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andrewuttaro · 2 months ago

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What the Holy Rosary tells us about worshipping God

Honesty is the best policy. To be very honest: I felt like the Holy Rosary was something only Grandmas do until I was a full-blown adult. My grandma prayed the Rosary, but my family was only anecdotally religious growing up, so the practice was never something I learned in any great depth. That is not to mention even as a child I realized it required a level of repetition, and therefore focus, which I would scarcely possess until adulthood.

Something changed in college as I went on service trips and retreats. While I had also done both those things in my High School Youth Ministry there was a whole different vibe to that in college. In college everyone is there by their own free will, no parents dropped them off threateningly, at worst someone was dragged on retreat by a friend. But there was more to it than that. Some of these trips exposed me to religious for the first time, that is Nuns, Monks, and even an odd oblate here or there.

To be exposed to people who prayed as if it wasn’t a chore allowed me to move outside my previous, very exclusively conversational way of praying. Conversational prayer isn’t inferior, I still do that daily as well, but rote, that is recited or scripted prayer, hit me differently as a college student. Allow me to be frank: I had now realized my very hyperactive, autistic brain, had found a use for repetitive prayer. The “calming of the monkey mind” as the Buddha put it.

Seventy years ago the Rosary was the undisputed centerpiece of Catholic devotional life. This was in no small part because Catholics did not have the Mass in their native languages before the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965). That meant that if you wanted to be pious or feel closer to God at Mass before communion then you probably wanted to have some kind of prayer routine. That generation had the Rosary at the center of their devotional life as a result. My own grandmother gave me her mother’s Rosary which dates back to this period (forgive me for showing it off in the thumbnail). October has the Rosary as its monthly Catholic devotion.

Perhaps such a widely known devotion, easily still the most recognizable, distinctly Catholic devotion in our culture, needs a month of focus just to remember what it’s all about. I say that because even when I first picked up praying the rosary in college it didn’t stick, and I have never approached daily rosary reciting like the hardcore folks do. Nonetheless the practice has grown on me more than anything else in the intervening years.

The Rosary is so rich in the mystery of the faith that it reorients you to what faith is in the first place and why we worship the God we do at all. Put another way, the Rosary tells us something about how we ought to worship God. Yes, on the surface its repetition does wonders for the hyperactive mind; but the deeper you go the more you encounter the life-giving stuff the story of our faith is made of. Mystery is one word to use for this, the word that I think gets the point across better in English is peace. Just as mystery is an opportunity for faith, so too is the Rosary an opportunity for deep, spiritual peace.

A brief history of praying unceasingly

Long before anyone knew what a Rosary is there was the fundamental Christian call to “pray without ceasing” (1st Thessalonians 5:17). Echoing the practice of Jesus who frequently both prayed communally with his apostles and privately when he withdrew from them; this is taken as something of a command of the New Testament if not an overarching theme of the whole bible for a holy life (Catechism of the Catholic Church 2742-2745). How this call to unceasing prayer has been answered is an interesting prism through which to view the history of the Church.

You could say prayer was the unceasing practice of the Church as early as the first Christian communities in the book of Acts who persisted in breaking bread and praying together (Acts 2:42). The breaking of the bread was the Mass, and the praying together certainly involved rote prayers in addition to conversational prayer. These practices undoubtedly involved recounting their articles of faith in Jesus Christ and making petitions and intercessions in prayer. While further systematization would come, prayer was this constant practice of faithful Christians from the start.

The great third century scholar Origen equated the fundamental call of prayer to action when he wrote: “He ‘prays without ceasing’ who unites prayer to works and good works to prayer. Only in this way can we consider as realizable the principle of praying without ceasing.” As monasticism developed, first in the Near East and later in Western Europe, the call was answered with the classic eight fixed times a day when psalms, scriptures and other prayers were recited. The formalization of the Canonical Hours, better known as the Liturgy of the Hours or simply the Breviary today, occurred sometime in the early middle ages.

Think of the breviary as a daily devotional book with a little bit of everything prayed multiple times daily. This would be, theoretically at least, the constant prayer of the whole Church for a time. But the Church is a big place with a lot of different people and vocations.

By the sixteenth century revisions to the breviary were needed. As with the Mass and other liturgies, clerics will tell you many rote devotions grab onto the regular prayers of the church like barnacles onto the hull of a ship. Things had gotten unwieldly. Many priests, those who are mandated by their ordination to pray the Breviary, had fallen out of the practice which had long been their answer to the fundamental call. Though the Council of Trent successfully reformed the breviary to the point it was not changed significantly again until the 1960s, there were other prayer practices that were growing throughout the history of the Church.

Call it the Holy Spirit, there were always common ways to pray unceasingly. The Breviary had long been inaccessible to the illiterate masses. Knotted prayer ropes date back to the first centuries of the faith. The monks of the east, also known as the Desert Fathers, would use them to keep track of praying the 150 Psalms or just the Jesus Prayer (More on that gem later). Such rote, repetitive prayer styles evolved and changed based on who was praying them where and for what purpose. By the thirteenth century there existed a folk practice of praying 50-150 Ave Marias (AKA Hail Marys). It was here when St. Dominic comes into the picture.

In the year 1208, Dominic was praying and experienced a vision of the Blessed Virgin Mary as the story goes. In this vision Dominic is given the Holy Rosary as a way to pray the central mysteries of the life of Jesus Christ as if with Mary herself. We Catholics see Mary as the central figure of the Communion of Saints which means we can think of her as something like the greatest pray-er out there, our greatest intercessor before God’s throne. It is like calling her the captain of the all-star team in a way. If the Saints are good at praying than she is their Great One. I have at least three other articles at this point about the Blessed Mother so by all means learn more and draw nearer to our Sacred Mommy.

Anyway, the Holy Rosary became the central devotion of the Order of Preachers (Dominican Order of Priests) which St. Dominic founded. The devotion was widespread by the end of the century and became exceedingly commonplace to the point that in 1569 Pope St Pius V (p. 1566-1572) made it an official devotion of the Church. At that point it had grown so popular that there were secondary and tertiary devotions built around the Rosary like Our Lady of Victory which commemorated a naval victory over an Ottoman fleet. It is difficult to call to mind a prayer technique outside of those explicitly spelled out in the New Testament that have reached the level of universal adoption the Rosary has.

Pope Leo XIII (p. 1878-1903) probably put the simple grandeur of it best when he said the rosary is how devotees accompany Mary in her contemplation of Christ. The more you think about Mary’s relationship with her son the more that affects you. Pope St. Leo XIII was the pontiff who instituted the custom of praying the rosary daily during the month of October. At that point in history this would have been like telling people to spend at least an hour a day on their cell phone to we moderns. People already did it quite a bit.

The Rosary historically had three sets of five mysteries: the Joyful, Sorrowful, and glorious. However in 2002, Pope St. John Paul II added a fourth set, the Luminous or Mysteries of Light, after St. George Franco Preca’s 1957 reflections adding five more mysteries of the faith taken from the life of Jesus Christ. The Rosary had now firmly become the people’s unceasing prayer of the Church to the Clergy’s breviary. I don’t think it is unfair to say the Rosary has eclipsed the Breviary, even among clergy.

Crash Course Holy Rosary

If there is any barrier to entry with the Rosary beyond merely knowing the prayers and the patience to pray them all, it is just learning how to let rote prayer open your heart. That little quote from the Buddha mentioned earlier about calming our monkey minds really provided me with an epiphany, my ah-ha moment, about rote prayer. The Rosary’s repetition helps you enter into a spiritually open mental state. Even if your mind can wander while praying the prayers themselves, the mysteries along the way demand your contemplation.

There are simply too many of those mysteries to discuss each in depth and still keep this article within the length of a blog post. Most Christians will recognize 75% of the mysteries of the Rosary right off the bat. Catholics should be able to recall 100% of them if their religious education was worth its salt. I thought a broad overview of the Rosary itself would be appropriate to frame what this all means for how we worship God if we are to be serious about our devotions and relationship with God as a whole.

You start with the sign of the cross and say the Apostles Creed. This is where I often incorporate some kind of dedication: who I am dedicating this Rosary to or what intercession, what I am praying to God for, as I pray the whole Rosary to follow. After that the practice Rosary, or mini-Rosary as I like to call it starts, that is a tour of the repetitive prayers used in each decade, or ten Hail Mary grouping, but only five prayers long minus any specific mystery.

I just made that sound way more complicated than it is. The practice Rosary is an Our Father followed by three Hail Marys capped off with a Glory Be: the shortened version of each decade of the rest of the Rosary. Its simple really.

Now we arrive at the first bead with a mystery attached to it. More on which mysteries to pray on what days in a little bit. After you recite the mystery you’ll be contemplating during the ensuing decade of Hail Marys and perhaps contemplating what fruit this mystery might provide you or some other attached devotion, you then pray an Our Father before the ten Hail Marys of the decade, one Hail Mary for each bead. After completing a decade you pray a Glory Be and boom, you’re at the next big bead where you recite the next mystery. This cycle repeats itself until you go through all five mysteries at which point you have a closing prayer, usually a Hail Holy Queen, at the three-way intersection of the Rosary.

There is an exceptionally devoted practice of praying all the Rosary mysteries at once in a 20-decade rosary. You rarely see this outside the confines of a religious convent or monastery. If you ever come across a 20-decade rosary you might do a double take because it really does look like a factory error.

Depending on the Church season different sets of mysteries are prayed each day. However the traditional schedule is Joyful Mysteries on Monday and Saturday, Sorrowful Mysteries on Tuesday and Friday, Glorious Mysteries on Wednesday and Sunday, and the Luminous Mysteries on Thursday. If you get in the habit of praying the Rosary I recommend being very flexible with this schedule.

My general rule is also that I pray the Sorrowful Mysteries more frequently during the Lenten season and the Glorious and Luminous Mysteries more frequently during the Easter season. I almost never pray the Rosary without some kind of complementary reading on each mystery as I go, it helps remind me the importance of what I am reflecting on as I pray each decade.

Finally, here are those mysteries I have talked up so much. Again, even a lapsed Christian will recognize most of these. See how many you know off the top of your head as we go through these:

Joyful Mysteries:

The Annunciation (Mary is told she’s going to give birth to Jesus)

The Visitation

The Nativity

The Presentation (Jesus’ dedication as an infant)

Finding Jesus in the Temple

Luminous Mysteries:

Baptism of Jesus

Wedding at Cana

Proclaiming the Kingdom (The Apostles sent two by two)

The Transfiguration

The Institution of the Eucharist (Last Supper)

Sorrowful Mysteries:

The Agony in the Garden

The Scourging at the Pillar

The Crowning with Thorns

Jesus carries the Cross

The Crucifixion

Glorious Mysteries:

The Resurrection

The Ascension

The Descent of the Holy Spirit (Pentecost)

The Assumption of Mary (into heaven)

The Coronation of Mary

What the Rosary tells us about worshipping God

Beyond the spiritual openness to God the Rosary can help us establish in our prayer lives, there is something deeper rote prayer practices like this tell us about who and why we worship the way we do. There comes a point in everyone’s spiritual growth as a Christian, or at least there should come a point, when the whole pursuit of religious faith stops being about us as individuals and starts to flow outward. That is outward horizontally to others in service and outward vertically to God in worship.

I could talk all the livelong day about the value of service, it is how the foundation of my faith was built over Service Camps and by way of several Vincentian Priests, but when we’re talking about the Rosary I think its insightful to look to worship. What do we mean when we claim to worship God? What is worship all about, particularly for us modern people, so predisposed to independence and righteous skepticism?

There was an interesting thing I uncovered while brushing up on my Rosary facts for this article. Apparently in some high-liturgy Lutheran circles, Lutherans correct me if I’m wrong, the Rosary is prayed without any Hail Marys. Instead the Jesus Prayer is said in place of the 53 Hail Marys in your average Rosary. This is called a Lutheran Rosary apparently. I found this very interesting, and not just for the normal sectarian reasons.

I found that so interesting because the Jesus Prayer substituting into the Rosary really drives home the point about what the worship element is all about in this. The Jesus Prayer is super easy, I can say it for you before this paragraph is done… Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. That’s it. That’s the whole prayer. There is simplicity there obviously; but stop and take in the humility and the orientation toward God it imposes in just a handful of words.

If one is to believe in God they must also believe they are not God. The Mosaic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) share an understanding of God as “the being which no greater being can be thought of” (St. Anslem of Canterbury) or in more philosophical terms: the four-A God who is all-knowing (omniscient), all-powerful (omnipotent), all-present (omnipresent), and all-loving (omnibenevolent). If such a being does exist, and they have created us with free will to choose for or against them as it would seem they have, that God is indeed all-loving because… well wow, think about that. Such a God is worthy of worship even if you contemplate him/her on a very brief, cursory level like that.

To be very blunt, none of us weary humans fit that bill. We are not God and if that God exists we ought to worship him as such. Frankly, if you have read this far into an article about praying the Rosary I would imagine you already believe God exists. If not, well then wow, thank you for spending this much time on my blog.

Humility before God is the right orientation of worship and all meaningful prayer.

Back to the Jesus Prayer: this ancient prayer is the distillation of that right orientation towards God. If we are to seriously worship God we have to take seriously his godliness and our humanity and the profound blessedness that relationship implies. If God wants a relationship with we human beings that alone is such an incredible blessing worthy of the response of worship. To then take the Christian step to say God was incarnate in Jesus Christ and committed the ultimate act of atoning solidarity with us should bring us to our knees just by believing in such a truth.

The Jesus Prayer orients us toward God properly, and that is why I think the Lutherans really did create something nice there with their version of the Rosary even if I feel somewhat slighted for my divine mother by it. The Rosary, Lutheran or Catholic, provides us with a unique combination of centering repetitive prayer and contemplative belief material to then pray over. In both motions of the Rosary then we find something of a blueprint for how to worship God.

One: clear the chaos of our mind and lives, casting aside what drives us away from being with God via repetition and practice. Two: once open to God’s action in ourselves and in humanity, dive into the sacred mysteries of his action which he has already done for us. Simplified even more we can consider these two steps a simple two-word cycle between conversion and transformation.

Knowing is one thing; believing, loving, and following God is another. To believe, love, and follow God we must be constantly converted out of old and or sinful ways of doing and living into what Jesus Christ has for us: transformation. Conversion is the movement of the heart, the willfulness, to a new way of doing things while the transformation is the work of actually changing. God helps with that, don’t worry.

Fun translation fact I always love to drop in during this discussion is the biblical command to repent. In English the word repent sounds very scolding and possessive. In the original Greek for repent, metanoia, the word is much closer to something like changing your thinking or changing your mind. For we fiercely independent and educated moderns that might be a little bit more palatable. Have the humility to change your mind and embrace God’s Will. If knowing that helps you worship God any more than before than I’ve more than done my job with this article even if you never pray a Rosary.

If nothing else worshipping God is a part of my life I would never want to give up. It is not an intellectual effort for me; though sometimes I must choose faith over the flatly logical choice just because real world relationships are built on faith more than they are built on facts. If my wife asked me if I was faithful to her on a business trip she really only has faith to go on. What I say in response is a mystery to have faith in or not. She could go to lengths to investigate my behavior on said business trip, but would that not defeat the purpose of the faith of the relationship? Can real, tangible love exist without such a foundation of faith?

For me there is a certain kind of joy in worshipping God every time I go to Mass or give him his due in prayer. It is not unlike the joy I feel at a family gathering or when I see my wife after a long trip away from her. Worship practiced in the context of relationship, particularly after some time with it, really becomes a thankful joy. The “pearl of great price” (Matthew 13:45-46) to use biblical analogy. That is the peace I think of when I think of praying the Holy Rosary.

My favorite late night comedian Stephen Colbert put his belief in God in terms of thankfulness as well asking: “If I didn’t believe in God where would all the thankfulness go?” St. John Chrysostom puts the finer point on that same idea: “Prayer is the place of refuge for every worry, a foundation for cheerfulness, a source of constant happiness, a protection against sadness.” That is a place of peace. That is what the Rosary is good at.

That is a prayerfulness worth unceasingly doing. I might try to pray the Rosary daily for the first time this month but even if I am unsuccessful the joyful thing the Rosary does will still be there for me whenever I pick it up. I understand now, after years of maturing, what its spiritual usefulness really is. I now understand how monks and nuns otherwise occupied with far more interesting life pursuits are so enthusiastic and dedicated to their prayer, their rosary praying, than what was apparent to me as a younger man. The joy of the Rosary is the love and faith of God rightly worshipped.

Thanks for reading! My book “How to catch feelings for Jesus” is available online. Share this article! I am in the swing of writing on a monthly basis now and would love to hear your input. Did you really read all that about the Holy Rosary to not have something to say about it?

#catholic #blog #catholicism #jesus #mary #Rosary

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pinkprettycure · 2 years ago

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i've seen ppl (well only other americans) either confused or just brush it off as Americans Copying Anime Thing that the cast of mwdh all wears a uniform but the majority of school in chicago actually do require uniforms, so that's what I'm familiar with. the highschool i was at my freshman year didn't have one but every other school i was familiar with did lol Schools without uniforms was something i chalked up to a rich kids thing lol

mostly polo and slacks combos, although my schools were a lot more lenient and just had a color policy (black pants + plain white shirt) for YEARS until i graduated. when my sister attended them both the k-8 and high school i went to switched it up and started requiring polos with the school logo or in the schools colors lol. nobody really had a cute uniform unless it was a catholic school or JROTC. which i toyed w the idea of joining bc of the uniforms lmaooo. but the nearby catholic school was girls only and i wanted to see cute boys 🙄 and despite living literally across the street from my high school i was chronically late and JROTC required u to wake up an hour earlier

#are you telling me char broiled this burger?#my reasons were silly but they did keep me out of what i could only assume would have been a hellish high school experience

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kuureel · 2 years ago

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"Island Girl"

1999 dec, my dad and my mom met when they went to the tangub watching Christmas lights display together with their family. My mom doesn't like my dad for the first time they met because my mom thinks that my dad is arrogant. And then he flirted my mom after all. Before they were dating, he went to Cagayan to Bukidnon, he always called my cousin tits and ian went with my mom to Medicare because there is a payphone. And she asked ian to lend some money to load a call for them to talk. Until they became lovers. They wander around taraka with his friends. When my mom had her birthday in May 4, 2000 my dad surprised her with a birthday cake. And class has started my dad always go to my mom's house they bring foods and bado is also his schoolmate in Purvil, they hang out a lot. My mommyla loves him so much that he's going to complain us of fighting. My dad decided to marry my mom after he graduate high school and then he graduated on march at Purvil High School. First week of april my dad promised to marry my mom and then family approved that next year will be the wedding. April 20, 2002 they were married in roman catholic at St. John the Baptist Church. He got baptized, they attended seminars and these are the requirements to get married. My mom had a miscarriage of their first baby because she has asthma. Fast forward 2003 of July my mom got pregnant of me. Then she decided to quit working at the mobil because she had always asthma. Since then she's been handling my grandfather's paperwork in the mooring wayback 2003. April 16, 2004 at Dr. Uy medical clinic my mom gave birth to a baby girl through forcip, because the umbilical cord twisted around the neck and that was the first celebration of araw ng jimenez. Her visitors are yvonne brown and willard in the room. They also visited eyos, ekoy and rustom. They always leave me there in mommyla's house because my mom was an enumerator in the population census conducted by nso, so she is with your my dad because she hasn't yet been unacquainted here in tabo-o. Until I went to school in the assembly of God I were 4 years old until 6 years old. Until I grew up in this place in tabo-o which is in a beach area. And became an island girl since then and up until now in my 18th years of living here.

