#‘there could be minors in the crowd :(‘ ok so blame the parents

[oldbaton]

I’m obsessed w this cringe insta posting a video of YungBlud spitting and rubbing it in his hair during a show. Have you. Ever been to a punk show? Like Ever? Like does no one have a concept of this? Apparently people are mad at him for drinking onstage??? Who let these people into the world

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗖 𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗗 - part five max verstappen x girlfriend! driver! reader (angst + fluff, minor smut) “. . . max misses you and everything reminds him of moments he shared with you.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( previous | next )

You glared at him, despising him with your very being. Although still leading the f3 championship, you felt unfulfilled. Empty.

Max had just seen you after returning from the podium celebration. He felt guilt swirl in his stomach, weighing down his lungs, seeing you eye the trophy in his hand. You were on the receiving end of a very harsh scolding from your parents, one that was going too far.

"I'm sorry-" You tried, but you were only pulled closer to your father by your ear. "I pay my life's savings, I put my blood and sweat into you and you let that blind Verstappen kid push you out." "I'm sorry-" "Yes, I heard you the fucking first time. Is that the only thing you can say?! Sorry doesn't fix this shit. You lost."

You hissed in pain when he finally let your ear go, putting your cold hand over it in an attempt to numb it out. You did your best to hide your tears by wiping them away quickly and evening out your breath. You felt cramped in the hoard of people, so you pushed through the crowd trying to find a quiet place to recollect yourself.

When Max finally found you, sitting on the floor in a random hallway with your head resting in between your legs. The Dutch boy didn't know why he was looking for you with an extra bottle of water, he blamed it on the guilt in his chest, especially after seeing your parents treat you the way they did.

Held out the bottle for you to take, waiting for you to look up and notice him. But you never did, he was starting to think you died, and he was going to be the one blamed for your murder. So with his fingers crossed, he nudged your head with the bottle, which was a mistake.

You knew it was max, and you ignored him with the hopes of sending the message that you didn't want him here. But apparently, that was not enough. So you pulled your arm back, and punched what you could reach.

Max fell on the floor, hands in between his legs, a few whimpers falling from his mouth. "GET THE HINT." You shouted at him, getting up on your feet, not wasting any time and walking away. "I'm sorry." He called making you stop in your tracks. Your head lowered to your feet, hands clenched into fists. "What are you APOLOGISING FOR? FOR THE FACT THAT YOU'RE BLIND?! OR BECAUSE YOU COST ME POINTS?!" You shouted, turning around.

You wanted to put your knucks in his face, and break his nose again. "I brought ice for your ear." He mumbled, pulling the packet out of his pocket. You looked back at him with disgust and confusion on your face. Why was Max trying to be nice? Why would anyone ever want to be nice to you?

Your eyes watered again as you continued to stare with rage at your rival, who slowly recovered and climbed back on his feet. "What do you want max?"

How you ended up in an ice-cream parlour in Montfort was unknown to you. All you knew was that your Dad was going to kill you, not because you were hours away, because you were in Verstappen territory. "Uh, that one." You pointed at the ice-cream flavour you thought you would hate the least. "How 'bout this one?" Max scooped another flavour anyways, ignoring your choice.

You gave him a 'are you serious' glare. "What's the point in asking if you were going to pick for me anyways." You scoffed at the cone he passed to you. "Just to piss you off." He mumbled. You raised a fist in a threatening manner, prompting Max to cover his sensitive organ with one hand and point at you with the other hand. "Ok ok, I just knew you'd like this one more. Sorry, damn."

"Asshole." You scoffed, starting to bite into your ice cream. The boy looked at you shocked. "Psycho." He mumbled, receiving the ice-cream in his face. ". . . I deserved that."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Max you're late!" Lando shouted over the voice chat making Max wince at the loud noise. "You were taking so long mate, we were already starting." Charles backed up as Max sighed, turning on his camera.

"I was busy." Max replied looking straight into the lenses with all seriousness. He was wearing glasses that made you question how he kept a straight face, because everyone else on the call were practically dying, wheezing to much as if they were a victim of the supervillain joker.

Max was wearing the funkiest pink glasses that did not match him at all. With fluff and butterflies and even the Porsche logo on slinkies to jiggle around. They were a gift from you as a joke, to tell him you got a contract with Porsche, and he kept them for some reason.

"Max what are you wearing?" Alex could barely ask, his camera showing him wheezing on the floor, face red. "A gift." The Dutch boy replied, a soft smile on his face.

"OK, ok. Lando breathed trying to calm down but failing miserably. "We're- We're playing f1 24." Charles said through laughs.

"Dibs on Y/N." Max called as he joined the online game, picking the Porsche driver. "No fair." Daniel shouted trying to pick you first. He was too late, because your digital persona was dancing on Max’s screen.

Unlike the previous years, and unlike other drivers. The developers of the game decided to include a lot of your personality in your honour. That included your persona acting a lot like you; dancing, head bobbing, doing handstand, singing.

Max watched as your character held onto one side of the headphone while you hummed to the song as you head bopped. Max watched you, it was the first time looking at you in a while. He quickly wiped his eyes before switching to his sight glasses. "Lalalalalala." You sang.

"Oh my god. That's her actual voice." Lando smiled, laughing. "No way actually?" Charles questioned trying to listen. "Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last foreverrrrr. I said I'm 'bout to go to war." "I don't know if I'ma see you again." The boys sang, completing your lyrics.

Max laughed, feeling his heart warm. You've affected the people around you so much and you never got to see it. His eyes teared up, listening to you sing when he crossed the finish line first. "oh god, I miss her so much." Alex laughed with tears streaming down his eyes, running his hands over his eyes.

"You tell me." Max chuckled, wiping his eyes dry.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"And setting a new record. Y/N L/N, at the age of 17, wins her first grand prix. A night full of celebrations, for Toro Rosso and the L/Ns."

Max sighed, sinking in the couch chair, looking at the footage of you celebrating your first win. He was watching a playlist of all your wins in f1, from the newest to oldest, which led to your first win in your formula one career.

You were able to skip f2 after winning the f3 championship and jump straight into the red bull juniors team, only spending two months as a reserve driver before they finally put you in toro rosso. Although a risky move, it was a successful one.

Max remembers, sneaking away to watch your races. Never sure why he was rooting for you. And whenever you'd run into each other, you'd give him a cocky smirk because you beat him into the big leagues.

"You are the dancing queennnnn. Young and sweet, only seventeeeeeeen." You sang, humming the song's melody, dancing in your car as you pulled into parc ferme.

Max watched as you did one of your iconic victory dances on top of your car, a small warm smile on his face. He would've loved to share one with you during your last podium, which you never got to attend.

"She's not going to be any happier with you if you keep lazing on my couch eyes boring into your phone." The Ausie man shook his head, setting the smoothie he made on the coffee table. "I just wanted to hear her voice again." Max shrugged, sitting up and taking a sip from the glass.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The redbull team was hanging out together, and by team I mean you, Daniel, Carlos, and Max. As for the reason Max was invited, you didn't know. Was he in the group chat and thought he was invited? You didn't care, because you were on higher pedestals now with red bell, while he drove a sad toro rosso.

All you knew was, you managed to get your hands on your dad's yacht and invited the boys. Carlos was teaching you flamenco dancing and you found yourself enjoying it. Daniel was old enough to drink, so he enjoyed your dad's whiskey and vodka. And Max . . . Max was just watching you.

And somehow by 5pm, Carlos and Daniel left ( somehow ). And somehow, you were straddling max's hips, grinding onto him as you made out aggressively and needily. You didn't want to, neither did you need to know how you ended up like this.

"You both kicked off your shoes. Man, I dig those rhythm and bluuuuues." The music sang in the background. "Give me a chance." Max whispered in your ear after flipping you over so he was on top.

"I was a lonely teenage bronckin' buck. With a pink carnation and a pickup truck. But I knew I was out of luck."

He didn't realise when, but he felt a force pulling him towards you, like a magnet . . . a force of attraction. Attraction, he was attracted to you. The more Max got to know you, the more he found himself wanting you, needing you. He found himself . . . falling in love with you. Your smile, your laugh, your jokes, your spirit.

And you nodded, giving him a chance, one that you glad you took. And so, it all started.

"The day, the music died."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Hey, Verstappen."

"What's so important that you have to call me in the middle of the night?"

"You're going to want to come down to the hospital."

[jamiedc-they-them]

Choices you (and us) stand by (Platonic)

Requested Imagine - An operation that brings you back home after being cleared is met by some resistance. But, your friends are there to help.

You had been in the hospital for a bit now. You had been resting, but your friends had made an effort to see you when Malivore wasn’t spitting out monsters.

You appreciate it, really. You really did like seeing your family.

Plus, you felt better with this operation. And they had supported you the whole way, even going with you when the operation came.

When you opened your eyes again, you saw Lizzie smiling at you. You ignored the slightly creepy factor, and just smiled at her, “Hey.” You greeted, voice still groggy from not fully being awake yet.

“Hey back,” She said back. You heard her happiness, and your smile grew; she was doing better, it seemed. You were happy for her, really.

And, by the shine in her eyes, you saw that her feelings for you were vice versa. She saw how much more comfortable you looked now.

“Dad and the others would’ve come. But –”

“Malivore?”  You guessed, “Look, Liz. It’s cool, I get it. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. But, I needed this. I know not everyone is, but I don’t think Malivore would go that low. If they did, I know I’m happy with it.”

Lizzie nodded, but didn’t answer your guess. She just held out a hand, “Doc says it’s time to go. So, what you say, ready to go home?”

You looked at your friend, and smiled hugely this time, “Ready.” You confirmed, taking her hand.

The drive back wasn’t too long, but it was filled with idol chatter about what you had missed. It wasn’t too much, just the norm.

What you knew, and what Lizzie told you, was that Hope had redone your room for you. You knew your sister would do a lot for you, but you didn’t expect that.

“And, here we are.” Lizzie announced as she parked the car. Together you got out. And, as expected, there was your two other sisters awaiting you with a little banner in their hands.

You smiled, and the Josie used a spell to keep the banner up as they hugged you, minding to not rip any stitching.

“Wow, you look great.” Josie complimented as she pulled away from the hug.

“Yeah, you look amazing, Y/N.” Hope agreed, beaming smile on her face. It was unusual for her, but she mainly reserved it for you. And she knew this was a big moment.

“Where’s Alaric?” You asked, wondering where your father figure was.

That made the smiles dim, “What?” You asked, looking between the two. With Lizzie being next to you, you missed how she also looked between the pair in alarm.

“You didn’t sort it?” Lizzie asked through clenched teeth. When she didn’t receive an answer, she stormed inside.

“What’s going on?” You asked your two remaining friends. They shared a side glance, not sure on how to say it.

“Not…not everyone was…positive about it.” Josie said, trying to be as gentle as possible.

“…Oh.” Hope heard the voice tremble, and was quick to put a hand on your arm.

“Hey, it doesn’t reflect on all of us, ok? It’s just a minority. I’m sorry.” She said, seeing how deflated you looked.

“It’s not your fault.” You assured Hope. Both your smiles were dejected and sombre.

It was Josie who then spoke up, “Why don’t we go inside get you to your room?” She offered her arm for a loop, you obliged with the want and were on your way.

You weren’t even if it for two seconds before Lizzie barged in, a pissed off expression clear on her face.

“What is it?” You asked after a moment of silence.

“They know you got back,” At those words, Josie and Hope came to stand by you as they looked to Lizzie; their question was one you didn’t understand.

Whatever it was, Lizzie shook her head before looking at you with a smile, “I’ll be right back. Rest of the squad is looking for hobbit, but I got this. You just relax, Y/N.” Lizzie told you, before she left the room.

“Come on, sit. We’ll help you set up.” Hope said, sitting on said bed and patting the spot next to you.

You sat.

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“I meant what I said before, you look great.” Hope said as the three of you had moved to laying down at the top of the bed; you in the middle and two of your sisters on either side of you. They were both on their sides, facing you, with you looking up at the ceiling.

“You don’t need to keep saying that.” You laughed through your words softly. Hope’s smile grew. She was happy you were happy and allowing yourself time to recover.

“How many disagreed with it?” You asked. That created a lull in the conversation; an uncomfortable atmosphere there.

Lizzie, in any other situation, would’ve probably been more worried about how this would go. Despite the small groups, there were more of them than there was of her. But, in this moment, she didn’t care. To be honest, it went against what the school was about –

Acceptance. And they just seemed to be the anti-all of that despite their own differences.

The levels of irony was not lost on her. In fact, if anything, it was what drove her on further.

“Hey, asshats!” She called out to them. They turned, one even opened their mouths to talk.

That was quickly stopped by a quick silencing spell by Lizzie. She was talking, and they were sure as hell going to listen, “I get that you all are going through your edge grunge phase, but you do know that Y/N is an actual person, right? They chose this, and all you had to do was allow it and move on. I mean, you guys are with Josie, even if she’s just here on visit I haven’t seen one comment against her…”

“I just…I can’t describe it, but –”

“It’s euphoric?” Josie asked, your head then turned to her.

“In a way. I feel…I guess that, yeah. But, I mean, those out there…”

“Ignore them.” Hope said without missing a beat.”

“I can’t, Hope. You know how they stare and whisper. I’m not changing it back. I just…I don’t know…” You trailed off, not sure how to fully get your point across.

“You remember when you came out to mum and dad?” The question got both you and Josie sharply looking at you; it was rare for her to ever bring up your deceased parents. A sore spot for you both.

“You remember what she said?” You nodded, yet your sister continued, “’Ok, honey. I’m just glad you’re being you.’” You gulped as she then said, “And dad. God, dad was so proud, ‘I’m proud of you little one, for being true to yourself. No one can take that from you, ever.’”

“No one can or will. Not as long as we and you have someone to say about it.” Josie concluded, holding one of your hands in her own; it didn’t break you and Hope’s stare however. Josie respected that, it was a big thing to talk about your parents.

 “…And I get that my dad is away, but that doesn’t mean you have to come and ruin this for my friend who has been nothing but kind to all of you. And, what? One little change and choice and suddenly they’re dead to you? This school was built for acceptance, not hatred or anarchy or rebellion.” Lizzie was just getting more and more frustrated; more and more angry; more and more defensive.

Some of the group even looked ashamed. Her words were working. They were changing their minds.

Then, some of those faces shifted again. And she turned to see what had caused it.

It was you, with Hope and Josie stood next to you as a united front.

She wasn’t done, but it seemed that the crowd she had riled up were getting antsy again.

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The spell had worn off, and there were words. There were a lot of words. You had seen Lizzie hateful before, but this was something else.

You heard the words they used to almost try turn it on her, say that she was relapsing. Say that this was why, that she was losing control. They tried to make themselves the victims. They were the ones under attack, not you. Why would it be you? In their minds, as of right now, that seemed to make no sense.

They then saw Josie. They saw how she was doing better at Mystic Falls High and almost happy and content with herself. They blamed it on Josie, that the girl had someone influenced her sister into this; a kind coercion of sought. They brought up the black magic saga she had gone on. Seemed Lizzie was wrong, they hadn’t fully moved on, they just instead waited for the right time to strike with their words.

Oh, and try they did. They swore, cursed – seemed Alaric being gone for the time being really made them go more off the rails than this “protest” already was – hell, one even tried to attack Josie, had Hope not thrown him back.

Josie had backed up in fear, but also moved a bit in front of you; just in case.

Then there was Hope, the oldest of the Mikaelson siblings; the one that mirrored Klaus more and more every day more than you ever would.

They tried to provoke her. They tried to make it seem like it was her fault for your actions, as if she – like they had accused Josie of with Lizzie – swayed you into this decision. Hope knew it made no logical sense, but she was already growing more and more pissed, nails digging into her skin.

Hope knew that, if she needed another forest screaming session, this would have to wait. And there would be a lot more trees knocked down this time because of it.

Then. Then they made a mistake.

They looked at you.

They looked at you, the whole reason they had banded together.

The whole reason Lizzie had gone after them.

You.

To you, it was just noise. Your ears were ringing as you tried to remember the words Josie and Hope had given you before, along with the other affirmations your parents had given you.

Your friends had been there every step of the way. They had tried to do what they could. And now you had done and all they wanted was to help celebrate it and help you settle back into your life at the school.

Now though, now you were just being yelled at. You saw your friends look to you, and you saw the concern on their features as your eyes did fill with tears. But you also felt the hurt and pain inside, and how that morphed into two things; fight or flight.

As the leader of the group got closer to you, Hope was quick to fling him back.

As you heard what you didn’t doubt was a fight ensuing, you chose flight.

