#but now he could… and people would relate that eventual line to a woman if that makes sense.

[persephoneflouwers]

-

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes: This is part one of a new series.

Warnings: Judgment related to weight. Cursing. Fluff. Angst. Eventual smut (alluded to/or other). Self-esteem issues.

Words: 1622

Masterlist

---

You’re going to be new again. You’re so terribly tired of being new. But that's how it’s always been. Never in one place long enough to be considered a usual in town. Never a constant in anyone’s life. No. You’re the new girl, because people don’t give you a choice to be anything else. 

You learned it quite young. People’s lingering glances have nothing to do with curiosity or intrigue. They don’t stare because you’re particularly beautiful or unique-looking. Rather, they watch you so they may judge and criticize and tease. You learned it doesn’t fade as you age. People are people, and not all of them grow. Unfortunately for you, those people are scattered about the world as much as the good-hearted ones. But the good-hearted never approach you. They never look your way. 

Eventually, as it goes, the life you’re living, surrounded by those people, becomes too much. You get tired again. You leave that disappointing town. You find somewhere new. You repeat. The many places you’ve been have become tainted, and now you’re left with few. So few that two nights ago, instead of four different cities scribbled on notecards to choose from, there were three. The options are slimming. You put the cards in a bowl, closed your eyes, and now you’re a California resident, for however long that may be.

It’s extreme, you sometimes think—writing off a whole city or town when they’re full of other neighborhoods with different people who have fresh pairs of eyes—but it makes you feel better. You can say to yourself that you no longer live in that city or town. That city or town was an old life. 

In your new life—born from the moment you crossed the state line all of four hours ago—you’ve yet to feel out of place. Things have kept from souring. No wrong turns. No bad weather. A new apartment awaiting you from an ad you’d answered the day prior. The ad included a roommate you don’t want, but it’s cheap and all you can afford until you get a job. 

It’s also a risk. This “Jake” guy could be as bad as the rest, but there’s only one way to find out. And if he is bad—well, you’ve got two more notecards in your bag.

—

It’s nicer than you expected, and that brings forth a hearty handful of questions. Why would this guy need a roommate if he lived here? Why is the rent so cheap? And when you finally knock on the door, Jake is actually…a woman?

You do a quick scan of her face and form. She’s beautiful in nearly every conventional way. Her features fit in all the right places on her face. Her body is proportional, filling out clothes the way they are meant to be filled out. She’s intimidating. Not the roommate you expected, and certainly not a roommate you can handle having. She might very well be lovely, but you don’t need a daily reminder of what you are not. 

“Are you…Jake?” you ask.

“Natasha. You’re in the right place,” she replies, moving aside to make room for you to pass the threshold. 

Looking around, you almost gasp. The interior matches the grandness of its exterior wrapping. Lofted ceilings; natural light; walls painted in thick, throughout coats so as not to allow the slightest hint of their previous shade to peek through. It officially confirms what you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge before—you’ve grown too accustomed to living in dumps. From the shine of the floor alone, you know you’ve never held yourself to this guy’s standards. 

Will I have to meet those standards? 

“Jake couldn’t be here so he asked me to let you in,” Natasha says. “The key is on the counter.”

“Right, um–” You swallow, unsure how to ask what could easily be interpreted as rude. “And this Jake guy, is he…”

“Not a creep,” she promises with a light smile, “Just irritating.”

“That’s a relief.”

“If you like arrogant pilots.”

You almost tell her that a know-it-all plane man is probably one of the last people you intend to worry about—falling in place next to old ladies, babies, and tiny dogs—but you keep your mouth shut. She doesn’t need your story. And if Jake is a pilot, then it seems safe to say he won’t be around enough to bother figuring you out, either. 

“I can handle a pilot.” As long as he keeps to himself—Another thing you don’t say. 

The brunette nods. “Then this might work out after all,” she says before giving you a once-over. “He’ll definitely be surprised by you, though."

That stops you, nudging you back into a past you’re trying to forget. It makes your breath catch in your throat. Your ears begin to thump from a quickening pulse. “What do you mean by that?”

Chocolate brown eyes widen briefly before relaxing back into an indifferent mask. “Nothing. I’m sure you’ll get along fine,” she says. Another smile. Same as before. Then, “If you’re okay, I actually have somewhere to be.”

Releasing a tense exhale, you plaster on a smile of your own. “I’m good. Thank you.”

She nods and makes her way toward the door, wrapping slender fingers around the brushed nickel knob. “Jake said to let you know he’ll be back late. So you have some time to get acquainted with the place.” 

She twists the knob and steps through the open frame. When the door has nearly eclipsed the remainder of her body, she pauses and her eyes meet yours. “I hope you'll like it here. It’ll be nice to have another woman around to dilute the testosterone,” she says. Then she’s gone. 

Standing in the apartment alone, you feel like an intruder. Though Natasha told you to get acquainted, you can't imagine going on the hunt for your bedroom, or unpacking your clothes, or reclining on the couch with a snack from the refrigerator. Something in you says it's better to stand in the same spot until your roommate returns to lead you about the place himself. If only you knew when that would be.

—

The only thing clueing you in that, at some point, you’d fallen asleep in the armchair by the bookshelf is the key-in-lock sound now stirring you awake. You jolt up out of the chair to find the sun had set so long ago that not a sliver of orange on the horizon remains. How many hours had been wasted making up for lost sleep when you should’ve been rehearsing how to respond to all possible reactions your roommate might have upon seeing you?

It doesn’t matter. You’re out of time now. 

You’ve barely readjusted your shirt to hide the exposed line of your bra by the time the door opens. But the man who walks through is far from what you imagined, and you had imagined plenty. 

You wait for a second, breath trapped in lungs. But then you realize he has yet to notice you, so with curious eyes, you use his unaware moment to truly notice him. 

He’s tall, broad, with short sandy blond hair and a jawline you’ve not seen on any man outside of a TV screen or glossy magazine page. Sharp like etched marble. His stubble is a day's worth, and while you suspect it’s not a representation of his usual appearance, you can’t say it doesn’t suit him well. 

Through pink parted lips you hear the exhale of his sigh, and suddenly see from the slump of his shoulders as he removes his jacket to hang on a nearby hook that he’s as tired as you are. Likely for very different reasons, but tired all the same. An affliction of sorts you understand too well.

When he runs a hand down his face, as if to wipe off the exhaustion like a wet rag removing dirt from skin, you get your first full image of him. Before it was just his profile. That was enough to tell you plenty, but straight on he’s…more. From the hallway light, you catch a glimpse of the green hue of his eyes. You notice the tanness of his arms–not natural, but from spending too much time in the sun–and the veins that trail along them like rivers in the earth. 

You’re suddenly not so sure what you’ve gotten yourself into. Men like him you’ve dealt with before, and it doesn’t often do you well. However, you promised yourself that with each town, you’ll pretend your past pain doesn’t exist so you may approach the new people and places without preconceived opinions. It’s a struggle of a promise to keep, but you do your best. And having just arrived, it would be silly not to try to do your best here as well. 

Those green eyes finally find yours and he stops short, almost stumbling as if he forgot to expect you. But he recovers quickly, standing straight and sturdy to confirm his height. His slightly slackened jaw coupled with the stare he gives you, however, doesn’t quite manage the same impressive recovery rate. His face can’t hide his surprise. 

A throat-clearing is followed by, “You’re my new roommate?”

You can’t tell if there’s judgment in his tone. Disappointment, maybe? He’s still staring. 

“Yes,” you say calmly, giving him a chance to not be the prick you suspect he might be. Don’t break your promise, you internally scold.

His gaze lingers on each feature of your face. Eyes pause at your lips before traveling lower; much lower until he reaches your toes then makes his way back up to where he started. 

A beat passes. He swallows hard. Then that deep voice, having turned a bit husky, mutters a soft, “Fuck.”

---

A/N: again, this is a new series. So part 2 soon. I hope you liked it :)

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @tgmavericklover @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @penguin876

[callsignvenomcod]

a soft life

Prompt: Retired! Simon Riley. A slow life in a Manchester farm.

warning: mentions of PTSD, mentions of cartel related violence, mentions of violence, MDNI.

PS: Opening line is from the book "Jarhead" (2001) by Anthony Swofford.

______________________________________________________________

A story.

A man fires a rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterwards he returns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he's finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands, love a woman, build a house, change his son's diaper; his hands remember the rifle.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

For a long time, it was hard to convince himself he deserved to grow old. It might have been a given fact to some other people but not for those in the military, not for Ghost, at least; not after Tommy and Beth, or Las Almas or Johnny. It took him a lot of time to be grateful to be almost 40. For several reasons, he never saw himself living past 20.

And now he was opening up the crates of the chickens he kept in his very own farm, a piece of land he actually owned, without a mask on, very far away from the bullet sounds and a barrack, from the mud and the camo, away from everything and everyone, not sound in the horizon but the chickens and Riley, the border collie dog he got, barking at a three somewhere in the distance.

He retired the summer he turned 40, there was a ceremony and everything, with Laswell and Price and he got more chest candy that would eventually end up in a wooden chest, never to be seen again, under the bed. There wasn't a reason, he just had to. He was in his prime, physically, but his mind was made of glass lately, everything rubbed him the wrong way, couldn't even train recruits without snapping too hard at them, making them quit, yell at them too much, scare them too much, beat them up to a pulp too much.

Every man in the military had a story. A life before, a life after. And in the middle, sand, or mud, or just camo. A war that last years, a mission that lasts hours. Silence and nosie.

He, like other recruits, like other Sergeants, Lieutenants, Colonels, had shadows over them. It took months for him to stop looking over his shoulder while doing the big shop on a sunday, started going to those overnight groceries store to shop alone instead. The butcher's reminded him both of his adolescence and the carnage he had caused, flinched whenever he saw a mohawk kid walking down the street, looked twice sometimes only to find a stranger.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets, aye.

He turned in his paperwork and retired silently with lots of medals under his name, lots of dead men and probably women under his knife, missing friends, missing nerves and too scarred to be a model now. Ha.

Oh, and Y/N's wanted to get away at some point anyway.

Y/N. The last drink he never should have had, the cut that made him hide his face, and the party that made him feel his age. Pulp's words, not his. All it took was a few nights shopping at the Tesco she was working in as a cashier, late night shift, for them to become acquainted.

A year of mutual pinning, a single night in which Y/N placed the bourbon bottle and the batteries inside of the paper bag and looked up at Simon, change in hand (because he paid in cash always, no traces behind) and smiled at him. COVID had made it easier to transition from the skull balaclava to a medical mask and then to a bare face, so Simon looked at her behind the black medical mask and stared at her while she opened her mouth.

-Why do bees have sticky hair?

Simon blinked, looking down at her. -Pardon?

No line behind him. It was the first time the cashier talked to him other than "Goodnight" and "Drive safe", or "It will be 5.66, please". There was a faraway sound of some sort of 80's American pop music, something to pass time by. Simon had noticed her since the first time he came into this very same Tesco a few months ago, had noticed how she sang along whatever music was on, how her Tesco blue uniform looked too big on her, making her look insanely small and slinky. He noticed how she was always almost without a medical mask and whenever she used it, it was laced around her chin; he noticed short, clean nails, and a heart necklace over her chest, a pair of dazzling dove eyes, full hips, a belly.

He really noticed the full hips.

The girl fucking giggled and repeated. She must had a bit of Irish in her judging by the sound of her accent. Simon felt as awkward as a teenage boy in front of any girl ever -Why do bees have sticky hair?

The man shook his head, still confused, a quid in his hand.

-Because they use a honeycomb.

Ah, a woman after his own heart. Such a lame joke.

He snorted out a laugh.

