#anyways if you could say a prayer for us. for my parents especially but also my sister

[itspileofgoodthings]

If Jane Austen could write about my family from the outside and I could read it then maybe I would be healed.

[roseshewrites]

Down The Devil's Path snippet (1922 human Alastor WIP) - ARFlanagan

"Bless me, Père, for I have sinned. It's been twelve years since my last confession," Alastor had said, the words dry in his mouth. 

A curl of his lip, a sardonic smile. People really did this. Good people, evil people, and anyone in between like himself who had his trepidous beginnings onto a path the likes of which would make someone's hair curl.

 

"It's been a long time, mon enfant.. What sins have you commited that you seek forgiveness for?" 

"No longer 'enfant', Father," he had laughed, "I've done things a child would never think to do except for an exceptionally cruel one. I suppose that was me, then." 

His laugh had been the hollow sort, echoing drily against the mahogany walls of the confessional booth. In front of him, the Father's shadow was cast across the grate, silent and listening. 

"If you're waiting for my contrition, I don't know if I have it in me," Alastor continued, "Anyway, I wanted to tell someone. Be recognized for it, maybe. I killed a woman yesterday." 

Alastor tilted his head as he grinned, waiting for the poor priest's response; if he squinted his eyes and leaned in, he could just see the dark profile beyond the grate. 

He hadn't actually done it, yet. The woman was currently tied up head to toe in his basement. An evil thing, he thought of her. Vicious, like him, and that was how he liked them; but not cruel, and especially not cruel to children who had done nothing deserving of torture yet on this earth. 

"Ah," the Priest responded, muttering something in a latin prayer and seeming to cross himself. "Is this....the first of such crimes?" 

"No, Père. The most recent of many. My first woman kill, though. I don't generally go after women. She'd done something unforgivable in my eyes. See I had witnessed her shaking her child- a four month old, mind you- and it was crying so loudly and screaming, I couldn't help myself. I saw red, and before I knew it I had taken the baby from her and sliced her throat with my pocket knife." 

.."And the child?" 

"Safe," Alastor quipped, "I'm not that much of a monster! Not yet. She's with the Ursuline Sisters in the French Quarter." 

"You said you're not here to feel contrition. Why tell me all this then?" - dear Père was having trouble keeping the tremor out of his voice. Too bad, Alastor thought with glee, he is honor bound to keep the anonymity of Confession. It's his holy duty.

"Well, I had a curiosity, really. Since number one, I don't believe I've sinned in the traditional sense- I had a question in my mind in what the lord almighty might say about my soul...I'm on my devil's path. That's what I call it. And before I go down fully, embrace it, you tell me; how much potential is there for an absolvement?"  

Alastor really didn't want to know. In truth, he didn't give a single shit. But his visit with the Ursuline Sisters had sparked a strange memory in him; of a church in his old neighborhood, St. Augustine, which he used to attend with his parents, or rather was made to attend. Even now the smoky tang of incense made his throat hurt and feel dry, the walls closed in. It was the opposite of holy. 

"I would urge you to turn yourself in," the poor priest had begged him, "There is absolution in admittance of guilt. That's your first step. What you've done..." 

"What I've done is unforgivable," Alastor finished for him, "But what's more, my lady friend tried to trick me. 'I'm expecting,' she said, when she saw how angry I'd gotten, and Père, what's more is that I hate a liar and an abuser in tandem."

She really thought she had him there; what a dolt. And to lie to someone like Alastor, who was well-versed in body language and silent ticks, who also was attuned to the smell of blood, he'd known she had just gotten her menses. He wasn't stupid. He had quite purposely left her to languish in her own blood so as to teach her a lesson.

He was growing bored with the situation, however; Père's trembling had become irksome and he could feel that hint of boiling haze which had been unlocked yesterday come over him. Maybe it was the sight of an abused child, perhaps the screams of said youngling, and better yet, an as untold memory striking a chord with him as he handed the squalling thing over to the gentle Ursuline ladies at their orphanage. 

He wanted to act fast, and so when he withdrew his pocket knife and stabbed it through the grate, giggling inconsolably at the Père's terror, he crossed himself and gave a mocking bow toward the confessional booth as he left, saying, "And there's the end of it, really! Oh stop yelling. I'm not going to kill you." 

He'd gotten his answer; absolution was a constantly changing and fluid form conducted in an ouroboros, a snake, eating its own tail in an eternal cycle. Damn foolish of humanity to make up ways to be redeemed when there was no such thing.

[thinkin-bout-milgram]

Idk abt lore but have u ever considered muu and amane parallels

They both mention either “magic of sorry”( according to google translate) or “sorry spells” respectively, and sorry seems to be a recurring thing for both of their first trial songs, tho muu more then amane

Theyre both rlly childish and while amane was raised in an actual cult muu was in kinda cult of personality situation. Amane asks if shes a good girl and if she can be weak/spoil herself while muu does both those things on her own terms and wonders if shes a bad girl.

Both of them seem to admire their parents a lot, etc

Also, according to the amane minigram abt her parents, i kinda wonder if her dad was one kf the four leaders if it translates to “his people”. If thats true then it wld imply that tho amane holds a lit of respect and admiration for him, she doesnt see him as a father, thus why he appears like a robot thing in magic

Also while on amanes mv i definitely agree that riyone staged the accident but i think her more official role in the cult might be rituals, or more specifically healing ones, bc her pigtails are bandaids and shes the kne who first suggests praying for the orange cat.

Also the four faces behind the hurt orange cat seem ro be colorcodes for the four leaders praying for him, maybe suggesting that the cult believes that the four leaders can heal any wounds?

That wld mean that amanes treatment not only goes against the cults beliefs but the leaders authority as a whole

Anyways just some randkm thoughts that have been fermenting srry!

Hello again!

I definitely think that there's high overlap between Amane and Mu. They're also similar in the fact that they both had to endure a lot of pain (seemingly emotional and physical) before they got to the point of murder (Mu with the endless bullying, Amane with being literally tortured for indoctrination). I think that a lot of Milgram prisoners have some parallels between them; honestly, I think it could be really fun to take a look at how I could pair the prisoners up in terms of similarities, so thanks for that idea!

I'm not sure about translations and such, but I've always been under the impression that Amane's dad was away a lot? I don't remember where I got that from, I feel like she mentioned something about it though. I'd thought it was a "I respect my dad but he's always busy so these other people (the four robot leaders) basically raised me."

I think that Riyone running rituals makes a lot of sense! My interpretation of the prayer scene isn't necessarily that they believe that the leaders can heal all pain or anything, but rather that everything happens for a reason/God can injure and heal as desired so they shouldn't mess with it. Instead of using medicine, which is considered evil, they should pray and ask God to handle it for them. That's definitely what the cult leaders were preaching, though, so either way, Amane was definitely directly opposing them by healing the cat (you can especially tell because she puts a finger to her mouth as if to say "it's a secret" right before she's found out).

[seasideretreat]

French

I play video games to learn French. It's actually really tough. My favorite one is Planet Zoo. You know, many people want to be zookeepers I've heard. I can imagine why, it's really fun to work with animals I think, especially exotic animals. You know, last night I was thinking of the numinous. Numinosity is a concept introduced in the Western world of thought in the early 20th century. I believe it is a crucial concept: it points us to the spiritual difference of religion, that pushes us to do stuff like meditation, cryptic philosophy, prayer and reading the Bible. We want to connect with the numinous, and this can actually be a really practical question; religions offer us many ways to do this, like adhering to a particular lifestyle or reading the Bible. You know, I got up early today again, not necessarily to write, but this is my new philosophy: if I get up before eleven I will write my blog in the mornings. It's quite nice because then I can have the rest of the day off. You know, I really get to write nice things all the time, because I have a better process these days, but I still don't really know what to do when writing; you know, I want to do research, you know, to write nice things but I just can't think of anything to research; well, I guess I could study English history, I am interested in that, but it doesn't do me that much and I know a lot about it already. Right now I am listening to a Let's Play by GhazPlays, he is a really good Youtuber, but he doesn't have that many viewers, still, he is really productive; I was listening to an album called Haunted Mountain by a guy called Buck Meek just now, and I kind of liked it, but I find Let's Playing more relaxing; not very much so necessarily, you know, writing is work, mostly, and you can't really relax whilst you're typing you know, but I am thinking later I could just sit in my chair and make a few Sudoku puzzles, that'll probably be relaxing, you know, it's not that hard to get through the day I suppose, when you just stay happy; and that's what religion is for, to allow us to stay happy, although it's hard; I don't know how religion really works, you know, and I don't know what the purpose of religion really is, but it's something with being a guide for life and the numinous, et cetera. You know, I really kind of regret not sleeping out, but that's the thing, I don't really want to stay in bed necessarily, you know, I just got nothing to do, and I usually get up at eleven, you know, I just brave the day anyway, but yeah, recently I started writing in the mornings, you know, and it's kind of harder because you don't get to prepare I'd say, but yeah, whatever.

You know, the point of a day is to have a good time. Sleeping is really pleasant, but writing can be pleasant too, you know; and if you know how to get through the day it ain't so bad; life is very weird, you know, and we do weird things all the time; this is the thing, I start writing at eight or around eight, and then just have a slow day until eleven o'clock; and what happens at eleven o'clock? Nothing, I just find something else to do. I suppose having an eventful morning is all right. I always really liked it when I got down the stairs in my parents' house in the morning when I was young and my mother would be sitting there, listening to the radio. My dad would always get up much later, just like my sister. My mother and I were the early birds. You know, I also really like talking I suppose, but these days I don't really talk so much, I can't think of anything to say. My dad said I was laconic, which is an admirable quality, although maybe he was just teasing me because I say so little. Tomorrow I have to work for the mail again, I feel okay regarding it, I think it will be okay; you know, its actually kind of nice; you know, I don't think I'd mind working in an office, but I can't think of any nice job in an office that I could take, probably since I don't have a very competitive degree. I studied Asian Studies. You know, I still don't know what I really learned there. I used to study history and I got my Bachelor of Arts in that, and I kind of learned how to write there, and kind of how great Dutch history is and all that, you know, random things; but with Asian Studies, I really have no idea what I learned; I didn't learn how to write, you know, I barely felt any of that teacher was saying in the tutorials, and the lectures were all so chaotic and specific; I really don't know what I learned, I suppose I will find out eventually, but it's all not so funny, you know, it's just bad. I did a course on Mongolian history, you know the history of the Mongolian empire, and that was a nice course, but also quite chaotic maybe, and not very companionate. You know, history was just really my thing, I guess, and I shouldn't have switched to Asian Studies; but yeah, I did a specialization that focussed partially on history, so I guess I can just profile myself as a historian; in which case, studying Asian Studies I just learned the glories of Japanese, Chinese and Middle-Eastern history. You know, I sometimes wish I'd have taken the opportunity, after my Bachelors, to study theology. I feel like theology is a much more academic and professional field than history. You know, it's really weird that history is such a big field in academia, considering theology is what university was all about in the beginning; and someone actually called theology history from the inside; you know, history is just a big pile of facts without the religious aspect; you know, we are kind of doubting the Whig version of history nowadays; you know, I did kind of learn something specific at Asian Studies, basically to ask big questions; you know, that's someting we don't do at history, I think; in history, you ask ridiculously small questions and then do a ridiculous amount of (virtual) work to answer it. But yeah, was studying Asian Studies of any practical value? I have asked myself this question a thousand times and I cannot figure it out. I didn't learn to speak Chinese, which would've been a great boon for my curriculum vitae, and I didn't learn how to hold a Confucian sermon or a Buddhist seminar or something like that, which might've given me a direction in life; but I did learn something about how we try to understand a foreign place, and I learned to think hard on historiographical questions. Of course, that ain't a practical value, but yeah, this is the age old question: what do we learn from history? I'd say we learn the most general truths from history, because it is the most general science, but people don't consider it a science, they consider it an art.

What do we learn from philosophy? They say history is just philosophy teaching by example. Philosophy may teach us that reality is an illusion. Or that we ought to be ourselves. History can teach us those things too, only it does so only after empirical investigation. Really, history is just telling stories, but the purpose of university is to figure things out based on this history. We often imagine history as reaching back into the past to discover more about a question. But I have heard it said that the news is also a form of history. Cicero said that history is the mistress of life. We are simply stuck in history and we have to do as she says. In this sense, history is just context. Studying history has no point, but it can serve a function when we try to learn something, since it gives us insight in the meaning of the science. In this sense, from studying Asian Studies I learned nothing, but I did get a better vision on things I already knew, such as war, or religion, or philosophy. But yeah, what is science? History is a part of science, not a science in itself, so studying history teaches you to think critically, but about very general topics. We might say that studying history is pointless, but it does make a difference. Without history, we'd not know the context of the science, and then we wouldn't see the point of anything. You know, it's clever to study history, because it helps you improve your science. I don't know.

