#jury duty with spirit

[ch0kehold-ch3rry-pyth0n]

I've been tagging my own posts more often recently. And to be honest, my most favorite tags are the ones that are just "___ with spirit". It could be used for anything. What endless possibilities that tag format holds.

#shitposts with spirit #confessions with spirit #bitching with spirit #vehicular manslaughter with spirit #robbing a bank with spirit #strangling venus with spirit #mass genocide with spirit #jury duty with spirit #tax fraud with spirit #leaving plastic eye rings from ebay in Idia's room in places he won't find them with spirit

[lovelyjamesblog]

From Tik Tok. Does James Marsden play himself as Cyclops?

#james marsden #scott summers #cyclops #x men #marvel #2024 film independent spirit awards #jury duty freeve #tiktok

[jamesmarsdenfan]

James Marsden poses in the IMDb Portrait Studio at the 2024 Independent Spirit Awards on February 25, 2024 in Santa Monica, California. (Photo by Emma McIntyre/Getty Images for IMDb)

#james marsden #2024 film independent spirit awards #santa monica #California #jury duty freeve

[4sensesplusascarf]

The judge dismissing me from jury duty after I've rambled on about the dangers of blindly upholding the law without knowing its origin, purpose, and penalties, and without regard for the humanity of all involved, plus the fact that, while I would try to remain impartial, it is impossible for any human being to be truly objective

#jury duty #Spirit #not the answer they were looking for I guess! #the question was about whether or not we could each uphold the law even if it seemed ridiculous to us #and my response was probably annoying but I just really need something to make sense to me in order for me to be able to work with it #another sign of undiagnosed autism perhaps? who knows!!

[jimmarsden-fuckingblog]

James Marsden on what makes a good ensemble. Source Deadline

#james marsden #jury duty freeve #Deadline #2024 film independent spirit awards

[legendarymoonsong]

From jennifer_buonantony's Instagram: Jury Duty cast interview by @pressoassla during the 2024 Film Independent Spirt Awards

#james marsden #jury duty freeve #maria russel #mekki leaper #2024 film independent spirit awards

[burningmarsdenss]

Repost from Instagram filmindependent.

#james marsden #film independent spirit awards #jury duty freevee

[jimmy-s-closet]

Reuters on TikTok. James shares some of his worries while filming "Jury Duty"

#james marsden #jury duty freeve #film independent spirit awards

[lovetojppiratequeen]

#jury duty freevee #james marsden #2024 film independent spirit awards

[luckydiorxoxo]

James Marsden attends the 2024 Film Independent Spirit Awards.

#james marsden #2024 film independent spirit awards #jury duty

[caedogeist-rights]

the facts of the case: in the canonical ace attorney timeline there was (is???) an established jury system (old enough to have half-forgotten old rules abt it) in england in c. 1900. [it may be fanon but there are also possibly jury systems in europe in 2019-2026.] there is no jury in japanifornia (and probably also the whole US) in the 21st c., even after it was proposed and in development in 2027. and, if i remember correctly, the US used to have a jury system, but very long ago.

conclusion: there is a very obvious reason why only two games in all ten ace attorney games (aa1-6, aai1-2, dgs1-2) have an actual jury for the majority of cases (aa is a minimalist game and also started out on the game boy advance in 2001). post 2027 it is.... still a problem of altering the basic structure of Like Half of the judicial system (phoenix wright is responsible for jury duty in this universe. btw.) so im gonna say they probably need five years for it. thats fine. but in universe.... considering the fact that the UK probably still has a jury system (maybe.).... and afaik the US used to have a jury very long ago.... which fuckin american politician in the 1800s decided to get rid of the jury.

#grin talk #im just trying to. organize my thoughts. #ive learned things abt the order in which the aa games were developed and it makes things. a lot more clear. #for instance: why investigations is Like That (rough but full of spirit) and why dgs is also Like That (good) #but the. jury. i want a modern aa game with a jury. i want phoenix to be credited as the man responsible for inventing jury duty. #imagine the hijinks. #btw theres. so much of this has [idk if this is canon or fanon] im so sorry. theres so much media in this series. so many words.

[cerinslair]

d66 Ways to Explain This Player Character’s Brief Absence

Aw beans, one of your players couldn’t show up to tonight’s game. Here’s 36 ways to explain why their character is missing just for this session! Roll a d66 (rolling one d6 for the tens-digit and another d6 for the ones-digit) or choose an option that makes sense for your situation.

For brevity, “PC” will be used in place of the missing player character’s name.

11: PC had previously sworn an oath to a wizard they were indebted to, granting the wizard one-time power and authority to temporarily summon PC to them whenever they require their aid. The wizard is cashing in right now.

12: PC found a cursed scroll which temporarily turns them into an incorporeal spirit, forced to haunt the other player characters undetected until they learn some moral lesson the scroll wants them to learn.

13: A faerie spirit on a quest for revenge mistook PC for someone else and stole them away in the night. They’ll return PC once they realize their mistake.

14: The battle of two quarreling chronomancers blew through your location, and PC fell into a time-rift left in the wake of one of the wizard’s attacks, sending them into the (near) future.

15: Aliens abducted PC but will return them when they prove too difficult to contain/experiment on.

16: PC finds themself trapped in a time-loop, and eventually discovers that they only way to escape is to avoid contact with the other player characters for the duration of the loop.

21: PC overheard something the other player characters said about them out of context and misinterpreted it in a way that greatly upset them. They sneak away to abandon the group when no one is looking but return upon realizing it was all a misunderstanding.

22: PC has an important family (or other personal) matter to attend to that requires their swift response, as it involves legal recourse surrounding the disappearance of someone close to them. They will return once it is settled.

23: A scatter-brained wizard’s apprentice studying teleportation magic accidentally switches places with PC, teleporting them to their mentor’s tower an impossible distance away. The apprentice thinks they can figure out a way to swap back with PC if given some time on their own. They hope PC hides in their study until they do – their master tends to fireball intruders on-sight and ask questions later.

24: PC has been possessed by a ghost, who will return control of their body to them once they complete some task the ghost wasn’t able to finish before they died.

25: PC stepped away to refill their water, and got turned around on their way back. They wandered around lost a while, but will find their way to the other player characters eventually.

26: A faerie spirit decided they fancied PC and whisked them away to the faerie realm in an attempt to seduce them. They’ll return PC once they realize they aren’t their type.

31: An enterprising minor demon wants to strike a bargain with PC and teleports the two of them to the top of a tower in an attempt to show off. However, the demon’s pitch is not going well, especially when it’s revealed they lack the power to get them both back down again without resting a while first.