It simply slipped and he memorized the name tag before grabbing his shopping bag and shaking his head, hearing her giggle behind him as he exited the store, and he came back two days later after convincing himself he needed two jars of red bean jam instead of the usual one.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

And now she sleeps here; and Simon had stared at her sleeping form wondering how much time it would take for her to start hating his way of loving, of being, how many times he would go silent on the phone, a bad texter, a worst caller, how he hated crowded places and loud noises and most of their dates happened in her flat, when her roommate was out, staring silently at a film on TV, her friends thinking she's getting her brains fucked out by an experienced, older, lust thirst Vet when in reality, Ghost was gathering up the courage to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

And now she sleeps here.

In the crook of his neck, his thigh over his hip, wild hair all over the bed, sometimes inside his mouth because he stopped using a mask a while ago.

In the mornings, tangled in their bed, warm sheets, the soft breeze of Riley sleeping under the bed, her sweet sweat and vanilla scented skin under his, it took Simon a few seconds to realize he was sleeping in the company of someone; in the arms of a woman and in his own bed, a king size bed with soft white sheets that were washed and changed every 5 days, not a twin bed in a barrack, that his years of active service were over, not forgotten, as if, but that he could allow himself to become whatever he might end up becoming if the 141 didn't happened.

-Come here, boy. Come here, Riley. Yeah, yeah...- said Simon scrunching down to caress right behind Riley's ear, the dog sticking out his long tongue and barking of joy mixed with the hyper sense of his breed, the soldier being careful not to break the eggs he held in a small basket. Simon had found him a puppy a few months ago, seemed like years really, in a litter box with 6 of his brothers and sisters, a beat-up cardboard sign reading "For adoption." And Simon picked up the only one with a lazy ear. He knew deep down that Y/N would appreciate that and simply put him in the passenger seat of the black Bronco truck he owned and drove all the way back home. -You're up early, eh? You having breakkie with us?

He had fallen into a comfortable routine now. He would wake up, crawl over Y/N's sleeping figure, careful not to wake her with the crack of dawn, 5AM with the BBC on his headphones, a 6'2 shadow jogging through the hills of the outskirts of Manchester, for an hour only the dark of the road, the eventual baby blue of the sky, the warmth of the sun. Sometimes Riley was up for it, sometimes he stood behind cuddled up in their room. And upon his return he would work out in their driveway for another hour, noticing the growing presence of what the media now called a "Dad Bod" (Y/N's words, not him) and eventually hearing soft barefoot steps coming from the room.

There was tea for two before he had to head out, get some tasks done, and a soft kiss hanging from Y/NS plush lips, and he would always try to push it, try his luck. He would smile against it, whispering "Good morning..." with a lazy voice, hands on Y/N's full hips, kneading them, in need of them, and Simon would press up with hard on against her stomach, while deepening the kiss.

It never failed to make her wet. It never failed to make her forget the kettle on the fire for a minute and simply give into his kiss, his embrace; him, overall. Simon would pick her up, easily, laid her on the counter, and her robe would open for him, with or without his help, and she was always so wet for him, so ready to do it.

-Simon...- she will say. - Breakfast...

And he wasted no time into twisting her words, dropping to his knees as if he was in the presence of a saint, of a virgin, of the end of the world, staring at her glistening cunt first thing in the morning, looking up with the adoration she deserved; she would gulp and argue it was not what she meant but she would recoil and whimper when Simon stuck his tongue inside his cunt anyway, overlapping her folds, blissfully eating her out before the sun was completely out.

The dog kept barking all the way down to the house, past the barn and the driveway, the small stable with the one horse they had, the pen he was building to eventually own sheep, and Simon felt the cold breeze of the early morning seeping through his black knit sweater and his jean jacket, as he walked all the way across the grass fields and into his porch, the swinging chair Y/N liked to read in, in a need of a reparation.

-Right...- he whispered to himself seeing the hammer he left outside to remind himself to fix the damn chair, bloody hell. Riley's nose peeked through the front door, opening it with ease and technique allowing themselves in, and the cold of the outside world was quickly gone.

Simon stepped into a cozy home, with a color palette he would have never picked, all warm yellows and oranges, pinks and whites, and soft cushions, warm blankets, a picknick turntable in the coffee table; and music, soft music he didn't recognize coming from it, a spinning record on it with yellow and pink lyrics, a girl signing about a loved one, and another voice, a present one, horribly trying to sing along.

He snorted out a laugh when Riley started barking and the voice was interrupted abruptly.

-Simon?...- Radio silence. -Babe?

Oh, the sound of his name in her mouth.

He crossed his living room, stepping into the kitchen, holding four eggs in a small bowl, one from each hen they owned, and he stood in the door frame, just a tad taller than him, admiring the view. He had endured white missions in the Russian winter, literal months of the gruesome torture and gory tasks and they all suddenly made sense because there was a girl.

Ah, there was a girl, alright.

Today was English breakfast. No peas for him, no sausages for her. It was stereotypical but easy to make and no one was around to judge them anyway. Next house was a few miles down the road, and even the road was far away, the town was a 30-minute ride. It was their little bit of heaven. The man stepped in, handing her the basket like every other day and kissed her temple, as she grilled some tomatoes slice ups leaning back against him. His hands would find her hips again and she would yawn with intimacy, hair still a mess, thighs still sticky. -Teas on the table, love. It's gone get cold.

-Ah, it's alright...- he said, hugging her tightly, as she kept leaning on him. -Slow morning today, eh...

She had been there and stuck around whenever the PTSD started acting up. She was the one that loved him when he started going fucking mental; and stuck around when she found her burning up SAS gear, a lost look in his eyes as he did so. He would throw in a Ghost mask and watch it burn for a moment, before murmuring a shocked sob and reaching out into the flames to retrieve it. She stuck around while he drank too much bourbon sitting on the porch, skull mask on, his dogs' tags held so tightly his knuckles will go white with force. Y/N even stuck around when the nightmares came, and she would wake up to Ghost whimpering on his side of the bed, breaking a cold sweat, his jaw tight and her brows furrowed, screaming out "Johnny! Johnny!" before waking up in tears, in raged hot tears down his cheeks, short of breath, his head a full of bullet noises and sirens wailings, pictures of his team and the blood and the grease paint. A mess. A shaking shadow.

Every October 11, she will make sure to hold him a little tighter, kiss him a little softer, love him, if it was possible, a little louder.

And she was here now, cooking breakfast, no peas for him; now he was living a soft life, with tea every morning, and a dog named Riley, with soft hands that wondered around his chest whenever he thought about Soap too much, about Gaz and that helo. But she was here now, and she had no sausages today, as they sat down on their small chair in their small kitchen in their small farm. He was living a soft life, and he didn't think of himself as worthy of it, but he must have been done something good to have her cooking breakfast and sleeping in their bed and caressing their dog under the table.

Tomorrow, Ghost would ask her to come out to the porch to find her reading swing fixed and a wedding ring.

She's going to say yes.

He didn't heard the bullets anymore.

_____________________________________________________________

Hello! Venom here.

Thank you so much to anyone that's been liking my story.

Happy 2024!

[billionbrilliantstars]

I’ve spent most of my life trying to be moderate in my politics. Trying to see both sides because I want us all to love each other. Even after the first Trump presidency I tried to tell myself a lot of people didn’t understand who they were voting for and chose the lesser of two evils. I blamed everything on polarization and the two party system. So much so that despite voting Democrat for president and senate, I voted third party for the house. I do think the two party system should go, eventually, but it is now on the bottom of my priority list.

The reason I felt comfortable holding these beliefs was because I thought there was no more need for extreme politics. The Civil Rights movement had to be extreme, because things were so bad. All of the feminist movements had to be extreme, because things were so bad. And while 2016 was a huge wakeup call, Hillary won the popular vote. So I still convinced myself that there was room to moderate. No longer.

This year Trump had almost exactly the same amount of votes as last time, but 13 million people who voted for Joe Biden, a white man, did not come back and vote for Kamala Harris this year. What possible disadvantage could she have compared to Biden? She’s younger, more articulate, more relatable, more charismatic, more vibrant, has a longer history of defending others, and is more openly empathetic. Why would she lose 13 million people who voted Democrat just four years later? Historically a party losing that many votes from one general election to the next is very rare. The last time it happened was when the republican Gerald Ford lost 8 million republican votes that previously went to Nixon in the last election.

That was because of Watergate. The only reason for Kamala Harris to get 13 million votes less than Biden was that is is a woman and she’s black. The only thing Biden had that she didn’t have was that he is a white man. Let that sink in. Donald Trump is a blatant racist and a convicted felon. He was proven guilty of sexual assault. But he was preferable over a competent and intelligent black woman without a blemish on her record.

I thought the time for extremism has passed. But It’s still here. This is not a time to concede or moderate. Women’s rights are still very much on the line just like they were when feminist movements were huge. Racial equality is still on the line just like it was in MLJ Jr’s era. I want a united country. I want to live in a world where we all understand each other’s perspectives. But bigotry is not a compromise and it’s as big of a problem as it ever was. We are a long way from an era where it will be safe to compromise on politics.

[munsons-hellfire]

Chapter 1: Past And Present

SUMMARY: You call off your wedding and move out to California, then 3 years later you find out something you weren't expecting but with the help of Steve and Eddie your able to accept it.

PAIRINGS: Film Director!Steve Harrington x Writer!Fem!Reader x Rockstar!Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

PART 1 IN THE BROKE HEARTS CAN BE MENDED SERIES

CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW, 18+ MDNI, Steddie x Reader, Eventual Smut, mentions of sex, modern take, mentions of family trauma, language, mentions of throwing up, pregnancy, no use of y/n.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I didn't have this in the masterlist at first but it's since been added. This series will have a pregnancy plot line because when I created this idea that's how I saw the story going. And it will be a fast burn between Eddie, Steve & Reader.

WORD COUNT: 3.9K Words

THE BROKEN HEARTS CAN BE MENDED MASTERLIST

3 YEARS AGO

You were so excited for the start of your new life away from the people who made you believe that you couldn't be loved, that you couldn't have whatever you wanted. Your wedding was just a few days away and you would be marrying the love of your life. Your first book had been picked up and would be published in the new year with another one coming out a few months later. Your parents would be at the wedding even though you wanted nothing to do with them.

But you knew deep down that they couldn't ruin what you wanted even if they had tried. You were on your way home to tell your fiancé the exciting news about your books. He had yet to know that the first one was going to be published. You had wanted to wait to tell anyone else until you were sure that they would make it out into the world for others to read and enjoy.

You felt that things were finally falling into place and you were getting everything you could've ever imagined and more. It might not have been perfect but you were getting the fairytale you had always dreamed of as a kid. The one thing that has got you through all kinds of things including family related time. Walking out of the elevator you headed down the hallway to your shared apartment with your fiancé.

Your keys jingled as you moved them around to get to the main key. When you had your slim fingers on the key you placed it into the keyhole and unlocked the door. You were hoping to be greeted by your fiancé, but he was nowhere in sight. And you knew he was home because his keys were on the counter.

"Babe?" You called out, your voice barely above a soft whisper. You hadn't meant for it to come out as a whisper but you felt the change of the atmosphere the second you walked into the apartment. Something definitely felt off.

You placed your bags on the counter and walked down the hallway heading towards your bedroom, the door was closed which you thought was odd considering it was normally open. As you got closer you heard moans coming from a woman. Not just that but you had heard the moans of your fiancé too. The ones you were very familiar with, the ones that only you would pull out of him whenever the two of you were having sex.

You stopped only inches away from the door, you were terrified to step forward because if you stepped in that room then you knew the wedding would be over because you would call it off. Or you could grab your things and leave and pretend like nothing was happening but then you knew you'd be sad and marry someone who'd cheat on you again in the future. The choice was now or never.

With a heavy exhale, your shaky hand fell to the door knob and turned it pushing the door open. Shock fell onto your face and your mouth fell open as you stared at your fiancé ramming his body into your best friend. You could already feel the tears falling down your cheeks. Before you had a chance to react your best friend saw you and was freaking out.