#justjerie #creative nonfiction

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todaysdocument · 3 years ago

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Letter from Lutiant Van Wert to her friend Louise about her work as a nurse during the Influenza epidemic, and about the rest of her life (pp. 1, 4, 6, 7), 10/17/1918

“So everybody has the "Flu" at Haskell?”

File Unit: Contagious Epidemics, 1904 - 1941

Series: Subject Correspondence Files, 1904 - 1941

Record Group 75: Records of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, 1793 - 1999

Transcription:

(Copy)

231-14th St. South East.

October 17, 1918.

Dear friend Louise:

So everybody has the "Flu" at Haskell? I wish to goodness Miss Keck and Mrs. McK. would get it and die with it. Really, it would be such a good riddance, and not much lost either! As many as 90 people die everyday here with the "Flu". Soldiers too, are dying by the dozens. So far, Felicity, C. Zane, and I are the only ones of the Indian girls who have not had it. We certainly consider ourselves lucky too, believe me. Katherine [first e was struck through] and I just returned last Sunday evening from Camp Humphreys "Somewher in Virginia" where we volunteered to help nurse soldiers sick with the Influenza. We were there at the Camp ten days among some of the very worse cases and yet we did not contract it. We had intended staying much longer that we did, but the work was entirely too hard for us, and anyway the soldiers were all getting better, so we came home to rest up a bit. We were day nurses and stationed in the Officer's barracks for six days and then transferred to the Private's barracks or hospital and were there four days before we came back. All nurses were required to work twelve hours a day--we worked from seven in the morning until seven at night, with only a short time for luncheon and dinner.

[page 2]

-4-

I was so tired I never took special notice, but I thought I had my own bag. When I opened it to get out my comb and powder--behold! There was a kit-bag fully equiped and a knitted sweater in it, plus a few other trinkets'. I knew then, whose aag I had, so checked my suit case and started out to look for this soldier and exchange bags, as I thought he had mine. After walking around 45 minutes I began to despair of ever finding him and started back to the Ladies room and I came upon him sitting in one corner. I recognized my bag right away and went to exchange. He was simply so tickled to get his bag back he almost squeezed the life out of my hand when he shook it. I had my card and destination tacked on the handle fo my bag, so he found out where I was going without telling him--and as fate would have it--he was going to D. C. too, so we traveled the rest of the way together. He is a perfect gentlemen, and sure treated me nice on the way. Since I am located here, he has been down to our house twice to see me since I came back from Camp Humphreys, and he sure wants me to come down to Potomac Park as a nurse. He is not what one would call "handsome" but he is certainly [underlined] good-looking [/underlined], and on top of all that--he is a CATHOLIC. Sure like it for myself too. All the girls have soldiers--Indian girls also. Some of the girls have soldiers and sailors too. The boys are particularly crazy about the Indian girls. They tell us that the Indian girls are not so "easy" as the white girls, so I guess maybe that's their reason.

[page 3]

-6-

A lot of the girls from the Office here go out to sell bonds but some of them dont make much of a success. One of the Indian girls, named Cathryne Welch, went out last week to sell bonds and she sold so many that she got escused from the Office for the rest of this week to do nothing but sell bonds. She is a very pretty girl--a high school graduate and one year normal. She has two brothers in the army--one is a Captain and the other a Sargeant. Maybe you remember seeing Capt. Gus Welch's picture in the K. C. Star--well that is her brother and he "over there" now.

All the schools, churches, theaters, dancing halls, etc. are closed here also. There is a bill in the Senate today authorizing all the war-workers to be released from work for the duration of this epidemic. It has not passed the house yet, but I can't help but hope it does. If it does, Lutiant can find plenty of things at home to busy herself with, or she might accidentally take a trip to Potomac Park. Ha! Ha!

It is perfectly alright about the sweater. I dont expect you to be able to get it while you are quartined, but will still be glad to have it if you can send it as soon as you are out of quartined. It is rather cold in Washington, but not cold enough to wear winter coats yet, and my suit coat is a little too thin, so I figured out that a sweater would be the thing to have. Sometimes it is cold enough to wear a wrap while working, but of course it is out of questio[n]

[page 4]

-7-

to work in a heavy winter coat. However, send it whenever you find it convenient to do so, and I will settle with you as promptly as possible.

Well Louise, if you are not dead tired of reading this letter, I'll write another like it some other time. There is still a lot I could tell you about D. C., but it's nearing lunch time and I want to be right ther on the dot, as I always am--to be sure.

Write again whenever you fine it convenient to do so--always glad to hear the Haskell news from you.

Sincerely your friend,

(Signed) Lutiant.

Address same as before.

#archivesgov #October 17 #1918 #1910s #Influenza #Spanish Flu #epidemic #nurse #Haskell Institute #Haskell Indian Nations University #meet-cute #quarantine #Native American history #American Indian history #Indigenous American history

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years ago

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But professor… - c.2

Summary: Penny continues to have some questions about the assignment, but thankfully professor Marshall is right there to help her out

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next Chapter

My second criminology class, I was feeling a bit under the weather, but like the real die hard that I am, confusing to give in and rest (which would’ve be the better idea), I continued to go to class. I hid part of my face behind my scarf, while I would take a sip of my tea every now and then. I barely absorbed anything that class and professor Marshall must’ve noticed, because he didn’t call for me the entire class.

Thankfully.

But now I feel better and am going to make up for my lack of attention last class. While the the class can be pretty gore, it has become my favorite class, partially because I really like professor Marshall.

No wait, solely because I like professor Marshall.

I don’t want to admit it, but I kinda went out of my way to look presentable for class. I spend my entire life being invisible, unnoticed, but that’s not the case in this class. It’s nice to be acknowledged (I could do without Fitzgerald, who continues to creepily stare from a distance). I put on some lipstick, that matches my blush pink sweater.

Professor Marshall looks up from his notes when I walk in the lecture hall, one corner of his mouth curled up a bit. ‘Morning,’ he says, his tone low and brass.

‘Good morning,’ I say softly, walking towards my assigned seat. Since last class happened in a blur, I am going to pay extra attention to this one.

It is hard though, to focus. We have to understand the crime scene, trying to dissect what happened exactly. However, all the blood, fake or not, makes me want to vomit. I swallow hard and thankfully professor Marshall is skipping over me.

Until…

‘Miss Townsend,’ the professor says, ‘overlap between the victims. I want at four points.’

Four points? Is he for real? That’s a lot. I hate that I made a sort of good point the first class. I have to live up to that expectation now.

Think, Penny, think. ‘All victims are fathers,’ I start, ‘white collar workers and have a brunette wife.’ I try to remember what he told us about and what I read prior to this class. ‘They had affairs with someone they worked with, someone who worked a job that paid less than theirs.’

‘And what does that tell you?’

‘The killer has a type,’ I say, but from the looks of it, he wants more. ‘The victims are carefully picked out, maybe because… These men remind the killer of someone?’

He nods. ‘Exactly.’

I let out a deep relieved sigh, knowing that there is a possibility that he won’t pick me again. I see Fitzgerald looking over his shoulder, to basically gawk at me. He is going out of his way to say intelligent stuff during classes, but everything that leaves his lips is… Bullshit.

After the class ended, I stay for a bit, because of course I have another question. I might not be entirely stupid, but academically gifted is not applicable to me. ‘Professor Marshall,’ I say, as I walk towards him.

‘Miss Townsend,’ he says, ‘you did well today in class.’

‘Oh.’ Stupid me, blushing again. ‘Thank you. I have another question about the assignment.’

‘Why?’

Did he seriously just asked me why? I start to stammer a bit, taken aback from his retort. How am I supposed to answer that? Maybe just stick with the truth? ‘Because I don’t understand.’

‘What don’t you understand?’

‘The case I chose,’ I say.

‘You have time at four?’ he asks. ‘To meet me in my office? I can help you out.’

I nod with a smile. I am going to his office! ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

‘Where are your glasses?’ he asks, placing the presenter on the table.

He noticed that I wasn’t wearing my glasses today? Is it because I look stupid without them? ‘In my bag,’ I answer. ‘I sometimes switch between lenses and glasses. Why?’

Professor Marshall shrugs. ‘Just wondering. See you at four. Sharp.’

✎ ✎ ✎

I knock on professor Marshall’s office door at four sharp (I mean, he felt the need to emphasis it, so I should be on time, right?) and he says: ‘Come in.’ I open the door, to see him sitting behind his desk.

‘Is that… a chair?’ I ask, pointing to the pretty comfortable looking chair on the my side of the desk.

Professor Marshall nods. ‘I didn’t want you to stand,’ he says. ‘Don’t get used to it though. I plan on removing this thing as soon as you leave.’ He smirks. ‘It gives me the creeps. I usually don’t like people hanging around in my office. Whether that is at NYU or the MPD.’

I take a seat and blink my eyes a few times. Gosh, I don’t think I have ever wore my lenses this long and they start to hurt a bit. Just keep them in for a few more moments. Be subtle. ‘My question is about the literature.’

Professor Marshall tilts his head. ‘Are you okay, miss— Penny?’

Apparently I’m not at all subtle. ‘Just my lenses, that’s it.’

‘You can take them out. Please, go ahead.’

Thankfully I brought my stuff with me and I grab my bag, searching for my glasses and lenses case. ‘The literature that is required for the assignment… There isn’t a list provided by you and I have a hard time finding some.’ I remove one of my lenses and continue to take out the other. Gosh, the relief. I put the glasses on and place both cases in the backpack.

‘I can email you a list of literature you can use,’ he says. ‘Why is it giving you difficulties?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know, professor.’

‘Walter,’ he says.

Huh? ‘Excuse me, what?’

‘It’s after school,’ he continues, ‘so you can quit with calling me professor and start calling me Walter, okay?’

Walter. Seems so personal, so intimate. Not complaining at all, if I’m being honest. I nod. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

‘Why did you choose psychology, Penny?’ he asks.

That’s a deep question. It’s almost like a first date (if I have to believe the movies, because yours truly never went on a date in her life). Why does he even care? ‘My parents thought it was important I went to university. They wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, but I’m not that intellectually gifted. Besides, psychology might give me more of an idea of who I am or what I am. I traveled after high school, hoping to figure out who I am, but so far, no luck.’

Professor Marshall nods. ‘And you think criminology is gonna help you with that?’

I chuckle. ‘No, it’s not. Originally, I wanted to go for the child psychology course, to see if I could understand myself better through that, but I missed the enrolling date. It was either criminology or animal behavior.’

‘Animal behavior? That’s a course?’

‘Mhm.’

He nods. ‘Well, you’re really good in criminology,’ he says. ‘We could’ve used you in the force.’

I run my fingers through my hair and smile nervously. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘You noticed the droopy eyelid. Took detectives long enough before they realized that.’

‘Lucky guess.’

Professor Marshall leans back in his seat. ‘You’ve got to stop undermining yourself,’ he notes. ‘You are sharp, notice the details. You have a lot of potential, in this field or any other. I think you just don’t know it yet.’

My cheeks heat up. Is he saying what I think he is saying? ‘Really?’

He nods. ‘Really,’ he confirms. The professor keeps looking at me, but weirdly enough I don’t feel uncomfortable. ‘Tell me something what you want to find out about yourself.’

I clear my throat. ‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Tell me something about yourself then,’ he says. ‘Something that’s a foundation for who you are.’

I bite my lip and try to think of something. What is a foundation of who I am? ‘Well,’ I say, after contemplating for a moment or two, ‘I was adopted after I was left at a Catholic church doorstep when I was few hours old. I was brought to a hospital, where they found out I was a premature baby with heroin in my blood. They never discovered who my parents were.’

‘Oh, Penny,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He is sorry for me? I bite my lip, before I say: ‘My adoptive parents are sweet, they really are, but I’m scared sometimes.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, because if I’m that unloveable at a few hours old, I bet I’ll become that later on, you know? Especially when they will find out that I might not even work in this field, because it’s not where my heart is.’

He places his underarms on his desk, folding his hands together. ‘You’re not unloveable,’ he says in a soft tone, ‘you could never be.’

I smile. ‘We’ll just have to see about that.’

The professor squints his eyes for a few seconds, almost as if he is trying to figure me out without asking anymore questions. ‘Tell me, what field has your heart?’

‘Cosmetology school,’ I say. ‘I know, a huge downgrade from this, but… I love stuff like that.’

He is smiling at me. ‘It’s not a downgrade,’ he says, his town a bit lower than before. ‘I bet you would be great at it.’

I clear my throat, a bit taken aback by the impromptu therapy session. ‘Thank you, Walter, for answering my questions. I feel like I’m bombarding you with questions to a point where it gets annoying.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you worry about it, you could never annoy me.’ He grabs a piece of paper and writes something down on it, as I stand up. ‘Here.’

‘What’s that?’

‘My number. If you have another question or anything else, you can always text or call me.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Of course I have another question. Is it inappropriate to ask this much time and attention of your professor? I almost think it is, but I really want to understand the assignment and my other teachers aren’t as nice as Walter.

While I wish I wasn’t doing this entire major, I do want to prove myself, especially in my criminology class. I don’t want to let him down.

Oh my, have I taken an interest in my professor? That would be improper behavior, right? Isn’t this totally illegal?

Well, my feelings aren’t and he does not feel the same way, so nothing will happen anyway. No need to think about the illegality of the situation when it’ll never get that far.

I grab my phone nonetheless and the piece of paper and add him to my contacts as Walter. I check his profile picture. It’s a slightly blurry photo of Walter sitting in a police car, but even through the blurry pixels, I can still recognize him. The same type of sweater. The messy curls, the beard and the deep frown between his thick brows.

Me: Professor Marshall, can I ask you something?

Me: This is Penny btw

Walter: What did I tell you, Penny?

Me: Oh, I’m sorry

Me: Walter

Walter: Atta girl

My eyes widen as I read his text, while my heart skips a few beats. ‘Oh,’ I whisper to myself. This is making me slightly giddy. What is happening here?

Walter: What’s your question?

Me: I’m still having troubles with the literature

Me: You know what? I’m sorry, I am totally asking to much of your time and I shouldn’t do that.

Me: Forget it, I’m sorry

Walter: No, no, no, Penny, it’s alright.

Walter: I gave you my number, remember?

Me: Right…

Walter: The literature is your only question?

Me: Yes

Me: It’s just a lot and I don’t know which piece of literature is applicable to my case

Walter: You had case four, right?

Me: Yes

Walter: I’ll send you a list of the literature you can use

Me: You sure it’s not too much?

Walter: I’m sure

✎ ✎ ✎

During my counseling skills class I am in the back of the lecture hall and heavily distracted. This professor is incredibly boring and really enjoys hearing himself talk. However, I’m occupied enough. Since there is no on behind or next to me, I open another tab on my laptop, to see I have yet another message from Walter.

Yes, I said Walter. I’m not in class, so it’s not professor Marshall.

Walter: Still in class?

Me: Yes, still am.

Me: What are you doing?

Walter: Consulting on a case for the NYP

Me: Do you miss working for the police force?

Walter: I do

Me: Why aren’t you working for the police now?

Walter: I’m suspended

Me: Do I want to know what you did?

Walter: I may or may not have yelled at some guy, thrown around some chairs during interrogation.

Walter: Thanks to me we solved the case though

Me: Remind me to always be on your good side 😅 😅

Walter: You are, Penny

Walter: Don’t you worry 😉

Me: Do you enjoy being a teacher?

Walter: No, not in the slightest

Walter: How are your assignments holding up?

Me: It’s going okay… It’s just a lot.

Walter: I bet

Me: It kinda feels like I’m drowning

Me: Already

Walter: You need help?

Me: I can’t ask that of you

Walter: You didn’t ask, I offered.

Me: Okay detective 🙄

Walter: Did you just roll your eyes at me?

Me: No, sir, I didn’t 🙈

Walter: I can help you out, I promise

Me: Where?

Walter: My loft?

Me: Your loft?

Walter: Yes, I can pick you up from somewhere

Me: You have crime scene pictures around your place?

Walter: I’ll have them gone by the time you get there

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x oc #walter marshall x asian ofc #walter marshall x penny townsend #asian ofc #penny townsend #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x penny townsend #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #but professor

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mskimkaty · 4 years ago

Text

Quit | J.JH

Angst, Smut, fluff (little bit on the end)

Synopsis: You might think that some people who did you bad have little impact in your life, tip toeing from situations that you knew could repeat the same mistakes but there will always be that one person who will destroy all your resolve and you’ll find yourself fucking your rules for them.

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: love u all. pls enjoy! (not really proof read)

Edit: uhmmm pls don’t judge me but this is actually my bf and my story of how we met to how we become couples. Alright. Enjoy!!!!

You hated how you didn’t take “searching for college schools” seriously, and now, you’re all but stuck for the rest of your college years in the same school you graduated from High school. You know it’s a good school, having to be in the top 7 elite schools all over the country that has an institution that offers all levels of education— but you honestly don’t care about that right now. You wished you didn’t choose the easy road in finding a good college because now you’re stuck with a university that has zero-base for their grading system, 75 marks as their passing grade, and put their students with fully loaded units— having up to 30 units per semester. How Asian can it get?

Fourth-year high school wasn’t your year, when a particular boy, Jeon Jungkook broke your heart. He was a close friend first before he became someone more than that, you told yourself not to be involved with the likes of him in any way, you first meet during your junior year by a mutual friend—Joy, your best friend, was in the same class as him, thus, the reason the both of you became close.

Joy warned you about him and you knew because that’s what you told her base on your first impression on Jungkook, but you still tested the waters. And that’s how you broke your heart for the first time, you let yourself trust him despite all the bad things that you heard about him, you ignore everything because you were happy around him, but you were tired of having a relationship without a label and the fact that he doesn’t want you to be seen together speaks so much. You went on a retreat for 3 days in your senior year as it was a requirement for every graduating students by your catholic school, you weren’t going steady per se, but you still talked nonetheless, as he was getting busy with basketball, and you, having the cheerleading competition around the corner, training, exams, and graduation. You both have so much on your own plates.

You kept on seeing red flags— the way he’s not responding to your calls and messages for a week, you haven’t really seen him around the school as varsity players have their own retreat, and when you saw a photo posted in his Instagram account with a girl in your year. She was a transferee, that’s all you remember after receiving a text message of him saying sorry. You hated how forgiving you can be, you hoped you can be tough and talk back to him— but no, you never had the chance to say what you wanted to say to him. You just let everything go. You can’t even ask someone to comfort you because of the fact you were a secret. You didn’t even know why you agreed with that kind of set up in the first place. Why did you choose something temporarily for a piece of mind? You hated how easy you can get sometimes, but you closed that chapter in your life after cursing him for months in your head and some Friday night parties until you graduated High school.

And now, you’re in your second year of college and very much single. You received a message from Seulgi, saying that she needs to cancel your plans from eating out because of a midterm exam that got rescheduled she was your best friend together with Joy, Irene, and Wendy since high school but college happened and the five of you went with different schools except for Wendy and Seulgi who enrolled at the same University. You have a heavy sigh, it’s not that you don’t have friends in your own department, you do. It’s just that all your girlfriends have classes and won’t be done until 3 in the afternoon— and you’re very much hungry.

You saw a very familiar face exiting the lesson hall next to yours and you’re quick on your feet to hide behind the walls of your classroom.