32: PC is called in for jury duty, and either has to serve their time or go to the local magistrate to appeal for a waiver.

33: PC ran into an old friend and went to catch up with them over some drinks. However, the two of them got held up by some of the friend’s newest adversaries.

34: PC is avoiding the other player characters while they prepare a surprise for one or all of them – a gift, or a party to commemorate a certain event like an anniversary or holiday.

35: PC is troubled by recent events – related to the group’s adventures, or external to them – and wants some time alone to clear their head.

36: PC has been haunted by dreams of a symbol in a dark room. They spot this symbol on a stray cat and can’t help but investigate. It seems to be leading them somewhere, but only if they follow it alone.

41: PC is visited by the restless spirit of a friend long gone. Their ghost wants to tell PC a secret – a secret that they must take to their own grave – and leads them away from the rest of the player characters.

42: PC has been struck by sudden inspiration for a work of art, and they simply must bring it into the world before the inspiration fades.

43: PC received an ominous warning from a fortune teller to stay away from [events of today’s session] and is keeping a safe distance just in case.

44: PC is having a crisis of faith in themselves after recent events and takes off on their own for a while until they reassure themselves of their skill. Training montage optional.

45: PC is sent a threatening message by one of their adversaries telling them that if they don’t leave the group, their allies will be made to suffer for it. They leave, believing it to be some heroic self-sacrifice. They return once they realize they are all stronger together, and only with each other’s help can they defeat the adversary’s threat.

46: PC tried to follow an “astral projecting for dummies” guide as a joke, but ended up separated from their body until they figured out how to stop.

51: PC ran afoul of a witch years ago, who tried to curse PC with eternal sleep. However, the witch got their arcane verb-tenses mixed up. So instead, PC was cursed to sleep through a specific date and time. That date is today.

52: PC is shown something that causes them to doubt if their cause is the right one, and leaves until they can find out the truth. They return when what they were shown is proven to be a fabrication by their adversary to mislead them.

53: PC leaves the group because they feel their contributions aren’t appreciated enough. They return after some self-reflection reveals they weren’t feeling unappreciated, they were feeling jealous.

54: PC is feeling extremely ill today. If your group has access to magical disease relief, specify that such relief will still take time to affect whatever sickness has befallen PC – it will just relieve some of the pain in the meantime. Until then, they require rest.

55: PC must take a day off for an important religious observance of their faith.

56: PC received a message from a character they flirted with in town, inviting PC to come visit them for some fun. They sure are taking their time coming back.

61: A minor celebrity from one of PC’s niche interests is going to be in town sort-of-but-not-really nearby, and PC just can’t miss this opportunity to meet them!

62: PC accidentally stumbled into the secret hidden lair of a C-list villain. It will take them a little bit of time to escape on their own.

63: PC saw a rare, elusive mystical beast, prized by many, such as a unicorn. They chased after this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and will return very disappointed.

64: PC is in a sour mood after accidentally breaking a sentimental keepsake, and just wants to be alone for a while.

65: PC insulted a wizard, who responded by turning PC into a pile of rats. Rats, plural. We’ll have to collect all of them up before they can be changed back.

66: PC is just feeling soooooo eepy. Little nap.

#d66 list #GM tools #D&D #dungeons and dragons #obligatory d&d tag #cerinsposts

[chainelunaire]

what kind of a ghost they would be pt.2

pt. 1 pt. 3

kazuha

the invisible one. he likes to observe people silently, you in particular. he’s the kind of a ghost when you can’t put your finger that it’s him, you just constantly feel his presence. it’s unsettling, but he means no malice. he likes to be around people, to hear them talk and laugh. his memories of his life are blurry and very chaotic. but he remembers his feelings well, and he knows he liked to spend his time with people. he’s very curious, he likes to pull harmless pranks just to see your reaction, and he’s quite sad when you get scared because of it. he’s afraid of showing himself to you, because it might scare you even more. but he wants to, and he might do that one day. he also helps you in your home, like he repairs the broken things in your house, or clean it when you’re asleep. you have to built some kind of a bond with him, you need to trust him, so that he can show himself. and he’s not afraid of the afterlife at all, he does not think of it much tbh. 

itto

the playful one. you always see him in the most unexpected places. he likes to be near kids, and it’s where you usually find him, playing or/and arguing with them. he kept his loud and competitive nature, and he’s still the sweetest. kids mention him a lot, saying he’s not only playing, but also protecting them. it’s said, that he helped some lost kids to find a way home, he has also helped their parents. it’s not long time when you find out only children can see him. that’s how you find out he’s a ghost actually. you become friends very fast, with how easygoing he is. he’s not scary at all, even when he tries to be, you’ll only laugh. he doesn’t live with you though, and he has the tendency to just disappear sometimes. you never know when is the next time you’ll meet him. he remembers his previous life, but he’s surprisingly tight-lipped on that matter. he’s very fond of some particular families in inazuma, and you suspect it’s because he knew their ancestors, yet you have no proof. you don’t talk about the afterlife with him too, or he’ll become very upset.

cyno

the restless one. oh, you’ll definitely know that you live with a ghost near you, he doesn’t even try to hide. he doesn’t really care actually, he’s just existing here. at first you may think he’s kind of funny grumpy guy, and it’s not so bad to live near him. huge misconception. he’s actually one of the most dangerous kinds. he doesn’t fully comprehend that he’s dead. he’s stuck. his death was very painful and violent, it was as if he failed to protect something - or somebody. so now his duty is the only thing he remembers about, his debts haunt him even after his death. he just keeps doing what he’d done for years when he was alive - observing silently, taking notes and then he takes action. the fact that he’s dead doesn’t stop him from passing his judgement. he’s merciless, his heart doesn’t sting when someone begs for their life. his spirit only becomes more obsessed with each death. so if you make a mistake, even the silliest one, he’ll pass a sentence. he’s the jury, and only he decides, what’s right and what’s wrong. before he decides, that world would be a better place without you, run.

diluc

the sorrowful one. that one typical ghost, almost ironically comical. you even meet him at the cemetery. he died not long ago, so the pain is still very fresh. he also died young. he remembers his previous life very well, he’s also waiting for his afterlife to come, so now while he’s there he feels useless. he’s stuck, and he can’t deal with his unfinished business. he needs help, so he asks you. it’s very painful for him to go to his old house and see how much it had changed. you like him, so you help him, since kind of a nice guy, don’t mind the depressive state he’s constantly in. he just feels very, very lonely. he wants to meet and hug his friends once again, to say what he had no time to say to them when he was alive. it’s a dangerous state he’s in, because if he continues to mourn his life, he might become an obsessed spirit, and then there’s no afterlife for him. talk to him. long conversations at the dinner table, doing things together, listening him ramble about wine can do. he just needs to let go. help him.

#genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #kaedehara kazuha #arataki itto #genshin cyno #genshin diluc #genshin kazuha #genshin itto #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin general #diluc x reader #cyno x reader #kazuha x reader #itto x reader #diluc headcanons #diluc imagines #kazuha headcanons #kazuha x you #cyno headcanons #cyno x y/n #itto headcanons #itto x you

[kirkycurls]

You Jump, I Jump, Jack

When a gorgeous metalhead and his band move into town, your dreary summer pouring coffees is turned on its head—for the better.

Chapter Two

CW for this chapter: Mentions of alcoholism/mean drunk father, bullying, anxiety attack.

Flinging your house keys and some other bits into your handbag, you practically ripped your hair out of its ponytail as you held the wardrobe door open with your foot, eyes erratically scanning your array of neutrals and old tees for something a bit more glam.

You were getting worked up. Accosted by your elderly next door neighbour on your way home from work, you’d ended up with your head under her sink for the best part of an hour in an attempt to “knock some sense into that damn leaky pipe”. She knew you were good at fixing things and had used and abused that knowledge at least three times since the start of the year.

Eventually you’d escaped, explaining with a wave that you had to get an early night because you had jury duty the next day—a bold-faced lie you usually saved for only the most dire circumstances, which this was turning out to be. Margaret could, respectfully, screw herself. There was a cute guy waiting for you downtown and you were not going to be late.

You shot a glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table: 7.48 pm.

Okay, you breathed. You still had twenty minutes or so to get dressed and head out. It was only a fifteen minute walk from your house to work—ten if you power walked. But you didn’t want to get to Metallica HQ too early.

Pizza and beer. It would be nice. A chance to meet Kirk’s friends and see him again in a casual setting, sans coffee-stained apron and awkward customer service persona. And you really wanted to see him again.

You’d parted ways that afternoon with easy smiles on your faces and his hand falling a little too close to your waist as he’d thanked you for “showing me a hoppin’ time at Yvette’s coffee shop”. You’d snorted at that and blushed hard, your thoughts immediately jumping back to the cringeworthy drinks spillage. Something was definitely in the air between the pair of you and it was more than the electricity of the stormy weather.

As the thought of your last interaction with Kirk faded from your mind, your faint smile slowly succumbed to the weight of a familiar dread that had quietly invited itself into your bedroom and settled, heavy and grey, above your head. You’d known it would be paying a visit at some time this evening, but you’d so far held off its approach.

Pizza…and beer. If there were two things you didn’t like mixed, it was men and alcohol. In fact, you barely touched the stuff yourself, only giving in for special occasions.

It was your father’s fault. Night after night you’d lay in bed as a kid, eyes aching to close but knowing that at 2am on the dot he would explode through the front door after hours necking spirits at various bars with his friends.

You never knew what mood he’d be in. If his favourite team had lost a game, he’d return fuming, an active volcano slamming doors and swearing so loud it made you cringe with embarrassment that the neighbours would hear. On his happier nights he would be eerily quiet, but you could feel his fee fi fo fum energy coming up the stairs…alcohol running like a current through his veins, just one irritated moment away from getting nasty. 

That’s how your mother described those nighttime hours fraught with paranoia and anxiety… “Keep your door closed sweetie or your dad might get nasty”. And yet she’d stayed with him all these years, too in love; too far into a deep hole of denial.  

The relief you’d felt when you moved to college was unparalleled. You felt like a wave far out at sea, lapping and crashing undisturbed in a space that was entirely yours. A letter from your mother had arrived one day not long before graduation, letting you know she’d got the promotion she’d been chasing and would be working at a fancy bank closer to the city.

Your heart had leapt. You knew exactly what that meant—you’d been dreaming about it for months. Your now unemployed drunken Da would be upping sticks with her to a new house far away from you. You’d miss your mother of course, but if weeks at a time away from her meant exorcising your childhood home of him, you’d suffer the pain. She’d promised it would be your place anyway and you'd intended to make it perfect.

And perfect you’d made it. You'd spent the last few years ripping out the old kitchen, bathroom, master bedroom—anything permanent that served as a reminder of your father's leering presence. Long weekends spent in Yvette's rooms above the cafe embroidering cushions, painting landscapes and abstract nonsense to line the staircase, even testing out recipes from far-flung corners of the globe so that home cooking made your space smell like yours and yours alone. So much hard work, but it was empowering and proved you could take care of yourself; proved you could hold your own hand as a grown up, just like you'd had to all those years with the beast prowling around.

Yet all that focus on you and your haven had taken its toll on every serious attempt at a relationship since leaving college. Accusations of not wanting to commit, seeing someone else, even being too far up your own ass had followed you to mens' bedrooms (never yours) time and again. The last one had made you laugh. By that point you'd accepted you simply weren't ready for a boyfriend. You just couldn't let yourself trust that the next long-term male presence in your life would be safe. That was what it all boiled down to. You were still that frightened child, trembling under pretty pink covers, soothing whisky-stench nightmares by tending to her doll's house. Forever playing pretend. And none of the boys could see.

Except, maybe...

You sighed, refocusing on the task at hand. Drifting into a fantasy world was the last thing you needed right now.

7.54 pm.

The closet rail screeched as you gave in trying to be original and selected your outfit for the night.

It won’t be that bad, you thought. It’s going to be fine.

A little black dress sliding off its hanger.

So long as you keep it together.

And the sweet kitten heels.

It’s going to be fine…

✵

The temperature was comfortable as you made your way towards town, heels tapping rhythmically on the concrete and a gentle breeze whispering through your loose hair.

It was still light out, although the birds were calming and there were less people around than when you'd walked home after your shift. Nonetheless, you spotted a few stragglers here and there doing their best to clean up as much of the fallout from the last deluge before the next working day. It hadn't rained since lunch time, which at this point was nothing short of a miracle.

You'd caught the weather report before leaving for the night: clear this evening; clear tomorrow.

Wow, you'd thought. Could this actually be the start of summer?

Turning onto the street housing your journey's end, you peered up at Yvette's window. Her curtains were closed. You smiled to yourself. She was always back the night before. Never late. She loved her customers and her cafe too much to stay away for long, and lateness was practically immoral. No, she would be tucked up in bed watching Poirot until around 9, complete with a hot chocolate and a slice of leftover carrot cake Steven had saved for her. After that it was lights out. Many accidental sleepovers with paint up to your elbows and the soporific aroma of her vanilla-spiced perfume had taught you that.