 You ran into Alaric’s office, glad for once that he was gone. You didn’t need him right now. Well, you did, but –

You knew you needed what had been done. You knew it, that was why you had it done. You knew you had support and you knew that not everyone would.

You just didn’t expect it to be so…extreme.

Maybe you could transfer along with Josie, maybe there they would –

“Y/N?” A voice asked. You turned, seeing the three at the entrance to the office, Josie and Lizzie with a cut and bruise or two, but nothing major.

Still –

You sat in the chair, face in your hands. You heard feet shuffle, a chair scrape, and someone grunt a bit as they sat on a table – as you heard papers being shuffled.

You felt someone put their hands on your shoulders, trying to massage them as best as she could.

“I’m sorry.” You said in utter despair, “I didn’t mean to –”

“You didn’t cause anything. Those guys were just assholes for the sake of it.” Lizzie was blunt, and used more colourful language, but it was what you loved about her.

You felt two hands grab both of yours and hold them in the gap between you and them, “They just can’t accept it. But, we’ve got your back on this. On anything. You deserve to be and look the way you want.” That was Josie.

So that meant – “I think I speak for all of us, when I say that we’d do it again.”

“You helped me out of my subconscious, helped me find my strength. And, if I’m honest, I’m jealous, Y/N, you took a stand for what you wanted and went for it.” You opened your eyes when Josie had stopped talking, seeing her soft face and gentle smile on her lips.

You sniffled a bit, looking to Lizzie, who rolled her eyes half heartedly but nodded with a smile.

Hope then moved out in front of you, “What do you say? You ready?” She asked, holding out a hand for you.

“Ready.” You confirmed, holding her hand and leaving with your three sisters.

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You got more smiles than you expected, but you smiled back as you all went back to your room. It  had been a day, even before this conflict, and you definitely needed your rest now.

You all made idol chatter as you went. Most of it about the school and Malivore, but you were calmer now. You were freer with each other.

It was like nothing had changed.

However –

“There they are, Doctor Saltzman.” One of the old group said as Alaric followed her, she even pointed to you as if he needed to know for sure.

Alaric looked to you four for an explanation.

As the other three went to speak, you put your hand up. They paused, looking to you. You gave them a smile, and went over to Alaric as the three trailed behind you.

“Doctor S, I’m sorry for the fight that happened. I didn’t want it to turn into a scrap. It was just a group of people not really liking what I’d done. But, to be honest, I didn’t really see how it effects them at all. All it did is help me and do good. I don’t see the bad. But, I am sorry for the fight.” You said, as calmly as you could.

Alaric nodded, “Thank you, Y/N. There’s gonna be some cleaning needed, but we’ll figure all that out after. I’m just glad you’re ok.” He said with a smile. With that, he passed you and went to the office, with the student following, this time in a sombre way.

You looked back at the three, who all smiled at you, “Come on, let’s go back. You’ve had a long day.” Hope offered, holding out her hand.

“I’ll go get the ice-cream.” Lizzie said, Josie going with her to help with the bowls.

You took your sisters hand, going back to your room.

Sure, there would always be naysayers about your choice. But, who were they to judge? They weren’t you.

The school was built on acceptance, not hate. And you were sure Alaric was going to instil it in that student or have them leave.

But, to you, you just felt better.

You felt at home, both internally and externally.

You let out a breath of content.

[peppersteakss]

so... you wanna know the dream smp lore as of dec 19th, 2020

you have come to the correct place

the dream smp in a nutshell (somewhat)

ok so despite the server itself starting in april, the lore doesn’t start until wilbur joined in like june. the basics are that wilbur tommy and tubbo started a drug business and that didn’t sit well with dream sapnap or george bc it was their server, so tommy tubbo and wilbur (and eret came in at some point) decided to separate their land on the server and call it l’manberg. they built a wall, they had their own national anthem. this again upset the dream team. eret then gets revealed as a traitor and causes everyone in l’manberg to lose their first lives. (there’s a 3 live rule for almost every character in the smp, the only exception being philza - he only has 1) eret did this in order to become kind of the server. then dream bombed l’manberg after wilbur tried to negotiate with him. at that point, independence for l’manberg was no longer looking like an options

then came an agreement between tommy and dream, they’d duel for l’manbergs independence, but if dream won he’d take one of tommy’s music discs (why the discs are so important? i literally could not tell you). dream won, taking tommy’s second life. and somewhere in there fundy enters the server as part of l’manberg, and starts all the weird family dynamic stuff

here’s a little tangent on family dynamics in the smp:

philza is the father of techno and wilbur (twins), and it’s confirmed their mother is a samsung smart fridge. he also fathers tommy, who’s mother is unknown, and tubbo, who’s adopted - his bio parents unknown, but there’s a really popular theory going around that schlatt is his bio dad

wilbur is the father of fundy, and fundys mother is apparently a fish - sally the salmon. it’s complicated, at some point the idea of sally being a shapeshifter was brought up but never confirmed

back to the lore, tommy came back on his last life and then negotiated with dream for the independence of l’manberg and in exchange he would give dream both of his discs (again, i have no clue why they’re so important to him but they play a huge part in his character) so with that, the war between l’manberg and the dream team was over. l’manberg wrote a decree of independence, officially exiled eret, then started a government - tommy was assigned treasury of the state and later the vice president, tubbo was the secretary of state, and fundy was just wilbur little champion. wilbur took the title as president

jack manifold then joined the server and l’manberg, dream begged him to join the dream team but he stayed with l’manberg. then tommy, jack, and tubbo decided to cause chaos and get revenge against dream for the destruction of l’manberg and for tommy to get his discs

there were a few minor events in between the war and the election that i don’t really deem that important, the most notable thing is that quackity joined the server. but if you’d like to read about the events - they’re on the wiki! i’d also recommend keeping up with the wiki because the plot moves very fast, and the wiki is a good source that always keeps track of everything that happens and just the members individually! there’s also a channel on youtube that uploads the vods of every member but only their smp streams, it’s just called dream smp members vods (if you’re at all interested in watching this rather than reading it)

we now get into the election. a lot of people weren’t really happy with wilbur as president and they weren’t taking him seriously, so wilbur tried to fix this by holding an election that originally he thought only he could win. quackity then formed his own party to run against wilbur, thus leading to SWAG2020 (quackity and george) vs POG2020 (wilbur and tommy). later joining the election would be Coconut2020 (fundy and niki nihachu) as well as Schlatt2020 (it was just schlatt). this was a real poll left up to the viewers, and Schlatt2020 ended up winning as for some reason his results were supposed to be combined with SWAG2020s results - together they had 46%, just 1% above POG2020 - so Schlatt was now president of l’manberg. (despite only joining the server once the campaigns had started and almost ended). schlatts first decree was to exile wilbur and tommy from l’manberg - he then kept tubbo as secretary of state and demanded he hunt tommy and wilbur. it’s also worth noting that he ordered the walls of l’manberg to be destroyed. this ends the l’manberg independence arc as a whole (yes all of that was one single arc) as l’manberg was renamed manberg by schlatt. (one last thing worth noting is that wilbur lost a life during the election, so he only has 1 life left)

this then starts the manberg rebellion arc. this is actually the longest arc at the moment as it lasted for almost 2 months(sep 22nd-nov 16th), but the next arc is still ongoing so that could change. also it’s now important to note that important events always happened on the 16th, so if you plan on ever watching streams live, you should always try to catch any that happen on the 16th.

wilbur and tommy created yet another independent part of the smp called pogtopia. other members of pogtopia were technoblade (who had just joined the server) acting as a mercenary, and tubbo, the pogtopia spy. this then caused another split of the server, and dream became part of pogtopia but only in secret. there were also third parties, that being manifold land and the badlands.

a festival in manberg was announced, and tubbo was supposed to give a speech and organize the event. this then caused wilbur to question his morality, and this sparked the idea that wilbur should blow up manberg for good, tommy didn’t agree with this, and dream sided with wilbur simply because he wanted schlatt gone. tommy and tubbo then decided they could only trust each other (THATS IMPORTANT PLEASE REMEMBER THAT)

the festival happened on oct 16th, where tubbo was outed as the l’manberg spy, techno was then ordered to kill tubbo (which he did, causing tubbo to lose a life and bring him down to one life) but he then basically caused a massacre in manberg. niki then joined pogtopia in hopes to save manberg with tommy and tubbo while wilbur and techno planned to destroy it. wilbur originally had plans to blow up manberg at the festival, but was unsuccessful as he lost the button he was supposed to use in order to do so

quackity was removed from his spot as vice president, then joining pogtopia. then an ultimatum was established within pogtopia - deal with schlatt, or wilbur blows everything up. that did not stop wilbur from attempting to blow up manberg yet again at nikis birthday party but was stopped by quackity, karl jacobs, and niki. the ultimatum was then given a deadline, november 6th.

quackity tried to meet with schlatt, who had tried to blow manberg up yet again only for schlatt to reveal that he moved the tnt wilbur put in manberg to pogtopia. fundy then revealed he’d been spying for pogtopia in secret - and wilbur began to realize that under schlatts leadership, NO ONE was on manbergs side. except dream who then revealed he actually was going to protect manberg for some reason idk dreams motivation and just dream in general is really confusing, but regardless he negotiated war with pogtopia, and the decided date was nov 16th

schlatt ended up dying of a heart attack in front of everyone in pogtopia, leaving the presidency to tommy, who then handed it to wilbur, who then handed it to tubbo. wilbur took this as his chance to blow up l’manberg, as in his eyes it would never be the same. philza then joined the server and tried to stop him, but he was unsuccessful. wilbur then convinced phil - his own father in canon - to kill him, and he did, causing him to die in all actuality this time as that was his last life.

techno then caused another massacre right after wilbur literally blew up l’manberg because he was angry that l’manberg was just replacing one dictator with another, and set two withers. he swore that he would destroy any government that rose in the dream smp. (i actually recommend watching wilburs video on this event, it’s his most recent dream smp video and probably his final as his character is dead now. techno also tells the story of theseus and he explains it much better than i can, and the role of theseus does play in later in the lore)(it’s also just a fucking cinematic masterpiece but maybe that’s just me)

that ends the manberg rebellion arc, and so starts the l’manberg retribution arc (which is still ongoing) and although the last arc currently stands as the longest arc, there’s much more lore in this arc at the moment. like i’ve said, the lore just moves very fast

the remaining citizens of l’manberg start to rebuild with the help of ghostbur, which is just as he sounds - the ghost of wilbur. he only remembers happy memories from his life and generally just likes to follow people around a lot, he’s not on anyone’s specific side. also somewhere during all of this, eret decided to adopt fundy, so eret is now in this complicated family dynamic mix

quackity was angry with technos actions and started ‘the butcher army’ so he could take techno down, despite tubbos wishes to not start any more wars and to keep l’manberg peaceful, and also the factor of technoblade now having nothing.

dream along with captain puffy started defacing and destroying the sever as a whole and placed all of the blame on tommy. most notably he targeted skeppy and badboyhalo in the badlands (who for some reason have one of tommy’s discs). dream left a fake note about the disc, which is what let to the belief that tommy actually did commit these crimes.

on nov 19th, a funeral was held for schlatt, to which the crowd who attended made fun of him and celebrated his death, and trying to cause trouble (basically quackity made a piss portrait of schlatt and ate his heart) the rest also took pieces of schlatts body. he was put to rest in the side of a mountain outside of l’manberg

badboyhalo actually encountered the grieving of him and skeppys houses done bg dream, promising to burn tommy’s discs. everyone else was finding out about “tommy” greeting bad, meanwhile quackity was replacing schlatts remains with fucking glass, trying to resurrect him - he then gave this task to awesamedude, but whether or not he’s going to do it is still up in the air

ranboo then joined the server and became close with tommy, and they both george’s george’s house. this caused dream to build and obsidian wall around l’manberg, and then everyone found out tommy grief led george (which is not a good look for the vice president (tommy is the vice president btw)) and this is when the idea of exiling tommy came up. tommy was then brought to court simply because dreamed wished to see tommy get exiled for things that he didn’t even do

a lot of stuff happened but i’m really trying my best to keep this brief, again you can read the wiki if you’d like more detail! it’s a great source of information! but in the end the decision to exile tommy was left to a twitter poll, it was close but the winning option was to exile tommy

before tommy got exiled, there was the introduction of mexican l’manberg also known as el rapids. in el rapids, a lot of conflict happened with dream, and at this point it really seems that no one is really on dramas side (which like rightfully so dsmp!dream is fucking horrible)

still before he was exiled, tommy brought up the idea of waging war on dream because it seemed that really everyone in l’manberg was against him. there was even the idea of getting people outside of l’manberg involved (like techno, sapnap, bad, etc). tubbo then had dream escort tommy out of l’manberg to his exile. he’d just betrayed his best friend, the person who he agreed was the only one he could trust, which confused a lot of people because it was almost a last moment decision - but apparently it was the only logical thing to do (bs imo) but then tubbo agreed to work with quackity in killing technoblade

dream stayed with tommy often while in exile, and they stayed together for about 11 days with occasional visits from ghostbur. dream was very violent towards tommy during all of this, threatening to kill him if he didn’t do as he said, blowing up an old house tommy and tubbo built, and saying that he could /never/ go back to l’manberg. tommy actually began hiding important items from dream so that he wouldn’t destroy them, as that was a common thing as well - he’d make tommy drop all of his items to dispose of them for good. there was one item he’d never drop, though, and that was a gift from ghostbur - it was a compass that pointed to the whitehouse in l’manberg called ‘your tubbo.’ similarly, tubbo also has a compass called ‘your tommy’ that pointed to logstedshire (the place where exiled tommy and dream would stay)(‘your tommy’ was destroyed, most likely by dream, and even though tubbo got a second one - tommy doesn’t stay in logstedshire for long)

dream unfortunately found out about this as well, and the. disposing of all of his hidden items. and after 11 days of experiencing all of this with dream, tommy left to find somewhere much safer, ultimately deciding to make a burrow under technoblade and philzas house, as no one in the smp except them had known its location.

he thought he could stay hidden but techno found him literally the next day after being hunted by the butcher army that quackity had built, and being ordered for execution in l’manberg only to be saved by a totem of undying and escaping l’manberg through the sewers with the help of dream. (it’s worth noting that philza was also captured, is now on house arrest, AND was almost forced to watch another one of his sons die right in front of him) and guess when all of that happened???? DEC 16th. also everyone in l’manberg now thinks tommy is dead and they’re planning a funeral for him because they saw some sort of explosion debris that somehow links to tommy(i think it was blown up logstedshire)

techno and tommy then formed an alliance in order to get back technos stolen items (the butchers from l’manberg took everything) as well as rescue phil, and to get tommy’s disc back. i’m doing this, techno revealed a secret room that no one but himself knew about prior, revealing to tommy a room full of wither skulls and a full set of netherite armor, uttering the fucking ICONIC line ‘welcome home, theseus’ and therefore referencing the last big event, showing that tommy has made progress since then (at least in the eyes of technoblade)

so tommy stays with techno with more visits from ghostbur, and visits from dream - although tommy has hidden during both of his visits with invis potions. techno is set on protecting tommy now, and tommy is still struggling with trying to separate himself from dream. the first time dream visits it’s with techno, and techno convinces him that tommy isn’t at his house. dream also points out that techno owes him a favor bc he saved him in l’manberg. the second visit is when ghostbur was there, and ghostbur slips up quite a lot when interacting with dream. dream reveals he knows tommy isn’t dead and that he’s with techno somehow, and i think that’s just about it

one last thing worth noting is that this story is almost always looking at the fans for inspiration and has included a lot of fan theories into the canon (techno and wilbur being twins, and most notably the ‘welcome home, theseus’ line) so i’d highly recommend in participating in fan stuff as much as you can! there’s also just a lot of creative people in the fandom if you stay out of the weird side lol. but with that, i think that’s about all of the lore as of now

(i wrote all of this from midnight to 3 am so i am so sorry if i forgot things and i’m sorry about spelling mistakes)

[jewish-gay-elves]

Oh, Calamity

“I don’t believe in the Maker,” he says, breaking the silence that followed your coupling.

A soulmate/reincarnation au fic where I play around with the idea of soulmates without identifying marks or timers that have to find each other every lifetime!

Words: 4803, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of the Stephan Cousland: There's Never Much of a Choice for You

Fandoms: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alistair (Dragon Age), Male Cousland, Goldanna, Cailan Theirin, Anora Mac Tir Relationships: Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Male Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Cousland, Alistair/Male Cousland Additional Tags: ok just wanted to cover all my bases on the ship tags lol, also goldanna/cailan/anora's presences in the fic are v limited, like a sentence each p much, Songfic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Reincarnation, please let me know if there should be more tags!, also please ask if you have questions!