“Y/n, I’ve already seen you, you know.” Suh Johnny stands beside you with Ten beside him smiling at you, you three both did your handshakes after getting drag out of the room. “Have you eaten already?” Ten asks and you shook your head. Johnny put his arms around your shoulders and the three of you walked out of the campus to eat out.

“Oppa, what’s that?” you asked Ten preferring to his phone when you all settled down while Johnny browses the menu on what to order. “Jaehyun asked if he can join.” He says to the both of you, you look at Johnny as you both shrugs. Jung Jaehyun was once an IT student, he shifted after a year into your department and incredibly smart in mathematics. He was instantly everyone’s friend in your year.

“I’m cool with him,” Johnny says and they both look at you. You’re not really fond of everybody and not entirely friendly with everyone. You’ve been close with Johnny and Ten who were much older than you only because you knew them since High school. “It’s cool.” You muttered.

“But you wouldn’t be comfortable around other people, though.” Ten commented. They were completely aware of your introverted ass. They know what happened to you during your fourth-year high school, not only with Jeon Jungkook but the fact that all of your female classmates during your senior year made you an outcast. You honestly find it funny now, since you know that you have four amazing friends who stuck with you through thick and thin. You wished you had taken up the opportunity when Seulgi asked you to join her for hunting college schools before graduating High school so that you can be with her throughout your college years, but what’s done is done, what happened to you in the past brought you here right now and made you who you are. It wasn’t a problem for you— you like having the quality over quantity. You like how your circle of friends isn’t that big, too many people in your life can cost you too much trouble in the end, you know that because you’ve already experienced it first hand, having many people in your life will only lead you to disappointments.

You weren’t familiar with Jung Jaehyun, per se, you just had a class with him during the second semester of your first year of college, that one professor you disliked so much teaching algebra instead of business mathematics and had the audacity to fail you. You hated how you got a failed mark while Jaehyun passed the subject despite his absences, you acknowledge him for having a big brain when it comes to numbers but you still find it unfair how he passed and you failed, you wished you could be as smart as him. You first met him when Mark introduced you to him after your Psychology class, you were talking with Mark about your Final output for the subject when he came up to Mark— fist-bumping, while wearing a white hoodie and black jeans, had those big Nike bags that you knew Basketball players uses, his white sneakers clean and you look at yours— completely worn out and definitely needed a new pair.

He was smiling at you, eyeing Mark while waiting to be introduced to you. That got you rolling your eyes at him unknowingly, making him slightly intimidated with you. You shot Jaehyun a fake smile— he was cute, charming, tall, and obviously another varsity player. God, your skin starts to crawl, another varsity player is being too friendly with you. You bid Mark goodbye, and that was the start of your acquaintances with Jung Jaehyun, he was everywhere, becoming the Mr. Congeniality of your Department in no time when he shifted after a year in Information Technology.

The three of you waited for Jaehyun to arrive before ordering your lunch, you waited for another minute before the door opened and Jaehyun walked in wearing a black long tee and denim jeans paired with his clean white sneakers. He settled down beside Ten who was in front of you and you started to become uncomfortable. Johnny and Jaehyun decided to get your orders and you were left with Ten in your booth.

“Y/N, Jaehyun’s a good guy, you already know him for half a year, why are you still uncomfortable around him?” Ten asks you as you heave a heavy sigh. It’s not that you're uncomfortable around him because of your trust issues, you’re uncomfortable because clearly, he’s your type, and you’re not comfortable with the idea of it, you know he already had a girlfriend, you saw his wallpaper for a second when he put it down on the table before locking it. “I’m not. It’s just that—Oppa, can’t I be shy around people?” you countered, Ten looked at you funnily. “Don’t kid with me, y/n- ah. You guys both have International Cuisine, right?” he asks and you nod. “Then, you’ll be around him more often from now on, loosen up, He’s a great guy, if he did something to you, just tell me and Johnny and we’ll take care of it for you.” he flashed you a smile and you brush it off while giggling at him. “Thanks, Oppa, but no thanks.” You say and the two came back with two trays full of food. “It’s on me.” Johnny settled down next to you and you shoot him a grateful smile as the four of you started digging.

“Are you throwing a party for your birthday?” Johnny suddenly asked, you nod at him and he muttered a small okay while your eyes darted at Jaehyun— it would be totally rude not to invite him for your birthday party when the topic is already laid on the table. Plus, he was looking at the three of you intently, seemingly out of place with the subject of the conversation. “Jaehyun, you should come on my birthday, It’s on the 19th, just some drinks and food on me, nothing too grand.” You find yourself saying and Ten and Johnny were shocked that you invited him. you clear your throat and continued “Can you guys ask everyone? I haven’t seen Yuta, Jungwoo, and Taeil Oppa but I already asked a bunch of people.” You added. They all agreed. “Thanks for inviting me, I think I don’t have anything going on that day,” Jaehyun commented. “Sounds like a plan.” You say and the four of you continued digging in.

That night on your birthday, everything made a 360-degree turn in your life. Having 23 boys in your flat and some of your girlfriends turn out to be so much fun. When you run out of drinks you find yourself on Jaehyun’s passenger seat as the two of you drive to the nearest store to purchase some alcohol— You and Jaehyun seem like the only person sober enough to walk and drive your way outside the comforts of your home. You felt really comfortable around him, he hasn’t made a move on you or anything, and you think that maybe it’s because he already had a girlfriend and is faithful to their relationship.

“Why didn’t you bring your girlfriend with you?” you asked just to start a conversation. “You knew?” he asked you while throwing you side glances, you nod your head yes. “It’s kind of complicated, plus, we're not official.” He continued which made you shocked, he was being open with you shockingly. “What? Why?” for some reason, it made you really curious. He gives you a heartily chuckle “It’s complicated.” You only nod.

When you came back to your flat, you and Jaehyun were left to sit together, Mark and Haechan were completely out of it, while Joy and Irene are having a conversation with Jisung and Chenle. It’s nice to see them conversing with each other. Johnny was busy preparing the drinks with Yuta, Taeyong, and Seulgi, while the others are setting up the karaoke on your flat screen Tv hanged on your living room’s wall.

You thought that was the last time you’ll see Jung Jaehyun, or you thought that was the last time you’ll be together in the same room as well as be at the same table together. You forgot that you both have classes together, that you’re practically in the same department, you honestly forgot that you’re both in the same circle of friends.

You’ve been closer with the guys as time goes by, they were nothing like the people from your High school, they were honestly cool to be with, it just that, they like to unwind sometimes, and that “sometimes” means every Friday of the week, unwinding with drinks and such. This time, Jaehyun was the host, and Jungwoo together with Taeil managed to dragged and convinced you out of girlfriend nights. You have been hanging out with them more than usual and you were getting closer with Jaehyun, particularly, you keep on looking for him at gatherings and he kept on looking out for you. There was an unspoken mutual understanding between the two of you, you know it was wrong, even if you find yourself giddy and happy when he messages you or when he calls you before you go to bed when the two of you meet in between subjects just to eat together. You knew you were repeating the same mistakes as you did with Jungkook, and you can’t help but fuck yourself because everything is wrong at the same time feels right. How screwed can you get? Why do you always choose temporary happiness over a peace of mind?

That night, when most of the guys left to go home and some of them left to smoke outside, you find yourself alone with Jaehyun in his living room. You poured him and yourself a shot, the guys were surely taking their time outside. “One-shot.” You tell him and you both down the tequila in seconds, hissing at the taste burning your throats. You stared at him, thinking that you have to start distancing yourself from him, you don’t want to ruin what he had with his girl. Your stomach turns just by thinking about the possibilities of ruining someone else’s relationship. You were better than that.

You move your gaze away from him, you were about to pour another shot when you felt Jaehyun’s warm hand on your neck pulling you closer. You felt his warm lips on yours, it was sweet and warm, burning you within, but the taste was anything but sweet— you tasted the tequila out of his lips as he licks your bottom lip that got you responding to him, you closed your eyes and find yourself fucking your boundaries for him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer by the waist, rubbing small circles on your skin. You break the kiss as you put your forehead on his, trying to catch your breath. He was about to kiss you again when you move your face away from him, trying to put some distance away from him. “Did I do something wrong?” you heard him saying. You wipe the smudged lipstick on your skin below your lips as you face him. “Jaehyun, you’re not completely single.” You said. “But I’m not in a relationship either, I told you months ago, it was complicated.” He sits beside you properly, a hand clamped together as you look at him.

“Jaehyun, this is non-negotiable. I don’t want to ruin someone’s relationship.” You say, and Johnny walks in. you poured yours and Jaehyun’s shot glass clicking with his before downing it in one go. If Johnny felt the thick air between the two of you, he doesn’t comment on it.

You choose to forget what happened when all of the guys started walking back inside. Started conversing with Johnny about this student in your department that got kicked out of the university because of some issues. You got your self a couple of drinks before standing up to head to the bathroom, but since it was your first time at Jaehyun’s house you ask him where it was, plus Lucas was incredibly taking his time in the bathroom so Jaehyun leads you to his room instead. “Just use mine, Lucas is taking forever.” He said. You nod and head for the bathroom in his room. His room was surprisingly clean and very much boyish in your opinion, the walls are painted blue, his bed covers are white and was neatly done, the cabinets are on the side while a bunch of basketball trophies is beside his computer.

When you were done with his bathroom, you find him sitting at the end of his bed, browsing his phone while waiting for you. “I thought you already went down,” you said. Jaehyun looks up at you. “Can I look at your trophies?” you asked him and as he walks to you and standing beside you to look at his achievements during his High school days.

“Wait, you went to Santa Clara?” you asked him. “So, you know, Jeon Jungkook?” you asked shocked at the information when he said as small “Yes. Why?”

You shook your head and muttered nothing. “We went with some tune-up games in the past, but I know him, he and his group keep on hitting on our cheerleaders it was kind of funny.” He says to you and you laughed. “What’s new, but— wow, what a small world.” “Oh, that’s right he graduated from St. Vincent, right?” you turn your head at him and you see Jaehyun looking at you while waiting for your answer, you only nodded your head, not having the gusto to talk about Jeon Jungkook at the moment. You felt Jaehyun’s hands circling around your wrist, turning your body against him making you look up to him.

You were completely drawn to him, from the way he pulls you closer by the waist, the way he lifts your head as he put his other hand to your face, he has you completely wrapped around his fingers. You felt his lips doing wonders to you and this time you let him kiss you. You find yourself wrapped around him for the second time. “Jaehyun—”

“Hmm.” You felt him deepened the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, hips to hips pressed together and you hated how right it felt. “We need to go down.” you tried to push him away but he won't budge. Jaehyun, slips his thumb just above the exposed skin on your hips, rubbing small circles that got you moaning “If you haven’t noticed, I’m actually crazy for you right now.” He says under his breath and you felt warm all over. Jaehyun has his brows furrowed, his expression as if he was hurting all over the place, and you laugh at him. “Fine, I’ll spend the night here.” You hear yourself saying and Jaehyun only pulled you closer for a hug.

When the night ended, Jaehyun tells the guys that he’ll be the one to give you a ride and no one suspects it— agreeing to him and biding the two of you goodbye while the two of you cleaned up the living room. Moments after, you find yourself having second thoughts about staying the night with him. You know this will only lead to you on Jung Jaehyun’s bed. “Do you want to go home?” he asks you as if reading your mind, and you shook your head. “But can we go grab some late snacks? I’m kind of hungry.”

The both of you drove to McDonald's and ordered some take-outs, Jaehyun drove to a good spot and parked his car, handing you your orders after putting on some good music— fit for the atmosphere. “Ohhh, this is actually good, huh.” You say while smiling at him. Jaehyun put your drinks in the cupholder between the both of you and handed you some tissues after. The warm feelings are back and you hate to admit that he gives you butterflies in your stomach.

“I mean, this could be our thing, y/m.”

You didn’t comment on that. Digging into your burger as a distraction to the strange sensation that you kept on feeling. You were quietly eating your food while having mixed feelings about him. you know this familiar feeling— you’re not stupid enough not to know your catching feelings and that you’re starting to fall in love again.

When you finished up, you turn your body towards Jaehyun, deciding to confess, it’s better to be turned down than to keep on catching feelings for someone who isn’t going to return it at all. It’s not like you to be so brave, in the past, you always wait and that was the problem. You wait until the opportunity slides away from your fingers— from you. Deciding to risk everything this time, you braced yourself for the rejection.

“Jaehyun.” You started and he turns his head towards you. “You know, I like you, right?” you continued. “You’re not stupid and you know there is something going on with the both of us.” Silence feels inside his car to the point it got so thick you can even cut it with a knife. “I may sound like a bitch but you have to choose between me and her.”

“Remember when I told you on your birthday that my relationship with her is complicated?” you nodded your head. “I wasn’t lying about it. We’ve known each other for a while and it’s been eight months that time when I wanted to take our relationship to another level.” Hearing him talk about some other girl and the fact he wanted to make their relationship official hurts you in so many ways possible. You find yourself nodding at him as you ignore the lump in your throat. “But she won’t even admit that she likes me, not even one “Thank you” for all the effort I’ve given her, I understand that saying she loves me is a different level, it’s an understatement, but you know, I’m just someone who also needed affections. I don’t understand her for being so high maintenance.”

“I actually talked with her personally this morning.” He continued. “Was that the reason why you’re absent?” you asked mad over the fact that he was absent for some uncalled reason. “Okay, let me finish before you get mad at me, baby.” You hate how endearing that sounded but you let him talk anyways. “I told her, I was done waiting and that I was sorry that I didn’t keep my promise.”

“You actually courted her?” you asked and he nods. “Yeah, she is high maintenance and stupid.”

“And you know what she replied? She says that she’ll say yes to me if that will make me stay or shut my trap, even, you know how the thought of actually agreeing to that one person to be together was gone just for the benefit of the doubt? She should have said yes from the beginning, I don’t have issues with waiting, I waited for almost a year, I know I can do it again, but not like this.” He moves his hands in the air just to set his point. “Was it my fault that I fell out of love?” He asks you and you turn your head away from him, guilty with the fact you are the reason he fell out of love with her. “Y/n, just give me time, I don’t even need that much.” He says and you nod your head.

When both of you got back to Jaehyun’s flat, it was already midnight, Jaehyun handed you his white clean shirt and boxer shorts to change in to. Giving you some privacy that you needed while he brushes his teeth downstairs. So many things have been running through your mind for the past hour, Jaehyun didn’t turn you down but he didn’t say that he likes you back, either. So where do you stand in his life? You should have gone home; you didn’t want the same mistakes you did in the past to be repeated, but you were tired of waiting and beating around the bush.

Confessing to Jung Jaehyun that you liked him first made you feel naked around him, having your feelings out in the open. When Jaehyun walked in you were still dazed, thousand of thoughts running through your mind. This wasn’t the first time that you’ve to spend the night with him having sleepovers at Johnny’s or the others but this was definitely your first time spending the night with him.

It wasn’t an issue for you to sleep beside him since you already confessed, anyway. And in no time, you slip off to dreamland instantly, shocked at how comfortable you are with having his arms around you as you drifted off to dreamland.

You stir in your sleep when you felt Jaehyun’s hands all over your upper body as he peppers your neck with wet kisses. you fight the sleepiness and look at his nightstand to see that it’s only been two hours when you drifted off to sleep. “Jae, It’s only three in the morning. Can’t you do this later?” you asked as you fight the sleep in your eyes. You felt Jaehyun’s hands hover around your left mound, squeezing it slightly and you look at him fully. “You agree on doing this later?” he asks out of breath.

“You expect me to fall asleep when you’re on my bed in my clothes?” he whispered in your ear and you moan when his fingers slip in your undies— rubbing circles in your clit. “Already this wet?” Jaehyun continued his ministration on you, adding another finger inside you while he kisses you on the lips. You felt him retract his fingers away and you were about to protest when you felt him lift your shirt just below your chin, your mounds completely in view and ready to be played with. His hands went back on your thighs as he separated your left leg from the other, urging you to open your legs more. His fingers are back on your clit, drawing small circles that made you clenching on nothing. Jaehyun frowned when he felt your walls incredibly tight when he inserted two fingers at a time. “Baby, so fucking tight.”

Jaehyun throws his shirt over his head and helped you undress, completely impatient, and you tried palming him just to get a reaction. You heard him grunt lowly, shocked at how big he is when Jaehyun got rid of all the clothing. “That won’t fit on me.”

“Where’s your casual bravado at?” he asks as he pulls you to his lap. You look anywhere but him as your cheeks started to flush. “Don’t tell me— are you a virgin?” you nod your head at him as you felt his cock stood out more to the revelation. “Fuck, well take it slow, baby.” Jaehyun guided you to his lap as you ride him, moving your hips as you coat his dick with your juices. You have your bottom lip trap between your teeth as you let his dick slide in your pussy’s lips. Feeling embarrassed but desperate you tried to push yourself back to meet his hips as you whine with the newfound sensations. You look so lewd above him riding his cock as your tits bounce from your movements, your eyes start to water from the thrill Jaehyun gives you. “I need to hear you.” Jaehyun pushes the messy strands of hair that frames your face.

You moan at the feeling of his veiny cock sliding in between your pussy’s lips. He hums, pleased with your sounds around him, and rewards you by inserting his fingers all the way inside you, the numbers doing wonders and stinging you a bit, but it still felt better than having to clench at nothing. Jaehyun marks you up all over your neck and just above your mounds, flesh to flesh as you moan for him. He pumps his fingers in and out of you as you ride his cock continuously. He gathers you in his arms and lays you on your back, pulling your thighs against your chest, keeping your legs spread as he pushes inside you slowly, grunting. “I wasn’t planning on putting it inside, but you just feel so fucking good.”

You cried at the stretch, slowly tearing you apart as he moves inch by inch just to be inside you fully. When he’s all the way inside of you, his breath leaves him in a shaky sigh, and he takes a couple of moments for the both of you before he started moving. You know Jaehyun was holding back, as he focusses on your breast as they bounce up and down in a humiliating manner as he pushes into you slowly for his liking, while his hands keep your legs spread wide for him, you felt embarrassed and humiliated with the way you’re positioned under him, but you can’t help every moan that escapes you as it started to feel amazing more than a while ago. The sting you felt was gone and all you can think is the pleasure that he gives you.

“Fuck, you’re tightening up.” You turn your head to the side, trying to bury your face in the pillows around you as you hide your face from him, but Jaehyun doesn’t allow it, he bends down— his upper body draped over you, his face mere inched from yours, the new positions has his right hand pulling your right leg further upwards, thigh pressing harder against your chest. “Say it, baby. I need to hear you.” His gaze pierces through you, ordering more than asking you to obey him, and you find him looking sexier as he looks even as his skin glistens and how some strands of his hair started to stick over his forehead.

Docilely and submissive, you answered him. “I- I want to cum, please.” You sounded so lewd; you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. His gaze doesn’t free yours as his hips started to pick up the pace. “Do you know how hot you look right now? Spread out on my bed with nothing but my cock in you? fuck, fuck.” You started clenching around him as he put his thumb on your clit, drawing circles as you cry out his name in ecstasy.

He fucks you through your orgasm, grunting as your walls get even tighter, making it harder for him to keep on moving inside of you but that made him ravish you more with fervor. Your orgasm feels like it will never end as he drags it out in order to reach his own high, finally, his hips stutter as he pulls out of you and pumps his dick more as he comes in your stomach and breasts.