[alixismix]

>Interesting that our country seems to have the worst gun violence yet Australia doesn't Canada doesn't United Kingdom doesn't Norway doesn't New Zealand doesn't. So how are we different that we can't control this interesting.

>Australia, Canada, UK, and Norway (idk about new Zealand considering its population) is nowhere near Americas numbers. With what I mentioned (population) and other cultural factors in this argument, their main issue, although not with guns, definitely stems from domestic terrorism, to government control. All thanks to the removal of their firearms of course.

>So I guess we will go ahead with thoughts and prayers every time an innocent child is blown apart at least that's what I'm getting from the return posts you are okay with children being torn apart.

>nice. Yeah instead of respecting the deaths or the ppl who are traumatized by them you're using them as a ploy to push your fear mongering. Yes I am a Christian that encourages and welcomes prayers, but that school was already a gun free zone, what more do you want??

>how many cops and law enforcement were at the school Ulvade they had plenty of guns how many were available to take that gunman down.

Cops take bad guys down.

You ppl bitch.

Cops don't do shit.

You ppl bitch.

Cops exist.

You ppl bitch.

>Look, Ulvade was a complete dog shit situation with everyone involved it shouldn't have happened and those cops should be flogged for the lack of action, especially the one with the wife. Fuck them, fuck the parents.

Further more if you actually took ten minutes to research, you can actually find evidence of corruption at play. From the cops taking their sweet time, knowing of the shooter and even letting him shoot up a retirement home across from the school, to the DEMOCRATIC election that took place a week later (on the topic of gun control no less).

All of it was foul play, and if cops aren't going to do their jobs to "serve and protect" isn't that grounds to get a gun to protect my kids? The cop won't and death is not an option for me or my kids.

I'm going to go easy on you for this one tho and cut you some slack since Ulvade literally was talked about for a day or two, and then was dropped. So nobody really knows much of what happened and most of everything dropped it as opposed to a few YouTubers bringing it up a blimp of the year.

>Has Robin Williams said guns with people don't kill people apes with guns kill people.

>Are you going to disprove him? No? Oh ok.

>When all the other civilized Nations have not the kind of death statistics that we have with guns something is wrong.

>yeah guys, like Canada. Where they have free healthcare and free dental and LGBT rep and black ppl and-

-sorry for lack of pixels.

Individual freedoms are definitely a high cost in America, but I would rather take care and look after myself as opposed to the government giving and taking shit from me.

(note: same dude to suggest that cops are incompetent btw)

>And again what people are saying from the post I have reviewed is that you are okay with a child's had exploding has an AK-47 bullet slams into their head splattering their brains on the wall with her blood as an adhesive. That's what you're saying right?

Why and how can you be so casual about talking about kids getting their heads exploded? That's sus.

Anyways-

"a true AK-47 has a fully automatic setting

which is illegal in the United States."

-google.

Criminals breaking the laws. Shocker.

I really have nothing else to add here that I didn't already say. Michael, I do not hate or disrespect your takes, in fact I hope this can open a discussion. You obviously come from a frustrated and scared/traumatized place that just wants the agony to end, even temporarily. I do too. I get it. However I think you're definitely ill informed about the topic at hand. Obviously you can still be anti gun and pro gun free areas, but I also think looking at actual stats could help you better understand the argument and situations a little better. How?

Consider the fact that more gun related deaths are of suicides and not homicides.

Like, instead of going on the ppl who use guns responsibly, share mental health resources and other stuff like that. Just my two cents tho.

Interesting that our country seems to have the worst gun violence yet Australia doesn't Canada doesn't United Kingdom doesn't Norway doesn't New Zealand doesn't. So how are we different that we can't control this interesting. So I guess we will go ahead with thoughts and prayers every time an innocent child is blown apart at least that's what I'm getting from the return posts you are okay with children being torn apart. How many cops and law enforcement were at the school Ulvade they had plenty of guns how many were available to take that gunman down.

Has Robin Williams said guns with people don't kill people apes with guns kill people

When all the other civilized Nations have not the kind of death statistics that we have with guns something is wrong.

And again what people are saying from the post I have reviewed is that you are okay with a child's had exploding has an AK-47 bullet slams into their head splattering their brains on the wall with her blood as an adhesive. That's what you're saying right?

[ohsilverplease]

I could, no smarm intended, use your thoughts and prayers and good vibes and whatever other positive things you can beam into the universe and point my way.

My mom is in the hospital, at the care level below ICU, with fluid around her heart and lungs. She was diagnosed with COPD and asthma this summer and I guess she never fully recovered from the pneumonia she also had at that point. She's awake (well I haven't talked to her today but we texted some last night) but we don't know next steps yet.

Older Bro has been visiting my parents for a week but had to fly back this morning (out of DC, a 4-hour drive from their house). Dad was driving him to the airport and stopped at my house at 2 am to drop off the dog (who belongs to my cousin, who just had back surgery so we are fostering one of his pups). Dog escaped before they even made it through the gate, while I was still sleeping. I woke up at 3 to pee, thought "hmm I thought they'd have been here an hour ago" and they drove up a minute later to say they'd been chasing her for 45 minutes and had to leave soon or Bro would miss his flight. They were going to take one more lap around the neighborhood but every time they'd gotten close to her, she'd run off because she thought it was a game. She's a black husky so being out at night was especially hard to see.

So I put my shoes and jacket on over my sheep pajamas, grabbed a flashlight and some treats, and headed out on foot just to see if she'd come for me. Luckily she'd been at my house a few times so at least maybe there would be familiar smells or whatever. I was going to put out food and water but I'd just seen a possum next door so I just put out water. (I am such a bad storyteller, these details are irrelevant, but it's really just for me.) So I walk to the end of my street, towards the busy road (which wasn't bad at 3 am obviously but there were a few cars). I saw a car pulled on the wrong side of the road and headed towards it, and then thought "what if this ISN'T my dad and brother and I'm heading to my doom" but then I heard them whistle and saw the pup run in front of the headlights. So we spent another 5 minutes trying to get her to stop for a treat, which she did, but darted away when I tried to grab her and ran up across the road to the woods.

So Dad and Bro left, frustrated and scared and also trying to get to the airport on time. I said I'd walk the block back home because it's safe enough, and as I'm walking back a car honks and some guy yells "your dog is in the middle of the road" and then she ran off ahead of me and turned onto my street and stopped to sniff and took a treat from me and let me put the leash on her. I kept giving her treats till we got inside, and then elatedly texted Dad and Bro so they could stop worrying. She drank a bunch of water and we went to bed at like 4.

Anyway, burying the lede here, but I have covid -- symptoms started 8 days ago, I tested negative the first 2 days, went about my business thinking I had a cold, and then tested positive on Monday. So I'm working from home, still congested, more fatigued than usual, and extra worried from lack of sleep and the fact that my dad didn't come back by here yet. He may have gone straight home but that would add an extra hour maybe for him to get to the hospital to see mom, but I'm not sure what time she can have visitors or anything. And I guess he doesn't want to spend time here that might cause him to transmit covid (even though he had it in August) considering he might be spending a lot of time at the hospital soon.

Anyway again. I have to take cupcakes to the office for a baby shower because I'm dumb and can't ask for help. Someone will meet me at the car so I don't infect anyone but I should have just done this differently. I'm so tired. I think C is coming over this afternoon; he also probably has covid now. Everything is just a lot.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

The shifting narrative of God’s interventism and how it reflects on the narrative on John

This post will ignore the issue authorial intent entirely because I can, but it’s also about authorial intent in a way, but I also don’t like to talk about things as happening “accidentally” because a) a serialized story like Supernatural, especially one that got renewed for much longer than anyone could possibly expect or hope in their wildest ambitions, structurally relies on serendipity, because that’s how stories work when they’re work in progress, b) a television show is an extremely multi-authored text and the chance that something happens out of the intent of any of the multiple layers of creators is kind of... statistically negligible. So, yeah, that’s my stance on the topic. Anyway.

The shifting narrative about God is simultaneously something that hangs on fortunate storytelling clicks on an essentially programmed narrative. At first, we don’t know where the fuck God is. Cas starts looking for him with little success. Raphael says he’s dead, Cas doesn’t believe it. Dean relates to his struggle because he knows the feeling of not knowing where the fuck your father is and going looking for him with little success, not knowing if he’s even alive. Then the theory that gets assumed as the truth is that God has left. He fucked off who knows where, who knows why, leaving his creation to struggle alone. Also essentially how Dean had felt after John had died; in that case there was guilt for his demon deal and everything, but the most cruel weight on Dean’s shoulder was that John left him alone to struggle with his devastatingly horrific instructions he doesn’t understand. The angels are also left with horrific instructions they don’t understand. No wonder Cas does his own ‘demon deal’ in season 6, as he desperately tries to do what he assumes his father wants from him, but he doesn’t actually know what that is.

“God has left” is maddening, and everyone is angry about it, but it has its own dignity. God has left us without clear instructions, we are confused and in pain and evil runs amock but at least, we suppose, the evil of it is our own doing. We are alone and we do our best, our best is simply not enough. We wish he gave us guidance, but he won’t. He wants us to figure it out ourselves, possibly. We don’t actually know what he wants. But maybe that’s the point. It’s possible he doesn’t even know what’s happening, he just has left the building entirely.

But then Chuck reveals himself. We find out that he never actually left. He was there. “I like front row seats. You know, I figured I’d hide out in plain sight”. He simply chooses not to intervene. He chooses not to answer. He chooses to be hands-off. He presents himself as a laissez-faire parent, because, he says, it’s better for his children to have the responsibility they need to grow up. He’s absent, but in a different way than we thought! It’s not that he doesn’t know what’s happening or isn’t interested in knowing what’s happening. He’s here, he knows what’s happening, he just stays there and watches as you stumble and struggle and scream. It’s worse, and it pains Dean so much he isn’t even afraid to yell at God. You know we’re suffering and you just don’t give us any support, any comfort.

You’re frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on, real hands-on, for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created... would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being overinvolved is no longer parenting. It’s enabling.

But it didn’t get better.

Well, I’ve been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.

Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you’re trying to justify it.

I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don’t confuse me with your dad.

At that point of the show, the writing team almost certainly didn’t have the s14-15 twist in mind. So this was probably intended to be Chuck’s truth. Later it gets twisted (retconned?) into a lie, but about that later.

Here, Chuck is really good at manipulating the conversation. Dean has a perfectly valid point, because there IS a middle ground between being overinvolved and not being involved at all. There is a middle ground between enabling your children and abandoning them completely. But Chuck hits Dean where it hurts, plays the emotional card, basically tells him that he’s too emotional to understand, too emotional to think rationally about it, because he mixes his feelings about his father to the issue and thus cannot see it clearly. He basically tells him he’s too close to it to get it. You don’t understand parenting, Dean, because you’re too blinded by your emotions about your own little life and cannot see the big picture.

It doesn’t really matter here if he’s telling the truth or lying, it already says a lot about Chuck that he’s emotionally manipulating Dean, silencing him by hitting the painful spot.

But the thing is, 11.20 immediately presents Chuck as a liar. He makes Metatron read his autobiography and the very first line is a lie (“In the beginning, there was me. Boom – detail. And what a grabber. I mean, I’m hooked, and I was there.” “I’m hooked too, and yet... details. You weren’t alone in the beginning. Your sister was with you.”) and the stuff he talks about his experience as Chuck is not exactly truthful about anything (“That, you know, makes you seem like a really grounded, likable person.” “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” “You are neither grounded nor a person!”). Metatron calls him out (“Okay. There are two types of memoir. One is honest... the other, not so much. Truth and fairy tale. Now, do you want to write Life by Keith Richards? Or do you want to write Wouldn’t It Be Nice by Brian Wilson?”). Chuck SAYS he chooses truth and gives Metatron a different manuscript, supposedly containing the truth, to which Metatron reacts positively. Metatron believes it, and we believe it with him.

Oh! Oh, this! This is what I was talking about. Chapter Ten “Why I Never Answer Prayers, and You Should Be Glad I Don’t”, and Chapter Eleven “The Truth About Divine Intervention and Why I Avoid It At All Costs”.

Nature? Divine. Human nature – toxic.

They do like blowing stuff up.

Yeah. And the worst part – they do it in my name. And then they come crying to me, asking me to forgive, to fix things. Never taking any responsibility.

What about your responsibility?

I took responsibility... by leaving. At a certain point, training wheels got to come off. No one likes a helicopter parent.