You were in a better mood than before. In fact, you'd almost forgotten what you were worrying about as the thumping of a stereo to your left brought you to your senses.

But don't push me to the maximum

Shut your mouth and take it home

Cause I decide the way things gonna be

Okay, now you were excited.

Taking the steps to the main doors of the old Sunday school two at a time, you were met with the back of a delivery guy's head. Judging by the tower of boxes in his arms and, ugh, heavenly smell, the pizzas had arrived. You clutched your gurgling stomach, realising you hadn't eaten since the peanut butter sandwich you'd swallowed in a girlish daze after Kirk had left.

Hands fussing nervously up your torso to fiddle with the straps of your dress, you took comfort in the spare seconds you had unseen to make sure everything was in place. It wasn’t often you got dressed up, never mind agreed to hang out with a guy you actually liked, and there was no turning back now. 

“Whewwww, that’s what I like to see.”

You looked up to see the delivery guy staring anywhere but your face. His arms were now empty and reaching out as if to pull you into a bear hug.

“You don’t wanna hang out with these losers do you, hon?”

Behind him, the guy who’d accepted the pizzas cleared his throat territorially. 

“These losers are paying your wage tonight, buddy. Why don’t you get back on your bike and do your job.”

He placed the pizzas down on the ground beside him and straightened, arms crossed. 

The delivery guy stiffened, your radar for conflict responding in kind. Your muscles locked in anticipation of an argument.

“Or shall I tell Ricky you’re shorting people their change again?”

The delivery guy ignored him. He shot a smug smile in your direction and swaggered around you, painfully slow, taking his time down the steps and back to his bike. He said nothing.

You watched him sidelong before returning your attention to the disgruntled customer, satisfied there would be no fight. 

“You okay?”, he smiled, pure warmth bottled in his eyes. 

Something told you this was Jason. 

“Yeah”, you replied, tension melting from your limbs. “Um, Kirk said to meet him here ton—.”

“Oh it’s you!”, he interrupted. “Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here so early. Didn’t Kirk tell you he usually turns up late to these things?”

Early?? So much for your plan to be fashionably late. You felt like an eager schoolgirl now. And dressed like a hooker... And why did you wear your hair down? They were all going to think you were—

“Oh no it’s fine, you’re welcome to come in”, he laughed, no doubt noticing the checked out look on your face that usually indicated panic beneath the surface. “I’m Jason”.

Bingo. Kirk was good at describing people’s energy, that’s for sure. Another point in your book. Perceptive. Attentive. You’d be in love with him by the end of the night at this rate.

You shook off your prior anxiety and returned a laugh.

“Hey Jason. I’m sure I’ll survive a while without him. You want some help with these?”

Nodding to the stack of pizzas at Jason’s feet, an image of lunch time lit up your mind momentarily, fizzling out again like a sparkler. You smiled.

Assuming this was due to any receding awkwardness, Jason smiled even bigger, which made you smile even more, until you were both grinning as he thanked you and agreed to split the boxes, although he took more than half. 

✵

Jason offered multiple apologies for various damp spots, cans of paint and trip hazards as you made your way in. The air was getting closer and almost sticky the further you went into the foyer, the music now thumping in your chest. Girlish giggles pierced the heavy bass at regular intervals and the smell of alcohol stung the inside of your nose. You shuddered, an all too familiar response. Then, as if passing the infernal gates and arriving straight into heavy metal heaven, the entrance area opened out into the main room you remembered from childhood. 

Your jaw dropped. Strung from every available fixture were wrinkled clothes and sagging travel bags; six mid-sized tables had been pushed to the left wall and were currently littered with old takeout packaging and empty beer cans; instruments were somewhat more carefully propped up beyond them in the far corner against a small army of equipment trolleys, a shelving unit above stocked with possibly the most extensive record collection you’d ever seen. The carpet had been ripped up and a few windows sat propped open using piles of newspapers. (You silently thanked the guys’ common sense, as the breeze that entered provided a pleasant respite from the fuggy air just outside the doors. You didn’t think you’d have survived the evening without fainting had you been forced to suffer it all night.) 

Kirk was right about removing the old furniture; the hundred or so chairs that used to fill the space like an assembly hall had dwindled to a dozen dotted here and there, mainly replaced by three leather sofas on your immediate left that were pulled in tight around a chipped coffee table you were pretty sure had been stolen from the staff kitchen. The right of the space was fairly empty, drawing attention to the expanse of flaking paint practically hanging off the wall. Tomorrow's job. You guessed this area would eventually become the studio setup. 

Finally, straight ahead at the back of the room were the stage and heavy blue velvet curtains you’d hidden behind with friends as a kid, giggling and making undeserved jokes about the nuns while you waited your call to stride out stony faced and depict various scenes from the Bible. It was smaller than you remembered and untouched by the band. Above it, a pint-sized figurine of the Virgin Mary hung demure and unspoiled. It was the only unmoving, peaceful spot left in this now chaotic place. 

Your reverie was interrupted as the evening’s cargo was lifted from your grip and set down on the coffee table. A grabbing frenzy started up as what seemed like a hundred pairs of hands tore the lids from the boxes and swooped in to claim a slice.   

“Dive in”, Jason said to the group sarcastically, turning to you and rolling his eyes with a look that said what can you do. 

“Five minutes and it’ll be gone, promise. You want a slice, you got to fight for it ‘round here.” 

He smirked and jumped over the back of one of the sofas, landing next to a waifish girl who promptly snuggled into his chest, content with her slice. Your eyes roamed the mess of tangled limbs flung in various positions across the sofas. Another two girls, who looked like twins but realistically had just gone for the exact same look, had a band member each to themselves. Lars (head thrown back in laughter, just like the first time you saw him), held two slices one on top of the other while a red-taloned hand gently stroked and tugged the lengths of his hair. Across the table, James sat the other girl in his lap, laughing through a mouthful of pizza and holding her tight by the waist. 

This girl you locked eyes with, and boy did she look like every Little Miss Popular you’d ever had the misfortune of crossing a school corridor with. Your throat tightened. She had a fiendish glint in her eye. She was about to make a comment—you could feel it. 

Mary, help me…

“How you doin’ pretty girl?", she shouted over the music. "Someone made an effort tonight. You hopin’ to get lucky?”

The noise died down the slightest amount as heads slowly turned to face you. A tiny flicker of anger nudged you in the gut—how could she possibly know whether or not this was you making an effort—but you ignored it and returned a warm smile. 

“Just dressed for a party, that’s all. Nothing special.”

