#when I was twelve except I was Aware the whole time. I was aware and it was terrible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

infinitelytheheartexpands · 10 months ago

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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

#personal #thoughts #love’s labour’s lost #love’s labor’s lost #on humanity #on grief #on growing up #tw cancer #tw parental death #tw grief #words words words #theatre #plays #theater #my writing #if you made it this far thanks for reading <3 #shakespeare #william shakespeare

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lightpartyadventures · 13 days ago

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Redna 2

Not many are aware of this but Redna het Cassia was an accomplished Disciple of the Hand and Land. Indeed she was a generous soul who went out of her way to help others not just in danger but those in need of tools, supplies, clothing, and more. Rumor has it much of her skills came from the teaching of a close friend of her’s, Hunmu Ty’ukuk. A Horathgar (or Xbr’aal as is the Turali term) hailing from the northern half of Tural prior too the tragedy after the appointment of the second Dawnservants.

Not much is known about this part of her life, but we are fortunate enough to have access to writings about her from the various guild leaders of her time. As of now, we only have the accounts of Ul’dahlan guilds but hope to have the records from other Citystates soon.

The following excepts have been generously donated by the various guilds of the Citystate of Ul’dah, without whom a large part of this generous individual’s history would have been forgotten. Thank you and may you ever follow that which guides you.

Redna has always been an outstanding member of the guild. Putting in twice the hours of most native workers with the payload to show for it! You would be hard pressed to find a more dependable miner then her. Although she tends to be fairly removed from the other miners. Whenever one would put up the invite for drinks at the Quicksand she would politely but quickly decline, before disappearing into the city streets. We now know she prefers the company of her family and the Lemures but at the time she came off as quite stand offish.

-Adalberta: Guild Master of the Miners Guild of Thanalan

Not gonna lie too you, Redna scared me for a while at first. Almost every time she would look at me it would be with this glower like I had spat in her wine. When she first joined the guild I think she listened to Gigi more then myself hehe. Of course, I came too learn overtime this wasn’t contempt but expectations. She saw potential in me I didn’t even see myself! It was a number of years later she came out too me about it. I still feel awful for how I let her down back then but I wouldn’t be the guild master I am today if she didn’t push me back then!

-Serendipity: Guild Master of the Goldsmiths Guild of Thanalan

An exemplary assistant if I ever had one! Redna never fails to have exactly what I need for a project at a moments notice, sometimes even before I request it. I’ve also never seen such clean concoctions from anyone besides myself in all my years. Oh of course I knew about her heritage. There are certain alchemical techniques that only those of Garlean teachings would know and she blatantly displayed them before me multiple times. There was never any doubt in my mind that she was a pure soul however. I can think of no kinder individual then her.-Severain: Guild Master of the Alchemists Guild of Thanalan

The most imaginative mind ive ever known! Redna has made garments for clients that I could only dream of! Her stitchwork is exemplary and her understanding of what the client needs is second too none. She used too deliver orders for the guild for years before joining and you can tell she studied the works she carried carefully. A more meticulous craftswoman you will be hard pressed to find.

-Redolent Rose: Guildmaster of the Weavers Guild of Thanalan

Redna. What can I say about Redna? I guess a better question would be what can’t I say about her. I remember when her and her family first arrived here. Weary, broken, with her father barely lucid from his injuries. All we knew at the time was they had barely escaped the tragedy of Bozja. Even then the girl had that look in her eyes. Like she was willing to fight the whole world for those she loved. And by the Twelve did she prove it. Starting that seemingly average morning where she came too my desk damn near demanding to become an adventurer. I was shocked and not a little apprehensive then. I knew by that point the truth of her family, one can’t miss such secrets in my position. I was scared for her and her family if this went south. But all it took was one look at her face too know that I couldn’t fight her. She had that same look as before you see. The look of a hero.