“I don’t believe in the Maker,” he says, breaking the silence that followed your coupling. You lift your head and rest your chin on his chest, mulling over his words. Morrigan is always scolding you for saying the first thing to come to mind, and this feels like it requires a more thoughtful approach.

“Okay,” you say, and it is. Truly, it is okay. His belief or lack thereof in the Maker has no impact on how much you both care about each other. Your own faith in in the Maker hasn’t been the most unshakeable, who are you to decide whether or not he’s wrong? You can feel the tension in the arm he has around your waist lessen until his grip is as gentle as it was before. He was never really one to go in the Chantry and it makes sense to you now why not. You thought he just wasn’t really one for all the anti-magic shtick that they preach.

“One of my tutors, he came from Rivain,” he begins, offering an explanation. “While we still had Aldous, my parents wanted Fergus and me to have a more rounded education. He kept his lessons mostly academic, but I enjoyed his company so much I often stayed after and he told me of Rivain and their beliefs,”

You rest your cheek against his chest again, still listening but curling closer to him. He waited a minute, just listening to you breathe before continuing.

“He said that everything in Thedas and beyond were made of energy. Humans, elves, dwarves, qunari, and all the other beings. That energy exists in a cycle. Once the energy in a being has been exhausted in say, an old man, it would go then to a newborn. This continues the cycle, with the same energy and souls from before, just reborn. He said the stress of childbirth erased the memories from the past life, making it harder to remember things from before,” he explained.

“Have you ever remembered anything from one of your past lives?” you asked, wondering if stray dreams may have influenced his belief in the Rivaini.

“No, and I doubt I will remember anything from before. This is a fairly new line of thinking in Ferelden and if it’s true I doubt that any of my past lives believed in it. I think that increases the chance of never remembering those lives, just thinking that nothing came before solidifies the experiences in this time. As sad as it sounds I’m not even sure I’d like to remember those lives,” he said, puzzling you.

“Well, why not?” you ask, lifting your head to look at him again.

“I can’t know if those lives were as lucky as this one to have been able to find you,” he says, lifting a hand to your cheek as you two look at each other. You both lean in for a kiss and you think to yourself that it’s hard to imagine never meeting him in any kind of life.

When I was younger I was certain I’d be fine without a Queen Just a king inside his castle, with an ocean in between Now all I do is sit and count the miles from you to me Oh, Calamity!

You sit on your throne, looking out at the crowd gathered in light of festivities. Teagan stands by your side, Maker bless him. Eamon and young Connor are back in Redcliffe, Isolde caught fever and Connor insisted Eamon stay with them until she recovered. The other nobles are all drinking heavily, well into their cups and you are painfully aware of the missing Arl of Amaranthine. You know he passed on the title back to the Howes and Nathaniel years ago before he even began his search for a cure but, he should be here.

You can see Fergus from your throne speaking to the nobles around him, some minor lordlings from South Reach looks like. They must be discussing politics for you can see Fergus’ top lip twitching. His brother had the same twitch that tells when either of them are about to seal a good deal. Probably speaking of possible marriage arrangements for Fergus’ boy.

You wonder if he thinks about his first son often but as the lordlings turn to retrieve more drinks you see a wave of grief pass over his face before the mask is back in place. You were able to return Highever to the Couslands but in the years since you’ve wondered if they even wanted it back. Nothing either of them said to you indicated otherwise but whenever you visit and they are both there they get certain looks on their faces. As if they were forced to eat Orleisian cheeses.

He must have noticed your eyes on him because Fergus turns to look up to where you sit. The grief is still in his eyes as he gives you a nod before returning to the festivities. You always wondered if he blamed you for having to remarry and raise heirs, knowing that his brother was otherwise occupied as Warden Commander and would never have given Highever heirs of his own willingly.

Seeing as you won’t be making heirs either and that the throne was mostly going to one of his sons you doubted that he could hate you forever. You make a mental note to later write to Fergus about the idea. Provided that you spoke to your fellow Warden about it as well. As soon as he returned of course. Because he would return, he’s the Hero of Fereldan for Maker’s sake, and also because you have had a cold spot in your bed for far too long. Teagan leans over and makes to whisper in your ear.

“Stop thinking about the Prince-Consort, you have the most unwelcoming look on your face,” he says before leaning back. You shoot him a grin upon seeing his sly smile.

“I’m that transparent am I?” you ask rhetorically, straightening your back with only two or three pops compared to the normal five or six. The chair (Eamon says you must refer to it as the throne but in all honesty, it’s just a chair) is far too uncomfortable and you wish said Prince-Consort was here to complain to but that will have to wait for another day.

We get older by the hour, watch the changes from afar. Keep forgetting to remember, where we’ve been is who we are. Now all I do is wonder why we ever set the scene Oh, Calamity

You lean against your shovel, looking up at the sky. Your eye is drawn to where they say the Breach once tore the heavens asunder. You think back to the stories the older servants tell of being children while the world was thrown into chaos by the Archdemon.

They say that among the rubble of the Temple of Sacred Ashes the Inquisitor arose as the Herald of Andraste with a hand sparkling green with ancient Elvhen magics. That they had been touched by Fen’Harel himself. Your knowledge of the Elvhen Parthenon is limited, but the savior of Thedas being touched by the Dread Wolf seemed a bit ironic to you.

It had been almost a century since the sky was closed by the might of the Inquisition and while it still had power, Ferelden no longer felt torn. Struggling to choose between the Inquisition and the throne. While the Inquisition started in Ferelden it had no power over country affairs. King Alistair and his Prince-Consort, may they rest at the Maker’s side, supported the Inquisition in that it would close the Breach was sure to remind them that true power in Ferelden laid with the crown.

To be honest you preferred the late monarchs of Ferelden, may they rest at the Maker’s side, to the Inquisition. The two surviving Grey Wardens of the Battle at Ostagar, saved by a Witch of the Wilds to unite Ferelden and prevent civil war in order to fight the darkspawn.

No one quite knows when or how the two Wardens got involved after ending the Fifth Blight, or whether or not they weren’t together before slaying the Archdemon. But they stood together against the nobles at the Landsmeet, declaring King Alistair the rightful heir and their engagement to each other. You always thought it was very romantic, the last two Grey Wardens standing together against nobles and darkspawn alike.

“What a lazy arse you are Marc!” a voice you recognize as Quint’s called from behind you. You turned to see him walking down the hill towards you, his hands dirty from where he was likely gardening in front of the main house all day, an equally dirty spade tucked between his belt and trousers. You gave him a smile as he approached, knowing that the work day was likely over and he was coming to collect you for dinner.

“I happen to know that you like my arse, whether it’s lazy or not,” you said back to him. Your mind’s eye flickered as he smirked at you, a delicate golden circlet with lavish jewels appearing on his head, the spade at his side now a decorated sword. You frowned, shaking your head to clear the vision. As he reached you he slid his arms around your waist.

“You alright, love?” he asked cautiously. You smiled for him, returning the gesture and wrapping your arms around him as well. You wondered if Quint had ever had a moment like that. As if a memory placed itself over the current view you had. Doubtful, Quint was likely more focused on his next meal.

“Fine, I’m fine. Just tired I guess,” you said blinking the strange vision out of your eyes. “Let’s go see what Cookie’s whipped up for tonight shall we?”

“Hey I heard that the Lord has a visitor from Rivain staying for a while,” He starts telling you earnestly, already coming up with all sorts of wild tales.

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me Oh, Calamity.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had one of these visions Neil! There has to be some meaning behind them I just can’t figure out what!” you exclaim, curling your hands into fists against your temples. Neil sits on the cot a foot or so away from where you are curled in on yourself.

“Okay, okay, Wil I believe you,” he says extending his hands out in a placating manner. You peer at him, lifting your head from where you pushed it against your knees. He’s looking at you earnestly with his wide honest eyes and you find your initial fear of him ridiculing you disappearing.

“Just start from the beginning, when did they begin?” He asks you patiently. You take a deep breath and lower your arms to wrap around your calves. You collect your thoughts and decide to be honest.

“I think I’ve always had them, but I could never remember them until after I met you,” you start out. “It’s like I’m living another person’s life, but it just overlaps my own. I’ll see my papa start walking towards me but then his face isn’t his but instead its some Rivaini dressed in the Grey Warden uniform from before the Fifth Blight. My mother gets replaced by someone in servants clothing patting my cheek. And you, you have five different faces. All of them look like they lived centuries ago. There is maybe a century between each of them, with the oldest one from before the Breach.”

“Lived before the Breach? Wil that was back in what, 9:34 Dragon?” Neil says concern clear on his face.

“The Breach opened in 9:41 Dragon,” you correct him.

You’re scared to tell him that he doesn’t take on the face of just anyone from before the Fifth Blight but the face of the Warden who defeated that Blight. You’re scared to tell him that sometimes you look in the mirror and it’s not your face that greets you. That you have five different faces as well. And the oldest face that you see is one drawn in countless history books from the royal portrait archives to your classroom textbook. King Alistair, the last of the Theirins to sit on the throne before he gave it to his Prince-Consort’s nephews, he looks at you in the mirror. He’s always much younger than in the portraits but you know it’s him.

You’re scared that if you tell Neil he will remember the history lessons that covered King Alistair and his Grey Warden Prince-Consort. That they would only be known as the first two men to rule Ferelden as a couple together if they hadn’t also defeated a Blight. You’re scared because this is too new with Neil, you aren’t even sure if you like like him that way and what if he doesn’t like like you like that either? He’s been your only friend since you moved to Lothering a year ago. You refuse to lose a friend like him for something- something like this!

Neil is just as quiet as you, now that you’ve finished your tale. A moment passes before he scoots nearer to you on the bed and slings an arm around your shoulders and drawing you closer to him.

“We’re going to figure this out, ok Wil? I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but we'll figure it out,” he says and it disturbingly sounds like a promise falling from his lips and you look at him in surprise. He has a soft smile on your face, and a little twitch in his upper lip and you’re almost overcome with another déjà vu vision but you tamper it down and stay in this moment where there is just you and Neil.

You find yourself nodding with a grin spreading across your face. His good mood and attitude becoming infectious as you sit on the little cot.

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs, I remember Ma said there was a visitor from Rivain who checked in yesterday,” Neil invited you, standing up and offering you a hand up. You gladly take it and you both head downstairs together.

I’ll remember nights alone, waking up to dial tone Always found my greatest moments in the sound of your hello. Now I struggle to recall the reasons you would come to leave. Oh, Calamity

You didn’t want to call Elijah, you didn’t want to call Elijah, but you wanted to call Elijah. Damn it, you thought to yourself, picking up your telephone. You impatiently pushed the rotary around waiting until it finally put you through. Thankfully, it wasn’t either of Elijah’s, frankly lovely if not a tad overbearing, parents who answered the phone.

“Hello, this is the Philips?” he said, sounding a bit confused by the late call.

“Elijah, it’s me. Benjamin,” you replied. This was a bad idea, you can already tell. You both don’t really know each other how can you be sure it’s him? Your parents always said it took a little while to know if someone was your soulmate. They told you it took time before you could be sure that the overlapping faces were truly the person you were meant to be with. That sometimes, if you rushed it, it wouldn’t be right. But you’re scared, scared it’ll never be right and if you never say anything you’ll never know what you missed.

“Oh hey, Ben. What’s up? Did you forget something at my house?” He asks, not picking up on your nerves at all. You can’t tell if he’s just dense or extremely considerate. Either option is endearing to you and makes the lump in your throat that much harder to speak around. Should you even tell him?

“Uhh no, no I’ve got everything, I just, wanted to call?” it comes out as a question and you want to hang up and then beat yourself over the head with the receiver. You can hear him pause and huff out a laugh of sorts. You want to smile because you’ve seen that laugh in person and can imagine him doing it in your head but it was at your expense and you are so nervous.

“Well, so you’ve called me. Are you feeling okay Ben?” he asks and you almost panic because he can tell, he can tell can’t he, that you don’t know why you called and you want it to be more than what it probably is but you are propelled by fear and nerves and find yourself confessing.

“Eli have you ever met someone and felt like you know them? Like you meet them and something clicks and it feels like you’ve known them all along?” you ask nervously, your voice cracks in the middle but you power through because you are not going to let your sixteen year old voicebox ruin this for you. You listen to Eli suck in a breath of surprise and pause before cautiously picking out his words.

“Ben, I uh. I have felt that way about someone before,” he says to you and you can feel your heart slowly crawl its way out of your stomach and into your throat. You want to ask who, and whether or not it is you. Whether or not he knows what you’ve been going through. However it seems as though you let your indecision carry on too long because Eli is speaking again.

“I’ve felt that way about you Ben, and I don’t know if you ever would feel that way around me but, the dreams stopped after I met you Ben. I don’t see my soulmate in the Fade anymore and I’m scared about what that means but I think I caught a flash of him on your face the other night when you smiled at me and I. I don’t know what this means but I, I would very much like to find out.” he rambles, his voice barely louder than a whisper, almost too quiet for you to hear over the blood rushing in your ears.

“Elijah, oh Elijah, I want to find out too. I want to find out so very badly,” you say twisting the cord between your fingers, nervous about what you’re about to ask him. “Do you maybe, want to go to the fair with me tomorrow then? And come over afterward?” you have the cord wrapped so tightly around your finger that you think it’s starting to cut off circulation but you’re too busy waiting for a response to answer.

“Yes,” he breathes out, like it was the only way to respond “Yes, I’d love to go to the fair with you Ben,”

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn, it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me. Oh, Calamity

          You always dreamed of a man when you were younger. A man who was as gentle as the breeze and as strong as the oaks in your backyard and he was the right kind of funny. A man who was sharper than knives and had a tongue to match his quick wit. He didn’t always look the same, his hair would change color and length, he’d get short and then tall and then short again. His eyes however, no matter what color they were, always looked at you with the gentlest expression.

You’re five years old and you only see him when you sleep, wrapped in the Fade together. You both play tag chasing each other round floating bookcases and sheer cliffs.

In time you realized that this was what your parents called “nature’s way of showing you your other half”. There were more technical terms for it now but you weren’t really interested in that. You were excited about this other half business. As a child you wondered if he liked playing with toy cars too, or if he was one of those boys who’d rather build towns only to wreck later, pretending to be great archdemons from old.

You’re twelve years old and your mother finally sits down and talks to you about how sometimes it doesn’t happen. That you aren’t always guaranteed a happy ending due to location and distance.

Your teachers explained that as you grew older, your soul began to recognize that it was missing something. Missing your soulmate, to try and amend this, your body produced dreams and visions of previous lives and people who your soul had found time and time again. Your body doesn’t know what your soulmate looks like this cycle so you can’t see who it is now, but you can dream, and remember. That’s why you see the boy in your dreams.

You’re nineteen years old and lonely and tired of searching and tired of disappointment. Despite this, no matter who or when someone offers a night to alleviate the pain a bit, you decline and dream of your boy who smiles at you with the same sad look in his eyes that you’ve started carrying in your own.

You wake up the morning before your birthday alone in your apartment when your brother calls to tell you that he’s found his soulmate. He invites you to dinner to meet the girl and you accept it, happy to share this moment with your brother. You get there and are reminded that in this lifetime happiness is for the man once called Cailan who died before he even knew he had a brother. Happiness is for the woman once called Anora who watched her father get executed in front of her. Happiness is not for you.

You’re fifty-four years old and playing with your nephews despite your angry knees and their arthritis. Your only niece sits with her mother because the mud just wasn’t her cup of tea and you can hear the perceptive little ten year old ask “Momma, why isn’t Uncle married like you and Daddy?”

When the alzheimer’s starts to take you, it gets hard to remember your niece’s name even though she was always your secret favorite. She still visits you but it’s hard on her and you can tell. She reminds you that she’s in college for her Master’s degree but you still don’t know what the degree is. You are forgetting a lot of things these days, but when you close your eyes the same familiar face greets you every time and you feel young again.

You’re eighty-seven years old and that is the best description of you. Old.

If I catch you on the corner will you even know it’s me? Will I look familiar to you? Do you offer me a seat? Can we find a new beginning? Do you turn the other cheek? Oh, Calamity!

Job hunting sucked. End of story, no other options, game over, it sucked and that was it. Thankfully Gwen (you wonder if she remembers yelling at you in that dingy house back in Denerim) said that you only had to do it for a few hours and three hours seemed long enough to you at least. You walked to the closest café, pulling the messenger bag higher on your shoulder as you turned the corner. The day was nice enough; maybe you could stop and sit down at one of the outside tables.      

After ordering (a tea of some sort and a cheesy croissant) you went back outside looking for a table. Sadly other patrons must have had the same idea that you did and most of the tables were already full. A particularly rowdy group of teens had already occupied one corner of the outside arrangements and you’d like to sit as far away from them as possible. You walk over to see if perhaps there are more tables around the side of the building, you’re out of luck but no one’s sitting in such a dense group as at the other tables.

