#I was in my school's cross country for a year. I backed out due to the schedule probably wise given how overwhelming shit in school got.

[batteryacidisedibleenough]

Its super funny how my arms have gotten noticably stronger but are still hilariously weak a lot of the time.

For example, I'm pretty much incapable of doing a pull up. I'd give other examples, but that's easily the biggest one, everything else pales in comparison.

[godslino]

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[babyouran]

The Grade School Host is the Naughty Type! - a young boy joins the host club in hopes of learning from the masters to impress a special lady. yet they aren’t ready for all the effort it takes to train such a rowdy young man.

pairing - fem! reader x host club

apart of - ouran add-in

The theme for this special day was Arabian as their clothes were flowing in gorgeous colors with prized possessions, in gold, filtered about the room. When the boy in a green uniform finally opened the door, he was shocked at what he was witnessing, the image seeming like something not from their country but a foreign one. He tripped over himself and stared up at the members in astonishment. 

"Welcome to the Ouran Host Club," The club announced, all seated by each other with ripe, delicious fruits peeked in between and extravagant furniture. 

"Oh it's just a kid," Hikaru noticed.

"Not only that, it's just a boy," Kaoru added, clearly the two disappointed. 

"What's wrong little boy? Did you come to my palace in search of something?" Tamaki stuck out his hand with a golden ring and red gem resting in his palm.

"Uh, are you the king of this place?" The boy wondered, standing up from the ground.

"Come closer, lost one," Tamaki motioned for him to come over. "What was it you just called me?"

"The king."

"Ah, the King! Yes, I'm the king of the Ouran Host Club! Long live the host king."

"Oh no," Y/n whispered, looking at Tamaki who practically had stars in his eyes. He was standing up from his throne proudly, standing tall to pretend as if he were on a balcony surveying his kingdom. 

"I'm an elementary fifth year, Takaoji Shiro," He introduced. "I want the Host Club King to take me on as an apprentice!"

Due to a successful flattering, soon enough the elementary school student was taken on as a co-host and offered the opportunity to watch Tamaki in action. 

"Oh my, Tamaki, you have an apprentice?" A black-haired female wondered, sitting beside him.

"Yes, he's still in elementary school but I like the fire in his eyes.”

"But are you sure it's okay for such a young boy to become a host?"

"Why wouldn't it be? Love has nothing to do with age," Tamaki spoke, gently caressing her chin. "Take us for instance, whenever I look at you my heart starts pounding. Suddenly I feel no different than a lovesick little boy."

"Oh-oh Tamaki," The girl stuttered.

"Isn't it a little strange how Shiro-kun is just watching?" Y/n wondered, turning towards Haruhi and Kyoya who were also witnessing the whole scene go down. Shiro was in between Tamaki and his guest, face a little too close up to where Tamaki was touching her face. 

"There is a theory that people are considered more beautiful the closer they are viewed. Tamaki seems to live by that theory," Kyoya told them. Y/n nodded in understanding and walked up closer to Kyoya. She put her face near his, their noses almost touching, before pulling away and sitting back down beside Haruhi. 

He felt his cheeks warm up, "Well, ahem, let's leave them alone," He muttered, moving further away from where Y/n was now sitting.

"You naughty girl, you've drawn me to the forbidden fruit. Dearest you're the mermaid who's brought light into my lonely sea. My mermaid princess," Tamaki flirted.

"I remind you of a mermaid?" The girl asked.

"You look more like the carp that swims in my pond at home," The younger boy insulted. "I'd never give false compliments like that!"

"Carp?"

"Don't listen to him, he's just a kid, you know how kids are. They can't help but be honest," Tamaki tried to reassure her.

"Honest?"

"But that's just his opinion! I wouldn't say you look like a carp, and even if you did look like a carp you'd be the most beautiful carp of them all!" Tamaki spoke frantically.

"So I am a carp!"

"Uh, no that-that's not what I meant," Tamaki stuttered.

"Tamaki you're an idiot!" She cried, running out of the room embarrassed and ashamed.

"No wait! Mermaid princess!"

"Man, what a crybaby," Shiro commented, crossing his legs and arms in disappointment. 

"So how's it going boss, that's an adorable little apprentice you've got there," Hikaru laughed.

"Hikaru, do you wish you had a little brother like Shiro?" Kaoru questioned.

"Don't be silly, I could search the globe and I'd never find a better brother than you, Kaoru," Hikaru expressed, taking his brother into his arms for a tight hug.

"Uh, Hikaru."

"Look! They're doing it! It's forbidden brotherly love," Two girls cooed.

"They're homos! And they're brothers! That makes this totally insectuous!" The boy yelled.

"I think what you mean to say was incestuous," Tamaki corrected.

"Hey Shiro-chan! Want to have a piece of cake with me?" Honey wondered, jumping onto the younger boy's back. "We've got three kinds, chocolate, strawberry, and lime."

"Hey! Back off, what grade are you in any way?” Shiro shook his back in an attempt to get Honey off of him. “Why are you wearing a High school uniform?" Shiro asked staring at Honey with a disgusted face. In response, Honey's eyes started to bubble with tears.

"Something is wrong? Mitsukuni?" Mori queried.

"Honey-senpai, are you alright?" Y/n questioned, walking over to the boy. "I'd love to have cake with you, we can talk while you eat," Y/n nodded, letting the boy grab her hand.

"That's not fair! A little kid like you isn't supposed to have a cool older friend and a hot girl like her!" Shiro complained, walking backward in annoyance until he was stopped due to bumping into Haruhi.

"Are you alright? I know it's kinda hard to get used to all the weirdos around here, besides Y/n. She's very kind," Haruhi looked up at Y/n who was now showing a book to Mori. "It took me a while to get adjusted to all the craziness, so don't freak out. I'm sure you'll get used to it," She tried to reassure him.

"Do you need help with that tea, Haruhi-chan?" Y/n inquired, walking over and grabbing some of the cups.

"Bend down," The elementary boy gestured for Y/n to come down to his height. "What's with the mask?" He moved his hand to hover over her mouth, about to try and snatch the fabric to see what was underneath.

"Okay that's enough," Tamaki grabbed Shrio from the back of his jacket, pulling him away. "Shiro, why don't you take care of the tea set?"

"Y/n, you're looking very nice today," Hikaru commented, patting her head.

"Just give the set to the boy and let him do his training," Kaoru mentioned.

"Okay, just be careful, it's kind of heavy," Y/n told him, handing him the tray that Haruhi was once holding. Shiro quickly dropped it, the glass silverware and cups shattering all over the floor.

"It's not my fault I dropped it, it's her fault because she gave it to you, causing you to give it to me," Shiro said, pointing to Haruhi.

"Wait what?" Haruhi’s eyes went wide, shaking her head and raising her voice at the young boy's accusations.

"Excuse me?" Y/n asked, her opinion on the boy changing vastly. It was clear he was not a well-behaved child, speaking his mind in cases where he should be holding back. 

"That's another one hundred thousand yen Haruhi," Kyoya added.

"What?" She fumed.

"Have that mask girl do it, don't girls love doing that? I'm not here to carry tea sets, I'm here to learn how to make women happy!" He snarled. 

"Repeat that?" Y/n walked over by him, getting pulled back a bit by the twins.

"You won't get anywhere with that attitude. And I am not going to let you disrespect Y/n. So, put this brat in isolation!" Tamaki declared, pointing his finger at the boy.

"You got it, boss!" The twins popped up, fingers in the air, and soon enough a cage was lowered down, trapping Shrio.

"What's going on here?! Why'd you put me in a cage all of a sudden?!" Shiro thundered.

"I don't know if we can do this," Y/n muttered.

"Where did it come from? This is supposed to be a music room, right?" Haruhi's sweat dropped.

"This is no way to treat your loyal apprentice! Now let me out of this cage!" Shiro thudded on the bars. He tried to reach a hand through to reach something or someone, even though nothing was near his grip. 

"Not until you've learned your lesson," Tamaki told him, sipping some tea. "I made you my apprentice because I thought you were serious about becoming a host, but I guess I was wrong."

"I am serious. Totally serious," He argued, not jumping around in the cage as much as he once was.

"Are we going to let him out soon, if word gets out we keep people in cages, our family businesses will be in trouble," Y/n mentioned, looking around to see if anyone else would do something. With no one making the move she just sighed to herself and went over to the couch to read a novel. 

"I want you to teach me how to make a woman happy!" He exclaimed. "I'm going to run out of time. Please, won't you teach me? You're a host because you like girls, you like bringing a smile to a girl's face. That's why you do it, right? Please won't you teach me how to be like you?" Shiro begged. "You're a genius at it, you're the king!"

"Well, you may be a brat, but I admire your desire to become a host, so I'll teach you!" Tamaki decided. "You know Shiro, you and I are so much alike.”

"Here we go," Y/n looked up from her book to see the gleaming Tamaki, his pridefulness returned.

"Then you'll help me become a host that can make any woman happy?" Shiro grinned.

"Of course, making women happy is the sole purpose of being a host," Tamaki explained. "If this is what you really want Shiro, then you'll have to figure out how to use the material you already have.”

"What does that mean?"

"You see, here at the Ouran Host Club, our policy is to use our individual personality traits to meet the needs of our guests," Kyoya began. "For example, there's Tamaki, who is the princely type, strong silent type, boy lolita type, little devil type, cool type, and natural type," Kyoya showed, lastly pointing to Haruhi. "Now we are complete with Y/n, the special, caring type," He finished, the group now standing next to each other.

"Special, caring?" Y/n repeated

"It would seem that right now we have a perfect blend of characteristics, so it's going to be difficult to find a new type for Shiro," Kyoya confessed.

"If you go by his age, he should be the boy Lolita type."

"But Honey-senpai already has that covered," Kaoru told his brother.

"Is he going to replace me?" Honey worried.

"He's more like a tsundere type," Y/n mentioned, moving over by Haruhi.

"Oh, come on, is that all you got?" A voice wondered, soon motor noises were heard and Renge, once again, appeared from the ground.

"What's up with this place, it's supposed to be a music room," Haruhi voiced to Y/n, Y/n just shaking her head.

"Not all rich people's buildings are like this," Y/n commented. "Though at my house, we have a fish tank that comes out of the ground."

"Sorry to interrupt gentleman, but what's with the lackluster character analysis? I must say I'm quite disappointed, I thought I taught you better," She expressed.

"Alright Miss manager, how would you work Shiro into our collection of characters?" Tamaki queried. “He can't be the boy Lolita because Honey's already got that covered."

"You just don't get it, do you? Now listen up, there are plenty of girls out there who have a thing for younger boys or boys with baby faces," Renge told the group. "These girls would be considered Shota fans. Now, Shota can be a fairly broad category so it's important to know that the genre can be broken down into many different smaller sub-categories," She pointed.

"For example, shota fans with an interest in Lolita boys would favor a boy like Haninozuka-senpai," Renge told the boys, most of them listening carefully, Kyoya taking notes and Y/n peaking over to look at his notes. "But this little boy is different. If I had to pick a character for him... Yes! He'd be the naughty boy type without a doubt,"

"So tsundere?" Y/n voiced, looking at her friend who was currently trying to stifle a laugh.

"The naughty type?" Shiro repeated, someone blowing a whistle.

"Now to play up the naughty type, you should wear shorts," Renge bent down, noticing that he was wearing shorts, and she blew the whistle again. "You've got to have bumps and bruises, give him some scars!" She encouraged the twins who were putting bandages and drawing marks on Shiro.

"I don't think that Shiro needs to"

"Run like a spoiled child! Make it reckless!" Renge demanded. "Now I want you to trip and make it big!" Shiro ran and tripped on a rope, landing harshly. "Are you okay little boy? Now give them your catchphrase!"

"No big deal, it was nothing," He responded proudly.

"That was perfect! Absolutely perfect Shiro!" Renge beamed.

"That was outstanding," Tamaki clapped. "I never knew you were such a great coach, Renge."

"I've had enough of you people," Shiro yelled, gaining the attention of everyone. "This is so stupid, none of this is ever gonna help me make her happy.”

"Her?" Y/n pondered, watching the boy run away.

"Wait, Shiro! We haven't taught you how to apply the techniques you've learned yet," Tamaki called out to him.

"I swear younger boys are good for nothing. I went to all that trouble to coach him and he quits," Renge complained, disappearing back into the ground.

"I can't believe he ditched us just because he didn't like the lesson, what a selfish little brat," Tamaki ranted, clearly annoyed at losing his apprentice.

"I don't think he wanted us to assign him a personality. He had said 'she', he wants to impress a specific girl." Y/n tried to reason with the upset Tamaki. 

"Also, didn't you hear him mention that he was going to run out of time," Haruhi added. "What could that mean?"

Soon enough the club came up with a plan. They knew that the young boy needed some help and they were going to be the ones to do it, after all, he needed help impressing a girl and that was the club's specialty. Their genius plan was to send in Y/n and Honey as students at the elementary school in hopes of finding out more about Shiro and the mystery lady.

"I don't get why I'm a part of this," Y/n whispered, pouting underneath her mask.

"It will be okay N/n-chan. It was so easy to sneak in," Honey reassured her, wearing an elementary school uniform himself. "And wearing this uniform, I look like I'm in elementary school."

"Yeah I agree, I get why they wanted you. But I don't get why they needed me, I don't exactly resemble an elementary schooler with my size. Not to forget that I'm wearing a middle school uniform," Y/n looked down at her dress, and moved a hand to feel her braid. Along with the new outfit Y/n also had to put some dark blush on her cheeks, putting it on the parts that could be seen above her mask. "I don't get the point of these disguises."

In front of the two club members, some actual students just peered at them in confusion.

"Oh there's a reason, a damn good one," Tamaki muttered before Honey grabbed onto Y/n’s wrist and helped lead her down the hall. 

"Isn't she the cutest!" The twins adored.

"I don't think Y/n is happy about this," Haruhi commented.

"Look at her in that miniskirt, Y/n looks like a model," Tamaki admired.

"So, basically you just wanted to see her dressed up like that," Kyoya realized, watching Tamaki peek at the two 'undercover' members walking down the hall. Though Honey and Y/n weren’t easily seen since by then they had already made it into the classroom.

"This is it, Shiro-chan's classroom," Honey told her, opening the door.

"Okay, let's try not to cause any more attention than we already have," Y/n told him.

"When I was in elementary school, this was my classroom too!" Honey ran around.