"Babe?" His voice ran cold through your ears as you continued to stare at the two of them. "It's not what it looks like." He was quick to say, standing up and covering himself with a blanket while she did the same.

"The fuck it isn't. From where I am standing it looks like you had your dick in pussy that wasn't mine." You had never used such harsh words towards someone but you were angry and hurt with the two people you trusted so much.

"Please, let us explain." Abby said, standing from the bed and trying to walk over to you.

"I don't need you to explain anything. You two are clearly meant for each other." You lifted your hand up and pulled the engagement ring off your finger. "I'll come get my stuff tomorrow when you're not here. The weddings off."

You threw the ring at your now ex-fiancé and turned around walking away from the bedroom. Derek grabbed his boxers and put them on as he followed after you.

"What are you talking about? It was just a one time thing, baby. Please, don't do this." He went to grab a hold of your wrist but you were quick to pull it away.

"A one time thing?" You asked, spinning around to look at him. "Please, I know better. And I should've picked up on the fucking signs before I said yes to you, you fucking cheater."

"It's not Derek's fault, just hear him out." Abby said as she walked into the room fully dressed.

"There's nothing to talk about. Tell me how long have you been fucking each other? Please, I need to know how long it's been happening."

"It started a few months after you introduced us." It hit you all at once, something you had never imagined happening was happening right now and you couldn't breath.

"I-I... You can just throw my stuff out, I'll buy new stuff." The words were quick to leave your mouth. Everything around you seemed to move in slow motion. "I don't want either of you to contact me ever again." You grabbed your bags and keys and moved towards the door.

"What? No, you're my best friend. I can't lose you like this. Please." Abby was pleading with you while Derek stood there in silence.

"You lost me the day you started sleeping with the one person I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with." You paused and looked at Derek. "Thank you for reminding me that I can't be loved once again."

It was harsh, sure, but it's how you were feeling at the moment. And before either of them could say anything to stop you from leaving you were out the door and heading down towards your car. Luckily the only things that you'd really have to replace would be all your clothes, and shoes. Your laptop and notes remained in an office that you rented out when you needed to write.

That's where you'd go tonight, well to gather what you'd need for the flight to California. Your publicist had asked that you make a move over there for the first few years of your career. Plus it had been a lifelong dream to move there. And well now it was happening. Once you were in the car, you called your publicist, you needed to talk to someone even if you didn't consider them a friend.

"Hello?" Nathaniel's voice ran through your car speakers as you pulled out of the parking lot. You were still crying but you didn't realize that you had sniffled until he was saying something. "What's wrong?"

You had only known Nathaniel for about eight months. And he was slowly becoming one of your friends. Even though he would remain your publicist you knew he would eventually become your best friend since you were now in the market for a new one. 8 months ago when you met Nathaniel had accidentally walked right into you on the way to a meeting (a meeting you had to go to and it was actually with him).

From then on you two had really bonded and created a friendship. Not only that but he had been in support of all the ideas you had for a future series as well as a few novels give or take. Now here you were, getting ready to start a new career without the people you thought would be by your side.

"I'm not getting married." You breathed out. You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders but that was not the truth. You felt angry with yourself because you had let this go on for so long.

"What does that mean? I need more of an explanation than that."

"Turns our Derek has been sleeping with Abby since I introduced them to each other. I want to say I can't believe that, but I should've known something was going to happen. I can't be loved by anyone." You pulled over to the side of the road and turned on your hazards, the tears rolled down your face quicker you couldn't hold it back anymore.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe that." You heard Nathaniel pause before he started talking again. "I know you believe that you don't deserve any kind of love that this world has to offer. But you do, it just seems that Derek wasn't the one for you. Maybe your knight and shining armor is out there somewhere."

"We've only known each other for 8 months now and that's what you've picked up on the most from what I've talked about to you?"

"Yeah, and from what I've seen when you act around Derek. I'm honestly glad the wedding is called off and you're leaving him. What are your plans now?"

"California."

"Sounds like a plan, you can stay with my partner and I until you can get yourself on your feet."

"You don't have to do that Nathaniel."

"I know. But I am and you're going to accept my invite."

"Okay. I'm gonna stay in a hotel tonight and then I'll be getting on a plane tomorrow."

"Good. Send me your flight plans and I'll pick you up at LAX."

You agreed with the plans for tomorrow and said goodbye to Nathaniel. Afterwards you began driving again stopping at your office and grabbed what you still needed. When you made it to the hotel you sent an email to everyone letting them all know that the wedding was over. You were still sad by what had happened but you had a new future to look forward to.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

PRESENT DAY (2023)

A knock at your door woke you up from your slumber. It had been 3 years to the day that you had left your ex-fiancé behind. Derek and Abby tried calling you weeks after you had left but it was no use. Eventually the two gave up and you assumed that they moved on with each other. You stayed with Nathaniel and his partner (now husband) Jack. The two helped you heal even though you had not only told them you were fine but had told them that you didn't need anyone to do that.

You became very successful after your first book reached stores all over the world. Now 3 years later you've published 23 books so far. Book 24 would be coming out over the summer and you were currently working on book 25. After you had officially moved to Los Angeles, you had met Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. The two were married to each other and had a daughter, who was now 8.

Even though you often denied it and didn't want it to be true you had been pushing the feelings you had felt for both Steve and Eddie for the last 3 years. No matter how hard you tried they couldn't escape your mind. And it has gotten worse over the last few weeks. But last week a mistake was made and you felt so guilty for letting it happen. After your shared kisses with the married men you had avoided them. Avoiding everything, their calls, their texts, luckily they had yet to arrive at your apartment.

It was already stressing you out enough, so much so that you thought it was the reason you were in a constant state of sickness. When you finally went to a doctor to figure out what was going on, it was there that you were told you were in fact pregnant. Since you found out last week not only had you still avoided Steve and Eddie but you had got in touch with the baby daddy and told him.

He however had made it clear to you that there was no room for a baby in his life and he had also made it clear that he didn't want you to contact him again. He was an asshole and you didn't know why you ever went out and dated him in the first place. As of right now it was your hidden secret. You didn't want to tell Steve or Eddie because that would also mean the three of you would have to talk about the kisses and you didn't want to face that possibility of rejection.

You were the one to initiate it on both of them and sure they kissed you back. But neither said anything after the kisses and it was at that moment that you knew you had misread the situation. You apologized to them for what had happened and left after that. You haven't talked to them since. You also didn't want to tell Nathaniel or Jack because you knew that one of them would tell Steve and Eddie.

If they all knew then it would become more real. It would also remind you just how along you were in all this. You were going to raise a baby by yourself. Were you ready for that next step in your life? Hell no, but you were already so in love with the life growing inside you. There was a knock at your door, you groaned into your pillow not wanting to get out of your bed.

You knew exactly who it was and that's why you didn't want to get out. You knew very well that it was Steve and Eddie knocking on your front door and you knew that they wanted to know if you were avoiding them because of what had happened. And while you would tell them no, it wasn't the total truth.

But right now it had nothing to do with the fact that you were avoiding them. It had everything to do with the fact that a baby was growing inside you. Before you had a chance to make it out of your room and go answer the door, your baby had another plan that caused you to run for the toilet after you had thrown your covers off your body. You collapsed to the ground and held your head low as you threw up.

Eddie and Steve pushed open the front door of your apartment. You had given them a key, though you still don't know why. They had Casey with them, she was hanging onto Eddie's back. The child had a smile on her face as Eddie flew her into your living room and placed her down on the couch. Meanwhile Steve walked back to where your room was located.

You groaned holding your head to the toilet waiting for more to rise up. This was the regular routine for the past 13 weeks (which is how far along you currently were). Soon the first trimester would be ending and you were told that the morning sickness should go away. You hated it so much, so you hoped that's what would happen.

Steve stepped into your room, his brown eyes looked to see you in the bathroom. A small rush of panic swam through him and before he knew it he was by your side and placing his hand gently on your back which had caused you to jump at his touch, not because you feared it simply because you weren't expecting it.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Steve questioned, the concern clear on his face and evident in his voice.

"Just sick is all." That's not actually what you wanted to tell him but again it came back to the fear that if you told anyone else it would make the pregnancy more real. "Why are you guys here?"

"You haven't been answering your texts or calls. Stevie and I want to know if you're ignoring us because of what happened last week." Eddie explained as he walked into your room, closing the door behind him so Casey wouldn't hear the three of you talking.

"I'm not ignoring either of you, I've just had a lot on my mind. It happened, I don't want to talk about it right now. I can't focus on that, not for a while anyway."

The two men exchanged a glance with each other as you stood from the toilet and flushed it. Then you walked over to your sink and began brushing your teeth. After you were done you walked back over to your bed and climbed into it pulling the covers back over you to block your eyes from Eddie and Steve.

They took notice of the way you were acting, having known you for 3 years they knew this wasn't normal. They just weren't sure if it was because of the shared kisses or if it was something else. You felt the bed dip down on both sides and before you could get a tighter grip on your blanket it was ripped away.

"Give it back." You mumbled, holding your head into your pillow.

"No, not until you tell us what we did wrong." Steve was being stern with you, like you were one of the actors on the set of a movie and you didn't like it. You couldn't hold the tears back anymore, and you were blaming it on the hormones.

"Hey, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" Eddie proceeded to ask, after taking notice of the tears that fell down your cheeks.

"You remember Bodie?" You asked softly, not bothering to keep eye contact with either of the men.

"Yeah, the asshole that you were dating but stopped talking to you for no reason." Eddie clarified, he made it clear to you that he didn't like Bodie from the beginning and well after you tell him and Steve they both will have a very good reason to hate him even more.

"He got me pregnant."

Steve looked at his husband as Eddie stared back at him. The shock and anger evident on both their faces but you still weren't looking at either of them to take notice of their features.

"I found out the day we kissed, well before the kisses. I know I said I don't want to talk about it, but I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking. I think I kissed you both because I was emotional, I had found out the news and I was by myself at that point. I hadn't told Bodie yet, you two were the first I was going to tell but then we kissed and neither of you talked and I-I got scared, so I ran."

You sucked in some air, as you did you felt both Steve and Eddie reach out for your hands and hold onto them tightly. So tight it was like they didn't want to let you go.

"I eventually told Bodie, and he in the nicest way possible told me to fuck off and leave him alone. I guess you were right about him being an asshole." More tears fell down your face as you continued to cry into your pillow.

Still holding onto your hand Eddie lowered himself further down onto your bed and pulled you into his chest. Meanwhile Steve (who removed his hand) came up behind you and wrapped his arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. Even before you realized you had feelings for the two you always felt so comfortable around them, no matter what any of you were going through.

"You aren't going to go through this alone. You have Ed and I, you have Casey, and you have Nate and Jack." Steve paused, his free hand lifting up towards your face and moving some of your hair out of the way. "Not to mention that Robin and Nancy are going to be so excited about this baby." Steve kept his soft brown eyes on you as he talked to you.

"Yeah, Nancy loves her kids, but I'm sure she and Jonathan would love to have another baby around. Not to mention Robin is going to spoil the heck out of this kid." You chuckled at the thought of Robin taking her Auntie duty seriously.

After you had become friends with Steve and Eddie, they introduced you to their Hawkins friend group. You had met Robin and Vickie first, and had really bonded with Robin. Steve, Eddie, and Vickie had a hard time separating you from Robin whenever a party was over or it was time to go home. You met Jonathan and Nancy Byers, and the two little beans.

They had a son and a daughter, both 2 years apart from each other. Their son Kevin, was the same age as Casey, while their daughter Annabelle was 6. Then you met the kids that Steve babysat for when he was younger. Dustin and Will were your favorites, so they would be excited for this kid and would for sure treat it like their own nephew or niece.

You knew the others would be just as excited. Especially Max and El, the two had always asked if you were ever thinking of having your own kids and while you never gave them an answer this would for sure answer it. And then there was Casey Willow, she was going to be over the moon when she would find out you were pregnant.