You gaze around and finally you see someone sitting with a laptop and a few papers. You aren’t sure how friendly they are but they seem a better choice than the dodgy old man who glares at anyone who comes near. You walk up to the table with the man and his laptop, not the old guy, and hesitantly get the attention of the man sitting there.

“Oh uh hello, uhm may I sit here? This café is strangely busy and I’d rather not sit by all those teenagers. Not that I have a problem with teenagers but it’s a tad distracting when they scream random memes. Am I rambling? I think I’m rambling, I can find another table somewhere else,” the words fall out of your mouth in a somewhat coherent pattern and you hope he understands what you said.

“No, no you’re alright. Please, sit,” he says with a gentle smile, he even shuffles his papers closer to himself so you can set down your cup. You sling your bag over the back of the chair and sit down across from him. After sitting you smack yourself in the forehead before speaking again.

“Where are my manners today I’m sorry, my name is Van, pleased to meet you,” you say, extending your hand across the table to shake his. He has a strong grip and you’re glad you can return it in kind.

“The pleasure is mine, you can call me Ryan,” he says to you. After a moment, he watches you as you meticulously take apart your cheesy croissant. You flush under his gaze in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I’m just a little curious as to what you’re doing?” he asks looking over your mangled food.

“Oh! Well, you see, they hide the good bits under all this bread in some attempt to even out the flavor. However the truly tasty part is the lovely cheese blend they make here and I think they should just sell that on it’s own but the dear owner disagrees with me. Quite strongly in fact,” you explain to him. He chuckles at your explanation and then adds his own input.

“You know, the last time I met someone so in tune to the finer aspects of good cheese, he was a very strange man who spent time remembering his former life in a monastery where the boys had some fascination with lamp posts,” he says, and your eyes snap open to take in his features anew, yes there’s the twitch of the upper lip. You smirk back at him and take a second to remember a highlight in your relationship.

“Well, have you ever licked a lamp post in winter?” you drawl out hoping that your voice in this lifetime sounds similar to when you first said it back in the ninth age. He full out grins back and stands up to lean over the table and grab your shirt tugging you in.

“Congratulations on coming back to me again, my King,” he retorts, ignoring your question.

“I think you’re the one I should be saying that too Mr. Grey Warden who simply had to push me out of the way so that he could deal the last blow to the archdemon,” you snark back at him, remembering that fateful night. He just rolls his eyes at you and closes the distance, leaving the past memories in favor of making new ones.

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn, it’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me Oh, Calamity

“Almost makes you wish we could just fight another Blight and be done with it?”

“I’d take a Blight over a hundred awkward first dates, maybe not actually. There are too many darkspawn during those. And with our first dates I’m more likely to get laid now,”

“The one thing the movies never have, a shambling horde of shrieks and genlock to ruin our day,”

“The movies do end up with me back at your place more times than not surprisingly, seeing as you were the last one to lick a lamp post in winter between the two of us,”

“Oh we’ll see who’s licking the lamp post this time around Warden,”

“You know I’m not one of those anymore, especially since it’s been what, five centuries since the order died out?”

“Yes but this is probably our twentieth first meeting and it gets confusing if I try to remember all of the names you’ve had,”

“True enough, you royal bastard,”

Oh, Calamity, come back to me.

[thunderbirdthree]

Skyfall Part Two

Here’s the rest! I couldn’t find a good place to cut it so you’re going to get it all at once :) Thiis is the final part.

Part One (AO3)

Virgil saw the fireball crash in front of him, pressing on his control, pushing his ‘Bird to her very limits.

“Gordon I hope you’re ready.”

“FAB Virg.”

“Lowering pod, opening door in 5,4,3,2,1.”

Gordon watched the pod door open in front of him and felt his ‘Bird start to move forward. His brows furrowed in concentration as his ship slipped out from the pod, making sure the nose was pointed down so he would slip under the water, instead of hopping across it. He turned on his floodlights and pointed them at the floor.

It wasn’t hard to see Three, or really, what remained of her. There she sat nestled on the ocean floor, burnt and blackened, but he could still make out some of the distinctive red. H noted with a sigh of relief, that the piece sitting in front of him seemed to be the cockpit. He could only hope Alan had remembered his helmet, and the life support on his suit had survived the crash, and that the pressure of the G force… Gordon shook his head, he couldn’t be distracted. Yes it seemed unlikely Alan could survive this, but one way or another he was going to find his brother. He moved Thunderbird Four up towards the metal, focussing his lights towards it. Was that a flash of blue cloth he saw? Gordon put on his helmet and left Four, swimming as fast as he could towards what was in front of him. 

----

After Virgil had dropped off Gordon, he joined Scott in hovering over the water. 

“Hey Virgil, I’m going to set One’s autopilot and come on board.” Scott said over the . radio, voice thick with emotion.

“FAB Scott.” Virgil didn’t question it. Whatever happened next, whether Gordon came up empty handed, or with Alan- alive or dead, his family needed to be together. He barely glanced up as Scott made his way into the co pilot seat next to him. They were all trying to be professional, for the sake of the mission, but sitting here, watching and waiting, with nothing to do, Virgil was barely holding it together, and he knew that he didn’t think he could make contact with Scott without bursting into tears. Instead he watched as Thunderbird One turned herself around and flew off towards home.

Then there was a crackle over the radio.

“Hey guys? I’ve found him, he’s alive, barely, but he’s alive.” The tension release was almost audible. Barely alive wasn’t good, but barely alive was workable.

“We’re back in Thunderbird Four, Virg you better be ready for a pickup.”

“FAB Thunderbird Four.” Virgil was already adjusted the massive ship over the pod.

“I’ve alerted the nearest hospital that we’re on our way. Kayo and Grandma are flying over  in Thunderbird Shadow.” John’s professionalism had returned in full force.  Scott and Virgil watched the yellow Sub reappear and redock with Thunderbird Two.Scott leapt up from his seat, racing down to meet Gordon and Alan, Virgil joining him as soon as Two’s Autopilot was set to the coordinates EOS had uploaded to the navigational computer, and he had put the throttle on full blast. He found his brother’s still in the cargo bay. Gordon gave him a look as he approached.

“We figured we would be better off not moving him as much as we could. I’m not sure our med bay could really help him.” Virgil walked over and took a look at Alan. It took everything in him not to fall to the floor crying. Alan looked so small, his limbs where all weirdly bent, as though his bones were shattered. There was a huge gash on his forehead that someone had slapped a piece of gauze over to stop the blood from dripping down Alan’s face. It was going to need stitches but they were close enough to the hospital that Virgil decided to leave it to them. His hands were shaking too much to be of any use. An Oxygen mask was strapped over Alan’s face, and he was hooked up to a heart monitor. Virgil looked at the numbers. Alan’s blood oxygen was low and his heartbeat was slow, but he was breathing and his heart was beating. ut what scared Virgil most was the chunk of red metal sticking out of his brother’s uniform, blood all around it. Virgil reached over to brush some of Alan’s hair out of his face.

“Oh Allie…”

----

Shawna Morris had been on her break when Murray, a fellow nurse had come rushing into the break room yelling at them to turn on the TV. She and her fellow nurses had watched at Thunderbird Three tumbled out of the sky. She had watched as Thunderbird Four had dived after it, and she barely breathed as she watched the lack of movement on the screen. At one point she saw someone leave Thunderbird One and enter Thunderbird Two, before One turned around and sped off. And not 5 minutes later, she watched as Thunderbird Four reappeared and was lifted back into Thunderbird Two, with no indication of what had happened down below. She felt sick, to see a Thunderbird, one of the strong, dependable Thunderbirds crash down to Earth like that was so jarring. Her thoughts where distracted when Dr. Michaels crashed into the room.

“The IR operative is alive but in critical condition. We’re the closest major hospital to the crash site, Thunderbird two will be landing within the next 5 minutes. We need every available hand. Bring up all bags of A- blood we can find. We’re prepping Theater One for immediate emergency surgery. ” With that he sprinted out of the room. Shawna didn’t have time to think, just to spring into action. She raced down to the blood storage, where the techs where frantically attaching blood to IV lines. She, Murray and another nurse grabbed each ready pole and sprinted back to the elevators. When the door opened, Dr Michaels was bag, he nodded, 

“One of you follow me, we need to meet Thunderbird Two.” The group traveled to the ground floor and as the closest to the door, Shawna found herself following Dr Michaels into the parking lot. There was a whole team of people waiting to meet the ship. Specialists and nurses from every department. 

“Here they come!” Someone called out. Shawna looked up to see a speck in the sky that get getting bigger and bigger. Thunderbird Two landed in the parking lot, a door on the side opened and everyone leapt into action. Shawna only got close enough for a second to hook up the first blood transfusion, and only one thought made it through her mind.

“Oh my god, he’s a kid.”

----

Scott watched as the medical staff rushed Alan onto a gurney and into the hospital. He nodded at Virgil, a sign for the middle brother to go with them and see what was happening. Gordon made to follow, but Scott placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder,

“No, give them space to work.” With Alan in the hands of the doctors and nurses, Scott felt some of the adrenaline begin to wear off. His knees felt weak, like he might topple over any second. Gordon seemed to notice,

“C’mon Scott let’s get inside.” Wrapping an arm around him, Gordon led Scott into the building and into a chair. Scott tried to ignore, how everyone else in the waiting room seemed to be staring at them. He put his head in his hands, taking deep breaths as Gordon rubbed his back. This was backwards. Gordon had been the one who had actually had to save Alan, Scott just had to sit and wait, Gordon was the one he should be comforting. He managed to calm down enough to sit up.

“Are you ok Gordy?” He asked. Gordon shrugged,

“Are any of us?”

“Excuse me, sir.” A young receptionist walked over. “I was told to bring these to you?”. Scott took the offered clipboard with a small smile of thanks, and the receptionist left him to it. Looking down he noticed that it was paperwork with the title Hospital Admission of a Minor Under 18. With small bold lettering telling him that a parent or legal guardian needed to be the one filling it out. Legal Guardian, well, that was him. 

“He’s a kid, Gordon. He doesn’t deserve this, we let him in too young.” 

“Don’t blame yourself Scott, this is a freak accident, it could have happened to any of us. Besides you know we needed the extra person. Was it ideal, no. But it was what we had to do at the time. No one is at fault here.” Scott nodded, he still felt guilty, but that wasn’t a fair burden to lay on Gordon.

----

Shawna left the operating theatre to find the Thunderbird who had accompanied the kid up here. He was sitting outside the theatre, tearing a tissue into little pieces. He looked up as Shawna apprached, she put on what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. 

“Mr….” She started, before realizing she had no idea what this man’s name was. He was an international hero, had saved her own uncle a couple years previously, but he was anonymous to her.

“Call me Virgil.” He said offering a small, sad smile. “How is he.”

“Their finishing up now, I was sent to tell you that he’s in critical, but stable condition. They’ll be bringing him into ICU room three in about 20 minutes if you want to find the rest of your people and meet him there.” Shawna didn’t know for sure, but judging by the fact Thunderbird Two didn't move, Thunderbird One was now visible in the parking lot and a smaller third vehicle had shown up, she could only guess that no one had left. Virgil climbed to his feet.

“Thank you.” He told her, she nodded at him as he walked off, watching as he turned the corner. 

----

Virgil made his way down to the waiting room, where he wasn’t surprised to see that Grandma, Kayo, Brains and John had arrived. What he was surprised to see was the way they were all crowded around Scott whose shoulders were shaking harshly. 

“Hey what's going on?” Virgil asked approaching the group. Gordon looked up, 

“Did you know the International News Network managed to catch the whole thing on video? Because we sure didn’t. We were sitting here, waiting, when it started replaying on the news, Scott lost it. Won’t respond to us, not even when John told him he had to fly over in One.” Virgil looked up at the now blank TV screens, and how everyone else in the waiting room had moved away, giving his family space. Virgil pushed through the huddle around his brother, kneeling in front of Scott.

“Scott, hey look at me.” Scott didn’t respond, his shoulders shaking as he cried violently into his hands. Virgil used his hand to push his brother’s chin up so Scott could make eye contact with him. Red rimmed blue eyes met brown.

“He’s ok Scott, he’s coming out of surgery right now. He’s critical, but stable, and we can all go upstairs and see him ok.” Scott nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

“Ok, good, just breathe.” Virgil slipped into rescue mode, calming his brother. He wrapped one of Scott’s arms around his back, John hurried over to support the other side. Virgil tried to ignore the stares from everyone else in the room as his family made their way slowly up to the ICU.

----

Alan felt like he was in a fog under miles of water. Floating for a long time, nothing to see, nothing to hear, just dark and silence. He wasn’t panicking, he didn’t feel trapped, just calm, like nothing could hurt him. Something changed suddenly. It wasn’t as quiet, he could hear what sounded like a faint beeping from above him. Looking up, there was a light shining into the water. His curiosity got the better of him and he began swimming up towards the surface. As he approached the beeping got louder, and where those voices he could here? As he reached the surface and was about to break through, he heard three clear words. “He’s waking up.” 

The light was blinding as Alan cracked his eyes open. He immediately closed them against the harshness before giving it another try. He slowly blinked them open, letting his eyes adjust to the light and the two figures looking down on him. The faces began to be clear and Alan recognized Scott and Virgil looking down on him. They looked awful, was his first thought. Scott obviously hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his hair looked grayer than Alan remembered. Deep, dark circles lined his eyes, but they still glistened with happiness as he smiled down at Alan. Virgil didn’t look a whole lot better, but he at least looked vaguely like he’d seen a shower within the last few days. 

“Hey kiddo, welcome back.” Scott said softly, cupping Alan’s cheek with his hand. 

“What happened?” Alan managed to get out, voice throat sore and scratchy. Scott and Virgil looked at each other, seemingly having a private conversation. Virgil smiled at Alan and slipped out of the curtain. Scott took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“You crashed. As far as well can tell, you were hit by some sort of debris. It was enough to rip into three and send you on an uncontrolled spiral into Earth, hitting everything in your path. You crashed into the ocean.” Alan took the information in for a second. Virgil returned, holding a cup of ice. He spooned some into Alan’s mouth. Alan let it melt, the cool water soothing his throat.

“Did anyone else get hurt? How long have I been here?”

“No one else got hurt, Allie. It’s been about a month. They kept you in a medically induced coma to give the worst of your injuries a chance to heal, they started trying to wake you up last night.” Virgil supplied. 

“A… month?” Alan’s brain struggled to comprehend what was going on. Virgil chuckled,

“Yeah, you were injured pretty badly. The fact you even survived the crash was a miracle.” He paused, “Dr. Michaels will be in in a little while. They were very cautious about waking you up, but most of your severe injuries are healing nicely.”

“What happened to Three?” Scott and Virgil looked at each other. They had feared Three becoming a target for souvenir hunters, thanks to the news broadcasting her exact location, so when Alan had been in less critical conditions, John, Gordon and Vigil had taken Two out to salvage the wreckage from the bottom of the ocean. 

“Oh Allie.” Scott sighed. “The only piece of her to even make it back was the cockpit. I’m sorry.” Alan gulped trying to hold back the tears he felt in his eyes at that news. He felt Virgil pull him into a gentle hug.

“Try not to think of it, you’re alive. We can build another Three, we can’t build another you.” Alan nodded, trying to put on a brave face. Virgil stood back up. 

“I’m going to call home, I’m sure everyone else will want to fly out immediately.” He turned to Scott,

“See I told you he would wake up and be ok, now will you please take a shower lasting longer than 15 seconds.” Scott glared at Virgil, his eyes softening when Alan chuckled.

“It’s good to have you back kid.” Virgil said, as he left the room, to place his call.

6 months later

Alan gazed up at the new Thunderbird Three gleaming in front of him. He had been home for five and a half months now, his injuries were all but healed, and he could be cleared to return to flight as early as his next physical. He jumped as he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He looked up at Scott.

“What do you think?” His big brother asked.

“She’s beautiful.” Scott nodded,

“Brains does good work. John took her up for a test flight last night, said she’s as smooth as ever. Reinforced steel, the cockpit is now also a self- enclosed escape pod. I think Brains even said something about a new coffee machine.” Alan smiled at his brother,

“Sound’s great Scott.” He bit his lip.

“Hey, Alan look at me.” Alan turned to his brother. “You don’t have to go up, not now, not ever if you’re not ready.” Scott had concern in his eyes. Alan nodded.