-Momodi Modi: Proprietor of the Quicksand and Representative of the Adventurers Guild in Ul’dah

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#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv wol #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv rp #ffxiv spoilers #redna

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blackhakumen · 1 year ago

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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

#epithet erased #giovanni potage #molly blyndeff #sylvie ashling #crusher #spike #car crash #dark star #flamethrower #ben #Giovanni and the boyz #group meeting #humor #cute romance #giovanni x spike x crusher

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 2 days ago

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4th February >> Fr. Martin's Reflections/Homilies on Today's Mass Readings for Tuesday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time (Inc. Mark 5:21-43): ‘My daughter, your faith has restored you to health’.

Tuesday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except GB & 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 (GB) Mark 5:21-43 ‘Little girl, I say to you, arise.’

At that time: When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered about him, and he was beside the sea. Then came one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name, and seeing him, he fell at his feet and implored him earnestly, saying, ‘My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well and live.’ And he went with him. And a great crowd followed him and thronged about him. And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better but rather grew worse. She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. For she said, ‘If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.’ And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, ‘Who touched my garments?’ And his disciples said to him, ‘You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, “Who touched me?” ’ And he looked round to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him and told him the whole truth. And he said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.’ While he was still speaking, there came from the ruler’s house some who said, ‘Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the Teacher any further?’ But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the ruler of the synagogue, ‘Do not fear, only believe.’ And he allowed no one to follow him except Peter and James and John the brother of James. They came to the house of the ruler of the synagogue, and Jesus saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. And when he had entered, he said to them, ‘Why are you making a commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but sleeping.’ And they laughed at him. But he put them all outside and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him and went in where the child was. Taking her by the hand he said to her, ‘Talitha cumi’, which means, ‘Little girl, I say to you, arise.’ And immediately the girl got up and began walking, for she was twelve years of age, and they were immediately overcome with amazement. And he strictly charged them that no one should know this, 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. 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.

Reflections (8)

(i) Tuesday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

When Jesus set out walking to the house of Jairus in response to Jairus’ urgent plea for this daughter, his urgent journey was interrupted by a woman who approached Jesus furtively for healing. Yet, Jesus gave himself fully to this interruption. He could have kept walking when the woman touched his clothing, but he attended to her in a very personal way. That was the call of the present moment for Jesus, even though he was on an urgent mission. 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. 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 matters don’t turn 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. When what we had planned doesn’t quite come to pass, it can create the space for something else to happen that we did not plan for but which can have great value for ourselves and for others. Sometimes 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. Sometimes 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 just as important as what happens at our destination.

And/Or

(ii) Tuesday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

There are two stories in this morning’s gospel reading. There is the story of Jesus healing the daughter of Jairus and the story of the healing of the woman with a flow of blood. The woman’s condition not only cost her a lot of money on physicians but would have left her on the margins of the community. In virtue of her condition she would have been considered ritually unclean and would not have been able to attend the synagogue. On his way to the house of Jairus, Jesus is interrupted by this nameless woman who furtively touches the cloak of Jesus and, as a result, experiences healing of her condition. Although he is interrupted while on an important mission to heal Jairus’ daughter, Jesus looks to engage this woman in a very personal way. She simply wanted the most secretive and impersonal of contacts, the touching of Jesus’ cloak. Jesus wanted more. He sensed a woman of faith had touched him and had opened herself to the life-giving power of God’s kingdom at work within him. Jesus wanted to acknowledge this woman’s faith publicly; he wanted her to witness publicly to her own faith in him. When she comes forward to do so, Jesus assures this woman who had been excluded from the community that she belongs; he addresses her as ‘daughter’. She is as much a daughter of Abraham as anyone else. Jesus also acknowledges that while many people were touching him, her touching him was an act of faith that was life-giving for her. The story suggests that when we are heading somewhere and we are delayed or interrupted, the interruption can be just as important as the destination towards which we are journeying. Jesus shows us that the interruption can often be an opportunity to reach out to someone in a way that leaves them with a greater sense of belonging.