Even though the boys didn't want to say anything to you about it, Casey already saw you as a mother figure. She had often asked when her dads were finally going to ask you to marry them. And every time both Steve and Eddie had to tell Casey that they haven't gotten to that part of the relationship yet.

With the four of you it already seemed like you were a family, but you still didn't want to think about that. Not right now anyway, you had a baby to think about and you had no idea where to start.

"What am I going to do?" You asked.

"Do you want to keep this baby?" Steve was the one who asked the question, but you needed it to be asked because you already had your answer. You had the answer from the moment you saw your baby.

"I do. I want to be everything that my parents weren't to me. I want this kid to not feel the way I did. I want this kid to know what it's like to be loved by their parents even if it's just me."

"Okay, then you start from there. You're not going to be alone in this." Eddie's voice was soft as the words slipped from his lips.

"And when you're ready we'll discuss what happened last week. But just know that we both feel the same way about you that we know you feel about us."

You started to nod your head, as more tears streamed down your face. It was the first time in a long time that someone had put your emotions first and your feelings first.

"Thank you." You exhaled, a soft smile gracing your lips.

The rest of the day Steve and Eddie had taken care of you even though you told them you didn't need them too. You told Casey as well and like you had suspected she was excited as ever even going as far to ask you if the baby was going to be their sibling.

While you didn't have an answer it overjoyed you that this baby was already loved so much. Maybe these next few months wouldn't be so bad. That's what you had hoped for anyway.

TAGS: @eddiesguitarskills @inhumanssxx

[lumenflowered]

Pelipper mail! A nightmare, maybe? Or just a dream...

It is a normal shift at the Yharnam Coffee Shop, in your home town in the suburbs of Portland, Oregon. You have lived here all your life, and have been satisfied enough.

The owner, Gehrman, hardly ever comes into the shop to manage things. He prefers to sit in the chair out front and greet customers, all day long, and he swears this is critical to Yharnam Coffee's successful operation. When he's not present, it's up to you as most senior employee to make sure things run smoothly.

Not that there's ever much difficulty or tension, here. The shop's only competition was your former employer, the Cainhurst Brewery, and it burned to the ground three months ago. Your coworker Alfred seems unusually happy about that and you have your suspicions, no matter how many times you've tried to tell him that companies don't deserve his loyalty or outside-work efforts.

Eileen is here, as usual, sitting in the corner with her black coffee and blacker clothing. You don't know what she used to do, but she's retired now. She likes to people-watch, and will comment briefly to people who make the effort to sit beside her, but she always pushes visitors away eventually.

At the front of the line now is Djura, who used to work here but quit in favor of a better job last year. He is polite but curt, asking for his latte to go as he always does, because you know he doesn't like to spend time in here any more than he needs to. You take his payment and write his name on the cup, spelled correctly as so few people can. Behind you, Gascoigne begins making the drink for him.

It is an uneventful day. After a while, Eileen gets up to leave. Another one of your regulars, Gilbert, enters wearing a face mask, but he assures you what he has is not serious. At the end of your shift, Gascoigne's daughters show up with an order for four hot chocolates. Laurence and Amelia are already here to replace you, making this as their first order of the day, and you help Gascoigne carry everything out to his wife waiting in the car.

Then you head home yourself, and Reina meets you at the door with a smile and a hug, and all is well.

I. That.

What.

I have so many questions and I am, in fact, just confused enough to actually begin asking them.

Where is Portland? Where is Oregon? Why a coffee shop? I'll admit I'm rather amused by how thoroughly useless Gehrman was, given how thoroughly useless I am led to believe he became in his old age. Yet—

Cainhurst? A brewery? If anything, they would be a winery, they were always all too pretentious about their particular vintages—on a related note, do not drink the wine there, it is not wine and it is not sanitary—and I don't know who this 'Alfred' is but if he burned Cainhurst to the ground he cannot be entirely terrible.

I do know Eileen, and she would be the sort to drink entirely black coffee. She would... also be the sort to push people away. Especially after being retired.

...I can scarcely imagine her retiring. Not willingly, at least. She was... she was younger than me. She was an old woman in that dream.

I have... never met a Djura, or a Gascoigne, or a Gilbert. I suppose that they, like Alfred, must have been after my time... and like whoever Amelia must be.

Laurence is... familiar. I would not trust him in food service. For several reasons.

Still, I...

How can I feel nostalgic for something that never was, and never could be? For people I have never met, only heard of, in many cases?

Why do I miss something that I never experienced?

...Enough of that, I suppose. Victory Road is close, and I'm told that the Pokémon League is just beyond it.

Perhaps...

...Perhaps I'll consider coffee further, the next time I am in civilization. I always preferred tea, though that was more out of familiarity rather than anything else. It certainly smells nice, or did in that... dream? Nightmare?

I don't know what to categorize that as, in complete honesty.

[trash-soup]

Weird and fun and slightly unhinged (and SPOILER FILLED) Stardew Valley headcanons i have:

My cows are transmasc (like Otis from Barnyard) so every time I (the player character) see them i say "Gentlemen" and give them a nod

Maru and I share notes on things we've built in the past few days every time we see each other

M. Rasmodius had two kids with two different women in town (which is why the witch divorced his ass): Abigail (duh) and WAIT FOR IT...Sebastian. We know nothing about Sebastian's father, but Seb himself is very attuned to nature and has the same slight smugness at the beginning as the Wizard. Do Seb and Abigail know they're related? No. Will they ever? Who knows. Do they feel a strong connection between them? Yes. Has it been confused for a crush and will it dissapate into a sibling-like relationship eventually? Absolutely.

Marnie knows she deserved better than Lewis. That's why she's been considering Marlon.

Gil (the monster slayer rewards guy) is Jodi and Harvey's dad.

Lewis siphons money from the town's taxes into various "town _____ funds", most of which he keeps for himself. (gold for a solid gold statue is expensive) the only reason he doesn't keep the agriculture fund is because I moved into the farm.

Evelyn and Grandpa had a long and storied romance before she met George. They were middle school sweethearts all the way through high school, but when they graduated, she left for a job in the city, and he stayed behind on the farm. He eventually met our grandmother, who he married, and when evelyn came back she was a bit saddened but she kept in touch with both of them. Soon after she met George, and that was that.

Pam and Clint are cousins

Gunther is actually running a small smuggling ring with his wife, the Travelling Cart woman (I call her Maureen). They smuggle artifacts and supplies over enemy lines.

"Our beloved Mona" in the cemetery is actually Jas and Shane's Mom, Marnie's Sister. Shane had a rough relationship with her, opting to go with his dad in the divorce, but when dad turned out to be an abusive ass, he came back to mom's. He and Mona got along a bit better and he even started thriving in school. She would make him homemade Jalapeno bacon pepper poppers as a reward for good grades, and threw him a pizza party when he made the Varsity gridball team. After he graduated, she had Jas and named him her godfather on top of being her half brother. Then she had an awful accident about a year and a half later. Shane spiraled, latched on to the addictive tendencies given to him by his father's genes, and began drinking. He asked aunt Marnie if they could crash with her for a while. He's still reeling from his mom's sudden death 7 years later when we move in.

Demetrius is working on secret military projects but can't let his family know, so he wanders off (to the lakeside and to the fountain) to work on them.

Harvey has a shelf in his apartment full of ultra expensive and intricate model planes, half of which were gifts from Jodi

Kent and Harvey have a strained relationship due to Kent having seen the true horrors of war and Harvey glorifying service in the armed forces. They get along but only just.

Pierre's secret stash is not porn, but Money. He keeps a rather large sum of gold tucked away from his family "just in case".

Shane and Alex hang out and talk about gridball more than you would think. In fact, Alex is one of the very few people Shane likes.

Claire (the cashier from Joja) hates Morris. She hates working for Joja. She hates the fact that they're causing problems in the valley. She wishes she could just own her own business here some day. And she does. When the Junimos restore the Joja building into the movie theatre, she gets a mysterious letter in the mail that says "Come bak tu valley, muvee plase is yours" (Junimos had to ask hat mouse to write it)

I have a ton more but that's it for now.

[bonefall]

What opinions are you having about Bright Storm?

I keep thinking about what it would look like if Gray Wing had been functionally replaced by Bright Storm for BB, and if there was just no Gray Wing

Bright Storm going to hunt for Jagged Peak alone, not related to him at all, but just because it's the right thing to do

How absolutely alone she'd be after giving birth, Jagged Peak gone because she couldn't save him, cradling Thunder Storm close, leg missing in the same spot as Jagged Peak

And then going back and being rejected AGAIN. Clear Sky trying to frame it as this being her punishment for defying him

"Don't you understand? You're all wrong. The ancestors are telling us that Jagged Peak needed to be cast out alone and yet you followed."

Making her doubt herself, framing it like he'll "forgive her" for leaving him if she just gets rid of the child

"I still love you, you know. Even though you made it hard. I'll still forgive you."

But the split still happening on this; with Tall Shadow rejecting Clear Sky's snake words for what it is. "You've been controlling us all long enough"

Girl characters never get treated like wise old sages either, it would be so neat for Thunder Storm to have his mom as the wise mentor type character who still can't get rid of all her love for her abuser

And how EXTRA hard it would pack a punch for Bright Storm to eventually be the Wise Woman whose words get Bumble exiled, as she's picked up part of Clear Sky's mindset.

And the way she'd look at her son with so much pride... keeping wisdom close even when her judgement lapses, rejecting Clear Sky when he throws out Frost in a way that almost perfectly mirrors her and Jagged Peak, realizing that HE has no innate love for Clear Sky

That it came from HER

After all she'd been through, after being blamed for not listening to Clear Sky well enough, following him out of the mountain because of how much she loved him...

She tried to make her son forgive his father *for her*, to have what she couldn't, even though it only hurt them both

"I used to be scared for you, how much anger you could keep in your little body, I was afraid it would make you alone... but now I see you, Thunder Storm. You're the claws we forget we have, when we hide them away to be polite to those who do us harm. If that scares some people then, well, honey they should be scared."

I'm thinking about how it changes the context of the Star-line. "Kill me and live with the memory."

The fact that it was ALWAYS defiance from Bright Storm and later Thunder Storm that takes more and more power away from him. First the wife he couldn't keep in line, and then the son who had an even stronger will than her.

And how, with that context changed, Clear Sky snapping (as he always does) and rejecting the line feels slightly more resonant.

He WILL happily live with that memory. If she will "make" him carve victory out through her throat, he will. She is a symbol of people he can't control, and in his mind, he's "giving up on her"

Thunderstar rocking one of those heart-shaped "MOM" tattoos lmao

For several reasons I wouldn't do it though so don't worry lmao.

i did the thing lads.

[thinkin-bout-milgram]

Cat: Initial Thoughts

Venus here, sorry if this is shakier than usual! I have a lot less thoughts on this MV for one reason or another, so it’ll probably be faster and possibly less detailed, but I want to get my opinions into the world anyways.

Let’s just get to it!

T/W: suicide, substance abuse, homophobia

Kazui didn’t cheat on his wife.

As always, I’m using @onigiriico​’s super fast translation of the audio drama, so thanks so much!

In said audio drama, Es says Kazui was unfaithful. However, he says that “it didn’t even turn into infidelity.” Obviously, that implies that it could have been or that it got close, but he doesn’t say it’s actually infidelity, and in most senses, I’m willing to believe him.

At 2:20, Kazui has just recently had the apple sneak up on him again. He seems distressed, saying he “can’t be normal,” and then takes off his ring and says, cigarette in hand, “let’s take a breather.” His wife looks quite distressed. 

My best guess is that this is Kazui asking for a break. Now, obviously, it’s not the most faithful thing to be super tempted in cheating to the point of asking for a break. Still, it does mean that he did stop himself before he violated an active relationship where it seemed like nothing was wrong, so that’s a plus.