"Wait, there is no one here," Y/n whispered to herself.

"So the kid's classroom is empty, is it?" Tamaki walked in.

"This surely takes me back," The twins reminisced, wandering around the classroom. The club members all walked around, looking around the desks, at the chalkboard, and checking out the bookshelves, they were reminded of their childhoods. 

"I wonder if my doodles are still on my desk," Kaoru wondered.

"Doubtful, the school changes out the desks every year," Kyoya informed them.

"Every year, at our schools they keep the same ones. If we were lucky they would somewhat clean them," Haruhi mentioned, following after them.

"If you guys are just walking in like nothing, what was the point of us wearing these?" Y/n pondered, gesturing down to her uniform in annoyance.

"Don't worry about it," Hikaru voiced.

"There's no one here to catch us," Kaoru reassured her. But as if he had just jinxed everyone, soon enough they could hear the echoing of footsteps in the hall. In the assumption that it was a teacher, they all ducked down under the desks.

"If the teacher finds us," Hikaru began.

"We'll have a hard time explaining how we snuck in," Kaoru finished.

"This is why I told you guys we should wait outside," Haruhi scolded them, while the twins then commented back, now the three first years bickering. 

"Be quiet, we don't want the teacher finding us," Y/n warned them, putting a finger to her lips. They waited a few silent moments before they could recognize that the footsteps had dispersed. Just to be sure, Y/n got up first and checked around before signaling everyone else to come out, "He's gone, but how are we going to find Shiro-kun?" She queried.

"Well, here's something interesting," Kyoya stated, looking at photos. The rest of the members surrounded Kyoya, all filing up beside him to look at what he had found.

"What did you find?" Haruhi questioned and in response, Kyoya pointed to a certain photo. "Hey! That's Shiro."

"So he's into classical music."

"He's also with a girl. Maybe that's the girl he was talking about," Y/n realized, turning around and looking at the group.

"There's Shiro-chan!" Honey pointed out to a classroom near the one they were in. He was seen talking with a girl before she had moved over to a piano bench to start playing. At the notice of another elementary girl from the same class exiting the classroom, Tamaki walked over to her.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle," Tamaki started, catching her attention. "I've never seen a rose more lovely than you, my dear. Here, this is for you," He offered up the flower, bowing a little and then shortening his stance so they were more eye level. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about that young lady playing the piano. Do you know her?"

"That's Kameeshido, Hina," The little girl told him.

"Her name is Hina?" Tamaki repeated.

"That's right, but you better not fall in love with her."

"Why?"

"Didn't you know? Hina has to move away soon. Her dad just got a new job in Germany, so they have to move there at the end of the week," She told him, waltzing away while smelling the pretty flower. 

"What do you think you're doing?!" Shiro yelled. "I want you idiots to leave immediately!" He rushed over to where the group was, face as red as a beet. But Tamaki made no reaction, just picked up the smaller boy and put him over his shoulder. "Put me down! What are you doing? Ah!" Tamaki made no hesitation in making the way out of the building with the rest of the club following behind, still carrying the flailing boy.

"It's time to go, gentleman, Y/n,” He paused for a few seconds, turning his head around the best he could to peer at Shiro, “Quit thrashing around," Tamaki deadpanned. 

Once they all finally made their way back to Ouran Highschool Tamaki had just plopped the boy onto the sofa.

"What is your problem, you big idiot!" Shiro snapped.

"I'm sorry, but you're the idiot. You said you wanted me to teach you how to make women happy. But that's not it, is it? You're not concerned with the happiness of just any woman. You've got your sights set on one woman in particular. You only care about one, and that's Kamishiro Hina," Tamaki objected. "When you care for someone, you must find the courage to express what is in your heart. You have to tell her how you feel about her."

"It doesn't matter anymore, I've run out of time. I just wanted to hear her play before she left for good, that's all," Shiro expressed, staring at his hands in his lap, refusing to make eye contact with Tamaki. 

"That piece she played, it's Mozart Sonata in D major for two pianos, isn't it?" Tamaki wondered, walking over to a curtain in the corner and pulling it back to show a beautiful, shining piano.

Haruhi turned towards Y/n, "Wait a minute, since when is there a grand piano in here?"

"Well, this is a music room after all," Kaoru told her, shrugging his shoulders.

"So, why wouldn't it have a grand piano?" Hikaru asked her.

"It is a music room," Kyoya asserted.

"It is a music room," Mori repeated.

"It's always been there, we just had it covered up," Honey explained happily bouncing over to where the piano stayed.

"It's such a nice piano too," Y/n admired taking a few steps to the musical instrument herself. She placed a hand on the top, admiring the keys, and before reaching over to play one Tamaki had taken a spot on the bench. He peered up at the girl, a soft smile on his features, and began to play himself. Shiro watched Tamaki in his prime who was playing a mystical piece and taking multiple peaks up to look over at Y/n’s expression.

Whenever there was an ounce of free time Shiro would be right on the bench learning to mimic the rapid finger movements that Tamaki possessed, all working towards completing the goal of expressing himself to Hina.

It didn’t take long, with all the effort and time Tamaki had taken to teach the young boy soon enough he was prepared to play the piece himself. On a special day, the host club invited Hina to come to Music Room 3, dressing up for the young girl in anticipation of the cute moment that awaited.  

"Welcome princess, we've been waiting," They all announced.

"I present to you, Takaoji Shiro’s piano recital," Tamaki introduced. He took Hina’s much smaller arm in his own, joining together at the arm, and pushed out a seat for her to sit near the piano and Shiro.

"Let's play together Hina," Shiro stated, and very happily the girl obliged. She pulled up her chair more to the other piano starting to play while he played his. It was a truly beautiful musical melody, the two kids glancing back at one another while passionately playing the piece. It was a comforting and rewarding scene for the club to witness. Just the two gleeful children indulging in some musical enjoyment.

"We did a good thing," Tamaki observed the two, with a smile on his face. Y/n looked at him, her eyes scrunched up a bit to show she was smiling underneath the mask. It was on this day she got to peak into Tamaki’s interior a bit more, he was a man who had such a large passion for guiding others. 

"You did Tamaki-senpai, you aren't too bad," She laughed as a small blush appeared on his cheeks with a certain admiration sparkling in his eyes. 

A week later Shiro came in to see the host club once again.

"So, you've been exchanging emails with Hina now that she's in Germany?" Haruhi inquired.

"That's great Shiro-kun," Y/n complemented.

"Yeah, I like her but she can get pretty jealous for an elementary school girl. She'd be upset if she knew I was with you ladies, so let's keep this our little secret," He confessed to the girls surrounding him on the couch and nearby chairs. 

"Naughty boys are the best!"

"I could kiss you."

"Ah, you little brat, those are my guests!" Tamaki fumed.

"Well it looks like they have found someone they like better," Shiro voiced. "It was so easy to steal your customers, I think there's a new host king in town."

"I thought he'd make it through without exploding this time," Kaoru and his brother expressed holding down the blonde.

"We should have known he was gonna blow up sooner or later," Hikaru realized.

"I'm going to assume Tamaki-senpai was also a spoiled brat as a child," Y/n declared, making her way over to Kyoya.

"I was not a spoiled brat! I was nothing like him when I was a kid! I was a sweet, innocent, precocious, adorable child," He whined.

"Of course senpai," Y/n voiced sarcastically. "And I was living in a commoner's home growing up," To this comment the twins broke out in loud laughter. 

"Wait what does that mean? Do you not believe me? Wait Y/n!"

next chapter - Jungle Pool SOS!

[kierewrites]

What Would Karma Do... when you support him at his baseball game?

navi - masterlist

Karma Akabane x Reader

Mood Song: dare

Summary: Remember the beloved Assassination Classroom anime? This is pretty much that, except you enter the picture of Karma's chaotic school year. Let's see just how compatible the two of you are.

Warnings: mild cursing, just some chaotic fluff

Ever since the kidnapping incident, things have been ironically great.

It was ironic because to any regular person, said things should’ve been horrible. You had a new classmate that was a robot, Korosensei's apparent brother came and tried to kill him, and Professor Jelavic's old teacher came to try and show you all a lesson.

But somehow amongst the chaos you found harmony. Honestly you were surprised with the way you were handling things. Between getting kidnapped and the rest of the unusual events, it’s safe to say you didn’t see this much action back at your prestigious school from your old country.

Regardless, you couldn't help but feel this newfound comfort was thanks to your lovable (and slightly chaotic) red headed boyfriend, Karma Akabane.

Ever since you had almost been kidnapped your relationship with him grew stronger. He began to open up new sides of himself with you, just as you did with him. For once everything seemed to be going great. That is, until the A Class came back into the picture.

"Well, that was a beating." Nakamura sighed as the females of your class trudged to the baseball fields.

Thanks to your training, you didn't feel too sore from the rough loss you just endured, but that didn't help your deflated ego.

Back at home you were great at many sports, winning was just something you were accustomed to at this point. But unfortunately you had to play the one sport you despised: basketball.

Each of the classes had a tournament of different sports, the boys were currently playing baseball while the girls just finished their basketball tournament. You would've killed to play baseball instead, but beggars can't be choosers. The A Class had olympian-like players anyways, so at least the outcome wasn’t that big of a shock.

"For real, I feel like all my fingers are broken." You whined with a pout of your lip as you wiggled your sore fingers around to help the aching feeling.

"No worries, there's always next time, yeah?" Kataoka said with a soft smile, her words making the group of defeated players feel just a bit better.

Kayano whimpered as she looked down solemnly, "It was my fault. My suckage dragged the whole team down." 

"Oh come on don't be like that." You sighed as you wrapped an arm around her.

"Yeah Y/n is right, we all sucked"

Kayano let out an annoyed growl as she crossed her arms, claiming her lack of skill was due to the rather… feminine build of the Class A players. At this you couldn’t help but snort, watching as your classmates argued over whether that truly mattered.

You knew your own chest was a fair size so you decided not to butt in for the sake of the argument. Luckily for all of you, the large fence of the baseball field came into view about halfway through the conversation, a smile curling onto your lips.

The feeling of an elbow jabbing your side caused you to choke a bit as you looked over to see Nakamura smirking at you.

"Excited to see your boyfriend~" Nakamura playfully sang, the girls all squealing at the sight of your cheeks glowing a bright pink tint.

Laughing bashfully you fiddled with your fingers as you grinned over to her, "Maybe~."

"I still find it ironic you and Karma became a pair, he gives me the heebeejeebees." Kurahashi said with a shiver, a few of the girls nodding in agreement at that.

All you could do was really shrug. You knew where they were coming from, but you just saw things differently with the chaotic brute.

"Anyways, let's hope the boys are doing better than we did." Hayami said, all your gazes now focusing on the field where you watched your fellow classmates in uniform.

-

Based on the sight of things, the game didn't seem to be going well. Or even fair for that matter.

Class A's team was mere steps away from your class' batter. It was obvious he wouldn't be able to swing without the ball being caught immediately.

The sight made your brows knit together in frustration, your fingers clinging to the thin metal bars of the fence as your classmates gathered close by. Karasuma was already there watching intently, his expression understandably grim.

"Looks like the boys were doing better than we did," Nakamura said with a sigh as she pointed out the scoreboard with your class in the lead, "But it looks like they're suffering the consequences now with Mr. Stick-Up-His-Butt."

Your eyes moved from the scoreboard to the very principal himself who stood from the dugout, a devious intent in his eyes.

The sight alone made you shiver. Just like his son, something just seemed very off about that man.

Your thoughts came to a halt when the sound of a familiar tongue clicking filled your ears. Tilting your head to the side, your eyes widened to see a familiar redhead leaning against the gate entrance to the field.

"Tsk tsk tsk, I'm disappointed your eyes weren't on me first angel."

Smiling wide, you jogged over to your boyfriend and jumped into his awaiting arms.

"Sorry Karma I got distracted, I missed you today." You mumbled with a smile as you stood on your toes just to peck at his lips.

Karma simply chuckled as he returned the peck before glancing back to the field with a raised eyebrow, "I missed you too Y/n, but mind me asking who distracted you first?"

Karma's jealousy never failed to peek out from his nonchalant facade, his words making you roll your eyes at him playfully before you glanced back at the field to search for your prior distraction.

"Principal Asano just caught my eye... I don't know what it is but something about him makes me feel uneasy everytime I see him.”

The slight shiver of your body didn't go unnoticed by Karma, his arm squeezing your waist gently leading you to look up to his confident golden hues.

"What the old man? Don't let him get to you, it's just a facade." Karma said with a grin as he shifted your hips so that you were facing him once again, "Just you wait, once we beat these Class A jerk-offs you'll get to see the principal lose his cool, it'll be a dream come true."

Giggling at Karma’s all too excited plan, you snaked your arms up into his red locks giving them a ruffle while playfully raising a brow.

"Be nice my prince of chaos, we don't wanna hurt their egos too much."

Karma let out a genuine laugh at that, smooshing his lips up against your cheek before backing towards the gate entrance, "Whatever you say, princess."

His return of the mocking nickname made you roll your eyes, but not before blowing him a kiss as he jogged back to his classmates. This game was sure to be interesting.

-

"We're at the top of the second inning and the invincible defense is still the order of the day!" The sports newscaster exclaimed over the radio.

"Batter number eight, left-fielder Akabane."

Your eyes lit up as you saw your boyfriend walk up to the base, you were about to shout his name but paused in your decisions when you noticed the redhead looking deep in thought.

Blinking at this, you glanced to the field and noticed the rest of the team just a few footsteps away from Karma as some sort of defense. Though you were no expert in baseball, you knew there's no way that was allowed.

"Move it kid. Get your tail in the batters box." The referee shouted, he sounded a bit agitated.

Karma simply glanced towards your principal, his eyes narrowed in focus causing you to raise a brow.

"Never pegged you as the type to play dirty, sir." Karma spoke, venom on his tongue as the principal simply smiled at the boy.

Now it was all making sense, the principal was Class A's new fill in coach of sorts. What happened to their old one?

"If the rules haven't changed, this little gambit ain't legal. They're guarding the infield, umpire should've called it by now." Karma hissed, his head glancing back at the A Class spectators with a grin, "Oh come on, anyone smell a rat or is it just me?"

At this your classmates seemed to snort. Though Karma was being his usual snarky self, everyone knew he was right. This was a risky call for the principal; was he really that scared of your class winning? This rivalry the classes had amongst each other must have been much more personal than you thought.