When he was done, he moves away from you and walks to the bathroom, you heard the faucet running and Jaehyun came out with a wet, warm towel in his hands and uses it to clean up the mess the two of you made. When he’s done, he tosses it to the side and scoops you in his arms, covering both of your naked bodies with his blanket that smells like him. He had you trap in his arms and sure it felt good to be treated like this, the feeling new to you.

“Sleep, let’s not think about what happened for now.” He murmured and you agree. “I’m sorry.” You heard him say. You look up at him and see different emotions flickers in his eyes. “Honestly, I’ve seen this coming, I’m not usually like this but I always find myself fucking my rules just to be with you.” Jaehyun pulls you closer to him. “That’s because you liked me.” He told you before you drifted off to sleep for the second time.

The next morning, Jaehyun give you a ride home, you— being awfully quiet after realizing everything that happened when you saw the bloodstains in his bedsheets that morning. You didn’t utter a word throughout the ride, reality downing to you one by one. Did you just sleep with a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend in the first place? When you got in the comforts of your home you smack your head for the stupidity. You knew how boys can be, and you just give Jaehyun the chance to have his way with you easily without a fight.

When a day passed by without seeing even a shadow of Jaehyun, you sent him a message asking what was he doing. You waited for hours but you didn’t get a reply from him that day. You’ve been overthinking things and didn’t have the energy to be productive at all, you tried calling him but he wasn’t answering at all. The next day came and you checked your phone for any notification from him but there was none, you were about to get up when you heard a car honking in front of your house— you walk towards your window and there, you saw Jung Jaehyun, standing beside his car in your front yard, smiling up at you with his hands tucked inside his jean’s pockets. You ignore the raging butterflies in your stomach and hide the blush creeping in your cheeks with your hair as you give him a bashful smile in return.

When you came down after washing up and getting ready for school, you kissed your mom goodbye saying you’re skipping breakfast and will just eat out in the café next to the University. You run to Jaehyun, his arms open and ready to catch you in his arms— and you embrace him. “Haven’t heard from you yesterday.” You push your self a little away from him to see a smile playing at his lips. “I miss you too.” He answered and for some reason, cat got your tongue.

“It’s still early, do you want to eat out?” Jaehyun asked you when you both settle down inside his car and you nod your head after checking your wristwatch, you still have two hours to kill before your classes start, it’s Tuesday, so the both of you are packed up with your chef’s uniforms in your bags.

“I hate cooking.” You tell no one in particular as Jaehyun started to drive away, “But you’re the top in our department.” you only give him a glance as you relax your body.

When you arrived at the café next to your University, it was still spacious as it was still early, most of the time students would fill the room up, studying or just talking with their peers. You both settle down on the booth next to the window— Jaehyun, ever the gentlemen ordering and buying you your food. “Jaehyun, I really appreciate you spending your money on me, but next time let me pay for my own food.” You say when he came back with a tray of pastries and coffees in his hands. “Why?” he asked.

“Because it’s your money, and we’re still students you know, we shouldn’t spend recklessly.” Jaehyun was bewildered by what you said and it was clearly written on his face. “Why?” you asked scared that you might say something wrong. “It’s just that, I was used to spending money for her even if I get to eat nothing as long as she gets hers.” He says. You felt horrified after hearing that. “No way, if you ran out of money, you say it and I’m going to pay for us, all right?”

“You sure you haven’t been in relationships?” there was a bashful smile playing at Jaehyun’s face, “No, it’s called basic manners, Jung Jaehyun.” You laughed at him. “So, I haven’t heard from you at all yesterday.” You watched as Jaehyun sipped at his iced americano— nodding at you as if you’ve stated the obvious.

“I ended everything with her, what she said doesn’t really sit on me right. I didn’t take her to be that hypocrite in the first place.” Jaehyun started. So, he was with her last night, you think, but not in the way that you think, he meets with her to cut and finish everything between them. “I just hate that every time we fought, she would always turn the tables around, guilt tripping me so I can admit that I’m wrong when she also has her mistakes in the first place. Don’t think that this happened because of you, it started happening before you even came, I don’t want you to beat yourself thinking that you ruined my relationship with her, because in the first place there’s no relationship between us.” You nod your head and all you can do is listen.

“Do you regret everything that has been happening?” you asked as you hear your heart beating rapidly inside your chest, you look at him and he did the same. “No. You happened unexpectedly, but no, I don’t regret you.” you fought the tears away, feeling the warmth and comfort inside, this has never happened to you, someone choosing you over anything, and you can’t help but tear up.

“Why are you crying? It’s not me who’s choosing you but you’re the one who is choosing me. If you haven’t noticed a lot of guys wants to be with you, so I’m really grateful that you liked me instead.” Jaehyun wiped the tears that threatening to fall down your check and pulling you close in his arms after. You put your head in his arms, everything feels surreal and if ever you are dreaming you don’t want to wake up anymore. “I really like you,Y/n.” you look up to him laughing as you cry harder, all this baggage and walls gone because of one person.

That was the start of your relationship with Jung Jaehyun, all those crazy days and nights with him, long drives and Friday nights, eating and pigging out with him, he knows you more than the back of his hands, he knows that you get moody every month, he knew about your introverted ass, he knows that you can be basic and simple at times— you don’t expect too much of him and he does the same with you, on your first year of being together, you introduced Jaehyun to your whole family on your reunion day and they instantly love him— specially your brother and cousins. They enjoyed talking to him, and you’re honestly surprised at how welcoming you parents are to him, asking him to sleep over, Jaehyun and your brother having the same interest, playing computer games until the sun rises, His mother sending a box full of apples to your mother because he mentions that it’s your mom’s favorite.

Sometimes you get scared of breaking up with him, fighting isn’t something that the both of you can avoid, there are times the you just want to strangle him to death, but that makes everything real, being jealous and having make up sex, all those time the both of you fight for something trivial, those moments make your relationship stronger. And now you’ve been with him for the past 4 years, going steady and strong.

“Babe, you ready?” you both settle down on his car, you just finish your final exams for this week, you and Jaehyun are up for a 2 hour long drive to get to your vacation house, most of your family are already there since this morning and the both of you have to finish your exams and classes first before joining them, you nod your head at him as he pull his jacket over his head and handing it you. Jaehyun knows that you get easily cold but you don’t want to turn the heater up and make him suffer as he tends to sweat a lot, that leads you to having his hoodies stack up in your closet.

“You have to cut your smoking off you know it’s not good for your health.” You say as you saw him scratch the back of his neck, a freshly lit stick in his mouth, when the both of you started going out you have seen him smoke a couple of times to the point that it got you curious and tried it, you have been smoking in the past but you cut it off as it was unhealthy. Jaehyun on the other hand finds it hard. “old habits die hard.” He told you once.

“You got to compromise, baby.” Jaehyun blew the smoke outside— his window rolled down and one hand on the stirring wheel, you got to admit though, your boyfriend looked hot. “Fine, what do you suggest?”

“Marry me after we graduate.” Your head snap back to look at him, as you waited for him to laugh and say that he was joking. Jaehyun throw the cigar outside reaching for the rubbing alcohol to clean his hands, you tend to hate the smell that clings to his hands whenever he smokes. You were awfully quiet, shocked at what he said, and you found yourself caught in your thoughts.

“If you promise to be with me forever, until the day that our hair turns white, then I promise to cut my smoking off.” He smiled at you, reaching for your hands that was placed in your lap as he pulls it closer to his mouth to give it some kisses. You can’t really say anything as tears started to fall one by one, you we’re just so happy that he thinks of being together with you for that long. “I know I’ve done so many things that disappoints you, but you still choose to be with me, and for that, I’m really grateful. So, I’m asking you this right now, I know we still have to graduate and we still have a long way ahead of us. And I would still have to buy you the most beautiful ring in the world. What I can give you right know is my hopeful words— promising you that I would be faithful and love you until the end, so are you going to say yes?” he asks while holding your hand.

“Yes.” the both of you laughed at the situation as you reach out to kiss him in the cheeks. “Babe! Stay seated or will get into an accident” he shouts but laughs with you.

You definitely don’t regret falling in love with Jung Jaehyun.

Fin

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #NCTU #nct127 #nctdream #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #jaehyun college smut #wayv #nct2020 #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #nct agnst #nct fluff

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utilitycaster · 4 years ago

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This is going to be long and also not terribly well-edited or organized as I want to post it now but also want to watch The Unsleeping City in 45 minutes. Anyway welcome to why I have really loved Caduceus in the post-hiatus times especially, and particularly in Eiselcross, and how I think missing the mark with Caleb is a brilliant choice, and some thoughts about religion in D&D. Obviously everything I say is subjective and a reading of the text so to speak but the religion part will dip into my own projections so like...especially subjective.

Caduceus has, from the start, always been a unique and necessary perspective within the Mighty Nein, and he’s a voice that’s both desperately needed within the group while having many of his own limitations.

I’ve always shied away from the therapist interpretation. I think that’s to an extent how Caduceus sees himself at times - in fact, I think part of his current arc is that he’s starting to move away from that idea of himself - but the fact is he’s not actually in that role. No one really is and that’s a good thing; found family slash sort of coworkers is a good place to find a confidant, but for a capital-T Therapist you need someone outside that circle.

I’ve mentioned in passing a few times that while I get why some people, and especially ex-Catholics, find a lot of resonance with Essek, my own experience with religion maps incredibly well onto Caduceus. I grew up Jewish and moderately religious, and went to a Jewish school until high school and having most of my social circle within that community. And as most religious minorities can attest, there is a sense of one’s religion being tied up with familial duty or responsibility and dueling pressures to and to not assimilate. I still find a lot of meaning in some religious practices and still practice many of them, but I’ve definitely changed a lot of those practices due to my experiences in high school and especially college, sometimes for good reasons (ie, “this is not in line with the values I’m finding within myself as I gain experience in the world and engage with new perspectives”) and sometimes for more neutral/selfish ones (ie, “I don’t want to go to services on Friday night, I want to go out drinking with my friends.”) Caduceus is a cleric and has a personal relationship with his deity and I don’t think it’s at all in his nature to abandon that, but I think it is a relationship that is changing, and I can say from personal experience that’s even if it’s for the better, even if it’s an evolution rather than a rejection, changing traditions you were raised in because of the outside world is not easy. Anyway, I see a lot of my college self in Caduceus and what he’s going through now, and it is a very quiet and internal struggle but still an important and difficult one.

More generally, while Caduceus is young for a firbolg, he’s still got 80-100 years of experience with the life he once led and probably thought he’d lead for his entire life. His family ventured out, but as far as I can tell, always in the direct service of the Wildmother. Caduceus fulfilled that when he rescued his family. It’s no surprise that he’s felt a little adrift since then. Indeed I think he felt a little uncertain at various other points too - certainly when the party stole a boat in Nicodranas, and he indicated at various other times that he’d had doubts - and that has got to mess with the fact that he had those doubts even while he was on a mission for his family, given to him by his goddess. He apologized to his parents for wanting to continue adventuring, even though they were fully supportive of his decisions.

I’ve already talked about Caduceus changing in Eiselcross especially - finding other things out in the world that were perhaps not directly given to him by the Wildmother but which still could use his help, and changing some of his approaches as a cleric. He admitted to Lucien that he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be doing at this time, and again, that’s a really hard place to be, especially for someone like Caduceus. I am really excited to see how his experiences in Eiselcross and beyond change him.

Back to the limited perspective and his words to Caleb: one thing Caduceus has always excelled at is a sort of...kind disregard for politics. I think some of it is just not having the inclination or taste for mind games, which tend to require both a certain intricacy and a good amount of deception, neither of which Caduceus is good at nor likes. This has often served the party well - Caduceus was the one who got them to involve the Dynasty when the Laughing Hand got out, and he might be the one who is willing to pull in Essek despite others’ doubts. But there is a benefit to politics; there’s telling someone only what they want to hear, which can often be bad, but there is an element of telling people what they should hear in a way in which it will be received, and I don’t know if he’s mastered that either. An unique perspective is valuable, but it’s still only one perspective.

I suspect Caduceus’s feelings towards Caleb are more complex than “turn that frown upside down” (and in general what people say on Talks is going to be ooc, in modern and fairly casual terms, etc) but I also think he may be approaching Caleb from a grief counselor perspective, when trauma is a much different thing, and he may be ascribing intent where, as was said on Talks, this is just there in Caleb whether or not he wants it. And I think this is a great character choice from Taliesin (I really do hope he’s on Talks in two weeks)! Why would a cleric of mourning and how death affects the living have an extensive knowledge of Caleb’s experiences? He wouldn’t! I should note I think Caduceus’s advice has often been very good - towards Fjord as Fjord was reaching out to the Wildmother, and to Beau and Veth in the conversation after the hag encounter especially - and those were conversations about things like religious faith and familial relationships and one’s place on the world, which are things Caduceus has experience with or is going through himself.

I feel like I’ve called characters foils a whole lot now and I don’t think it even fits entirely here, but it is fascinating to contrast Caleb and Caduceus, one of whom has drastically changed his path multiple times, willingly and unwillingly, and one of whom is in the midst of great and unclear change. I think they have more in common than they necessarily believe, and I absolutely think Caduceus’s intentions have always been good, just lacking in some understanding (which I also think Veth and Beau have at times gotten wrong too, in different ways). But Caleb is someone who has understandable difficulty talking about his past, and Caduceus is someone who doesn’t always quite realize if he’s off the mark, and I don’t know if they will resolve this, because neither is in the wrong.

One of my favorite things about both campaigns of Critical Role but especially this one is how interestingly and believably characters misunderstand each other. It was one of my favorite things about the twins in Campaign 1, and it’s been a throughline among many different characters in Campaign 2. Like, if I say I think a PC is misunderstanding someone else, there is an unspoken “and I think that’s fascinating and I want to know what happens next”, and the fact that he’s only just realizing how much he’s changed and how much he might change and expand his horizons is one of my favorite things about Caduceus.

#critical role #caduceus clay #long post #not to continue in the tags (jk always to continue in the tags) but flaws are why i like characters!#this is exceptionally true for caduceus and beau - their very specific perspectives and difficulty changing them is why I love them #a perfect character is boring #and while taliesin has said caduceus was created to be static...i don't think he is static! because static is boring to me!#i think he's someone who thought he was static and the outside world said: bet. and it's phenomenal and i love it.

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transmissionsfromthebattlefield · 2 years ago

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Will Short Skirts Be Allowed?

It’s really great that, once again, society is proving that it doesn’t give one shit about the rights of human beings. Maybe I shouldn’t got those two sweet, sweet pairs of perfectly fitting, low-rise pants the other day. Maybe I should have instead capitulated to literally any other pair of pants in the tri-state area, all of which ranged from “high rise” to “super high rise,” the latter of which I didn’t even know was a thing until a few weeks ago. I’d assume such conservative garments will be more acceptable once our American Taliban really takes control around here. Will we all be required to wear those ugly button flies in the future to keep any midriff from showing? Will skinny jeans be deemed too show-y, and will ‘mom jeans’ be the soup du jour from those trying to skirt the burqa? At least there won’t be any more of those dumb factory-ripped holes.

Not that only the female will be effected or is being effected by recent events. The Supreme Court’s ruling on Roe v. Wade may appear on the surface to be one that only effects one half of the country’s population—thee uterus-owners, thee whatever. In reality, considering how same sex relations, birth control, and desegregated schools now sit neatly in the court’s crosshairs after their big hit on Friday, it effects each and every American. Hell, it effects each and every person on this planet, considering the similar, anti-bodily autonomy pressure the Catholic church also has on countries like Poland. It effects anyone under the thumb of an oppressive and fundamentalist ruling class who just wants to live without said ruling class poking its nose in their business. That’s pretty much all of us, as much as some of us would like to deny it. It’s easier to succumb to the religious right’s reigning propaganda schemes—or to deflect the blame onto the entire male species, on the other side of the oversimplified political spectrum—than to unpack the weaving, intertwining tentacles of church and state in modern America. It’s easier to accept the reality of sending unwanted children to school in bulletproof backpacks and crossing your fingers, than trying to change that reality—especially when the so-called ‘representatives’ who promised to change that reality for you failed miserably at their one job.

As someone used to humans being the most awful and abhorrent creatures walking the planet, the weirdest thing about times like this is how much the world stays the same. I went out for sushi with my family for dinner Friday night, and it was definitively the best meal out I’d had in recent memory. I wasn’t turned away from dining out due to my new low rise pants or my feminine wiles. It doesn’t look like I’ll be turned away from higher education in the already parasitic, sinister Buckeye State any time soon either, despite the likeliness of said state to crack down on abortion rights coming up. It’s a strange crossroads to be standing on trying to sow tiny sparks of hope for your personal steps forwards while society around you is chronically and rapidly regressing with the highest hopes of taking you down with it. But with studies on the horizon and the resurrected Kent State SDS on my side, I guess I won’t be fleeing the country any time soon.

What’s with all this country business anyway? All it does is fuel ugly jingoism in the first place. And if the systematically defined borders around my place of residence define my or anybody else’s ability to legally be a fully autonomous human being capable of exercising freedom to the fullest, safest extent, I just wish we’d consider some truly universal healthcare.

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kaylaxwrites · 4 years ago

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Catch the Wind

Pairing: Matt Murdock/reader Words: 7.2k Summary: You like Matt. You’re pretty sure he likes you too. Then why does he say no when you ask? What is he hiding and why won’t Foggy tell you?Request: “How about an old friend of Foggy and Matt, who has this will they won’t they thing with Matt and she finally tries to act on it for her only to get turned down by him. His decision was because he is too focused on being Daredevil and doesn’t want her to be swept up in that so they decide to be friends, but it takes a strain on her relationship with Matt but also with Foggy too. Then like decide where it should go from there” (anon) A/N: decided to put this all in one part at an attempt for more notes lol

For me to love you now Would be the sweetest thing T'would make me sing Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind

“Catch the Wind” - Donovan

You had been best friends with Matt Murdock for nearly as long as you could remember. As the longest—and oldest—resident of Saint Agnes Orphanage, you had been assigned to show Matt around when he first arrived after his father’s death.

You quietly knocked on the open doorframe. The boy inside sniffled and quickly wiped away his tears before turning towards you. “Come in,” he said, never meeting your eyes. At first, you assumed he was embarrassed to be caught crying.

“Nice glasses,” you offered, hoping to draw his attention away from the death of his parents—or whatever happened to his family that led him here.

The boy pushed the glasses higher up on his nose. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

You stepped across the room and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “You must be special. Sister Anne would never let me wear sunglasses inside.”

“Oh, they’re…not really…sunglasses.”

He spoke so quietly, you didn’t really make out what he said. So you continued talking anyway. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Matt Murdock.”

You stuck your hand out for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Matt Murdock.” You froze awkwardly as the kid made no motion to shake your hand. But then you put everything together—his dark glasses, the way he never met your eyes, the cane you were now noticing against the wall—he was blind. And you were an idiot. “I’m, uh, holding out my hand for you to shake.”

“Oh, sorry.”

At last, you shook hands, and you tried not to let the awkwardness sink in. “Um, so Sister Maggie told me to show you around. Do you want to go?” Matt nodded and stood, collecting his cane off the wall. You stood as well, unsure of yourself. “I’ve given this tour a dozen times to newbies, but never to a blind guy. How does this work? Do we hold hands or…?” You quickly shut your mouth. Obviously, you wouldn’t be holding hands—why would you hold hands with a stranger?