And/Or

(iii) Tuesday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

In this morning’s gospel reading, two people approach Jesus for help. One was a synagogue official named Jairus, a person of some standing in the community, who approached Jesus very publicly on behalf of his dying daughter. The other was a nameless woman who would have been excluded from the synagogue because of her condition and who approached Jesus very privately on her own behalf, discreetly touching the hem of his garment. For all their differences, these two people had something in common. Their need was great, and they approached Jesus in their need. They also shared a great trust in the power of Jesus to bring life where there was death. Faith in the Lord can bring together people who otherwise might have very little else in common. The church, the community of believers, is very diverse. All of humanity is there. The gospel reading also suggests that the Lord wants to engage with each one of us in our uniqueness. He wants a personal relationship with each of us. That is why he wanted to meet the woman who touched the hem of his cloak. He needed to look into her eyes, to talk to her, to confirm her faith that led her to him. The woman who wanted to be anonymous found herself addressed by Jesus as ‘my daughter’. The Lord calls each of us by name; he relates to us as the unique individual that we are.

And/Or

(iv) Tuesday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

This morning’s gospel reading gives us two stories that are interconnected. At the centre of the two stories are two adults who differ greatly from each one. We are given the name of one, Jairus; he was a synagogue official and, therefore, a person of reasonably high social status and probably well to do. The other person is a woman, whose name we are not given; she had a condition which excluded her from the synagogue and had become impoverished because of her illness. Here we have two people from opposite ends of the social and religious spectrum. Yet, they have something in common and that is their trusting faith in Jesus as the Lord and giver of life. Jairus fell at Jesus’ feet in a very public way; the woman came up behind Jesus and secretly touched his cloak. One didn’t mind being noticed; the other didn’t want to be noticed. They approach Jesus in very different ways but their faith is equally strong. Yet, it was the woman that Jesus challenged to be more public about her faith, with the question, ‘Who touched me?’ The Lord looks to us to publicly witness to our trusting faith in him. Our public witness is a support to the faith of others.

And/Or

(v) Tuesday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Jesus asks many questions on the pages of the four gospels. It can sometimes be worthwhile to notice the questions he asks and to sit with them. In this morning’s gospel reading we have one of those questions, ‘Who touched me?’ The disciples found this a very strange question, ‘You see the crowd is pressing round you and yet you say, “Who touched me?”’ The disciples were saying, ‘how can you ask that question; there are dozens of people touching you’. Yet, Jesus knew that one person touched him in a way that was different. Many people were brushing up against him; one person took the initiative to make personal contact with him. When Jesus discovered who it was, he said to her, ‘your faith has restored you to health’. The woman was seeking him out in a way that was not true of others who were around him. The Lord is always passing by; he is always among us. Sometimes we can brush up against him without paying him much attention. The woman shows us the value of a very personal and very deliberate reaching out towards the Lord. The gospel reading suggests that this is how we will experience his life-giving presence in our lives.

And/Or

(vi) Tuesday, fourth week in Ordinary Time

In this morning’s gospel reading, two people approach Jesus in their need, one a well-to-do synagogue official and the other an impoverished woman. There is quite a difference in the way that each of them approaches Jesus. The synagogue official approaches him in a very public way, falling at Jesus’ feet and pleading with him earnestly before the crowd that was gathered around him. In contrast, the woman approached Jesus in a very private way, coming up behind him through the crowd and touching his cloak. She didn’t have the self-confidence of the synagogue official. Perhaps she felt unworthy to be approaching Jesus. After all, she was a woman; she was penniless; she had a physical condition that, under the Jewish Law, rendered her ritually unclean and prevented her from entering the synagogue. Yet, Jesus wanted a personal encounter with this woman; he wanted to engage publicly with her, just as he had engaged publicly with the synagogue official. That is why he asked aloud, ‘Who touched me?’ When the woman eventually came forward, Jesus addressed her as ‘My daughter’ and commended her for her faith. The gospel reading reminds us that the Lord does not make distinctions between people. He wants each one of us to approach him in trust as beloved sons and daughters regardless of where we find ourselves in life. There is nothing that need block us from confidently coming before the Lord in our need and opening ourselves to his personal presence to us.