"Oh, never mind!" Karma exclaimed with a sly smirk as he pointed towards the A Class spectators, "You guys are morons, baseball is like a foreign language to ya!"

At that final comment there was a mix of laughter and yelling. You couldn't help but giggle as he stood amongst the angry students with his arms out, as if he was welcoming the angry cries. 

His golden eyes landed on you for a quick second, he flashed a smile and winked before turning back to bat for his team. This trouble maker was going to start a riot and his only response was sticking his tongue out.

Sure enough the rest of the game went as expected. The A Class was playing dirty, from getting too close to the players to even bunting the ball making it nearly impossible for the E Class to have any sort of defense.

Your poor classmates looked exhausted and drained, you felt horrible for them. This game was getting dragged out in the blazing heat all because A Class couldn't take a loss.

Just as it was Class E's turn to play defense, Karma ran to the group with what looked like an idea in mind. You knew he had been talking to Korosensei, maybe it was a new plan for them to win?

Sure enough as your classmates broke away from their huddle the plan was revealed, but you weren't very fond of it.

Karma and Isogai moved not even three feet away from the batter that was up. Karma's golden eyes glared towards the principal as you heard him speak up.

"Choking up the infield isn't helping the batter's concentration, but what are you gonna do? Now if the umpire had called you on earlier there'd be a precedent for telling us to back off." Karma explained as a matter of factly, his eyes narrowing as he grinned to the principal, "You're cool with this, right chief?"

Suddenly your heart began to race a bit faster. There's no way the principal would okay this right? It was just a silly baseball game, it wouldn't even hurt your school's reputation.

Unfortunately the principal didn't seem to care as he simply smiled and nodded his head.

"Proceed as you will, a true athlete does not falter before such trickery."

Your eyes widened as Karma's grin turned into a wicked smirk at his words.

"Wow, duly noted." Karma cooed before him and Isogai walked even closer to the batter until they were a mere footstep away, "We'll hold you to that sir."

Moving closer to the fence you attempted to call out Karma's name until you felt a hand on your shoulder. Glancing up you noticed it was Karasuma's hand but he kept his eyes glued to the field.

"You have no reason to worry Y/n, the boys know what they're doing and they're following the octopus' order."

Biting your lip you let out a shaky sigh and nodded before glancing back to the field.

Even the batter seemed to be a bit shaken up, but the principal simply said to ignore them. His words nearly made your head explode, your foot nervously tapping against the messy clay of the field.

As Sugino made his first pitch the pitcher sure enough followed the principal's orders and swung, the bat just inches away from Karma and Isogai's heads as they moved back barely an inch. The sight made you gasp as you began to anxiously bite at one of your nails, this was insane!

Karma only seemed amused as he moved closer to the batter with a psychotic grin, "Give us a break, holding back ain't gonna cut it pal. On the next throw, swing like you're trying to kill us."

In the next moment you expected to see Karma and Isogai on the ground with cracked skulls, but instead you heard the batter cry in fear as he hit the ball awkwardly causing it to bounce on the ground.

Karma was quick to jump and catch it, throwing it to Nagisa so he could place it on the home base. Isogai then quickly instructed Nagisa to throw it to third base which he did, Kimura catching it just in time to get the last player of Class A out.

"T..The game is over!" The sports announcer said shakily, "I can't even... this is insane! The winner is... I never thought I would say this but the winner is E Class."

Though there were obvious groans and gasps of shocks, the cheers from your class were much louder as you all clapped and shouted their names. Your classmates soon left the field to meet up with you guys, your classmates all high fiving and cheering for one another.

Skipping to your boyfriend you gave him a tight hug, his arms raising in surprise before he chuckled and hugged you back.

"That was amazing Karma!" You exclaimed into his chest as he ran his fingers through your locks before taking a step back and glaring at him as you grabbed onto his collar and pulled him down to your level, "But if you ever do that again I'll kill you!"

Karma's eyes widened in surprise before he laughed and shooed your hand off his shirt, "Yeah yeah. You know I wouldn't have let those A Class jerks touch me angel."

His smug words made your lips tug into an annoyed frown as you crossed your arms at him, the sight making Karma roll his eyes before snaking his arms around your waist and tugging your turned back against his chest. Your attempt at remaining annoyed with him slowly cracked as he kept placing messy kisses on the sides of your face.

"Don't make that pouty face, you'll get ugly wrinkles."

Your pouted lips immediately fell in feigned offense as you narrowed your eyes up at him, but before you could rebuttal, you heard some of the A Class students grumbling to themselves.

"Oh damn that was totally pointless, how did they lose to those E Class jerkwads?" One of the boys snarled. Their words made your brows furrow as you gripped onto Karma’s arms that were wrapped around you.

Karma seemed just as annoyed as his grip on you tightened slightly.

"All that superior fire power wasted."

Finally having enough of their passive aggressive comments, you stood up a bit straighter as you shouted over to them with a grin, “I think you mean all that superior fire power lost.”

The sight of you sticking your tongue out at them soon after your comment made their faces scrunch in anger, but as soon as they caught sight of the scary looking man behind you, they quickly averted their gazes and mumbled amongst each other.

Watching them walk away made you huff, your body turning around to face Karma as you puffed your cheeks out in annoyance, “Those jerks just won’t leave us alone! Someone ought to teach them a lesson.”

The sight of your frustrated expression nearly made Karma groan as he smirked down at you. Though a rare sight, you always looked so adorable all fired up. He couldn’t help but tease you.

“Woah don’t get too fired up there angel, you may do something crazy like try to set their alarm clocks an hour back so they’re late to school.”

Karma’s words made your lip pout as you glared up to him with folded arms.

“Have fun walking up the hill by yourself.” You huffed, turning on your heel to walk off with your classmates, but you were stopped in your tracks as strong arms lifted you into the air, your growls slowly molding into giggles as Karma ran with you to catch up with your class that already began their ascent to the classroom.

Nothing out of the ordinary for your classmates, they simply observed your interaction with smiles before Karma placed you down, the large group of you walking up together with a sense of provide filled in all of you.

“So, how did the basketball tournament go?” Nagisa asked, turning back to his classmates only to be shocked at the dull expressions on the girl’s faces.

“Oh yeah! Did you kick-” Karma’s words were cut off when a collective sigh of groans filled the air, your lips quirking into a sheepish smile as you glanced up to your boyfriend who wore a confused expression.

"Uhhh, let's not ruin the moment."

next chapter

[apenitentialprayer]

full text below, due to paywall. Bolded emphases added.

When Pope Francis gave a firm “no” to women deacons in an interview with Norah O’Donnell of “60 Minutes” in May, but noted quickly that “women have always had…the function of deaconesses,” my mind traveled back to November of last year, when I made a visit to the Dominican Republic and saw the work of one of these women firsthand. I also thought of my colleague Colleen Dulle, who recently visited Argentina with the Pontifical Mission Societies and encountered catechists, many of them women, who bring the Gospel to the shanty towns in Buenos Aires and the mountain towns beyond

I offer these reflections as a way to understand the context of the pope’s remarks, and to think about the ministry he is calling all of us to consider.

El Cercado is a mountain town in the Dominican Republic not far from the Haitian border. I traveled there with my godfather, the Rev. John I. Cervini, a priest of the Diocese of Rockville Centre on Long Island, who spent 17 years there as pastor to the community. Rockville Centre is one of several U.S. dioceses with mission parishes in “the D.R.”

The Church of San Pedro Apóstol is located across from the town square in El Cercado, but we stayed a short drive away at a retreat center built by “Padre Juan” and his pastoral team, with support from benefactors in Long Island. It’s a beautiful setting, with views of the mountains and a prayer garden with the Stations of the Cross. In the mornings we drank coffee in the cantina; at night we drank Presidentes on the roof deck.

One of the images that remains with me from my stay is the gazebo at the entrance to the retreat house and the paintings inside, hanging in a circle from the gazebo’s roof. Each depicted a tongue of fire and represented one of 14 districts in the surrounding area that oversaw 85 “basic ecclesial communities.” Community leaders would gather at the gazebo for days of pastoral planning and spiritual reflection and then return home to carry out their mission.

The history of these base ecclesial communities goes back to the meeting of Latin American bishops in Medellín, Colombia, in 1968. They were also supported by the theologian Gustavo Gutiérrez, who brought together pastoral workers from around Latin America to train them in evangelization and community organizing.

One of those leaders is Joana Peterson, a lay minister from the United States who has spent over 40 years in the Dominican Republic. She is a critical part of the pastoral team at San Pedro Apóstol, visiting seniors, working with the local Fe y Alegría schools and training local residents in sustainable farming techniques. She is an ever-present, respected presence in the community, and the bishop is known to seek her counsel.

Strong lay leadership is also a feature of church life in Argentina. One of the takeaways from Colleen’s trip, which she shared on a recent episode of America’s “Inside the Vatican” podcast, is the key role played by catechists in spreading the faith where priests are scarce. This is no doubt why Pope Francis decided to elevate catechists to an official ministry of the church in 2021. He knows how essential they are to the church in his home country.

We are spoiled in the United States. We have grown used to having priests available to say Mass on weekdays and multiple Masses on Sundays. That is changing, of course, and we are beginning to understand how the church has survived in other countries without a steady supply of priestly vocations. Especially in Latin America, laypeople have played a critical role, leading communities and carrying out the corporal and spiritual works of mercy.

Women have always been part of that picture. I think that is what Pope Francis means when he says that “we have always had” deaconesses. In other words, “we have always had” non-ordained women committed to lives of service, women like Joana and like the catechists Colleen met in Argentina.

By elevating the role of the catechist in church life, Pope Francis tried to recognize the essential contribution of lay ministers. He was also reminding us that ministry in the church is not the responsibility of the ordained alone. We are all called to serve, and sometimes, I think, Pope Francis is suggesting that discussions about ordination can distract from that.

Of course, ordination is a question that will continue to be discussed, even if Pope Francis has made his thoughts on women deacons known. But if the only debate sparked by our vocations crisis is about ordination, of women or married men, I think that’s a missed opportunity. We all have to find ways to serve the church. The sooner we discern how to do that, the healthier our church will be.

Speaking of leadership, our editor, Sam Sawyer, S.J., is currently away on tertianship, the final stage of Jesuit formation. He will return to this space in the October issue.

[elvendria]

Clean

(re-releading this because it got hidden the first time)

AU Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part Four

Summary:

You return to Hawkins after a few years in the middle of the night during the summer with your 4-year-old sister in tow, thinking the two of you could fly under the radar and settle in at Forest Hills Trailer Park. You thought you could get by without bumping into your old enemy, Eddie Munson, the town freak.

But you weren't always enemies, in fact, there was a time when you two were closer than anything.

Eddie dreams of making it big, you just dream of making it out of here alive.

Look, take willows age with a pinch of salt, I have numerical dyslexia but it'll make sense I swear

\\enemies - lovers//

There's some trigger warnings for stuff to do with willows birth, that's all I can say without giving away everything

((Warning I'm not from the US, so bare with me when it comes to states and such))

18+ MINORS DNI or I will be busting kneecaps, E.D, physical abuse, child abuse, runaways, the reader Joyce's ex-step-niece, Will and Johnathan's cousin, Joyce is Queen, Wayne is King, slow burn, gambling addictions, the reader is 20 and Eddie is 21, Chrissy is the villain but we stan Grace. Reader has a small scar on her lower torso. underage drinking, allusions to smut, no details of smut for obvious reasons, eventual smut in upcoming chapters, brief mention of Y/N

WC : ~5511~

part one part two part three part four

It was coming up to the middle of August, which meant one important thing was due to happen. The pinnacle of the year, the most sensational holiday of all time, the biggest event to ever rock the town of Hawkins.

"It's my birthday it's my birthday it's my birthday!" The little rocket herself was zooming around the kitchenette, hair a whiz as you walked out, rubbing sleep from your eyes. You reached your hands out, holding her shoulders to keep her in place. 

You were seriously gonna need to encourage her to join track or cross country or something.

"Tomorrow it is, but today we need to get you some birthday clothes, so how about we go to that shop in town? The one where all the fairy tale people give their clothes?" It was a thrift store; you were almost certain Willow knew that, but you weren't about to crush the delusions of a soon to be 5 year old. Especially one that's starting kindergarten in a matter of weeks.

Oh god, she's starting kindergarten. In weeks.

You pushed the thought to the back of your mind, the last thing you needed was to be an emotional wreck in front of her. Joyce had helped you with documentation for enrolling her, but it had never really set in. And it wouldn't. Not today.

Her little eyes lit up as you said that, and her bouncing started up again, causing you to grin and roll your eyes. You loved this kid, and her ability to be excited about anything.

"Come on then munchkin, let's hit up the fairy tale store.''

When you reached the store, you hopped from the car and almost bounced up the sidewalk, a bundle of joy and giggles and sunshine. Willow was adamant about getting something pretty and sparkly for starting school, and once again your heart tugged in your ribs.

4 years ago, you were holding her in your arms, cradling her as she cooed up at you, flexing her fingers and scrunching her nose a little. She was perfect to you, you knew that the second you held her in the hospital, moments after her birth. 

And now, she was running off to get sparkly pink shoes to go with a tutu she wanted to wear on her first day. Something to match the fairy wings you already told her she couldn't wear. One of the many meltdowns you've managed to navigate in the past few weeks in the run-up.

Entering the store, you were hit with a new but familiar scent of clothes and dust, the room light and airy and full of clothing racks. Row by row of different colours hanging side by side. You wondered about them, oftentimes finding your imagination ran away from you.                         

You would hold up blouses, covered in dainty flowers, and imagine a woman wearing this to a job interview. You pictured her leading a room full of men, becoming so powerful that she no longer needed the shirt because she had a full wardrobe now. 

A pair of shoes, leather old and cracked. You pictured someone spending every day of their lives keeping them in pristine condition until they were too old to keep them clean.

Or a white linen dress, that reached your knees. The kind that flowed out and moved delicately. You could see yourself, walking the aisle of a small chapel to see a tall dark-haired man at the end of it, ring-clad and- 

No, no you couldn't go there, you couldn't imagine what your life might've been if Eddie hadn't fucked everything up.

You decided you'd get the dress anyway because it hugged your curves just right. Willow was having a small party, organised courteously by Wayne. He had become like an uncle to her, the way he had for you. You'd wear the dress there, just something simple and plain.