“No,” Matt chuckled. “Just give me your elbow.”

“Oh, sure.” You did as Matt said and led him out to the hallway. “I don’t know if they told you, but your room is the third one on the right. You must be lucky. You got a single room. Most of us have to share.” You directed Matt down the stairs until you were on the first floor. “We can’t go in now because they’re setting up for dinner, but the dining hall is here on the left. Breakfast is at 7 on weekdays, 8 on weekends, and dinner is always at 6.” You led Matt further down the hall and out the door. You stepped into a small, sunlit courtyard.

“This is the way to the church,” you continued explaining. “I don’t know if you’re Catholic, but you’re gonna be here real soon.” You stopped in front of the doors to the church, but didn’t go inside. “We’re required to go to Mass Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings, as well as the weekly Mass school gives.”

“School?”

“Yeah, Saint Agnes also runs a school on the other side of the block. It’s where we all go.”

“So I won’t be able to go to my old school anymore?”

You sighed. Newbies always had a hard time finding out they’d no longer be attending school with their friends. “No. Sorry.” His face fell. “But! I think we’re in the same grade, so we should have some classes together. I remember when I was the new kid, but, hey—you already got one friend. It shouldn’t be too bad.”

“What friend?”

You nudged his shoulder. “Me, doofus.”

Matt smiled softly at you and from that moment on, you were thick as thieves.

As you grew, you slowly realized you probably had more-than-friends feelings for Matt, but you never spoke about them out loud, nor did you dwell on them very often. Matt was your best friend—your only friend—and you didn’t want that to change. So you locked the butterflies in your stomach down tight and shoved those feelings in the back of your brain. It didn’t help that as you neared graduating high school, everyone thought you were dating. You even caught the nuns who worked the orphanage whispering sometimes about how wonderful the two of you would look married—as if things would ever get that far.

When you went to college, your pool of friends expanded by one: Matt’s roommate, Foggy. Foggy quickly became your other best friend—since you were around Matt all the time, it made sense that you and Foggy would be close as well. In fact, it was to Foggy one drunken night when you confessed your feelings for Matt for the first time.

You and Foggy stumbled back to campus after a night out on the town. You, Foggy, and alcohol were never a good mix—you always tried to drink the other under the table until neither of you could stand upright. You leaned against each other for support as Foggy fumbled with his keys to the dorm. You laughed loudly when he dropped them and fell trying to pick them up, but he quickly shushed you. “Shhhhh. Matt’s trying to study,” he slurred, trying and failing to whisper quietly. Matt said he couldn’t go out with the two of you that night because he had a test on Monday morning.

You made a zipping motion over your mouth, but giggled again as you watched Foggy unlock the door. He was on his knees, the doorknob at eye level, as he concentrated on putting the key in the lock as a surgeon would make an incision. He fell on his stomach when the door finally swung open. You leaped over him as soon as you could, eager to see Matt and annoy him to stop studying.

But the room was empty.

You turned to Foggy (finally standing), almost pouting. “Maybe he had to go to the library?” he offered. You shrugged, and then collapsed onto Matt’s bed. You weren’t sure your legs would hold you up any longer.

Foggy puttered around the room, trying to drunkenly change clothes, as you snuggled into Matt’s pillow. You closed your eyes to stop the world from spinning, but that made you realize how tired you were. “You know,” you yawned, almost half asleep now, “I think that girl at the bar really liked you.”

“Who? The pink shirt?”

You nodded into the pillow. “Yeah, she kept looking at you and smiling.”

“Huh.”

You peeked open one eye to stare at him. “Are you not going to ask me why I didn’t act as your wing woman?”

Foggy’s cheeks flushed. “Uh, no, that’s okay.” His voice was higher pitched than usual. What was he trying to hide? If you could move your limbs, you would have crossed the room to stare him down. As it was, you tried to be as intimidating as you could with your face half squished in a pillow.

“Who do you like?” you asked after a moment, finally coming to the conclusion that he must have a crush on someone.

“No one. Who do you like?” he countered.

“I’ll answer if you answer.”

He stared at you for a moment before flopping back on his bed. “You know the girl from my study group?”

You quickly sat up, instantly regretting it as the room—and your stomach—swirled uncomfortably. But you pushed it aside. “Marci Stahl? You like Marci?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Ooh, I am so going to have to tell her.”

“Don’t!” Foggy quickly turned to face you.

“Why not? I already know she likes you.”

“She does?”

“Um, yeah, it’s obvious.” That, and she sat with you at lunch one day and had asked about him.

“Cool,” he sighed happily, laying back down. You huffed a laugh, surprised that was all he had to say. You slumped back into Matt’s bed, eyes drifting closed. You were almost asleep when Foggy called you out on your promise. “Who do you like?”

You froze. You tried to search for a fake name, but the copious amounts of alcohol you had this evening meant you couldn’t think of one. So you sighed and figured you might as well say it. Foggy wouldn’t tell, right? And it was probably best you got it out of your system. “Uh…Matt?” you said quietly. You weren’t even sure if Foggy heard you.

But he did, and after a moment’s silence, he asked, “Have you told him?”

“Definitely not. I didn’t want to mess anything up between us and now…”

“Elektra,” Foggy finished for you.

It seemed Matt had been hanging out with Elektra more than you and Foggy lately. You tried not to let it get to you. Matt was allowed to have other friends, after all—even girlfriends—but something about her gave you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t put your finger on the feeling or why it was there, but it worried you nonetheless.

“You won’t tell him, will you?” you asked. But Foggy was already asleep.

You were pretty sure Foggy kept this secret over the years, as Matt never once mentioned it to you. Or he was so drunk he forgot about it. That, or Matt similarly thought you should just be friends and never brought it up himself. Either was okay with you.

But now your feelings were somehow growing and you were ready for things to change.

You were hanging out at Matt’s apartment—you always did, every Friday. It was tradition. The two of you were tucked into opposite ends of the couch, watching random things on your laptop. You described what was happening whenever an audio description wasn’t available. But it had been several minutes since you last spoke. Matt hadn’t dozed off, like you originally believed, but he was lost in thought. You tried not to disturb him, thinking he was planning his opening for a case or something like that.

But the three glasses of wine in your system had other plans.

You slowly slid across the middle of the couch until you were inches away, thighs nearly touching. Matt gave no indication that he noticed you. “Hey, Matt?” you whispered after a few moments of silence. His head tilted towards you, indicating that he was listening, but he said nothing. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” he replied. He turned his body to face you, realizing from the tone of your voice, you guessed, that this was serious.

“I-I—uh…” you began. You heart pounded. What even were words? “Ilikeyou,” you finally breathed in one rush of words.

“I like you too.”

Your heart constricted. “More than friends, I mean.”

“I know.”

What? Your brain froze. You couldn’t comprehend. You were expected Matt to laugh you off, Matt to turn you down, Matt to do anything but that. “You—you do?” Matt nodded. “Then why…why didn’t you say anything?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He was smiling at you.

“I didn’t want to change anything. Between us. But I told Foggy once in college… I think maybe part of me thought he wouldn’t be able to keep his big mouth shut.”

“Oh, he told me.”

Your eyes widened. “He did? Oh, I’m gonna kill him.” You sprung from the couch, searching for your phone. But Matt stopped you with a hand around your wrist.

“Hey, it’s fine.” He pulled you back to sit next to him. Your thighs were pressed against one another. “I thought you wanted him to spill.”

“A bigger part of me wanted him to forget. We were really drunk that night.”

Matt’s thumb moved to rub circles on the inside of your wrist. Goosebumps raised on your skin. “I remember.” You were surprised he did. But you guessed maybe it was hard to forget the time your best friend told your other best friend that they liked you. Even if you weren’t there. You were sure Foggy gave him all the details.

Matt continued to rub circles into your skin and it was hard to think about much else. Your eyes raised to meet his. You sighed. His eyes were so gorgeous. You wished he didn’t hide them behind his glasses all the time, but you understood. Even then, you wished you could stare into his eyes all day.

Your gaze flicked down to his mouth. Before you knew it, your lips were pressed into his. He froze for a second, not returning the kiss, and you panicked. But before you could pull away, his hand was on the side of your face, pulling you closer. As your lips crashed into one another, you regretted not doing this sooner. He was an amazing kisser.

As things delved deeper, you turned to press your body tightly against his. You threw one leg across his lap and eased him back against the back of the couch. Your hands roamed—through his hair, over his shoulder, down his arms, across his chest. But when you brushed across his ribs, he gasped in pain and pulled back. You instantly sprung off of him.

“Oh, my god, are you okay?” you asked. “What happened?” You knew Matt somehow amassed a large collection of bruises and broken bones—he was just clumsy, he’d tell you ever since they started appearing in your teens. But you weren’t so sure. You’d never even seen Matt stumble once. You slapped Matt’s hands away as you reached for the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his ribcage.

Blue bruises stood in stark contrast to his skin, surrounded by cuts and scratches of various depths. He winced when your fingers ghosted across the widest bruise—was a rib broken? Several other injuries trailed around his side and you figured his back was in similar shape.

“What happened?” you demanded once more. “Have you gone to the doctor? Were you mugged? Did you call the police?”

Matt’s hands landed on your shoulders to stop your barrage of questions. “I’m fine,” he said, but he gave no further explanation.

“That’s not fine, Matt.”

“I saw a nurse. It’s nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief. But you were still left with so many questions. “Who did this to you? What happened?”

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it’s handled. They won’t be bothering anyone else.”

“That’s good,” you sighed. You wanted to ask more questions, but you knew Matt was being purposefully vague. Why wouldn’t he tell you what happened? Why didn’t he tell you that he was hurt? You wanted to press him more, but you knew Matt was as stubborn as a bull and there was no way you’d get any more information out of him. Tonight, at least. So you decided to distract yourself with the other question filling your head. “So…what about us?”

“We can’t.” Matt’s answer was immediate. No hesitation.

You felt as if a horse had kicked you in the chest. Your breath was knocked out of you. “What?”

“I…we can’t. There’s too many things going on and I can’t risk it.”

“What’s going on? You can tell me—you can always come to me. You know you can.”

Matt hung his head, leaning over his knees. “I can’t.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears. Matt always came to you. You practically told each other everything. Had you messed things up by confessing your feelings?

“Does it have to do with your bruises?” you said softly.

Matt didn’t reply.

You stared at him, searching for words to say, begging for him to say something. But each of you remained silent.

Nothing.

“I have to go,” you said at last. You scrambled to throw on your shoes and gather your things.

Your heart shattered when Matt made no move to stop you.

“Do you know what’s going on with Matt?” you asked Foggy, pushing your food around with your fork. The two of you were at your favorite diner for your regular biweekly lunches.

“Uh, no. What do you mean?” Foggy’s eyes instantly darted out of the window. He fiddled with his hands. Foggy may be a lawyer, but you had known him long enough to know he knew exactly what was going on.

“I was at his place the other night and he had these bruises…” You gestured over your ribcage, indicating where Matt’s bruises were located.

“Oh. He probably fell down the stairs again. You know Matt.” Foggy chuckled nervously. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hummed skeptically. You stared Foggy down. Once or twice, he would glance up at you, but his gaze fluttered away when he realized you were still staring. The waitress brought your checks over and he fumbled getting his money out of his wallet and struggled with gathering his things. Before he could get up and leave, you spoke his name, forcing him to look at you. “Foggy. What’s going on with Matt?”

“Nothing, I swear—”

“Foggy.”

He looked at you and sighed. You were hoping he realized you wouldn’t back down. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

“He promised me not to.”

“Is he in some sort of secret blind Fight Club?”

“If only.”

You reached across the table to grab Foggy’s arms. You leaned towards him. If your college days taught you anything, you might be able to puppy-dog-eye your way to get what you want. “Foggy. Is he in trouble?” you said slowly, quietly.

He turned his head, looking away, as if to find somebody who would rescue him from your gaze. But there was no one. “Y/N, I…I really can’t do this.” His voice was weak. “I can’t tell you.” He pulled free from your grasp, standing and walking away from you. “I’ll see you next week,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the building.

You sat back in your seat, resting heavily against the booth. What was going on? There was nothing, nothing that they had hidden from you before.

At least…not that you knew of.

So why were they hiding this?

You ignored their texts and calls over the next couple of days. You were angry that they were keeping things from you. You were upset that Matt had rejected your feelings just like that, so easily. Your emotions overwhelmed you and you weren’t sure how to process them—so you just ignored them.

After about a week of the silent treatment, they sent Karen over to your apartment one night. She carried your favorite takeout in her hands as a bribe. You took it, of course, but you weren’t happy about it.

“They’re worried about you,” Karen said once the two of you were sat at your table, food dished out in front of you.

You speared a vegetable with a little too much force. “Yeah, well, they wouldn’t have to be if they would just tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m sure they have good reason.”

“You didn’t see the state Matt was in. Something big is going on.”

“Matt said he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he was mugged and they don’t want to tell you so you’re not worried?”

“I wish that was the case.” You turned to face her. “How are you so calm about this? I mean, don’t you think something’s up?”

“I talked to him a few days ago and…he’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. With Matt’s stubbornness, he wouldn’t tell you anything until the information leaked on its own. You’d have to wear down Foggy or…

Karen sighed. She could tell she wasn’t going to be able to get through to you. She decided to change the subject before you could rant any more.

“Seen anything good on Netflix lately?” she offered and the two of you made small talk for the rest of the evening.

A few days later, you were cursing yourself as you were backed into an alleyway. How could you be so stupid? You dropped your guard walking home for one minute and look where it got you. You knew to always be aware of your surroundings, so why did you stop to check the notification on your phone? Just one cute video sent from a friend of her dog and you were about to be robbed of your belongings…or worse.

You tried to form an escape plan—or at least a get-out-alive plan—but your brain was short-circuiting. You nearly shrieked when a dark mass seemingly fell from the sky. Your heart sped faster. Was this man an accomplice to your attacker? Would you now have to face two men to get out of this alley?

But you breathed a small sigh of relief as the man rose from his crouched position on the concrete. You had seen enough pictures in the Bulletin to recognize that this was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. In the flesh. Right here in front of you.

The masked man took only one step forward but it was enough to send your would-be attacker running for the hills. The masked man cocked his head to the side, listening for a moment, before turning to face you. “Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was comforting, like an old friend.

You let out a shaky breath. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” You crossed your arms in an effort to hide your trembling hands. “I wish I knew all it took to scare someone away was to wear a mask. Maybe I’ll start carrying one around.”

The man smiled, small but tense. “If only that’s all it took.”

You glanced awkwardly around the alley, unsure of what to say next. “I, um, thank you?” You cleared your throat. “Thank you,” you tried again. “I…I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.” You tried to clamp down on your wandering thoughts, but it was hard to stop the flashes of possibilities in your brain.

“Is there anyone you could call to come get you?”

Matt. Foggy. Karen. But you still didn’t feel like reaching out to any of them just yet. You shook your head. “No. My apartment’s just two blocks away, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. I’m just a little shaken, but I can make it. Thank you.”

The man hesitated a moment longer, seeming to check that you would actually be all right, before scaling the nearby fire escape in leaps and bounds until he disappeared in shadow. You took a moment to collect yourself before stepping out into the warm light of a streetlamp. You hesitantly made your way home, skittish and jumping at every little noise. You sighed a breath of relief when the deadbolt of your front door finally slid closed.

Even though you were on the fifth floor, you went around your apartment, checking that every window was locked and secured. You pulled the blinds closed for good measure. You froze when you spotted a figure crouched on the fire escape across the street, but smiled as you realized it was the masked man, seeing you safely home. Despite the evening’s events, you felt safe knowing the masked man was protecting the city.

You spotted the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen several more times over the next few weeks. You would catch glimpses of him on your walk home, spot him in shadows from out your window, heard the stories of those he saved. It was comforting, knowing he was out there. You didn’t think his persistent presence would one day turn against you.

You awoke in the middle of the night to a noise in your apartment. You laid still, ears searching for another sound. You relaxed when you heard none after a few minutes. Maybe your neighbor just dropped something, you thought. You closed your eyes and tried to fall back asleep. You tensed again at the sound of fabric rustling, realizing after a moment it was just your window curtains in the breeze. What had you so jumpy tonight? You had seen the masked man just this evening, keeping watch over the block. You knew nothing was going to happen…

You were nearly asleep when a hand clamped over your mouth and nose.

You were dazed and confused when your eyes finally fluttered open. You weren’t in your bed—had you fallen asleep working at the kitchen table again? You moved to stretch your arms and back, but something tugged tight at your wrists. You glanced down with groggy eyes to find a neatly knotted rope around each arm. You kicked your legs to find that they were similarly bound.

In an instant, your sleepy mind flashed to full clarity.

Not good. This was definitely not good.

Your eyes focused just ahead of you. Across a small wooden table was a well-dressed man with dark hair. He was sitting casually, almost lazily, with one leg draped across the arm of his chair. He was twirling a knife idly in his right hand and barely glanced at you when he spoke. “Finally awake?”

“Where am I?” you responded, giving another futile tug to your bindings.

“New York City,” the man deadpanned. You nearly rolled your eyes—you could’ve figured that one out yourself. The sounds were distant, muffled, but you could still make out the sound of the hustle and bustle of the busy city. You couldn’t exactly tell which borough you had been brought to, but you knew you weren’t in a residential area. The room you were in was big with tall ceilings, dim construction lights, and no windows aside from darkened skylights on the roof. An abandoned factory. A warehouse, maybe.

Well, isn’t that just a bit cliché.

You shivered as a draft eased over your skin. The building certainly didn’t have central AC—you were freezing in the thin pajamas you had been kidnapped it.

Kidnapped.

You had just been kidnapped. Why this was only registering now, you weren’t sure. You fought the panic rising in your chest. Hyperventilating now would be no good and you didn’t want to know what would happen if you passed out. A count of five to control your breathing, then: “What do you want from me?”

“It’s not you we want, sweetheart.” He rose from his seat, straightening his suit jacked and adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. He slowly stepped around the table and you couldn’t help but be reminded of a jaguar stalking its prey. You tensed when he disappeared behind you, but he was only gone for a moment before tossing several issues of the Bulletin across the table. “It’s him.”

You cautioned a closer look at the papers in front of you. Featured on each page was a different grainy photo of the man in the mask, Daredevil, whatever they were calling him these days. “I don’t—I don’t know him.”

“You don’t?” The man—your kidnapper—pulled out a few photographs, placing them slowly in front of you. The first was of you and Daredevil walking side by side. It was taken shortly after he had saved you from that alley, you realized, when he escorted you home. The second was a picture of the fire escape landing just outside your window. You were leaning out the window, handing him a bottle of water—the defender of Hell’s Kitchen needed to be hydrated, right? But glancing at the third picture, you were unsure of what it had to do with you. Until you realized it was of him kneeling on the rooftop of the building across from yours.

“We’ve been trying to track him down,” your kidnapper continued, “as he’s been interfering with several…business ventures of ours. He’s been very hard to locate. Fortunately for us, your apartment is one of his more…frequented locations. We just want to know who he is. Then we might be able to…set you free.”

“But I don’t know him!” you insisted again.

Your kidnapper retrieved a knife from his pocket, sliding the flat of it up the side of your arm. “It would be easier on the both of us if you just told me his name.”