“I’ll bet”, she replied, well-hidden poison nevertheless leaking from every fine line in her makeup; every crease she’d gained from snide smiles and viperous remarks over the years.

"Can it, Marth'", James squeezed the girl's waist, squeezing a horribly over the top giggle out of her at the same time. He met your eyes briefly with a faint look of camaraderie, jerking his head in greeting before turning back to his conversation with Lars. Marth shot you another snotty look and buried her face into the crook of James's neck. You had a feeling she wasn't done with you.

Luckily, the girl who sat with Jason was a friendlier sort. She called you over, grabbing your hand as you passed behind her and pulling you down onto the couch.

"Ignore her", she whispered in your ear. "She's only jealous 'cos she knows you're here with Kirk."

"But I—." She shushed you, eyeing Marth sideways with a look of tense worry, as if expecting her to produce snakes from her hair at any moment.

"She wanted him first. Got rejected. Very politely but rejected nonetheless."

Interesting. You'd never gotten a chance to get your own back on the cruel girls in high school, and despite your generally even-tempered, kind nature, you had to admit this was a confidence boost. Kirk had standards. And taste.

The girl cut in again before you could share your confession.

"I'm Claire by the way. You wanna beer?"

Crap, you thought. Here we go. You usually had a response planned based on the situation: I'm PMSing; I can't handle my drink in the heat—but tonight you came up short.

Claire was smiling at you expectantly. Little did she know there was a knot in your stomach growing tighter by the second. You wiped your sweaty palms on your legs and donned your best, most capable, carefree smile.

"Oh uh, no thanks. I don't really drink."

Motörhead, remember me now

Motörhead, it's only you now

Motörhead, only you, babe

Motörhead, yeah, yeah, yeah...

Silence.

You couldn't believe it. The song that had been bouncing full volume off the walls mere seconds ago had closed out right as you opened your mouth.

The air felt like it had been sucked out of the room.

Of course Marth heard immediately and let out the most condescendingly pitiful laugh.

"Oh sweetheart, how'd you expect to be a groupie if you won't drink a little?"

"Or a lot...", her ghoulish friend chimed in, both of them descending into a fit of laughter.

Lars was reclining with an amused smile. James was rubbing his temples like he'd heard all this before.

"I'm not a groupie and I have no intentions of becoming one tonight or ever, thanks." you shot back, glaring like something feral.

"Sure babe", Marth rolled her eyes. "Dressed like that and hanging out with a band on a work night? All for Kirk no doubt." Laughter again.

"Martha, enough!", James boomed.

You jumped, a lightning bolt of panic overriding your senses. Even Claire flinched. Men and alcohol. It was men and alcohol. Him. Again. Always and again.

Despite your best efforts to stay in control, you could feel yourself spiralling. A door banged somewhere. Someone entered or left. Had the windows been closed? It was so hot. Raised voices...

The ensuing argument was probably nothing more than a tiff, but your hearing was tinny and the edges of your vision were quickly turning black.

Everything muffled. Gasping for breath.

Thirty seconds felt like thirty minutes as you sat caged inside sensory overwhelm punctured with jolts of anxiety. To anyone else you likely appeared a little stunned and upset, oblivious to the chaos within.

More seconds passed. Sounds that might have been voices but could easily have been your own brain hummed and buzzed somewhere beyond your helpless body, which felt like it was shrinking to the head of a pin.

As you tried to steady your breathing, you calmed a fraction, staying earth-side long enough to notice a dark shadow crouched before you. It was barely recognisable through your swimming eyes as it placed a hand on your leg; then, a hand in yours. Warm, strong, grounding. You blinked the wetness away, now doing your very best to breathe normally and come back into the room.

“…over there?”

Definitely a voice. 

“…to sit over there?”, it said again.

Breathe.

Your vision was clearing. You glanced at the hands gently squeezing your forearms and up past a Night of the Living Dead tee tickled at the shoulders by a familiar mass of dark, curly hair. Then, ahh. Those comforting brown eyes. Now your cage was for two, but the bars were melting and a cool mist settled in tiny stars on your face. You turned to see Claire, perfume bottle in hand, spraying what could only be tap water on every bare patch of visible skin she could find and watching you like Bambi.

You swallowed. A sorry laugh cracked your dry throat.

"I'm fine, Claire."

Suddenly, smothered. Man was this girl a tight hugger.

"Are you sure?", she asked, pulling away only to play with the ends of your hair. "God you looked so pale. You wouldn't reply or anything it was like you were d—."

"Claire", Jason stopped her. "C'mon, let's go for a smoke. Kirk's got her." He mouthed a sorry as he prised the bottle from his girlfriend's hand and set it on the table, steering her towards the door by the shoulders.

Kirk.

You turned to him, feeling vulnerable and worn out. His gaze was sincere, roaming, protective. You couldn't hold it. Right now you were eleven and wounded. And he could see it. You knew he could. Something connected you both and it was sending coded messages back and forth in the jumping air between you. A different song was playing.

You opened your mouth to speak and he shook his head. It's okay.

All the energy drained out of you then and he hoisted you up, kicking beer cans out of your path and smacking the head of a joking Lars with a curse and an admonishing glare as he moved you away from the scene. Lars swore back then quickly returned to the group banter. Nobody seemed to have noticed your mini meltdown; they were too tipsy to clock such fine details.

✵

Sat on the stage on some cushions Kirk had propped up for you, you watched him empty the contents of a duffel onto the ground near Lars's drum kit and rummage around. He retrieved a heavy jacket from the pile and jogged over to the others to grab a miraculously still full box of pizza. Both arms full, he returned, disappearing from view momentarily as he took the creaking wooden stairs back up onto the stage, handing you the pizza and muttering under his breath as he emptied a random assortment of stuff from the pockets of his jacket. Once satisfied, he slung it round your shoulders and pulled it tight at the front, practically tucking you in like a baby bird.

It was far from cold enough to warrant such a thick layer, even with the open windows and sitting up here on the draughty stage. But Kirk had mistook your post-anxiety shakes for shivering and leapt into action. Besides, the look on his face as he'd noticed had warmed you more than any jacket could.

"Kirk", you said softly. No response.

You grabbed his hands, forcing him to stop.

"It's okay," you smiled. "I'm comfy."

He examined you for a moment, then released his hands and threw himself down to your right, punching the cushions into a comfortable position and crossing his legs to face you.

"You sure you're okay?" His eyes again roamed yours intently, scanning for any signs of distress.

"Yeah I am now", you replied, tucking your hair behind one ear. "Thanks for this." It was a small lie but you'd survived worse panic sessions than that and wanted to forget about it.

