#when I was twelve except I was Aware the whole time. I was aware and it was terrible

[david-watts]

fuck. already starting to get symptoms

[minyard-05]

hi, me again.

neil josten deserves some of the hate and i'm not kidding

CW: abuse, child abuse + neglect, aaron's whole backstory

now, prefacing this by saying: i LIKE neil. i also recognise that he's a complete dick. i am also fully aware that i am the only person who thinks/cares about aaron minyard this much. i ALSO recognise that i have made this post 4 times already but i'm making it again

SO. i present page 236 of TKM

this scene was over the line even for neil

allow me to *cracks knuckles* Explain.

there are two foxes who, i think, would be able to actually somewhat understand what aaron's life growing up with his mother was like, and those two are wymack and renee. wymack grew up with a bad father who hit him and killed his mother, and renee grew up with her mother and her mother's boyfriends, who are all described as being heavy handed. what pisses me off the most about this scene in particular, among other neil & aaron interactions, is that neil implies that aaron could've stood up to his mother and he didn't.

aaron's mother died when he was fifteen. he had no siblings living with him, no dad, and nicky says he got involved with some bad stuff once he got to columbia, all of which points to aaron being almost entirely isolated as a kid. isolated from everyone except for his mother, who was neglectful before she got violent, but even still, that neglect would bear scars of its own. aaron probably had to learn to cook before he was tall enough to reach the kitchen counter. aaron probably had to walk himself home from school when he was too small to see over cars before crossing the road. aaron probably had to lie to his teachers when they asked to call his mother, had to forge her signature on permission slips, had to learn to shoplift young so he could still eat when they didn't have any money. and then he would have to learn how to clean a cut without it getting infected, because he couldn't go to a hospital. he would have to think about long sleeves and baggy shirts to cover up bruises, he would have to learn how to lie quickly if anybody asked why he was limping slightly, he would have to figure out any possible way to keep people from finding out what was happening, because the alternative was that he'd get taken away, and then he'd really be alone. and that's scary. when you're twelve, the prospect of losing your mom is scary. even after everything, he still didn't know what to do without her. he loved her because there was literally nobody else in his life he could love. and he was a kid.

aaron was a kid and he was scared, and 90% of his actions/reactions to things throughout the books are the actions of a kid who didn't get to do anything other than grow up too fast and now he doesn't know what to do. considering the above scene i cited is immediately after Happy Birthday Junior, aaron's reaction (which is directly confronting neil about wtf is going on) is completely justified! because another reminder that all of the trilogy is in neil's first year of PSU, but aaron and the others have been through the aftermath of kevin signing with them (which we know meant a lot of threats, fights, and other bad shit), with the addition of general Fox drama. and aaron has NO idea what's going on. all he knows is that this random kid from arizona seems dead-set on pissing off riko moriyama, one of their teammates is dead, somebody put a dead fox in their car, and now somebody broke into their locker room and filled neil's locker with blood. so, naturally, aaron's asking what the fuck is happening.

ok so now i am not 100% sure where exactly i was going with this, i am still sick and have a very short attention span so my TLDR is this: when aaron punches neil in the corridor after neil talks to katelyn (even though that happened before this), neil kind of had it coming. also i personally believe aaron deserves to punch neil just one more time. he's earned it

[foldingfittedsheets]

Hello! Just wondering out of idle curiosity, why do you often reblog your own posts very soon after posting them? Is it to have a version without the tags?

I love reading your blog, you have such a charming storytelling voice as well as an exceptional memory. Wishing you many more wonderful moments (that may or may not become their own stories in the future)!

The short answer is I try not to! This morning I goofed because I reblogged a story, then my wife added a reblog to it. I deleted the first one and reblogged their addition but I’m sure it still popped up twice for some folks.

The longer answer is I have a whole autistic little system for how I post with several scripts I run in my brain for what’s acceptable. I’m aware my stories and comics are long and I get self conscious about gunking up peoples dash.

So my typical system is to let my queue post at around 7pm. Around that time I might reblog additional stories or art because it’s the Peak Engagement time. If I write a story that I feel like could get more love I’ll put it on a Friday or Saturday evening slot which is the highest tier of getting eyes on it.

Then when I wake up in the morning I’ll usually reblog the stuff from the night before because other timezone folks might have missed it the first time. That means my stories are typically only appearing at most once every twelve hours, which seems reasonable.

In cases of new comics or art I’m excited to have made I might do several rounds of every twelve hours, like the gryphons I just made? I think they’re so cute and they’ve gone around several times in both morning and evening timeslots but never more than twelve hours apart. Because even though it’s pride I have restraint.

Throughout the day I check my notes. If someone leaves a comment on a post I haven’t shared in a while I might reblog it on the spot in the middle of the day or whatever time it is.

But as a last note, if I seem to pop up on your dash a lot, you might consider following more people!

I have time stamps active I think everyone should turn on time stamps. When I notice I’m scrolling from morning to afternoon really quickly it usually means someone I was following or even several someone’s has stopped posting and I might need to look for other folks whose content I enjoy to fill out my dash!

[thenightfolknetwork]

Good afternoon. I hope that you can assist me with a family matter.

I come from a very long line of mischief-makers, extending back for well over twelve generations. And my children all took after the family trade, as did all—well, almost all—of my grandchildren, and while my gaggle of great-grandchildren are too young to be working, they seem to have the knack for it as well.

You may have noted that I said almost all of my grandchildren. This is because of my youngest grandchild. They went to uni, had a strange and unnerving group of friends, got varied grades, graduated, and became… are… decided to become—my youngest grandchild is, you see, well, they’re a… they’re an accountant. A white button-down shirt pressed slacks accounting accountant!

As I’m sure you can imagine, the whole family was a bit shocked. We’re not all strictly mischief-makers; I’m a shenaniganerist myself! Still, none of us have ever strayed that far from the family business.

In retrospect, we really should have anticipated this—they were always a bit less inclined towards tomfoolery than their siblings and cousins. And they are overjoyed with their job, always chattering on about numbers and graphs. Besides, perhaps becoming an accountant when you come from a family that prides itself on chaos is chaotic? Either way, I’m trying to be happy to them, and I am confident that with time, I will be able to succeed.

However, I’m not quite sure what to talk about with them. They’ve always been a bit more distant than my other grandkids, likely because of their interest in… other topics, and this job has just exacerbated that. With the exception of a few reclusive ghosts, I’m the oldest person in my family. And, as head of the family, I’m the figure who people go to when they need help, whether it’s something small, like illusion homework, or big, like setting up an ongoing scheme that’ll run for decades.

I don’t know how I could help with this new profession. Well, I do, but I have a feeling that anything involving dental floss, temporary hair die, and two pounds of mustard seeds isn’t what they would be looking for. I want to show my grandchild that I am here, for whatever they need, and have it be true. How do I do that when I don’t know the right way to support them?

Oh, reader. This sounds like a very delicate situation, and my heart goes out to you. I can certainly empathise with your surprise at your grandchild's chosen profession. But at the same time, I can see how deeply you love them, and want to show that love in a way that supports and validates their identity.

Your grandchild is likely very aware of how different they are from the rest of the family. It's a very good sign that they've felt comfortable enough to share this part of their life with you all, and that they feel able to talk to you about the things they enjoy about it.

I understand that it's important to you to be someone your family can turn to for help and practical support. But that's not all you bring to the relationship. You are valuable and precious to your family beyond the role you play as a help-mate and advisor.

Your grandchild doesn't need you to understand the ins and outs of accounting. They don't need you to work out some way of helping them directly in their career, or to come up with a complicated scheme involving their accountancy skills.

This seems like a very good time to step aside, and let your grandchild take the lead. After all, they're the best possible person to know what will make them feel supported.

I recommend taking them out to spend some one-on-one time together. Don't make complicated plans – this is about spending quality time together, and giving them your attention. Let them know how proud you are of them, and how much you want to support them in their endeavours.

If there is anything specific they need from you, all to the good. You will have opened those lines of communication and let them know you're happy to help. But I strongly suspect that all your grandchild will need is to know that you're there for them, and that you love them. That's quite enough to be going on with.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[queenlucythevaliant]

9, 10, 13, and 19 for phineas and Ferb !!! 🧡💙🤎

PnF yesssss! (also I see you there with those Perry-colored hearts)

9: give the most UNHELPFUL and/or SILLY summary possible

Genius children seize the day while their older sister experiences a Sisyphean hell, all unbeknownst to their popstar mother. Meanwhile, a platypus beats up a traumatized Eastern European.

10: if you made an amv about this, what song would you set it to?

Putting aside actual PnF tracks (that feels like cheating), I feel like it would be really fun to do a Phineas and Ferb version of one of those videos set to "Shut Up and Dance" with all the characters dancing. Would love to see that!

13: Tell me an out of context piece of worldbuilding or lore

Girl, I am not gonna be able to come up with anything that you don't already know. So I guess let's go with the fact that Buford has life-size molds of all his friends. That's one of the more bizarre buried ledes in a show full of great buried ledes.

19: pitch an idea for a sequel or spinoff of this story!

Ok so. Phineas and Ferb decide to become novelists. They get input from all their friends and, over the course of the morning, write and publish a twelve volume fantasy epic. Running gag about how convoluted the plot is. Baljeet was in charge of continuity and Buford contributed some postmodern Proustian themes. The love story is courtesy of Isabella, and so of course the main love interest is a really buff version of Phineas. Everyone except Phineas is aware of this; Phineas is oblivious because he wrote a character into the story that's like. A not at all sexy dwarf that's also based on him. People all over Danville become obsessed with the Buff Phineas character and by the time that a movie adaptation is being cast in the mid afternoon, Doof is scheming to get himself cast in the part using his audition-inator or something. Candace is trying to tell their Mom, but it turns out that she's reading the book with her book club and is super into the nerdy elf librarian that's based on Lawrence; doesn't want to be torn away from book club and doesn't make the connection that F. P. Perry is a penname for her sons. The episode ends when Perry foils Doof and Irving accidentally gets hit with the audition-inator. He gets cast as Buff Phineas and everyone abruptly loses interest in the whole series. The movie gets cancelled, but there's a gag when Lawrence gets home from the antique shop and Linda says that he really does remind her of that character from book club that she liked so much and it's cute. Pie is served. Perry chatters Idk, I don't have the whole thing worked out. It's something. I feel like novelists is an obvious avenue that PnF never really went down, and I feel like you could have a lot of fun with it.

[fourswords]

starting sketching out light and like. HES 12??? like I get it- he's about to be 13- And knight is the oldest at a grand total of 15 but like-

BRO DOESNT EVEN HAVE AN ATTENTION SPAN YET???

like I know they're dumb in the manga but 😭 every 12-13 year old I've ever met is like a certified dumpster fire, which you might wanna consider in his character lmso

but I just feel like after the manga it wouldn't even matter that he saved Hyrule, he's just getting grounded until he's a legal adult 😭

like azure THATS A BABY- Aint no way he's smart enough to have even survived half the manga even with his dumb luck!

im crying please add like one year to all their ages im on my hands and knees is your goal to give this tiny child some form of PTSD because he is IN CONSTANT DANGER.children need to have a sense of safety (and their stupidity doesn't count, blue got swallowed alive and frozen, vio was lying to SAVE HIS LIFE, green was straight up about to kill vio and had to deal with attacking another knight, and couldn't bring himself to attack their own dad, and then red got chased by an angry mob and then lost all will to LIVE with blue in that one temple-) 12 is barely even conscious and self aware 😭

like I know 12 year olds have complex emotions and can handle abstract concepts and start getting into deeper moral understanding- but my human of earth the self awareness is either ONE THOUSAND OR ZERO AND THERE ISNT A BETWEEN AT THAT AGE-

im sorry if I sound rude or something btw I'm mostly just joking and I tend to overdramatize for comedic effect but I genuinely cant wrap my head around him being just 12- like at least 14??? maybe bump knight to 16 while ur at it? ?

also I'm gonna figure out some way to incorporate the different colors into his hat probably, its big so its like a bag lol since in the manga blue just shoved his whole hammer in there I'm pretty sure

smithy will be extremely small without complaint.

feel free not to take my words seriously tho lol I just cant imagine a 12 year old going thru the manga, like look me in the eyes and tell me a 12 year old-

if I misunderstood anything lmk lol I am a lil stupid sometimes

HAHAHA YES HE IS IN FACT TWELVE. The Legend of Zelda is a series that's all about "yeah let's hand this child a sword and let him go nuts" (to use a popular example, BOTW Link being canonically handed a sword at age four and is said in Mipha's diary to have been able to best grown men in fights: "At the request of Hyrule's king, a group of outsiders came to greet us at the domain. One of them was a Hylian child of only about four years of age. His name was Link. He made quite a first impression. He was curious and full of energy, with a ready smile. Are all Hylian children that way? One thing that surely sets him apart is his swordsmanship, which I hear is exceptional. He has even bested adults. He must be somewhat reckless, however, as he was covered in bruises.") and I absolutely intend to lean into that as much as possible. Light's age comes mainly from comparing Akira Himekawa's designs for Links of varying ages side-by-side with each other; for example, you have Minish Cap Link, who's very obviously drawn like a young child:

You have Twilight Princess Link and Ocarina of Time Link, both drawn to look like older teenagers (and we know OOT Link's older age is 16-17 depending on who you ask):

We have Skyward Sword Prequel Link, who is a fully-fledged adult (his other panels illustrate the difference more sharply, but this is what he looks like, so):

And then we have FSA Link in the manga, who is drawn to be VERY visibly younger than OOT, TP and SS Prequel Link, but is definitely visibly older than MC Link (he's got the rounder face + eyes, the shorter stature, and it becomes even more visible when compared to the knights in the FSA manga itself):

His maturity level also does, to me, match that of an average 12-year-old nepo baby (which he really kind of is)—kid who thinks he knows everything & that he's hot shit but is kind of a giant train wreck internally.