“It would be easier if you’d just listen! I don’t know—” Your words abruptly cut off as the man slid the point of the knife against your thigh—not deep, but enough to slice through your pant leg and draw a thin line of blood. You could almost laugh. You were expecting much, much worse. “That’s the best you could do? I’ve had paper cuts worse—”

Your eyes widened. Why were you mouthing off at a time like this? Why would you say that? Stupid, stupid, stupid… In a flash, the man’s palm struck across your cheek, turning your head sideways. You tasted blood. Your lip was split. Fantastic.

“I just need a name.”

“I don’t have one!”

“Then let’s just hope he finds you in time.”

“What? No, please, please!” you shouted as his fist collided with your temple.

It was a slow night for Matt. He hadn’t stumbled across any emergencies needing his assistance nor could he hear any in the surrounding area. The night was almost too slow, it seemed. Without anything to do, he jogged across rooftops until he reached your apartment building. He always told himself it was just part of his nightly sweep of the neighborhood, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

It had been weeks since you’d talked to him—well, talked to him as Matt, that is. You had been his best friend for nearly two decades now. It pained him every day the two of you didn’t talk.

But it wasn’t like he didn’t understand.

He rejected you. He probably broke your heart and, to top it all off, he was hiding a huge secret from you! He understood why you were giving him the silent treatment—he’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed—but he was thankful he could still at least check on you every day, even if it was as the Daredevil. He just wished you wouldn’t take it out on Foggy, too.

Foggy was torn, to say the least. He hated to see his two best friends apart like this and hated knowing he had contributed to it in some way. He wanted to tell you Matt’s secret, he really did! But he couldn’t. He desperately wanted to tell you so you could talk some sense into Matt, get him off the streets every night, but he couldn’t betray Matt’s trust like that. Even as much as he wanted to. He’d tell Matt as much, but things were already tense between them as they were.

Shaking his thoughts aside, Matt stepped gently onto your fire escape. He first noticed the cool air seeping out the window to your apartment. How many times would he have to remind you to lock it? He made three quick raps against the pane, alerting you to his presence. He waited for you to answer, but you never showed. He turned his attention away from the city and directed it to the inside of your apartment. But…he couldn’t hear you.

He could hear the loud thumping of the heartbeat of your upstairs neighbor and the quieter beats of her two cats but not you. He slid your window open wider and slipped into the space of your kitchen. The air was still. You hadn’t been here in a few hours. Dread pooled deep in his stomach.

Matt pulled his phone out of his pocket. Normally, he left it behind, but part of him hoped you would end your silent treatment one of these nights. Whatever the reason, he was thankful he had it. He just had to assure himself that you were okay—perhaps you’d gone to the store or out to a movie with a friend. He quickly dialed your number, paling when he heard your phone buzz on your bedside table. He hung up. Foggy’s number was next.

“Matt?” Foggy asked groggily, disoriented from waking up and confused that Matt was actually calling him.

“Have you heard from Y/N?” Matt asked quickly.

“No. Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just…stopped by her apartment and she’s not here. She’s not answering her phone.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably at a friend’s place. Asleep. Like we should be.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.” Matt ended the call, nearly throwing the phone across the room in frustration. Something wasn’t right about this. He paced across your apartment, freezing when he caught the scent of…cologne? His heart dropped a little. Maybe you found somebody to replace—

His mind made the connection. That was the same cologne as one of the crime bosses he’d been following.

This time, he did throw his phone across the room.

You realized at some point you’d gone unconscious. You awoke to a throbbing in your skull and sharp pains across your abdomen. You couldn’t feel the rest of your body, but you generally felt like you had been hit by a truck. The taste of blood was heavy on your tongue. You pried your eyes open, but everything was blurry. Was one of your eyes swollen shut or just could you not see from the pain in your head? You pried your eyes open further and winced. Swollen. Your eye was definitely swollen.

You couldn’t catalogue any other specific injuries. All the pain swelled together, indistinguishable from one another. You thought maybe a finger was broken, but you couldn’t tell for sure. It definitely hurt every time you tried to flex your hand, though. You also realized deep breaths were something to steer clear from.

Your captor noticed your movements and stepped into your field of vision, leaning against the table in front of you. “Back, are we?” he asked. He casually bumped your knee with his, almost affectionately. You hissed from the pain the movement caused.

“Didn’t…didn’t think I could leave,” you wheezed. You’d certainly begged for it earlier. But your kidnapper made it clear the Devil arriving would be your only hope. Your kidnapper…you really needed to give him a name.

“Not yet.” Your captor—Zane. Yeah, let’s call him Zane—picked up a knife from behind him and twirled it in the air. You tensed, waiting for the pain to come, but he just continued to stare at you.

“Okay, listen,” you begged. “I’m weak. I’m weak, I know I am. I’m weak to torture. If I knew anything, it’d have spilled already. You’re good—you’re good at what you do, but I don’t have anything—”

“Flattery gets you nowhere. Besides, that isn’t even the goal anymore.” A glint from the knife was your only warning before it was embedded in your thigh. You screamed, begging, pleading, that your hero would find you.

Your bloodcurdling scream sent ice down Matt’s spine.

He had been poised outside the warehouse, waiting, listening, trying to find the best course of action to rescue you. But that sound had him throwing caution to the wind. He dove through the nearest window.

Three men were in this hallway. Matt dodged a bullet one of the men fired before ripping the gun out of his hands. A solid strike from the butt of the gun rendered the man unconscious and Matt turned to face the other two. His mind turned to autopilot as he incapacitated his enemies. Every move was instinctual, every hit uncaring.

At last, he found where you were being held in the center of the building. He tensed as he stepped into the room, hands raising in a sign of no harm. You were being held at gunpoint. Every step he took pressed the gun tighter into your temple, so he froze, thirty feet away from you.

Tears were streaming down your face. You knew a gun was being held to your head, but you weren’t conscious of much more than that and the knife still hilt-deep in your leg. Ringing in your ears drowned out all other sound. You weren’t sure how the Daredevil made it across the room or took down Zane, but you instinctively reacted when hands pressed down on your shoulders.

“No, please, stop!” you begged. “I don’t know who he is, I swear.”

Slowly, your senses came back to you. “Hey, it’s me. Calm down,” you heard. Your eyes fluttered open. The masked man blearily came into focus. You wished you knew what he looked like. He’d probably have such gorgeous eyes… “Y/N, hey.” A hand tapped the side of your face. “I need you to stay awake, okay? I’m gonna get you some help.”

“My eyes closed?” you mumbled. You were trying to stay awake, but your eyes had plans of their own.

“Yeah, they did.” He knelt down to untie the rope around your wrists and ankles. Once free, he tucked an arm under your knees and behind your low back. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry.” On a count of three, he lifted you into his arms and you were out like a light.

You groaned some time later as you were laid gently on what you thought to be a couch. You couldn’t tell where you were—higher thinking was on the backburner currently. The pain quickly erased any thought that came into your mind. You fought to open your eyes, though. You had to know if you were safe.

You were in a small apartment, on a living room couch like you originally thought. An expansive first aid kit was spread on the coffee table next to you. Several of the tools were bloodied; several packages were ripped open. You raised your eyes higher to find a woman and a man having a heated discussion. The man you knew—it was the Daredevil. You could tell even though his back was turned. The woman, though…you weren’t sure her identity. She wore blue, bloodied gloves and the ears of a stethoscope were around her neck. You caught the last of her argument.

“She needs a hospital, Matt. Only surgeons are qualified to remove impaled objects. And I, as good as I am at stitching you up, am not a surgeon.”

You thought hard to make sense of the words. Who needed a hospital? And wait… “Matt?” you croaked. She said Matt? Daredevil instinctively turned at the sound of your voice and you gasped at what you saw. His mask had been removed. You met the eyes of your best friend. Matt Murdock. “What? It’s you?” Matt sighed and ran a hand over his face. Fuck. This was everything he was trying to avoid. “This was why you had those bruises?” He nodded. “Foggy knows?” He nodded again. This was too much for you to wrap your head around.

Matt knelt by your head and took one of your hands in his. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. This is why I couldn’t tell you, why we couldn’t be together. I knew someone was going to use you to get to me. It’s all my fault—”

You stopped his tirade with a whisper of his name. “Matt, it’s not your fault.” You reached up to wipe a smear of blood off his cheek. You weren’t even sure who it belonged to—you, him, or one of your kidnappers. “It’s not your fault. We’ll talk about this later. Right now I’m in a lot of pain and getting a lot of blood on a stranger’s couch. I need to know what the plan is.”

Matt turned to the woman and then sighed. “This is my friend Claire. She’s a nurse at Metro General. She’s going to take you to the hospital, okay?”

Matt moved to stand, but you gripped his arm. “You’re not going?”

“I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. I have to change clothes first. I can’t show up looking like this.” He gestured broadly to his bloodied suit. Your grip tightened. You didn’t want him to leave you. “I trust Claire with my life. She’s safe.”

You slowly loosened your grip. “Be fast,” you whispered. Matt nodded.

He and Claire loaded you into the passenger seat of her car. Matt pressed a kiss into your temple before closing the door behind you. Soon, the car was moving and you bared your teeth through the pain each turn and bump caused. Claire was a constant stream of “sorry.” You fought with everything you had to stay awake, but with the adrenaline gone, you felt every injury at full volume. But one ginormous pothole was all it took for your strength to shatter.

You groaned as you came to. Your eyes fluttered against the bright lights, but once they adjusted, you found you were in a hospital room. “I want to stop waking up in random places,” you whined. This was the third strange place you had woken up in since…however long it was since you were last at your apartment. A calendar on the wall said it was Sunday. So, two days.

Matt startled awake at the sound of your voice. You glanced over at him. He’d been trying to sleep in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs. He had dark circles under his eyes, worse than usual. Had he been here this whole time? “You look like shit, Matt,” you said.

“Y/N, I—” he started, but you cut him off.

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand now, I do.” Matt slid his chair across the floor until he was right by your side. You reached down to take his hand.

“But if I—”

“There’s a million things both of us could have done differently to not end up right where we are. The blame’s not all on you, Matt.”

He was silent for a few moments. He pressed the back of your hand against his lips as he thought. “How are you not mad at me?” he eventually asked.

“They got me on the good drugs right now, I think. But once they release me…ooh, you’re in for it.” You squeezed his hand, smiling.

“Yeah?” He returned your smile.

“Yeah.” You sat quietly for a few moments, your heart monitor filling in the easy silence. “So are you really blind? Or is that something to throw off people from finding out your secret identity?”

“You think I’ve had an alter ego since I was ten?” he laughed.

“You never know,” you shrugged. You burrowed deeper into your pillows. “I think I’m going to take a nap now. Will you stay?”

“Always.”

You were nearly asleep when you had to murmur one last thought. “I love you, Matt.”

“I love you too.”

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock/reader #repost #kayla rambles #mine

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missjanjie · 3 years ago

Text

Better Than Revenge | (2/?)

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.6k (this chapter) | ~5.3k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

TW for this chapter: implied domestic abuse, attempted sexual coercion of a minor, deadnaming/transphobia

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Nicky, Jan, and Mik's revenge origin stories

Milwaukee, WI - 2007

“I think my parents are starting to get suspicious,” Jaida quietly confessed, her gaze downcast to the floor while Nicky sat behind her, braiding her hair.

Nicky frowned, her brows furrowed as she tied off the braid she’d put Jaida’s hair in with a hair elastic. “What is making you say that?” she asked, moving so she was facing the other girl and taking her hands into her own.

She shrugged, fumbling with the hem of her shirt until Nicky’s grasp stilled them. “Just feels like they’re snooping around more, suddenly real interested in my life. And you know they’re always acting weird whenever we’re at my house together. Last time they made us keep the door open, remember?”

“I had assumed that was an American thing,” she confessed. She had only moved to the states a couple of months ago, at the start of her and Jaida’s junior year of high school, and she was still learning how to differentiate cultural differences from people behaving unusually to her specifically.

“You think everything you don’t understand is an American thing,” Jaida rolled her eyes with a fond smile, “though I guess you’re right most of the time,” she conceded.

Nicky shrugged it off, redirecting back to the topic at hand. “But you’re worried they’re going to find out about us and poop will hit the ceiling.”

“Shit will hit the fan,” she corrected, then sighed. “I mean, think about it — my mom’s a Sunday school teacher and my dad’s the son of a preacher, they take ‘traditional family values’ very seriously. And I don’t know how things are in France but there’s nothing traditional about this,” she explained, gesturing between the two of them.

She frowned, her brows knitting together. “But we are happy together, surely once we graduate, we can—”

“It’s not that simple, Nicky!” Jaida tossed her head back and groaned. “I love you, but in a place like this, sometimes love just ain’t enough.”

And maybe it was denial, or maybe it was blind optimism, but Nicky had refused to take that answer lying down. She fought for Jaida and fought even harder to keep the relationship away from her disapproving parents. For a while, it seemed to be working, they had their beautiful, fleeting moments that let them believe that everything would be okay.

It was the first day back after spring break and Nicky immediately noticed a change in her girlfriend. It was like the life and light had been drained from her like she was only present physically. And despite the warm weather, she was dressed for late fall. She rushed towards her, taking her hand. “Ma chérie, what’s wrong? You look so unwell.”

Jaida hesitated before pulling her hand away. “I can’t hang around you anymore,” she replied. “Though I’m not gonna see anyone around here for a while starting real soon,” she mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“My parents found out, Nicky,” she choked out, forcing back a sob, “and they were mad, I ain’t never seen them so mad. They’re sending me to military school… well, they gave me a choice between that and conversion therapy… seemed like the better option.”

Nicky bit down on her quivering lip. “But you can find me when you are done, right?” She reached out to her again, but Jaida backed away to step out of her grasp.

“I can’t. Besides, you won’t want me anyway, I won’t be the same person.”

She tried to grab for her once more, desperate to keep her, looking at her with watery, pleading eyes. “Jaida, I can’t—”

“Please,” she sniffled, “don’t make this harder than it’s already gonna be.”

And perhaps Nicky should have let it go, accepted losing her first love, and moving on with her life. Sure, she would eventually. She would move around for school, for work, meeting many beautiful women along the way, but none of that happened until she made sure Jaida’s parents experienced at least a fraction of the hurt they had caused the both of them.

Her plan had been elaborate and convoluted and would require a heavy amount of stealth work and computer literacy to pull off. But as it turned out, her plan of convincing the two parents that the other was cheating on them was quite easy when her snooping unearthed the fact that both of them already were. All she needed to do was bring it to light.

Present Day

“When you think about it,” Nicky mused, “I did them a favor. There are worse ways they could’ve found out than having an envelope full of proof dropped off at your workplace. At least no one made a scene… as far as I know, at least.”

“Does Jaida know?” Rosé asked. “Now that you guys have reconnected, have you caught her up to speed? Because it seems like something you should tell her.”

Nicky winced and looked away. “It… has not come up yet,” she murmured. “There is no easy way to inform someone that you were the catalyst in their parent’s divorce. Unless you have a way, in which case, feel free to share with the class.”

She shrugged, putting her hands up in surrender. “I got nothing, but my point remains. It’s gonna bite you in the ass badly if you wait too long to say anything.” When Nicky shrugged it off, she decided to move on. “What about you, Bubbles?” she asked, looking towards Jan, “what sort of scathing revenge does someone as bouncy as you come up with?”

Jan pressed her lips into a fine line, holding back what was either a smile or a grimace. “Well, this also happened in high school, an all-girl Catholic school, of course…”

Old Bridge, NJ - 2009

Jan was nothing if not brave. Coming out in tenth grade, especially considering the environment she was in, was a choice that couldn’t be taken lightly. While she had the support of her family and closest friends, the school environment had been a different story.

“Janice, could you stay back for a moment?” her math teacher, a conventionally attractive man in his early thirties, prompted as the final bell rang.

With math being her weakest subject, Jan was instantly concerned and nodded. “Of course, sir. Is something wrong?” she asked as she walked over to his desk.

“I think something is very wrong,” he replied as he got up. “Janice, I am highly concerned with your mental wellbeing.” He stopped in front of her, cupping her face with both hands. “You’re such a bright, beautiful girl. It would be such a shame for you to throw that away because you’ve chosen to shun God and live in sin.”

Jan felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach and her throat tighten. This was inevitable, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. She started shaking her head. “N-No, I’m… I’m not, I—”

“Shh…” he pressed his thumb to her lips to quiet her, then swiped it across her bottom lip. “Part of being a good Christian is overcoming temptation. And that’s what you want, isn’t it? Isn’t it what your parents want for you?” His hands move to her shoulders, squeezing them gently. “God gave you this body to lay with a man, you just need to be put in the right direction before it’s too late. I could help you, I could save you.”

Jan felt sick to her stomach. She hated every moment of the interaction; she hated the feeling of his hands on her, the way he was leering at her body, undressing her with his eyes. But at the same time, it was hard to lean into that hate, because he did pick on every insecurity she had in regards to her faith. But her sense of self won out and she was able to free herself of his grasp and run out of the room as fast as her legs would take her.

Any shame or guilt she might have felt was quickly replaced by anger and a desire to stop the man that tried to rob her of her innocence from harming anyone else. But she was still cautious, she knew there was a risk of retaliation if she spoke out alone, that was when her plan formed.

She created a fake Facebook account of a fifteen-year-old girl who was ‘planning on transferring to her school’. That was why she messaged the teacher, and after a few days of exchanging messages, ‘Samantha’ had agreed to meet up with him, the conversation in no uncertain terms making his intent clear.

Now, the obvious path from there would have been to go to the police, but that wasn’t good enough for Jan. Instead, she went to her godfather, who had promised he’d always help her ‘by any means necessary’. So, it was neither the police nor ‘Samantha’ that met the teacher at the park. Instead, it was two burly men who drove home a rough lesson that he was to turn himself in the next day, lest he face even worse consequences. He’d been given a flash drive with a copy of the whole exchange and was told he had exactly twenty-four hours and that the police would be expecting him.

Of course, those details weren’t in the subsequent news story of the teacher’s arrest. The conviction, however, was disappointing to Jan, as it was only two years and a thousand dollar fine, as well as losing his teaching license and having to register as an offender.

Present Day

“But rest assured, people are keeping an eye on him these days. You know, should he ever try and act up,” Jan explained with a shrug.

Rosé’s mouth was hanging open by the time Jan had finished her story. “So, you put a hit out on a pedo. I mean, shit, color me impressed,” she chuckled softly, then quickly followed up with, “I’m so sorry any of that happened to you, though. I’ve had people in my life try to weaponize religion against me after I came out. It’s never an easy pill to swallow.” She then looked at the group curiously. “Are you all…”

“Mik’s pan but yeah, the rest of us are gay,” Gigi confirmed with a nod. “At first, I thought that’d be the only thing we all have in common, but here we are now.”

“Chosen family is super important,” Mik agreed, “you never know who you can’t trust in your bloodline.”

Rosé quirked her brow. “That what happened to you?”

Scottsdale, AZ - 2015

Mik had been sitting across from his parents in dead silence for the past five minutes. There was no easy way to break it, let alone a correct one. On the coffee table in front of them were printed pictures of screenshots from his private Twitter account, where he presented himself as his true identity, but the precautions he took weren’t enough.

“Kady, sweetheart, I’m sure Uncle Joe brought this to our attention with your best interest at heart,” his mother said in as sweet of a voice as she could muster, which only served to sound fake to her son.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh please, don’t give me that. If it was ‘concern’ he would’ve told you privately. He sent it to the family group chat then told you that, and I quote, ‘your daughter thinks she’s a tranny’,” he struggled to keep his tone even, but he knew he needed to coddle his parents’ feelings if he wanted a chance of being taken seriously.