Kirk nodded with a smile, somewhat reassured.

"So, what was going on over there?", he asked tentatively. "You looked pretty wiped out."

"Oh", you managed, clambering for an explanation that wouldn't lead to that topic. You didn't realise he hadn't heard your tee-total confession. The door you heard must have been him arriving.

"It was nothing, um. I dunno I just felt a bit faint. Hungry I guess. Need to get some of this in me." You laughed, flinging open the pizza box.

Kirk eyed you suspiciously, your attempts to cover up your discomfort too stilted to come off natural. The corner of his mouth quirked into a sympathetic smile but he said nothing. He didn't know you well enough to poke about for more info.

You silently thanked his perceptiveness.

He was quiet for a short time, tearing a slice for himself and rotating the pizza to leave the cheesiest side with you. A butterfly stretched its wings in your chest.

"Aw, the heart attack side for me?" You batted your lashes cartoonishly, confidence returning as your meal became the focal point instead of you.

Kirk's hand clutched his chest in mock offence.

"Excuse me Miss Picky, I went to culinary school I know what I'm doing."

Show off. "Oh really?"

"Yep, can make you anything your heart desires, just say the word."

"Hmm, ham and pineapple? Can you make that work?"

"Sure can."

You scrunched your nose.

"Umm potato salad? That's so bad, bleurgh."

"I could make you a potato salad so freakin' mind blowing you'd eat it for a year and thank me." He threw his head back, arms wide open and shaking like a man possessed.

"Oh Kirk, god of potato salad, more, more!"

You didn't care if you scared the roosting birds into tomorrow with the banshee laugh that pulled out of you, he was just so... You couldn't explain it. He was just so him. And the ache you usually carried with you, of an empty space beside you, was almost undetectable as you sat up here with him now on this dusty stage and laughed and joked.

Talk carried on in that fashion for a while, debating about what made a stellar grilled cheese and Michelin-standard spaghetti, you boasting with none too feminine glee how your breakfast muffins were the talk of the town and even your black coffees had men lovestruck at your feet.

Kirk's gaze stilled on your lips at that, rich pools shaded by those lovely curls.

"They sure do."

Your fingers grazed the dusty stage floor absentmindedly, pricks of static adding a pleasant thrill to the memory of this morning. You knew Kirk was thinking of it too. You'd been stealing glances at each other since he'd arranged the cushions for you; drawing freckles and dimples, jawlines and lashes in your minds' eyes to pull out later and colour in with imagined touches when you were both alone.

An hour or more passed much the same as you dove into each other's hobbies and interests, Kirk lighting up as he spoke at length about his guitar and the band's upcoming gigs, offering recommendation after recommendation of horror films, comics, and kickass albums; meanwhile you shared stories of your amateur art, not-so-amateur house renovations, and hilarious mishaps at Yvette's.

Listener gazed intently at speaker, hooked on the most mundane anecdotes like a sugar rush. The pizza was quickly demolished, Kirk kicking the box off the stage with the force of an Olympic curler once you'd plucked out the last crust, sending you both into fits of laughter. The cushions were rearranged, then your bodies, as you moved from crossed legs to laying on your elbows facing each other, closer in the absence of the pizza.

One song faded out and another started, both of you taking a minute to sit and enjoy the silence and nurse your ringing ears. You were lost in a joyful daydream about a disastrous performance of Jonah and the Whale about fifteen years ago, the nuns frozen in abject horror as they watched a group of nine year olds pull water pistols out of their tunics mid-song and announce war on the "watery beast", nevermind that it was a life-saving gift from God.

You smiled, intending to share the tale with Kirk. He was chewing his lip and watching Martha follow James to the window, now as many drinks deep as there were cans of Aqua Net in her crispy hair. He looked troubled. You waited, still buoyed up by your daydream and the night's conversation, and were about to touch his arm when he spoke.

"Hey look, I know Martha probably started all that before."

His focus was still on the others, where an intense make-out session was currently underway between Lars and Martha's friend on the sofa where you'd previously sat. James and Martha were engaged in a tense bickering session, Martha's beer spraying the window as her arms flailed. James looked wild eyed and under the influence. You looked away. That image was too close for comfort.

Jason and Claire stood in a drunken embrace in the middle of the floor, laughing with their heads thrown back as they pointed at the dusty chandelier bolted high above. They were slow dancing to the current track—a crooning metal song that sounded weirdly romantic, even if the opening line was there's fifty-two ways to murder anyone.

A slight smile touched your lips.

"Don't let her get under your skin, okay? Cos' I'm glad you're here. I mean, not as a groupie or anything..." A tinge of pink coloured his cheekbones. You caught a view of his long, dark lashes as his interest was briefly held by a speck of lint on his shirt.

You mirrored this action, suddenly shy yourself.

"Thanks", you mumbled. "I'm glad you invited me. And I...I don't want to be a groupie anyway."

Now he was interested. "No? Why not?"

A breathy laugh escaped your lips as you considered.

Yeah, why not? You'd be good at it after all. Can't keep a guy. Always hopping from one to the next. You may as well just own—

You pushed the intrusive voice into the recesses of your brain and let your eyes wander Kirk's patient face. You knew he wasn't going to judge you. Even so, it was an intimate topic...

"Well, I uh", an awkward laugh. "I don't think I'd be first pick looking like this". You hadn't seen yourself in a mirror since your anxiety attack and assumed there were muddy rivulets of mascara crusting your cheeks. Not to mention your hair felt distinctly frizzier on one side due to Claire's perfume baptism and you probably had tomato sauce around your mouth. The chances you looked like a swamp monster were high.

Kirk appeared not to concur with this negative self-assessment.

"C'mon", he challenged, his expression screaming seriously?

You blinked. Seeing your blank face, he propped himself higher on his elbow with a disbelieving laugh and crinkled brow. You looked away, spotlight burning your face.

"Sorry", he laughed again, gently. "But you're crazy." You scoffed. You were self-conscious and yet desperate to hear his opinion.

Kirk continued, "If that lot cleared out", he said, pointing lazily to indicate the other girls—though you were sure he wasn't including Claire—"the guys'd be all over you. I'd have to fight them off." He hooked the fingers of his free hand into a claw and pulled a face like one of the creatures on his shirt, eliciting another, albeit more restrained, giggle from you.

Calming, you locked eyes with him again. Your cheeks warmed. He was nodding, brows arched and lips pursed, enjoying the effect this revelation was having on you.

"Yep. It's not every day a girl with class turns up at these things you know. Even got here almost on time just for you." He winked.

"Class, huh?" You pumped your eyebrows suggestively, biting your lip and hamming up the Martha act.

He rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively, shy once more.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry", you laughed, tugging on his sleeve.

"I just... I don't think any of the guys I've dated would describe me that way."

A pensive gaze. Gears ticking in his brain.

"Yeah well, they clearly weren't seeing straight. Probably be bled dry on groupies if they were 'round here." A look of discontent hovered in his features for a second. Seconds ticked by as you considered him.

"You're really not into the groupies are you?"

He shrugged as best he could on one arm.

"I was, it's just...I mean some of them are great girls, like—not just sex, it's...". You let him think.

"It just wears out after a while, I dunno. It's not sustainable."

You nodded, sending him a comforting smile.

"Is that what you want then? Something, you know, long term?" A flash of possibility zipped through your brain; a picture of years from now. Who you might be. Who he might be. Who you might be together. You shook it from your mind. Not even twenty-four hours.

He closed up then, suddenly distant. You didn't think you'd said anything out of line.

"It's hard...trying to hold down something normal when you're in a band." He sounded so small. So young. You longed to reach out and comfort him with more than words.

"You gotta balance things. Make time for other stuff. I can't be here twenty-four seven."

Your stomach tilted, a wave of empathy for the sweet creature lay next to you. You didn't know what hidden things he was thinking about but you were grateful he was sharing all this. It was clearly personal.

You decided to push a little further, curiosity winning out.

"Is that why you were kinda late tonight?"

He looked at you, conflicted, as though urging you to keep pressing but simultaneously let him keep his privacy. You certainly knew that look. It eclipsed your features every time a guy asked why he couldn't stay over. Why it was always his place. You never told them. You let them try, then tire, then get frustrated and finally, leave.

"Just that Jason said you usually turn up late to these things. I thought—"

SMASH!

Sh-t.

The pair of you shot up. The ancient clock that had hung over the door to the foyer since the fifties was on the ground in pieces, chunks of yellowed glass standing to attention like stalagmites, others fallen chess pieces scattered in a radius of at least six feet.

Jason and Claire were nowhere to be seen and the girls were flat out on one couch, too much drink and too little pizza.

"You were meant to get a new nail for that, Laaaars", James staggered up from the adjacent sofa to inspect the mess.

"Was busy nailin' chicks, HA", Lars fired back, both of them absolutely wasted.

You erased the sight immediately. You didn't want nightmares after the best night you'd had in ages.

You hoped the death of the clock was your fairy godmother across the street defending the importance of an early night from her current jaunt in dreamland, rather than a bad omen, but luck hadn't been your destined bedfellow so far in life.

You brushed the crumbs from your dress with a sigh and stretched, standing up to collect your heels from where you'd tossed them a while ago and handing Kirk back his jacket. He followed your lead, shucking himself into the leather and rubbing the back of his head awkwardly as he waited for you to be done so he could focus on your face instead of your cleavage.

You straightened, the conversation of a few moments ago quickly receding into unreachable waters and remnants of the night's jovial tone returning to view.

"Guess that's a sign to head home", you shrugged, a nervous laugh overwhelming any other words. You didn't want to leave. You could sit on this stage all night with the boy stood before you until the stars twinkled and faded and a new day blossomed on the horizon.

But you also felt like a teen on her first date, overtly aware of your arms and legs, feelings and desires. How you were standing; what form the goodbyes would take. The things you'd said and everything you hadn't.

What were you now? Still acquaintances; friends; flirting partners? Would you still be welcome tomorrow? How were you gonna navigate the topic of your sobriety and the distress that came with it, should it re-emerge? You pushed it out of your mind. A task for another day.

Kirk kicked his cushions out of the way and offered a hand to walk you down the stairs.

"Yeah I might go soon too. Should probably clean that up so those assholes don't accidentally impale themselves." He rolled his eyes jokingly.

"Sorry that was your first impression of them. They're not all bad. Hope I left a better mark at least."

"You did", you replied, too eager.

He nodded, sucking his lip, a glint in his eye.

Outside on the steps he discretely pushed the offer to walk you home, eyes raking up and down the street for any signs of drunken idiots like the two inside. You declined with gratitude, taking a deep breath of the night air. It was fully dark now and the heat had broken. You felt refreshed, despite the nag of the goosebumps littering your arms and legs. Kirk noticed.

"Oh hey, keep this", he insisted, removing his jacket and draping it once more around your shivering frame.

"Thanks", you smiled, lashes downcast in anticipation of something more.

Would it happen?

Seconds passed on the concrete as two pairs of eyes glossed over the other's hair and cheeks, landing on yearning lips and drifting up again. Kirk took a half-step forward, the magnet in your sternum pulling you an inch closer, followed slowly by—

"Kirk!"

A sharp breath.

You both turned in the direction of the voice.

"Kirk! You gonna help or what cuz I c-can't hardly walk haha."

James was hanging off the doorframe and swaying like a tree in a tornado. You sighed, running a hand through your hair and taking a step backwards to leave. You finally felt tired.

You heard Kirk swear under his breath.

"Yeah James, f-ck. Just don't touch it. I'll be there in a minute."

He turned, the sight of you leaving knocking him into action. You felt an arm shoot around your elbow, balance nearly lost as you pressed your heels firmly into the ground.

You turned, smiling.

"Nine o'clock tomorrow. Don't worry, I know."

You pulled away from Kirk's tender grip and descended the rest of the steps, the smile never leaving your lips. The feel of his protective gaze resting softly on your back as you walked away never left until you were down the street and around the corner, out of sight.

#here she is #chapter two for all the Kirk girls #pacing's maybe a bit off idk #kirk hammett #jason newsted #james hetfield #lars ulrich #you jump i jump jack #kirk hammett fanfiction #kirk hammett fluff #kirk hammett x reader #kirk hammett x oc #hope you love this chapter! plz let me know your thoughts/feelings! :)

[moe-broey]

MEANWHILE. In another realm. I've revisited Alear's FB's

I FEEL LIKE. Alfonse's problem isn't so much that he's emotionally guarded, despite, you know, being extremely emotionally guarded. It's that He Isn't. Like. At the same time.

Consistently, without fail, Alfonse puts himself in situations where he's amicable and helpful. Their C support consists of Alfonse helping Alear see to her own odds and ends, having been brought to Askr with nothing but the clothes on her back. A common situation! He gets her a ring case to put all her rings in. So here, he's helping. And when Alear shows him the rings, and tells him the lore/significance of the rings, he takes an interest -- because of course he would! That sort of thing is right up his alley. And so he's not only amicable enough to be approachable, he's also showing interest in the things she's interested in, and having a spirited conversation about it.