All three Four Sword heroes prior to him were explicitly stated to be "young boys", and FSA manga Link is really no different in that regard—in the context of my own AU, he's actually the one who went on his adventure at the oldest age (with Smithy going on his around 8-9, Four going on his at 10, and Knight now going on his at 11). It's just been a shorter time since his adventure than it has been for the others ^^;

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

on the cusp between childhood and adulthood, the sudden onset of grief when you weren’t in the room where it happened, and the impossible art of growing up in a very short time: or, why the princess of france from love’s labour’s lost means a lot to me personally

on the heels of reading as the princess of france with @socialshakespeare

heads up, the rest of this is going to get Very Long Very Quickly, so i’m putting it under a cut. tw for discussions of cancer, parental death, and grief.

so when @socialshakespeare announced that it would be doing love’s labour’s lost this month, in the box where you can put any additional notes about your casting preferences, i pretty much begged the admins to let me have a turn as the princess of france. y’know, i said, as a sort of twenty-first birthday present. and i was cast as the princess of france! thank you, socshakes! <3

but there was a very specific reason why i asked to play the princess of france.

and that reason is simply: she reminds me of me. more particularly, she reminds me of me from 2020, but me from 2020 was really the germination point of me today.

“savannah, everyone changed in 2020, 2020 was a fucking unbelievable year and it changed us all. it changed our whole world.” yeah. i’m well aware. but there’s a specific reason for me.

***

see, in early 2020, i was having a pretty decent time, actually. it was my senior year of high school, i had a great group of friends (much like the princess had her three ladies except my core friend group was bigger than that), things with my family weren’t great but i knew that come august i would be able to move out.

that first period of covid was awful and it changed so much and at times it felt like i was having a mental breakdown, but it wasn’t what ultimately ripped me apart that year.

you see, in 2018, about a month before my fifteenth birthday, my father was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer. for a good long while, though, it seemed like he might beat the odds. treatments were working, he went to one of the best hospitals in the country to get good care, and we believed that he just might make it.

and then in the summer of 2020, things rapidly took a turn for the worse.

on july 20, 2020, we all got sat down and told that the treatments weren’t working anymore, and they had elected to put my father on hospice care. i sobbed all that night and into the next morning, but i had a cashier job that summer at walmart. i was an essential worker and i had to power through.

in love’s labour’s lost, everyone knows even before the princess arrives that her father is extremely sick. for heaven’s sake, it’s why the princess is there in the first place instead of the king. and yet the princess powers through. there’s deals to be made, familial honor to be defended, and there’s also that tiny matter of falling in love and playing with the joy and laughter that come with it. and the princess embraces it.

she is young, she is optimistic, she is a bit sheltered maybe yet so smart, she has devoted friends, she has seemingly all the time in the world because no one knows when the time runs out so might as well believe it never will, right?

my high school graduation came five days later, on july 25. a rare opportunity to see friends then and, at long last, after a two-month delay and twelve years of study before that, a chance to celebrate. relatives came in. we had cake and flowers. we took photos on the soccer field in 90-degree weather but it didn’t matter because we were together and we were so full of joy on that blue-sky day.

and after that, only nineteen days until leaving. i had been counting the days for months, excited for new possibilities, not understanding the impact. it would be easy, i thought. all that needed done were to pack my bags and suitcases and buy some last-minute things, say my goodbyes for now to my favorite people, enjoy every moment i could, and wait in a haze of delightful agony and optimism until the morning of august 13 came.

this went as planned for about three days.

july 29, 2020, started like any other day. i got my things together, had an argument with my stepmom about doing the dishes (you said i can’t do the dishes when it’s late and everyone’s asleep after i get off work, when do you expect me to do them), decided to start the dishwasher right before i left for work (if she was mad about it, then she could unload the dishwasher as needed and we could have this conversation when i got home, i reasoned) and went to walmart for my shift that day. i cut one of my fingers on a taco seasoning packet, watched some of the salzburg 2007 production of berlioz’s benvenuto cellini on my lunch break, and in general otherwise it was a pretty normal shift. and like all normal shifts, i took my sweet time getting out and getting home.

at about 5:15 i was dawdling and trying to find an excuse to not get in my car just yet when i got a call from my stepmom that basically went like this:

me: hi

stepmom: hey. are you coming home yet?

me: i will be there in a little bit.

stepmom: it’s been raining so you need to be careful getting home.

me: it hasn’t rained that much and i know how to drive in the rain.

stepmom: just be careful getting home. bye.

so i sighed and went “well i can’t put this off any longer”, and got in my car and put some more berlioz on and drove home, thinking about how she sounded upset over the phone and oh i was going to get a tongue-lashing for leaving the dishes in the dishwasher all day.

and just as i was pulling up, i noticed my older brother’s truck outside. huh, i thought, that’s weird. why is he here?

i pulled into the driveway and saw my stepmom sitting on the step outside the side door by herself. two thoughts about what this meant went into my head at about the same time:

option 1: uh oh my stepmom is big mad and she waited out here just so she could tell me off right when i got home

option 2: uh oh my brother and my stepmom got into a fight again for whatever reason and she just can’t deal with it right now

(both of these, for the record, were entirely plausible things that could have happened)

so i parked and got out and decided to not commit to either of these but just play this very strange situation as coolly as possible. i believe my exact words were “hey, what are you doing out here by your lonesome?”

and like monsieur marcade, she could only get out a handful of words, and it was left to me to fill in the meaning.

the meaning: savannah, your father is dead.

and, to quote a different shakespeare play, “i must be from thence.”

my father died and i wasn’t there.

***

this is the same fate to befall the princess of france: her political mission mixed with girls’ trip has taken her to navarre, to a world full of annoying yet beloved men and delightful games and amateur theatre filled with passion. and then she learns that her father all the way in paris has died, and she wasn’t there.

now we don’t know what the princess’ relationship with her father was like; this is not something that is discussed at all in the play. but i know what my relationship with my father was like. we didn’t always understand each other or agree on everything, but i loved him. and in a childhood where the concept of family was a loose one due to an over decade-long stretch of family drama, he was the one constant.

and then four days after my high school graduation, he was simply gone, never to return.

now some folks will probably go back to those days of late july and early august 2020 and see that i posted exactly nothing about all this. why? i just needed a space where i could forget, where i could live in denial for a little longer, where i could cling to something in my life that wasn’t about this unimaginable loss until i couldn’t anymore.

living in the late 1500s, with a whole country to newly run, no social media, and a permanent existence in the public eye, the princess does not have this sort of escape. she knows right away the awful truth. it is inevitable; she must leave this happy sojourn, this newfound love.

her first line after she realizes her father is dead shows that plainly: “boyet, prepare. i will away tonight.” and even as she plans to shut herself up in a mourning-house, it is at the same time that she will be learning first hand how to run her kingdom.

sixteen days after my father’s death, i left home to learn how to live on my own. and even before that, i got only five days of bereavement leave from work, and i went back to work the day after my father’s funeral. let alone the rest of the frantic preparations for leaving home and starting a brand new life alone—in the middle of a pandemic and now, with this grief weighing on me.

life and the world do not wait for grief.

and sixteen days is too fast to grow up.

you can’t just flip the switch from child to adult, especially when you’re grieving.

and when the world forces you to do so, it is truly awful.

there’s no closure to it. as another character mourns in the closing moments of the play, “our wooing doth not end like an old play.” well, neither did the princess’ relationship with her father.

to continue with the shakespeare allusions, as much as i love and am heartbroken by the deathbed reconciliation between king henry iv and prince hal in henry iv, part 2 (a scene i was lucky to get to read with socshakes last september and which still lives in my head rent free), sometimes it simply doesn’t work out that way and you’re still left to pick up the pieces and forever wonder what might have been in those final moments on top of it.

living without that���without those answers, without closure, without any sort of comfort, on top of everything else—is so, so hard.

it is widely accepted that the love’s labour’s won mentioned in the catalogues is, in fact, a lost sequel and not an alternate name for any number of surviving shakespeare comedies. and while i have never found love in the manner of any shakespeare comedy, i believe nonetheless that i am living the princess’ story—a young woman, always grieving, trying to learn about life and figure out how to live it in a hostile world, trying to balance all the things, trying to come to terms with closure that will never come to her.

love’s labour’s lost fills me with an ache by the end. a true heartache, a deep emotional pain like few other stories i have ever come across. when i first saw it, i praised it for being messy and real. i saw me in it. i saw my own grief. i saw what i could have been, the kind of person i was before that fateful and fatal summer, the realization that we must leave that self behind because they can no longer navigate this new world, the not wanting to let go, the not understanding why but knowing you have to anyway. to know you have to take the other road.

***

recently, for a local exhibit, a museum asked people in the area to send in writing about their regrets, something they wished had happened differently. mine was eventually one of the ones selected for inclusion. here it is.

in another lifetime, i am there when my father dies.

i am there, holding his hand, feeling the blood that connects us rush through him, hearing his breaths—however shallow.

skin on skin.

i’m able to tell him one last time that i love him, i will always love him. perhaps through all the pain that comes with a pancreatic cancer diagnosis, the sleep-like state he was in for most of the last two days, he will hear me and even respond.

my family can all grieve together, knowing we all saw it happen and we all got a strange sort of closure.

my relationship with him on this earth would not feel like a perpetually unfinished story, with an ending written when i wasn’t even there.

but it is this lifetime.

someone once said grief is just love with no place to go. i believe that. and, well, this is my life. i have to muddle through and believe, make closure out of thin air and time, let love go nowhere and everywhere.

***

so, life imitates art and vice versa. and thank you @socialshakespeare for letting me have this story that has come to mean so much to me in the few short months since i first came across it. <3

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1134: The Boyz' Meeting Session (Epithet Erased)

4:45 p.m. at Crusher's Living Room.........

Boyz: (Chatting Among Themselves)

Giovanni: (Sits Down Next to Crusher and Spike in the Middle) Alright, everyone, settle down! The villainous meeting is now in full session.

Boyz: (Continues Chatting with One Another)

Giovanni: Boys? Booooyyyys?

Boyz: (Continues Chatting with One Another)

Crusher: EVERYBODY SHUT UP!!

Everyone quickly cease their talking, finally giving their boss his needed attention.

Crusher: (Shyly Lowers his Head Down a Bit While Twiddling his Fingers Together) S-Sorry. That wasn't too loud, was it?

Spike: (Smiles Brightly at her Boyfriend along with Their Boss) Nah, man. You did great!~

Giovanni: We couldn't be more prouder~

Crusher then receives two kisses on both his cheeks by his two partners respectively before the meeting could really begin.

Giovanni: (Turns Back to the Rest of His Minions) Now, as you all are aware, we have one more week and approximately ten more days of September left before the first day of October will be upon us. Which could only mean one thing..........

Dark Star: That Halloween Store across the street from here, is about to open again soon?

Giovanni: No!....I mean, yeah, that's true. (Grabs his Chin While Thinking) And it's been a while since we've done something special for Halloween this year.....(Snaps his Finger While Pointing at Dark Star) Remind one of us to go by there before the 31st, will ya?

Dark Star: (Casually Salutes to Giovanni) Sure thing, Boss.

Giovanni: Now, for the ACTUAL answer to the question, earlier today, I've heard from a few sources that every first day of the new month, twelve boxes of Sweet Jazz's Pizzaria are scheduled to be delivered at the Planetary Workout Gym at roughly 5 p.m. sharp. So I figured, what better way to start off October this year.....(Forms an Evil Grin on his Face) Then to steal those boxes from right under their noses? (Notices a Hand Raise Up Before Pointing at Him) Yes, Four Eyed Sleeper Sheep!

Sylvie: (Has a Deadpinned Look on his Face While Lowering his Hand Down) Already not a fan nickname you've given me, Gio......

Giovanni: (Glares at Sylvie) Hey, that's MR. BOSS MAN to you too, mister. And it's a codename, not your run of the mill nickname! Learn the difference!

Sylvie: Alright, Mr. "Boss Man", if that's the case, then why give me a codename that's four words longer compared to everyone else in the room?

Giovanni: Cuz it sounds cool! (Starts Twiddling his Fingers a Bit) Plus, I came up with it a week or two ago, so it's work in progress kinda thing, you know?

Sylvie: (Squints his Eyes at Gio For A Bit Before Speaking) Sure.....Not that I'm completely against your ambitious schemes or whatever, but why couldn't you just order pizza to begin with?

Molly: Yeah, that probably would've save you the trouble from stealing boxes of them away from the gym.

Giovanni: Two reasons: One, the boyz and I were ban from ordering and ever stepping foot into the establishment a long time ago after the whole dinner escape fiasco. (Starts Squinting his Eyes at The Culprit) And we COULD'VE gotten away with it scott-free if weren't for certain SOMEONE whose name starts with a capital 'B'!

The rest of the boyz (with the exception of Nolly and Sylvie) starts turning their respective glares towards Ben.

Ben: (Flail his Hand Up and Down While Clicking his Teeth) C'mon, man. I said I was sorry! You know how I get when I crack under pressure!

Car Crash: Dude, all you had to do is keep quiet for a few minutes and let the boss do all the talking talking until the interrogation ends. It wasn't that hard!