Browsing the racks, you found Willow holding a raglan t-shirt, with black sleeves and a white front. It had a design that wasn't her usual style, but she seemed... drawn to it like she'd seen it before.

"You like that shirt honey?'' The design was okay, and realistically she could wear it to school without scaring the other kids, it's not unlike something from a storybook.

"Well, if you like it, let's get it then!" You scooped her up in your arms, balancing her on your hip as you walked through the store, pointing out other items as you played your little game with her, before heading to the counter to pay. 

It wasn't expensive, one of the many joys of a thrift store, but when you saw the guy behind the till ring up the white dress you felt your chest lurch, like you wanted to pull it back. A voice in your head that forever lingered there whispered to you.

You're not good enough

It'll never look right on you 

You're too big to wear something like that

Your skin felt hot, you hadn't had those thoughts since a few months after Willow was born, and they hadn't led to the greatest of outcomes. But you were better now, you had to be, especially for her.

Paying, you pushed it all down, heading back to the car so you could get home and out of the blistering heat that seared through your shoes. The rubber soles felt like they were beginning to melt off, and you wanted to get back to the trailer so you could take a cool shower and a nap.

Okay, maybe the cold shower wasn't directly related to the heat.

It seemed that no matter where you went in Hawkins,  the air conditioning was always broken. Whether it was your car, your job, or your home, the heat followed you like a curse. Although having lived in Nevada for a few years, it was safe to say you were accustomed to it. 

What you weren't accustomed to was the lack of air. At least in the desert, there was a bit of a breeze, albeit it was usually coated in sand and grit. But here in Indiana, it was like the heat hung heavy in the air. It lingered in every breath, every movement. You could feel it like droplets clinging to your skin as you walked.

The whole aspect of hanging up laundry in the scorching sun was maybe not the best idea. The lifting and bending and stretching to hang up bedsheets and clothes were making you sweat like crazy, your shirt and jeans stuck to your skin. But you didn't care, all you wanted was for everything to be perfect for Willow's birthday.

You had just finished hanging up your bedsheets, stepping back to get something else from the basket on your hip when you looked down, two black combat boots sticking out from underneath them.

"Been wanting to see you tangled in your sheets for a while, didn't think I'd have to wait till laundry day though."

You hated that you could tell his voice anywhere, that you could tell it was him from his breathing, from the way he made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You hated that you never wanted that feeling to end.

"What do you want?" You were talking gruffly, arguing with a fitted sheet before just throwing it over the line, catching a glimpse of him as it flew up.

"I want to talk." He pushed past the sheets until he was standing in front of you, his dark brown eyes like small storms. 

You moved away from him, balancing the basket on your hip as you began putting up Willow's clothes, stained from an argument with a juice box that nobody won. "I don't know what you mean, there's nothing to talk about." Okay so you were being stubborn, but you couldn't help it.

"Oh really? So you dropping to your knees in my job to suck me off meant noth-" Your hand flew up, covering his mouth to prevent him from saying another word. If his eyes didn't give away his enjoyment at your reaction, the smile pressing into your palm sure did.

"That never happened, you hear me? It was a mistake." When you were sure he wouldn't talk again, you removed your hand from his mouth, only for him to grab your wrist and hold it near his face, breathing hot on your skin.

"So what was it then, a mistake or something that never happened? Because I've got the imagery ingrained into my mind pretty damn hard." His eyes bore into yours, and you despised how weak your knees got. He shouldn't have this effect on you, you promised yourself he wouldn't.

You tore your hand back, ignoring him as you continued to hang clothes up, your shirt riding up on the front. You hadn't noticed until he spoke, until he pointed out something.

"Where did you get that scar?"

Your breath stopped, your hands stilled, and your mind began to race for an answer. No one had ever spotted it before, you always kept it covered.

"It wasn't there before you left. Did... Did your dad do it to you?" 

If only he knew how wrong he was. 

Flashback to 4 years ago

"There's been a complication." 

On this day of all days, that was not what you wanted to hear.

"Is everything okay?" You grabbed for your mom's hand, fingers clasped and clammy.

"She's going to be fine, but we need to operate, her blood pressure is spiking and she's losing oxygen. If we leave it any longer we put her at risk of a heart or brain condition." The doctor spoke quickly, stepping back and in turn scaring you further.

All these words that you didn't want to hear.

After that, it was a blur, the sound of squeaky wheels and the bright lights causing you to remember very little else about that day.

Back to the current day. 

"Hello? You're just staring at me now and you look a bit nuts."

You were frozen solid until he said that, quickly rushing to pull your shirt down, covering your scar. You didn't show it, not for insecurity reasons, but purely because having to explain it was so much worse.

"I'm fine, I have to go." You hadn't finished with the clothes, but you needed to go, you needed out of here. "I need some air."

"We're outside." Eddie held your bicep, not gripping it tightly, but the touch alone was enough to stop you. "Please… talk to me." 

What could you do? What could you say? The man you've loved your whole life was standing before you, looking at you like you were a bird, ready to fly at a moment's notice. You felt like you could, like at the smallest breeze, the slightest movement, you would be gone, flying to brighter skies and away from this pain.

"What do you want from me? What more is there to say? Have you found a part of my dignity you haven't crushed yet?" Your words were venomous, uncontrolled and spiteful. Your mother would be proud.

He stood there like a deer in the headlights, looking at you with his lips slightly parted. You wished you never looked at them, wished you never fell into his sticky maple eyes and got stuck.

"Ever since I met you, I knew we were going to be good for each other. Wayne saw it too, even my Dad said it when he was in between highs. I never saw it… not until freshman year." He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly seeming nervous to speak.  

The air around you both grew tense and muggy to the point that you weren't sure if it was the conversation or the heat. 

"That's when I knew it. That's when I realised that…"

He lingered, his eyes downcast and refusing to meet your own.

"Realised what Eddie?" You were quieter than you were meant to be, softer and more gentle than you were mere moments before. You knew this wasn't going where you've always wanted it to because there's no way it could.

It was as if all the air had been pulled from the world. Your throat was dry, almost like you had crossed a thousand deserts with no water. "Eddie…"

"Yes?" His eyes were hopeful, maybe because you'd answered him, maybe simply because you said his name. Whatever it was, it made it so much harder to say what you were about to say.

To look at him was to see the embodiment of a breaking heart. A heart Eddie didn't even realise still beat. He had been mad at her for so long, that he figured his heart had become as calloused as his hands. 

For some reason, this made you mad. How could he look so… so… perfectly broken, when it was you who had endured the pain and suffering that he had dealt you?

"When you stopped the letters, when you sent them back unopened, I went through every fucking stage of grief there was. I accepted that you didn't care, and I got better Eddie. I got clean. You were the most addicting, fucked up thing in my life and I got better, I got clean from you." You were panting as you spoke, chest heaving as every word carried more and more weight, yet somehow relieving all of it from your shoulders.

"Christ I've loved you for as long as I can remember and you never cared because you're an entitled selfish asshole who only thinks about himself! Moving away was the best thing to happen to me because it opened my eyes and showed me that you were never going to love me back." You were sobbing now, cheeks red from your tears.

He didn't speak, he didn't say a word. He just started at you. You needed him to talk, to show you that he listened to you, that he understood how angry you were, but all he did was stare at you with a neutral look on his face. You wanted him to be mad, you wanted him to yell at you till you felt it in your lungs.

"Jesus Eddie, fucking shout at me, scream, saying something don't just stand there and look at me!" You shoved his chest, but he was like a solid wall, unmoving.

You thumped on his chest with your fists, looking, no, begging for some sort of reaction. You didn't even realise Eddie stepping towards you, hands clasped around your wrists to stop you from hitting him any harder. You didn't notice him almost pressed against you, not until he had cupped your face, thumb hesitantly tracing your bottom lip before speaking in a hushed whisper.

"You know… you're as beautiful as the day I thought I lost you forever." 

You barely had time to seek out his eyes with your own before he kissed you, soft and needy, unlike the first kiss between you when you came back. Unlike the kiss in the garage. No, this kiss was something else, it meant something else.

It was as if a windstorm had opened around you. A rush of adrenaline surged through your veins. Your hands instinctively weaved into his hair, pulling him closer as his palms rested on your skin, delicately placed between your shoulder blades and the small of your back.

It was the type of kiss you'd read about in stories or watch in movies. Where the protagonists' problems all vanish in an instant from the touch of two pairs of lips. You were oblivious to your surroundings.

Maybe you shouldn't have been.

Eddie pulled away for air, looking at you with a heaviness in his eyes. "You walked in one day wearing this yellow sundress, and all the guys were staring at you. I felt this intense rage like I wanted to make sure no one looked at you like that except me."

You were confused, and it must have shown on your face. His lips were slightly swollen, and you were guessing yours were the same.

“You asked me and I never answered you." Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, he looked at you with a fondness you've never seen from anyone before. "I realised that I just don’t think I can see myself with anyone other than you for the rest of my life.” 

You couldn’t explain the feeling that spread through you. You knew this shouldn’t happen, there were so many reasons you two couldn’t happen. You had worked so hard on yourself, convinced yourself that all your problems lay in the hands of a 16-year-old boy from a backwoods town in Indiana.

But now… now you weren’t so sure. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

“Eddie, I…” You were cut off by a voice calling out, a high-pitched noise calling out for him. You’d recognise that sickly sweet screech anywhere.

“Eddie baby? Where are you?!” Chrissy called out from the front of the trailer, unable to see the sight of you together from where she stood. 

“Eddie you have a girlfriend.” You placed your hands on his chest, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. There were so many things you had to tell him, so many things that needed to be said.

“Only if you’re saying yes.” His voice was quiet, making your heart thump as he leaned back down. You thought he might kiss you again, but instead, he leaned in, whispering in your ear. The feel of his breath on your skin made you shiver despite the heat outside. 

“And I’m hoping you will.” He pressed a final kiss to your cheek, leaving you unable to comprehend what just happened as he disappeared behind the clothesline once again.

You were so completely fucked.

Chrissy wasn’t stupid.

Well no, let me correct that, she wasn’t entirely stupid, despite her dumb cheerleader personality. 

She knew when she was losing, and ask anyone who’s ever been up against her and you’ll find out that Chrissy was a sore loser. 

Despite his efforts to hide it, Chrissy knew from the day the girls’ car broke down that Eddie was distracted. She’d always known he wasn’t interested in her for anything more than her flexibility and eagerness to have sex with him, but this was something different. 

She knew from the day in the garage that they were fucking, it didn’t take a brain surgeon to know what a blowjob sounded like. She had been standing behind the wall for a minute or two before making her presence known, wanting to give the girl a chance to at least make herself look presentable.

Ever since that day Eddie hadn’t touched her, hadn’t even wanted her to touch him. She was losing him to some white trash lowlife and there was nothing she could do. 

Except for one thing.

Chrissy had a flair for ruining lives and getting her way. In a way, she was quite proud of what she could accomplish when she set her mind to it. And she was one hell of an actress too, given that she was able to convince Jason Carver that ‘no, he didn’t have a micropenis and yes, he was the best thing to happen to the Hawkins High Tigers.’

And so when she saw Eddie pull up outside and not immediately rush in to meet her, she ran to the window to see him going over to another trailer, her trailer, she felt her blood singe her veins. No one took her toys from her, no one stole what was rightfully hers. At least not until she was finished with it.

She walked out the door, intent on confronting them when she saw the kiss, the kind that she’d never gotten from Eddie or anyone for that matter.

And then she saw the kid's clothes, and her plan fell right into her lap.

Scurrying back into the trailer, she pretended to cry as she picked up the phone, finding the number in the phone book.

“Hello, hi, I hope I have the right number...”

The day of Willow's birthday was here, but you couldn’t sleep that night, your mind too active with thoughts of the previous afternoon. You didn’t know how someone could sleep when they had all this… emotion building up inside of them. You spent the night staring at your ceiling, and as a result, you were exhausted before the party even began.

Willow had donned her new t-shirt and a pair of black jeans you’d packed when you left. She looked adorable, even sporting a plastic princess crown you bought from the dollar store, waving the matching sceptre around like she was giving commands. Which she was.

“Look, Willa, I will get you a slice of birthday cake when the guests arrive, how does that sound?” You kneeled before her, hands on your thighs as she sat up in the soft brown lazy-boy armchair. She had been calling out for one all day and it was slowly turning your brain to mush.

She let out a little hum as if she was thinking it over, before answering with an enthusiastic “Okay!”, before going back to watching cartoons.

It wasn’t long afterwards that people started arriving. And by people I mean Eddie, Wayne and some of Eddie’s friends. Apparently, they were good with kids.

You remember some of them, particularly Steve Harrington, because who could forget the kid who came in freshman year of High School and immediately made the varsity basketball team? But the others you weren’t sure of. Yeah, you remembered faces, but names escaped you.

“Hiya, I’m Robin.” The girl came up to you, hand outstretched for you to shake. She had one of those friendly faces, an almost sunny disposition that radiated onto you. She was the only one you didn’t recognise, and you didn’t mind all that much.

Next was Steve and Nancy, your eyes going wide as they walked in and smiled at you, saying hi. You were almost certain they didn’t know who you were when you left, so seeing them in your dingy little trailer was quite a shock.

“I’ll be honest, never in my life did I expect to see the Steve Harrington standing in my doorway to come to a kids' birthday party.” You huffed a laugh, stepping aside to let them in. It was like a fever dream, watching the most popular guy in your sophomore year moving to sit on your couch, helping to blow up some balloons without ever being asked to. You remembered when he and Tommy H would give the nerds wedgies, Steve keeping lookout while Tommy stole someone's lunch money.

You also vividly remember Eddie breaking Tommys' nose when he tried to grope you at a school dance, but now probably wasn’t the time or place to bring it up.

A couple of kids showed up, early teens at best, all sitting on the floor. You knew some of them from being Will's friends and even babysat a few of them once or twice. Each of them came up to hug you, Will being last. His arms gripped you tight as if he was worried you’d disappear if he ever let go.

“It’s alright bud, I’m here, I’m not gonna leave again.” You squeezed him back, oblivious to the stare Eddie was giving you.

It was like your words were speaking to him directly. Like you were reassuring him that you were going to stick around. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, his palms sweaty against his jean-clad thighs. He didn’t realise how worried he was about this whole situation until it was presented to his face. He’d lost you once, almost overnight. He’d been in this situation before, where you were just out of reach, slipping through his fingers.