“I’m sure it just caught him by surprise,” his father offered.

Mik groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even if he did, he wasn’t treating it like a fun piece of gossip, he hunted down my private account and outed me to humiliate me, and it would mean a lot if you guys had my back on this.”

This brought another wave of silence upon his parents. He couldn’t get a clear read on them, but they seemed stressed, confused, and most painfully, they seemed sad. His mother slowly picked her head back up. “Kady, I—”

“My name is Mik.”

“Listen, honey, you’re going to have to give us some time to adjust,” his dad tried to ease the tension, “you’re still our child, but this isn’t an easy thing to process, your mother especially is mourning the loss of her daughter.”

Mik felt his chest tighten in anger and hurt. “But I’m not—” he got up, shaking his head. “Right, fine,” he mumbled and escaped to the sanctuary of his bedroom. Left alone with his thoughts, the anger he had towards his parents dissipated and the rage shifted solely onto his uncle. After all, this was his fault. He was the one that robbed him of the opportunity to come out on his terms, and with the active intent to cause harm.

The anger didn’t go away over the following weeks. Instead, it built up, it festered inside of him as the summer after high school began. He had downloaded Grindr out of casual curiosity, and it was only a matter of minutes before a profile caught his eye. “No fucking way,” he grinned.

Of course, it was Joe, Mik realized how much of a cliche it was, but that didn’t change the fact that his bigoted uncle that tried to ruin his familial relationships was soliciting male escorts on a gay dating app. The opportunity for revenge essentially fell into his lap. He made a fake account and exchanged messages with him, just enough to get the evidence he needed.

The last step was simple, he dropped the screenshots into the same group text without any comment and removed himself from the group chat right after. He didn’t need to see the chaos unfold, Uncle Joe’s absence from the next family gathering was all he needed.

Present Day

“Just to be clear,” Mik added as he finished the story, “I’m against outing people, for the most part, obviously it should be something done on your terms. But shit, sometimes it’s gotta be an eye for an eye, you know?”

“Wait, I have a question,” Jan chimed in, “is he out now? Do y’all even talk to him anymore?”

He shook his head. “He moved to Alabama, I guess he wanted to go somewhere to double-down on the bigotry. No idea what happened after that. But, you know, good fucking riddance.”

“Amen to that,” Rosé agreed. “I don’t know how you guys have figured out that line of deciding what’s morally sound and what’s ethical enough. It seems to work, but it seems hard.”

“Jackie helped a lot with that,” Jan told her, her face lighting up and her smile broadening as she continued, “she has this pragmatic take on these things while still understanding that there’s so much ambiguity and morally gray areas. She’s honestly the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Rosé nodded as she listened. “I’m glad you guys have someone like that on your team. How long have you two been dating?”

Jan turned bright red, worsened by the way the rest of the group laughed. “Oh, um, we’re not dating. She and I are… very close friends,” she explained.

“Ah,” the corners of her lips tugged into a smirk, “you’re just fucking, got it,” she observed, causing another eruption of laughter from the others, much to Jan’s chagrin. Once it died down, she redirected her attention to the half of the group that had yet to recall their stories. “Alright, who’s next?”

#halldoll #jankie #rpdr rpf

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queenlua · 4 years ago

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You're a druid and an ex-evangelical, right? What does being a druid mean to you? How did you get from evangelicalism to where you are now? And of course feel free to ignore this if it's nosy. (sincerely, a Christian who wants to leave but who doesn't know what to do)

this is going to make me sound ignorant as hell, lol, but i'm happy to share

under a cut because this got very long, sorry, lol.

my personal progression was: "vaguely christian -> VERY christian -> christian agnostic -> agnostic/atheist -> agnostic/druid -> some sorta druid-neopagan-animist thing." i guess i'll just go through what made me switch between each of those, and close out with some high-level thoughts that may be helpful for you?

okay, so when i was

VAGUELY CHRISTIAN,

i went to Sunday school every week because That's What You Do, and because my whole hometown was very southern Baptist, i never questioned the veracity of its teachings much... until they ran a whole weekly series on "why [x] is wrong," where [x] is some other group

e.g., we had a week on why Mormons are wrong, and i didn't bat an eye because i hadn't even known Mormons existed until that moment

then we had a week on why Muslims are wrong, and that... bothered me, because i had a friend who was Muslim, and she was just objectively a better person than me, and i was like "any universe where she goes to hell and i don't seems really fucked up"

then we had a week on why EVOLUTION was wrong, and that just absolutely threw me, because while i hadn't thought about evolution much (i think i was in fourth grade or so), it seemed common-sense? scientists thought highly of it? "adaptation over time" just seems logical?

so i went to the public library every day after school for like a week, read some Darwin and some science books, and came back to my Sunday school teacher with, like, an itemized list of objections to the whole "evolution is wrong" thing. and he came up with some standard Answers In Genesis rebuttals, and i did more research and came back the next week with more science, and we repeated this a few times until he was like "lua, you just gotta take some things on faith"

which. lmao. full existential crisis time, because no matter how hard i thought, i couldn't *not* believe in the science, but i also didn't want to go to hell, so i was like "maybe if i believe SUPER HARD i will SOMEDAY be able to unbelieve the condemn-me-to-hell bits"

so i decided to become

VERY CHRISTIAN

and my frantic googling for shit like "proof of god" and "god and evolution" *eventually* broke me out of the Answers In Genesis circles of the internet, and into some decent Christian apologia, like, think First Things and various Catholic bloggers. and there, i found some way to square my gut sense that evolution was right, with a spiritual worldview.

like, i remember finding some blogger who said:

"young earth creationists get tripped up when they try to explain stars that are millions of light-years away, and end up basically arguing that God's tricking us somehow, and—no! my God lets you believe in the evidence of your eyes, my God does not demand that you make yourself ignorant or stupid, my God expects you to use your brain"

and i just started crying at my computer, because no one had ever said "using your brain is Good and part of God's will," i was like *finally* here's someone who won't tell me i'm going to hell for just *thinking* about things

(st. augustine does a much better riff on a similar theme, fwiw, but i only found him later)

still, it was an uneasy fit, because, the more i learned and read about world history, the more it seemed... weird... that the One And Singular Path To Salvation was... the successor to some niche desert cult... which didn't even occur at the *beginning* of written history, like, it was all predated by that whole Mithraism thing, etc... and like, sure, i could trot out all the standard theological talking points for why Actually This Makes Perfect Sense, but gut-level-wise, the aesthetics just seemed kinda dumb! and no level of talking myself out of it made that feeling go away!

so at this point i started referring to myself as a

CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC

i mean, not aloud. i still lived in southernbaptistopia and i didn't want, like, my hair stylist to tell me i was a horrible person. but in my *head* i called myself Christian agnostic and it felt right.

and i started church-hopping, which honestly was really fun, would recommend to anyone at any point. i visited the fire-and-brimstone baptist church, the methodist church, the episcopalians, the universal unitarians, etc.

unfortunately, while this gave me *some* new perspectives, each of the places either had the same shitty theology as my old megachurch (i remember the *acute* sense of despair i felt when i was starting to jive with a methodist church... only for the dumbass youth minister to start going on about evolution), or, they just lacked any sense of the *sacred*. like, the Church of Christ churches, with their a capella services, *definitely* had it; i felt more God there in one service than i did in a lifetime of shitty Christian rock at the megachurch. but their beliefs were even *more* batshit, so. big L on that one.

having failed to find a satisfactory church, i was basically

AGNOSTIC/ATHEIST

by the time i went to college, but honestly pretty unhappy about it; while it was harder than ever for me to actually *connect* with the divine, i didn't like thinking that my previous experiences of the divine were total lies. because my shitty evangelical church, for all its faults, could not *completely* sabotage the sense of God's presence. there were real moments in that church where i do believe i experienced something divine. mostly mediated by one particular youth minister, who in hindsight was the only spiritual teacher in that church who didn't seem a bit rotten inside, but! it was something!

so when i happened upon a bunch of writings on the now-defunct shii.org (that's the bit that makes me look WILDLY ignorant, lol), i was utterly captivated.

said author was a previous archdruid of the Reformed Druids of North America, an organization that was formed in the 1960s to troll the administration of Carleton College (there was a religious-service-attendance requirement; they made their own religion; their religion had whiskey and #chilltimes for its services). however, this shii.org dude seemed to take it pretty seriously. he was studying history of religion and blogged a lot about his studies, both academic and otherwise. while RDNA had started out as a troll, that didn't mean they hadn't *discovered* something real in the process, he said.

this, already, was going to be innately appealing to me; i've got a soft spot for wow-we-were-doing-this-ironically-but-now-it's-kinda-real? stuff in general.

in particular, shii.org’s discussions on the separation of ritual from belief was really interesting to me: most religions/spiritualities have *both*, but like, you can do a ritual without having the Exact Right Beliefs (if there even is such a thing!), and it can still be useful to you, it can have real power. (he had a really lovely essay, speculating on the origins of religion as just a form of art, but that essay is now lost to the sands of time, alas.)

(note that i wouldn't really recommend seeking out *recent* writing by the shii.org guy; he kinda went full tedious neoreactionary-blowhard-who-reads-a-lot-of-Spengler at some point? sigh.)

the shii.org guy led me to checking out a bunch of books on the history of neopaganism & also books by scholars of religion in general, and the more i read, the more excited i became. and i started doing little ritual/meditation stuff here and there.

then i was fortunate enough to attend some events with Earthspirit (this was when i lived in Boston), which cemented my hippie dalliances into something more real. the folks there, being from Boston, were all ridiculously overeducated (a sensibility that appeals to me), but also, being the kind of folks who drive out to a mountain in the middle of nowhere for a spiritual retreat, they tolerated a full range of oddities (everyone from aging-70s-feminist-wiccans to living-on-a-farm-with-your-bros-Astaru to dude-who-started-having-weird-visions-and-is-just-trying-to-figure-out-the-deal to Nordic-spiritualist-with-two-phds-from-Scandanavian-universities-on-the-subject, etc), which gave me a lot of room to explore different types of rituals, ceremonies, "magic", etc.

(polytheism in general lends itself well to this sort of easy plurality! i can believe other people are experiencing something real with their gods, and i can be talking to a totally different set of gods, and that’s just all very compatible, etc)

anyway, i started calling myself

AGNOSTIC/DRUID

around then, because i knew i'd found *something*, something that felt like all the realest moments i'd ever had in nature, and all the realest moments i'd ever had in that shitty megachurch, but i wasn't quite ready to put a theology to it.

but, idk, you do the thing for a while, and you start encountering some things that you may as well call gods, and you realize you're in pretty deep, and you ditch the "agnostic" bit and just throw hands and start describing yourself as

SOME SORTA DRUID-NEOPAGAN-ANIMIST THING

because that's the most precise thing you can muster. in particular, the druid bit resonates because nature's still very much at the center of my practice; the neopagan bit resonates because i'm not especially interested in reconstructing older traditions or being faithful to any actual pre-Christian traditions, and animist resonates because what i sometimes call gods seem to be tied pretty tightly to the land itself. it's all very experiential; all this mostly means i'm some weird chick who sometimes grabs a car and drives out someplace very lonely and hikes for a while and does some hippie shit to try and talk with the land or the god or whatever is there. and sometimes i come back from it changed, or refocused, or what-have-you, and hopefully i'm better for it. i'm aware this makes me look a little ridiculous, and is an unsatisfying answer, sorry!

WRT YOUR SITUATION

i don't know you or your situation, obviously, but if i wanted to give former-me some advice to save her some angst, i'd say

-> Christendom itself is far wilder and more diverse than many churches lead you to believe. if you still want to be Christian on some level, and it's just a shitty church that's convinced you the whole project is fucked, i'd honestly explore, i dunno, your nearest Quaker meeting. they're invoking the Holy Spirit with regularity but they're not raging douchenozzles about it.

-> if you're specifically interested in druidism, i found John Michael Greer's "A World Full of Gods" really nice. (caveat: Greer has *also* gone full right-wing nutjob these days, sigh, so like. would not recommend a great swath of his writing. but that one's good)

-> deciding that a just God wouldn't give me a brain and then ask me not to use it was hugely comforting to me. like, that was the start of the whole process, that was what made me feel ok searching for other churches and trying to find something that fit. obviously you should take this with 800 grains of salt, because obviously i'm no longer Christian, and thus maybe i'm just some poor misguided fallen soul, but... i still kinda believe that! maybe if you can make yourself believe that, it'll seem less scary?

idk, happy to answer more questions, sorry for the long ramble, hope it helped~

#druid stuff

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vicecityhq · 3 years ago

Photo

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: flickering neon lights, the sound of static, retro video games. With a slight resemblance to HAN JISUNG of/the STRAY KIDS.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Nam Jaejin ALIAS: Crypto Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Earth Age: 21 Date of Birth: January 31st, 2000 Gender: Male Preferred Pronouns: He/him, they/them Species: Cyborg Occupation: Bookkeeper of the Howlers, university student, hacker Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Tan Eye color: Brown, with a blue/purple tint at times Scars: Surgery scars where his enhancements have been added; in his right arm and chest area. Piercings: Right eyebrow, both earlobes Tattoos: When he is not actively using his enhancements, the mechanical arm silhouette on his right arm resembles a tattoo. (x) Hair color: Currently black with white highlights. Abnormalities: Added technological right arm and metallic elements to the right side of his chest. these enhancements affect most of his body/internal system as well (namely his lungs). he has human brains, but they are affected by the technorganic physiology as well. Horns/ wings/ etc: none Transformed form: His technological arm mostly looks like a tattoo to someone who doesn’t know any better. While actively using his abilities, his right arm and chest begin to glow with a blue/purple light and resemble more of a robotic arm/chest. This glow might affect his eyes as well.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: Raised Catholic, later turned atheist SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: Korean (native, dialectal at times), English (mostly fluent), Latin (basics) SECRETS: He has been behind a lot of major hackings towards the government/other significant parties during the last few years. Jaejin will usually attempt to blend in with “normal” humans and civilians, trying to hide both his cyborg-ness as well as his gang affiliation. SAVVIES: Technology, computer science, hacking, mathematics, video games, planning Powers & Abilities: Technorganic physiology, technology manipulation Traits: + quick-witted - aloof Aesthetics: Flickering neon lights, the sound of static, retro video games

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: January 31st, 2000

Date of Death: -

Crime Record: Multiple hackings against many different significant figures/parties, as well as countless smaller hackings. Involvement in gang activities, mostly relating to fundings. He hasn’t been found guilty for any of these crimes yet, but he is also aware that his record might not stay clean forever.

Background/Biography:

Born to a wealthy upper-class family in Busan during a cold January, Jaejin was, at first, anything like most kids. He had a younger sister. He had loving parents (albeit ones who had their expectations raised sky-high from the very beginning). And he had a few people around him he could even call friends. The kid was a little shy, a little nerdy, but nothing short of pure and kind towards the ones he cared about. His childhood was a little uneventful, but a happy one regardless.

Jaejin was nearing the age of ten when the unfortunate accident occurred. It was a dark October evening, heavy rain making it nearly impossible to see clearly. Jaejin was returning home from a friend’s house, hurrying down the street as the rain continued to increase. The kid decided to cross the street, thinking of the Nintendo Gameboy console waiting for him at home. The sound of brakes screeching against the wet asphalt made him halt where he stood. It was all blinding light and the loud howling of a truck’s horn before everything went black.

Jaejin barely survived the hit, perhaps by some miracle. What didn’t survive was the majority of his right arm. Most of his chest was looking quite vile too, having endured a hit that no human tissue really could. Some of his organs, namely his lungs, were damaged nearly beyond repair. He was barely breathing, only making it with the help of the beeping machines of the hospital. Jaejin’s parents, shocked and shaken up by the whole thing, quickly began to pull strings and search for methods for him to make it. It was a question of any means at that point. A decision that they would perhaps come to regret later.

The boy was taken to a private clinic that specialized in cybernetic surgeries. It was supposed to be just about repairing the parts of him that no longer worked as well as life required. But Jaejin’s surgeon was a charismatic man of science, and was able to convince the higher class family that some small enhancements to his body wouldn’t hurt. The Nam family was eminently very unaware of the lengths that some cybernetic surgeons went in the name of science and test-runs. So when Jaejin awoke some twenty hours later, he was no longer the same boy at all.

It wasn’t evident, at first. But over the years it became apparent that something had shifted after the surgery. The once very warm boy became aloof, often struggling to empathize with people. In turn he became intelligent in a way he necessarily wasn’t before. Jaejin's emotions weren’t completely shut-off by any means. He felt things, sometimes even strongly, but not always in the way others expected him to. And the boy was ashamed and alone with his thoughts. It wasn’t until years later, during his high school years, that Jaejin discovered the things that he was actually capable of. Accessing and controlling different technological components became something Jaejin got kicks out of, a different kind of excitement filling him for the first time after the enhancement surgery. And so what if hacking things was illegal? It enabled Jaejin to have control and power. It enabled him to have pride in himself.

After high school, once Jaejin had already enrolled in university to study computer engineering, an acquaintance approached him after a mathematics class. Even at first glance the young man could tell that the things he was about to be told were not something he could tell anyone else. He was asked to follow the man to a place he would later know to be the Howler’s headquarters. His skills and savvies were something they took interest in. And though Jaejin was nothing short of unsure about the offer, he figured he could stay around for a while. Even if only to help the gang with their poor money management skills out of pure curiosity.

So that was what Jaejin became – a gifted, witty student by day, and a hacker and gang member by night. He had gone by the codename Crypto even before affiliating himself with the Howlers, so it was natural that he also used that alias in his gang endeavors. Jaejin, having taken distance from his family a long time ago, was surprisingly willing to be included in a gang of all things. Maybe it was the things the gang did and provided him with that gave him a sort of thrill and excitement otherwise lacking in his life. Or maybe being a part of a group made him feel a little bit more human again.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

Jaejin was, for the lack of a better word, in quite a robotic state.

Again, it wasn’t that the man didn't feel anything at the question. Sure he did: he felt annoyance at the fact that he had to be sitting there, in the police station, when he could be tackling his microcomputer architecture project due in a few days. But Jin also knew that it wasn’t really the typical emotion to be feeling while being questioned by an officer. Especially not if you were innocent (and he was, technically speaking).

“It all happened so fast”, he said instead. He was trying to summon some feelings of shock and maybe even sorrow. Jaejin knew those to be the typical feelings of a civilian witnessing a gunfight, after all. Except in this case it was more of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time, not so much the fact that he hadn’t seen it before. It had been people from the Howlers, though; a fight against some other gang members (for reasons the man frankly didn’t know). And Jaejin had just happened to be there as the police cars arrived with sirens howling.

He wasn’t going to say any of that though. Jaejin wasn’t about to snitch on his gang members, not if he had nothing to fear. And as far as he knew, none of the scouts involved had actually been caught. The police had nothing on the situation. So he continued to speak in a manner that, in hindsight, was probably too calm for someone who didn’t know anything. This might come and bite him back at some point. “All I know that there were people in black, many of them. I didn’t really see their faces, probably a gang or something. Suddenly there was a loud noise of gunfire and that’s the part where I ran to the back of the warehouse.” Out of nowhere, Jaejin felt actual emotions surging to the surface. “I was... afraid”, he whispers in a small voice, “I didn’t want to get hurt. To die.”