Ben: It was for me damnit! I would've been more prepared if I'd known they'd be on to us the next day!

Giovanni: ('Sigh') Well, as dumb and unfortunate as that incident was, what's done is done, not like I wanted to back there in the first place now that charged most of their prices up. Did you know their medium pizzas cost $25.00 now?

Boyz: TWENTY FIVE!?

Spike: The hell kind of pricing is that!?

Giovanni: The greedy kind, that's what! Which is all the more reason why we need to give this Pizza Stealing Operation a fair shot.

Flamethrower: So what's the plan you have in store for us, Boss?

Giovanni: Simple: We hit the gym 5 p.m. sharp, maybe a couple minutes earlier than that just to be on the safe side, send our Ace in the Hole, that's you Beartrap, to sneak over to the other side of the room, grab at least two and three boxes, and quickly take them back to our getaway mobile without getting noticed, all while the rest of us are gonna have to at least spend an hour or two of working out.

Most of the Boyz starts groaning and rolling their eyes at the idea of working themselves out to the bone. It's like going to P.E. classes alll over again......

Giovanni: I know, I know, it's a tiresome plan on our part, but if we do this and play our cards right, it could give Beartrap enough time to sneak past by any nearby staff. (Shivers in Disgust) Darrel especially......

Dark Star: Wait, he works there now or something?

Giovanni: Yeah, and he won't shut up about it ever since! (Shows a Picture of Darrell Bragging About Working at Planetary Workout on his FaceTemplet Account on his Phone) Now that I think, it might be for better that I accompany Beartrap on the heist just in case.

Molly: (Nodded in Agreement) I agree. I can tell that Darrell guy is starting to put you on edge lately.

Sylvie On edge enough for you to wanna have yourself a mini therapy session on?~ (Smiles Brightly and Rapidly Blinking his Eyes For the Possibility)

Giovanni: Shimmer down a bit, Doc, I don't need any therapy. (Crosses his Arms) I just....REALLY hate that guy!

Spike: (Place a Hand on Top of Giovanni's While Giving Him a Reassuring Smile on her Face) We all hate Darrell, babe, but you don't need to get yourself worked up over that jerkwad all day.

Crusher: Yeah, you're WAY more hahdsome and cooler than he'll ever be!

Giovanni: (Heart Begins to Melt in Genuine Happiness as He Starts Blushing) You guys really think that highly of me, do you?

Spike: (Happily Hugs Giovanni Along With Crusher) Hell yeah, man. You're the coolest guy in this whole town~

Sylvie: That's highly debatable really.

Sylvie quickly gets shushed loudly by Crusher and Spike before forming another deadpinned look causing Molly to start giggling right beside him.

Giovanni: (Chuckles Lightly) Alright, alright. I'll try not to let him get me distracted for you guys sake. (Gives Crusher and Spike a Kiss on Both Their Cheeks) Hell, if this heist goes along smoothly, we might have ourselves a spooky movie night!

Flamethrower: You think we could watch something tamed, Boss? (Points at Ben With a Teasing Smirk on his Face) I don't think Ben here is gonna last a minute watching a horror flick in one sitting.

Ben: (Glares at Flamethrower) Excuse you!? (Crosses his Arms While Turning Away) I'll have you know that I can watch through a through an entire Horror, Halloween related movie just fine!

Sylvie: Just the other day, you started covering yours and shaking like a leaf over a Scooby-Doo movie.

Ben: (Turns to Sylvie) You would start to shake too if you're greeted by a creepy looking ghost flying around the room!

Car Crash: It was a fake.

Ben: AND!? It's still creepy looking!

Giovanni: (Sighs While Rolling his Eyes) Then we'll watch something that ISN'T Scooby related. (Turns to Molly) Got any suggestions, Beartrap?

Molly: Well....it has been a while since I've watch Scary Godmother.

Dark Star: Ah dude! Scary Godmother?

Spike: It's been so long since I've watched that!~

Car Crash: I know, right? It's so good!~

Crusher: I VOTE FOR SCARY GODMOTHER!

Flamethrower: Don't forget the sequel!

Giovanni: (Forms a Bright Grin on his Face) Scary Godmother 1&2 it is then!

Boyz: (Cheers in Rejoice)

Ben: Ah man, do we have to watch those movies? It used to creep me out when I was little.

Giovanni: Sorry, Ben, the vote is anonymous!

Sylvie: (Shrugs Casually) Gonna have to suck it and watch through, if you even have the small ounce of guts to begin with.

Ben: ('Groans in Pure Defeat')

@aprilbrowines

[myremnantarmy]

𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟑𝟎, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥

Tuesday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Mk 5:21-43

When Jesus had crossed again in the boat

to the other side,

a large crowd gathered around him, and he stayed close to the sea.

One of the synagogue officials, named Jairus, came forward.

Seeing him he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him, saying,

"My daughter is at the point of death.

Please, come lay your hands on her

that she may get well and live."

He went off with him

and a large crowd followed him.

There was a woman afflicted with hemorrhages for twelve years.

She had suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors

and had spent all that she had.

Yet she was not helped but only grew worse.

She had heard about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd

and touched his cloak.

She said, "If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured."

Immediately her flow of blood dried up.

She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction.

Jesus, aware at once that power had gone out from him,

turned around in the crowd and asked, "Who has touched my clothes?"

But his disciples said to him,

"You see how the crowd is pressing upon you,

and yet you ask, Who touched me?"

And he looked around to see who had done it.

The woman, realizing what had happened to her,

approached in fear and trembling.

She fell down before Jesus and told him the whole truth.

He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has saved you.

Go in peace and be cured of your affliction."

While he was still speaking,

people from the synagogue official's house arrived and said,

"Your daughter has died; why trouble the teacher any longer?"

Disregarding the message that was reported,

Jesus said to the synagogue official,

"Do not be afraid; just have faith."

He did not allow anyone to accompany him inside

except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James.

When they arrived at the house of the synagogue official,

he caught sight of a commotion,

people weeping and wailing loudly.

So he went in and said to them,

"Why this commotion and weeping?

The child is not dead but asleep."

And they ridiculed him.

Then he put them all out.

He took along the child's father and mother

and those who were with him

and entered the room where the child was.

He took the child by the hand and said to her, "Talitha koum,"

which means, "Little girl, I say to you, arise!"

The girl, a child of twelve, arose immediately and walked around.

At that they were utterly astounded.

He gave strict orders that no one should know this

and said that she should be given something to eat.

[snippychicke]

For the Sake of a Smile (V.2)Chapter Twelve

Title: For the Sake of a Smile (Revised)

Overall Rating: Mature (18+)

Chapter Rating: M for Mature. We've begun the 18+ content

Trigger warnings: Nothing beyond the child abuse hinted in the series, though we do explore the consequences a bit more.

Additional TW for depression/anxiety etc in this chapter. NO mentions of self-harm or suicide.

Main Pairing: Balam Shichiro/Reader

Summary: Hell on earth was your motto for your job. Granted, you were pretty sure earth really was hell, considering the shit you had seen in your life. And the fact your coworker was a child. 

A child named Suzuki Iruma, in fact. A kid who’s life was decidedly worse than yours, but yet he smiled despite everything. It wasn’t long after meeting him that you decided you’d do a lot for his smile. Including summoning a literal demon and signing your soul away.

But as it turns out, hell (The Netherworld, actually) was a lot better than living on earth. Demons were more humane than a lot of humans you knew.

And Iruma’s smile wasn’t the only one that would change your life.

Masterlist | Ao3| Mairimashitai! Simps Discord

You woke in a cold sweat, your mind sharply reminding you of the night before. 

You….you had kissed Balam. Called him Shichiro. 

You scrambled to sit on the edge of the bed, feeling panic trying to overwhelm you. Devi, what had you been thinking?! 

Obviously, you hadn't. You really hadn't been thinking. Caught up in everything, inhibitions lowered just enough. 

You grab your phone. You have to fix this. You have to apologize before it ruins everything. 

--+--

Balam woke to his phone going off several times in a row, ruining the dream he had been enjoying. He groaned as he reached over the edge of his nest and grabbed his phone, seeing your name on the screen initially, causing his stomach to warm as memories of last night replayed in his mind.

Your soft touch as you cupped his cheek, that warm look in your eyes. And when you pressed a kiss to his cheek; just teasing the skin above his mask - but it had been more than enough to excite him. 

Holding himself back had been nigh impossible. He had wanted nothing more than to rip his mask in and capture your lips in a real kiss. 

Except he also knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself there. Your smell had been too tempting, add in being able to taste you…

He pushed those thoughts aside and opened your messages, excited to see what you had to say so urgently this morning.

Only for his happiness to turn into a rock and settle painfully in his stomach.

//I am so sorry about my behavior last night!//

//that was completely unacceptable on my behalf and I apologize so much.//

//I really, really hope this doesn't change anything between us.//

//your friendship means so much to me and I don't want to ruin this.//

//please, can we just pretend I didn't do that?//

Ah.

He dropped the phone as it creaked ominously in his hand, allowing his fingers to curl into a fist and tremble at his side. 

Of course. Why… Why would you want him as a mate? His was too dangerous for a weak human such as yourself. How could you trust him not to hurt you? Not to speak of the physical differences between you and him, or his disfigurement. 

'But, she was interested. Pheromones don't lie,' His inner voice tried to argue, frustration tingeing the thoughts. 

Humans could be different. Are different. You had even admitted you had been unaware that you even had pheromones. Just because some part of you was attracted to him didn't mean you as a whole wanted him as a mate. 

But devi, he had wanted you. His heart felt like it was shattering in grief and rage that he was barely able to contain. He had been hopeful, so excited and happy.

Light in the room starts to dim as the vines feed off his mana, encasing the room in a protective shell. Balam was barely aware as he tried to control his anger.

Not at you - never towards you - but at fate; at whatever deity had allowed such a wonderful human into his life and allowed him to fall so hard for you, knowing that it would not work. 

The sharp talons of his fingers sliced through the fabric of his gloves, the scales on his limbs growing larger. Once, just once, he wishes fate wouldn't be so cruel to him. 

To put what he wanted most into one person; a human who didn't mind his touch, who shared the same passion of learning, who happily shared their knowledge of the Earthly realm. You who cared for the students, your adopted son, so fiercely as if you were truly their mother.

And your beauty. Your soft skin so delicate compared to his own. Dull nails and rounded ears so cute and unique. Your smile, your laugh. Everything about you - perfect.

and not his. 

His own growl snapped him out of his thoughts. He took a breath, surveying the room encased in tight vines. Feathers and scales erupting along his limbs as his body edged an Evil Cycle, his already unusually large fangs bared in a snarl. 

No. He couldn't. To allow himself to lose control would spell disaster until Opera or Kalego could knock sense into him. He screwed his eyes shut as he focused on his breathing, doing the unnatural and allowing his anger and frustration to go. 

It wasn't as if you hated him. You wanted to continue to be his 'friend'. You and Iruma both. He had a duty to protect both of you. His own personal precious treasures. 

You and your human heart, worried about offending him with your actions and apologizing. If you saw him now….

You wouldn't be scared. You would apologize, thinking it was your own fault. There would be tears in your eyes as you tried to help, because that's what humans did. They were compassionate, caring creatures, giving away their sympathy and kindness with no ulterior motives. 

It was no wonder why he fell for you, or why Iruma had his class united around him. He couldn't be selfish, wanting you all for himself. You had a right to choose.

Even if that choice wasn't him. 

--+--

By mid monday morning, there was a creeping feeling along the back of your neck that you were being watched. It was a feeling you were somewhat getting used to. Usually a day didn't pass without there being a student too nervous or afraid to ask for help that would hide and stalk you from the shadows until you noticed them.

But usually it wasn't so early in the morning; especially on a Monday when most of the student body was still recovering from the weekend off. (As well as most of the faculty, from what you could gather). 

You looked around carefully, trying to catch whomever was trying to spy on you - and was rather surprised to see Balam crouched behind a bookcase, watching you intently. 

You froze, your heart squeezing as you tried to pretend you didn't notice him while your mind struggled with what to do, or how to react. 

The events from the Brawl Inn continued to replay repeatedly in your mind during the rest of the weekend, which was not made any better by the fact Balam had been oddly… quiet. No texts or calls like you usually received, but the first silent weekend since you had met. 

Had he regretted your… parting gift? Was he trying to think of ways to re-establish the boundary you had broken? He had assured you everything was okay after you rushed apologies via text, but had it bothered him enough to ruin your friendship regardless? 

For a few minutes you tried to act like nothing was unusual, but couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes following you as you tried to carry on with your work. Finally, you gave in and turned to catch him red handed. Your eyes caught his and held his gaze while you gestured with your hands to express your befuddlement without drawing too much attention from the students lingering about. 

His face turned dark red once he realized he was caught, and he quickly stood to his full height, rubbing his neck in embarrassment.

"I would tease 'what secret do you know now,'" You said as he approached, a smile twitching at your lips. You couldn't help it, he was adorable -- looking rather bashful and awkward. "But I'm pretty sure you know all of them, so…?"

"Er, well," He stumbled over his words, making you even more curious. Finally he held up a fine-tooth comb, and the pieces clicked into place.

Oh. Oh! You had told him you would be willing to help him, after all.

You had to laugh at your own silliness and mentally wave off your anxieties. He wasn't here to confront you - either positively or negatively - about the other night. And if he wanted to act like nothing happened, you would be happy to follow along. Honestly, that was probably the best outcome. 

"Of course!"