This is sort of what he later says to Dean, except that to Dean he talks about “beautiful creatures” “my baby”, talks about helping, none of the harsh tone he’s using here. When Metatron accuses him of hiding from Amara, he retorts “I am not hiding. I am just done watching my experiments’ failures”. What a different language, uh? Then Metatron asks him why he abandoned them, and Chuck answers “Because you disappointed me. You all disappointed me”. Then, he admits he lied about “learning” to play the guitar and so on, because he just gave himself the ability, and then appears to Dean and Sam, after Metatron’s passionate speech about humanity.

So, no matter the authorial intent at the time - the truthiness of Chuck’s words was already ambiguous. He kept lying and being called out, or silencing the conversation with some good ol’ gaslighting.

The season 14 finale introduces the big twist: it was, indeed, all a lie. The whole of it. Chuck didn’t abandon shit. It was all him, minutely controlling the narrative of the universe, putting the characters through all the pain and struggles for his own amusement.

The “absent father” narrative was a lie.

What does this tell us about John? Nothing, according to the authorial intent that shines through Dabb’s Lebanon. But we don’t give a crap about Dabb’s authorial intent about John! He’s just one dude and plenty of other authors have painted a different picture. So I’m going to read the narrative the way I want, because I can, and the narrative allows me to. It’s all there.

I’m suggesting that the fact that Chuck lied when he talked about being a hands-off/absentee father parallels how Dean and Sam prefer to think of their father as an “absent father” when that’s not exactly a reflection of the truth.

You left us. Alone. ‘Cause Dad was just a shell. [...] And I-I had to be more than just a brother. I had to be a father and I had to be a mother, to keep him safe.

Setting aside how “I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” sort of retcons and cleans up the Winchester family picture painted by ealier seasons, the fact that John didn’t really count as a functional father figure and Dean and Sam were essentually alone is not incorrect or anything. It is true that John would leave them to their own devices a lot, thus the long stays in motels, the hunger, the food-stealing, and all. But John wasn’t always absent, at all. He trained them as soldiers, he disciplined them, he was around enough for them to be intimately familiar with what happened when he drank. He drove them around.

It’s almost like it’s preferable to Dean and Sam to spin their own “absent father” narrative, putting the accent on the time they spent alone, painting their childhood as a time they had to grow up on their own, rather than acknowledge they grew up under the thumb of a controlling, looming figure they would regularly live in fear of, even when he was not physically present.

The “absent father” narrative is what Dean and Sam need to use to avoid confronting the reality of the father figure whose moods and whims they had to dance around. “I know things got dicey... you know, with Dad... the way he was. And I just... I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should have. I mean, I had my own stuff, you know. In order to keep the peace, probably looked like I took his side quite a bit.”

John shaped their lives. He shaped their identities. Even in the episodes where he abandons Dean or both children somewhere, he’s portrayed as the figure who drives the car. He symbolically drives the car, you know? John shaped Dean and Sam’s relationship with each other, both on a surface level (the conflicts) and on a deeper level (the parental dynamic).

Heck. The entire first season of the show plays on John’s disappearance as the “elephant in the room”. John is there by not being there, you know? And after he dies, his death - his absence - is again the elephant in the room for Dean, the weight on his psyche that he shatters under.

It is not wrong that Dean and Sam had to spend long periods of time without John. But John structured their lives in quite minute detail. Where they needed to be, what they needed to do, what they must not do, everything had to follow John’s instructions. A drill sergeant, the narrative called him, ordering how his sons needed to live their lives. That’s no absence, except on a level where Chuck not showing himself and pretending he’s not there can be considered absent. That’s a presence, not necessarily always physical, but semiotical and psychological.

John is an absent father as much as Chuck is a hands-off god. He even writes himself into the story around the time Cas has the “season 1” phase (let’s go look for dad/let’s go look for god), which is when John actually was alive and appeared. Then he was no longer physically there, but he was still shaping his characters’ lives, just like he’d always done.

The “absent father” narrative on John is that - a narrative. Spun by the characters themselves because it’s easier and actually kinder on John. Or, better, it allows them not to be crushed by the psychological implications of having to accept that their father was such a looming, minutely formative figure in their lives. They know, but they can wave the “absent father” idea around to avoid thinking about it.

“I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” is something easier to tell yourself. I was the one who did it all. But he wasn’t, and that’s the problem. The fact that John was their father - Dean’s and Sam’s - is the problem. But ironically, blaming himself for every failure is a better option for Dean than fully acknowledging John’s abuse. As long as he blames himself, he has control over it. The moment he acknowledges the extent of John’s influence, he loses control over the entire narrative of his own identity and the family identity, the family dynamics. That’s scarier, just like realizing that God manipulated everything is much scarier than the alternative. “God abandoned us” was indeed a better option, and “John left us alone” was a better option. But neither was true, and the characters faced the implications of the cosmic level, but never got to face the implication of the familial level, because the narrative always danced around it and then Dabb’s apologist version “won”.

But what’s been put in the show is still there. The narrative of John’s abuse is still there. Nothing can take it out of the story.

[cheerfullycatholic]

I feel like I am being called to the Catholic Church but I have never followed a religion and am raised by a strongly anti-church (anti-religious, really) family. I am an adult and so can follow whatever I wish, but I am sincerely worried about how they would react to this as I have discussed the idea of religion in the past and was met only with concern with how I must be "brainwashed" or otherwise manipulated. I have also made some of these excuses for myself which have so far prevented me from exploring this further which I now fully acknowledge and would like to work past. Anyways I'm sorry for this very long message, I am very lost as I do not have a support system I can lean on during this time and I'm not sure how I am supposed to begin exploring my faith. I'm sure this is odd to receive, I hope you have a lovely day ♡

Not odd at all, I'm glad you reached out ☺️

I can't say that I understand how you feel, as I was thankfully raised in the faith, but I can imagine that it must be very hard. Doing or believing anything contrary to our parents is almost always hard, especially when they're not supportive. I want you to know that you have immense support here. You are always welcome on my blog and in my dms. There's so many lovely, devout Catholics on this site. Even though we argue sometimes, Catholic Tumblr is generally a cool place (how seriously prayer requests are taken is my favorite part!) I don't know if internet support is what you want, but it's certainly here.

I don't really know what to say about your parents. I don't know what I would do in your situation. I wish I could help in some way, but I'm afraid all I'm able to do is pray for you and your family.

However, I do have a bit to say on exploring the faith! The Catechism of the Catholic Church is, basically, a book that has everything we believe in it. A free app called Laudate has (among other things) the Catechism with a convenient search bar so you can look up anything you're curious about. I've used it a fair amount and really like it. That app also has a Bible, but I prefer to use the YouVersion Bible app. That app has pretty much every version of the Bible, both Catholic and Protestant. I mostly read the New Revised Standard Catholic Version (mouthful lol). They also have many different languages to choose from.

A website called Catholic Answers is also pretty handy. There's tons of articles explaining beliefs that we have and I turn to it often whenever I have questions. Ascension Presents on YouTube has many great videos on the faith, as well.

These I believe are good starting points to learning about the faith. And of course if you have any questions you can ask me or others on Catholic Tumblr (I'll recommend some blogs in the tags).

Dear Anon, I'm so proud of you for coming this far and I'm so incredibly happy that you reached out to me. I hope all of your questions are able to be answered and you find support. No matter what, please know you're always welcome here and God and I love you very much

[writtenjewels]

Focus on Me

One and Done, Tension

The deeper they traveled into the caves, the more strange everything looked. Because vampires weren't enough, there also had to be cocoons and glowing fluid that preserved bodies that were probably a thousand years old. It was a lot for Jason to absorb but as long as he pressed forward, it wasn't overwhelming him.

And then they entered a new chamber that opened up to a vast stretch of the weirdest shit they'd seen yet. Salim said something in Arabic that Jason figured was “holy shit” or something along those lines.

“Yeah, what you said,” he agreed. “What the fuck is this place?”

“We are being judged,” Salim gulped. He sank to his knees and started to tremble. “Allah is punishing us for all the sins we have ever committed.” Jason watched him but the guy remained on his knees, still trembling, and soon began muttering in Arabic again. Maybe a prayer? Jason gave him a minute to pull his shit together but it didn't seem to be happening.

“Salim,” he called. The older man didn't respond. “Salim!” Jason repeated more firmly. “Come on, man, don't do this to me!” He got on his knees in front of Salim and shook the man. “Snap out of it!” The shaking was enough to get Salim to look at him.

Looking into his eyes, Jason made a decision on what he could do to get Salim focused again. He pushed Salim down until the man was on his back, then stared working at his belt.

“Jason, what...?”

“I need you here with me, Salim. All right? You can't go losin' it right now.” He got the man's fly open and his cock out after a bit more fumbling. Salim started to protest but then Jason put his lips around the head of the man's cock, and those protests fell silent.

He didn't think he would ever get to the point where he had a man's dick in his mouth-- especially a man who was on the other side of the war-- but Salim was different. They had fought together and had teased each other, and gotten to know each other on a friendly level as well as a carnal one. Salim was undoubtedly a good fuck, but he was also a patient listener and a calm anchor in this shitstorm.

Jason got the guy's dick good and wet with his spit, then took off his own shoes and pants before climbing on to straddle him. Salim stared up at him with eyes blown wide in desire. A much better look on him than the panic of a few minutes ago.

“That's right,” Jason encouraged him. “You just look right at me, Salim.” He sank down and gasped at the now familiar feel of Salim's cock stretching him. Salim twitched but Jason held him down. “Easy there. We're gonna take this one nice and slow.”

“That would be different,” Salim agreed shakily. Jason snorted and started to move on him slowly, rising up and sinking down for an easy ride.

“So what sorta sins have you committed anyway, to make you think this place is a punishment?”

“Some people would say I'm a failure as a man because my wife left me.” Salim swallowed and bucked his hips up restlessly. “Ah, Jason, that feels good. You feel so good, so tight.”

“I appreciate the compliment,” Jason replied with a smirk. “So you're a single parent?” he confirmed. He had latched onto that detail. “That's a tough fuckin' gig.”

“It is,” Salim agreed, “but my boy has made me proud. He's going to university in London... if only he would stop stealing.”

“Kids do dumb shit,” Jason shrugged. “That don't make you a bad parent, and it sure don't mean you deserve punishment from God.” He began to ride Salim harder and faster. He felt the man's hands slide up his legs and grip his hips. “This place, whatever the fuck it is, it's just another chamber.”

“Another chamber,” Salim agreed. He pulled Jason down on him and the marine let him for a few thrusts before forcing him to back off again. “You're teasing me, jarhead.”

“Maybe a little.” Jason rode him for a while before letting the pace go quick enough to get Salim close to an orgasm. Salim looked reluctant to push him off so he could jerk off to the finish. Jason got his clothes back on while Salim worked.

“Thank you, my friend.”

“Don't mention it. Besides, if anyone's here to be punished, it's me.” And Jason proceeded to tell Salim about what happened at the checkpoint. When he was done with that he kept on talking, confessing what he was really doing on 9/11, something he hadn't ever told anyone.

When he was done, Salim was looking at him differently. But not in a scornful or judgmental way; it was more like the man saw Jason, and it made Jason feel more exposed than when he had his pants off.

“Whatever happens,” he said, “I got your back. You and me are still standin', and you'd best believe we'll see the sun again.”

“You really think so?” Salim confirmed.

“Oorah!” Jason intoned. Salim stared at him a moment, then let out an uncertain laugh.

“What was that sound?”

“It's a marine thing.”

“Oh. So does that make me a marine, too?” Salim's tone was light and teasing. Jason snorted and rolled to his feet, helping Salim to stand beside him.

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves.” Salim chuckled and stared at Jason with a warm smile on his face. The look made Jason's insides flutter a little and he smiled back.

“We will stand together. Sword and shield.” Salim made the words sound like a promise.  Jason echoed them, and they moved on together.