I’m not sure if it was just straight-up temptation or if he might have had an emotional affair with someone. Emotional affair would make some sense to me (more on that in a sec), but I have no idea who it would be with. I’m honestly hoping the interview questions might help us out there to an extent.

The person Kazui didn’t-quite-cheat with is someone who stands out from the other people Kazui meets.

This is largely based upon my interpretation of 1:08, shortly after the wedding sequence.

There are a ton of apples, but most of them are red. In fact, we only see one green apple. That green apple is the one that follows Kazui throughout the rest of this MV, and it’s the one that keeps sneaking up on him in the half MV. Because it’s the one he eventually bites, I think there’s plenty of reason to believe that this is the person he has relations with outside of his marriage.

I want to focus on the fact that it is green, because that obviously makes it stand out. I don’t think that this is just to make it more identifiable; I think there’s a point being made here.

Kazui IS gay?

Yeah, uh... I wasn’t sold on this one at first, when I first watched half, but as I think I’ve said before, the longer we go on, the more I think it’s true. Like, yeah, it does seem like there’s more to it than just Kazui having relations outside of his marriage.

The entire MV, he’s talking about the charade. He’s clearly living the life that a guy is “supposed” to lead; eventually, you get married to a woman and go down the journey of life together. Still, the fact that, even at the altar, he calls it “loving affection minus love” seems to imply that he feels, at least in retrospect, like the love was never present. He didn’t fall out of love with his wife, it simply wasn’t ever there. He married her out of obligation.

Through in the suspect interview questions about his childhood friend who he went fishing with or whatever and lines from Kazui’s POV saying stuff like “I can’t be normal,” and... I think Kazui is kinda just a closeted gay man?

I say “just” here, and I mean that literally. If you trust his audio drama, he says that he wants his “sin” to be found out, but even so, Es hasn’t found it yet. To me, my best theory is that he just has internalized homophobia and his big “sin” is the fact that he’s gay. I honestly kinda hate this explanation though, just because that is nowhere NEAR a crime on the level of the other prisoners, so please let me know if you disagree/if I’m missing something here.

Kazui has developed some unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I don’t remember if we’ve heard why Kazui smokes before. I know that Shidou says that he does it because he wants to be unhealthy, and Mikoto presumably does because he thinks it makes him seem cool or something. I don’t remember learning anything similar about Kazui.

Still, with the moments at which he pulls out a cigarette or a drink in this MV, I definitely feel like he’s using substances to dull the pain of... I don’t know, life? His constant lying and the self hatred that goes along with it, probably. 

Obviously, he went to the bar in the half MV, but this time, the devs are definitely trying to draw attention to it. There’s a line in the song that’s literally just “oh wow I’m drunk,” and that line is important enough that it shows up as background text at other points in the MV. 

I don’t really know what this means for Kazui character interpretation, but it’s something to consider. For whatever it’s worth, it does make me believe the self-pitying “act” a little bit more; if he didn’t actually pity himself/feel upset that he has to lie all the time, I don’t know what he’s drinking so much for.

Kazui’s wife committed suicide because... ???

This is one of the big places where I’m kinda stumped. Kazui says that she died because he told her the truth. If I’m right and his crime is being gay... I don’t get it? 

I know that divorce is pretty taboo in Japan, so my best shot at it would be that, in being honest with everything, Kazui asks for a divorce because he knows that he can’t ever love her. If that would mean that she’s dead socially or something, that COULD be a potential reason she would commit suicide? I don’t love that explanation, but it’s all that I have right now.

Other Things I Want To Mention But Don’t Have Full Thoughts On:

- In the first MV, Kazui bites the apple. In the second one, he bites the dove. There’s probably some connection here, but I honestly have no idea what it could be.

- “Love, it’s tacky, this two way deceit.” What two-way deceit is Kazui talking about? Like, I get him calling himself the perpetrator and her the victim if he’s saying she’s a victim of his lies. Still, if that’s the case, why would the deceit be two-way? 

- Copzui canon? I saw that undercover cop theory and mostly disregarded it as “probably too out there to be true,” but honestly, it seems basically confirmed at this point. The only struggle I have is what to do with the information. I don’t think that knowing he’s a cop really changes anything about how I read his character or the situation? Other than possibly suggesting that yes, he cares very much about social laws/rules and making sure society stays “correct.”

- What do I make of Kazui asking for an innocent verdict along with the premise of “I can protect the other prisoners”? I don’t really like him bargaining with his strength for a verdict--especially after Kotoko trial 1, I don’t trust bartered verdicts--but on the other hand, it’s true that it’d be nice to have him on defense for whatever the devs might spring on us between trials 2 and 3. 

Anyways...

CURRENT VOTE: INNOCENT

I was actually pretty shocked when I opened the votes and saw a slight guilty majority. To me, the big thing is that... well, I don’t really know why I’d vote him guilty. He’s useful to us, he doesn’t seem like he’s done all that much wrong. I can’t really come up with a genuine reason that I’d want to give him a guilty verdict at this point, so it’s innocent for me.

(Plus, if I’m not sure, I always lean towards a 50/50 so it’s more possible to change the verdict later. So, while he’s guilty-leaning, I’m DEFINITELY voting innocent.)

[put-me-out-of-my-destiny]

Family is an important theme in every DMC game. Dante and Vergil are always grappling with Sparda and Eva's legacy, and now Nero has to deal with Dante and Vergil's baggage. It seems DMC characters tend to have complicated relationships with their parents, and the supporting characters are no exception.

Lady is an obvious example. She became a devil hunter in DMC3 because her father, Arkham, murdered her mother in a bid for demonic power. Near the end of the game, Lady kills Arkham, which a line in DMC5 suggests has weighed heavily on her since. On the note of family, an ancestor of Lady's happened to be a priestess who aided Sparda in a ritual to seal away the demon world.

Side note, I've been told it's canon that this ritual killed her, but that doesn't make a lot of sense to me. Sparda didn't have to give a lethal amount of blood for the sake of the ritual, and Lady didn't give a lethal amount of blood to break it. Neither did Dante or Vergil, for that matter. It means little either way, the sacrifice was almost certainly willing, and she'd be long dead by the present anyway, but it still bugs me a little.

Trish doesn't really have parents in the traditional sense, but she was created by someone: Mundus. But Mundus saw her as expendable, easily recreated, little more than a tool to lure Dante to his death. Ultimately, Trish aided Dante in defeating him, and she became a devil hunter herself.

Trish was also made in the image of Dante's mother, Eva. While Trish never met the woman, it's an undeniable fact that Trish wouldn't exist in the same capacity without her - one could also consider her to be a parent to Trish, or at least like some kind of magical sperm donor.

Wether you choose to look at it that way or not, Trish has definitely endured both Dante and Vergil (as V) projecting their feelings about Eva onto her, though the former seems to have gotten over that, and the latter hasn't interacted with her much at all. Despite this, Trish continues using Eva's face, even though she can change her appearance.

On the subject of Dante, one could assume that she was adopted into his family in some way, given that she was trusted to wield Sparda's sword and his pistols. She carries his legacy just as much as Dante does, even though she doesn't share his blood.

Lucia, like Trish, was artificially made, in her case by a human sorcerer named Arius. Mundus only remarked that he could easily recreate Trish, but Arius actually proved it - Lucia is one of many "secretary" demons, and a defective one at that. She was discarded by Arius, and adopted by Matier, who raised Lucia as her own daughter. Later, Matier directly states that Lucia being adopted doesn't diminish their relationship, and that shared history is more important than blood.

Learning of her true nature was disastrous for Lucia: believing she would eventually become a threat to innocent people, she attacked Dante and demanded that he kill her. She later volunteers for a suicide mission because she sees herself as "expendable". I'm not aware that she ever came to terms with these feelings, and I wonder what would become of her if she no longer had Matier to support her.

I suspect that Nero and Kyrie's dynamic - as it's been said, Nero wouldn't be so well-adjusted without her - would be relatable to Lucia.

Moving on from characters who've been playable (so far), Nico's parentage is extremely important. Her father is Agnus, a scientist who created many kinds of artificial demons for the Order of the Sword, even becoming one himself. Agnus abandoned Nico at an early age, and when her mother died, she was adopted by her uncle, Rock Goldstein, who happens to be the son of Nell Goldstein, the gunsmith who made Ebony and Ivory. Nico became a gunsmith herself, and later used her biological father's research for the benefit of a devil hunter, Nero.

Finally, Kyrie's parents were killed before the events of DMC4, so the only family she had left was her brother Credo. In that game, Credo turns out to have become a demon, and to be involved in a plot by her religious organization to open hell gates in Fortuna to draw out and destroy demons (or something). Once Kyrie is used as bait to capture Nero, Credo turns on his superiors, and is promptly killed for it. Suffice to say, Kyrie must have some very complicated feelings about her family, as well as her religion, but such feelings haven't been made known.

It's also worth noting that Kyrie, along with Nero, has taken in three children - Kyle, Carlo, and Julio - further continuing the theme of adopted family.

With the exception of Lady, all of the characters above have some relationship with an adopted or chosen family. With the exception of Lady and Kyrie, all of them have had apathetic father figures who abandoned, discarded, or used them.

So if we ever get that female-led spinoff game (and it's actually any good), then family should be a major theme. But unlike the main series, this entry should have an additional emphasis on chosen families. And whatever tangible threat the cast faces, it should be one that can be a vehicle to explore those themes.

[thirdrootwriting]

Brother of my Brother (Infinite Crisis - Bad End) pt1

I am sorry if the timeline events of Infinite Crisis here are a bit wonky. Also we are going with Nightwing run version of Jason and Dick's first meeting, bc that one's my favorite.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

The world nearly ended, it does that sometimes. A great, physics-defying colliding of universes and cosmic god-beings that required every sucker that's ever donned spandex -and occasionally some semi-willing, saner rouges- to put their noses to the grindstone , kick some ass, and maybe fart out a few inspirational speeches if you were the friendly paragon type like Superman, the Flashes, or darling Nightwing.

Jason's involvement in the whole thing had been minimal. He'd busted up some of the weird-ass robot things that preceded the main event, spared a whole goddamn sympathetic wince for the poor bastards that had to fight Superman's evil alt-universe son, and knocked around a couple of wannabe thugs that thought Bludhaven getting nuked was a chance to start getting cute with some profiteering or trafficking on his turf in nearby Gotham.

Not too helpful, cause Jason wasn't one of those fools wearing spandex anymore. (He had actual pants now, imagine that!). Not too unhelpful, cause he was a fool choosing to live in Gotham, and he'd prefer his city to not be a radioactive wasteland trashed by robots and mad Kryptonians and his universe not to be melted or unwritten or whatever cosmic bullshit the villain de jour had planned.

Eventually, the dust had settled. Heroes had run back to their claimed cities, the JLA fucked off back to space, and the various tech whizzes had actually started bothering to lock down or shut off the emergency channels they'd thrown together to call out the all hands on deck situation, making it a lot harder for those that weren't exactly invited to the party to listen in.

Leaning back onto his ratty but comfortable couch, in an apartment that edges closer to housing rather than a safehouse, Jason is now instead idly trawling through the official responses published by the JLA, the Titans, and a couple of the more put-together, public facing heroes.

He's not a bad hacker, far better than most, but Jason really only gives a fuck about information relating to Gotham and its vigilantes. (And well, formerly Bludhaven. Sucks to suck, circus boy, looks like even the great Nightwing fails sometimes). There's no way Oracle doesn't have anything Bat-related on lockdown already, and Jason's not fool enough to tangle with her in her home court like that.

He scratches his neck.

Nah, he'd rather not have cop-girl turned surveillance-woman rat out his location or get in his systems cause he'd gotten curious and poked his digital nose into whatever terse, control freak communications Batman was sending to the League and his little solider boys. Jason could just paint a general picture reading between the lines of official, publicly available reports, and then investigate through other, more in-person means after. Shake some people down, break into government offices that sort of thing.