And/Or

(vii) Tuesday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

This morning’s gospel reading presents us with two interlocking stories. Two desperate people approach Jesus in their need, a man and a woman, a prominent person within the synagogue community and someone excluded from that community because of her physical condition. Both stories make reference to touching. Jairus pleads with Jesus to come and touch, lay his hands, on his seriously ill daughter, and Jesus goes on to take Jairus’ daughter by the hand and lift her up. The woman reaches out and touches the hem of Jesus’ cloak. In both stories, the act of touching brings life where there was death, healing where there was sickness. Both stories can speak to our own faith lives. The Lord wants to touch our lives in a healing and life-giving way, as he touched the life of Jairus’ daughter. The Lord does not relate to us at a distance. As he entered the home of Jairus and took his daughter by the hand, so he enters our homes, our lives, and takes us by the hand. He has entered fully into our human condition and meets each one of us where we are. The Lord who comes to us also desires us to come to him, like the woman in the gospel reading. As he touches our lives with his presence, he looks to us to touch his presence with our faith, like the woman. Michelangelo’s masterly painting of God creating Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel comes to mind. The Lord reaches out to touch our lives and, in doing so, moves us to reach out in faith and touch his presence to us.

And/Or

(viii) Tuesday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

The grief of David in the first reading is very moving. Even though his son Absalom had led a rebellion against his father, he was still David’s son and on hearing the news of Absalom’s death David grieved bitter tears, as any father would for a son, even a rebellious son. In the gospel reading, we hear of the death of a daughter, not a rebellious daughter but a young girl of twelve years of age. Her death causes people to grieve, to weep and wail unreservedly, in the words of the gospel reading. The death of children is especially heart-breaking, especially for the child’s parents. In the gospel reading, Jesus takes the child by the hand and restores her to life and instructs that she be given something to eat. The evangelist is showing us that the power of Jesus is stronger than the power of death. This became very evident to the early church in the light of the resurrection of Jesus. As believers in a risen Lord, we continue to grieve when a loved one dies. Yet, there is hope in our grief because we are convinced that the Lord is stronger than death. If we open ourselves in faith to the Lord, like Jairus and the woman with the flow of blood in the gospel reading, we will experience his life-giving power just as they did. Jesus remains the life-giver for all who turn to him in faith, both in the course of this earthly life and, especially, at the hour of our death.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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5trawberry5hampoo · 12 days ago

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scrub & rinse: tinder and flames

As an eighteen-year-old, the most pressing thing on my mind is, of course, a boyfriend. I’ve never been good at romance. I’ve been reading romance novels and watching romcoms since before I can remember, but I get stuck when it comes to actually flirting with someone.

And, like many other romantically desperate late teens, I downloaded Tinder. And Hinge. And Bumble. The whole nine yards. And if you’re wondering, the situationship I mentioned from last time didn’t pan out. At all. We weren’t a situationship and that became even more apparent when he said he didn’t think we were “romantically compatible.” I’m not bitter about it at all, if you couldn’t tell. Since I’ve moved on from that romantic prospect, I’ve turned to the bitter wasteland that is Tinder in the Midwest.

It's bleak. Last week, the second image on a guy’s profile was Donald Trump post-assassination attempt. Yikes! The guy I’ve been trying to talk to currently, who I will be referring to as Felon, is certainly interesting. Our first and only in person interaction was him coming to my job to buy a pair of shoes that we didn’t have. Felon was cuter than his profile and incredibly kind. He had my number because I gave it to him to use my employee discount, and then I realized that might’ve been a bad idea. He asked about my hobbies, which was standard for first time talking to a pretty “girl” from Tinder. And he was extremely relieved when he found out I wasn’t in high school. Did I mention he’s 23? A fully grown, adult man, liking an eighteen-year-old on Tinder and not seeing anything wrong with that, except for that they might be in high school. Yeah, sure, whatever. And then I went to bed because this morning I had to wake up at six-thirty in the morning. I’m on that college grind, or whatever.

He had sent me six messages while I was asleep. SIX! The last thing I had sent was about how I thought “big and meaty and smelly” was hot. My fault for leading him into what he was about to send. He said he wanted to throw me around. Throw me around? It’s not like my life is a weird, bodice-ripper romance novel. And, not to embarrass myself online or anything, but I’ve never had sex. I’m not the type of person to drop everything to go get “thrown around” at twelve in the morning. He also told me he needed good luck because he had court. I’m sorry? Court?? I bet the wheels are turning on this guy’s fake name for a lot of you. When I woke up (yes at six-thirty) I apologized for going to bed and he responded three hours later with “my lawyer got me off Scott free in 20 minutes.” I can’t help but wonder if he knows that he spelled scot-free wrong. It’s not like I’m the grammar police or anything, this journal is no doubt littered with grammar errors, but still.