[hotwings0203]

This is so utterly stupid but I have a few HC’s about Muslim Dabi(again obv this isn’t canon I just think it’s funny)

-Dabi would def be the type of Muslim dude who claims to be super religious cuz he never eats pork and “goes to the mosque to pray”(which is actually just code for hitting a blunt in the back of the parking lot w Hawks and Shigaraki💀), but yet smokes^^ and still has hella sex with like every other girl who bats her lashes at him from across the dining hall

-he also is a big cat lover, he claims since the Prophet Muhammad had cats of his own it’s sunnah to keep one

-on Eid namaz he’s the most dripped out one at the session, I’m talking black kurta dress, nice ass watch, slicked back hair...but funny enough, no one has actually seen him in line for the prayers themselves

-if he were back at home with the rest of the Todoroki’s, he’d most definitely be THE MOST spoiled one. Fuyumi would get on his ass for not cleaning the dishes, but he’d wave her off and tell her it’s training for her to be a better housewife for her future husband(cue a soapy sponge thrown at his head)

-Snitches.Constantly. Bro like this dude catches Shoto on his phone when he’s supposed to be doing a dua? Boom, instant callout followed by a long ass lecture about how he’s straying away from his religion and how he’s going to hell just because he spent one measly moment on his device instead of praising da lord

-Hes also always telling fuyumi to cover up her sleeves that come just a bittt before her wrists, claiming that she’s showing too much skin(especially when Hawks is over, that fucker’s got his eyes on every single one of his family members). But she’s quick to point out his secret tattoos, piercings, and hair dyes. He just scoffs and pulls the “women were created lesser than men so it’s okay for me to act a fool but not for you” card🙄stg I can’t stand him

-Since he’s the closest to Natsu, he’s always giving Eid money to him the most. The dude will slouch against his favorite brothers’ door, watching him play 2K. “What do you want?” Natsu asks with no real malice, not taking his eyes off the changing screen, furiously clicking away on his controller. “Mom says you gotta iron your clothes, Fuyumi’s doing her own so she can’t do yours as well. Oh, and Eid Mubarak by the way.” Natsu pauses him game and stands to stretch his arms above his head, groaning at the tendons popping in place on his back. “Yeah man, you too-what’s that?” He points to a fat parcel in Touya’s hand. The white-haired boy grins and chucks the bulging package at him, which Natsu catches easily. His eyes widen when he tears open the cream-colored paper envelope and reveals dozens of bills exceeding the usual 5-10$ family limit. “Yo, what-how-thanks Touya!” He sputters, throwing the package on his bed and throwing an arm around his brothers’ back in a man-hug. Touya rolls his eyes and barely suppresses a smile at Natsu’s excitement,(something he’s always wanting to be the source of) pounding his back to let go before he asphyxiates. He lets go and Touya smirks before heading towards the door, calling out over his shoulder, “Oh, and I’d thank Sho-turd as well while you’re singing my praise.” Natsu stops in his tracks and looks suspiciously at the withdrawing slender figure. “Why?”. Touya’s voice is distant as he moves to close and lock his door. “‘Cuz it’s his money after all.”

-The two brothers are always waking up at Sehri the earliest in Ramadhan, just so they can scarf down a majority of the food in the fridge and go to sleep without having to interact with the rest of their family at sunrise. And in the case that their family DOES wake up in time to see them chomping down food made for a WHOLE FAMILY and not just two boys, Touya is quick to grab his keys and jacket and cackle that him and Natsu are going to iHop to eat some more. Natsu ofc is quick to follow pursuit, throwing an apologetic grin towards his parents and other siblings.

-When they’re at the mosque and Enji has somehow bullied him enough to sit the hell down and actually ATTEND the lectures for once, Touya still has one up his sleeve. Planned out strategically, he always simpers to Rei that he wants to donate to the mosque, causing her eyes to water and a handful of cash thrown his way, her voice wobbly as she praises her son for actually taking the foundations of his religion seriously. Unbeknownst to her however, this just means that he’ll take a little bit more than he gives. Hawks will be standing at the front of the hall, bowing his head and using his silver tongue to graciously thank the many men and women who come forth to drop their allowance into the money basket. When he sees his best man approaching, he has to stop the smug grin from reaching his ears, instead slanting his brows and holding the basket out to the now black-haired thief. “Glad to see you’re taking eternal damnation seriously, for once,” Keigo flashes his perky whites and Dabi drops Rei’s money into the donation basket, dipping his hand a little lower for a second. “Glad to see you’re still standing here like some busboy peasant, as usual,” he fires back, the two boys catching each other’s eyes and stifling their cackles as the patched hand withdraws, a copious amount of bills in his hand, more than what he put in.

-100% steals shoes. Usually you hear about older men doing this, but age aint nothin’ but a number to Dabi, baby. “Nice kicks,” he nods to a boy Natsu’s age, noting the blue and black minimalist patterns adorning the shoes. The boy recognizes Dabi as one of the most revered figures at the mosque (and the most featured by adults. Who’d want their kid hanging out with the eldest Todoroki as an influence?) and bobs his head excitedly, spewing out the manufacture and release dates of the shoes. Dabi looks at the fanboy amusedly, continuing to lean against the shoe rack as more people crowd around and start to push the boy inside. “See you later Dabi!” The eccentric kid calls out as he’s pushed into the hall by grumbling uncles. The ravenette snickers fo himself, “Yeah, but you won’t be seeing these shoes anytime soon.”

-A notorious playboy in the community. Uncles glare at him, unable to scold him outright for his shenanigans due to his father’s close presence, and aunties steer their children away from him at dinner parties. Speaking of, Dabi’s at a dinner right now. He’s lighting up a joint in amongst 3 mesmerized girls sitting on the floor in front of him and 2 jealous dudes his age in a locked room, away from all the screaming little kids. “Wow Dabi, doesn’t it burn?” The youngest of the three girls asks him with imploring eyes. He smiles a charming smile down at her and he thinks he sees the other two swoon. “Nah, sweetheart, you get used to it after a little while. Don’t be like me though, keep yourself pure and clean,” he shoots a wink at them and they giggle, faces turning red. The other two boys sitting at the far end of the bed scowl at his successful flirting, but Dabi doesn’t care for any of them, honestly, they’re just target practice. Right as he inhaled the fumes of another puff, a little body throws itself at the door, banging its fists on the wood. “It’s time for food!” They all jump at the intrusion and chuckle as the intruder runs away, containing to scream about food being served. The group gets up to leave and exits through the door, but Dabi takes his time. He wasn’t done with his joint, and he has to waft the smell away anyways when he leaves. He’s opening a window to let out some air when he heads a soft shuffle from behind him. “Shows over guys, go eat-“ but when he turns around, the oldest girl of the three stands before him, fiddling with her hands and looking at the floor. “Um, Dabi? I know you said not to try it out by ourselves so...I was wondering if you could-if you could teach me how...?” She looks at the half-used roll in his hand, and he looks from the blunt to her face. He looks behind her. A closed door. Perfect. Taking a step forwards, he relishes in how she takes a hesitant step back, the breath in her throat catching but she still doesn’t back down. She looks to him like he’s a god, and he feels like one right now. And so he steps closer until she’s backed against the wall, his lids lowered to her wide ones, and he placed a hand next to her head. “Didnt your mom ever tell you not to take things from strangers?” He ghosts by the shell of her ear, and she shivers. “She never told me the strangers would be this hot,” and he has to laugh a bit at her tenacity. He pulls away and flops back on the bed, signaling for her to join him. “Well come one then, I’m hungry, better hurry up before I change my mind.” And 5 shotguns later, Dabi barely wipes off her bright pink lipstick from his face and straightens his kurta along with his hair before bounding down the steps, eager for food. At his command, she comes down a minute after him as to not cause any suspicion, but it doesn’t stop Rei from shooting him a knowing glare from the living room as he piles his plate with food. He shoves a veggie roll in his mouth as he turns to join the boys in the dining area, but his path is blocked by a large woman. “I know you’re up to no good. The children told me what funny smell was coming from the room upstairs, and I know you’re to blame, Touya Todoroki. I respect your mother a lot so I won’t make a scene here-“ he interrupts her, mouth half full with a roll, “-I mean, you already kinda are,-“ but she continues her tirade. “-I don’t think you’re a good influence on these kids, especially your siblings. What self respecting family would be okay with their son acting like a hooligan, having piercings, smelling like weed?” He smirks and swallows before swerving around her. “I don’t know Aunty, why don’t you ask your daughter? She didn’t seem to mind my, ah, influence.”

-When they were all younger, there was a time where End*avor wanted the boys the toughen up a bit and stop messing around so much. He brought the family up to the mountains in a nice cabin, purposefully choosing an area with farms nearby. It was around the time of Eid-e-Adha, so naturally goats and sheep’s were going to be sacrificed for the family feast. Touya already knew what was going on, so Enji left it up to him, a scrawny preteen boy to take over the initiation. Fuyumi wanted to come to the farm too, but Touya glared at her and told her to stay home because “girls are too emotional for this.”(he really did think that, but above all he held a secret soft spot for his only younger sister). Natsu and Touya both started heading down to the field to pick out a goat, and ofc little Shoto wanted to come along to. He begged and begged for his older brothers to bring him along and to not leave him at home for once, and with a sly glance to Natsu, Touya relented. He leaned down to Shoto’s eye-level and asked with serious eyes, “You sure?”. Shoto nodded eagerly, standing straight up as to look more solemn and mature. Natsu held back a snicker and grabbed Shoto by the collar as they dragged him out to the pasture. Oh, the little boy was in heaven among the bleating sheep and fluffy coats. “Go ahead, pick one out!” Touya said eagerly, nodding to the clueless toddler to choose a sacrificial sheep. And so the heterochromatic child pointed to one, looking to his big brothers for assurance, to which they gave an excited nod. Shoto yelped with glee and spent the rest of the afternoon frolicking with the soon-to-be-mutton chops, completely oblivious to its grim fate and creating a bond with the animal. So when it was finally sunset and the time came to start preparing for the feast, Touya walked over leisurely to Shoto, pushed the grubby hand away from the animal’s collar, and started pulling the creature towards the chopping block. “W-what’re you doing?” Shoto asked uncertainty. “Well, we gotta eat, right? Thanks for picking out such a fat sheep, ‘wonder how it’s gonna taste,”. The eldest grinned with malice at his youngest brother, who started to sniffle and ball his fists. “You’re lying! Leave it alone!” He cried out. “Nope, m’not lying, ask Natsu.” Natsu turns to Shoto and shrugs his shoulders without any real regret. “You’re the one who wanted to come along, right? Think of how proud dad will be of his favorite-he finally sacrificed his first sheep!”

-the first time he was ever asked to lead the namaz, Keigo and Tomura kept kicking the back of his legs so he would fall over while trying to recite the prayers, and in turn he’d immediately whip around in the middle of the whole damn hall and shoot fire at the two howling boys. Needless to say, he was never asked to read again

(one would think since Dabi knows sooo much about being a gOoD mUsLim and how to follow the rules he’d take some of that advice HIMSELF)

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xi

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: mentions of explicit themes, curse words

word count: 2.6k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist]:  @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07​ @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle​ @btsmakesmehappy​ @stargukkie​​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

As soon as you get out of the elevator, you rush to the slot where your car is parked, checking your surroundings before sending a quick text to Chohee. 

You fall silent, remembering the events that transpired last night, and having to see the cause of it all just this morning.

You barely make it out of the basement with the eight-year-old family Camry you borrowed from your parents and as you exit your apartment building, you make a mental note to have it checked one of these days. 

Thankfully, you reach Woocheon alive and in no time, considering the current state of your car. There are only thirty vacant slots left when you reach the hospital’s basement. Sighing, you keep your eyes open for any vacancies. When you spot one just beside the space reserved for motorcycles and bikes, you speed a little towards it, hoping that no one else will beat you to it. 

Just next to you, a scooter arrives, and as a familiar mop of blonde hair greets you, you knock on your window, excitedly waving at Jimin as he lifts up the scooter seat to retrieve some of his things inside. “Jimin!!” 

“Hello, _______, good morning to you too. You seem...bright-er today.” 

“I’ll tell you all the deets later with Soomin, but ackkk can you believe it? Our first day!!” Jimin laughs at your enthusiasm as he waits for you to get your stuff from the passenger seat. 

“You want me to help you with that?” Jimin eyes the duffel bag hanging by your shoulder. “I’m okay, no worries,” you reply, reassuring Jimin and waving him off with a free hand. 

“_______, it seems as heavy as it looks...” Ah, maybe the strap straining against your shirt was a little too obvious then... but you don’t have the heart to burden Jimin with your own belongings so you politely decline one more time. 

Jimin, however, isn’t convinced one bit with your statement, especially when he sees your knuckles turn white as you adjust the strap of your bag. “How ‘bout this instead? You carry my bag, and I’ll carry yours because mine is definitely lighter than that...baggage of yours, ________.” 

He doesn’t budge from his spot, raising his eyebrows as he gives you an offer you can’t deny. “Fine, but this is only for today, okay?” Pouting, you hand your bag over to Jimin who accepts it with a smug smile. He then proceeds to jokingly topple over due to the weight of your bag. 

“Jimin!” you exclaim, tugging the strap back towards you. “I’m kidding! It’s fine _______, don’t worry about me,” he smirks, doing weird poses as you both make your way out of the basement parking lot. Just a couple of minutes later, and Jimin entertaining you all the way through, you both arrive at a small restaurant just beside the hospital where the three of you agreed to meet for breakfast. 