He followed into your office and sat on the floor next to your small couch. Which worked fine in theory until you went to sit down behind him. That was when you had realized the problem. 

The only comfortable position you could find to brush his hair was by more-or-less having your legs thrown over his shoulders. With his head more or less  between your thighs since his shoulders were too damn broad for you to straddle.

Oh devi, you were so glad he couldn't see your face. You had to take a moment to calm your breathing and hope your heart wouldn't just explode from how hard and fast it was pounding. 

Nevermind the other effects his position was having on you. You sincerely hoped his sense of smell couldn't detect the changes as your body decided to join your mind in the gutter. 

(Unbeknownst to you, Balam was having similar thoughts, and also clenching his hands into fists to resist just pulling your legs closer still. They were so soft and warm, and he could barely resist the urge to nuzzle into them. And that sultry scent waking his other baser needs...

 He had not anticipated this when he gave in to his urge to seek you out. The molt had made him restless, breaking down his impulse control to the point that as soon as he had a free period, he had all but ran to you. Not only for you to brush his hair, but just to see you. To be near you again even if you didn't care for him in that way. But, dear Deities, why did you have to be so tempting?)

"So how's your monday going?" You asked to break the silence as you began to comb, starting at the end to carefully tease out any knots.

Instantly Balam relaxed, his head falling back against the cushion - his eyes closed. Your heart traveled to your throat to see him looking so blissful between your legs like that. 

"I can't reach the ends like this," You chided gently as you tipped his head back forward so you could reach the hairs that rested against the nape of his neck. It amazed you how long his hair had grown just over the weekend, becoming even fluffier and thicker. 

You absolutely loved it, to be honest. You wanted to bury your hands in it, or hell - nuzzle your face against the soft fluff but it would probably be inappropriate. And considering how you were trying to mend things after the weekend, you being a weirdo and smelling his hair would probably not exactly help things. 

"Better now," He answered your earlier question, his voice no more than a mumble - confirming how relaxing the moment was for him. And also making you feel worse about your own reactions.  "I just needed to see you."

You paused for a moment, heart once more leaping to your throat before you shoved it back down with a mental scolding. "Well, then I'm happy you stopped by," You answered carefully as you resumed your work, adding on a slight tease. "You're welcome here whenever, so there's no need to be so dramatic next time."

"I didn't mean to, I just… got distracted," He admitted after a moment.

You laughed at that, "By what, my stunning beauty?" You meant it as a joke, but he shifted in his place slightly - almost like a guilty child caught red-handed

"...Who did Raim want you to confess your feelings for?" He asked instead, almost eager to change subjects.

Your heart went from being in your throat to the pit of your stomach, and your whole body froze mid-movement. Curses of a thousand varieties screamed themselves in your head as you struggled to think. 

"Raim was drunk," You defended automatically before sighing. "But there's… this rumor going around since Walter Park," You started shakily, wondering if admitting this was really a great idea. But maybe… maybe it would help him see why you were acting jittery and oddly around him. "And it's led to a lot of people thinking we are… involved. And she and some of the others had been pressuring me to come forward with what they believe is the truth, no matter what I tell them."

There was no lie in that, and you hoped he couldn't tell the difference between someone being honest and just… slightly skewing the truth. 

Balam seemed to relax with a sigh. "I see. So… you aren't interested in one of the others."

"No," You answered honestly despite the pain in your chest, that selfish part of you screaming to just tell him everything. "I'm not interested in any of the others." Just you. But that's a fool's dream.

There was another pause before he quietly asked. "You would trust me, right? If you did have any feelings, I would help you no matter what. Though, being a human trying to court a demon would be very dangerous."

You laughed slightly, more self deprecating than anything as you started to comb his hair again. "Balam, I promise, I won't be so foolish. I mean, even on the off chance someone did somehow catch feelings for me, I don't want to press my luck. I have my family, and friends like you, which is more than I have ever hoped for. Why would I risk that for a foolish thing like love?" 

"Love isn't foolish," He argued unexpectedly, his hand stroking your lower leg mindlessly. "To follow your desires and ambitions is at the core of being a demon. I believe love is intricately linked to every demons ambition, to their… desires." 

You smiled fondly yet sadly. "Maybe that's the problem. I know Iruma is becoming more and more demon-like, in a way, but… well, I spent too long on Earth. To risk what I have now for a simple chance is foolish to me. I should be grateful for what I have, and not be so… selfish."

Balam was silent as you continued, though not still as he continued to pet, and even almost nuzzle your inner knee before catching himself.

"I wasn't trying to say you shouldn't risk it, just that it had risks."

The bell screamed the end of the class period, meaning only a short few minutes before the next one. Has it really been that long? Granted, he had been stalking you through the library for quite a while before you had acknowledged him...

Balam was careful as he shifted out from his seat and stood to his full height, looking down at you with such an odd expression on his face you couldn't quite place. Part of you felt trapped by his gaze, unable to look away as he brushes your cheek gently, tenderly. 

"You deserve to have whatever you want," He stated softly, causing your voice to catch in your throat and leaving you speechless as he left. 

Deserve whatever you want? It seemed like a laughable idea to you. How many times had you been told you didn't deserve anything? You had to fight to get what you needed, nevermind your desires and other such frivolous things. 

--+--

Days passed and your mood only darkened. Despite trying to tell yourself to be thankful for what you had, your heart decided it was going to be bitter. 

You did your best to act like everything was fine when in reality you felt anything but. No one in the Netherworld could apparently empathize with your predicament, which made you feel more alone and isolated than you would expect. 

Be bold. Reach for your desires. Never give up on your ambition. 

Everything that you were trained by life not to do; because all it ever led to was pain and misery. The only time you had gone against it in any way was for Iruma - and while it had ended rather positively, you weren't willing to risk it again; especially for your own selfish desires. 

However, apparently your acting skills were not up to par. Most of Babyls--student and faculty alike-- had noticed your withdrawn and quiet attitude despite the fake smiles and attempts at being cheery. You overheard students betting on when you would shift into an Evil Cycle, making you huff silently to yourself in dark amusement. 

//Would you like to have lunch together today?// Balam texted, making you smile faintly despite the ache in your heart. You had been avoiding him, and you knew he could tell. Yet despite the pain it caused -- like a knife digging into your chest-- you still couldn't bring yourself to do anything else.

You wanted to explain that humans had a variety of moods, and while they didn't trigger evil cycles, they did have a major impact at times. Like depression, or anxiety. The trauma of their youth didn't set their evil cycle, but lingered in a different way. 

But that would involve a long discussion: multiple questions. One he would likely want to meet in person about, and then his skinship would have you sitting close as he touched you with such mindless casualness….

It wouldn't be the best idea. 

//Not today. I have some work to catch up on, but thank you. Maybe some other time.//

You sighed as you set the phone down and rubbed your face, trying to will yourself to think of something else. To find anything else to focus on to stop this negative cycle of thoughts repeating themselves in your head. 

But you couldn't focus on reading, and mindless chores often allowed you to only lose yourself in thought even more. No one seemed to need help with anything at the moment, or they were giving you distance in fear of an Evil Cycle. 

Yet, even studying Runes seemed impossible. How could you bring up the thought of being protected without thoughts of Balam holding you? Or being strong and enduring without remembering how he withstood the dragon's attack at Walter park? 

Even trying to use the Kaunan Rune has you recall watching him train Az and Sabnock and showing just a glimpse of his physical power... His talons digging deep into the rock as he withstood their attacks, and then turning and slamming them both into the dirt as if they were nothing. 

You had to get him out of your head. 

"As much as it's a nuisance, trying to delay a Wicked Phase usually only makes it worse, my dear."

You groaned at the soft sultry tone of Raim. "Please, just leave me alone."

She doesn't abide by your wishes, instead saunting closer to your desk, a frown on her painted lips. "You're one of us now, dear. And that means we watch out for one another. Usually, when one of us starts sulking as bad as you, Dali or even the Chairdemon himself will force us to take a break and allow nature to take its course. Why they haven't with you yet is beyond me." 

You didn't have the energy to play virtual chess with your words. "Because dad knows me, okay?" You snapped back a little more forcefully than what was probably needed, judging by the surprise in her eyes. Instead of trying to wrangle yourself under control, you only continued. "He knows I'm hardly a danger to myself and others, and thankfully gives me some much needed space. Something I would very much appreciate if you and the others did the same, understand?" 

Her eyes narrowed as she smiled. "And if I don't? Why don't we go outside and settle this like a pair of ladies." 

Part of you yearned to. To get the bottled up feelings out through misplaced aggression. But logic broke through the fog of your mind and reminded you that in a fight, you were extremely outmatched. As fragile and dainty as she may appear, she was both a demon and a teacher of demons.

Your human ass would be dead in a heartbeat. 

"I don't have time," You deflected, turning away from her. "Don't you have a class or something to teach?" 

You were just a few steps from your office door as she spoke again. "Ah, I see. You're sexually frustrated." 

You froze, heart beating in your chest. She was just guessing. She was just digging into a known button of yours to get a reaction. 

Yet, you wondered how much she knew, being a succubus. 

"Maybe I'll go fetch Professor Balam to come… take care of you."

"Leave him the fuck out of this," You growled without turning around. 

"But why? It'd be killing two cockatrices with one stone. I mean, I thought being in a school full of teenagers was bad enough, but you two! Oof," She huffed before continuing after a slight pause. You didn't even need to turn to know there was another smile on her lips. "Really, if you don't take care of each other, I might be tempted to go help Balam myself, if just to get a reprieve from the sexual tension in the air." 

You were not jealous. You were not jealous. 

Yet the mental image that came unbidden in your mind of the Seduction Teacher using her wiles on Balam; being able to touch him the way you wanted to, kiss his flesh until it was well marked. To sit astride his large thighs and tease him until he was a quivering mess.

Or until he lost control and snapped, turning the tables. The dreams of being beneath him, overpowered by his frame until you were the one pleading filtered into your head, except Raim was in your place.

No. 

Stop it. 

"Oh?" She hummed, and you realized you had spoken out loud. "What was that?" 

You took a few calming breaths before you turned towards her. "I said stop it. Stop trying to goad a reaction out of me." 

She was leaning on your desk, hands supporting her head and emphasizing her beauty. "Sorry, but I don't think you understand. I came here to fix this problem, and I'm not leaving until I achieve my goal."

Achieve my goal

Ambition. Desire. That motivation to go after whatever they wanted with being crippled by fear. Demons don't care if they deserve something - or if what they wanted was out of reach, because they firmly believed that they deserved what they wanted. That if they desired something enough, they would find a way to get it.  

You wanted to be like them. 

But you weren't. You were just human. 

And for a moment, you hated them. 

"You don't fucking get it." You snarled as you marched towards her. "I'm not like you. I will never be like you. Do you want to know what it's like, being 'rankless'?" You sneered, barely catching yourself In time. "Yes, I want him. I want Balam with my whole heart, but I will never, ever, have him. Because of simply what I am." You took a breath, closing your eyes as you centered yourself. 

If you fucked up. If you exposed yourself, you were dead.  Iruma would be dead.

"And even on the Devi-forsaken chance that he would want someone like me," You continued in a softer tone, unwilling to look at her as you clenched your fists. "I don't know one thing about making that work. And I can't, I won't mess up the relationship I have with him now just because I'm so fucking selfish!"

"You would give him up, because of fear?" Raim asked, sounding both confused and disgusted. "Now I see. So this is why you're rankless despite having a father like Lord Sullivan and a son like Iruma."

You laughed, more hysterical than anything. "Yeah. This is my curse. To want so much and not be able to go after it. To realize that I'm worthless, even here. I'm only here because of luck, and nothing else. And I can't risk my luck running out." 

Raim shook her head as she stood. "I don't know what broke you dear, but maybe you could stand to learn the most basic lesson. The only one who sets your worth is yourself. Magic and power may be an important part of survival, but there's more to it than that. But if you feel you're worthless… then maybe you are." 

Even though you had said the words yourself, hearing her repeat them so casually was like a slap in the face. 

And also the last straw.

--+-- Su-Ki-Ma--+--

//Not today. I have some work to catch up on, but thank you. Maybe some other time.//

Balam frowned as he read your message. He had heard that you hadn't been your usual self, and had to agree. There was something obviously bothering you, causing the change. 

Iruma had expressed the same sentiment, admitting that even at home, you were quiet and tended to keep to yourself. Yet you kept insisting you were fine whenever he or Lord Sullivan tried to pry. 

Your words from earlier in the week repeated in his mind, and he couldn't shake the idea that maybe you had been trying to say something without actually saying it. 

Either way, he grabbed a tray of food from the Kitchens and marched down the halls towards the Library. 

He was going to figure out what was going on, one way or another. 

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

You'll change your name and change your mind (but you can't leave this fucked up place behind)

(Prompt #1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.”)

Notes: This one is settled in timeline 0 because I like starting strong. Some point of Sanzu's time in juvie.

To clarify, Baji avoids talking about Mikey in his letters bc he's aware Haru doesn't deal well with the news even if he doesn't know the magnitude of it. But Haru keeps asking every damn week and, from time to time, Baji sees himself forced to answer. Basically when he notices how damn anxious Haru is getting 😭

Warnings: Deciption of panic attacks, anticipatory grief handled poorly (he's twelve and an Akashi, we can't ask him more, idk). Manga spoilers.

As usual, it took him a while to decipher Keisuke’s confusing writing. It wasn’t something he was willing to confess — not in a million years, thanks — but Haruchiyo secretly enjoyed having to take his time on it. Trying to figure out what kanji was supposed to be each one of his friend’s doodles was the perfect way to avoid reading it in one go. 