“I’ll be ready Scott. It was a freak accident, it could have happened to any of us.” Alan took a deep breathe. Was he ready? He missed flying, he missed looking down on Earth from above, he missed helping people. He hadn’t realized just how many people he had rescued until his hospital room had been filled to the brim with flowers and cards from people all over the planet. People deserved to be rescued, as Virgil had once said, people deserve to know that if they called for help, someone was listening. Taking one last look up at his beautiful new ship Alan squared his shoulders and this time the confidence came easily,

“Yeah, I’ll be ready.”

[jjohnsonwriter]

Soft Targets

“Soft Targets and Crowded Places (ST-CPs), such as sports venues, shopping venues, schools, and transportation systems, are locations that are easily accessible to large numbers of people and that have limited security or protective measures in place making them vulnerable to attack.” - Department of Homeland Security (Securing 1).

The new film Joker came out October 4th in American theaters, and already there’s a shitstorm of controversy surrounding the film. For you math nerds, October 4th was Friday of last week, and I post these blogs on a Monday (the 7th). But the most opinionated articles from Vox and Vulture were both published on the 3rd (Lee 1). At least NBC had the decency to wait until the film had actually come out, publishing their article on the 5th (Bundel 1).

Before we go any further, I’d like to say now that this blog wont have any spoilers, but it will deal with the reaction and backlash to the film, and may talk speak very vaguely on the themes of the film.

But here’s my problem with this whole debate.

The movie is about a guy who’s (don’t worry no spoilers) let’s just say ‘struggling’. Someone who’s ‘fallen through the cracks’. Why are we more worried about the movie ‘creating’ more of these people and encouraging the worst of human behaviors than we are about what the film has to say? Maybe, instead of getting outraged about a movie, we could actually help people? No, that’s too crazy! That might actually make a difference!

Basically, in case you’ve been too busy living your life to sit around on the internet all day and follow the controversy, the film depicts (and I’ve seen it, so I’m not just talking out my ass here) a guy who’s got a lot in common with an ‘Incel’, or, an involuntarily celibate man who is part of a very loosely affiliated internet culture, and claims amongst its ranks terrorists such as Alek Minassian (A man who is accused of killing 10 people in Toronto on April 23rd, 2018), and Elliot Rodger, who killed six people before committing suicide in Isla Vista, California in May of 2014 (Elliot 1).

Basically ‘Incels’ blame the world (and mostly women) for their problems, chief among those problems, not getting laid, but other problems sometimes include financial problems, general social awkwardness and/or anxiety, and a lot of the time, not having any money (Louie 2). You know, money? That thing that pays for stuff? Like clothes, dates, a car, a place to fuck that isn’t your parent’s basement, and the fact that being unemployed or financially struggling can really cut into your confidence in the dating and/or hookup arena. Scientific evidence in the journal Evolution and Human Behavior also claims that on average women care a lot more about how much money a potential partner has than men do (Henderson 1). And yeah, I’m trans, and I acknowledge gay people are a thing, but this is a debate which centers around almost entirely cisgender heterosexual men.

Another big issue with the argument that I have with the people who’ve taken a stand against Joker is that I don’t think most of them have seen it. This is purely based on my own opinion, and the logic of the negative reaction that happened around the film before it was even released. But think about it: who would take to the internet, rave against the movie non stop, be part of a huge uproar, and then fork over the outrageous cost of a movie ticket to commercially support something they’re so outspoken against? 

The film had a very vocal fanbase, mostly young men. Surprise: an r-rated movie about a comic book villain has a mostly cis-male fanbase, which honestly my feeling is: good for them. I’m happy for people who get to feel happiness and joy. What kind of asshole is ‘anti-fun’? Well, in short, the most ‘woke’ among us, that’s who. And also, no, I’m not saying everyone in that group is an incel, because incels are probably like white nationalists: there really aren’t that many, they just know how to push the right buttons to get their message repeated over and over by a media system which really cares more about wagging the dog than following a story which will inform the public, so incels probably always look like a much larger group of people than they actually are.

Here’s a quote from a Vox article about the story written by Alissa Wilkinson who did actually see the film:

“the kinds of threats around this movie match, in a non-accidental way, a message that could be taken away from the movie — that violence is the logical answer to feelings of loneliness and despair” Wilkinson 1.

Ok, but are we going to ban or censor everything that ‘could’ be possibly taken the wrong way? I’m aware of the fact that this echoes the common argument we hear against gun control which goes something like ‘are we to ban everything that could be used as a weapon?’, but Wilkinson’s Vox review goes on to say: “By contrast, Joker is about a man who’s convinced that society has gone entirely mad, who explicitly believes in nothing and no moral code, and who becomes a folk hero for turning to violence as a result.” Wilkinson 1.

So why do we have to follow the man in this film as an example of moral decency, and how we should live our lives? It’s an ‘R’ rated film, meaning that anyone under the age of 17 must be accompanied by a parent or adult guardian (Moyses 3). The only people who should be capable of seeing the film are either those who are less than one year from being an adult, or someone who’s parent has decided they are mature enough to handle anything that happens in the film, and yeah, I’m sure some amount of unaccompanied minors sneak into the movie, but it’s a two hour movie, not a weekend at the Branch Davidians’.

Works Cited

Bundel, Ani. “ ‘Joker,’ starring Joaquin Phoenix, sparked an incel controversy because it’s hopelessly hollow.” Nbcnews.com. National Broadcasting Company,  5 Oct. 2019.

https://www.nbcnews.com/think/opinion/joker-starring-joaquin-phoenix-sparked-incel-controversy-because-it-s-ncna1062656. Accessed 6 Oct. 2019.

“Elliot Rodger: How misogynist killer became ‘incel hero.” BBC.com, British Broadcasting Company, 26 Apr. 2018. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-43892189. Accessed 6 Oct. 2019.

Henderson, Callum. “Science has proven that women care more about money when dating than men.” Vt.com, Jungle Creations, 16 Feb. 2018. https://vt.co/lifestyle/relationships/science-proven-women-care-money-dating-men/. Accessed 6 Oct. 2019.

Lee, Chris. “How Joker Became the Most Hated, Loved, Obsessed-Over Movie of 2019.” Vulture.com, New York Magazine, 3 Oct. 2019. https://www.vulture.com/2019/10/all-the-joker-controversy-and-threats-explained.html. Accessed 6 Oct. 2019.

Louie, Sam. “The Incel (Involuntarily Celibacy) Problem.” Psychologytoday.com, Sussex Publishers, 24 Apr. 2018. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/minority-report/201804/the-incel-involuntary-celibacy-problem. Accessed 6 Oct. 2019.

Moyses, Kendra. “What do movie ratings mean?” canr.msu.edu, Michigan State University, 27 Sept. 2017. https://www.canr.msu.edu/news/what_do_movie_ratings_mean. Accessed 6 Oct. 2019.

“Securing Soft Targets and Crowded Places Resources.” DHS.Gov. U.S. Department of Homeland Security, 28 Jun. 2019. https://www.dhs.gov/publication/securing-soft-targets-and-crowded-places-resources. Accessed 6 Oct. 2019.

“Trial date set for Toronto van attack suspect.” theglobeandmail.com. The Globe and Mail Inc., 4 Dec. 2018. https://www.theglobeandmail.com/canada/article-trial-date-set-for-toronto-van-attack-suspect/. Accessed 6 Oct. 2019.

[lashydsdomain]

1-45 FOR SUGAR PUSH OWO

- How do they fall asleep? Wake up? Any daily rituals?

Bella usually wants to sleep with Harlow but he’s anxious about it since he’s turned her into a pin cushion multiple times in his sleep. I think Bella tends to wake up first and usually goes to make breakfast for the hive.

- How’s their team work? Do they share well?

Bell…. Probably shares a lot better than Harlow since he um. He tends to want and need a lot of attention and doesn’t always come to Bell for it. It bothers her but she still hasn’t said anything yet.

As for teamwork I think they tend to be alright at it? Nothing special, just how they do.

- Are they open about their relationship? How do they feel about public displays of affection?

They’re a bit quiet about it since Harlow is a celebrity and Bella would prefer she not get a metric fuck ton of death threats. People know but not too many thankfully. Bell is a bit squirrely about PDA but she’s into it. She does prefer somewhere semi private though.

- First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?

More like lust at first sight. They met in a park and Bella might have read his mind and died because he was thinking about railing her. It kill the Bell.

- Nicknames? Pet names? Any in-jokes?

They call each other puppy and kitten and it’s kinda cute. There are likely a few in jokes but I can’t think of any right now whoops.

- Any tasks that are always left to one person?

Hm. Not really actually. Bella does majority of the cooking but Harlow does sometimes as well. She always appreciates when he does.

- What annoys them the most about their partner? Would they change it if they could?

Harlow being a damn ho. It bothers Bell to no end but she’s also aware he’s a hyper sexual motherfucker and she’s unsure if she wants to take on the full brunt of it. She does want him to stop though, she just hasn’t gotten around to talking with him about it because she’s a weenie.

He can also be a bit neglectful when he starts to hyper focus but she doesn’t blame him for that; she knows he can’t exactly help it.

- What do the like best about their partner?

Bell loves how genuinely kind he can be and how safe he makes her feel. He’s finally getting around and learning how to help her with her PTSD and she’s so proud of him for it.

- Do they discuss big issues? Religion? Marriage? Children? Death?

Death is a somewhat common topic. They don’t really discuss children but they do have descendants eventually.

- Who drives? Cooks? Does the handiwork? Cleans? Pays the bills? Handles the public?

Harlow drives 90% of the time, Bell usually cooks, cleans, and does handiwork, they both pay their own bills since they live semi separately, and Harlow always handles the public. Bella has too much anxiety for that.

- Do they celebrate holidays? Anniversaries?

Harlow tends not to but he does occasionally for Bella and it shatters her poor heart to know he cares that much.

- Is there a wedding? What was the proposal like? Any kind of honeymoon?

If I remember right they do indeed get married as humans; it’s not something that’s been talked about too much but I have a feeling it might have been a kinda small one. That honeymoon lasted a good long while though.

- What do they do for fun? Do they have a favorite activity or do they like to switch things up?

They do the usual couple things like movies n cuddling n shit; Bella isn’t much for people but occasionally Harlow can convince her to go out to a club with him. Bella also likes listening to Harlow work on his music but I don’t know if that’s exactly fun for DJ man himself.

- Anything they both dread?

Breaking up I think; I know it’s a big anxiety for Bella even if she’s thought about it quite a bit from both ends.

- How adventurous are they?

Bella isn’t super adventurous but will go along with just about anything Harlow asks her to do but she does have a few lines she refuses to cross.

- Do they keep secrets? Lie? Cheat?

Bella keeps so many damn secrets. They were dating for two years before he found out why she has PTSD. She also lies occasionally if Harlow asks if she’s ok; it’s not so much because it’s him, it’s more so she feels if she says it she might feel better later.

Their relationship is semi open much to Bellas dislike so there isn’t much cheating going on. At least Harlow doesn’t talk about it with her.

- What would make them break up? Would it be permanent?

It’s been discussed that in order for them to have a functional relationship they might have to break up and get back together for Harlow to understand just how bad his actions effect Bell. I’m unsure if it’ll ever actually happen but it’s possible.

- What are their dates like? How long do/did they date? Do they ever feel the need to take a break from each other?

Typically they’re at home since Bella dislikes going out too much and Harlow can get bothered by fans in other places.I think it was about half a year until they started dating.Bella kind of feels like they need one right now if I’m honest. She’s very tired and her emotions are absolutely everywhere about him.

- What do they fight about? What are their arguments like? How do they make up?

Usually it’s something that was overlooked and caused a bad reaction. They’ve only really ever fought once though and it was because Harlow barely looked at Bell for around 2 or 3 months. They made up by talking it out and cuddling; it also affirmed with Bell that Harlow does really love her.

- What does their home look like? Their room?

They have separate homes and flip flop between them every now and then.

- Do they share any interests or hobbies?

They both really enjoy music. I think Harlow is interested in Bells magic even if it isn’t for a great reason but it’s there.

- Does their work ever interfere with the relationship?

They can both get absorbed into their work and kind of forget the outside world for a while. It’s rare but it does happen.

- How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort?

Often and A Lot. Harlow is a very physically affectionate person and Bella is the sponge to soak it all up. Harlow Really Enjoys teasing Bella. Absolutely adores it.

- Any doubts about the relationship?

Not sure on Harlows end but Bell does occasionally worry about him just using her and not really loving her but that’s mostly in the past but it won’t ever really go away. It’s that Anxiety™ man.

- How much time do they spend together? Do they share their feelings, or hold things in?

Quite a bit usually. Both tend to keep things to themselves and hide feelings until they bubble over. It’s Bad.

- How do their friends feel about their relationship? Their families?

Most of their friends didn’t exactly approve of the relationship when it started since Labelle can bit a bit of a push over and Harlow is kind of a fuckboy. Bella’s mom still doesn’t 100% approve of it but Bell is happy.I’m pretty sure Beans is ecstatic they’re together and that’s adorable.

- Do they have kids? Grow old together? Split up?

They do eventually have kids, Lavora and Rydere, and are likely to stay together until Harlow dies. They have the possibility of breaking up but it’s not 100%

- What are their vacations like?

Probably somewhere abroad and fancy or somewhere deep in the woods just away from everything and everyone. Harlow likes the big crowds and lights but even he needs to recharge once in a while.

- How do the handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness?

Panic. That’s about it. Both panic if the other is hurt. Bell can thankfully heal her own wounds usually and Harlows powers heal him fairly fast.Minor injuries still worry each other I think, Bell hates seeing Harlow hurt at all.Neither have been sick but I have a feeling it would end in one of those really mushy ‘tending to your sick lover in bed’ situations.

- Could they manage a long distance relationship?

Occasionally they have to for months at a time since Harlow goes on tour. They talk usually every day unless Harlow is too busy and Bella catches what she can on TV.

- Do they finish each other’s sentences? Pick up any phrases or habits from each other? Know when the other is hiding something?

I’d say no to all but Bell has a natural sense for if people are hiding something. She won’t pry too much but she does ask when she notices. Harlow is oblivious 90% of the time.

- Do they ever get into trouble? Is it serious, or are they just mischievous?

Usually mischievous but they have gotten into some pretty serious situations where one or both could have died.

- What kind of presents do they get each other? Do they only do it on special occasions?

Harlow tends to shower Bell in gifts from places he’s visited. Bell tries her best to find things he’s going to like but honestly she has no idea what to give him other than affection since if he wants something he can just. Buy it.

- Do they have any pets?

Harlow got Bell a support puppo that got named Beowoof. That’s about as close to owning pets together as they have since I don’t think their parents would enjoy being called pets.

- Do they bring out the best in each other, or the worst? Do they have a fatal flaw?

It’s a mixed bag I’d say. I’d say it’s more accurate to say they bring out each others true selves as cheesy as that is. A fatal flaw would probably be that they don’t communicate how they’re (cough bella cough) feeling enough

- What’s their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?

Greatest strength I think would be quite literal. Between Harlows regeneration and strength and Bella’s magic the pair would likely be a bit terrifying. A weakness as above though is likely lack of communication.

- How much would they be willing to sacrifice for the other? Any lines they refuse to cross?

Both would kill for the other. There are a lot of lines that shouldn’t be crossed on Bells end but it’s more personal boundaries. She dislikes death but has killed a lot of people herself and is just a little miffed when Harlow does so.

- What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do?

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)For the most part they’re fairly rough and aggressive but the occasional soft loving sessions are adorable. There are a few things Bella won’t do but Harlow will do pretty much anything and everything.

- Who initiated the relationship? Who kissed who first?  When did they realize they were in love?

It was Harlow I believe on the first two, and probably Bella on the third. She falls a bit easily if someone is too nice.

- Any special memories? Do they have a special place they like to go to?

The first time they met I think will always be one for Bella, even if it’s for her to laugh about most of the time. I don’t think there’s a special place though.

- Are they party-goers? What are they like when they’re drunk? Does it happen often?

Bella hates parties but Harlow thrives in them so they go occasionally. Bella is an absolute mess when drunk and Harlow gets really lovey and affectionate. It’s not too common of an occurrence since Bella has had issues with alcohol before but it’s not rare. Maybe once a week or so for Bell at least.

- Do they let each other get away with things that would normally bother them?

Bella lets Harlow get away with far too much.

- Do they talk often? What about?

They likely talk at least once a day. Probably just about how their day is going and just to check in and make sure they don’t need anything.

- Are the comfortable with each other? Anything they have to have their privacy for?

They’re very comfortable around each other for the most part. Both need time apart occasionally when they get overwhelmed.

- Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets?

Bell regrets not being more open with him and has a hard time doing it now. She just really hopes they stay together for a long time. Unsure about Harlow tho.