He was determined that wouldn’t happen again.

You released Will, turning around and meeting Eddie’s eye. Normally he’d look away, maybe even make an awkward cough, but this time… this time he held your gaze, lips turned up ever so slightly in the corners. It made your insides flutter just seeing it.

“Okay, who wants cake?”

The party was going off without a hitch. Willow loved the tea party set you got her as well as the crayons and colouring book from Will. She’d even made sure to give everyone a cup before plonking herself down on the ground, waving her little wand ceremoniously to announce that they could start their tea.

But her favourite gift was one that made you tear up a little, only a small bit, but teary nonetheless.

“Hey Willa, I made you something, it's called a mixtape,” Eddie spoke gently, holding his hand out to help her up before lifting her onto his knee. It warmed your very soul to see them like this, even if the truth of it all lingered in the background. 

“What's that?”

“Well, it’s a bunch of songs that your sister and I used to listen to when we weren’t much older than you.” As he said that, he stared across at you, that same gentle smile returning. You remembered those days like they were yesterday, lying out on the dried patch of grass that passed as his lawn, listening to whatever tape you two could find. It was always a hit or miss, sometimes it would be some weird music you weren’t sure of, but other times… other times it was music that would seep into your bones, would melt over your skin like a fine film, coating you in a layer of bliss and peace despite the thumping bass and squealing guitars.

 You sat and watched her turn the gift over in her hands, watching as Eddie took her over to the stereo to show her how to use it. Soft notes filled the air first of all as Close to You by The Carpenters started playing. It wasn’t your usual style, but it was memorable for you. 

It was the song that played when you first realised how much you cared about Eddie. When you turned your head on that dry yellow grass, to see him staring right back at you.

You let time slip away, listening to the music as Willow came and grabbed your hand, wanting to do that dance where she just swung your arms back and forth. You were so involved with her that you hadn’t even heard the knock on the door until someone pointed it out to you.

That was when the dread kicked in.

You couldn’t explain it, you weren’t even sure why it had come over you suddenly, but with every step towards the door, your hands got clammier and clammier until eventually you pulled it open. It was then that you could’ve sworn on it, would’ve bet on it, that your heart now resided on the floor across the room. 

A woman stood before you, 40’s at least, blonde wispy hair turning grey at the roots. And behind her, stood a strawberry blonde she-devil with a grin so wicked it would make your skin crawl.

“Hi there, I’m Sandra with Child Protective Services, I received a call and would like to have a quick talk.” 

It didn’t take long for everyone to clear out, leaving only Eddie behind to see what was going on, and to console you if needed. He wasn’t going to leave you, not when something like this had landed in your lap.

“So it’s just you and…” Sandra flicked through her notes before speaking again. “Willow, is it?” 

“Yes, it’s just us here… I’m sorry I need to ask,” You shot Chrissy a look, your answer already cemented in place with every inching step she took towards Eddie. “Who called you?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential information that we can’t release at this time.” She flicked through more notes before landing on what she was apparently looking for. “It says here that Willow was born in Nevada, is that correct?”

“Yes, she was born this day 5 years ago in Summerlin Hospital.” You rubbed your arms, wanting desperately to hold Willow, but for some reason, this demon of a woman wouldn’t let you.

“And is her father in the picture?” 

You froze, not entirely too sure how to answer that without spilling everything. You weren’t ready, and you’d never be ready, so how were you supposed to cough up now, in front of people who had no business in knowing? “We um… we left my parents in Nevada, they were… well they were abusive towards me growing up, I didn’t want that for her.” 

You thought you’d managed to get past the question, maybe even diverted the topic of conversation. If you could even class this a conversation, more like an interrogation.

“That’s not what I asked you, I asked you was Willow's father in the picture.” 

That was when you saw it in her folder, a copy of Willow’s birth certificate with only one name on it, scribbled messily by a nurse who had no business working in a hospital.

Then, just when it was all going horribly wrong, it got a whole lot worse.

“But Willow is her sister, they have the same parents, your question doesn’t make any sense.” Eddie piped up from the corner, and it took all your might not to tell him to shut the fuck up.

“Please allow her to answer the questions herself sir, your being here is a privilege, not a right.” If only she knew how wrong she was. If only she knew that he had every right to be here.

That was when the tears fell when you knew you couldn’t hold back the secrets any longer. You turned to Eddie, cheeks stained as all you could do was mouth “I’m sorry.” 

“No, her father wasn’t in the picture… we fell out of contact after I told him I was pregnant. But he’s back in it now.”

It was as if you were standing in a glass bowl, and suddenly it shattered around you, your whole world came crumbling down around you. You looked at Eddie, watched as it dawned on him what you were saying, staring as he worked the dates back in his head, face gone pale.

“Wait, I’m sorry I was called under the pretences that you had taken Willow from her parents. Are you telling me that Willow is your child?” Sandra looked at you, handing you a packet of tissues from her cracked leather bag.

“Yes, Willow is my daughter.”

After everything had come to light, it didn’t take long for Sandra to decide that there was no need for any inspection as it seemed that Willow was in a fit and loving home, something you could’ve told her from the start. You stood outside the trailer, Eddie and Chrissy just behind you as you watched her navy Pontiac drive off in a cloud of dust.

And as soon as she was gone, you turned to Chrissy, palm connecting with her cheek in a fit of rage.

“How dare you do that, how dare you try to have her taken from me? What have I ever done to you? I’ve stayed out of your way, I have done nothing towards you that warrants you being that spiteful, that hateful.” You went again, lunging at her, and you would have made it if it weren’t for Eddie grabbing you.

“Thank you, baby, I thought she was going to actually hurt me!” Chrissy said in her whiny high-pitched voice, pouting out her bottom lip as if to show that she was about to cry.

“Let me get this clear for you. We’re done. I never want to hear from you, hell I never want to even so much as see you again. We’re through.” He set you on the ground as Chrissy looked on shocked, annoyed that her stunt hadn’t resulted in lives being ruined while her own prospered, before spinning on her heel and walking away in a huff. You could only feel the terror and rage beginning to grow inside of you as he turned you to face him. “And as for you, I think it’s time we had a talk. A real one this time.” 

You wanted to protest, you wanted to kick and scream and cry and dig your heels in. You couldn’t have this conversation, you wouldn’t.

“What is there to talk about, your psycho bitch of an ex tried to have my kid taken away and failed, end of story.” You went to walk inside, stopping in your tracks when he spoke again.

“Our kid.”

Hearing him say it, like actually say it, wasn’t what you expected it to be. Instead of a ten-tonne boulder crashing onto you, it felt like a weight had been lifted.

“When were you gonna tell me Willows my kid too?”

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

Only one more chapter to go!!

@vintagehellfire @1paire2vans @introvertedmouse @ms1oftheboys @ashlynnkennedy @poisonedluv @302rocks @micheledawn1975 @corrodedcoffincumslut @f-cklife @chloe-6123 @hellfirexwhore @caseyqdilla @alyisdead @winchester-angel @sunflowerabyss @badluckgirl @blackb4ts @tlclick73 @eddiemunsonsgf2 @rozxartaki @emilyslutface @them-cute-boys @ilovetaquitosmmmm @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @captainonaboat @lottie-90 @adaydreamaway08 @munsonmunster @thecomfortgoth @uglypastels @ghost-proofbaby @trashmouth-richie @blueywrites (im honestly just tagging people i would really like to have read this.)

[randomcreator-09]

The Mahoutokoro DADA Professor

(Severus Snape x Reader)

(gif ain't mine > idk I saw it one day and saved it then forgot... But it's not mine :"3)

✨Pure fluff, maybe a lil angst heh dunno XD and a tad full of sarcasm✨

🐧AH! Suddenly had an idea to write a character where she's from an asian country and Snape is just so intrigued and annoyed by her XD. Enjoy my imaginations (didn't use grammarly on this one so it might have some grammar errors pls be kind :"3)

OH also I was inspired to write this with that one shot I dont remembor :"3 please dm me if you whoever wrote this somewhat the same trope sees or reads this, so I can tag you or maybe remove it if you request so🐧

Now enjoy ^^

-----

As Hogwarts came to another start, Severus Snape found himself sitted once again in the great hall with the insufferable children in front of him.

The war has ended, and two years have passed since his close call with death. He wished it had ended that way, though; he really has no clue what faith has put in on him again.

Nothing out of the ordinary has changed in two years, except well the dark lord being defeated and him being awarded the Merlins honor for his sacrifices, along with the Pince riches and manor named after him. He scowled at that house, and he couldn't fathom the idea of living in it, so he stayed in his humble home at the end of Spinners End.

There was a new addition to the staff, though. Professor Y/N/L, you teach the subject he has been eyeing for quite some time now, DADA.

McGonagall hired you last year, with recommendations from Hermoine of course. She has placed good words for you, complimenting how you had helped her with advocating elf rights and how you have helped Harry in defeating scoundrels of the wizarding world as an auror.

There was something unique about you, too. You didn't graduate from Hogwarts like Hermoine or Harry; you graduated from the far east. To be exact you graduated with golden robes from Mahoutokoro Wizarding School Japan.

Everyone was giddy when McGonagall introduced you in the great hall. You were wearing your golden robes, depicting your Mahoutokoro origin. You probably were the same age as Severus (having graduated from Mahoutokoro in 1971, a year early due to your exceptional skills). Severus was the least giddy, though; he despised the fact you took the spot to his dream position.

He took your presence as a challenge, and he cannot wait to embarrass you in front of the students if you ever asked for a sample duel.

And that day did came.

On October 2, 2000, you knocked on his classroom door in the middle of his potions class. You slowly peeked your head at his dungeon door and smiled at him.

Oh, how he despised your bright smile.

"Hello, Professor Snape, " you greeted as you kept your body behind the door.

Severus raised a brow and enveloped himself with his black robe. "Professor Y/L, what a pleasure to have your presence," his voice like a hoarse rumble of thunder. Nagini's bite wasn't too kind to him after the years. It pains him to speak, but he has gotten used to it now.

"Well..." you muttered under your breath as you entered his classroom. The eyes of his students are on you but are back on their cauldrons as soon as Severus slams a notebook to one table.

"Is it alright to ask you to come with me for a sample duel?" the words rolled out your mouth, startled by the sudden burst of noise that echoed throughout room.

Severus smirked slightly. 'It was his time to shine,' he thought as he pulled his sleeves up and crossed his arms. "I suppose after class?"

You nodded with a smile and gave him the details of what time the duel would be held before thanking him as you left.

Severus curtly nods at you, a welcome, I suppose, or more of a thank you. As soon as you left, he swiftly turned around and walked straight to his desk. Severus had a genuine smile plastered on his face, his thoughts running wild on how he could embarrass you infront of your students. He felt victorious even with his thoughts.

Some of his students saw this smile and were terrified by it. He's gone mad.

------ (Duel ends)

Severus was in disbelief. Shocked, totaled, bamboozled, whatever it is you name that depicts a man who just lost his wits AND WAND!

He stood there dumbfounded as you gripped his wand with your hand.

You hit him with a successful expelliarmus at what felt like 2 minutes of exchanging spells!

"Now, children, expelliarmus is a spell you do to take an opponent's wand. Using it wisely, along with other spells exchanged by me and Professor Snape, is one way to win a duel or to pass your OWLS and NEWTS," you exclaimed, walking towards Severus and handing him his wand.

You called out names of students to watch them duel. Severus walked down the duel table, his demeanor unchanged and cold, but his insides were in turmoil. He had just been defeated, infront of her and her students.

You patted his back, which made him even tad furious at how he just lost that duel. How good were you to be able to defeat him? Has he lost his talent in duelling? Is he perhaps aging too fast?

"You did well, professor. Don't be too harsh on yourself, " you said as you watched your students duel.

He glared down at you, only his eyes moving as he scoffed. 'unbelievable,' he thought. He lost to a little midget like you.

He had to do something about this humiliation. With that, he scurried away from you and into the dungeons, preparing himself from the daily torment of the memory of losing from you.

-----(Your POV before he left)

Severus stood beside you as you two stepped down the duel table.

You had caught him at his most unexpected moment and effortlessly defeated him in the duel. You were a gifted dueller, after all.

As you watched your students duel, you looked up to see Severus with his usual cold demeanor. However, as you looked down at his hands, you could see how he gripped his hands. You smiled warmly at the thought of him even thinking about this moment more than once in the future.

"You did well, professor. Don't be too harsh on yourself," you said as you watched your students duel. You hear him scoff at you before twirling dramatically around and leaving.

You smile at that, and as you hear the door close shut, you stop your student's duel and end the class for the day.

A few days have passed since your duel with Severus, and he has been avoiding you since then. You felt it since he was always following you around before, and it's not that you don't like it. You actually do.

You've liked him since the day you arrived; you've always had a thing for dark, dramatic, gothic men, and he was the spite image of that.

You've always tried to start a conversation with him, to which he either scoffs or replies a bit dryly. You don't blame him, that scar in his neck must've hurt.

As you walk the open hallways of Hogwarts, passing by and greeting students, you see his familiar silhouette. He was walking away from you a bit too fast for his normal phase. You smile at this and tried following him to where he was going.

-----(Back to Severus POV)

Severus has been dreaming about you. Silly encantation, you must have placed some sort of spell on him while in duel, he concluded to himself.

His dreams started with you kissing him on his lips at first to you straddling his lap. He'd wake up with beads of sweat all over his body despite the cold temperatures of the dungeons where his chamber was. There was a constant tent on his blanket too! He despised you even more when you've become an apparent dream of his.

It has been almost two months now since the duel. Severus has been avoiding you since, embarrassed from the duel and ashamed of the silly dreams he's been having. He can't believe he's been dreaming of you, LIKE THAT TOO?!

December 15, 2000. He decided to walk Hogwart's open corridors to get some breather. He had to do something with you, scold you for coming to his mind, his dreams, his nightmares, his... His everything.

He shook his head, no way. NO WAY he has feelings for you. NO WAY.

As he turned the corner and walked even faster, he sees you being greeted by students. His body tensing up, as he quickly eyes you head to toe.

It's been days since he last saw you, and you were as marvelous as you looked from the last. Your hair tied up in a messy bun, your golden robe over your dark blue wizard clothes beautifully insinuating your figure, and oh... Your smile. He hated that bright smile, but he blushed every time you gave him that smile.