Well, first off, it seemed his snobby little replacement was going to be in Gotham for a while. There's a short, despondent little announcement from knock-off Robin's knock-off Titans that due to the tragic loss of Superboy in the recent crisis, Young Justice would be suspending activity.

It's followed by a short but clumsily sincere little memorial piece about Kon-El, like that's supposed to make up for the fact he's dead, like just posting a couple of cheesy pictures of cook-outs and daylight missions and blubbering out a few sentimental sentences about how kind and heroic the deceased was enough to make up for his violent death.

Jason scratches his neck again. His nails are cut almost to the quick so they don’t catch his skin, don't draw blood, don’t really get rid of the itch.

Batman's more of a problem, as always. He'd never deign to give anything as mundane as a public statement, of course, but the JLA has an actual PR team and a constant need to maintain an image of transparency in front of the general public and its many trigger-happy governments. They've put out a handy list of various commendations being given, memorials being held, and ongoing efforts of various heroes to help with the after effects of the tragedy

Jason idly opens the memorials tab for some rubber-necking after he's finished investigating. He doesn't even bother glancing at the award ceremonies page (no Bat would fucking ever).

Little mention of Batman in any of the rebuilding projects or various JLA committees on preventing this horrible tragedy from ever occurring again . (Even though they all knew something similar would happen in another couple of years, cause the universe  tries to off itself on damn schedule these days).

Jason sighs. Nary a sign of the Bat on anything from the JLA, and the various social pages and gossip rags of Gotham were mostly empty of their favorite drunken fool, Bruce Wayne.

If Jason was lucky (and he never was), the Bat was on some short, international mission that would be finished up before the Red Hood's even had time to finish shaking down air traffic control for their records of Batplane sightings.  If he's unlucky, the old man's on one of his long-term out of the city projects or stupid self-discovery journeys that seemed to mostly involve screwing morally grey spies and assassins.

If he's supremely unlucky, though, Batman's fucked off to space or some alternate dimension to do this this, that, and the other cause he's similar to Jason in at least one regard. Occasionally they had to give a shit about the stability of the universe and the fate of the world, cause that's what Gotham is sitting on.

Uggh, it better not be that last one. Shaking down or threatening a Flash or Lantern would be a goddamn pain and require a fuck-ton of planning (steal some shit from Freeze? Lure the space cop into a sulphur mine? Might just be easier breaking into the Batcave.)

Jason rolls his shoulders face twitching into a grimace. He hasn't decided what he wants to do or say or whatever the next time he sees Batman, but he does know he wants it on his fucking terms. He's never gonna have a moment's peace if he doesn’t' figure out where Batman's lurking.

Shit, worst comes to worst he'll beat the Bat's location out of his shiny new Robin or prod it outta Nightwing who's almost certainly an emotional wreck now that Shithaven's radioactive rubble.

…. Maybe the Red Hood will even buy Nightwing a beer instead of greeting him with a gunshot outta consideration for his loss next they meet. Might be worth it so that Jason can see pretty, perfect Dick Grayson floundering in failure like the rest of the mortal world regularly had too, the prick.

Feeling a bit calmer, Jason settles back into a sprawl and starts casually perusing the JLA's page of memorial announcements for people he might've met with Batman or Dick. He idly scrolls down the page, stopping once in a while to search engine a name that rings absolutely no bells on the off chance it’s a rebranding instead of new-blood or a  total no-name. After all he very much doubts any mid-to-late twenties men are going around calling themselves Aqualad, or fucking Speedy.

Near the bottom of the alphabetically organized page is a blue hyperlink that reads 'Nightwing'.

Jason blinks. Clenches and unclenches his left hand. That's … a weird fucking way to list a memorial for the city of Bludhaven.

He knows a lot of the old core Leaguers like to fawn over Robin Number 1, Superman especially, and that Nightwing's probably the only non-exploded, halfway decent person left willing to admit association  with Shithaven, Gotham's poorer, dirtier little sister-city, but still. Not super tactful.

Jason stares at electric blue of the hyperlink for another couple of seconds, then clicks on it.

'The public memorial for the hero known as Nightwing will be held at 5pm on October 24th on the public access field in front of Titian's Tower. A beloved figure of the hero community, founding member of the Titians, and known associate of Batman, Superman, and many other long time Justice League members …'

The word 'Robin' does not appear once on the entire page, Jason notes hysterically. Like every two-bit thug with half a brain cell left after Batman's regular beatings and Gothamite still sane enough to parse a newspaper don't know that the little, grinning dare-devil child mad enough to take on the night in Gotham armed with nothing but pixie boots and a smile, good enough to not just fucking survive that but stay laughing and kind, like they don't all know he grew up into their migratory bluebird who would swoop between the brighter, outside world and their resident shithole city, returning to the nest to help beat down their rouges, remind Batman to act like a freaking human being, and teasingly rescue little Robins that got in over their heads. Perfect, lucky, Dick Grayson, Gotham's little songbird that got to grow up and stretch his wings.

Jason numbly realizes he's started to chuckle, an ugly smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

A hideous cackling monologue that never really shuts up in the back of his memories laughs and laughs about dead birds, about Batman's failures. The sentences are impossible to fully parse, every other word punctuated by a crack of pain or an ugly giggle.

A soft, sharp, croon in his recently resurrected ears, as Talia-of-his-memory whispers, "Family and love are just pretty, useless words until they've been proven in blood and sacrifice."

Jason hurls the laptop across the room, shattering the bright screen displaying its memorial message against the wall then stalks off to grab his helmet. He needs to see for himself if this is, if Nightwing is . . .

. . . If it is true, he needs to know who. Needs to know badly, insistently, itchingly cause Jason really fucking doubts whatever JLA fuck that wrote the page, or Titan hanger-on that organized that memorial actually loved Richard Grayson that way his brother deserved.

He sure as hell knows their father won't.

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

Six years ago

The first time Jason met his predecessor? (maybe his brother?) went  . . . . alright.

Sure Jason's flubbed the gauntlet test thing that Bruce'd set up, Nightwing dancing circles about him with his fancy flips. Then that had been followed by the older teen basically dragging him about the whole city like a scruffed kitten as they'd raced through the streets to save Alfred dressed as Two-Face.

 On the other hand, they'd basically raced the length of the whole city, bus-surfing and peeping into warehouses, and ended up fighting with some sewer-croc monster to save Alfred dressed as Two-Face cause Batman had flubbed his whole secret test thing worse. Jason had come out of that whole mess not looking too bad in comparison and gotten the official go-ahead to be Robin from both Batman and the original.

He'd parted ways with Dick kinda amicably. Dick had given him his original Robin suit (which was actually pretty cool) and his phone number to call in case Batman was being a 'stoic, immovable, grump' (actually a bit tempting to use cause  Bruce had been snit over his car crash injuries). Jason in turn had passed over the new Nightwing suit Alfred had sewn up and repeated his challenge that he was gonna be even better as Robin so Dick'd better watch out (he'd gotten a raised eyebrow  and a sigh again).

Not bad or anything. No hitting, no screaming (at him anyway, he's fairly certain Nightwing and Batman had it out behind his back at some point). No angry demands about who let a grubby, homeless kid have Robin's costume.

Still, Jason felt like Nightwing was just humoring him, and it rankled. Worse, was he knew why. In contrast to Jason's rather lackluster first night as Robin, Batman had shown him clips of Nightwing's Gotham debut right before he sent him out to catch him, and really those said it all.

A smiling young man in midnight blue and bright gold on a playful rampage through Gotham's darkness, a grinning Batgirl in tow. He knocks out street thugs with a showy, graceful kick on one screen, raids the Iceburg Lounge and talks down to Pengiun with an grinning, effusive, confidence on another, and on the final screen on the bottom right breaks into Arkham to play a prank on the fucking Joker, the clown's angry threats near drowned out by his fearless, undaunted laughter as he slips away.

"This is Nightwing" says Batman. "He'll be your test."

"That's Robin." Realizes Jason. "He's what I've got to live up to."

[langernameohnebedeutung]

The thing is, if the Borderlands ever really happens and if it's successful enough to warrant a sequel or even start a franchise (doubtful, with the way franchises and blockbusters are doing at the box office rn) and if they choose to include Nisha at some point and if they choose to be true to her characterisation from the games in any meaningful capacity (biggest fear: casting some white lady a cowboy hat give her a one-line cameo in the tenth movie of the franchise), I do find myself wondering how what would be the most interesting way to do it:

Either: They choose to go in the same order as the games and make Borderlands 2 before Pre-Sequel: (pro: legendary game and legendary characters, people would be hyped enough for it to forgive possible sins of Borderlands 1, contra: not chronological), they would be introducing her as the Sheriff of Lynchwood first. This might be a little difficult for a movie because Lynchwood is not part of the main storyline so they would have to find a way to tie it back into the main Vault-Hunting/Stop-Handsome Jack/Defeat the Warrior lot. I could see them giving Nisha the role of some sort of danger following behind - the main characters just hear occasionally some rumours or see some signs that someone is following them, inquiring about them, having some goons report on them until there is eventually a twist (much like the Wilhelm fight) until she suddenly shows up in a vulnerable moment and almost ruins everything. The other option is that they do find a plot-reason to go to Lynchwood and the events unfold similarly to the way they happened in the game.

Or: They choose to do Pre-Sequel before Borderlands 2 in order to do things in a more logical order

Now, I feel like this provides some really fun options actually because here we get Nisha as a member of the main-gang and she's a pretty multi-faceted character:

they could focus on the seemingly 'chill, laid-back' aspect of her character first, possibly even introducing her as being somewhat relatable to Timothy because she's not a freaking stoic freaking soldier warrior war-machine like Wilhelm or Athena or as extra as Aurelia (I love you, queen) or ...well...Claptrap being Claptrap, so he starts out being somewhat grateful to have someone "normal" around - until she gets going and he finds out that there are Some Very Fundamental Things Wrong About This Woman

they could lean into the hero/lawbringer side and introduce her that way (this would also make sense if they did Borderlands 2 first and the audience knows her as the Sheriff of Lynchwood) and introduce her during the fight against the bandits on the Hyperion rocket in the opening of Borderlands TPS as someone who just really hates bandits and wants order for the universe - except then we begin to find out that she's also wanted for a BUNCH of crimes - which is where were get into the "the bandit who hunts bandits" thing - except as the movie goes on, we realise that she really always was that way and it's not so much a story about her losing herself or losing any ethical perspective but that she's really taking on a form and taking on roles that allow her to exert the violence she craves.

They could start with the "token evil team member" role right away (I mean, Wilhelm and Aurelia are also Wilhelm and Aurelia but Wilhelm is at best neutral evil and the whole point of Aurelia is that she does in the end become disgusted with what Jack is doing, while from Nish's perspective, Jack is (slowly, and arguably never completely) catching up to her level of single-minded viciousness and sadism.

Another thing I can imagine (because they cannot do the audio logs the way they did in the games) that the characters get a really quick O-Ren Ishii-style introduction with their backstories in different styles that fit the theme of their characters (e.g. a western style for Nisha)

[fruit-salad-ship]

For Pirate AU, the realization Peach has that now she has another immortal friend. Maybe she hasn’t quite come to grips with her romantic feelings for Plum yet, but she still has a new companion for the ages to come. On the flip side, Plum coming to the realization that she’s going to outlive almost everyone she’s ever known. Grey, her crew, any family she may be on good terms with…. And peach comforting her by saying she’ll stay by her side through the years to come, if Plum wants her to

See, theres a moment here that doesnt line up, in that Plum will realise she will live forever, and contemplate that for a couple months quietly to herself, seems to spend more time with everyone, try to connect to them all while she still can, spending time on each member of the crew so that they feel seen and loved. This is after all her family, and those related to her by blood were far from ideal, and ignored her wants and needs, so she's made this new safe group of people who all love each other, a ride or die group. But even now, she wonders what her actual relatives would think, would she miss them one day, would she regret not trying to communicate with them? She does not know. Grey sees her drift away a little more, asks whats wrong and she just seems preoccupied with thoughts of her old home. They were traditional people who wanted her to marry, be a stay at home wife, bare children, do all the painfully ordinary things she just didnt want, and scorned her when she ran away for adventure and exploration. She writes them letters but never recieves any in return, assuming they have cast her out permanently. Grey is...as consoling as he could be, he lost his family a while back and never had good relations with them either, but understands that quiet wandering, the 'what if'.