Except it wasn’t really his own life he was afraid for. Jaejin found himself back in the situation, the same emotions rushing through him. He was afraid for them. For his own gang members. For better or for worse, the people who accepted him when no one else had. For the first time in a long time, Jaejin was afraid of losing someone (not that he would admit it out loud, though).

#vcaccepted #vchowler #han jisung #stray kids #krp #finally got another bot boy ;-;#@david

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

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Kurtbastian one-shot “Surprise Guest Stars” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Chaos ensues when some uninvited performers show up to Thomas's Christmas pageant ... (2221 words)

Notes: Blaine friendly. Assume this happens in a world that hasn’t met Covid yet. A re-write for @kbweek2020 Day 4 prompt Parents.

Part 60 of Daddies.

Read on AO3.

“You tell him!” Sebastian whispers.

“No, you tell him!” Blaine whispers back fervently - a huge fail if he was trying to keep Kurt from hearing him. For a man who’s been working in theater professionally since college, how could Blaine forget that Kurt would be able to hear him from every corner of the stage? Rule number one of working backstage - no shushing and no whispering.

“Why me?” Sebastian asks.

“Because you’re his husband! You have a child together! If I tell him, detectives will never find my body! He won’t hurt you!”

“Yeah, right. Wanna bet?”

“Sure. Can you break a hundred?”

“For God’s sake!” Kurt snaps, too overwhelmed this close to curtain to handle anything that might go hand-in-hand with those two and their whisper fighting. “Would one of you just tell me what the heck is going on? What are you arguing about?”

Sebastian looks at Blaine, waiting for him to give Kurt the explanation he’s demanding while Sebastian searches for a place to hide. He’s out of luck when Blaine catches him off guard with a huge shove towards center stage right in the path of the steely-eyed man walking aggressively toward them, the thick heels of Kurt's Jimmy Choo loafers pounding against the wood floorboards marking down the remaining seconds of their lives.

Blaine may have made his living on the stage, but Kurt takes theater much more seriously than he ever has.

“We might have a problem,” Sebastian says.

“What? What problem!? It’s fifteen minutes to showtime! Don’t talk to me about problems!”

“O … okay ...” Sebastian smiles sheepishly, splaying his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Let’s call it a hiccup then.”

“A hiccup is a safety-gated synonym for problem, and I refuse to accept that there are any problems.”

“And yet, we still have one.”

Kurt sighs, throwing a hand to his forehead to shield his already blooming headache from whatever stupidity this is, and ends up smacking himself with his clipboard. “Fine!” he groans, rubbing the sore spot. “What is it!?”

“Look up there.” Sebastian reaches out to take his husband’s shoulder and redirect his attention. But after considering the possibility of getting his hand bitten off - a hand that will become most important if Kurt decides to never sleep with him again after this - he motions with his chin instead.

“Up where?”

“Up … up there. In the Christmas tree.”

“What? Is Mrs. Popson complaining that the ornaments are unbalanced again? Are we going to have to re-Feng Shui the lights to better complement her third graders’ angel piglets?” Kurt allows himself a snicker as he follows Sebastian’s instructions and gazes up. Eight dozen ridiculous things have happened so far, and their little pageant has yet to even open. That’s probably all this is - something ridiculous. A minor inconvenience blown way out of proportion.

At least, that’s what it had better be.

But as he peers through the branches of their picturesque twelve-foot Fraser fir, he realizes no. This isn’t a little thing. It’s a rather large thing. So large, he wonders how come he didn’t notice it before now.

“Oh … shit,” he mutters.

“It's Blaine's fault. I didn't see it until he pointed it out,” Sebastian says, passing the blame off on an offended Blaine and leaping quickly aside in case this revelation has consequences.

“This,” Kurt hisses, jabbing a finger upward, "is why I told you I wanted an artificial tree for the Christmas pageant! Where did we get this thing anyway?”

“It was donated by Father Bruno at St. Adalbert’s Parish to show support for the school's LGBTQ+ inclusive program. He went out to the woods and cut it down himself!”

“Right!” Kurt folds his arms over his chest. “He probably planned this! Did it on purpose to sabotage our pageant! You can’t trust the Catholics! Don’t I always say that!?”

Sebastian looks at Blaine, and a confused Blaine looks back, each wondering if this is some inside remark directed at the other.

“No!” Sebastian pulls a face. “I have never heard you say that!”

“Well, you can’t,” Kurt sniffs. “And whether I said it or not, it’s generally implied.”

“I don’t think the man did this on purpose,” Blaine says, but does so in that soothing tone he used so often on Kurt in high school. A bad decision, Blaine realizes, the moment Kurt's head pivots his way, and he sees everything from Kurt’s neck to his scalp turn a bright, crayon red.

“Really!? Then let me ask you this - during the time it took the good father to cut this tree down and drag it over here, he never once noticed there was not one, not two, but three nests inside!?”

“I guess not! But neither did y---we,” Sebastian corrects, his life flashing before his eyes when he comes close to implying his husband is at fault. “We got the tree last minute. I guess they slipped through the cracks.”

“Obviously.” Kurt closes his eyes and drops his head, searching for an answer in the dark behind his lids.

Five minutes.

By now, they only have five minutes. He hears the children lining up with their teachers backstage while he and his husband argue. But they need to stop arguing and come up with a solution.

Fast!

He takes a deep breath in and exhales out, the inklings of a plan forming in his head.

“It’s okay,” he says, reassuring himself more than anyone, the headache simmering behind his eyes threatening to become a full-blown migraine. “It’s going to be okay. They haven’t let the parents in yet. They’re still in line outside. We can fix this. We can still fix this. We can move them, right? Just … shimmy up there and get them down?”

Blaine and Sebastian shoot each other anxious looks. This time, Blaine starts, choosing to jump on the grenade for Sebastian. “Uh … no. We can’t.”

“Yes, we can,” Kurt counters, over-enunciating consonants through teeth clenched so hard they’re about to pop from his skull. “Figure out a way to skitter up there and pluck them out. It can’t be too difficult.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt …”

“Or come at them from above. You can reach down from the catwalk. That might work out better seeing as they’re so high up.”

“No, Kurt …”

“We’re not going to hurt them,” Kurt interjects as if that might be the big hold up. “We’re going to relocate them.”

“Kurt …”

“There’s a cat carrier in the fifth-grade room,” Kurt continues desperately, unsure why it is this can’t be done, why Blaine can't say, "Brilliant, Kurt! I'll get right on that!" He’s seen people do it before. The Crocodile Hunter (God rest his soul) rescued birds left and right. That nice Officer Kevin from the SPCA who rescued the deranged pigeon from his father's auto body shop. And wasn’t there a famous Vine where some guy got an owl out of his kitchen using a broom? It can’t be that difficult. “We’ll toss them in there for the time being and then …”

“Kurt!” Blaine cuts in, raising his voice a tad higher than advisable considering the situation. “We can’t move them!”

Kurt's glare nearly takes the top of Blaine's head clean off. “And why can’t we?”

“Because those aren’t just any birds.” The three men look up at the exact moment nine fluffy faces peek over the edges of their nests and look down, probably wondering what all the commotion below is about. “Those are loggerhead shrikes.”

Kurt and Sebastian both look at their friend with confusion on their faces.

“How do you know that?” Sebastian asks.

Kurt puts a hand on his husband’s shoulder and shakes his head. “That question is going to require a longer answer than we have time for. Plus, there are children in the building. Just accept that Blaine has a thing about birds.”

"PG? Or R?" Sebastian asks, needing clarification regardless.

"Try X," Kurt says in a lowered voice.

Sebastian looks at a blushing Blaine with wide, disgusted, but somewhat amused eyes.

"Continue," Kurt says, "from the part where you tell us why these birds are about to ruin our pageant.”

“Loggerhead shrikes are threatened. That means they’re protected. We can’t move them ourselves. We might not be able to move them at all without taking the tree with them.”

Kurt’s eyes bug. “We can’t … we can’t … the tree!? Oh great! This keeps getting better and better!”

“Relax.” Sebastian takes the risk and puts a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. He tries to massage it, but it’s hard as a rock. “It’s okay. We can still sort this out.”

“And how do you suggest we do that!? Huh!? Our Christmas pageant, which your son is starring in by the way, and is supposed to start in …” Kurt spins around in search of a clock. When he can’t see the one on the far wall, ironically because of the tree, he fishes his cell phone out of his pocket and checks the screen. His eyes bug out farther “… two minutes! has been hijacked by birds!”

“Look, Kurt, they’ve been chill so far. Maybe we can have the pageant with them there and move them after. Problem solved.”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees optimistically, trying to force his heart to slow down, seeing how, with no time to spare, this could be a feasible option. “You're right! We’ll let them stay! Problem solved! I mean, what’re a few birds? It doesn’t look like they can even fly yet. And they’re cute! They’ll add realism. They won’t be any trouble.”

“Not exactly,” Blaine says, and Kurt has never wanted to punch him in the face so hard in his life. Wait … come to think about it, there may have been one or two other times. “There may be a whole other bigger problem.”

“And that is?”

“Those are babies. Juveniles, specifically. I don’t see any moms. Or dads for that matter.”

“I know I’m going to regret asking this,” Kurt moans, resigned to whatever fate Blaine’s knowledge is about to bestow upon them, “but … that’s a problem why?”

“Because loggerhead shrikes are protective. Being separated from their chicks, the parents will get aggressive. Also, if the babies don’t know where their parents are and they get nervous …” A series of jarring screeches interrupt Blaine’s explanation. Kurt glares up at the birds, mouths open wide, cawing loudly into the air. Blaine points up. “They’ll do that.”

“Great!” Kurt yelps, at the end of his rope. “So we have potentially agro birds loose in the theater, baby birds that spontaneously scream bloody murder, and a play set to start in half-a-minute, which we may have to postpone indefinitely in case we need to call animal control - do I have that right?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Well, skippidy do! Is there anything else!? Anything at all you’ve forgotten to tell me!? Because what else could possibly go wrong!?”

The doors at the back of the auditorium fly open, and Kurt blanches, knowing that right then and there, his question is about to be answered.

“Kurt! Sebastian!” the assistant principal yells, looking a little too much like Tippi Hedren in The Birds for anything good to come from her sudden appearance. “Come quick! It’s an emergency!”

“What? What, what, what is it now!?” Kurt asks, sounding less than sympathetic.

“Insane birds are dive-bombing parents in line outside! Three people have already been pecked! Everyone is scattering!”

With the auditorium doors thrown open, Kurt can hear the panicked yells of parents banging on the steel doors outside, begging to be let in. Above that, the shrieking of the birds searching for their babies echo through the halls, their screams so high-pitched and piercing, they make their way through the thick stone walls and double-layered storm windows. Hearing their parents’ cries, the baby birds respond, frantically flapping their wings in an effort to take flight themselves and reach them.

Bitterly Kurt thinks all of his problems might be solved if they give it a go, plummet to the ground, and break their little birdie necks.

How un-festive of him.

Sebastian looks at his done-in husband. “Do you want me to go outside and handle this one alone?”

“No.” Kurt straightens his back, squares his shoulders, hands his clipboard over to Blaine, and makes for the stairs to the stage, head held high like a gladiator going off to fight an unwinnable war. “I’ll go. Blaine? Tell the teachers … there’s been a bit of a delay.”

“Will do,” Blaine says, leaving the stage with a solemn salute and a sigh of relief.

“And Sebastian?”

“Yes?” Sebastian says, falling in behind his husband, unwilling to let him walk off into the bird battle alone.

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“The next time I ask what could possibly go wrong - gag me.”

“Absolutely.” Sebastian smirks, preparing to die on the hill of bringing a smile back to his husband’s face. “Just so I can plan appropriately … will you be asking that anytime tonight, perchance? Because I can get a babysitter and rent a room in about five seconds.”

“Great,” Kurt replies humorlessly. “Do that. Let’s pray I’ll have enough blood left in my body to enjoy it.”

#kurtbastian #kbweek2020 #kurtbastian fic #sebkurt #sekurt

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #395

“suicide? i’ve already died / it’s just the funeral i’ve been waiting for”

Have you ever met a famous political figure? No. Have you slept for longer than usual today? Ugh, no. I officially have my APAP mask for my sleep apnea, and I chose the one that covers my nose and mouth considering it varies which I breathe from when I sleep depending on congestion. It is very hard to get used to. When is the last time that you experienced rejection–literal or imagined? Hm. Is there an artist or celebrity whom you admire for their craft but take issue with their personality or politics? Yeah, such as Marilyn Manson. He's a pretty gross person but by god do I love his music. What’s the last thing you made out of clay? An anatomically correct heart. Do you like bacon bits on your salad? Yes. What do you do to celebrate Earth Day? Nothing. :/ I wish I could think of something to do for it. Have you ever had someone try to intentionally bully you to suicide? Bro what the actual fuck. No. Who are your favorite kids that you’ve babysat? My nephew Ryder. Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? I've kissed a girl and it felt pretty great, so. Name three things in your room that others probably don’t have in theirs: 1.) a snake; 2.) a huge meerkat collection; and 3.) an APAP machine. Besides furniture, what’s the biggest thing in your bedroom? My snake, I think. Describe your feet: Ugh, the worst. My feet are horribly callused from when I used to walk all the time. I have small toes. What’s a pretty bird? Peacocks. Besides sleeping, what do you do in bed? Just about everything. .-. How do you like your hoodies? Loose/oversized. Can grills be sexy on a guy? They're hideous, if you want my honest opinion. Have you ever been in a Catholic confessional? Yes. How fucked up are those, honestly... I really hate the concept of teaching children that they have to tell some random guy things they feel bad about and let him ask God to forgive you or else you're going to Hell. What color was the hair of the last person you kissed? Brown. Can you do a backflip? No. Where are the last three places you went? The TMS office, a gas station, and my sister's house. Do you consider yourself a flirt? No. How old is the oldest person you’ve dated? I actually don't know, but at least close to 30 now for sure. I just know we were both in high school, but he failed I think two years. What’s something that makes you feel more creative? Music. Who has the best personality on YouTube? Guess who, lmao. Which YouTuber seems uber-confident? Mark is a very confident person. I envy 'im for that. What is the funniest YouTube video you have ever seen? I watch YouTube like... constantly, so I've seen thousands upon thousands by now. I really don't know. Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? No, but that's like a dream marriage venue for me. What was the most boring field trip you ever want on? I don't think I ever had a boring one. Man, I miss those. Do you enjoy watching videos of babies being born? NO FUCKING THANK YOU. Does ANYBODY? Are you a hoarder? No. If you were rich, what things would you get done cosmetically? I would say liposuction, but I honestly want to lose the weight myself. If/when I lose the weight I want to, I am 110% getting loose skin removal at LEAST on my stomach because I feel hideous with it. Also if I achieve my weight loss goals, I want to get a breast lift. Weight loss-related things aside, I'm pretty serious about getting laser hair removal on my legs because I HATE shaving and my legs are VERY hairy, and the hair is dark, so I'm extremely self-conscious about it. Are you the type of person who asks a lot of questions? It depends on who I'm asking. With some people, I'm afraid to look stupid if I ask too many. How many states have you visited in your lifetime? If you're excluding the ones I've merely driven through as well as lived in (which is only one), I've visited Ohio, New York, Florida, Virginia, Tennessee, and Illinois, so six. I MAY have been to Michigan as a baby, but I don't remember. What is your biggest fear for the future? Ending up homeless after Mom passes. I'm scared my family will give up on me, which is completely unrealistic, but I'm terrified of living on the streets. Do you like seafood, or not so much? I only like shrimp. Have you ever cried from being so nervous? Oh, certainly. What is your favorite book series, if you have one? Hm... of all series I've ever read, probably the Shiloh trilogy. I adored the books and the movies. Have you ever had a parasite before? NO NO NO NO NO, DON'T MAKE ME IMAGINE THIS. I am PETRIFIED of parasites. Do you have a big heart when it comes to animals? Absolutely! Have you ever put your pets in a kennel for a while? I actually don't remember? It's possible when we've gone on an extended vacation, but I'm unsure. Whenever we've gone somewhere, friends have normally taken care of our animals. Where is your favorite place to buy clothing? Hot Topic or Rebel's Market. Do you enjoy listening to older music? I love classic rock and metal. What do you think is the most stupid song out there right now? "WAP" for fucking sure. I haven't even heard the whole thing, and I don't EVER want to. As a child, did you ever want to become a mermaid? Nah. Ariel was my favorite princess, but I wasn't obsessed with mermaids or anything. Can you compose sentences in any other language than your own? Some German, yes. Mainly just the basics. Have you ever met someone who was really racist before? Yes, many. -_- Do you have any celebrity autographs? No. If you could be a Disney character for a day, who would you be? Maybe Kiara from TLK. What is your favorite color of clothing to wear? Black. Did you ever build furniture forts as a child? Oh yeah, lots of times! I sometimes even pretended they were burrows and I was a meerkat, ha ha. What kind of dog is your favorite? I have a beagle bias. Do you prefer water or land? Land. Have you ever had a seizure? No. Do you plan on losing weight any time soon? Hunny, I've been trying to since 2016. -_- I lost like 70-ish pounds through 2017-2018, but recently I've gained almost like... all the weight back and it is upsetting beyond words. Have you ever been in a heated pool? Uh, a hot tub? Yes. Are you looking forward to anything? Getting Venus' terrarium, finishing TMS so I can maybe get a job, visiting Sara again... What was your GPA in high school? Over 4.0. Do you require a lot of private time? OH yes. What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I hope achieving a sense of accomplishment and becoming content with my hopeful career, marrying a fantastic partner, and having a family of lovely pets. If you have a favorite television show, who’s your favorite character? I'll go through the very few I deeply enjoy: 1.) Mozart in Meerkat Manor; 2.) probably Hyde from That '70s Show; 3.) perhaps Envy from Fullmetal Alchemist; 4.) Jerome from Ginga Densetsu Weed; and 5.) Shiro from Deadman Wonderland. Did you use to watch Blue's Clues? OH yes. I loved that show as a kid. Do you stutter when you get nervous? BADLY. Your lunch consisted of...? What DID I have... uhhh OH leftover pizza. What is your favorite kind of chips? Hot, crunchy Cheetos. What is the best way to tell someone that they stink? I wouldn't. Do you have any embarrassing usernames? Some from the past, yeah. Do you have a backpack in a shape of an animal? No. I found a meerkat one once, but it was way too small for me to use in school. :( I was so disappointed. Have you ever waxed your legs? No. I've waxed my upper lip and eyebrows, but especially with how long and thick my leg hair is, I think waxing there would be excruciating, so no thanks. Do you own any shirts with a peace symbol on it? No, but I would if it had a cool design. Have you ever taught a little kid to flick people off? No, and I wouldn't. Children generally don't have a strong enough grasp on when profanity is appropriate and not. Have you ever itched yourself until your skin was raw? This is VERY common. Like right now, my right arm is the Sahara with how dry and raw it is. Do you always clear your history after using the computer? Nah, got no reason to. Have you ever eaten a Big Mac? No, because I know I wouldn't like it; I don't like lettuce on my burgers. Do you feel like you’re judged for your looks? For my weight, yes. Name one world issue that upsets you. Just one? Poverty is high on the list. Just... no one should have to live like that. Do you like Wendy’s frosties? After they thaw a little bit, oh yeah. It's physically impossible to drink them for a good few minutes because they're so damn thick.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''cyanide'' by metallica

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