[chrisfranklinchow]

Weight of Living

this is a little late but this was written for the first day of @chowderweek​! (full moon)

this fic is based on personal experiences and i’m super happy with how it turned out :”) thank you to @omgcphee​ for cheering me on as i screamed my head off while scribbling it in my notebook!! also, thank you to my papa and our memories.

[Also on AO3]

(warning: minor character death in this fic!!!!!)

All he feels is dampness on his face as he lies spooning a package that’s travelled a long way. He’s gasping and trying to inhale more oxygen, trying not to choke. He buries his head in his wet pillow, trying to keep it down; he doesn’t want anyone to know that anything’s wrong.

He hears gentle knocks on the door and sucks it up, raising his hand to wipe his tears away before opening the door. However, he’s still grasping at a sheet of paper with familiar handwriting. Tears have flooded his eyes again and he just shouts at the person outside.

“Yo Chow, I heard someone crying, was it you?” asks the person outside. Chris took a deep breath before shouting back, “Nope, wasn’t me!” The person makes a sound,  like he wants to say something, but stopped.

“Ok, just holler if you wanna hang out, I noticed there’s an email that mentioned it was the Mid-Autumn Festival?” the voice says. Chris shakes his head, before realising that they can’t see him.

His voice cracks as he replies, “Yeah, maybe later?”

Silence. It feels unbearable.

“Ok… If you say so…” says the voice outside. He hears footsteps, and then there are none.

He didn’t mean to cry, but the combination of the letter and the forgotten package’s contents pushed him to tears. He re-reads the letter again.

“Only eat a quarter of it with some hot tea. Don’t get sick. Your exams are coming up and the hockey season is just starting,” and just like that, he can hear his mama nagging in his ears.

He sniffs and lifts the seemingly simple tin from the package. But it isn’t just something just simple to Chris. It’s a tin of a traditional mooncake.

(His yeye’s favourite mooncake.)

Some of his fondest memories are the Mid-Autumn Festival celebrations at his yeye’s home. Running around his yeye’s backyard with his siblings and cousins. Kneeling on a chair for a better view so he can see yeye cut open the mooncakes. Sitting on his yeye’s lap as they sit on the steps, watching the moon while eating his mother-regulated quarter of a mooncake. And then ending the night by jumping off his lap to join his family in lighting some sparklers.

Some of the events might have switched orders or not have happened at every celebration. But something that never changed was his yeye sneaking him an extra quarter of his favourite mooncake before his family left for home.

The first time his yeye did that, he tried to refuse, saying that his mother would know and scold him. But yeye just shook his head and gestured for him to eat it quickly. Subsequently, every time his yeye offered, Chris would gobble it up quickly while grinning at yeye; contraband mooncake consumption was tastier anyways.

(While glancing down at yeye’s peaceful face in the coffin, Chris’ papa broke down and grasped onto Chris’ hand.

“You were always his favourite grandchild.”)

In his own childish opinion, the first time he felt ‘true sadness’ was when his yeye was too sick to host the annual Chow family Mid-Autumn Festival celebration. That year, only his small family of 5 could make it. While it wasn’t the loud and crowded celebrations he was used to, Chowder still had a great time, sitting around yeye’s bed and listening to yeye’s stories.

That time, instead of sneaking Chris his extra mooncake quarter, he raised it to his mouth, nudging at it. Chris panicked and looked at his mama, but she only had eyes for yeye. Seeing as his mama didn’t make a big fuss, he opened his mouth and nibbled at the mooncake while sharing a grin with yeye.

(Chris was glad that his last memory of yeye was his familiar, toothless smile, but he regrets not giving him a hug goodnight, even if it was against his mama’s wishes.)

It just happened, without a bang, without commotion. When he woke up,  he saw his yeye’s door closed, something he never saw in all his time there. He tip-toed quietly to the room but was intercepted by his papa. His eyes were bloodshot but his grip was firm.

“Your yeye passed on during the night, and a doctor is doing the autopsy now.”

Chris struggled and managed to break out of his papa’s grip, only to be stopped by his mama’s strong arms around his waist. His eyes were fixated on his yeye’s room, and the doctor walked out, looked him in the eye, before looking down on the floor, shaking his head.

If Chris thought he had felt ’true sadness’ the day before, today proved him wrong. He bawled and bawled until he couldn’t bawl anymore, and all the while surrounded by his papa and mama, stroking his hair and telling him that everything will be okay.

(It’ll never be okay, it’ll never be okay, it’ll never be okay. And sometimes, he still resents them for preventing him from seeing his yeye lying in his favourite spot, one last time.)

His yeye is dead, and Chris just experienced his first heartbreak.

Chris’ yeye had been the glue that held the Chow family together and without him, there weren’t any more Chow annual Mid-Autumn Festival celebrations. The first year of someone’s passing meant no elation or celebrations, only mourning. The first year of yeye’s passing, Chris’ family visited yeye’s grave and Chris was the one who put the mooncake offerings on the grave, marking a new Chow family tradition, a more solemn one.

(Chris never ate a mooncake ever again and tried his best to forget everything about his yeye - his death anniversary, his cheeky grin, and his enthusiasm for life. He didn’t do that because he hated his yeye; he did that because he loved his yeye too much.)

His first year at Samwell marks the first year he left his parents home and while he feels homesick and anxious about not having familiar faces around him, he feels that he’s adjusted relatively well. Everyone thinks he’s a little too excitable for a person living away from home, but his fellow frogs seem to think he’s cool.

Which is why he doesn’t expect his happy facade to be in peril when his friend from the Chinese Students Association approached him while he was heading to the Haus with Nursey and Dex.

“Hey Chris, wait up,” comes a voice from behind him, and he sees a figure rushing up to him, waving his hands enthusiastically.

Chris stops in his tracks while Nursey and Dex stare at him curiously. Chris gestures to them to go ahead without him. But they both just shake their heads and hang back a little.

When Chris turns, his friend Mark gives him a huge smile and shoves a flyer in his face. “Hey, did you know about the Mid-Autumn Festival dinner? Wanna go there together tonight?”

Chris feels his face fall, and Mark’s face takes on a shocked expression. “Not like a date, even if I wanted that, but just because I don’t know that many people there and I thought it would be fun with you around,” he backtracks.

Chris just stares at him before realising it might be rude.

“Ah, it’s just that… I have a team meeting and it might go on into the night? Sorry.” he says, with a shrug. “Maybe next year?” he adds.

At this point, Mark is looking down at the ground. “Ah yeah. Maybe next year.”

Mark lets out a loud sigh and shakes his head, before throwing a smile at Chris. He then shoves something at Chris’ chest and out of instinct, he grabs onto it with both his hands.

“See ya soon, Chris and friends,” he shouts as he runs back to his own group of friends.

The item in his hands feels cold, angular and somewhat familiar. He looks down, hesitantly, and immediately feels as though the universe is playing a major practical prank on him. He sniffs and tried to hold in his tears.

Of course, it just had to be a tin of mooncake. And he must have stood in the same spot for so long because he soon feels a weight on his shoulder.

“Yo Chow, you feeling alright?” Nursey asks.

Chris knows he has to snap out of it. He doesn’t want to cry in front of his new friends. He smiles widely at Nursey, even if he did not want to do so.

“Yeah I’m doing great, let’s just get back to the Haus!”

From the look Nursey and Dex shared, he must not be convincing enough, so he just throws both arms around each of their shoulders and drags them in the direction of the Haus.

“C’mon guys, you don’t want us to be fined right?” he asks them, cheekily.

They snap out of it and break into a run, laughing all the while.

(They end up being late. Chris blames himself.)

He can’t concentrate during the entire meeting because of the weight of the tin in his hands. The team’s voice washes over him, like a comforting blanket, but not comforting enough. Because after the entire meeting, he tosses the mooncake into the trash bin. It feels wasteful but he doesn’t want those bad memories.

He nods after a job well done, and when he turns around, he comes face-to-face with Nursey. Chris freezes in his tracks as Nursey walks past him to grab something from the fridge.

As Nursey closes the fridge, he says, “If you rush, you should be able to make it for the CSA’s Mid-Autumn Festival dinner. The ballroom is on the way to my dorm and I can walk there with you.”

Chris feels his eyes widen and looks into Nursey’s eyes. His gaze is steady, kind, and Chris feels undeserving. He shakes his head.

“I’m feeling a little ill and I don’t want to just barge in. I think I’ll just go next year,” he says.

Nursey shrugs, conveying the simple message, “You’re kinda weird, but I like you, so suit yourself,” and Chris catches himself smiling.

Chris can’t let Nursey have the last word (or action) and jokes, “Stay safe on your way back and text me once you get back to the dorm.”

Nursey rolls his eyes, smirks. “Yes, Papa Chow,” he replies, sarcastically, before walking past him. But then he stops in his tracks, and out of nowhere places the back of his hand on Chris’ forehead. He then puts it on his own forehead.

“Yeah, you’re feeling kinda warm. Get some rest, k?” Nursey says, before finally making his way out of the Haus.

Chris slides down onto the floor and takes several deep breaths. In and out, and in and out, and in and out.

When he recovers, he rushes back to his dorm after quick goodbyes to his Haus mates. He jumps into the comfort of his bed and weeps into his pillow. He can’t believe he had honestly forgotten his yeye. And he cries until he falls asleep.

(He wakes up with sore eyes and a text from Nursey.

Attached is a photo of Nursey cheesing in front of the camera. “Made it back safely, Papa Chow, rest well!”

And Chris just laughs and goes off to wash his face.)

Loud and frantic knocks at his door dragged Chris out of his memories. He screeches before silencing himself with both his hands after realising that it’s late. He takes a deep breath, rubs at his eyes with his sleeves, and goes to open the door. He just hopes that his crying before wasn’t too obvious. He looks out of the open door’s crack and comes face-to-face with Nursey.

Nursey looks calm and collected-- everything Chris wants to look like at this moment. With seemingly no knowledge of Chris’ internal struggles, Nursey raises a bag in front of Chris’ face and rustles it lightly.

“Heard from some of the CSA members that lighting sparklers were some of their favourite memories from their family’s Mid-Autumn Festival celebration. And they send their regards by the way,” Nursey says, breaking the silence.

Chris just stares at Nursey, surprised. Also, he gets to see Nursey shuffle his feet, a sure sign that he’s feeling awkward. Nursey reaches out and punches Chris in the shoulder.

“C’mon, indulge your best friend for once in your life,” he whines.

Chris chuckles, swayed by his happy memories. (Not Nursey’s enthused and petulant tone.)

He nods and tells Nursey to meet him downstairs because he needs to wash his face and change into a new shirt. Nursey cracks a smile too, maybe because of the authentic chuckle he heard from Chris, and heads downstairs to wait for him.

Chris looks at his reflection in the mirror.

He looks god-awful.

He looks away from his face and splashes tons of water on his face, in the hopes that he’ll look more acceptable. He then rustles at his hair and wonders, “What the hell am I doing?”

It’s too late to back out of the offer now; it would just be rude when Nursey just wants to cheer him up. So he sucks it up.

But before leaving his bedroom, he spies the mooncake tin caught in between the creases of his duvet. Against his better judgement, he sweeps it up and shoves it into his hoodie’s pocket.

They sit on the Haus’ back steps, with the only sounds being the chirping of the cicadas and the soft crackling of the sparklers in their hands. When the first stick extinguishes, Chris immediately reaches for another one and lights it up. He doesn’t notice that he’s smiling.

“Now there’s the smile I was looking for,” he hears from beside him. Chris twists to look at Nursey, ducking his head in embarrassment.

(Nursey has always been beautiful. But he’s even more beautiful with the sparks illuminating his face.)

They sit in comfortable silence, just watching the sparklers burn to the last bit.

“Yeah, I can totally understand why people enjoy burning these things, especially on such a beautiful night when the moon just looks larger than usual,” Nursey says.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Chris sees Nursey pointing at the moon. He panics and instantly slaps at Nursey’s hand. Nursey drops his sparkler to the ground in shock, and Chris stomps on it, hoping it doesn’t burn the grass. Nursey turns to Chris, with a hurt expression, before looking away and just grabbing at another sparkler.

Honestly, how many times has Chris gone red today?

“Sorry, it’s just, my grandpa always smacked at my hands when I pointed at the moon. It’s apparently bad luck,” he mumbles.

The hurt expression on Nursey’s face disappears, and he just looks at Chris, questioningly.

Chris doesn’t know where this bravery came from as he continues, “I don’t remember why he said it was bad luck, it’s just something he taught me.”

Silence.

“I-I-I just miss him so much,” Chris stutters, before extinguishing his sparkler.

“This was a mistake, I’m going to go,” he mutters and standing up to leave.

Out of nowhere, Nursey grabs onto his arm and pulls him down, and Chris stumbles, almost landing in Nursey’s lap.

“What else did he tell you? Is there anything else I shouldn’t do? C’mon Chow, you can’t just let me get cursed like this! I’m already so clumsy, I can’t add being cursed to that list,” Nursey begs.

Chris is overwhelmed with his fondness for Nursey, and he just wants to share some of his love, his pain, and his yeye’s wisdom with someone willing to listen. So he just takes a deep breath and just rambles about how much he loved his yeye, how he celebrated Mid-Autumn Festivals with his entire family, and how much he just tried to forget everything about his yeye after his passing.

Nursey just sits there, nodding encouragingly when Chris looks up, trying to see if he is bored.

By the end of all his rambling, he realises that warm tears are streaming down his cheeks. Nursey raises his hand towards Chris’ face, trying to wipe his tears away before he stops and passes a handkerchief to Chris instead.

Chris grabs at it and wipes aggressively at his face.

“Honestly Chow, you shouldn’t have kept all this to yourself for so long. And I know you didn’t ask, but I really think your grandpa wouldn’t want you to be so sad over him or even stop celebrating your favourite thing because of him,” Nursey says.

Chris sniffs and Nursey continues, “You just need to make new memories. We’re your family now, and starting next year, we can start some new family traditions.”

Chris dabs at his eyes again, “Gosh you’re going to make me cry again Nurse!” he jokes.

They share a laugh before going back to watching their sparklers burn. When both their sparkler sticks are about to finish burning, Chris just bumps shoulders with Nursey, trying to convey his appreciation. Nursey, who just knows what he’s thinking at all times, just bumps Chris’ shoulder back.

(Oh god, he’s in love with his best friend.)

They’re tossing the remains of their sparklers in the trash when Chris thinks, "This is as good as a time as ever." He whips out the mooncake tin from his pocket.

“This was my grandpa’s favourite mooncake. Wanna share it?” he asks Nursey.

He waits as they stand in silence, his heart beating loudly, as he bears his sadness and soul to Nursey.

Nursey just nods, and they fall into a rhythm with Chris cutting the mooncake into quarters and Nursey grabbing two plates.

Chris gestures to Nursey to take the first bite. Nursey carefully grabs a quarter and puts it in his mouth. His face lights up as he chews and chews and chews.

Chris is placated by Nursey’s pleasure and tosses a quarter into his own mouth.

It tastes delicious. Delicious, but bittersweet.

Nursey must have caught him staring because he smirks and turns to look out the window at the nighttime sky.

Chris does the same thing and realises that Nursey was right. He needs to make new memories and traditions with his newfound family.

Nursey is also right about how the moon looks larger than usual, larger than life. And it also seems that there were more stars than usual. As they twinkle down on them, Chris is overwhelmed by his love for his yeye. They remind him of his yeye’s bright smile.

Chris can’t help but smile as he reaches for another quarter of the mooncake.

[lawyerladyakw80]

We Need to Talk About Gun Violence

Let’s have a frank discussion about guns or, more accurately, let’s have a frank discussion about gun violence.  At the outset, I’d like to disclose my biases.  I don’t like guns.  I’m inherently risk-adverse when it comes to personal safety.  I’m a person who goes out of her way to avoid people who act strange, people who are overly emotional, people who believe in conspiracies, people who look for conflict where conflict doesn’t exist, people who refuse to believe in the better parts of humanity, and people who inherently believe that everything in life is somehow about them.  

But I’m also a practicing attorney and, unfortunately, I’m confronted by many of those exact personalities on a daily basis.  I’ve done a lot of reading and a lot of thinking over the past 19 years since Columbine about guns and gun violence.  I saw “Bowling for Columbine” in the theater when I was in college and I shared Michael Moore’s confusion about what makes America so exceptional when it comes to guns and gun violence.  My confusion has only grown as the carnage as increased and mass shootings have become a regular occurrence.

Now, I am also a mother and watching scenes from Newtown and Parkland are terrifying reminders that we can’t control for all risk in our children’s lives. But school shootings and other public mass shootings (like Aurora) make me ask why.  Why do we have this problem in the United States?  A country that prides itself on American Exceptionalism. And they make me ask how.  How do we change it?  How do we reverse course?  How do we come together and affect change?