Though, after he said that his lawyer got him off raised more questions for me. When I asked him why he was in court, his answer was someone was mad he stole their girl. This was something that had come up earlier, as if it were something that came up frequently. Stealing people’s girls, that is. I don’t think he goes to court frequently. I hope he doesn’t go to court frequently. Then he drops that he was there for felony assault! Felony! Assault! The nickname has to be making sense now. But it was cleared for self-defense, so that makes it all better, right? As someone who was at least kind of interested in this guy, I immediately was worried. As a virgin and a hopeless romantic, a man that wants to throw me around and has almost had a felony assault charge is not my ideal type. I want a boyfriend, not a fuck buddy. I had to change my Tinder relationship preference to “long-term open to short” rather than the opposite, “short-term open to long.” Because I’m stupid and inexperienced, in my mind short-term meant a few dates, maybe a few kisses, and then seeing where that goes. Apparently, to everyone else, short-term means sex.

I wasn’t aware that Tinder was used widely as a hookup app until I saw a TikTok, around three months after my 18th birthday, of a girl recounting her own inexperience with that idea, and how one of her dates had to let her know. I also sort of found out on my own after multiple messages of “I want you to reread the first three words.” Which, by the way, is the worst fucking pickup line of all time. I’m not exaggerating. If you use that on me, I will not respond. It makes you seem like a dick. The most constant Tinder guy in my life is someone who I’ll call Rave Guy. This name is because I saw him at a rave, thought he was super cute, and then saw him on Tinder after. Which was, personally, the awesomest thing that’s ever happened to me. We’ve been on three dates (over the course of five months) and have kissed twice. Rave Guy is probably the nicest guy I’ve met on Tinder, and I’m honestly fumbling him? I might have to get on this.

Another wasteland, though perhaps not as desolate, is Hinge. I don’t like Hinge as much because it’s focused on finding people to actually connect with. Which, I guess is the whole point of a dating app, but Tinder is almost like gambling. With Hinge, I have to actually think about it. Sending a Hinge like feels like being a beggar on the street, but in lieu of money, I’m asking for love. I realize that I might be describing a prostitution service. C’est la vie! I did match with a guy on Hinge, and we supposedly had a class together. I got to this class, excited to see this guy in person, and he didn’t show up. I wonder if he thinks I’m not interested. I did leave him on read a few times, but in my defense the last message was a smiley face. How am I supposed to respond to a smiley face, like, seriously?

I don’t really have any Bumble stories because something on my account got locked and I did not feel like fixing it, so I deleted it. Oops! Dating in the Midwest as a queer teenager is definitely hard. I feel like a solid third of the guys on Tinder are homophobic, and another third are uggos (sorry), and then the decent third? All guys who don’t text back. I’m sure that, eventually, I’ll find someone. Right now, though, I just am not sure that “someone” is in the cards for me.

This has been Scrub & Rinse, thank you for reading! Yours, Ajax

#scrub & rinse #strawberry shampoo

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myremnantarmy · 1 year ago

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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.

#jesus #catholic #my remnant army #jesus christ #virgin mary #faithoverfear #saints #jesusisgod #endtimes #artwork #Jesus is coming #come holy spirit #Gospel #word of God #Bible #biblevisuals #bible verse of the day #bible verse

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snippychicke · 2 years ago

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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.

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #balam shichiro #balam/reader #suzuki iruma #balam shichiro x reader

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chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter · 4 months ago

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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.

#whumptober2024 #no.1 #race against the clock #panic attack #'If only we could hold on'#tokyo revengers #fic #grief #mental health issues #angst #hurt no comfort #me writing🌻#sanzu haruchiyo angst #sanzu haruchiyo #mentioned baji keisuke #mentioned tl0 mikey #the original timeline #so it hurts

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green-fifteen · 2 years ago

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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.

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nugsanart09-works · 2 years ago

Text

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!

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