He quickly turned around and swiftly walked away from you. Walked? He RAN.

He never felt like this, not even with Lily. He felt like a schoolgirl running away from the sight of their crush. Jeez, he really needed to man up sometimes.

"Professor Snape!" he heard you exclaim. He paused in his tracks. Shit.

He turns around to see you walking towards him, with that darn smile again.

"Professor," he mutters, trying to compose himself. Hopefully his not showing much emotions or blushing. His cheeks felt hot though, darn it.

"Would you like to go to Yule Ball with me?" you asked sweetly.

Severus was frozen. He never thought he'd ever be asked to go to Yule Ball. Not even as a professor.

He looks at you with narrowed eyes. "And why would I say yes to that?" his voice sultry and rough.

You smiled again, he's going to have a heart attack anytime soon, he could feel it.

"Well... You could always say no. I wouldn't mind asking Professor Fin-"

"Nonsense, you can never dance with such a tiny man. It'd be best if you dance with me, by practicality ofcourse" he grunts in a way that flowed out of his mouth.

You laughed, which made Severus's heart do cartwheels.

"That's settled then." as you turn around and leave.

Severus was yet again left in shock. Did he just agree to dance with you at the Yule Ball?

He slammed his palm to his forehead. Now he is just being your lap dog. He has no choice now but to actually dance with you.

The woman who defeated him in duel. The woman who took his spot in DADA. The woman from the east who Severus never met before. The woman... He currently has feelings for.

He smiles. Atleast he knows now why faith has kept him alive.

[humanitieswalkingredflag]

homecoming part 1 - h. potter

notes: finally getting back to writing <3 requests are back open, of course, will get to them in due time. honestly i'm a bit burnt out and i hope creativity will get my energy back up again. here's something with our favorite gryffindor!! tags: they're just friends in this [but not for long], homecoming, harry potter x reader, muggle!reader, sixth-year harry, very long exposition at the start, feel free to skip that, mention of growing one's hair, reader goes to a british boarding school w. uniform, word count: 1.1k

Harry Potter. Your childhood bestfriend. The two of you had met at his first year at St. Grogory's primary school, where he'd shown up shuffling behind a large boy with an ugly disposition, in too-big rags, and taped up glasses. You'd been popular enough. A pretty girl, happy and easy to talk to. Your parents loved you, your teachers adored you, you never caused trouble.

But when you saw Harry Potter, something clicked in you and persuaded you to go up to him, say hello. So you did.

The two of you hit it off wonderfully. Everyone wondered, because of course they did, how you could be friends with the boy with the too-big rags, and the taped up glasses. With the boy who turned his teachers' hair blue, or made things disappear, or suddenly showed up on the roof.

If there was one thing you didn't do, it was care.

Over the years, the two of you grew tighter and tighter. He was your best friend, you were his, and although Petunia and Vernon hated you with all their might, your parents absolutely adored Harry, and frequently invited him for dinner and the like.

Everything changed the summer of year 6. One day you were spending time with Harry like you always did, and the next, his insane aunt and uncle had moved him and dudley away to the countryside, to a lighthouse on the roudy ocean, utterly untouched by civilization.

You recieved no word from him for the rest of the summer. You worried terribly of course. What if his aunt and uncle had finally snapped? Thrown him into the ocean? Left him on the side of the road? Your 11 year old mind conjured up terrible things, all of which could have been happening to your friend at that very moment.

Your fears only grew worse when you walked into St. Grogory's that year, only to find that Harry wasn't there. You sent letter after letter to him, but recieved no reply. The Dursleys neglected to answer any questions about his whereabouts.

It was at this point that your parents broke the news to you that they were going to send you to boarding school in the country, so as to further your education. Without Harry to hold you back, you went without a fuss, and that is where you spent the next six years.

SIX YEARS LATER - PRESENT DAY

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you consider whether or not you should knock on the door of the Dursleys and congratulate them for Vernon's promotion like your mother asks that you do. For that, you'd have to take the tube from your home in London to king's cross, then the train down to Little Whinging. It would be a hassle, but maybe you'd be able to ask about harry.

You haven't forgotten him. Of course you haven't. God, it's tough and embarassing to admit, but he was your best friend, and perhaps the best friend you've ever had, because you've yet to find someone anywhere close to him at your current school. The girls are plenty nice, the boys are plenty fanciable, but you lack the connection with them that you did with Harry. Its not an open wound anymore, you're sixteen, you've gotten over it, but you remember, of course. And you still miss the friendship.

You sigh, fiddling with your school uniform, and elect to change into something else. If you're going to go, you might as well be comfortable.

The tube to King's Cross from your neighbourhood takes twenty minutes, and you pass the time on it by listening to music and working on your homework. It's at Victoria, about halfway through your journey, that someone sits beside you. You move your books slightly to accomadate the man, and when you look up, you're struck with an uncanny sense of deja vu.

You take one airpod out, "Do I know you?"

He laughs, not looking at you, and says: "You know, I get that a lot."

"Sorry," you pause, looking at him. His hair's swept over his forehead, but he brushes it out of his face as he glances at you, and recognition sweeps over you at the sight of the scar on his forehead.

"Oh my goodness," you pause, "It's you!"

His eyes narrow as he looks at you, but then something seems to click and he gives you a beaming smile.

"Harry Potter. God, it's been a while," you grin from ear to ear, overjoyed. You want to hug him, but as you look him up and down, you can hardly recognize the scraggly boy you once knew. He's fulled out, grown. He looks athletic, intelligent, most of all: grown up. Independent.

"You've grown up," he says, looking at you, "I barely recognized you."

You pause, thinking of something to say then muster up a dull: "I grew my hair."

"I can see that," he laughs.

"I... I really missed you. I mean, where did you go?" There, you asked it. Maybe the incessant pressure on your chest, begging you to say something, has a role to play in that.

"Boarding school," the words slip off of his tongue, a lie. You can't tell.

"Oh my god, me too! Where?"

"Scotland," he pauses, then adds: "Its a bit secretive. Private school and all that."

"Did the Dursleys really pay for that?" You ask, furrowing your brows.

He shakes his head, "No. Uh... my parents did. It was in their will I go there, I mean, they attended too."

A soft smile falls over your lips and you nod, "That's... sweet."

The two of you chat for the entire way to King's Cross, at what point it occurs to you that going to the Dursleys makes little to no sense.

"Could you uh, pass on a message. To your aunt and uncle?" He nods, and you smile, "Thanks. My parents just want to congratulate them on your uncle's new promotion. I mean my dad and him work together now, so..."

"Will do," he pauses, and something like apprehension flows over his features for a moment before he pushes out: "Can I get your number? Maybe we can meet up for coffee at some point."

"Oh, sure," you type it into his held out phone, "I'm free anytime."

"Really?"

"No boyfriend, no friends that live here, so..."

"That's great," Harry says, then realizing his mistake amends, "Well, not great, but..."

"I get what you mean."

You smile, and he smiles, and you remember what its like to be friends with someone like this, to really be tight.

"Text me," you say, as you get into the tube.

"I will," he replies, and you think you're finally happy again.

[track2hack]

25.05.2024

Didn’t realise we were already training for the first CTR of the year but here we are!! 🤩✨

Back to the handy dandy jockey saddle today since none of my saddles fit perfectly and I didn’t think to bring a smaller gullet with me in the car so the legs got a decent workout 😂 Not as fast today as the girls haven’t had much riding due to weather but we clocked up 8.6km in just under an hour and a half! We’ll be well prepared to do the 10km at Woodend Beach on the 16th next month and hopefully be competitive in the placings too 😜

Little miss is feeling fabulous and ready to be out doing something!! 💪

It’ll be a grand ol weekend if I can survive some cross country schooling at Okuku the Saturday before 😅😂

[leftistfeminista]

The Real Life Handmaid's Tale of Pinochet's Chile

Nieves Ayress Moreno, a MIRista militant after being severely tortured at Villa Grimaldi, was transferred to a prison run by Catholic Nuns. She had become pregnant from repeated rapes by Junta guards. "Dr. Mery, a military doctor who practiced at the Catholic University, and who told me that I should be proud to have a "son of the fatherland." Despite her health being in danger, her only hope of an abortion, under Chile's ultra-strict "pro-life laws" was to appeal to the Pope himself. A revolutionary feminist woman, in a prison run by Catholic nuns, forced to give birth. It is a nightmare out of Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale come to life.

STATEMENT OF LUZ DE LAS NIEVES AYRESS MORENO

In New York, State of New York, United States of America, on ____ days of the month of August of the year two thousand, Mrs. Luz de las

Nieves Ayress Moreno (born in Chile under the name Luz de las Nieves Ayress Moreno, Chilean citizen, legal profession, domiciled in New York, New York, USA, passport No. 6.347.871-7) of legal age, who demonstrated her identity with your passport, and states:

I make this statement to be presented as evidence in the cases pending against General Augusto Pinochet and his subordinates in Chile. I make this statement under oath and with full knowledge of the crime of perjury.

The facts are the following: I was born in Santiago, Chile on October 5, 1948. I joined the Bolivian National Liberation Army, an arm of the Socialist Party in Chile, in 1968, and in 1973 I was still a militant and ELN activist, working with women and children in the towns. I was also an art and journalism student at the University of Chile. After 1973, I was a member of the Movement of the Revolutionary Left of Chile (MIR).

A few weeks after the coup, I was at the house of the mother of a friend of mine who was in prison, when, around 10 pm, a group of police officers arrived and arrested me. They handcuffed me and took me first to the Carabineros NCO School, and, after two or three days, to the National Stadium. (At the stadium, the carabinieri would tell me that my friend's mother had named me in the hope of saving her own daughter.) At the NCO School, they beat me and slapped me. They also touched my body, threatened me with sexual advances, and insulted me. The prisoners were kept in some cells that were in the back of the School, in the stables.

In March 1974 I was transferred to the Women's Prison on Vicuña Mackenna Street, in Santiago, which was under the administration of an order of jailer nuns. Here I was in free conversation, and I stayed in a patio with the other political prisoners; they kept political prisoners apart.

In April I found out that I was pregnant, and this was confirmed by Dr. Mery, a military doctor who practiced at the Catholic University, and who told me that I should be proud to have a "son of the country." My pregnancy caused great controversy. By now my case was internationally known, due to the efforts of my mother and family to denounce what was happening to me, and also because a woman who was imprisoned with me in the Vicuña Mackenna women's prison had managed to get a my statement I was interviewed by the International Red Cross, the Kennedy Commission, Amnesty International, the International Commission on Human Rights of the Organization of American States (OAS), the United Nations High Commissioner, by Bishop Aristía of Santiago, a Dr. Phillippe , and by Cardinal Raul Silva Henríquez, who came to see his niece, who was also in prison. A group of military wives came to visit me, and they promised me my freedom if I didn't make any more statements about my pregnancy and my torture, and they threatened to take away my son once he was born.

The nuns offered to help me request permission for an abortion. I was not a religious, but because I was in a prison run by religious, I had to submit a request to the cardinal, and from the cardinal to the Pope. In Chile, abortion is punishable by law for five years and one day. I was physically very ill, and if I had a clandestine abortion in prison I could die, and for this reason I decided to have the child. After having survived months of torture and detention, I was not going to give the military the pleasure of killing me. However, in April or May, I started having a lot of pain in my belly, and losing blood clots. I miscarried spontaneously. I received no medical care during the pregnancy or miscarriage.

I never had a legal process. General Bonilla, who took an interest in my case, sent an officer to interview me in jail about my pregnancy and the sexual abuse and other torture I had suffered. In this interview, the officer told me that at one point there were three different lawsuits against me, but that the lawsuits were so contradictory to each other that the military courts declared themselves incompetent in my case. Later there was an order to transfer me to the Pisagua concentration camp, with the penalty of firing squad, but General Bonilla blocked it; he did not agree with the treatment of male and female prisoners. However, I was sentenced to imprisonment "by virtue of the state of siege."

Two dams, M .D. and María Emilia Tijaux, were with me in the women's prison, and they are witnesses of the weak state in which I found myself. Eventually my case got too complicated because of all the controversy it was causing, and since I had no official conviction from the court, in March of 1975 I was transferred to Tres Alamos.

In Tres Alamos, where I remained until December 1976, I was again subjected to rape, threats, insults, and other psychological torture. Comandante Pacheco, who was in charge of Tres Alamos, constantly abused me, subjecting me to sexual harassment for almost two years. He liked to walk around the concentration camp with me next to him. I was very weak, and I fainted frequently. I stayed in a cell with eight other companions. Another prisoner, Marcia Scantlebury, was also badly abused by Comandante Pacheco.

In the spring, I don't remember what month, they transferred us prisoners from Tres Alamos for a month to Pirque, in the mountains, because a group from the UN Human Rights Commission was coming to Chile, and they wanted to avoid a visit to Tres Alamos. It was to give a good image before the UN delegation. I was very depressed, and I felt anxious. He ate and cried a lot. The beauty of the place somehow broke me psychologically.

After a month they took us back to Tres Alamos. We continue to organize ourselves to do craft work to sell abroad. Three babies were born, and we all took care of them. My mother and my aunts would visit me in Tres Alamos. At this time my mother was making arrangements for me to go to Germany.

In December, I was expelled from Chile by the dictatorship with 17 compañeros and compañeras. The dictatorship published a special decree to expel us, leaving us with no right of return. On this list were Gladys Díaz, Víctor Toro, Luis Corbalán, and 15 other colleagues. Many international organizations, such as the Red Cross, the United Nations High Commissioner, and "CIME", UN HIGH COMMISSIONER and the solidarity of the peoples of the world, helped to get me out. In Berlin I had acquaintances, and I stayed with Nuria Nuñez, and also with Gilde Botay. During this time I was dedicated to publicly denouncing what was happening in Chile, and I traveled a lot.

[raeloganthesonic06fangirl]

A movie you put on to cry to?

How about 3?

"A Dog's Way Home" isn't really part of the other two movies, although it's adapted from a story by the same author as the Bailey Duology.

"A Dog's Way Home" is about a pitbull-mix, Bella, who is separated from her family during an attempt to relocate themselves to keep her out of jurisdiction of the "No Pitbulls" law of the town, which is not displayed in the trailer here.

In fact, the trailer only shows about 40% of the actual plot, and the way she gets into her journey is not shown here, nor is the the way she actually gets back home, both scenes implied in the trailer are actually part of an unrelated shinanagan with the squirrel, lol.