With brows furrowed in concern, Jimin waves his fork in front of you to get your attention, “_______, you okay? You’ve been staring at that bottle for quite some time already...you think maybe you can ketchup later instead?” Jimin snickers quietly to himself, while you and Soomin have similar expressions, staring blankly at Jimin who instantly turns quiet after seeing your reactions. Jimin sinks slowly in his seat as he clears his throat. “Uhm, sorry...I’ll just shut up...for now...”

“Mustard you do that this early in the morning?” Soomin looks at you then squints her eyes at Jimin while she fights the grin playing on her lips. Jimin’s face lights up like a little kid on Christmas day. The two share a high five as they bond over their equally awful jokes as you quietly rejoice in your seat, glad that they seem to have come out of their shells after their awkward first meeting. 

You wish someone else in particular would have at least made an effort to rectify your rather unpleasant first meeting too. 

“You two would make a cute couple.” You make sure your observation is loud enough for them to hear, disguising half of your sentence as a cough to distinctly express your amusement. 

The two instantly part at your remark - Soomin going back to picking at her food while Jimin takes a sip of is drink. Your eyes widen a little bit, realizing that you might have celebrated a little too early for that. “Anyways, like Jimin here mentioned, you do seem a little distracted today...you alright?” 

You close your eyes for a bit, trying to lose the image of Jungkook greeting you in your own corridor this morning. You’re certain it’s not just your sheer pique against Jungkook that continues to bother you, but half of it is definitely the humiliation that came with realizing he was the same person that had indirectly brought you to your high last night - and your own dignity could not take the veracity of it all. 

“Okay, remember when I told you guys recently that my neighbor was leaving and that she’s looking for a new tenant, right?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“And do you also remember the time I mentioned that I am...uh...displeased with a particular human being named Jeon Jungkook?” 

It’s Soomin who makes a second murmur of affirmation. 

“Ah, yes... you meant you hate him. Am I correct?” seconds Jimin. 

“That is affirmative. Yes.” 

You take a deep breath before starting, “Well...” 

“Hang on, let me just backtrack a little bit...we’re talking about the same Jeon Jungkook from Yonsei right? The one you tied with at the boards?” 

“That is also a yes.” 

“Well... I think he might be my new neighbor.” Grimacing, your face crumples in disappointment while you imagine just all the possible things that might happen having Jungkook as your neighbor...and all the nightmares that will accompany his moving in. 

Jimin purses his lips in a poor attempt to control his snicker. “You have an insane amount of bad luck following you around, ________.” Courtesy of Chohee divulging yours and Jungkook’s history all the way to your first encounter with him, Jimin is well aware of your resentment towards Jungkook. 

“In all honesty though, he seems like a normal dude. Just leaning a bit towards the cheeky side, but nothing too atrocious really...and if I do say so myself, you really, and quite literally, just got off on the wrong foot.” 

“Jungkook...Jungkook...Jeon...” Soomin is looking somewhere else, clearly focused on trying to recall a memory as she repeatedly taps her nails against the table repeatedly. “There’s something about him that I’m forgetting but,” she says, looking at her watch, “but shit!! We’re going to be late, we gotta leave!” 

The three of you get up from your seats abruptly, the sound of your chairs scraping against the floor startling the other customers in the restaurant. “Come on! Quickly!” 

The locker room is full by the time the three of you arrive that you have to squeeze through rows of interns before a female WMC employee in uniform comes through the door with an announcement. “All interns, please proceed to the lobby for your hospital tour and orientation. Chief Park Daejung will be with you momentarily.” 

Your trio scrambles to look for free lockers while the rest of the interns start to file out of the room, so when Jimin finds a free one for the meantime, he hurriedly grabs both yours and Soomin’s stuff and stashes them inside before ushering you all out of the room to catch up with the group. 

At the lobby, the HR assistant from earlier, Narae (the same reason you’re convinced majority of the male interns are paying more attention than expected) is already making a roll call of all the interns that came in this morning and your trio just makes it in time to hear your names getting called. 

Even from the back row with all the disadvantages of having average height, you’re practically buzzing in your spot and just like a crazed woman, you’re powerless to shake off the smile that seems permanently etched on your face. 

“Excited?” Jimin nudges your side as he looks at you with an equally warm smile. “Yeah...” you murmur, marveling at the sheer size of the hospital, “I have studied my ass off my whole life for this moment...” 

Opening the information booklet handed over by Ms. Narae earlier, you slide your ballpen off your lanyard, deciding to write your name both in Korean and English on the first page and officially claiming it yours. As you get to your surname, someone bumps into you, causing you to scribble a line throughout the entire page. 

You take a deep breath, internalizing your annoyance and drilling it to the far end of your brain. Nope, you weren’t going to let this bother you, not today at the least. The name Chief Park Daejung class out however, makes you look up from the booklet. 

“Jeon Jungkook? Glad to have you join us...fifteen minutes after call time.” 

“I am sorry, Sir. Something came up. This won’t happen again.” 

The chief turns to Narae, who’s been nothing but professional the whole time, ignoring all the ogling from all the other interns, “Didn’t know we actually got him. I’d recognize this kid anywhere. He’s the spitting image of his father - plus, they both make sure to make strong first impressions,” adds the chief, handing over a clipboard back to Narae. 

Even though the voice coming from your right is unmistakable, you still close your eyes in fervent prayer, hoping that the person the chief was referring to isn’t the same number one person on your fight-on-sight list. Slowly, you pry one of your eyes open just to see Jungkook already staring you down with a smug grin on his face. “Fancy seeing you here, smally.” 

Soomin, who’s standing on your left, leans toward your ear. “Ah, that’s what I was going to say earlier this morning...Jungkook was on the intern list.” 

With the smallest smile your face muscles can muster, you look at Soomin, eye to eye. “Thanks for the warning, Soomin. I...really appreciate it.” She winks at you as she replies, “You’re very much welcome, dear.” 

Jimin, who seems to have overheard the entire conversation, looks over and waves at Jungkook. “Hey bro, didn’t know you applied for Woocheon too! This is awesome!” 

You’re starting to question if your so-called friends are really on your side or not. 

Taken aback by Jimin’s questionable enthusiasm, Jungkook scratches the back of his head before voicing out a reply, “Oh yeah...surprise! I guess...” 

Surprise indeed. 

“Well, shall we start then? We’ve got a long day ahead of us!” Chief Park clasps his hands together, “Everyone, welcome to the Woocheon Medical City.” 

Woocheon is going to be hell. 

Miss Narae continues to walk your group around the hospital’s main building - through the lobby, cafeteria, outpatient clinics, as well as the different departments. “Correct me if I’m wrong but don’t the orientations usually come before the tours?” you ask Soomin, going over to the page of the booklet showing the hospital map.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot of foot traffic in the hallways starting from ten onwards so it’s not recommended to have the tour during those times…” Soomin replies. 

“Oh… I see…” Your group finally arrives by the operating rooms and you close the booklet, focusing on Miss Narae’s guidelines. Suddenly, the automatic doors open and out come two doctors talking to each other with the taller man stretching his arms. “Interns, may I introduce to you our surgical residents, Dr. Min Yoongi and Dr. Kim Namjoon, specializing in general surgery and neurosurgery respectively.” Your group bows to the senior doctors, likewise greeting them a good morning. 

“You all sure about choosing medicine as your career path?” The smaller one of the two, who you assume to be Dr. Min, says with a straight face. 

“Hyung, don’t scare them away! But just so you know,” Dr. Kim adds, then takes a step closer to your group, “...there’s still time to back out, kids,” he whispers, earning nervous chuckles from the group. 

“Ah new babies!!” Someone from behind your group announces. With the blue scrubs he’s wearing, you assume he’s another surgeon (and an insanely handsome one too). “Apples keep the doctors away but the hospital can’t really keep its patients away can it? Else we wouldn't have such a magnificent hospital such as the Woocheon Medical City, right?” Laughter erupts from the group as he passes through, making a beeline towards Dr. Min and Dr. Kim. 

Miss Narae clears her throat, gathering everyone’s attention once more, “I’d also like to introduce to you Dr. Kim Seokjin, also a surgical resident specializing in general surgery.” 

“Oh don’t believe her! With looks like these? Sheesh! We’re actually newbie actors filming season 3 of Hospital Playlist...but you know...between us three, it’s obvious who sets the bar, right?” This earns eye rolls from both Dr. Min and the other Dr. Kim. 

Pushing Dr. Seokjin towards the operating room, Dr. Yoongi turns to your group again, “Please ignore him. We’re actual licensed doctors…Hyung just…” Dr. Min sighs, rubbing at his temples, “...he says he doesn’t like attention but he keeps on doing humiliating things like these…” 

Dr. Seokjin, who’s already inside the operating room hallway, overhears Dr. Min’s words. “Hey! Why do you keep outing me like this?! Also, this appendectomy will just take a while - wait for me! I’m craving kalguksu today!”  

“Soomin...is it just me or everyone here has got to be damn attractive?” 

Jungkook leans in from behind, raising his eyebrows at you and Soomin. “Oh you guys weren’t aware that it was one of the qualifications before getting accepted into Woocheon? Kind of an unspoken rule really…” Jungkook remarks as he crosses his arms over his chest and you swear on your life you hadn’t taken a peek at the very distracting outline of his arms. 

Jimin who seems to agree with the idea wholeheartedly, places his fingers under his chin and wriggles his eyebrows wildly. 

Boys. 

Rolling your eyes at them, you retort, “You do realize that that only means we’re hot too.” likewise raising your shoulders at them. Soomin gives you a high five before flipping her hair towards the two. Jungkook gives you both a lopsided smirk in reply, “I’m not going to deny that.” 

Soomin grabs you by the elbow, turning both your backs to the boys behind you, “You sure you hate him, or you just can’t take the way he’s flirting with you?” 

© joontier 2021

[x-infernhoes-x]

Evermore- Maliksi x Reader

Title: Evermore

Genre: : )

Warnings:  Not much but I’ll leave it to you guys lmao. Implied Relationship as well so ye.

Word Count: 1, 690 k +

Description: I don’t know WHY I get ideas for fanfics at ungodly hours of the night like I’m supposed to be on a break here since my neck still hurts from writing that 2k pound of word vomit that is known to be one of my greatest smut piece that eventually earned me the title as ‘The Emissary for Zaddy Cannibal’ WHEEZE and I started writing this at 1:57 am so let’s hope I’d finish this before 4 am. I’m basing some stuff I know about Maliksi from the comics and perhaps the anime as well. I also suggest listening to Evermore from the live-action version of Beauty and the Beast after reading!

PS. I didn’t finish this last night because I got sleepy at 3 am. There’s an AO3 version of this that’s direct to the point if you want something shorter than this one which can be found here! Oh and my grandma suggested that I set the font size to 12 instead of 11! and as always, I finished this at 3:29 am GGWP talaga.

Anyways, enjoy! _______________________________________

If people asked about how the Prince of Tikbalangs was like as a person, most of them would describe him as rowdy, haughty, stubborn at times may even be perceived as a pervert due to his distaste of not wearing any underwear underneath his jeans. Some thought of him as the classical, spoiled rich kid who cared for no one but himself but in reality, he was so much more than what people would perceive him to be. Being a Prince was something, sure he got everything that he wanted regardless of what it was, he would always find a way for it but sometimes it led him to live a rather lonely life that felt like he was nothing more but a slave to live through this illusion of being the perfect prince.

If they took the time to peek through the curtains of his façade, they would see that he just wanted someone to understand and see him for who he is but this also proved to be contradictory for the poor fellow given the fact that every time someone would show him just the right amount of honesty and kindness, he would find out that most of these people were only after him for things such as taming him to become their loyal servant, for his money or even for the sake of his looks. He thought that this curse of his would stay with him for the rest of his Engkanto life but somehow that all seemed to change his rather pessimistic view on life when he had come across someone who would turn his whole life in a different direction.

Maliksi had met (Y/N) (L/N) on one of his father’s many extravagant events where he was forced to sit through it. Of course, while his father was busy chatting away, the prince took this as an opportunity to sneak away which eventually led him towards an unsuspecting person who would change his life forever.

At first, the two of them were like total opposites, always clashing and arguing about something to the point that his father, Senior Armanaz had to interfere with their constant bickering but time seemed to wear both Maliksi and (Y/N)’s dissatisfaction for each other’s presence and instead began to tolerate the other, which eventually led into something more than just friendship among the two.