My readings have informed me of some basic truths about American culture:

1.   The Myth of American Exceptionalism

First, American Exceptionalism seems to extend, primarily, to certain Americans feeling entitled to being exceptional.  With the recent school shooting in Parkland, a spate of articles have been written about toxic masculinity amongst, in particular, white males in America.  An article in Harpers Bazaar points out that the recent shootings in Parkland, Aurora, Charleston, and the Isla Vista killings near UC Santa Barbara were all carried out by young white males who were ostracized by their peers, angry about perceived slights by girls and other students, and were enacting their own sense of “retribution” (the Isla Vista killer even uploaded a YouTube video using the word retribution) for these perceived slights.  However, as the Harpers Bazaar article detailed, these types of killings and shootings are not new.  In the late 80s into the mid-90s, people were being killed, primarily by men, at workplaces because of layoffs and the notion that a disgruntled worker could come and shoot up his workplace became the norm.  So why do some male Americans feel they are entitled to anything, in particular?  I believe this goes back to the myth of American Exceptionalism.  If America is, in fact, exceptional, then it would follow those at the top of that food chain – historically, white males – should be exceptional and live exceptional lives (or so they may believe).  So imagine their disappointment when equal rights for women, equal rights for racial minorities, equal rights for sexual minorities, and globalization and global trade policies force them to compete for the jobs they had previously gotten by being at the top of that food chain.  And then think about how these same men are hard-wired to handle their disappointments – with aggression, anger, and lashing out. It is absolutely their own choices and agency that bring them to this point, but to ignore what society teaches men about the correlation between aggression and success and self-worth is to ignore history.

I’ve heard a lot of gun-rights advocates and politicians, who tend to be from conservative districts, blame the media, and video games, and violent movies for the increase in violence from these men.  This strain of thought goes, “We used to bring our hunting rifles to school back when I was in school and people didn’t shoot each other.  It’s society that has changed, not the guns.”  Let’s presume I accept, whole-cloth the notion that society has changed in significant ways.  Is it really the video games and movies?  Or might it be the equal rights, and anger, that those rights illicit.  The reason that many liberals find Donald Trump’s rhetoric so dangerous is because it feeds into this same anger.  It blames minorities or immigrants for the plight of the white working class man. It blames globalization.  And as that rhetoric blames “the other” for these slights, it also asks for violence.  In a rally during his campaign, Donald Trump specifically urged violence against protestors.  So is it really any wonder that we are here?  To be very clear, I’m absolutely not blaming Donald Trump for the shootings as many happened before him and will likely happen after he is out of office. But his rhetoric is indicative of the overall disease that is American Exceptionalism and, at its base, white male exceptionalism.  His appeal was to working class white voters who felt like “their country was being taken from them.”  

My only advice to anyone struggling with these acts and who may or may not be raising children or helping others raise children:  teach your children they are owed nothing.  Teach your children that hard work does not always compute to success and that setbacks are a natural part of life.  Teach your children that they have value despite their job, despite their romantic prospects, and despite the number of “likes” on their facebook feed.  Value comes from making the world a better place, making the world a happier place, and being kind to others, particularly when those people are struggling.

2.   The More Polarized We Become, the More Likely We Will Have Mass Violence

Dr. Brene Brown, a Christian and a clinical researcher, writes extensively about her research in vulnerability.  She recently spoke/gave the guest sermon at the National Cathedral and I would urge everyone to find the YouTube video of her sermon.  I’m not religious and many in the crowd were not particularly religious, but Dr. Brown spoke about religion as the interconnectedness of people.  She said that she cannot be happy or satisfied if there are people in sub-Saharan Africa suffering.  That to be a godly person or a religious person, she believes our interconnectedness makes it important that we strive to end suffering for all people.  And she discussed politics and the polarization of politics.  

Dr. Brown posits that our political discourse is so polarized that we, essentially, dehumanize the other side of the debate.  She explains that humans are hard-wired to be social animals and that we are genetically hard-wired to care for one another.  So in order to write, think, type or read the kinds of things we often read or write about our political opponents, we have to think of them as less than human.  This dehumanization is so virulent to the fabric of our society and, really, to the fabric of our humanity, that it makes it possible for someone to go into a classroom of kindergartners and open fire on small children and their teacher trying to protect them.  

I’ve made some efforts, in recent weeks, to set standards for my political discourse. For instance, I try not to paint with a broad brush.  I try not to accuse people of biases or –isms simply because I disagree with them politically.  I try to call out when I see other people engaging in non-civil discourse.  To me this, more than anything else, is the way we get out of the mess we are in – both politically and in terms of violence. We have to start treating each other like human beings again.  We have to quit thinking that the other side is “evil.”  As Dr. Brown said, if you didn’t like people saying awful things about the Obama girls, don’t be ok with people calling Ivanka names.  

We need to teach our children to work on their empathy.  We need to teach them to come to us, as adults, when they have frustrations and feel like lashing out.  We need to listen to those frustrations and we need to both empathize with those frustrations and give them a roadmap of how to handle those frustrations in productive ways.  We need not go to combat for our children after any and all perceived slights.  We need not call their school or call other parents because our children have faced disappointments.  They need to face those disappointments and they need to learn how to cope with them without blaming others, without dehumanizing others, and without losing their own humanity.

3.  We Need to Be Willing to Talk About Guns Without Going to Our Bunkers

Again, I’m biased against gun ownership.  I don’t like guns, and I’m pretty vocal about my dislike for them.  I don’t like guns because, during my professional career, I have seen some very angry and irrational people who are daily confronted with painful and frustrating court decisions for which they have very little legal recourse.  I don’t like guns because I know the statistics about the number of Americans who are currently addicted to, or use daily, mind-altering substances that have a propensity to cause violence.  I don’t like guns because when I go to your house with my child and I know you have a gun, I have to have an uncomfortable conversation with you about how you have your gun stored to be sure my child is protected while in your home.  But mostly, I don’t like guns because they pose an unnecessary risk to human life.  I carried scissors, blade down, arm outstretched until I was at least 20 years old, so my risk-aversion runs deep.

But I’m also a lawyer, and a strong proponent of the First Amendment, so I’m interested and capable of engaging in civil discourse over the legality of guns and gun-control legislation from both the perspective of someone who abhors firearms and an adherent to the constitution.  I’m also a follower of politics and culture, and I know the capabilities/difficulties of our legislative bodies on having meaningful discussions about these issues.  

When I hear politicians say, “guns don’t kill people, people kill people” or I hear politicians say, “we don’t have a gun problem, we have a cultural problem,” I guess I don’t disagree.  But my question is: “Ok, so what are you doing about that?”  Clearly, the answer is little to nothing.  When I hear gun-control advocates ask for enhanced background checks or bring up the Obama-era Executive Order that Trump helped to repeal in February 2017, I wonder if those people know what they are fighting about.  What kind of enhanced background check?  What Executive Order?  The first issue has myriad answers because myriad states and counties within states enforce background checks differently.  The Executive Order?  It was a decent idea, but not as a broad-brush prohibition.  The Executive Order people have discussed made it so that people who were assigned a Social Security benefits payee (e.g. people who are both judicially and non-judicially thought to be incompetent to handle their financial matters), were added to the NICS background check database automatically, without due process, but were allowed an appeals process.  Even the ACLU was against this Executive Order because it included people whose mental capabilities in no way would make them more likely to be violent, but deprived them of a cognizable constitutional right.  Personally, I don’t mind the original Executive Order because 1) there was an appeals process to be removed from the database, so there was some due process built in; and 2) I don’t like guns anyway.  But I’m willing to engage in the discussion of whether the Executive Order did, in fact, unnecessarily infringe on a constitutionally protected right.  I’d go as far as saying, the designation of a payee should be included in the background check database, but it cannot be the sole grounds for prohibition.  The licensing or permitting agency must make an extra step to investigate the inclusion on the list.   I’m also willing to concede that I haven’t done much scholarly research on the topic and it probably is something that I should defer to experts at the ACLU and in gun-control advocacy groups to fight it out. Or it should be something that is adjudicated by the court system with evidence and research to support both positions.

Regardless, we should be willing to listen, learn and then decide.  Just because someone posts on their facebook wall that we should have reasonable gun control doesn’t mean that person wants the government to come seize your guns.  If you are a gun-rights advocate or, at least, a gun enthusiast, you can’t bunker down and claim we are coming for your arsenal.  Step up to the plate and have a conversation about what controls you’d feel comfortable with to help the rest of society feel safer about gun safety.  How about mandatory gun safety measures in the home such as a lockbox or a gun safe? How about background checks that MUST use the NICS database?  How about shortening the length of time a purchasing permit is effective so that people have to get rechecked more often than the 5 year limit in states like North Carolina?  How about liability insurance?

And if you want to discuss armed guards and enhanced security in our schools and public spaces, we have to discuss funding those measures.  Our teachers are already responsible for purchasing many of their own supplies and have lost the tax deduction for those purchases in the most recent tax bill.  How will we pay for metal detectors and security personnel at each school entrance? How will we pay to enclose breezeways to limit incoming traffic at schools to one or two entrances?  

The arguments I hear against gun control measures is that anything we do wouldn’t have had an impact on X shooting.  It may have helped in one shooting, but it’s not going to help in another with a different set of facts.  What’s missing in this argument is that any number of lives we can save by doing something is better than saving none by doing nothing.  We have to talk about these issues and we have to be civil about it. I promise not to suggest a repeal of the Second Amendment or a mandatory buy-back program if you promise to tell me which individuals you are ok with not having firearms.  And we both need to be very specific.  

Lawyers like words.  We like to use them against each other, we like to find loopholes and we like to argue that we can’t come to a solution unless we are agreeing upon a set language. Gun control debates always lack specificity.  Polling shows that 90+% of Americans support enhanced background checks, but that’s because 90+% of Americans have never agreed upon what an enhanced background check would entail.  I’d love it if our background check process was similar to the process that parents go through when trying to adopt a child, with home visits and everything, but that’s wildly unrealistic and burdensome on both our government and people’s Second Amendment rights.  So let’s discuss what we can agree upon instead of bunkering down.  

And gun control advocates need to quit having the attention span of gnats.  If you want gun control laws to be passed after a mass shooting, you need to come to the table on that issue in 3-4 months when the law is in the process of being written.  It can’t always be knee-jerk in reaction to a tragedy.  Gun owners are, typically, gun owners 365 days out of the year.  I imagine that it’s pretty annoying that 9 months out of the year, off and on, they can exercise their right to own guns without any debate at all.  And then 3 months out of the year, they are on constant defense because someone has abused the right to own a gun.  If you want something done about gun control, we all have to come to the table with our thoughts 365 days out of the year.  We cannot forget we care about this issue when the news agencies start reporting on Trump’s next Russia tweet.

So in short: teach your kids, directly and by example, about humility, humanity, empathy, listening, learning, and empathizing.  Teach them about resilience and about hanging in there with our fellow Americans even when things get tough.  Do these things and we may actually be able to accomplish something.

[taeboos]

paper cranes; kim taehyung

⇢ genre: god!taehyung au - angst/fluff ⇢ synopsis: you and your best friend taehyung always dreamed of staying together forever. you both folded paper cranes in order for your wish to be granted. however, it is cut short when taehyung is killed in a car crash. your life makes a turn when nine years later, at age 18, you get caught up with a minor-god who is searching for answers to his past life. 

“If you had to wish for one thing, what would it be?”  “I already told you, I don’t believe in wishes.” 

⇢ word count: 6k

Disclaimer: I do not know much about the Japanese legends about folding a 1,000 paper cranes, but I did some research. I just used that idea and made something out of it. I hope you enjoy the story! 

0 You always believed in miracles. You believed that if you wished hard enough for something, that someday, maybe, something would change, it would happen. You often played with your best friend Taehyung who lived across the street from you. Taehyung loved going on adventures, ones that always left you panting and kept you on your toes. He always believed in miracles. Just like you did.

          “Hey (Name)!” Taehyung called out to you one morning, while you were both out hunting for sticks and stones in a nearby forest to aid you in your adventures. You ran over to him, your glistening locks swaying in your high ponytail.

          “Yeah,” you asked. “Did you find the special rock you were looking for?”

          “Nah, I just thought of something.” Taehyung sat some of his rocks down beside him in a pile and brushed the soot off his hands on his khaki shorts. “I read something the other day, about this Japanese legend or something like that.”

          “A Japanese legend?”

          “Yeah, and basically, it says that if you fold a thousand origami cranes, you will be granted a wish,” he said. His face was elated, showing his trademark box smile. He was missing his two front teeth, but that didn’t make it any less charming.

          “So,” you drawled out, “do you wanna fold that many? I mean, paper cranes?”

          “Why not?” He shrugged, picking up his stones again placing them in a little pouch he made from his T-shirt by folding up the end. “You could do some and I could do some! We could split it, and make a wish together!”

          “What would we wish for,” you asked, placing your chin in the palm of your hand.

          “To be together forever! We could go on adventures until we are billions of years old,” he exclaimed excitedly. You couldn’t help but beam at him, it was truly the best wish.

          Small children like you and him, around the age of seven, believed that there was another force out there, something incredible and beyond human imagination. That something out there, is what granted wishes.

          Or so you believed.

          On the day Taehyung was killed, the weather was perfect. It was a fresh, breezy day in late June. Taehyung was in a deadly accident, and was pulled out of the burning Toyota with a faint pulse.  You wished and you prayed and you wished and you prayed as you sat in the antiseptic smelling waiting room of the local hospital. Face buried in your hands, all you asked for was that the gods or something will grant your one and only wish—to keep your best friend alive and breathing.

          When you received the news that your best friend has passed, you wept for days on end. Despair, rage, and confusion flooded your brain. You were nine.

600

It’s been nearly nine years, and you turned eighteen. You were a winter baby, born during a snowstorm with howling winds and large ice crystals that pelted the hospital windows. This year however was quite the contrast. It wasn’t snowing at all, in fact, it was mildly cold. You could pass with just a mere sweatshirt and jeans.

          Your parents thought that it would be a fantastic idea to take you out for dinner to celebrate you finally turning into an adult. It was great and all, you were thankful, but in all honesty, you just wanted to sleep. You had exams next week and essays to write and you’ve pulled countless all-nighters in the last few days, and for your birthday all you wanted was to relax and take a break. The bustling, clinking of forks against plates, laughter, and chatter just made your head throb.

          You managed through the pain until you finished your meal, which was a delicious chicken alfredo, and closed your eyes to rest them. You thought back to your ninth birthday, when Taehyung called you to wish you a happy birthday and apologized for not being able to go see you, because of the snow. You were talking to him for hours, and that is how you basically spent your entire day. It still remains as your best birthday ever.

          “(Name)?” Your mother’s voice made you perk up.

          “Huh? Yeah?”

          “You alright,” she asked worried.

          “I’m fine, just tired is all,” you said casually.

          “You want to go home,” your father asked.

          “Ah, it’s fine. Are you guys still hungry? There is still dessert.”

          “We’re fine,” your mother chimed in. “We can go home.”

          “I’m going to use the bathroom real quick, I’ll be right back,” you said.

          “Ok, we are going to pay the bill,” your mother responded. You nodded your head and walked towards where the restrooms were. It was super crowded in the restaurant; you had to say “excuse me” every three seconds. That’s when you bumped into something hard.

          “Uh! Sorry!” You looked up to see a very handsome guy, staring at you with wide sparkling deep brown eyes. You felt your face take on a rosy hue, and apologized again. “Um! Really! Sorry! Excuse me…” You walk away from him, but the way he smelled lingered with you, and it made you feel nostalgic—he smelled like pine. Just like that forest you played in all the time.

          You entered the bathroom, and immediately splashed water in your face. That guy, he didn’t even look real. He had a perfect complexion, and his caramel hair was styled nicely. Not only that though, you could feel something different. The way his eyes sparkled, and how he almost glowed seemed like an impossible thing for a simple human to accomplish.

          Not only that, but as soon as you hit that man, you almost felt sort of a jolt of electricity run through you at lighting speed. You were surprised you didn’t react much as you would expect yourself to, but it really creeped you out.

          “Ugh! How embarrassing…” you groaned. You dried your face, and thought again about the encounter. It was brief, but you couldn’t make it leave your mind.

          You stepped out of the bathroom, and only walked a few steps before you felt someone grab you by the wrist. You gasped, ready to yelp, but you saw that it was the same man as before. When he saw your scared eyes he immediately let go.

          He cleared his throat, “Ah, I’m sorry I scared you.” He held up his hands in defense, a small grin plastered on his face. “I just felt bad…I didn’t apologize to you about getting in your way earlier.”