Their B support consists of more of the same, just getting into the details of how Emblems work. HE DOESN'T REALIZE IT YET. But he's bonding with Alear. This goofy ass motherfucker doesn't realize this is literally how friendships are formed. Like I'm convinced he's thinking they're just talking lore and stuff and it's a casual conversation between casual allies and surely nothing emotionally charged will come out of this. He's just being friendly (without NECESSARILY becoming Friends) and there's nothing more to it, there Will be nothing more to it.

A support.

She voices A Problem. TWO things about Alfonse. 1) He was built in a lab to be a fixer (juries still out on his methods/solutions) and 2) He takes things SO personally when he relates to it. PVP enabled he's going to fucking get your ass about it. He is sooooooooo emotionally distant Up Until you fucking provoke him (AND THIS. ISN'T EVEN ENTIRELY TRUE. BC WHAT HE DOESN'T REALIZE IS GENUINELY BONDING OVER SHARED INTERESTS COUNTS TOWARDS BECOMING INVESTED IN THAT PERSON which is HOW he ended up in The Situation in the FIRST PLACE).

Which leads to him "helping" (POORLY.) (Because in all of this he IS still wired to help people)

Which just pisses him off even MORE, believing he has the Correct and Inevitable perspective and desperately wants to get Alear to see it the same way, doubling down.

(Bro I am going to hit image limit again before even making my point..... AUGH)

Alear's next lines, "That's true, but won't keeping my distance mean I appreciate them less while I have them?" / "Is that how you see your relationships with Heroes? With me?" / "No matter how much time we spend together, you'll always keep me at arm's length for when I have to go?"

Here, I think Alear is expressing to him she already sees him as her friend. I don't think Alfonse picks up on it though, trying again to get her to see his side of the issue -- as if, in his mind, they're just debating and not having an emotional conversation.

Alfonse's next lines: "Consider it from my perspective. If I am too attached to you, and you leave, I could lose my will to fight." (ALFONSE. ALFONSE. COME ON MAN.) (LIKE. Idk man if you're saying shit like that I think it's too late. It's so over for you.)

THIS ONE THOUGH. I THINK. PLEASE staywith me but it is the root of it all

Euden's (named Milo here lmfao Milo jumpscare) next line: "Do you not feel the same way about us?"

Alfonse's lines: "My apologies, but no. The forming of friendships is a thing I don't take lightly." / "It's true that I rely on the assistance of Heroes summoned from different worlds when fighting, but that is wholly different."

Alfonse lines (continued): "I have a duty, and can't afford such hurt. So if I grow close to someone, I do so accepting the potential consequences."

AAAAUGHHHH WHAT IS MY THESIS. WHAT THE FUCK AM I TALKING ABOUT. I HAVE MORE CONNECTIONS TO MAKE. AND FOR WHAT‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

SOMEHOW. His Book 1 (p sure they're from Book 1) lines to Kiran that go, "I suppose we don't know much about your world. And how rude of us to not ask until now!" / "What? Your world has buildings that scrape the sky? And what do you mean by 'cars'?" / "Like wagons... that run without horses... and are made out of metal? Fascinating." <- THESE LINES. Combined with his smiling sprite. TO ME are a direct parallel to his C and B Alear conversations, HOW, he's taking an interest in Kiran and without realizing he's growing a fondness for them.

Something SOMETHING about his cognitive dissonance about how he can be friendly without "being friends", how he's afraid of caring too much when it's clear he already cares at least a little ESPECIALLY SHOWN. In how, Alfonse doesn't realize he could have hurt Alear's feelings until she directly states it: "I understand. Still... it makes me sad."

ONLY THEN he gets his panicked(?) sprite, replying, "I apologize for upsetting you." It's here I think he finally realizes, OH. THIS IS. An emotional conversation and not like a debate of ideals and I feel bad for hurting you. BECAUSE!!!!!!!! HE'S COME TO CARE ABOUT ALEAR!!!!!!!!! IN ALL OF THIS!!!!!!!!! Whether he's fully aware of it or not, whether he LIKES it or not, he cares about her feelings and wants to make it right. Into, expressing (again that PVP "Well I took that personally" reaction he has): "I suppose it's just that, when you talk about the Emblems, how you worry, I feel as if I'm hearing my own voice."

Which S support, sets up for a resolution and mutual understanding peace and love all is well with the world 👍

ALSO the parallel to Euden, since this is the very start of what would be analogous to support conversations (side story content unlocked by powering up the character), Euden takes Alfonse's response to him in stride -- since, there's no real emotional stakes. Aside from, Euden wishing they could be friends (since he's just built like that), but ultimately giving Alfonse space and respecting his feelings about it. The Point: While they've been working together, Alfonse hasn't Quite developed that fondness yet I don't think (esp from what I remember from the main plot of the crossover event, which is next to nothing LMFAO). It develops later!!!!!!

If I hadn't hit image limit I would insert the What the FUCK are you two talking about meme here like. What the fuck AM I talking about. Can someone else make this post actually I don't think I'm qualified 😭😭😭😭😭😭

MAIN POINT.

I look at Alfonse and I go I think I hauve covid.

#fire emblem #feh #i'm half tempted to pick through dimitri's fbs again and identify where alfonse is in too deep for him too #absolute trainwreck of a post. great job everyoen (me) let's hit the showers. #i also think i can pick apart his level 40 convo but pleadse. i've already suffered so mcuh. #i have scrambled egg brain EVEN WHEN I HAVE AHDHD MEDS #fe alfonse #alear #euden #DRAGALIA LOST JUMPSCARE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[beenjen]

Another busy week. It’s been well here; had jury duty Monday - I wasn’t picked and thank goodness for that, it was 7 counts of sexual assault against a minor - I DID NOT need that in my brain. Then Tuesday and Wednesday I was part of a professional development training team for introducing Biopsychosocial involvement in chronic pain. It was really amazing.

Dad seems to be doing some better. We had a couple weird moments, where he came down to dinner and told the kids that my mom’s spirit is still at the house and knocking things over, making noise. On the surface, no issues with that belief. That’s your experience. Clearing that up with my 5 & 9 y/o, not so much. It’s hard, those conversations. All in all though, he’s talking, feeling, which, in all honesty, is part of the damn healing process. You have to feel, to deal, to heal. I told him how proud I am of him, because it’s just shit, and the worst thing to happen to him in his life. That shit is heavy and has to feel impossible.

Headed to Thai with friends. Then apparently we are going to a field where we will be looking for Saturn through a telescope.

Saturn 🤘

#family time #waiting for spring #nashville #hard is hard #fuck cancer #dealing with grief