Maliksi and (Y/N) were completely inseparable, almost attached to the hip to the point that the Prince was rarely seen without them. He would take (Y/N) on trips across the country, sometimes he would take them out on long drives after his races and almost everything in between. People have reported that the two seemed even more in sync especially in battle, covering each other’s backs while bantering about which car model was the best or where they would eat after this whole ordeal like the two of them were playing a mere game of Patintero or even playing a good round of Pogs to see who got the most hits on their opponents and who seemed to be stronger.

But there were precious moments where Maliksi would take them on trips across the country just to escape from the hectic and bustling streets of the city and gave them the taste of what it means to be free and live life in color. He would watch his partner’s joyful and almost curious gaze with a feeling of warmth and care in his chest that would make him smile along with them, the two of them would participate in various festivals such as Flores de Mayo and its ritual pageant, Santa Cruzan, The Masskara Festival in Bacolod down to his personal favorite which happened to be the Moriones Festival that takes place in Marinduque. But out of those trips, the one that he treasures the most was the time Maliksi and his parents had flown out to their home province, Bukidnon to celebrate the Kaamulan Festival where his partner met the rest of the family, of course, this was also the time where he had proposed to (Y/N) after their 3 years of dating, he was glad that they had accepted his proposal.

Who knew things would eventually change from thereon. With the underworld restless and agitated from all the events that have transpired, it seemed to put a strain between Maliksi and his fiancé. To make matters worse between the two, Maliksi began to do races that would conclude in fatal car accidents for both parties. This would result in (Y/N) and Maliksi arguing non-stop every time they meet however these fights never resulted in something physical but it would leave them in tears or the other walking away with a slam of the door. This cycle seemed to break the moment a certain Babaylan-Mangdirigma had beat him at his own game and managed to snap some sense into him as well the moment his beloved ran at him at full force, scolding him right in front of Alexandra Trese before the two left to settle their problems in private.

“Magpakasal na tayo.” Maliksi told (Y/N) the morning after the two of them had reconciled. Of course, this made his fiance cough up their drink, eyes wide and still hacking their lungs out while Maliksi made his way over to them, patting their back gently to ease their pain. Once things were clear, (Y/N) could only look at him, disbelief and surprise evident on their face before they spoke, “Seryoso ka ba?! Paano yung simbahan, yung venue-“ Holding their hands in his own, Maliksi could only give his soon-to-be spouse a grin, placing a chaste kiss upon the back of their hands. “Wag ka nang magalala, babe. I’ve got it covered.” And just like he had said, Maliksi did have it covered, the venue, the church, and everything in between. It was a quick but simple ceremony that had his parents and (Y/N)’s parents present and nobody outside of the clan knew about this union between them. Time seemed to move quickly after that but the two newlyweds felt like it was an eternity for them both.

In a short amount of time the fantasy of church bells and dreaming faded into war cries and chants of ‘Sic Itur Ad Astra’  quickly and we see Maliksi and his spouse come face to face with the greatest foe they’ve ever come across, the war-god of Bukidnon, Talagbusao. With the rest of their forces subdued by the War God and Maliksi trying to recover from the hit he had taken from Talagbusao, the Tikbalang prince seemed to take notice that his spouse was nowhere in sight and panic seemed to take a hold on him like a choke-hold. Standing up, he began to look for them, ruby-red eyes rapidly scanning the area, furiously looking for his beloved, silently praying to Bathala that they were okay or let alone still be alive.

His prayers seemed to be answered when he saw them, still kicking and fighting and running to where Talagbusao was and he immediately knew something was wrong. “(Y/N)!! ANONG GINAGAWA MO!?” Maliksi yelled out through the sound of roaring bullets, trying his best to reach over to where their lover was.  “Alexandra, ngayon na!” Maliksi heard (Y/N)’s commanding voice ring out as she caught the Babylan-Mandirigma’s knife, Sinag throwing it to her while they subdued Talagbusao to the best of their abilities, eyes locked with their husband as they mouthed at him, ‘Patawarin mo ako, Maliksi.’ And as quick as a flash, Alexandra, Talagbusao, and (Y/N) disappeared into the Dragon’s Gate. Maliksi was left to watch his spouse in paralyzed horror and shock disappear right before his eyes, chest clenching in panic as the impact of the closing portal sent everyone nearby it flying backward.

_____________________

A month has then passed after that event and we see Maliksi within the Trese household as he would always do, always waiting, hoping, and praying that his (Y/N) would return to him safe and unharmed. This day was different than the other days he would spend at the household because this day was the day that Alexandra Trese had returned as announced by a pale-looking and wide-eyed Hank. The tikbalang prince was the first to head where Alexandra---who was now swarmed by her older brothers and the kambal, his eyes still searching for his spouse, his expression of hope immediately diminished as he spoke, his voice slowly trembling with each step he took, “Nasaan si (Y/N), Alexandra?”  at the mention of his spouse’s name, Alexandra then refused to meet his eyes as the rest of the Trese siblings along with the Kambal clearing a path for him, all watching him with disconsolate looks and glistening eyes as Alexandra held onto Sinag as tightly as she could, trying her best to find the right words to say to him.

“Wala na si, (Y/N), Maliksi. She’s gone.”

_________________________

“There is a story, of a man who had lost his beloved in a war, some say he still waits for their return, others say that the day his beloved had disappeared, he had soon followed.” 

“They say that this man could be found standing by the tall windows of Tower A [1] located in Ayala Avenue. Urban myths suggest that this man is a ghost bound to the building, others say that he’s the reason why that Tower still exists.” Now in his prime, Maliksi sat in the place where his father used to sit. It had been years since he had taken over the clan and years since his beloved, (Y/N) was taken away from him at such an early age. Beside him was an empty throne reserved for them once they return. No matter how many years it would take him, Maliksi Armanaz, former prince and now leader of the Armanaz clan, would still wait for his beloved, (Y/N) to return to him until the end of his days. He would wait for them for evermore.   

[norarigby]

フェア関西のルームメイト二名 (The Two Roommates from Fair Kansai)

Chapter 2: The Typo

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Description: In which while typing a roommate ad online, the famed Miya Atsumu, (23) MSBY Jackals Setter, makes a detrimental typo that leads to an influx of women applicants. Confused, but not completely opposed (the idiot), Miya Atsumu lands on a formidable candidate. Y/n L/n. A Biotechnology major at Kansai University, looking for a change after her last disastrous roommates and some space from a particular complication. It’s odd, but it’ll work. Maybe a little too well.

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x Reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: ~1.4k

A/n: Cross posted from my AO3. I update there first, so if you want the chapters sooner, check it out!

To say Atsumu was overwhelmed would be an understatement. When one of the athletic directors approached him saying how his phone kept going off in the locker room, he was concerned something was seriously wrong. As a precaution, they assure him that if it was an emergency that he should feel free to take the day. But upon closer inspection, he quickly realized that wouldn’t be necessary. He scrolled through what seemed like pages of messages and missed calls about the ad. And not just any inquiries, but…

“ALL WOMEN!” Atsumu exclaimed loudly in the busy shop. A few annoyed heads turned to the source of the outburst.

Osamu rolled his eyes, “‘Tsumu, we talked about this. Having you come during busy hours is already enough of a nuisance, but could you keep it down? This is still a public place.”

“But ‘Samu! What am I going to do?” Atsumu whisper-shouted like it would help his outburst, but it still elicited a few head turns, “I already didn’t want to room with a stranger! And now all of the applicants are girls? This has to be some sort of joke.”

Osamu helped with the line and handed out a few orders to customers before focusing some energy on his dramatic brother. “Well, did you specify that you were only looking for male roommate?”

Atsumu picked at the stray rice grains on his plate as he tried to remember what he wrote. He couldn’t remember specifying anything about the roommate themselves; focusing mainly on the apartment itself. He voiced his thoughts to his brother.

“Hmm, well Atsumu can be a girl's name. Maybe that’s why?”

He tried not to be offended at his brother’s comment, mainly because he was partially right. It’s possible that they’re assuming he’s a girl. But that doesn’t make entire sense either. Is it possible his fan club found the posting? That seemed pretty possible. Atsumu knew fangirls could get crazy when they wanted to be.

Osamu finished some things behind the bar and went over to sit by Atsumu. The two contemplated his conundrum over a fresh plate of onigiri. After Osamu’s second, he spoke up, “Just for science, can I see your ad?”

Atsumu gave him an incredulous look, but pulled up the ad anyway, “I mean, sure, but I don’t think-”

At Atsumu’s sudden silence, Osamu’s curiosity was piqued, “”Tsumu? Everything okay?”

Wordlessly he handed the phone over and Osamu read through the ad. Immediately after reading, he burst into laughter.

“‘Samu! This isn’t funny!”

But Osamu was laughing so hard he couldn’t even speak. Some of his employees turned out of concern and curiosity at their boss’ sudden burst. Eventually, he calmed down enough to choke out a “you are in some trouble, ‘Tsumu”.

Roommate Wanted.

Master Bedroom available with a private bath in a 100 sq m apartment in Osaka. In-unit wash, AC, dishwasher, internet, etc. Fully furnished (besides bedroom available). Rent with utilities is 62784¥. Near public transportation. Feel free to contact with questions or offers.

06-XXXX-XXXX

Text/Call

Miya Atsumi

--

“Alright, that wraps it up for today. Finish the calculations on your own time and be sure to bring back your completed form by next class. See you Tuesday!”

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor harmonized with the zipping and unzipping of backpacks as the classroom got up to leave. Y/n pulled out her phone to finally check her messages.

From: Mom

Found a listing in Osaka that looks interesting. Good apartment with really good pricing. You should give them a call.

(link)

Y/n typed a quick thank you before clicking on the link. Her mom was right. It looked like a decent location and a not too bad price. Trying to look for any information on the roommate (roommates?), all she could see was a number and a name at the bottom of the ad. What a strange listing. It was probably the shortest listing she’d ever come across--and definitely the most to the point.

Y/n sat and stared at the listing for a little bit while weighing her options. She just got out of an interesting situation in Suita, but she was now living with her parents. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but both her and her parents weren’t exactly jumping at the idea of her moving back in, especially with her graduating college next year.

Making up her mind, she copied the number and sent a quick text to the number on the ad. A silent prayer was sent to whoever was listening. This wouldn’t fix all of her problems, but this would solve a big one and she swore she would be able to handle the rest.

--

“And you told me I was loud,” Now Atsumu was getting antsy about the amount of people staring at his hysteric brother. “”Samu, you need to calm down.”

This had been going on for at least ten minutes now. Osamu would read through the ad, get sent into a fit of laughter, finally calm down, but then would read it again and the cycle would start all over again. Not used to being the responsible twin, in addition to being extremely embarrassed by his brother’s reaction to his typo, Atsumu was at a loss for what to do. He tried sending reassuring smiles to patrons and mumbled some apologies, but that was the extent of his capabilities.

Finally, Osamu calmed down and pushed Atsumu’s phone back to him. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Osamu tried to console his brother, “Hey, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing. Surely, there’s at least one of those girls that you could at least be civil with.”

Atsumu scrolled through his messages again, exacerbated, “Even if that’s true! There’s too many! I don’t really have the time to sit and go through all of these.”

There were at least 100 people who had responded to his ad and where the messages definitely weren’t flooding in as much as they had earlier that day, he would get a notification about once every 15-20 minutes. By the time he got through the original applicants, there would be another 100-200 to take their place. In between practice and conditioning, there was no way Atsumu was going to be able to get through these all by himself.

“Tell you what,” Osamu leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, “Since this was partially my idea, I’ll help you tonight after I close up. And if we can’t find anyone, I’ll help you write up a better listing and we can delete this one.”

Atsumu’s other issue with all of these applicants is that he really didn’t want to spend energy looking through dozens of descriptions and deciding if he would like them or not. He assumed it would be like the dating app he had for a couple weeks, but worse. Atsumu really didn’t like the idea of judging someone based on a single paragraph they wrote about themselves. He preferred a more personal approach. Like with the various spikers and teammates he’d played with over the years, he was really good at reading people in person. Within a short conversation, he could pretty accurately lay out a person’s personality (what things they might like, what might make them tick, what things they were indifferent to). Over the internet it was much more difficult.

He guessed he could always ask them to meet in person, right? That was something people did. They could meet at his brother’s restaurant so then Osamu could get a feel for the other person. Atsumu figured it would also get one glaring issue out of the way: he was a guy.

It was a fool proof plan. Osamu and him would sort through the applicants tonight and he would invite them to meet him in person. This way he can see if it’s going to work or not and if they aren’t comfortable with rooming with a guy they can just leave. Genius!