Bella is somewhat of an emotional support dog that is beloved by Lucas' mom and her fellow veterans at the hospital, which is part of why the conflict begins, because an animal control guy wants her out of town because of his prejudice against Stafford Terriers, which is honestly a very real thing that happens in many places. Along the journey, Bella makes many friends along the way, including an orphaned puma cub that she mistakes for a "Big Kitten" ((Bella's origin is that she was fostered by a "Mama Cat", and equates cats to family)). She also saves a guy in an avalanche, brings peace of mind to an old homeless man, and so on as she runs across the country to find her Lucas and Mom. It's a very wholesome story, and Scarlett Johansson's narration is really nice ((no talking animals in the movie, the narration is like how they did in "Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron"))

"A Dog's Purpose" and "A Dog's Journey" tells the tale of Bailey, a special dog that's been granted the ability to live multiple lives, after having come back the first time as a puppy in a hot car.

He keeps reincarnating as he tries to reunite with his boy, Ethan. Along the way, Bailey lives other lives and touches the hearts of others in need ((such as an officer with PTSD, a college student in need of a friend, or a woman in an abusive relationship who needs to drive to escape)), until he finds Ethan again in his old age, having become a bit of a recluse due to a rough life and rotten luck. Because of certain quirks Bailey had in his second life, leading Ethan to realize that this strange dog that's found his way to his porch is his childhood dog come back. Thanks to Bailey, Ethan is able to reconnect with people and is able to life to the fullest again.

Part two of the story picks up with Bailey settled in as Ethan is now married and watching over his step-granddaughter, CJ. Due to a chain of events, CJ and her mother leave the old farmhouse and it kickstarts a new purpose for Bailey as he succumbs to old age and cancer shortly after, coming back again as a puppy about the time CJ is of school age.

He gets adopted by her as the dog "Molly" and is able to stay with her until a tragic accident ((CJ's crazy ex runs them off the road and Bailey is a casualty)) takes Bailey's life again and he comes back as another dog, crossing paths with CJ again briefly before dying of a broken heart when she doesn't recognize him. He comes back again as a dog in New York years later, and hears her from the sound her charm bracelet makes and runs off from the adoption event to reunite, with her just thinking that this is a silly little scruffy dog that chose her as his new owner.

It doesn't take long for Bailey, now as "Max" to start giving off quirks that she finds strange and confusing, until she is finally able to visit her grandfather, Ethan and he's able to give her the scoop on what makes this dog so special. The story ends with the family finally being reunited one last time before Ethan's passing and Bailey follows him shortly after to join him across the Rainbow Bridge to be together in the afterlife.

There's A LOT more in the store I glossed over that is worth seeing despite my extensive summary, such as a few side plots and additional backstory for Bailey, but you just gotta watch them yourself and see. And yes, YOU WILL CRY.

[andrewuttaro]

Immaculate Simplicity

Few sports memories I possess are as distinct and lasting as those of the 2008 Summer Olympics. Specifically the memory that comes to mind is that of the famed American swimmer Michael Phelps. He was at his peak. These memories are aided by being largely concurrent with a family vacation I enjoyed quite a bit in Virginia Beach; that and I was going into Junior Varsity swimming that Fall, my freshman year in High School.

That summer it seemed like every other day I was watching something new about Michael Phelps. He would become the most decorated Olympian of all time with what many posited were in-born skills. I am not kidding when I say the man has partially webbed toes and biologist seemed to agree his body was uniquely designed to be good at swimming. I can still see that perfect butterfly stroke in my mind’s eye. He was the perfect swimmer.

I never made it to varsity swimming. I was bad enough that in a less forgiving program they might have sent me back down to the modified team I’d been on in Middle School. Within the same year I had been marveling at the swimming perfection of Michael Phelps I was swearing off competitive swimming myself due to a combination of hazing, lack of talent, and a newfound passion for Cross-Country running. I never got close to the same waters of swimming perfection.

We have a funny understanding of perfection don’t we? Plainly we imagine some sterilized vision of faultless grace unreachable to our kindest conceptions of ourselves. We pick up an instrument and imagine a symphony orchestra in a concert hall. This thinking infects our cultural understandings of Christianity as well: heaven is a collection of cloud-bound harpists, the Saints are wise paragons illustrated like military generals, and for we Catholics there is Mary Immaculate conceived without sin.

The Immaculate Heart of Mary (referencing Mary’s Immaculate conception i.e. conceived without sin) is really the final boss of absurdly perfect religious ideas. On the face of it even the well-versed Christian might ask: Why do we need a sinless mother when the son she bore was sinless? Does that not make her less relatable? Does that not make her less human in a certain way?

When I gushed about the Blessed Mother back in May I touched on this briefly. The monthly Catholic devotions circle around to familiar themes. This is intentional in a way: prayer often involves repetition and what better things to repeat than the inner truths of the faith? What I wrote back in May was that Mary’s perfection did not make her any less human, it made her MORE human. Sin pulls us away from complete human flourishing, not towards it.

But this monthly devotion isn’t about her immaculate conception, that comes in December. No, this is about Mary giving us the grace to be more human… and dare I say less sinful? More than that: Mary gives us the graces to be more. Maybe not Michael Phelps level graces, but graces that glow vibrantly in us, nonetheless. Yes, there will be shiny things in this article! But don’t be blinded by the light, the simplicity of this devotion is what will keep you coming back.

This feels like an old habit now, but it has served me well: let’s dive into history to start!

The Miraculous Medal

Paris in 1830. The July Revolution is unfolding. Yes, the revolution Victor Hugo was writing about in Les Misérables. This revolution replaced one monarch with another. Charles X wanted to be a more dictatorial, absolute monarch so a good old fashioned French revolution threw him out for a cousin, Louis Philippe who accepted a constitution. He would preside over a decline in French living standards, so he was himself thrown out eighteen years later in another revolt of the French people.

The same year, in the same city, something miraculous was happening. Catherine Laboure, a daughter of Charity (the female religious order to the Vincentians established two centuries earlier by the great French Saint Vincent De Paul) had just entered the convent. On July 18th she was beckoned into the chapel by what she described as a child’s voice. Once there, the Blessed Virgin Mary spoke to her saying: “God wishes to charge you with a mission. You will be contradicted, but do not fear; you will have the grace to do what is necessary. Tell your spiritual director all that passes within you. Times are evil in France and in the world.”

Four months later, the Blessed Mother actually appeared to Laboure during evening meditations. This time she displayed herself in an oval, the details of which are all laid out in the Miraculous medal itself. The most notable feature of the miraculous medal (see the thumbnail image of this post) is the words around the outside: “O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee.”

Mary was adorned with gems, most of which glistening out radiant light. Catherine asked why some of the gems were not shining and the Blessed Mother responded: “Those are the graces for which people forget to ask.” More on this exhortation in a moment. Mary told Catherine to bring a description of the image she appeared within to her confessor who would make medallions for which graces would come to those who possessed them. This Catherine did.

After some time assessing the sincerity of Catherine’s visions, her confessor did bring the visions to the Archbishop anonymously, hoping to protect Catherine from backlash. The Archbishop approved the visions and medallions were made. The devotion spread rapidly and had a big impact on the tumultuous but soaring Catholicism of the nineteenth century. The devotion was influential in the 1854 proclamation of the Immaculate Heart of Mary by Pope Pius IX, the biggest “long time coming” proclamation in the history of the Catholic Church which we’ll talk more about in December.

For her part Catherine Laboure would spend the next forty years of her life caring for the elderly and infirm outside Paris to the point she would be recognized as the Patron Saint of Seniors when she was canonized a Saint in 1947. Except for the four years immediately preceding her death in 1876 as she fell ill, Laboure gave her life exclusively to service, not the attention her visions had gained.

Nowadays you are likely to encounter the miraculous medal, in numbers, in any explicitly Catholic store or shrine. French Catholics practically throw them at you I’ve discovered. Just going to a Catholic shrine or on a retreat here or there I have come into a dozen of them. I also went to a Vincentian college, Niagara University, which helped my odds I suppose. The image itself, and its reverse, are densely packed with symbolic, prayerful meaning. Few devotions pack so much into such a little package.

The bottom of the front side has Mary standing atop the year 1830 which is a plain reference to the year of St. Catherine Laboure’s visions. The first words she spoke to Catherine are written around the outer parameter here. Mary’s arms are outstretched, symbolizing recourse to her, and the shining rays of light shine out from her hands extending the graces she told Catherine about.

As with most Marian depictions, Mary is standing on a globe representing her queenship of heaven and earth. Upon that globe is the serpent she strikes with her heel in reference to Genesis 3:15. We Catholics consider her the mysterious new eve discreetly referenced in that verse who crushes the forces of evil and sin by way of her brave acceptance of Jesus Christ before anyone else.

Before going to the symbolism on the reverse side of the medal I want to touch on this ability of Mary to dispense graces. All of Catholic Marian dogma really comes back to this idea that Mary is a mediatrix of the grace of God, indeed the premier mediatrix of that grace. Yes, God’s grace shines upon all who seek his face, but Mary is the original co-mediatrix with Christ. She is the great guide to Jesus Christ and the primary conduit of the graces he so desperately wants to impart on us.

Worth the distinction here, particularly for my non-Catholic readers, Mary is a co-mediatrix with Christ, that is she helps dispense his grace (like a true mom) like she does in so many small, personal ways and in big ways with these Marian visitations we talk about. Mary is not co-redemptrix, that is she is not herself a redeemer of humanity, that is a title and role reserved entirely for Jesus Christ. This is a critical distinction and worth repeating when you find someone scandalized by Mary’s prominence in Catholic life. Pope Francis reaffirmed this co-mediatrix/co-redemptrix distinction as recently as 2020.

Onto the reverse side of the Miraculous Medal. Around the parameter is the twelve stars crowning Mary from Revelation 12:1. While Protestants take a more agnostic understanding of this passage, it is the belief of the Catholic and Orthodox Churches (and most non-Protestant churches for that matter) that this pregnant woman giving birth referenced is Mary. The twelve stars then become a loaded metaphor, a crown unique among all Saints, a sign of her queenship over the communion of Saints, all those who pursued Jesus in exemplary ways.

This is for the same deeply relational reasons I gushed about back in May, that Mary bravely chooses Jesus before any other human being; but also because the stars indicate a sacred continuity between Jews and Christians and of the character of God himself forever. In one sense, the stars are a symbol of eternity for the ancients, as far as they knew stars lasted forever. God is eternally with us and wants to extend his saving grace to us.

The number twelve is a reference to God’s original chosen people, the nation of Israel, and their twelve tribes. The twelve stars also represent the Twelve Apostles, the foundation of Christianity and the tangible origin of the Church itself. The Twelve Apostles reference with the stars is also bluntly literally when we consider Mary a constant feature of Jesus’ earthly ministry. Those original twelve would have known Mary’s holiness quite well personally.

The twelve stars meaning goes so much deeper than I can fit in this article. Suffice to say Mary’s queenship which they represent is an honor and a grace given to all humanity via her intercession for us. Mary continually pleads our case to God outside of time and space in the realm of eternity. In the ancient world the most powerful queen in a royal court was usually the king’s mother for various reasons. Mary’s Queenship would have made perfect sense in that period of history.

Central on the reverse side is the Marian Cross. This is a regular cross with the letter M beneath it, sometimes with a crossbar linking the two. The Marian Cross is meant to represent the Blessed Mother’s presence for her son all the way through the passion, especially the crucifixion. Mary and only two of Jesus’ followers were there throughout, the ultimate fruition of Mary’s devotion to Jesus which began when she accepted his conception at the Annunciation before he was born.

The two hearts beneath the Marian Cross are the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. In June I went in depth on the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and I invite you to go back to that profound image of Jesus’ love for us in that article. The Immaculate Heart of Mary is shown with a sword piercing it. This sword represents Mary’s sorrows, namely the suffering she had to endure for her son.

Sidenote: the September devotion is the Seven Sorrows of Mary. That devotion dives deep into Mary’s experience of the salvific mission of her son. Moreover, the image itself is seven swords piercing her heart so we will explain this in much more detail next month.

I don’t need to explain why the death of a child is a traumatic suffering. However, when we consider all that Mary went through we see how profound her motherly devotion was: after all she knew the mission her son was on. She was told before he was even born. She went ahead with it all anyway and felt every joy and suffering along the way, nonetheless. Mary’s Immaculate Heart is what this month’s devotion is really all about.

Simplicity Immaculate

What are the graces “for which people forget to ask”? That is the big question left open when you first encounter this devotion. As far as I have been able to ascertain there are no specific graces frequently missed being referenced here. Rather this is an invitation to be brave like Mary was and ask for God’s grace. There is a simplicity to this worth noting. If you have a question, ask it. If you need help, request assistance. If you knock, the door will be opened for you. There is no magical thinking here: just an exhortation to be humble enough to ask for God’s help.

I could go on and on about how powerful that message would have been in St. Catherine Laboure’s moment in history in a France clutched by revolution for the second time in many people’s lifetime, “Times are evil in France and in the world” as the Blessed Mother said to Laboure, but I already went down the history hole once in this article. Still we might want to take on the comfort of that message: the ugliness of the times come and go. Divine grace always awaits us when we’re willing to accept it.

The kicker of the graces not asked for bit is the emphasis of a spiritual, almost psychologically heavy, chasm we feel between God and ourselves; the same chasm that often stops us from contemplating any personal ascent towards God or… dare I say perfection, Christian perfection. We don’t consider that magnitude of holiness something we could ever do so we simply don’t try or worse, perpetuate the idea its all an inaccessible religious standard of a bygone era.

I think I still love swimming. They normally capture my attention the most at every summer Olympics. Michael Phelps has now retired from competition. I got all excited to see him in the commentator’s booth for the U.S. Olympic Trials this go around. He isn’t defensive about his records. Michael Phelps is actually in regular contact with some of the most promising American swimmers in the pool these days.

Principal among those is one Katie Ledecky who is a handful of medals away from becoming the most decorated female Olympian of all time, an honor not far off from Phelps’ own title as the most decorated Olympian of all time. The fun thing here is that Ledecky was a fan of Phelps since she was a child. She got his autograph when he was hardly twenty-one years old, in the early phases of stunning the swimming world. Ledecky was only nine years old at that time. That 2006 autograph was before those legendary Beijing Olympics that stick in my memory.