Eventually Plum and Peach have a moment alone, and it comes to the attention of the second in command that the captains sad, or...just preoccupied with thoughts of forever.

Peach feels fear stir, putting her hand on the womans shoulder beside her.

"Plum, you are NOT immortal." Peach knows this first hand, through monumental, devestating loss. "You still have to be careful, you will live for a long time, potentially forever if youre careful, but you could be killed by any solid hit to a vital point. It may take more to do it, but you still have vulnerabilities." And that fear becomes more powerful, she'd lost one Levithian, she was not prepared to lose another. "If trouble starts you run, you'll be the biggest target on deck looking like that, we can handle things without you being at the front, i'll keep the crew safe." A notion the captain refused to accept.

"I wont leave my family here, or you, not if fights start, we work as one. You can't stop me." She was right, as the leader of this ship, as a now powerful sea monster, she was free to make any choices she wanted and not a lot could stop her. Plum sees a normally calm woman beside her rub her head with a stressed expression, the sigh as she watched, planned her next scentence carefully.

"Well." Her tired eyes sat on the Levithian for one more moment, for a brief second she truly eminated the stubborness of her wife. "At least you've got some company for the long ride. If you want it." Peach looks away, back to the horizon, gulls on the wind as land sat close enough to see small specs, humans living their lives in the port there.

The little head leant on the immortals shoulder was a little surprising, a tentacle finding its way to her shoulder to pull her closer.

"I'd like that."

They sat, said nothing, a strange settling company knowing neither had to walk alone for a while, if they were careful. Peach hoped to whatever unkind, unfair god that may be out there, that they could just be careful.

[devilofthehounds]

God Eater 3 Character Novel | Unstained Choice: Chapter 4

[image id: A novel cover. On the right side is Claire Victorious from God Eater 3, holding her Charge Spear-type God Arc and staring off into the distance with determination. On the left side is a young Claire, holding a handkerchief in her hand and looking sad. In the background is a Gleipnir banner. The text, when translated into English, reads “God Eater 3 Character Novel | Chapter 3: Claire Edition | Unstained Choice”. /end id]

This is a fan translation. Original text here.

Masterpost 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Several years had passed since my determination replaced the promised handkerchief wrapped around my hand with a red armlet.

At eighteen years of age, I lived my days as a member of Gleipnir.

Gleipnir 6th Engineering Battalion, Special Transport Unit. Our primary mission was transporting supplies to the front lines.

Compared to when my father and brother led House Victorious, my days were less than glamorous.

From the day I decided to become a God Eater, I began to study medicine in earnest. The first aid skills I acquired earned me an excellent reputation within Gleipnir.

"With you keeping us safe, I can concentrate on the enemy." Those were the words of a God Eater I didn't know the name of; one of the few commendations I'd received since joining Gleipnir.

Just a little bit of kindness could transcend status and position, connecting people and saving their hearts.

After that day, I began studying medicine in the hope that I'd have more opportunities to do so, but I never imagined it'd earn me such a spotlight in my daily life as a God Eater.

I still had the handkerchief from that day in my bag, cleaned of all stains, as a good luck charm to support my unwavering resolve.

Although I hadn't yet fulfilled that promise, I looked forward to the day I eventually would.

Rumors about her had spread so far throughout Gleipnir that they had even reached my ears.

Along with a disparaging epithet.

"An operation for developing new routes...?"

After a recent transport mission, a sudden announcement was made to those assembled at Port Arrowhead, Gleipnir's headquarters.

"I heard it'll be a large-scale operation to reestablish navigational routes around Arrowhead. They'll be mobilizing all Gleipnir units. After returning, we're to wait at the Port until the operation starts."

The sudden announcement of the large-scale operation had perplexed even the captain.

After returning to Arrowhead and unloading the cargo, our mission was complete. We had been ordered to wait at the Port until the start of the operation.

"By any chance, would you happen to be Claire Victorious?"

As I sat idly by with nothing to do, I heard someone call out to me from behind.

A man with an aristocratic demeanor approached, bowing graciously.

"It's wonderful to meet you. I have been waiting for an opportunity to speak with you like this for quite some time."

"...I'm sorry. I have a mission to attend to. If you'll excuse me."

It seemed like it would be a hassle. I turned and tried to get away as quickly as possible.

"Please wait a moment. I've already confirmed the completion of your unit's mission. I would very much like to deepen relations with the head of House Victorious."

He grabbed my arm and cut off my escape route.

People like this came along from time to time. He was probably just another aristocrat from a noble family looking to establish connections with House Victorious.

The man continued to hold my arm and began talking at length about himself, leaving me at a loss until—

"Searching for a bride at this time of night? Even if it's for the sake of your family, you seem pretty eager."

A woman came down from the nearby stairs.

"Ah...!"

Seeing her took my breath away.

"Hmph, you... What do you want?"

The man muttered under his breath as she approached.

"Oh, pardon me. You seemed to be enjoying yourselves, so I thought I'd join you. ...Now that I think about it, you were chatting up another girl the other day, weren't you? Are you getting along with her as well?"

Lifting the edge of her mouth suggestively, the woman casually stepped between us.

"Perhaps you're the type to shower wonderful woman with love equally. In that case, I'd love the chance to get to know you better. What do you say?"

"...Such an eyesore. Just you wait, you fragging hyena."

With a loud click of his tongue, the man left.

The woman sighed and turned towards me.

Beautiful silver hair and cold, sharp eyes. Her captivating smile and refined manners seemed even more polished.

"U-Um...!"

We'd finally met, but as for what to say—

"Lady Claire Victorious, I believe. My apologies for the intrusion."

With those words, the woman in front of me bowed respectfully.

A deep sense of despair came over me.

She didn't remember me.

No wonder. We'd only spoken once, when we were children.

I knew it was unreasonable to think she would remember me.

Still, it felt incredibly painful to see one of the lights that had supported me disappear without a trace.

"...Not at all. Thank you very much."

I managed to answer her, my voice trembling. I bit my lip. Was bringing up that day even a good idea?

It was such a brazen move. It would probably just confuse her.

In that case, it would be better to leave it forgotten—

"Heh... Heheh... Ahahahaha! That face! You look like a lost little kid!"

Suddenly, the woman burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Huh...?"

"Sorry. I was just teasing because I knew you'd remember."

Standing in my tear-filled vision, the woman elegantly brushed her silver hair aside and adjusted her posture.

"Gleipnir Special Ash Crawler Battalion, Assault Infantry Unit, 2nd Medical Corps, Captain Eir Albert. That's my title now. Long time, no see, Claire Victorious."

"Eir...!"

I firmly shook Eir's hand as she proudly proclaimed her title of captain.

I couldn't have been happier that the bond we'd forged that day was still intact like this.

"Hey, don't cry, you're being dramatic."

"But... But...!"

"You're just as much a crybaby as you were back then... We have a lot to talk about, so how about some tea? I'd say I'm a much better escort than that brainless aristocrat from earlier, wouldn't you?"

Of course. It had been a long time since I had been able to smile at someone.

Eir's room was lined with academic books on every subject as far as the eye could see.

"If there's a book that catches your eye, I'll lend it to you. I've read them all."

"All of them...?"

Just how much time had she devoted to that task?

The flame of ambition I'd seen in Eir's eyes back then still seemed to be burning undiminished to this day.

"You've become captain... Congratulations."

"Along with plenty of bad press."

While elegantly brewing tea, Eir took a stab at the unsettling topic.

I had heard many dark rumors about her.

Despite being a medic, she ravaged the battlefield in her lust for glory. She'd even killed her previous captain, taking their place. The Demon of the Medical Corps, Eir Albert.

The man's words from earlier—a hyena killing her fellow comrades—came to mind.

"...Such a terrible rumor. It couldn't possibly be true."

I muttered under my breath, suppressing the anger welling up in my chest.

But then—

"What if it were true?"

Suddenly, spine-chillingly cold arms were draped around me from behind.

"If, in order to restore House Albert, taking a life has become a trivial task for me... How would you feel?"

As she pressed her body against mine, Eir whispered seductively in my ear.

Without a second thought, I brushed her off.

"You shouldn't play the villain like that, you know."

Even when faced with such an ambush, I didn't flinch.

"I don't believe it. It's a stupid rumor."

Though not meaning to imitate her, I snorted in exasperation and laughed at the joke.

She'd do anything to achieve her ambitions. Her words were probably true.

But she wouldn't hurt anyone for that goal. Nor would she do anything that would cause her to throw away her pride. ...At least, that was what I believed.

Because she worked harder than anyone else to achieve her ambitions and continued to produce results, she had gained a number of enemies who disparaged her. That was all there was to it.

"...Right."

Eir muttered in a bored tone, as if teasing me was no longer worth the effort.

There was no mistaking the small smile that graced her lips.

"Well, let's put that aside for now. ...What do you think about the route development operation, Claire?"

After placing the freshly brewed tea on the table, Eir sat across from me.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a captain, after all. Lots of information graces my ears. Still, this operation really did come out of the blue."

Eir steepled her fingers in thought.

"Something happened that's big enough to move the entirety of Gleipnir. Or... it could be a rehearsal for an even bigger operation."

"A bigger operation...?"

"This is just a guess, but I'm certain this operation will lead to something big."

"I see... Then, this is a chance for you to make a name for yourself."

I said it casually, thinking Eir was planning to seize the opportunity for herself.

But contrary to my expectations, Eir remained silent, staring off into space.

"Yeah... Right..."

It seemed out of character for her to hesitate like that. But the next moment, Eir's usual fearless smile returned.

"Well, I'll do my best to knock the socks off those pompous jerks."

"Heheh, you really haven't changed at all, Eir. I'm actually kind of relieved."

"What? Are you really so happy that the higher-ups hate me?"

"That's not what I meant... I've always wanted you to fulfill your dream. I'm glad you're getting closer."

As Eir stared at me, taken aback, I opened my bag.

"Finally, I can fulfill my promise."

I timidly handed Eir the handkerchief I had treasured for so long.

"No way... Have you been carrying it around all this time?"

"Mm-hm. It meant a lot to me..."

From that day until now. And even once it left my possession.

It would continue to be a memory that would support my heart.

I wanted to return the handkerchief to Eir, who had led me so far.

"...Heh. Well then, I'll take it back as promised. I've been needing a dust cloth."

"I-I'd appreciate it if you'd treat it a bit more carefully..."

"Ahaha, I'm just kidding. ...Thanks. I'll take good care of it."

I'd been able to repay Eir's kindness from back then—with a little something in return from me.

"We've both been running around the Ashlands in caravans for a while now, so we don't get to see each other often... but it was good seeing you again."

"Yeah. I was happy to see you, too."

The paths we'd set our sights on that day would continue into the future.

Of that, I was certain.

"Good luck on the mission, Eir."

"...Yeah. You, too."

With cheerful expressions, we shook hands tightly.

The time we had spent together was still so short.

And yet, the time I spent with Eir was invaluable to me.