Like this, every letter kept his mind occupied for hours and mail day got to be exactly that — a full day, instead of mere minutes stolen from his current situation. 

Except on the rare occasions where he could clearly see Mikey’s name standing out amongst the weird hieroglyphs. Those times, Haruchiyo’s heartbeat raced and his throat felt as if it was closing, while his foggy brain refused to give up and clung to the need to learn whatever news was hidden in that letter. 

Dread would settle under his skin for as long as it would take him to be able to read it whole — each second would feel like ages, ticking like a bomb that pressured him to go faster, to finish it before he ran out of oxygen. 

Whenever that happened, it always left him in shambles. It didn’t matter that his fear never came true — for now, deep down he knew it would, of course he fucking knew it — it forced him to confront reality anyway. 

A reality where he was trapped, incapable of doing anything else than wait and pray to whoever might be listening — please, let him see Mikey one last time at least, please. 

A reality where he was frozen in time while life went by. 

While death went by.

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

30th June >> Fr. Martin's Homilies / Reflections on Today's Mass Readings for Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Inc. Mark 5:21-43): ‘Your faith has restored you to health’.

Gospel (Except USA) Mark 5:21-43 Little girl, I tell you to get up.

When Jesus had crossed in the boat to the other side, a large crowd gathered round him and he stayed by the lakeside. Then one of the synagogue officials came up, Jairus by name, and seeing him, fell at his feet and pleaded with him earnestly, saying, ‘My little daughter is desperately sick. Do come and lay your hands on her to make her better and save her life.’ Jesus went with him and a large crowd followed him; they were pressing all round him. Now there was a woman who had suffered from a haemorrhage for twelve years; after long and painful treatment under various doctors, she spent all she had without being any the better for it, in fact, she was getting worse. She had heard about Jesus, and she came up behind him through the crowd and touched his cloak. ‘If I can touch even his clothes,’ she had told herself ‘I shall be well again.’ And the source of the bleeding dried up instantly, and she felt in herself that she was cured of her complaint. Immediately aware that power had gone out from him, Jesus turned round in the crowd and said, ‘Who touched my clothes?’ His disciples said to him, ‘You see how the crowd is pressing round you and yet you say, “Who touched me?”’ But he continued to look all round to see who had done it. Then the woman came forward, frightened and trembling because she knew what had happened to her, and she fell at his feet and told him the whole truth. ‘My daughter,’ he said ‘your faith has restored you to health; go in peace and be free from your complaint.’ While he was still speaking some people arrived from the house of the synagogue official to say, ‘Your daughter is dead: why put the Master to any further trouble?’ But Jesus had overheard this remark of theirs and he said to the official, ‘Do not be afraid; only have faith.’ And he allowed no one to go with him except Peter and James and John the brother of James. So they came to the official’s house and Jesus noticed all the commotion, with people weeping and wailing unrestrainedly. He went in and said to them, ‘Why all this commotion and crying? The child is not dead, but asleep.’ But they laughed at him. So he turned them all out and, taking with him the child’s father and mother and his own companions, he went into the place where the child lay. And taking the child by the hand he said to her, ‘Talitha, kum!’ which means, ‘Little girl, I tell you to get up.’ The little girl got up at once and began to walk about, for she was twelve years old. At this they were overcome with astonishment, and he ordered them strictly not to let anyone know about it, and told them to give her something to eat.

Gospel (USA) Mark 5:21–43 Little girl, I say to you, arise!

When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a large crowd gathered around him, and he stayed close to the sea. One of the synagogue officials, named Jairus, came forward. Seeing him he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him, saying, “My daughter is at the point of death. Please, come lay your hands on her that she may get well and live.” He went off with him, and a large crowd followed him and pressed upon him. There was a woman afflicted with hemorrhages for twelve years. She had suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors and had spent all that she had. Yet she was not helped but only grew worse. She had heard about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak. She said, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.” Immediately her flow of blood dried up. She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction. Jesus, aware at once that power had gone out from him, turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who has touched my clothes?” But his disciples said to Jesus, “You see how the crowd is pressing upon you, and yet you ask, ‘Who touched me?’” And he looked around to see who had done it. The woman, realizing what had happened to her, approached in fear and trembling. She fell down before Jesus and told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has saved you. Go in peace and be cured of your affliction.” While he was still speaking, people from the synagogue official’s house arrived and said, “Your daughter has died; why trouble the teacher any longer?” Disregarding the message that was reported, Jesus said to the synagogue official, “Do not be afraid; just have faith.” He did not allow anyone to accompany him inside except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. When they arrived at the house of the synagogue official, he caught sight of a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. So he went in and said to them, “Why this commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but asleep.” And they ridiculed him. Then he put them all out. He took along the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and entered the room where the child was. He took the child by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise!” The girl, a child of twelve, arose immediately and walked around. At that they were utterly astounded. He gave strict orders that no one should know this and said that she should be given something to eat.

Homilies (6)

(i) Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Each of us has our own unique journey to travel when it comes to our relationship with the Lord. The way we approach the Lord is unique to each one of us. The Lord respects our own unique way of relating to him. It is true that our faith journeys will have a lot in common. We share the same baptismal calling, to allow the Lord to live in and through us. However, how we answer that shared calling will be unique to each one of us. We each go to the Lord on different paths.

Today’s gospel reading features two people, a man and a woman, each of whom draw near to the Lord in their need. The man is given a name, Jairus. He was a synagogue official, someone who supervised the running of the local synagogue. He had a certain social status in the community. The woman is not given a name. She once had some financial means but she had spent all of her money on doctors in a failed attempt to be cured of her continuous haemorrhaging of blood. In that culture, her condition would have left her very socially isolated. She could not have joined the community when they gathered in the local synagogue. These two people approached Jesus in very different ways. The synagogue official approached Jesus in a very public way. Falling down at Jesus’ feet, he pleaded with him on behalf of his seriously ill daughter. It was highly unconventional for someone of his social standing to be throwing himself at the feet of someone like Jesus, regarded by most as a travelling prophet and miracle worker. Yet, distraught parents will go to any lengths on behalf of their seriously ill child. The woman’s approach to Jesus was secretive and private. She couldn’t bring herself to speak with Jesus face to face, like Jairus. Rather, she sneaked up behind Jesus not wanting him or anybody else to know she was there, and she touched his cloak. Perhaps she thought, because of her condition, ‘I am too worthless, too unclean, for Jesus to be interested in healing me’. She wanted an impersonal meeting with Jesus, hoping that would cure her.

However, Jesus wanted to meet her personally, just as he had met Jairus personally. He wanted to hear her speak to him, just as he heard Jairus speak to him. He wanted the woman to know that he was just as interested in her condition as he was in the sickness of Jairus’ daughter. That is why Jesus, when he sensed power had gone out of him, asked aloud, ‘Who touched me?’ As the disciples reminded him, all sorts of people were pressing around him, but Jesus knew that someone had touched him in a different way, not casually, but with great trusting faith. He wanted to meet her and affirm her faith. He wanted her to know that she mattered to him; she wasn’t a person of no worth. When she finally came out into public view, she did what Jairus had done; she threw herself at Jesus’ feet and told him the whole truth. Jesus immediately addressed her as ‘My daughter’, showing her that he loved her with the love of God the Father. He then publicly proclaimed her great faith to everyone present.

Jairus too had shown faith in approaching Jesus on behalf of his seriously ill daughter. His faith was now put to the test when, as Jesus was still speaking to the woman, word came through that his daughter had died. When Jesus said to him, ‘Do not be afraid, only have faith’, he could easily have pointed to the faith of the woman to inspire him. Jairus, who had shown faith in Jesus when his daughter was ill, now needed to keep faith in Jesus in the face of his daughter’s death. The faith of the woman had created a space for Jesus to work powerfully to bring her from a twelve year living death to new life. The faith of Jairus now created a space for Jesus to bring Jairus’ twelve year old daughter back from death to life.

Just as the Lord was present to Jairus and the woman in their need, he is present to us in our need too. He doesn’t mind how we approach him. Sometimes our approach to him will be very public, like that of Jairus. At other times, our approach will be more like that of the woman; we have secret wounds and we bring them to the Lord as privately as possible. Yet, regardless of our approach, the Lord is always there to receive us; he wants to relate to us in a very personal way, as ‘my daughter’ or ‘my son’. He will always relate to us as Life-Giver, because what he wants for each of us is life to the full. Even when we are faced with the death of a loved one, Jesus assures us that he has power over death and will bring those who turn to him through death into a new and glorious life, a sharing in his risen life. As Paul says in the second reading, Jesus ‘became poor for your sake, to make you rich out of his poverty’. He emptied himself of his physical life so that we could all come to share in the richness of his risen life.

And/Or

(ii) Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

We know from our own experience how one community can be a great resource to another community that may be going through a difficult time. In the second reading today, Paul calls on the Christian community in Corinth to provide for another Christian community that could not provide for itself. The church in Jerusalem had limited material resources and had known famine in recent times. Paul called on the church in Corinth to place their present surplus at the service of the Jerusalem church’s present need.

We are also aware that one individual can help another individual to get through a difficult period. Many of us may have found ourselves in the situation where we had to act on behalf of others who were in no position to act for themselves. We may have provided for sick children or infirm parents or friends who were immobilized for whatever reason. Our healthy legs were able to do for them what their weak legs could not do for themselves. Our resources of strength and energy compensated for their own lack of such resources.  

It is quite likely that many of us will have been in the reverse situation of needing others to do for us what we were temporally unable to do for ourselves. It can be much more difficult to find ourselves in this role of needing help than in the role of giving help. Giving can sometimes come easier to us than receiving.

In today’s gospel reading we find Jairus, the leader of the synagogue, placing all his resources of energy and love at the disposal of his dying daughter. She lay at home helpless. He would do all in his power to compensate for her helplessness. He took the initiative to seek out Jesus. He then threw himself at Jesus’ feet, pleading with him for his sick daughter. Jairus was a man who had a significant position of honour in his community. Such men did not normally throw themselves at other people’s feet. In the culture of the time this would have been regarded as a very dishonourable action. Yet, clearly, his daughter’s life meant much more to Jairus than his own reputation in the eyes of others. He acted as any parent would act whose child was in desperate need. Parents will risk their lives to save the lives of their child. They will enter burning buildings to rescue their child, even though in the process they are endangering their own lives.

One of the ways that we as individuals act on behalf of others is by praying for them. Jairus throwing himself at Jesus’ feet and pleading with him is a good image of our desperate prayers to the Lord on behalf of our loved ones who are seriously ill. When our prayers are not answered in the way that we would have wanted - when our loved ones die - we trust that those prayers have not been wasted. As Jesus brought Jairus’ daughter from death to life, we believe that he will do the same for our loved ones who have died. He takes them into a fullness of life. As the Lord instructed those present to give the young girl something to eat, we believe that he will take our loved ones to the banquet of eternal life.

Just as there are times when we energetically give everything we have for those who matter most to us, there are other times when we need to be equally energetic about taking some initiative on our own behalf. We can find ourselves in certain situations where it is we ourselves who have to make the primary move. No one else can really do that for us. The woman with the flow of blood in today’s gospel reading is a good example of someone who takes an initiative on her own behalf. She did not ask anyone to go to Jesus for her; she went to him herself. She showed great boldness in approaching Jesus in the way she did. In the religious culture of that time, a woman with her condition was expected to keep her distance from those who were considered Rabbis, as Jesus was. The cultural expectations of the time did not undermine this woman’s determination to make contact with Jesus for herself - even if it was only to touch the hem of his cloak. Jesus went on to publicly acknowledge her great faith. Here was a faith that was on a par with that of Jairus who threw himself at Jesus’ feet on behalf of his daughter.

If Jairus in the gospel reading and Paul in the second reading speak to us of our need to invest ourselves wholeheartedly in the care of those who are vulnerable, the woman in the gospel reading speaks to us of our need to invest ourselves in making contact with the Lord for ourselves and in growing in our relationship with him. Yes, the Lord certainly seeks us out, but he looks to us to seek him out too. The energy that drove the woman to make contact with Jesus, in spite of the cultural barriers to doing that at the time, was her awareness that she could only be whole and complete in and through him. We too look to the Lord to complete us; we too believe that it is only in relationship with him that we will become all that God is calling us to be. The first reading tells us that we were made in the image of God’s own nature. Jesus was the full image of God. It is in reaching out to touch him and to engage with him, like the woman in the gospel reading, that we too will grow into the image of God that we were created to be.

And/Or

(iii) Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

It often happens that we have it in mind to do something and we go about trying to do it. Then we are interrupted in some way; someone comes along that we were not expecting and holds us up and we don’t get to do what he set out to do at the time we intended to do it. If you are a certain type of person you can get very annoyed by this. You can be there waiting for the person to move on so that you can get back to doing what you think you are supposed to be doing. I can be a bit like that myself at times.

Yet, I have come to appreciate that every encounter is in some way providential. What can seem initially like an interruption can be where we are meant to be. The person who unexpectedly crosses my path and who could be seen as interrupting what I have set out to do, can be the person whom the Lord has sent into my life. Rather than seeing the encounter as an interruption to something else, it can be better to see it as a grace, as an opportunity. What I set out to do may not be what is most important d. Rather, the call of the present moment may be what really matters, the person who stands before me here and now.