Atsumu recounted his plan to his brother and Osamu was in agreement. With that, the blonde brother left to go to afternoon conditioning, planning on returning just before close to sneak in a few more onigiri from his brother before the long haul.

[ofhouseadama]

could I dm you this? yes. but also asks are fun even though this question is mean so. how do Ed and Lorraine react to the Vietnam war?

Okay so my Ed and Lorraine are absolutely Kennedy Democrats, are both very excited and enthusiastic about the first Catholic president, but both are against the Vietnam War and US military intervention from the start. Ed's already fought in one imperialist proxy war, he's got the PTSD to prove it, and Lorraine just is truly repulsed by violence of any kind.

And also like, to go completely left field for a minute -- I've been thinking a lot about how teenage Lored were effectively trapped at 17-19 years old. Mostly financially, and in different ways. in 1951, Lorraine wouldn't have been able to have her own bank account. Women wouldn't have the right to open their own bank account until the 60s or have a credit card until the 70s -- her money would have been her father's, effectively. and while probably not maliciously, since she was a young woman she likely wouldn't have had much access to her pay checks unless she was cashing them directly. Ed, meanwhile, while trying to survive a negligent/abusive household, absolutely would have been spending money on things most teens wouldn't have to in order to survive... and that's before getting the draft notice from the Selective Service, which took away even more control of his own life.

So I see Ed and Lorraine getting married young (even for the 50s, they're a few years younger than the median, though the war was actively driving that age down) mostly out of making the most out of what they could together. Ed putting Lorraine on his bank accounts and asking her actively to manage them while he's away, and her depositing her paychecks into his account would give her more financial control in her life than most women of the era. Lorraine's engagement ring (the size of that goddamn rock) is even an insurance policy most women her age and demographic didn't have -- often when women fled marriages, it was only with their jewelry to sell. It's half about Ed's possessive streak, half him showing he's not afraid to give her the money to run, if she needed to.

Anyway -- the trauma of their late teens and early twenties is entirely rooted in the rising Cold War anxieties and the locus of harm done to women in the 50s and I fully see their pursuit of demonology and the supernatural as something Lorraine initially started while working as a secretary for the Diocese, something she did to stay late at work and help people she could physically reach while Ed was away at war. She initially started staying late on the days she knew Father Gordon would be bringing in a scared family or terrified couple or frightened soul in through the back door hours after everyone had left, staying to pray and keep herself nearby, to be an observer to a fight she could be party to. Father Gordon figures her out quickly, of course, asking what interest she has in demons and exorcisms, and figures out she's clever with records and archives, almost to an uncanny degree.

And then figures out to exactly what uncanny degree.

After Ed came home and became the husband instead of the boyfriend, it turned into something Ed could throw all his metaphorical demons onto and a healthy way to exercise his control issues and fear and anxiety that doesn't (generally) affect Lorraine because she's fighting with him side by side in this, when before they were separated by thousands of miles -- the beginning everyone's favorite Catholic battle couple very much rooted in Ed and Lorraine parsing out who brought home metaphorical demons from the war, and who brought home literal ones, and bringing them to Father Gordon when necessary. Rooted in Ed needing to be useful, to dusting off his Catholic school Latin and reading everything he could get his hands on so that he could continue to help, continue to fight.

Lorraine would have been pregnant with Judy during the heightening tensions with Cuba and as Kennedy is sending more and more military "advisors" to Vietnam and Cold War tensions flared the hottest they'd get in the 1960s and I can just see both of their control issues revving up, especially with a few-months-old baby in the mix. Just the two of them laying bed, looking down at their three month old baby girl, wondering if they'd all get nuked tomorrow. If war would be declared tomorrow. If they'd all be dead, if they brought her into the world just to die violently. It's like taking guns off the street. They can't control the White House, or the Soviets, or Cuba or China or or or -- but they know about demons, they know about spirits, they know about taking these bombs off the battlefield, in the war of good against evil, and this is a war they can be foot soldiers in together.

Lorraine would get a bit of relief in the March of '63 when Kennedy dropped married men with children to the bottom of the draft pool, and then dropped the age of the draft pool to 26, aging Ed out of the Selective Service entirely. And then in November, JFK would be assassinated, and the photo of Jackie Kennedy covered in blood, leaving the hospital hand-in-hand with RFK, would be on the front page of every newspaper in the country. It would be a jolt for both of them -- but it wouldn't fully hit Lorraine until seven years later, when she'd have her first vision of Ed's death and fully understand Jackie Kennedy's weary, "I want them to see what they have done to Jack."

After the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution in August of 1964, they fully throw themselves into taking cases almost full time. As the war heats up, Ed pulls back from teaching art classes at the VA. If he spends too much time there, he has to face how pointless the violence has been. If he spends too much time there, now, he has to face that he still doesn't know why he survived. Why he lived, and everyone else on board the ship with him died. Because he still doesn't know, he still is fighting to make his life matter in a way that makes sense to him. All he has is his sense of duty, a couple of college credits, and his hands. On good days, he knows that he's loved -- that Lorraine loves him so much it makes it hurt to breathe, that he's a good father to his daughter, who will never be afraid of him.

Ed has a complete PTSD relapse in 1966, with the beginning of the ground war and the full-throated resurgence of the American propaganda machine and military recruitment. He's back in the guilt spiral, the "I never had it that bad, I was only in the Navy for two years, I never had it that bad," just feeding into "why did I live when everyone else I fought with died," back and forth until he can't sleep, can only sleep when Judy sleeps, accidentally ends up adapting himself to her nap schedule and has to sleep with his hand on her chest, feeling her breathe.

Lorraine calls in Chief, after Ed can't get out of bed for 72 hours and misses mass for the first time in his life. Chief, who comes up from Brooklyn to remind Ed of the time their entire ship exploded and Ed treaded water for eight hours and everyone else died. How they spent the next six months getting drunk whenever they weren't on duty and picking fights they couldn't get out of, and that one time they got thrown in the brig because Chief struck a superior asshole and Ed just followed him into the fight. (No, Lorraine does not know about that time Ed and Chief ended up in the brig. She will never know about that time. Judy will at some point in her early 20s learn about that time, when she needs to learn about how her parents are people, who have absolutely made mistakes in their lives.) "You and I spent six months drunk," Chief says, bouncing Judy on his knee in the kitchen over a cup of coffee, Ed refusing to look at him as he deep cleans the stove. "And then your dad died, and your sainted wife handled everything for you, and we realized we couldn't send you home to her like that."

"I still don't know why I lived."

Chief shrugs. "It doesn't matter why, son. The same reason any of us live, and any of us die. It doesn't matter. You have a little girl now who depends on you. She matters more than any goddamn reason -- you live for her, and your saint of a wife, and for all the people that you help. So that you can look them in the face, say you've been down in the hole that they're in now, and you know the way out."

Lorraine calls in Chief, because she absolutely picked a fight after mass that day without Ed, with Judy on her hip. Overheard Dorothy O'Malley running her mouth in the pew in front of her sounding like a national security ghoul and didn't even think before she opened her mouth and unloading the full force of her anxiety and anger on her. Only stops because she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder and Father Gordon murmuring in her ear, "Okay Mrs. Warren, you've made your point," while leading her away. It's the "Mrs. Warren" instead of the familiar "Lorraine" that jolts her back to herself, kissing Judy's head as she tries to shake herself out of it.

"Thank you," she tells Father Gordon, defeated.

He shrugs. "You don't come to confession until before Friday night prayer service. I didn't want you stewing on this all week." Pausing, he takes a moment to fondly tug on one of Judy's pig tails, making her laugh. "If Ed's not... feeling well, I know about that."

Lorraine bites her lip, knowing full and well that Father Gordon served as a chaplain in World War II. That seeing the violence of the Nazis firsthand is what convinced him that the Devil was more than a metaphor, that evil truly walked the Earth. Sent him on his own path, chasing darkness.

Lorraine nods.

"I could talk to him," Father Gordon says. "But it would likely come better from someone he served with."

When she gets home, she finds Chief's number in their phone book, and calls Brooklyn for the first and last time. He comes up the next day, and shoos her out of the house to do something for herself for the first time in months, telling her that he's more than equipped to look after a single three year old.

Ed goes back to teaching at the VA a few months after that, teaching art to the new round of mentally scarred children returning from war. He concedes to group therapy, and a few sessions with the VA psychiatrist to get something to take the edge off. He teaches at the VA until the troop withdrawals in 1970, reducing his class load as he and Lorraine take on more and more cases -- verging towards a hundred a year -- for the Catholic Church, and the media attention that comes along with that, the publicity engagements that help keep their bills paid, the articles and academic talks.

Even still, Ed occasionally brings home someone for dinner, just to make sure that they've only brought metaphorical demons home from war with them, not literal ones.

Sometimes it's literal ones.

[a-queer-seminarian]

Hello, you seem to be knowledgeable about god. Do you know where to find him and what his weaknesses are? I have dedicated my life to hunting him down and killing him for the indescribable amount of suffering he has directly or indirectly caused.

cw: violent language, including about fighting / killing God; as well as discussion of the Shoah / Holocaust later on in the post

(gonna start this long-ass response by saying that yes, i know this anon is probably joking about dedicating their life to hunting down God, but i’m gonna answer it like they’re serious because that’s the kind of person i am haha)

honestly anon, all power to ya! it sounds like my own understanding of God is quite different from yours (for instance, i would claim that God’s main weakness is actually Their best strength, which is compassion and steadfast solidarity) -- but the question of why God allows suffering is one i come back to all the damn time.

if you do track God down -- if God turns out to be a Being that can be tracked down to one location and time -- please do deliver my regards and my sincerest “WTF??”

you’re not the first to demand God answer for the suffering that’s happened on Their watch --

for if God is truly omnipotent, and truly all-loving, why don’t they do something about all this pain??? Indeed, the Bible is rich with similar demands -- from the psalmists to Job to Jesus himself from the cross (quoting a psalm, he cries, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me??”).

You might already know all this, but if not, the question of God’s place in suffering is often referred to as theodicy, at least in Christian circles.

That term comes from the Greek for god + justice, so what it literally means is “justifying (or vindicating) God”....which I’m not a huge fan of, because it implies that when we explore this question of where God is in suffering, we already know the result will be that God will be proven innocent (or at least “not guilty”).

But do we know that?? See the bottom of this post for an example of a time people of great faith found God guilty!

Anyway, theodicy describes intellectual efforts “to jerry-rig three mutually exclusive terms into harmony: divine power, goodness, and the experiences of evil.“ - Wendy Farley

If you want to learn more about theodicy and the way some theologians have “made sense” of suffering, check out this introductory post I’ve got.

Or wander through my whole #theodicy tag over on my other blog.

I invite you to explore theodicy not in any attempt to convince you of anything, but so you know some of the arguments you’re up against! Honestly, the more i explore theodicy, the less satisfied i am with any justifications for why God doesn’t intervene in the face of so much suffering...so if you do the reading and still conclude God is guilty, i’m not gonna tell you you’re definitely wrong.

Anyway. Like i said, you’re not alone in wanting answers for why God -- however, i don’t know that i’ve seen anyone else with your determination to find and kill God!

(Except, and i hate that i know this lol, that’s apparently the plot of the final season of Supernatural -- they find out God’s a total ass who not only is guilty of negligence but also directly responsible for a lot of suffering for his own sadistic enjoyment. so. they kill the bastard.)

Still, while i don’t know that i’ve seen too many people who want to take God out, the idea of wrestling God is pervasive -- especially within Judaism, but also among some Christians.

i’m very into wrestling God, myself, finding it far more faithful to the God who gifted us free will and invites us into true, mutual relationship than unquestioning obedience.

i have a whole #wrestling God tag over on my other blog.

For the most intense example of wrestling with God i’ve yet seen, with God put on trial and found guilty, keep reading.

_________

cw: discussion of the Shoah / Holocaust below

You might connect to Elie Wiesel’s play The Trial of God, or the movie that was made based off it. Wiesel survived Nazi concentration camps but ceased to believe in God after what he suffered. His play was inspired by something he witnessed while a teen at Auschwitz:

"I witnessed a strange trial. Three rabbis—all erudite and pious men—decided one winter evening to indict God for allowing his children to be massacred. I remember: I was there, and I felt like crying. But nobody cried."

Robert McAfee Brown wrote more about this trial Wiesel witnessed:

“The trial lasted several nights. Witnesses were heard, evidence was gathered, conclusions were drawn, all of which issued finally in a unanimous verdict: the Lord God Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth, was found guilty of crimes against creation and humankind.”

Note that in 2008 when commenting on this event, Wiesel clarified that “At the end of the trial, they used the word chayav, rather than ‘guilty.’ It means ‘He owes us something.’”