Ledecky took that inspiration and became the greatest female swimmer ever. She did not consider Phelps an unattainable standard of perfection hindering her own striving for swimming excellence. That may sound like a ridiculous proposition: why would inspiration, a role model, discourage her from swimming? Bingo.

Now you see how grace works. Graces are God’s way of working with us if we only choose to cooperate. To put them off is in some ways taking an utterly positive thing and letting it rot on the vine. Grace is simple, beautifully simple.

No, I am not comparing Michael Phelps to God or Katie Ledecky to the Blessed Mother. The point here is that we have to overcome this existential awkwardness for lack of a better term. Christian perfection is possible with grace. We have to overcome a very human but nonetheless unhelpful compulsion that God’s callings for us are not doable or even conceivable at that. Immaculate is not a synonym for unattainable. Mary’s Immaculate Heart is our home base for the kind of striving that helps us approach Christian perfection if we only choose to cooperate with God.

It is really that simple. It is immaculate simplicity. Effort the approach to divine grace and you are likely to come away with something shiny. Your mind might really get blown when you discover the grace of God in a talent you possess just waiting to be activated by the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

Thanks for reading! My book “How to catch feelings for Jesus” is available online. Admittedly it is not this focused on the Blessed Mother, but I definitely hit on the themes of the devotion in other facets. Share this article! I am in the swing of writing on a monthly basis now and would love to hear your input. Did you really read more than 2800 words to not have something to say about it?

[yellowraincoat]

talk shop tuesday! use this ask to talk as much as you want about your OCs! love your lineup of them and im curious to know more! what's the setting they're from and what kind of dynamic your characters have? what's the story or what's your favourite scene involving them?

The line up I posted on here is from a monster hunting story I was writing last year as my capstone for my English degree (in other words I wrote 60,000 words in a single semester and I’m now convinced everything I wrote is piping hot garbage so I haven’t looked at it since 😬).

The story in large part came out of my RAGE about supernatural’s constant queerbating. At the time I was like “I’ll just write a queer monster hunting story myself that’s what I want.” (And as we know, all sustainable creative projects are fueled by rage and a hyperfixation on a bad tv show.)

So it centers a bunch of OCs, the main characters being Haley and Wells, best friends who are both ace-spec who decide to drive cross country slaying monsters due to existential dread about graduating college and also personal tragedy. They pick up other queer and trans characters along the way and save the world and become a found family and stuff. Haley is quite prickly and pretends to be tougher than she is, Wells is quite heroic and enjoys playing animal crossing. Oh and they drive around a renovated school bus that breaks down constantly while doing paranormal investigation.

I had a lot of fun with it at the time and hopefully I’ll go back to it someday when it’s sat in a drawer long enough. I still have fun drawing Haley and Georgia tho, so insert random sketches:

[ryumako]

I remember seeing you document your travels across the country. If there's something I noticed about Americans is that they tend to move out a lot, and you're probably the one I've seen do it the most haha I can't imagine what state you're living in now. And now you have a job where you need to cross borders on the daily?! That's wild to me. I was just wondering what kind of job would require you to do that (you don't need to make this ask public if you don't want to!)

Btw I've seen you wonder if you have any Tumblr mutuals left but I'm still here! I'm glad to see you're doing fine with an adorable cat!

"Across the country" is generous for sure, but I have been moved states a lot! The timeline for residences (without years because I couldn't tell you for sure atp) has been Nebraska (birth state), Oklahoma, Colorado (small town), Indiana (consider this my home state bc I did most of my growing up there), Kansas, Indiana again, Colorado again (larger town), then Kansas again (current residence, larger town). I also spent a good deal of time in Ohio (grandparents & parents state of origin) and Kentucky (the area I lived in Indiana was dubbed "Kentuckiana" due to its 10 min proximity to the state). I've also visited every state in between because I'd only ever drove/been driven to my new homes. These are generally considered Midwestern states, so I definitely don't consider myself "traveled", lol (never been to a coast).

Basically every living situation after having grown up in Indiana has been some degree of unwilling on my part, especially the initial move to Kansas when I was 16 (I was most active on this blog at that time, so some might recall that and find it surprising that I'm back here. For all intents and purposes, I'm somewhat surprised too. But for the record the town I'm in now is much larger. Not that that means I have friends or anything, just that there are generally more amenities).

On my 18th birthday I moved back to my "home town" in Indiana, got a shitty food service job, met a guy there and followed him to Colorado in 2018. I knew we weren't to last forever or anything like that and since I hadn't had plans to go to college since I was 15, this wasn't 'ruining my life' or anything (I had already long lost faith in my career aptitude). I had fun though I maybe could've planned the end better. Mid 2019 when our relationship ended sooner than I'd anticipated, I moved back in with my dad in Kansas (could've gone back to Indiana again but it wasn't really in the cards and things hadn't been the same anyway). He had since moved to an even smaller town than the one I had graduated high school in (about 6k people, where, in contrast, the town in Colorado I had just come from was about 600k). This era was objectively the lowest in my life (not because the town was tiny, just Many Reasons). Eventually my dad lost his job and told me he wasn't sure he could afford our rental much longer and strongly implied I might be better off on my own. I rented a crappy apartment within walking distance to my hospital kitchen job, lived alone for the first time, and lived there for about a year and a half before I all but generally gave up and started flinging myself around on dating apps. One guy, who lived in a suburb of one of the state's largest towns, stuck, and we've been dating for almost two years, living together in said larger town for a year and half.

His mom got me my current job! Which I really like, actually. It's absolutely bizarre to enjoy the actual labor of it, not to mention finally getting treated like an adult by an employer (benefits?? no real dress code?? no micro-managing??). I'm what they call a hotshot courier (that's the actual title), where instead of moving many parcels locally in bulk, I take one or two high-priority parcels several hundred miles away, and that's a shift. In practice, I choose when I'm available and for what duration of road trip, I get called or I don't, I accept or I don't, and I take the box and a small company vehicle on a drive (the shortest trips are at least 4 hours round-trip, and the longest drive I've been sent on was 14 hours total, though they can be much longer). Most frequently, I go to Kansas City or Oklahoma City, but I also go to Omaha and Lincoln NE, St Louis MO, Dallas TX, sometimes places in Arkansas, and many smaller places in between. Last October I did something called an "on-board carry", where the shipping company pays one of us to accompany a parcel on a plane (to have a constant set of eyes on it) and got to visit Seattle! Though I only had time to stick to the vicinity of the airport lol. As someone who always secretly wanted to be a trucker but didn't want to get a CDL, it's a very cool gig.

ETA (because I didn't proofread): I'm glad ur still around as well! Even if my memory is poor! People rag on Tumblr but just as with any other socmed it's literally fine if u know how to curate ur shit. I have no other socmed though bc of the Advertising. And the little cat is insane btw. But endearing

[random2908]

Today is my brother's first birthday since his death. I don't want it to go unremarked. We are working toward some approximation of justice for him, as best we can, but we don't know how much we're going to get.

I know I haven't been around on tumblr much. I already wasn't around much leading up to it--because a month before he died, I had my big African safari trip (the last time I saw him!); and right before that a friend was visiting from out of town for over a week; and the month before that I was moving into a new house; and the two months before that I was selling my old apartment and buying my new house; and the two months before that I was settling into a new job; and the month before that I was moving cross-country out of the apartment I'd lived in for 17 years; and the two months before that I was doing job interviews and traveling to visit my brother and my parents; and the month before that I was quitting my awful job; and the month before that I was... idk, kinda in an emotional limbo of planning to quit but not having done it yet; and the month before that I was on my walking trip in England; and the month before that I was being driven to quit my awful job, including being forced to work for 22 hours straight on a weekend, and a screaming match with my boss in the hallway. So that was a huge 13 months with very little down-time.

While I was at my awful job I certainly did spend a lot of time on tumblr--as well as immediately prior to that, 8-10 years ago, when I was unemployed. (I've had this tumblr for, I guess, 10 1/2 years now, since way back when I was originally giving up on working and sliding into unemployment due to a mix of burn-out and immune diseases.)

But my brother's death shifted a lot of things for me, just in terms of where I was spending my leisure time, and maybe those shifts are permanent. Or maybe they'd already been coming for a year before that.

And I've been so, so busy at work, since then. Mostly because of good things! I'm the second senior-most scientist on a very successful project, and the senior-most scientist on my project can't do any work travel during the school year due to his family situation (he has a small kid, and his wife is a professor). So for 9 months out of the year, I'm the one being sent to do customer installations, and to lead off-site field testing. And I'm being fairly good about not working long hours... But even working 40 hours a week is exhausting when some of those hours are overnight tests, and sometimes I'm away from home on field-testing trips for up to two weeks at a time. The company springs for decent mid-range hotels--not luxurious by any means, but I'm not camped out in a scary motel or anything (except maybe at one point while road-tripping my equipment to a test site). But even so, just being away from home so much is hard.

Out of the past 3 months I've spent 4 weeks away from home for a total of 3 business trips, plus nearly a week on a couple short family trips (eclipse and Passover). It's just... a lot. So yeah, my leisure time and activities are just that much more constrained, just because my attention, even more than my time, is so constrained.

Anyway. I'm still here, occasionally. I still enjoy the time I spend here, but I'm spending 15-30 minutes here twice a week now. So I'm not seeing most of the stuff, and I have close to no interest in any of the more serious posts because my life is so serious. Maybe in the next few months things will calm down and I'll be back more. Maybe things will calm down and I'll pick up a new hobby instead. Maybe things won't calm down, idk.

But I just wanted to say, my life is a soap opera right now, almost entirely in ways I can't talk about here, but not everything is bad. And the reasons I'm not around are most immediately because of good things in my life, even if the whole evolving situation with my brother's death is weighing on me in the background. And I'm still around tumblr occasionally, I'm still seeing like 5% of the jokes on my dash, and I appreciate that they're there when I'm in the mood for them.

[sweetdreamer215]

Book Review: The Hunger Games

Books: The Hunger Games Author: Suzanne Collins Genre: Dystopian YA Format: Paperback and E-book Time Frame: December 2023 (Also read during this time was Catching Fire and Mockingjay)

Why? Our next book in our book club was A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes...and I never finished this series, more below the photo.

So I have read the Hunger Games when it first came out in paper back, back in the day when I was in high school. My mom was the kind of person that said we couldn't by books until they came out on paperback because hardback was too expensive. I wasn't able to read Catching Fire and Mockingjay due to that rule until I pretty much could read it on Kindle Unlimited (that and other things happening like college, reading other books etc.) So this was a first time for reading Catching Fire and Mocking Jay.

Quick Summary of Hunger Games: Katniss Everdeen is a young woman who lives in District 12 (the Appalachian area of the former United States). Panem the country she now lives in after the war is controlled by the capital and has 12 districts...formerly 13. Her family is poor, one of the poorer families and the Hunger Games happens every year. A way to remind the people what happens when you cross the capitol. One boy and one girl from each district would be chosen to go to the capitol and fight to the death. Katniss's name was in the jar 20 times, but her sister's name was only 1. One time per year until they turned 18 starting from the age of 12. A person could put their name in more times if for tesserae which allowed for the purchase of food and other things needed for survival. She wasn't worried for her sister. And then Prim's name was called. Katniss volunteered for her sister and then she was rushed off to her death, where she would have to fight not only her district mate to the death but 22 other children, with the careers being raised for this and others having more of an advantage due to food availability or more. The only people who could be on her side is a drunk former winner of district 12, Haymitch, and the woman from the capitol who can't see the forest for the trees, and despised working with their district, Effie. Maybe if she was lucky the boy who was reaped with her, but she'd have to kill him anyway. Review:

One thing I've noticed with female YA Dystopian protagonists is that they have flat personalities just like the protagonist of Elspeth in One Dark Window. This is a survival thing and I get that but Elspeth would have glimpses of look there is more to her than just survival mode and for Katniss it's not there.

As this was a reread of the Hunger Games I did spot a few things I didn't notice the first few times I read it. This is also reading it quickly back when I was in high school versus now, years older. For example her going I don't have friends, people don't like me. It shows Katniss as an unreliable narrator especially when she describes the Mayor's daughter who eats with her almost every day and also will do classwork with her every day.

How she misreads Peeta's gestures as him just being kind versus him being head over heels for her from the beginning. It does show some abusive relationships with Peeta's family and Katniss's mother going into a depression that Katniss can't forgive her for.

The one thing I couldn't understand that back when I first read it, and even now partially, is how people got a love triangle from this first book. I understand the dying for a good love triangle and people seeing love triangles everywhere, which is something that was common when this first book came out but also even now. But Katniss is in survival mode, she had no idea that Peeta actually liked her, she had no idea that Gale liked her. While she has an interest in Peeta that she routinely squashes every time, he's nice to everyone, he's just a kind person, etc. She has no interest in Gale in that way, she seems him as a kindred spirit at the farthest and a brother as the closest. He's the only person she would trust to keep Primm and her mother safe because he is family.

There is so much dissection and dissertation of this book that I wouldn't be able to do it justice, but as a first book in a series it does an amazing job. It brings the readers in with an exciting premise, it hints at the overlying political intrigue though that is not what the book is about at this point. At this point it does its job of introducing the main character, at building the world, at making connections and relationships between the characters and giving some agency to them. If we were to compare this to some of the other popular YA novels turned movies that came out after this one, they fail at that aspect. They immediately try to dump us (the reader) into political intrigue without giving us a reason to care for the characters, or to care for the world/setting. Because of this they hide important details in books 3 or 4 expecting you to be invested from book 1 when they didn't do anything to invest the reader.

Suzanne Collins has also gone on the record to say that she'll only write something if she feels like she has something to say, which I think is admirable. She could have milked this for ages, this world is designed in a way to do so, and the fact that she doesn't tells a lot about her character.

Like I said there is a lot that one could dissect about this series, the characters, the districts, the capitol etc. And there are people who have done so amazingly. An example of one is Leftie on Tiktok, she does an amazing job on dissecting and giving information about it. Ok Ratings: Characters: 4 out of 5 stars

Plot: 4 out of 5 stars

Writing: 4 out of 5 stars

Overall: 4 out of 5 stars

This was a very good Dystopian YA novel and a great start. It could have been a stand alone book and done amazing just as that. There is a lot of foreshadowing of character depth in part one and shows how people can be blinded to others when they are focused on their own goals. Next Review: Catching Fire