I was reminded of all that by today’s gospel reading. One of the synagogue officials, Jairus, pleaded with Jesus to come to his daughter who was desperately sick. Jesus set out with him on this very important journey. On the way to the house of Jairus, Jesus had an encounter with a woman, which delayed him. It took up precious time. Yet, Jesus did not react angrily or dismissively to this interruption. Indeed, the contrary was the case. The woman with the flow of blood simply wanted to touch the clothing of Jesus, without holding him up in any way. It was Jesus who ensured that the fleeting encounter that the woman was looking for became, in reality, a truly personal encounter, a real meeting between two human beings. When Jesus noticed that power had gone out of him because of the woman touching his clothing, he stopped, turned around in the crowd and asked, ‘Who touched my clothing?’ He wanted to meet this woman, in spite of the urgency of the journey on which he had set out. Eventually the woman came forward, frightened and trembling, not knowing what to expect. Jesus addressed her in very tender terms, ‘My daughter’, he said, ‘your faith has restored you to health’. He engaged her in a very personal way; he called her into a personal relationship with him. This was the task of the moment. Some people would have seen this encounter as an unfortunate interruption; as a result of the delay Jairus’ daughter had died before Jesus could get to the house. Yet, for Jesus this encounter with the woman was of ultimate significance; it was a moment of grace. It was the prelude to an even more wonderful moment of grace in the house of Jairus when Jesus not only healed the very sick girl as he was asked to do, but raised him from the dead.

The gospel reading encourages us to pay attention to the interruptions in life. What can seem like distractions can be where the Lord is calling us to be. When our plans do not work out as we wanted because of some unexpected turn of events, it may not be the disaster that we think it is at the time. Sometimes when our plans do not work out, it can create the space for something else to happen that we did not plan but which, in itself, can have great value for ourselves and for others. In the story we have just heard, Jesus gave himself fully to the interruption. He could have kept walking when the woman touched his clothing, but he attended to her. That was the call of the present moment for Jesus. In answering that call, he was doing God’s work, and the task he initially set out to accomplish did not suffer. Jairus had his daughter restored to him. There are times in life when we need to embrace the interruptions, rather than just driving on with our head down towards the goal we have set for ourselves. We can misjudge where the real work lies. We often need to come to a deeper appreciation that the interruptions are our work, especially when they involve responding with compassion to the needs of others. When we set out on a journey, what happens on the way can be more important than arriving at our destination.

And/Or

(iv) Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

One of the greatest of human sufferings is for a parent to lose a child in death. There can be nothing more devastating. The emotional pain involved is like no other. Those who try to journey with parents in the face of such a devastating loss struggle to know how to accompany them. They know that there are no words that can bring consolation. There is a sense of helplessness that is shared by everybody. If the parents are people of faith, their faith can be shaken to the core, as is the faith of those who are trying to journey with them. We cannot help asking the question, ‘Why did God allow this to happen?’ ‘Where is God in the midst of this terrible loss and pain?’ The bond between a parent and a son or daughter is so deep and profound, that when the son or daughter suffers, the parent suffers equally and if the son or daughter dies something dies in the parent. A parent will move heaven and earth to prevent this from happening. A parental love is a very unique love; it is all absorbing; it simply overrides every other consideration. In a very literal sense, parents live for their children, because when they look upon their child, they are looking upon themselves, bone of their bone and flesh of their flesh.

We find a powerful expression of that parental love in this morning’s gospel reading. Jairus was a synagogue official, the father of a seriously ill twelve year old girl. We are told that he fell at Jesus’ feet, pleading with him earnestly. For a man of his social standing to fall at the feet of a travelling prophet would have involved a loss of honour and dignity on his part. However, such considerations were irrelevant at a time like this. He pleaded that Jesus come to his home and Jesus responded. Yet, as Jesus was on his way, he was delayed by someone else’s need and before he got to the house the terrible news came through to Jairus, ‘your daughter is dead’. This is the devastating, world shattering news that no parent should ever have to hear. Those who brought this news to Jairus told him not to trouble Jesus anymore. Now that the young girl was dead, Jesus had no further role to play. It seemed reasonable advice. Perhaps that advice reflects how parents feel when they hear similarly awful news. ‘Why continue to relate to the Lord?’ ‘He has failed us. Why bother with him?’ Even those of us who have had to cope with less serious losses than a parent’s loss of a child can find ourselves asking the same questions. Yet, it was precisely at this very moment, when the reasons for trusting had been taking away, that Jesus says to Jairus, ‘Do not be afraid. Only have faith’.

Jesus called upon Jairus to have faith in the face of his daughter’s death. The Lord continues to call out to us to keep faith even in the face of a death that seems to make no human sense. The gospel reading tells us that when Jesus reached Jairus’s home, he took his daughter by the hand and brought her back from death to life and ordered that food be given to her. This was not the experience of many other parents in the time and place of Jesus whose little children died. It is not the experience of parents today who lose a child in the way Jairus did. Yet, this incident in the life of Jesus was recorded in our gospels because it was recognized that it had something important to say to believers of every generation. The Lord’s words to Jairus are intended for all of us, ‘Do not be afraid. Only have faith’. We are being reminded that Jesus can and will bring new life out of our many deaths, including those deaths that leave us devastated. That new life is ultimately a sharing in the Lord’s own risen life.

The story of Jairus frames another story in our gospel reading, the story of a woman who displays the kind of faith that Jesus called on Jairus and calls on all of us to have. She too had to come to terms with great loss. Because of her physical condition she would have been considered ritually unclean in that culture, in the way that lepers were; she was an outcast. Not only had she lost her all her finances, but she had lost her community. However, she hadn’t lost her faith. She found her own way to Jesus, a way that was very personal to her, and unknown to everyone else. Yet, her way of touching Jesus in faith was not unknown to him. He called her forth from the crowd so that she could witness to her faith before others. When she did so, Jesus addressed her as ‘my daughter’. This woman models for us a faith that endures in the face of all the odds, a faith that brings us into a deeply personal relationship with Jesus, even in the midst of loss, a faith that opens us up to the Lord’s life-giving presence.

And/Or

(v) Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

None of us are ever fully aware of what is going on in another person’s life. What we perceive of someone never fully corresponds to the reality of their lives. We only fully reveal ourselves, if we do so at all, to those with whom we have a trusting relationship. Many of us have secret wounds that very few people know about. Sometimes, someone we know very well might reveal some secret wound to us that we had never suspected was there.

A woman features in today’s gospel reading. She has a secret ailment that nobody knows about. She had spent all her money looking for a cure, to no avail. Somehow, she made her way to Jesus, as a last resort. The secret nature of her ailment and the shame it probably brought her led her to approach Jesus in a secret, furtive, fashion. She touched the hem of his garment, hoping that nobody, including Jesus, would notice her. This woman makes her own way to Jesus. She hasn’t the courage to meet him face to face. Touching Jesus’ cloak was as much as she could do, and, yet, it was enough to open her up to Jesus’ healing presence. The gospel reading says that as soon as he touched his cloak, ‘she felt in herself that she was cured of her complaint’. She reminds us that there is no one way to approach the Lord. We each approach the Lord in a way that is personal to each one of us. Jairus, the other main character in today’s gospel reading, approached Jesus in a very different way to the woman. He was a synagogue official, a person of standing in the community. He approached Jesus in a very public way on behalf of his seriously ill daughter, falling at Jesus’ feet in full view of the large crowd that had gathered. There are two very different approaches to Jesus here, and, yet, each approach is deeply personal to the person who made it and displayed a deep faith and trust in the Lord’s healing presence.  

Jesus was equally present to the synagogue official and to the woman who was probably excluded from the synagogue because of her ailment. He was respectful of the very personal but very different approach of each of these people. He recognized the trusting faith which motivated both of them. When word came through that Jairus’s daughter had died, he said to him, ‘do not be afraid; only have faith’, literally, ‘keep on believing’. Jesus calls on Jairus to keep alive the trusting faith that he expressed in Jesus when his daughter was ill now that his daughter has died. Jesus wanted to publicly acknowledge the trusting faith of the woman. That is why he asked, ‘Who touched me?’ He was inviting the woman to come out of the shadows so that he could declare her faith before everyone.

Jairus and this woman were in many ways polar opposites but what they had in common was a trusting faith in Jesus in the face of great suffering, a faith that Jesus recognized and affirmed. Each of these characters, in their unique way, encourage us to keep trusting in the Lord when the shadow of death seems to hang over us in one way or another. Their distinctive stories tell us that our trusting faith can create an opening for the Lord to work in ways that can surprise us. The Lord remains present to us all in a life-giving way. The story of Jairus in particular shows that Jesus never loses hope when death seems to triumph. When word came through that Jairus’ daughter had died, people said to Jairus, ‘Why put the Master to any further trouble?’ In other words, ‘the situation is hopeless’. The professional mourners were already in place. Yet, when Jesus arrived at Jairus’ house, he turned them all out. Jesus showed he had power over death. This is why we can approach him with trusting faith even at a time of death.

When Jesus went into the room where Jairus’ daughter was lying, apart from the child’s parents, he took with him three of his disciples, Peter, James and John. He wanted them to share in his life-giving work. Those three disciples represent us all, because the Lord wants us all to share in his life-giving work. We can be channels of the Lord’s healing presence through our own attentive, loving presence to others. We know all too well from history and from what is happening all around us that people can bring death to others in various ways. This must break the Lord’s heart because, in the words of today’s first reading, ‘God takes no pleasure in the extinction of the living’. In the second reading, Paul calls on the church in Corinth to reveal the Lord’s life-giving presence by giving generously out of their surplus to meet the needs of the impoverished church in Jerusalem; they are to bring new life to what was at the time the mother church. In so far as we approach the Lord with the same trusting as Jairus and the nameless woman, we too will have a surplus to share with those in need. In approaching the supreme Life-giver, we become life-givers for others.

And/Or

(vi) Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Each of us has our own unique journey to travel when it comes to our faith, our relationship with the Lord. The way we approach the Lord is unique to each one of us. The Lord respects our own unique way of relating to him. It is true that our faith journeys will have a lot in common. We share the same baptismal calling, to allow the Lord to live in and through us. However, how we answer that shared calling will be unique and special to each one of us. We each go to the Lord on different paths.

In today’s gospel reading two people, a man and a woman, approach the Lord but they do so very differently. The man is given a name, Jairus. He was a synagogue official, someone who supervised the running of the local synagogue. He had a certain social status in the community. The woman is not given a name. She once had some financial means but she had spent all of her money on doctors in a failed attempt to be cured of her continuous haemorrhaging of blood. In that culture, her condition would have left her very socially isolated. She could not have joined the community when they gathered in the local synagogue. These two people approached Jesus in very different ways. The synagogue official approached Jesus in a very public way and falling down at Jesus’ feet pleaded with him on behalf of his seriously ill daughter. It was highly unconventional for someone of his social standing to be throwing himself at the feet of someone like Jesus, regarded by most as a travelling prophet and miracle worker. Yet, distraught parents will go to any lengths on behalf of their seriously ill child. The woman’s approach to Jesus was secretive and private. She couldn’t bring herself to speak with Jesus face to face, like Jairus. Rather, she sneaked up behind Jesus not wanting him or anybody else to know she was there, and she touched his cloak. Perhaps she thought, because of her condition, ‘I am too worthless, too unclean, for Jesus to be interested in healing me’. She wanted an impersonal meeting with Jesus, hoping that would cure her.

However, Jesus wanted to meet her personally, just as he had met Jairus personally. He wanted to hear her speak to him, just as he heard Jairus speak to him. He wanted the woman to know that he was just as interested in her condition as he was in the sickness of Jairus’ daughter. That is why Jesus, when he sensed power had gone out of him, asked aloud, ‘Who touched me?’ As the disciples reminded him, all sorts of people were pressing around him, but Jesus knew that someone had touched him in a different way, not casually, but with great trusting faith. He wanted to meet her and affirm her faith. He wanted her to know that she mattered to him; she wasn’t a person of no worth. When she finally came out into public view, she did what Jairus had done; she threw herself at Jesus’ feet and told him the whole truth. Jesus immediately addressed her as ‘My daughter’, showing her that he loved her with the love of God the Father. He then publicly proclaimed her great faith to everyone present. Jairus too had shown faith in approaching Jesus on behalf of his seriously ill daughter, but his faith was now put to the test when, as Jesus was still speaking to the woman, word came through that his daughter had died. When Jesus said to him, ‘Do not be afraid, only have faith’, he could easily have pointed to the faith of the woman to inspire him. Jairus who showed faith in Jesus when his daughter was ill now needed to keep faith in Jesus even in the face of his daughter’s death. The faith of the woman had created a space for Jesus to work powerfully to bring her from a twelve year living death to new life. The faith of Jairus now created a space for Jesus to bring Jairus’ twelve year old daughter back from death to life.

Just as the Lord was present to Jairus and the woman in their need, he is present to us in our need too. He doesn’t mind how we approach him. Sometimes our approach to him will be very public, like that of Jesus. At other times, our approach will be more like that of the woman; we have secret wounds and we bring them to the Lord as privately as possible. Yet, regardless of our approach, the Lord is always there to receive us; he wants to relate to us in a very personal way, as ‘my daughter’ or ‘my son’. He will always relate to us as Life-Giver, because what he wants for each of us is life to the full. Even when we are faced with the death of a loved one, Jesus assures us that he has power over death and will bring us through death into a new and glorious life, a sharing in his own risen life. As Paul says in the second reading, Jesus ‘became poor for your sake, to make you rich out of his poverty’. He emptied himself of his own physical life so that we could come to share in the richness of his risen life.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[green-fifteen]

Day 6: Stretch

 Fandom: Supernatural

Relationship: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Word count: 2,988

written for @fluffyfebruary

read on ao3 instead

Dean’s boyfriend is an angel. Probably lots of people say that, but when Dean says it, it’s actually true.