Translator's Note

[burstingsunrise]

If you managed to process it, I would love to hear a story about your experience at Luke's Fonda show🥰 No pressure though, only if you want😊

funny timing for this, i wrote up a little summary post a while ago and have been kind of working up to posting it.

it's hard, because how do you adequately summarize something that means so much to you? it feels like nothing i say will be enough, but i do want to share some things about it, because i think that will help it feel real. thank u for asking and providing the encouragement. <3 emo bullet points ahead! i tried to focus mainly on show-related things but this experience wasn't just important to me because of the shows, so some of the other stuff sneaks in.

that’s the first thing. it didn’t feel real, and it still kind of doesn’t. because i was only there for a few days, and i spent every morning getting coffee with meg and every night seeing luke perform my favorite album. like…that’s not real. that can’t be real. 

accidentally but unsurprisingly coordinating outfits with meg on night one. the scientology recruiter on the sidewalk recognizing us from the day before when we’d walked by.

stress buying armloads of merch from an incredibly patient and probably at least somewhat high guy who immediately forgot about me, but who i will probably forever remember fondly.

roy and the mustard having a chat in the balcony.

standing in the crowd waiting for the first show to start. all of the anticipation mixed with all these different emotions, and then finally luke appears on stage. sings the opening of a beautiful dream. the lights shine on him more brightly as it crescendos and we finally get a good look at him. i turn to meg and i say “he’s so sparkly.”

comedown on night one. hearing “let me see all the things that i was supposed to see” while i was there. seeing it.

being able to look over at meg meaningfully when certain things happened during the shows, including but not limited to luke’s gratuitous displays of ass. poetic, really.

leaving the venue night one, in a daze. one of the security guys saying “have a good night” on our way out the door. he had no idea. no fucking idea what we’d just been through. have a good night! now that your lives have been changed forever! sausages on the sidewalk.

collapsing in the hotel lobby, quietly reviewing photos and videos, actually being able to do it openly and to talk about it or not talk about it, and to finally start to have it sink in.

staying up way too late, and eventually falling asleep in my new luke shirt.

the woman with the intense boston accent who hopped on the elevator and immediately asked me if the hotel had a coffee shop with a level of desperation in her voice that spoke to me deeply.

finding sam and meghna in line for night two, and the strange euphoria of speaking openly about things I almost never can to people i just met, but also already knew. being annoying and posting the same palm trees. wishing it would have worked out for emie to be there too.

grabbing meg’s hand to pull her into the crowd on night two. the feeling of relief. somehow we did it. two nights, two shows, two opportunities for everything to go wrong, but actually everything (or at least the things that mattered most) went right.

every time luke gazed our direction, on night two, which felt like a lot, and how every time it was kind of unbearable in the best way. because it’s him and because he was singing songs that mean so much to me while it felt like he was staring into my soul, and because i could look over at meg and know she knew exactly what i was feeling.

the shows going by so fast. i tried so hard to be in the moment and appreciate every second, but it was such a strange, out of body experience. this was something i’d daydreamed about and pictured in my head, but i never thought it was a real possibility. and even in my daydreams, i couldn’t fathom being that close to luke and being there with meg while it happened. it felt surreal that these things were actually happening to me.

the way luke smiled during the breakdown in mum, but also looked like he was dying so beautifully during place in me. admiring his large mouth during slip away. (it really does some riveting things to hit those points of emphasis.)

all the times he ran his hands through his hair to push it back off his forehead. all the times it fell right back where it was. the way he started the shows with it styled, but by comedown it was already just a perfect mess.

his silver nails and his new necklaces and the way his eyes sparkled.

night two, when luke started singing the new bloodline verse. that moment of “what is this? i don’t know this?” it hits different when it’s a song you know so well it’s like it’s a part of you, and suddenly there’s something new to it. thinking about those new lyrics, where they came from, how long they’ve existed, when and why luke decided to add them in, but just for night two.

the talking breaks, ranging from “i’m fuckin’ terrified” early on night one to “can you see my nipples in this shirt” late on night two. octopuses hanging from the ceiling. he didn’t know if anyone would like the album. but he knows we like to scream. making the album was such a very him thing to do, and it’s friday, and he’s in love.

the confetti cannon going off during starting line on night two, being positioned so it rained confetti into my hair, into my purse, down my shirt. it was blue and white and silver because of course it was, because luke thinks about these things.

his smiles and waves and little bows at the end. the shuffle step off stage and the way i watched his back disappear into the darkness until i couldn’t see him at all.

spending both shows with my hands clasped over my heart. it wasn’t a conscious choice. it’s just where they landed.

being stuck in the crowd after the night two show ended, surrounded by groups of people taking pictures of each other’s mascara tears or lying facedown in the confetti. seeing myself in some of those photos a few days later on twitter. and not just those photos - photos from the stage too. the photo luke posted (and took down). and the photo where meg and i are looking up at him with lovestruck smiles.

walking down hollywood boulevard at night, almost silent. walking down the other side of hollywood boulevard the next night, dodging drunk people, talking about luke’s nipples.

making the most absurd pouty face and waving pathetically on the elevator as i left meg on the 9th floor for the last time, then trying not to sob stepping out onto the 16th.

the trip home. feeling physically awful from several days living on iced lattes, kind bars, and no sleep. emotionally drained, sad to be leaving luke and la and meg. sitting at the airport, wishing i could be with my friends at the beach instead.

getting home, unpacking, tucking away my confetti for safekeeping. so incredibly happy but also so devastated to know that it really is possible to have it all, but only for a few days. grateful i had the chance at all, and that it worked out as well as it did.

[honeybearee]

Emotional Motion Sickness

Grief was a boulder tied around your waist, destined to be dragged uphill forever.

At first so dense and all-consuming that every motion was a slog that left your bones achy, as if you were carrying the dead on your very back, parading them along day after day as everyone tried to look around the rotting corpse that hung heavy over her shoulders.

Anna had learned that, over time whether it be through practice or sheer force of will, grief would eventually wither down into a pebble. And while that made it easier to get through each day, it also meant that it was less predictable. She was never quite sure what it was that made it snap against the ground in a new and particularly painful way until it was too late and she'd already been smacked in the skull with it.

Surprisingly lately it had been the pebble that was her Mother. These days she felt like she found her in quick flashes in the mirror, in the freckles of her aging hands, in the way she laughed - even if these days it felt more like hearing a song playing off in the distance somewhere, familiar but difficult to make out clearly. All things that made perfect sense with Jesse's wedding looming ever closer.

The hands of time never stopped moving, Mel and Beau were getting older and she dreaded to think that they'd be gone before she got married or had kids. It was bad enough she hadn't been able to give her Father any of those treasured moments before it was too late - maybe it had been selfish of her to not have simply settled into a life with Max; surely she'd be married with 2 kids running around by now, too preoccupied with a totally different set of problems to be so caught up in the daily slog of simply trying to exist from day to day like some sort of ghost floating from room to room.

Maybe she could just grow up to be the cool older lady on the block who held large holiday festivities for people who had nowhere else to go - figures even in her wildest fantasy she still amounted to someone whose sole purpose was to take care of other people. Was it really so hard to find someone who could both love that part of her personality, while still realizing how desperate she was for a break from it?

Someone who would could lift all the stress with a simple I know you can do it, but let me.

"Hm? Sorry" she smiled apologetically as she moved around in the dress, practicing some goofy dance moves and throwing some finger guns just to make sure the dress sat perfectly right, "I think it's perfect, thank you!" she said, popping off the high heels she'd brought with her, ready to switch back into her regular clothes.

"Knock, knock!" Mel's voiced chimed in its usual singsong way as she poked her head in, "just wanted to see how my girl was doing?"

Anna smiled warmly at her, "I'm great! Dress fits perfectly! I still have some stuff to finish before the luncheon - you don't think Jess will mind if I slip out a little early, right?" she asked, sliding her bag over shoulder.

"You sure you don't need any last minute help? I bet Ca-"

"Oh no, that's okay. I've got it!" she assured the woman, cutting her off as politely as she could, already knowing exactly where she was headed with that line of thinking. Mel had already blown up her phone with texts as soon as she'd heard about the two of them making up. Who could blame her though, as a Mother it made sense that she'd want all her kids getting along - and really what was Anna if not a child that they'd all but adopted, just with less paperwork involved.

Plus there was no way she was about to drag Cam into anything related to a wedding when she could only assume it was already hard enough if him and Cristina really were separating. Had he used that word, or had she just made the assumption based on how he'd phrased it? Either way, it was clear that Cristina and weddings were a raw nerve for him - at least just gauging on the way he seemed so suddenly uncomfortable when he'd stepped foot into her house last - and she wasn't about to press it.

Clearly they both still had a lot to figure out.

----------

Anna to admit she was really proud of what she'd managed to pull together. What had once been the remains of a bridal luncheon bomb that had gone off in her house, had now been transformed meticulously - at least as far as anyone was concerned, but she figured no one would be wandering around into the guest room to dig through all the boxes of crap that she'd have to end up donating.

She always had a habit of doing too much - or at least she'd been told that over the years time and again as if it were some sort of negative. It never really made sense to her, if you cared for someone then weren't you supposed to do things to make them feel seen and cared for.

It felt like most people didn't appreciate how quickly she was willing to fully immerse herself in a new person she'd met who she really liked. It was almost as if she were trying to fast-forward through the awkward getting to know stage and straight into that familiar comfort that came from years of intimately knowing each other. More than that, really, she was looking for the ease that had come so naturally with Cam, even when they were kids it never felt like she had to be anything other than her most authentic self.

Even now, when it had been 3 years of silence, it was still easier with him than it had been with anyone else.

As if on cue, her phone chimed again and she couldn't help but to smile down at it as she typed off another quick reply to him. It was nice to be making plans and laughing again, even if some small part of her still felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop - for him to go back and change his mind and disappear all over again.

Thankfully she didn't have much time to dwell on the thought as her door swung open, bringing with it the chaos and chatter that usually accompanied any large gathering of excited women.

It was nice being flooded by so much activity, so many different things happening that she barely had time to do much of anything except float from table to table offering assistance until she eventually relented and sat down long enough to actually participate rather than feel like it was her job to hover.

Popping a completed flower crown on her head, she headed back inside sneaking a quick peek at her phone again, a laugh that was a little too loud broke free from her gut at the stupid meme Cam had just sent her, as she shot off another quick response. She was just about to set the phone down when the familiar voice made her feel like she'd just been caught red-handed,

"Don't you look chipper," Hannah teased, leaning across the counter to study Anna, "that my idiot brother?" she asked, her head dipping toward the phone.

"Be nice! He apologized and we're on good terms..."

"Psht, yeah, what'd he do? Pull the ole grilled cheese move?" Hannah scoffed,

"... Well yeah, but when you say it like that it sounds cheap. It was nice that he remembered, okay? And he apologized and we're fine now, so...

"You don't think - "

"I think," Anna cut her off before she could get any further, "that it's nice to have my friend back after a really long time, and I think that I'd be just as happy if it were you or Jesse who suddenly came back after so long because I think we all make mistakes and deserve the chance to make up for them," she said mostly into the half-empty glass of rosé, the familiar toastiness of the alcohol settling in as she reached for her phone again, "do you think I should ask him to go to the rehearsal dinner with me?" she blurted out, reaching for her phone.

She was just about to add that it was merely an idea of convenience since they lived so close to each other and were going to the same place - why not just take one car and save on gas and mileage and...

it did't get very far before Hannah was already out of her seat, grabbing the phone out of her hands and chucking it on the couch as she dragged Anna back into the party "yeah well I think I'm cutting you off."

----------

"Are you sure you don't need any more help, sweetie?" Mel asked, bringing in the last round of dishes from outside.

"Nope! I'm all set here. You guys get going before it gets any later," she assured the woman. It was clear Hannah had been ready to go for a while by the way she kept glancing at her watch and checking her phone. Anna knew by now that Hannah liked to be home before El's bedtime to tuck him in, and they were already pushing it, especially with still having to drop Mel off.

"Oh hey, don't forget these!" she chased after the woman holding out a bag full of leftovers she'd packed away. She'd spent far too much time and energy on making so many things from scratch only to have to toss them at the end of the night. At least that's what she told herself - that it was a practical decision and not one based on the sheer hope that Cam might come across them and that they would offer him yet another reminder of how nice it really could be to be home again.

Of how nice it could be to let yourself be cared for again.