In the chapter “No God, Only Auschwitz” of his book Embracing Hopelessness, Miguel A. De La Torre comments on this verdict by explaining that if God wasn’t going to intervene, then God must at the least speak -- but instead, God was silent:

“God must be held accountable for refusing to speak to those yearning for God’s voice. Something. Anything. A note of solidarity. A testament of love, accompaniment. But they hear and receive nothing. The trial...ends with God owing us something.

De La Torre goes on to describe the play Wiesel wrote based on this memory, which actually takes place in a 1649 Ukranian village, rather than at Auschwitz. The Cossacks raid the village and kill all but two of its Jewish residents.

“In Wiesel’s play, he has the inkeeper Berish voice the same questions those sitting in death camps centuries later asked, if not audibly, then silently:

‘To mention God’s mercy in Shamgorod [Auschwitz] is an insult. Speak of his cruelty instead. ...I want to understand why. He is giving strength to the killers and nothing but tears and the shame of helplessness to the victims. ...Either he is responsible or He is not. If He is, let’s judge him; if He is not, let him stop judging us. ...

‘[I] accuse Him of hostility, cruelty and indifference. ...Either He knows what’s happening to us, or He doesn’t wish to know! In both cases He is...guilty! Would a father stand by, quietly, silently, and watch his children being slaughtered?’”

De La Torre continues with his own thoughts on all this:

“The horrors humanity faces indict God as being less loving and attentive than sinful parents. I hesitate to make any pronouncements as to the character of God because in the final analysis, I lack any empirical knowledge upon which to base my study. Still with all my heart and being I want to say: my God is the God of the oppressed who incarnates Godself among the least of these.

I want to make this bold claim based on the testimony of the gospel witness. But in the midst of the dark night, I confess this hopeful belief is at best a tenet accepted by faith, lacking any means of proving the truth or falsehood of the claim. In the shadow of Auschwitz, though I am not Jewish, nonetheless I am left wondering if the precious Deity who notices the fall of a sparrow is blind to God’s children crushed in the winepress. Do I dare wonder if God is the God of the oppressors?

...Or maybe this is a God who really wants to do good, but lacks the power to do anything in the face of inhumanity. ..."

There’s one more piece to this tale of Wiesel’s witness of the trial of God at Auschwitz. And that is that, after declaring God guilty (or chayav)...

...after what Wiesel describes as an "infinity of silence", the Talmudic scholar looked at the sky and said "It's time for evening prayers", and the members of the tribunal recited Maariv, the evening service. (McAfee Brown)

...That ending is the part that astounds and awes me. These Jewish prisoners at Auschwitz find God guilty -- and then proceed to pray as they always do. I am reminded of what my Jewish friends as well as various Jewish scholars have told me: that Judaism is totally compatible with wrestling with God and even with disbelief. Whether these Jewish prisoners believed God even existed, they prayed -- because that tradition of prayer is what unites them to one another, to their people.

As De La Torre closes his telling of Wiesel’s story,

“At the conclusion of the movie God on Trial, based on the events Wiesel described, shortly after the barrack inmates find God guilty, and those chosen are marched to the gas chamber, they cover their heads and pray. ...

Believers and unbelievers who took the audacious act of placing God on trial do what is totally illogical -- in the midst of their hopelessness they demonstrate their faith as they march toward the gas chambers, or they defiantly embrace who they are while still remaining in heated conversation, damning God. It matters not if God still hears their prayers, or if there even is a God to hear; they still pray, they still debate -- not for God’s sake, but for their own.”

And that brings me to the one bit of actual advice I’ll give you, anon:

If you want to spend your life “hunting God down,” as I said, all power to you! But I do suggest you ponder for whose sake you do so -- and whether you do so for justice or just revenge. What good does such a quest do for those who are suffering now? Are their other paths you could follow that would bring more good? What about your own healing? I imagine you’re not interested in repairing any relationship with religion -- would walking away from God rather than hounding God be a more healing and fruitful path for your finite life?

I’ll close with one more quote from De La Torre, from the very end of his chapter:

“As I stroll through what was once the concentration camp of Dachau, I am cognizant that this space witnessed the unspeakable horrors that befell God’s children at the hands of Christians hoping for a better, purer society and future. ...So do not offer me your words of hope; offer me your praxis for justice. ...In the midst of unfathomable suffering, the earth’s marginalized no longer need pious pontifications about rewards in some hereafter. Nor do they need their oppressors providing the answers for their salvation. What is needed is disruption of the norm to push humanity toward an unachievable justice.

When there is nothing to lose, when work does not set you free, not only are multiple possibilities opened up with new opportunities for radical change unimaginable to those playing it safe; but also a venue is provided by which to get real with whatever this God signifies. ...”

[thesweetestkimberry]

(icy) hot chocolate

pairings: shoto todoroki x reader

summary: not only are you homesick, but you’ve also harbored feelings for the icy hot student in your class.

warnings: might be a curse?, ooc, doesn’t make sense, mentons of selena and chocolate de la abuelita 🤷🏽‍♀️

notes: pls have mercy, it was like,, 2 am, this one hops around and i might take it down,, but enjoy anyway !

『° 。✰˚⋆☾⋆。✰°』

after you’d finished your homework, or what you wanted to finish, you were left feeling a bit disheartened. your family sent you to this school in hopes of you being able to master and better your quirk, even going so far as to give you the opportunity to become a world renowned hero.

so after saying your goodbyes to your friends and family, you were on your way to japan.

the transition was slightly difficult, especially considering the amount of culture shock. the manners and daily life was so different from what you were used to, however it was helpful to have a few staff and students speak english to aid you.

Aizawa knew a bit of english, mostly due to being friends with present mic. all might spoke english as well, along with some students who were able to hold conversations with you in said language. momo and todoroki were the ones you mostly conversed with, momo was nice enough to help you in classes and in anything you had difficulty understanding.

you only knew shoto spoke english when he asked you a question one day during lunch. a non important one, but it sounded fluent enough, only responding with how his father put him and his siblings through private education during their younger years. apparently that’s where he began to learn the language.

you’d gotten along with the class pretty well, your personality allowing for a little bit of everyone to want to befriend you. despite all that, something drew you to the dual quirk user. was it his looks? his quiet nature? maybe his obliviousness that you sometimes found endearing.

it wasn’t long before the girls were able to tell that you’d been less than sneakily about eyeing him.

“you like him!” mina shouted one day at lunch, your hand slapping over her mouth to quiet her, the outburst earning a few confused glances from your other classmates.

“ooo (y/n)’s got a crush?” kaminari teasingly asks, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close, “let go of her dipshit!” sero scolds, reaching over to yank his friends arm off you. you send him a grateful look, only to have it turn into one of disgust.

“did you just lick my hand!?” you shout, furiously wiping it on mina’s uniform, watching her laugh.

“but seriously (y/n), you can’t hide it from me!” she said in a sing-song voice, poking a finger at your chin and using it to turn your head to where todoroki was sitting, next to iida and midoriya.

“no way! you have a thing for todoroki?” denki announced, you and sero smacking him to shut him up.

your breath hitched when you turned to check if shoto had heard you, only to see his mismatched colored eyes staring right back at you.

you squeaked and ducked your head, covering your face with your arms, suddenly wishing someone’s quirk could just make you disappear.

with a few muttered apologies from denki, lunch had ended, and back to class you all went. you hoped and prayed you didn’t have to interact with shoto anytime soon.

as if the ancient deities of the past answered your prayers, you didn’t have to be in close quarters with him until classes ended, meaning you’d all be going back to the dorms.

forgoing dinner, you sat in your room, embarrassed.

“oh god, i bet he thinks i’m fucking weird.” you groan, flopping down onto your bed you palm your eyes. the sensation causing bursts of light to seemingly appear behind your closed lids. adding onto your embarrassment, you’d become upset, resulting in wondering about how things could be different back home.

of course this trivial little mishap didn’t deter you from wanting to attend UA, but it did make you wish you had advice from your friends and family back home. finding yourself missing them, you checked the time, realize it’s midnight. way past curfew.

you also realize that you’re craving something sweet. walking over to your little pantry, you pulled out a familiar pack of hot chocolate.

making your way quietly and carefully out your room, you hopped into the elevator and made your way down.

unbeknownst to you, someone had crept out of their room and pressed the button for the elevator, bringing it back up as you exited, walking to the kitchen.

you hummed to yourself, a familiar tune of a cumbia by a famous singer from your parents’ time.

pointing yourself some milk in a pot, you unwrapped the brick of a chocolate, savoring the smell. you broke the chocolate along it’s grooves, about to add in enough for you, only for a cough to draw your attention.

your head shot up at the sound, your voice caught in your throat at the boy who stared back at you

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to disturb you.” he says slowly walking up to where you were, “todoroki!” you exclaim in surprise.

“what are you doing up? i didn’t wake you up did it?” you ask him, worried you had disturbed his rest with your noise.

“don’t be silly. i already happened to be awake, i also heard you humming, what was it?” he asks, finally making his way next to you, so close that your shoulders were almost brushing, “oh! it’s called dreaming of you.” you inform him, dropping in the chinch of chocolate into the now warm milks

“want some?” you ask, gesturing to the pot you were stirring. “what is it?” he questions, leaning down and catching a whiff of the mixture, “it’s hot chocolate.” you respond.

“hot chocolate? it’s a beverage correct?” he asks, the question making you look up in surprise.

“yeah, it is. but why do you say it like you’ve never tried it.” you joke, waiting for a laugh or smile, only to receive a blank look.

“oh my god! you’re trying some.” you say definitely, watching his brows shoot up, “are you sure? i wouldn’t want to be a bother.” he says with a pink tint to his cheeks that you don’t seem to notice,

“just give me a few minutes and it’ll be ready.” you say adding in an extra chunk of chocolate for shoto, mixing it in and watching the milk turn a darker shade of brown.

“my grandmother used to make this for me all the time,” you share, watching how he stared at you intently, “she even used to add cinnamon.” you continue, making sure the chocolate has melted completely before turning off the stove.

before you could move, shoto beat you to the cabinet where he retrieved two mugs, yours and his.

shortly after moving into the dorms, the whole class had gone out to the mall in search of things that would make the dorms more homey, and to avoid any confusion, you all decided to get individual mugs.

yours was shaped like a frog, whereas shoto’s was a red and white striped mug, for obvious reasons.

serving the hot drink, you carefully handed shoto his. as he took the mug, your fingers brushed gently against one another, the feeling shooting a warm feeling throughout both your bodies.

the two of you quickly part, blushing and turning away from one another.

“careful, it’s hot.” you warn, although feeling stupid because of his quirk, “i can cool it down.” he says simply, placing the mug in his right hand.

“i... i overheard denki say something during lunch.” he said after a brief pause, your body freezing and nearly dropping the mug in your hands. quickly setting it down, you bowed your head, afraid to meet his eyes.

“i’m sorry about that, you must think i’m weird.” you apologize, still not meeting his gaze, unaware of how soft it fell on you.

“no not at all.” came his response, his answer shocking you. “in fact,” he says, setting down his mug, “i’m glad you feel the same way.”

his words made you nearly jump out in joy, your heart screaming and face flushing.

“feel the same way?..” you ask, slightly disbelieving his words, “yes, about having feelings for you. i have for quite a bit now.” he admits, a pink blush looking beautiful on his skin.

“todoroki i,” “shoto, please.” he cuts you off, “shoto... i-i feel the same way, although you already knew that.” you groan, a blush taking over your features as well.

“would it be alright of me to ask if you’d like to join me for an evening out?” he says shyly looking at you, his eyes darting between you and your mugs on the counter.

“are you asking me on a date?” you confirm, watching as he nods before standing straight and looking into your eyes, “yes.” was all he could say, a faint flame lighting up in his hair and on his shoulder.

“of course,” you answer, watching his face light up, his eyes showing how truly happy he was, even is his mouth only showed the hint of a smile.

“but you have to try the hot chocolate or else i’m not going.” you tease, watching him scramble to retrieve his mug, “calm down,” you giggle, “i’m only joking.”

he stares at you, a faint smile still on his lips, “well, here’s to us.” he toasts quietly, tapping your mug with his before raising it to his lips, taking a sip.

you gouged for his reactions smiling wide into your mug when you saw his eyes widen, “this is delicious.” he says looking at you, holding the drink close to his chest, “i’m glad you enjoy it, it’s mostly a comfort drink for me.” you say taking a few sips of your own.

“thank you for allowing me to share this drink with you.” he says gently nudging your shoulder with his, the action surprising you.

“thank you for reciprocating my feelings.” you say, daring to rest your head against his shoulder, considering he was slightly taller than you were.

“how could i not? you’re everything.”