Castiel is the whole package: wings, good looks, asshole parents, you name it. Dean asked him if he kept a halo lying around and he’d just never seen it, but Cas told him that those 14th century paintings were rotting his brain. Well, he didn’t say it like that, but that was the gist. He even has a special, terrible, otherworldy form that he won’t show to Dean. 

“I do not want your brain to leak from your eyes,” he’d said, but Dean thinks he’ll wear him down eventually. 

Despite being an actual angel, Castiel is getting the hang of living with humans pretty well. Dean worked very hard to socialize him and teach him all the right vocabulary. There are still hiccups, but they’re working on those as they come up.

Like, the other week Cas had gone with Dean to buy groceries. While he was in another section, Cas had found the free samples. Dean arrived in time to see the kosher sausage saleswoman begin to sob. Dean rushed to comfort her while Cas chewed a frank with scientific interest. What did you say to her? he questioned in the car. Cas looked impatient. I told her the sausage was not actually kosher. And that her mother won’t kick her out for dating the girl at the cheese counter. I was being kind, Dean. Dean had given him a dubious look and lectured him about boundaries until they got home. 

Anyway, even accounting for the occasional misstep, Cas is doing much better in human society than he had been four years ago. Sure, people can usually tell he’s an angel just by looking at him, but it’s not like that’s a secret. In fact, Dean practically writes it on his forehead in the mirror every morning, he mentions it so much. I CAN KISS AN ANGEL WHENEVER I WANT!

And it’s not that Dean is smug about locking down a divine creature of unknowable power (although he is), he just thinks Cas shouldn’t have to hide in his own town. He’s aware that some angels do hide, when they live among humans. Cas’s brother Michael moved to Tulsa and wears straps to keep his wings down inside his power suits. He says it’s only until he can find a job, but Dean doesn’t want that for Cas. Not ever. 

Even before he really knew Cas, he was fascinated by his angelic nature. The first time he saw him, they’d both been sixteen. Dean was coming home with Sam, who was in the same school as him for once and taking the same bus. He was taller than him at only twelve years old. (Yeah, his brother was a genius who skipped grades. Dean was sick with pride but pretended to make a fuss about his kid brother harshing his game with the high school chicks. Sam just rolled his eyes and told him to stop blustering. ???)

A boy with gigantic wings had been standing in the driveway of the house next to theirs, helping the adults move boxes from an oversized U-Haul. His back had been turned to them, so he hadn’t noticed either of them slowly walking up the path to their front door. Dean and Sam both were staring openly, forgetting themselves in their surprise at seeing some kind of bird-boy in a weird linen shift.

It was Sam who gasped softly and said, “Dean, I think he’s an angel,” which is why he’s the genius. The angel kid had turned around and seen them then, but he didn’t react except to stare, creepily. His parents noticed him looking and made some hand gestures and then the boy sighed and walked over. They were frozen on the paving stones, watching him approach. 

“Mother and Chuck said to introduce myself. I’m called Castiel, in your tongue.” 

Just as he finished speaking, the door to their house opened and their father called, “Hey, Stretch, get the good rune-chalk from the cellar, would you? We’re re-doing the basement tonight.” 

Sam stomped off rudely, obedient and irritated. Dean didn’t have the talent for wards like his brother did, which was just as well in his book because he didn’t have to do stupid shit like play twister with chalk lines in the cold-as-hell basement. 

Dean and Castiel watched as he rounded the house, then focused on each other once more. They made eye contact and Dean wanted to smile at the serious expression on his face, but he didn’t. 

“I’m Dean,” he said and reached out a hand. It hovered lamely in the air when Castiel didn’t take it. He pulled it back and wiped his palm on his jeans. 

“So, you guys just move to town?” he asked, awkwardly.

Castiel glanced back at the U-Haul. “Yes.” His tone said obviously. 

“Uh, how do you like it?” 

“We arrived 40 minutes ago.” 

Dean was beginning to wish he was better at drawing runes. He made a few more lame attempts at small talk, hoping Castiel would remember he was supposed to be helping his parents with the truck full of boxes and let Dean escape inside. He didn’t, just answered Dean’s inane questions with bone-dry syllables and never stopped looking directly in his eyes. 

“Listen,” Dean said eventually. “I’ve got homework to do and dinner and stuff.” And to be polite, he said, “Maybe you could come over for dinner? Anytime you want to, you guys are welcome.”

He cringed at himself. His dad would probably not like hosting the neighbors for dinner and honestly, Dean didn’t even know these people. What if he’d just sentenced his family to an entire night of conversations as awkward as this one?

The angel had accepted the invitation with disproportionate gravity (I thank you for opening your home to us, Dean) and they’d parted. The next night, he showed up at the Winchester’s front door at 5 o’clock, alone. 

“Is this too early?” he asked, peering around Dean into the house. 

Dean shook his head mutely, gave him a polite smile, and waved him inside. When he stepped in, Dean’s dad looked up at them, gave Castiel a quick once-over, then quirked an eyebrow at Dean.

“This is Castiel,” he explained quickly. “His family moved in yesterday, next door. I invited him over for dinner.”

John looked like he wanted to laugh. “How neighborly, son,” he said. Dean flushed and escaped to the kitchen, dragging Castiel behind him. 

The big white wings were tucked modestly against his body and Dean was distantly grateful, considering all the glass jars and framed pictures they had in the kitchen. He made himself busy with setting the table, ignoring the persistent awkwardness Castiel summoned in him.

“You can get the cups down from that cabinet,” he said, pointing. He followed each of Dean’s instructions until the table was ready, heaped with enough spaghetti and meatballs to feed a small Italian town (as long as they weren’t that particular about eating sauce from a jar.)

Sam crashed into his chair when Dean hollered and their dad came leisurely to the kitchen a minute later. Sam gave Castiel a toothy smile.

The angel seemed perturbed when they started eating.

“You won’t say grace?” he asked.

Dean felt caught. He looked at his dad, who glowered slightly.

“Not anymore,” he said curtly. Castiel just looked thoughtful.

The humans ate quietly, focused on their plates. Castiel was eating slowly, watching the others and copying their behavior. He saw Sam mop the edge of his plate with a piece of buttered bread.

“Stretch,” he said, politely. “Please pass me the bread.”

There was a confused silence before Sam hesitantly passed him the bag of Wonder Bread.

“You meant me, right?” he asked, muffled through a full mouth of food.

Castiel just said, “Yes. Thank you, Stretch.”

Dean stared at him for a second and then lost it. His laugh started strangled as he tried to keep it in, but he really couldn’t stop himself. He had to put his fork down on his plate.

That night had been Cas’s first lesson in humanity. Sam had formally introduced himself (Dad just calls me that because I’m tall, he explained, red-faced) and Dean eventually stopped laughing long enough to finish his dinner. When the food was gone, he pulled Cas out of the kitchen, saying Dad and Sam’ll clean up, I cooked and you’re a guest.

Cas asked him what he liked to do for fun. Grinning, Dean took him to his bedroom and climbed out the window. When they were both on the roof, sitting silently and listening to the soft noises from the town and the woods behind the neighborhood, Dean realized Cas was surprisingly easy to talk to.

And that had only been the beginning. After that night, Cas was at their house all the time, listening to Dean talk with the focused attention of a congregant. Dean  took the responsibility of educating him very seriously and taught him the funniest swears first. He had a lot of fun with that until Cas absently called Dean’s (admittedly crotchety) grandma a ‘shithead’ where she could hear him. He’d had a hell of a time explaining himself while simultaneously guarding Cas from rapid elderly thwacks.

Dean doesn’t spend as much time at Cas’s house, which is how they both like it. Cas’s parents make John Winchester look like a stoner hippie Kindergarten teacher. They’re really strict, is the point. And startlingly conservative, for a pair of people who were pooh pooh’d out of their angel community because Cas’s mom had a second marriage. Needless to say, they aren’t terribly warm toward Dean. They’ve never been rude to his face, he doesn’t think. But their lack of approval is clear. 

Even before the first time Cas had kissed him, they sometimes made excuses why he couldn’t see Dean and, around Dean’s seventeenth birthday, took him along on a business trip to Springfield, even though there’d been nothing for him to do there. Cas had missed his party and been angry with them for weeks. Dean thinks Cas’s parents knew about them before they did, which is why they told Dean things like Castiel is studying for his exams, after he knew Cas’s homeschooling program was already finished for the summer. And Castiel needs to rest, he has.. the flu, on a clear August day. (Dean was pretty sure angels coldn’t get the flu, then Cas had barged past them out the door, looking very hale and pissed off.)

They did figure it out eventually, though. It started when were both newly eighteen and sitting on a blanket in the park, watching The Matrix Reloaded. Sam was in front of them, eyes glued to the side of the white plaster building where the movie was being projected. Dean had made dumb jokes all throughout the first movie, much to Sam and Cas’s irritation. He was distracted as the second movie played, looking at the side of Cas’s face. Cas was just so focused and interested.

On screen, Persephone was bargaining with Neo. You have to make me believe it’s her, she was saying. Neo kissed her briefly and she pulled away. Terrible. Forget it. 

When the movie ended, they took a break to stretch their legs and walk around a curving path opposite the building. Sam stayed behind, happily snacking and waiting for the third movie in the marathon to start. 

“What did you think?” Dean had asked, kicking rocks in front of his feet. 

Cas made an assessing noise. “There is... a lot going on in these films,” he eventually said, voice as starched and diplomatic as Dean had ever heard it. Dean laughed, punching him on the arm. 

“You must have liked some of it,” he insisted playfully. 

Cas was quiet for a long moment, walking next to him and looking at the ground. He spoke as they reached a bend in the path. “I was curious about one scene,” he said slowly. “The character-- what was his name, the important one?”

“Neo.”

“Neo was trying to convince that woman to show them to the Key-person. And he had to kiss her.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Her husband was cheating on her and she wanted to hurt Trinity’s feelings, I’m pretty sure.” He hadn’t been paying that much attention, but Sam had made him watch these movies eleven million times before tonight. 

“He had to kiss her well. She could tell when he did it wrong.” Cas stopped walking and turned to Dean. “Is there a way to kiss wrong?” His eyes were a little panicked, like he hadn’t even thought about kissing anyone before but now he had to worry about doing it incorrectly. 

Dean smirked. “I’m pretty sure there is, yeah.” He made a showy gesture to his own face. “Not that I’ve had any complaints.”

Cas looked unimpressed. “I believe you have to have customers first, to recieve complaints.”

Dean had flushed and spluttered, “I’ve kissed people, dude! Last summer, I kissed Alexis Ford at her birthday party! With tongue!

“Alexis lost a bet,” Cas said, cruelly recontextualizing the one and only kiss of Dean’s young life. Dean glowered and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“I bet you’d be a bad kisser,” he grumbled. He didn’t mean it. Actually, he’d thought about kissing Cas earlier that evening, during the first Matrix. And in the car on the way to the park. And the day before, when Cas greeted him on the lawn after work. And at least forty other times since they’d both graduated high school. None of those imagined kisses had been bad. They’d been pretty embarassing, though, which is why he slam-dunked them into the “do not talk about to anyone” drawer in his head. And then locked it. 

Cas looked offended. “What is your evidence? I’ve never kissed anyone. There’s no data.”

“I just know. It would be slimy and horrible, somehow.”

They were behind the building now, out of view of the picnic area. They were almost alone, except for a few people hurrying to the restrooms.

“You’re just being hurtful,” Cas said, sounding cross. “I think I could kiss well if I were able to practice. It has to be a skill, like anything else.”

He stopped walking, suddenly. Dean halted in place, looking over his shoulder at him. 

“I’ll kiss you,” he said, head tilted. He grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him. 

“Ack! Hey!” Dean protested. 

“You can tell me if it’s bad. If I need practice.” He had that look on his face then, the one he got when he was gung-ho to learn something about humans that only Dean could teach him. 

Dean swallowed, keeping his eyes on Cas’s resolutely. “Um, are you--” he swallowed again. “Are you sure?” The idea of pulling away from him had occured to Dean and he knew it was probably the better one, but instead he stayed right were Cas had put him, heart hammering. 

Cas nodded, then stood looking at him for a long moment. 

“Dean?”

“Uh, what?”

Cas rolled his eyes, huffed a little can he be this stupid? sigh and kissed Dean on the lips. 

A terrible, pleased noise escape Dean’s throat and his hands moved up without his input, catching and holding Cas’s shirtfront. When Cas pulled away, his eyes were wide. 

“That was--” he cleared the gravel from his voice. “That didn’t feel very bad.”

Dean had been zapped into goo and couldn’t speak. Cas touched his own lips with an awed expression and Dean wanted to kiss him again, so bad. He gathered himself enough to croak, “Beginner’s luck.” 

The angel’s eyes immediately flashed at the challenge and he reeled Dean in with a hand at his back. They made out behind the building until Sam came looking for them midway through The Matrix Revolutions. 

After that, it had been zero to sixty-- Dean was Cas’s boyfriend to everyone they met. Cas met him on his lunch break from the garage and kissed him in front of his dad. Dean dragged him out onto the roof to take his clothes off of him and dig his fingers into the clean white feathers of his wings. 

Now, Dean has been kissing Cas (and a little bit more than that) for two years. Cas checks Zillow every day and sends him houses he likes the look of. Dean has programmed ‘This is not in our budget’ into his texting app so he doesn’t have to type out all the words every time Cas sends him the listing for another million-dollar development property. 

Chrissake, Cas, you’re a guidance counselor and I fix cars. Think a little smaller, babe, he told him. Cas made a face and told him not to swear. 

Dean can see a future for them and he wants it more than anything. He keeps teaching Cas human things like replacing the goddamn toilet paper and how much detergent to use in the washing machine. He’s still weird in an obvious way, and Dean still doesn’t want to change that. He thinks they’ll be sitting on their front porch, Dean old and gray, Cas looking however the hell he’ll look in sixty years (Dean should ask him, actaully), and Cas will still make remarks like Dean, these adult diapers do not wick nearly as much moisture as the packaging claims. He thinks he’ll still smile at him, every time. He’ll still feel the same way he did when Cas made him laugh for the first time at the dinner table. He’ll want to keep him. Forever. 

When he looks at Cas, wide eyed like a newborn and holding Dean’s hand in the supermarket, at the park, in line at the DMV-- forever doesn’t feel like much of a stretch. 

[nugsanart09-works]

speedrunning my teapot

okay so as my roster's nova, they know damn well on how i go from "gone for literal years" to "bulldozing through every quest available within a day" — the latter being specifically when i spedrun through the liyue quest (that i've been neglecting for years now whoops) for the taste testing teapot event. yep, i have shit priorities and it shows lmao

little note that i believe the aurora bot allows the sunshines what the nova's current status is at the bare minimum unless asked for further information

if your system aurora is a menace, it would report what your current motivation is if its nova don't talk while playing — for extra ammo, it might even go full throttle by telling the sunshines even the most minute detail it can tell them i.e. if you're too busy staring at zhongli's ass and the like

moving on, so after twelve (12) hours of grinding i finally have my teapot at trust rank 4 and im just gonna bullet point it with a bit of chatbox-esque dialogue thingie:

everyone in my main party (lumine, barbara, xiangling and shinobu) are main victims of the entire ride. the secondary team – dubbed as stamina squad – suffered the second half of the day the moment i got the teapot (razor, rosaria, amber and jean)

《— •▪︎{★}▪︎• —》

first half: the archon quest

AURORA [bot]: 【 NOVA [insert username] IS DISTRACTED. PAIMON AND TRAVELER, PLEASE STANDBY AND PAY ATTENTION. 】 Team: *groan* Paimon: not again!

i will admit it now: i was not paying attention the whole time

except for the perfume part. i was relentlessly choosing the fruitiest options possible and having paimon (and likely the other party members) suffer my bs

timeus you lucky bastard– (if you played the recent windblume event then you know why i'm cursing this man rn)

xiangling be going "really? right in front of my stove/dad" the entire time i was with ying'er lol

sorry gurl but ying'er's everything is too hilarious to pass up

TARTAGLIA: nothing personal~ Shinobu, having just released her skill: wait, FUCK—! 【 SHINOBU (LV.20) HAS BEEN SLAIN 】 Shinobu, in the chat: every. damned. TIME. Lisa and Yanfei: *comforting her because they've been through the same thing*

shinobu dies a fuckton and @yeelimso had once stated that the resident inazuman def would not like me for the bs i put her through

take note that she's stuck at the level 20 the entire time that i've been using her

yeah she def hates me lol

no boss battle ends without shinobu at least dying once

barbara desperately keeping the team alive while she herself is on life support

the team suffering my shit coordination with my keys (setting off their bursts at wrong time or the wrong person gets their burst activated) as i lowkey panic whenever i see the ballista's hp going lower than 20%

barely got through that boss battle ngl

fucking fatui

still felt bad for childe tho but eh stinky red poo poo man + such is politics lol rip bozo

《— •▪︎{★}▪︎• —》

interlude: getting the teapot

aka round two of my team suffering my gay ass feat. yanfei

yanfei is so good in this quest like man her big brain holy shit 😳

sunshine yanfei dying inside as her nova gay panics over her earthshine self

there are literally three moods in this quest: (1) yanfei admiration, (2) head empty hours with paimon, and (3) appreciating madame ping's eyebags for some reason

god, im so sorry yanfei 🙇💦

《— •▪︎{★}▪︎• —》

second half: speedrunning the teapot

if you've seen some of my genshin reblogs the past few days then you know that this was a long time coming

deadass prioritized aloy > everybody else

which def would've made her uncomfy if she is self-aware whoops

oh well, at least she has her little outdoor retreat all the way over the corner of my teapot

left my mansion empty until trust rank 2, which caused me to go on a shopping spree

i felt bad when kaeya's lines hit me with "well decorated" and "homey" but there's only a dining set there

now my lobby is filled with bookshelves for days

along with other knicknacks

meanwhile... razor and jean: *material collecting noises in the distance intensifies*

noelle and rosaria are now with him too! because if i do get isekai'd in the "sagau" these people are my to-go to and i need their friendship rank high stat

i fed them so much food you have no idea—

paimon has a room of her own and that is the only other room that is furnished (for now)

she deserves that much after all the bullying i inflicted on her lmao

hmmm... seeing that i never use my sticky honey roast batches so i might as well feed paimon those later

the event is going to end soon so yee imma try to wrap this up to further speedrun

that's it for now. i haven't slept since yesterday and it's, haha, past noon here... yeah, imma continue the gaming later...

i hope you enjoyed!

again, if you want to use my version of sagau, please tag me. other than that, feel free to use it as your base!

[waterfall-ambience]

17 with Luna, 5 Damien, and uhh 7 with Phobos?

How does your OC sabotage themselves? 

Captain Luna has some of the ‘normal’ self-sabotage behaviours like isolating from others when he’s sad, neglecting his health, ruminating on things that happened decades ago/things he can’t control, etc.

But right now, he has this major problem of never really asking or accepting help, even when he needs it. The whole Wither King fiasco we’re seeing? He’s almost constantly turning down other people’s offers to help him- “Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle it”, “Thank you, I appreciate the concern, but you mustn’t trouble yourself”.

He’s almost convinced that he can do everything his way, and that he can do it alone, for better or for worse.

(This will bite him in the ass later in Arc 1 when he tries to save Damien and defeat the Wither King all by himself.)

The guy has a not unfounded (but definitely unchallenged!) subconscious belief that he’s better than everyone else. Because his immortality is forced but manual, he’s very aware of how much older and more experienced he is than most of the other Perpetua members. On top of that, the Key makes him almost a god among men, and as it’s guardian, he’s internalised this idea of “with great power comes great responsibility” to the point where he throws himself at almost every responsibility because he thinks he has the power to fix it. He’s not conceited about it or anything, and will happily let others contribute to a solution.

But when push comes to shove? He’s not a team player.

The worst part is that he hasn’t recognised this in himself. He thinks he’s better than this- after 230 years he’s had over triple the expected lifespan for a human, double that for a lucky human, and twelve times the amount of time Augustin had. He thinks that he’s got most of the flaws in his character sorted out (not that he’ll admit it), but he doesn’t.

It’s hardly been challenged, though, because calling Captain Luna ‘egotistical’ feels wrong. Hero-worship aside, he’s just a nice guy to most people, and hardly anyone (with the relatively short amount of time they spend on Perpetua) recognises it in him except during moments of crisis.

Does your OC get lost easily? What do they do when they do get lost?

Damien’s sense of direction isn’t horrible, but if you only give them verbal instructions on how to get to a place, chances are they’ll get it wrong.

(“First…or second exit? Was it room thirteen or thirty? Sixteen? Fuck! Did they say Corridor B, or D? Upstairs or downstairs?! Where do I go from the ibis tapestry? Is this even an ibis? It’s not like, a heron, right?”)

If you give them a map or some visual way of getting to a location, they’ll have a much easier time.

How they respond to being lost depends on how much of their abilities they can use. Before the Wither King undoes the life binding and takes away their infinite magic stamina, they’ll probably just fly up to a high enough vantage point and orientate themself based on what landmarks they can pick out. God help them if they’re indoors.

Without any magic or outside help, they’re likely to pick a direction based on what information they have (however little that may be) and hope that they end up in the right spot (“It’s a sort of kinesis movement! I learned about this! If a flatworm can do it, so can I!”). The odds that they’ll start crying and throwing up increases the longer that this goes on, especially if they think they are late.

Realistically, could your OC (in their normal circumstances- i.e. at their own house/battlecamp/spaceship etc.) keep a small child alive for a week if they had to?  A Dog?  A Houseplant? A rock with a smiley face painted on?

Phobos could probably handle a small child. He won’t be particularly happy about the situation, but the kid will live. They’ll probably be exposed to violent video games, sure, or maybe traumatised by decades-old CGI, but no immediate danger except for watching him commit arson or something. He, however, will end up exhausted.

The dog is the happy medium in that it doesn’t need as much attention as a small child, but it’s enough of an active presence for it to not fade into the background. The dog will live, and he might actually have fun with it.

The houseplant is where things get dicey. There’s a good chance that he’ll forget to water it, or water it too much. The plant, being sessile, is dangerously close to being an inanimate object that he can just forget about. After a week, it will probably live. After two, you’re playing with fire. Any more than that, and just prepare for him to have gotten a replacement plant and claim that it’s the same one.

The problem with the smiley rock is that it’s hard to tell if you’re doing a good job at taking care of it. Avery would probably get on his case about either not feeding it enough sprinkles, or feeding it too many. Do rocks even like sprinkles? It’s quite a lot of sugar to be giving to a rock. Who knows, it might already be dead.

[old1ddude]

Faith in the Future Troutdale, Oregon

Okay, I saw Louis in the flesh a few weeks ago and it’s about time I wrote up my experience.

The McMenamins-Edgefield amphitheater is a lovely venue for outdoor concerts.  There are plenty of tall trees surrounding (and a few within) the field, so the whole thing is shaded fairly early on June evenings.  Due to heavy traffic through greater Portland, we were not as early as we had hoped, but did find a spot for our low beach chairs about halfway back.  The venue was not crowded (except for right in front of the stage, which was a separate, roped off area I think.)  I believe it was roughly half of full capacity (which would have been quite crowded.)  As it was, halfway back, we had respectful distances between our party and those who surrounded us.  85%-90% of the crowd appeared to be females in their mid-late twenties.  There were a few men around the same age scattered about along with some couples who were 50 plus.  If I had to guess, I’d say the vast majority of the crowd were old 1D fans.

I didn’t know what to expect from Andrew Cushin, but his short set blew me away.  He was charming, humble, grateful and disarming  when he talked to the crowd and poured out his entire soul with every song he sang.  He only himself, a guitar, and a keyboardist -- and that’s all he needed.  He sang about some very painful things (such as his alcoholic father) but he has an absolutely beautiful voice.

Next up were the Snuts and I would have enjoyed most of their songs had it not been for the lead singer’s voice.  His sound is harsh, shrill, nasal and just plain ugly.  I’m sure he could sing nicely, but this is apparently his style, or brand.  I HATE ugly art!  It was quite a contrast with Cushin (who made beautiful art from ugly, painful experiences.)  The Snuts make otherwise good songs obstreperous and ugly.

I’ve Been Lying to Myself

While I’m not one to watch much fan video of live concerts (the audio quality is just awful and you often hear the crowd more than the artist) I have seen many, many clips of Louis performing live.  Upon seeing these clips, I have consistently (in my head) blamed any deficiencies in Louis’ vocals on things like the crowd singing off key.  (And to be fair, the crowd, more than often, does sing VERY badly and no where near in key.)  However, after listening to a live show in person, it’s clear that Louis can’t carry a tune very well.  At the beginning of every song, I would hope he had hit his stride and would pull off a decent vocal - only to end up wincing at some point, because he would hit some absolutely sour notes.  Now, a lot of very famous artists (Springsteen, Petty, etc.) could be a little off key, but gratingly sour is another matter.  I think Louis might well be aware of his shortcomings, because he doesn’t seem to have much confidence on stage.  His voice is mixed like a background singer, so his very proficient band comes through much, much louder and clearer than his vocal.  Meaningful interaction with the audience seems limited to those within twelve or fifteen feet of the stage.  I certainly didn’t expect to make eye contact with him (especially with those sunglasses he wore -- what was up with those?) but please make some effort at playing to the whole venue.  Louis as a live performer is in one word, disappointing.  I take no joy in saying the most memorable part of seeing Louis live, for me, is sour notes and very little stage presence.

“Faith in the Future” is one of my favorite alums.  My favorite tracks include:  “Written All Over Your Face,” “Face the Music,” “Chicago,” “All This Time,” “Headline,” “Silver Tongues,” “Common People” and “Angles Fly.”  The only songs I usually skip are: “The Greatest” (it’s okay, but I was never into Imagine Dragons music) ” Bigger Than Me”  and “She is Beauty...”  Louis writes some very good music and is occasionally brilliant with his lyricism.  The thing with lyrics is, the way they sound is just as, or more important than what they say.  Some of his best lyrics come from “Silver Tongues” such as:  “You said love was a pretty lie, And I choked when your smoke got in my eye...” and  “ You said grass was a dirty drug. You like to preach with a vodka in your mug.”  Also, the way he delivers those lines on the album is sublime. 

I’m sure Louis has a long future, if he wants it, in music, but I don’t know how long he can sustain a career as a live performer.  Something tells me that even people like Swfity (who shows zero talent for music, lyricism, or staying on key) must have impressive stage presence.  From what I’ve seen a thousand times in clips, but only admitted to myself after seeing him live, Louis just doesn’t have “it” on stage.  I wish him the very best and I hope he proves me wrong one day.  For now, I’ll continue enjoying his music, but don’t see myself paying to see him live again.