          You waved your hands frantically. “Oh! No no, it was my fault, I should have watched where I was going,” you gave a nervous laugh. The boy nodded like he understood, but his eyes still looked apologetic.

          “Still, I didn’t even say anything. It was very rude for me to just stare at you,” he chuckled rubbing the back of neck with his hand. “I just wanted to apologize, that’s all.”  

          You nodded. “Well, I should get going.” You pointed with your thumb towards the entrance. “My parents are probably waiting for me in the car by now,”

          He offered a small smile and wave, and you gave one back as you turned on your heel and walked away.

          As soon as you arrived home, you went straight to bed. You didn’t even feel the urge to change clothes or anything; your head hit the pillow and it was lights out for you.

          You think you woke up again around two o’clock in the morning; you blamed it on the thought that you had to use the bathroom. You went and done what was needed, and when you came back to your room a familiar face was there to greet you.

          “What the fu—!“ You were about to yell, but a hand clamped itself over your mouth.

          “Please don’t scream,” the velvety voice begged. You took a good look at him, well as much as you could in the moonlight pouring through the white blinds, and your eyes grew wide. It was the same guy you bumped into at the restaurant. You were weary not to wake up your parents, so you nodded your head as a promise not to yell.

          “What the actual fuck are you doing in my room,” you quietly screamed. “I’m going to call the cops,” you reached for your phone that was on your bedside table, but he was quicker.

          “That….won’t be necessary,” he nervously said as he took the phone and hid it behind his back. Before you could open your mouth he spoke again, “I came here to tell you something.”

          “So you found out where I lived and broke into my fucking house?!” You shouted this time, not caring about waking up the entire neighborhood. “Who the fuck are you? Get out now,” you warned.

          “I don’t—“ he cut off when the door to your room opened to reveal your mother with tired eyes in her pastel pink robe.

          “(Name)? What’s going on?” She flipped on the light switch.

          “Mom! Thank god, this psychopath just broke into the house! Call the cops,” you shouted frantically. Your mother only blinked at you.

          “(Name), is this some sort of joke?” Her face turned from worried to annoyed.

          “What are you talking about, this guy!” You pointed at the mysterious man, but all he did was stand there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets whilst biting his lip. You only received a look from your mother as if you were crazy. “Don’t you see him?!” You pointed viciously at the guy. “He’s wearing ripped black jeans, a blue and white checkered button-up shirt—“

          “(Name), I think you should go to bed before you wake up the neighbors.”

          “You’ve gotta be kidding me—“

          “Go to bed,” your mother said sternly before shutting the light off and shutting the door.

          You slapped a hand on your forehead and spun around to face him. You strutted up to him and pointed an accusing finger at his face. “Why can’t my mother see you,” you hissed.

          “I’m a minor god,” he said matter-of-fact like. Your blank expression made him scratch his head and try again. “Well, I’m a god, but like, not really. I was a human once, but I don’t remember anything about my previous life, not even my name.”

          “Okay,” you drawled out, not exactly sure whether to believe him or not. You weren’t even sure anymore. “Let’s say all you are telling me is true. What do I call you then if you don’t remember your name?”

          “Ah, um…” he perked up like he had an idea, and then slumped down again, lips pursed in a pout. “I don’t know. Whatever you deem suitable,”

          “You’re not making this easy,” you said irritated. He shrugged his shoulders.

          “Just call me Jack then,” he suggested. “I always liked that name,” he paused. “What about you?”

          “(Name). Also, okay, Jack, why exactly are you here? And If my mother can’t see you, why can I?” You threw questions at him left and right and he seemed to have trouble keeping up.

          “Uh, well, as to why I’m here, I’m not sure. I just felt like I needed to be.”

          “That makes no sense,” you say dully.

          “I know everything sounds completely ridiculous, but, ever since I bumped into you, I’ve been feeling weird.”

          “Well, gee thanks.” The sarcasm dripped from your tongue.

          “Like, I feel like you might have something to do with my past life,” he rushed out.

          You huffed, “You’re insane. I can’t even believe that I’m talking to you. What the hell am I thinking? A god?”

          “A minor-god,” he corrected.

          “Whatever. In any case, I’m going to bed.” You flop down on your bed which made a loud creaking sound under your weight. “Hopefully I’ll wake up from this crazy dream,” you mumble into your fluffy pillow.

          “Hey,” he called out. “What’s this?” He pointed dangerously close to a string that connected paper cranes. The cranes that you and Taehyung started, but never finished. You immediately shot up in bed.

          “Don’t touch that,” you seethed. His finger jerked back.

          “Sorry,” he mumbled. Seeing his apologetic face made you feel slightly bad.

          “No, it’s fine,” you sighed. “It’s just kind of important to me,”

          “May I ask why,” he cautiously asked.

          You let out a lengthy breath, “Me and my best friend made those when we were young. We had this dream of making a wish together once we folded a thousand of them.” You paused. “But he was killed in a car crash before we got to finish all of them, we only made around 600.”

          “Are you going to finish them?”

          “No. It’s not the same without him. Plus, I don’t believe in wishes anymore. I prayed and wished so hard that he would live, but nothing happened. He was a lot braver than me, had a lot more passion than me, everything about him glowed. If the gods couldn’t see that, why should I pray to them?” Your tone became very solemn, and you shook your head and muttered, “I’m going to bed.”

          The loud buzzing of your nightstand alarm clock is what woke you up in the morning. You slammed your hand down on the button to stop that dreadful noise, and rubbed your eyes. You blinked through your blurred morning vision to look at the time. Six o’clock. You groaned remembering that you had school that day, and peeled the bedsheets off you.

          You got up and flipped on your light switch. You suddenly recalled last night. It was a dream, right? You rubbed more sleep out of your eyes and when you opened them again they landed on something. Sitting on your wooden dresser across from your bed sat a paper crane. You furrowed your eyebrows and walked towards it.

          You picked it up and you saw that there was a note underneath written in scrawled handwriting.

I’m sorry about your friend. You should start up folding these again. The gods do exist. There had to be a reason it happened. I folded one for you as a start-up. You shouldn’t give up so easily.

-Jack

         Your heart rate sped up and your face felt inflamed. Firstly, apparently, Jack wasn’t a dream. Secondly, who did he think he was? Was this some sort of insensitive sick joke? Anger boiled your insides, and you crushed the paper crane in a fist.

         You finished getting ready for school, and shoved your normal breakfast of a bowl of Cheerios down your throat hastily. Your mother was in the middle of making coffee when you threw your backpack on your shoulder. “I’m heading out,” you told your mom.

          “Alright, have a good day,” she said. It was odd you thought. She didn’t bring up anything about last night. As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. You glanced at your mom, but it was as if she didn’t hear it.

          You opened the door to see a goofy box smile. For some reason, you weren’t even surprised anymore. You stepped outside and closed the door. As soon as you were alone with him you shot him a razor-sharp glare. “You need to stay out of my business and leave me alone. And don’t bring up the paper cranes again. I’d rather not think about it. Also, stop following me, it’s creepy as hell.” You shoved your way past him and jingled the car keys in your hand.

         “I can’t.”

         “What do mean you can’t?”

         “I just can’t. It’s like I’m being drawn to you. Maybe that’s why you can see me.”

         You ignored him and opened your car door as soon as you got in, you shut it.

         “I’m sorry but you are just going to have to deal with me.” His voice was coming from right next to you in the passenger seat.

         “What the hell! You have transportation powers too?”

         He shrugged again. “I still think you need to start up those paper cranes again.”

         “Who are you to say that,” you snapped.

         “I’m a minor-god, I feel these things. Also, if you fold those cranes, I’ll grant you your wish. Whatever it is that you want. The thousand paper cranes, will be like an offering, and I’ll answer one of your prayers.”

         You drove in silence. You weren’t sure how to respond. “I don’t know,” you murmured. “It’s just, I can’t bring myself to.”

         “I think that you can,” he said. “It’s been what? How long now?”

         “It’s been nine years. Not that it matters. I still get nightmares sometimes. Like that day was just yesterday.”

         Jack nodded like he understood. “If you had one wish, what would you wish for? Theoretically, I mean, if you folded that many paper cranes.”

         You bit your lip. “I already told you, I don’t believe in wishes.” You paused. “Theoretically though, I would want my friend alive again.”

You were walking out of the school with your best friend at your side, laughing and giggling about the time you went to a concert together to see your favorite band. It was all cut short when your friend, Erika, a beautiful Filipino girl with gorgeous tan skin, nudged you in your rib.

        “(Name), look who it is,” she said giggling, pointing to your car. “He’s leaning on your car as if he’s waiting for you to show up,” she smiles while wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

        Your eyes slide over to your car and see your friend, Min Yoongi, leaning on your car. You scratched the side of your head. “Erika, he’s only a friend. I promised I’d give him a ride home,” you reasoned. All she did was raise an eyebrow.

        “A very hot friend.”

        You winced, “Please.” You shoved your hands in your sweatshirt pocket and waved bye to Erika before strutting over to your car where Yoongi was.

        “What’s up,” you asked casually. “You ready?” He nodded his head and mumbled a yeah before sliding into the passenger seat.

        You started the car, and started pulling out of the parking spot when, “You know, I’m still here,” Jack said in a sing-song voice from the backseat. It startled you so much that you slammed on your break.

        “Jesus Christ,” you fumed. You glanced at the rearview mirror to see Jack sitting in the backseat, with a smug grin on his face.

        “(Name), what’s wrong,” Yoongi asked, worried. You looked back at the mirror to see Jack do a shrug, still with that giddy smile.

        You grunted. “It’s nothing, I just thought I heard something.” You glared at Jack one more time before turning your eyes back on the road.

        “Is this your boyfriend,” Jack asked. You ignored him. You didn’t need anyone else thinking you were crazy. Who knows, maybe you were.

        Jack wouldn’t shut up the whole way. Asking questions and making obnoxious sounds. I can’t believe he is a “god”.

        You dropped Yoongi off, and Jack squirmed up into the passenger seat from the back.

        “You know what, Jack, I’m really starting to get tired of your ass.” You exhaled as you backed out of Yoongi’s driveway.

        “But you just met me,” he exclaimed, a hand on his chest in mock offense. “You know what, I didn’t think you were that bad, but that was just plain rude.”

        “Well I’m sorry I offended you, Mr. Show-Up-In-My-Room-In-The-Middle-Of-The-Night!”

        “Hey, hey, hey….I couldn’t help that.”

        “Whatever.”

650

        It’s like having a leech on your back. At least that’s how you would describe it. Everywhere you looked, Jack was there. It was starting to piss you off.

Jack had been in your life for a week now, and you had both managed to fold a whooping 50 paper cranes since he persuaded you to start it up again.

        Right then, Jack was sitting on the other end of the couch away from you, as you both watched Naruto. You were both watching the latest episode. Jack’s eyes were glued to the screen, while mindlessly shoving handfuls of popcorn into his mouth from the bowl that sat between you two.

        “I didn’t know you could eat human food if you are a god,” you scowled at him, and he looked back at you with a blank expression and a mouthful of popcorn. You rolled your eyes and looked back at the screen.

        Jack swallowed and replied, “There is a lot of things you don’t know about gods.”

        “Apparently not,” you said dully as you turned up the volume with the remote.

        Jack changed the subject, “I don’t understand why Sasuke thinks he can just waltz up and proclaim he is going to be Hokage, like Sasuke, go home you’re drunk.”

        You shrug, “I’m not even surprised anymore. To be honest, Sasuke is just a huge emo crybaby with a rough exterior.”

        “True.”

        The episode ended, your mother walked into the living room where you two sat. She flicked on the lights and you glared at her. “You nearly blinded me, Mother.” You rubbed your eyes trying to get used to the brightness.

        “Who were you talking to, (Name)?” Your mother looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

        You open your mouth to form a response, but Jack decided to make a derp face at you just then, and you let out a small giggle but immediately shut your mouth as you turned your face back to your mother. You busted out laughing again because there Jack was magically, making bunny ears behind your mother.

        Your mother just stared at you waiting for a response but all you could do was laugh. “I-I’m sorry, it’s j-just!” You giggled again but tried to maintain your composure by closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “I was just talking to myself that’s all,”

        “Okay…” your mother drawled out slowly, looking at you like you were a complete lunatic. You couldn’t blame her. After she left, you walked over to Jack who had a smug grin plastered on his face and punched him square in the shoulder.

        “Why did you do that?! Now my mom thinks I’m even more of a nut-job,” you yelled softly. Jack chuckled and stretched his arms behind his neck.

        “Oh well, but I did get to realize one thing,” Jack said.

        “Oh? And that thing is?”

        “You actually can be cute sometimes,” he smiled

.         Your face became dusted with a soft rose color. “What is that supposed to mean!? Sometimes?!”

        “I’m kidding,” he said as he pinched your hot cheeks. “You’re always cute.” Your face became hotter than it was before and he laughed at how flustered you were. “See? There it is. Cute.”

        “Shut up!”

700

        “For the last time, you are not sleeping next to me.” You stared at Jack from the comfort of lying underneath the covers on your bed. He stood at the foot of the bed, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes.

        “Do gods even need to sleep?”

        “Of course they do! They have huge responsibilities! They need rest too!”

        “Then what is your ‘huge responsibility’?”

        “To grant wishes of those who need them granted.”

        “That’s cute.”

        He narrowed his eyes at you. “Says the one who wants a wish granted.”

        “It’s a wish that is not realistic,” you shouted. You raised your voice more than you intended. “Not even a god can bring back the dead,” you murmured.

        Jack let out a deep breath, with his eyes sad.

        “Don’t look at me like that.”

        “Tell me more about him.”

        You looked at him, and you could tell he was serious. You swallowed and licked your lips and sat up. “His name was Taehyung,” you started. “He was adventurous and always had a smile on his face. He always looked on the bright side of things, and I never saw him cry. I sometimes wonder if he was hurting for some reason on the inside.” You felt tears blur your vision but you blinked them away before they fell. “His parents were druggies, I knew he didn’t have the best home life, yet he always smiled.” You became lost in your thoughts of him, but Jack never interrupted. “He was just…light.” You lifted your hands up and dropped them, not being able to think of any other way to describe him.

        Jack nodded. He then walked over and sat down next to you. He used the side of his finger and wiped away a hot tear from your cheek. You didn’t even know that it had fallen. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” his voice was low, and his eyes were completely different than what you were used to seeing. It was as if he placed his playful side to the side and now he was only looking at you with worry.

        You look away from him. “It’s fine,” you whispered.

        “I don’t know why, but when you spoke of him, I could feel something stirring in me.”

        You looked up at him, and you were then fully aware of his hand resting on your cheek, and you subconsciously leaned into it.

        “You and me both have something in common,” his voice was very solemn. It was velvety and smooth all the same.

        “Yeah?”

        “As I’ve told you, I lost my memories of my past life,” he said.

        You nod, “I remember you telling me.”

        “It sucks. You don’t have any idea of who you were before, it’s like you have to start completely over. Who was part of my life? Who did I love? Did I have a family? Does anyone miss me right now?” His hand left your face, and he leaned away. He stared at your blank white ceiling, and closed his eyes.

        “They miss you,” you told him. He opened one eye and looked at you.

        “What makes you so sure?”

        “You are someone who people would miss. And I hate to say it but I’ve gotten used to you. I’d feel empty if you left now. And I only knew you for a few weeks now.”

        A cocky smile formed on his lips. “Now that’s a compliment I could receive every day.”

        “Don’t get used to it,” you say. He chuckled and ruffled your hair.

        “Can I sleep next to you then?”

        “NO,” you said. You flopped down on your back and pulled your covers up to your chin. “You get the floor.”

        “But I can’t sleep unless I cuddle with something.” He pouted as he slowly laid down on the floor next to your side of the bed. “Please~” he sang.

You chucked an extra pillow from your bed at him. “Cuddle that,” you said harshly.

“Not cute at all,” he pouted.

“Well sorry I don’t have any body pillows with hot girls on them,” you snapped.

“I was talking about you.”

“Shut up and go to sleep, asshole.”

756

        You sat criss-crossed on the floor of your room. Jack sat adjacent from you, and a pile of multi-colored paper cranes sat between you and him. As you folded each paper crane, Taehyung’s small face appeared in your memories. You wondered if he was watching over you right now, if he was happy that you were continuing what you both left behind.

         You tossed another finished paper crane into the pile and took another sheet of origami paper. “Jack,” you started, “do you think that it was fate that brought us together that day?” You didn’t look at him, your eyes were focused on your fingers that folded and played with the blue colored paper in your hands.

        “Maybe,” he said. “I’ve granted many of other people’s wishes before, but this is the first time that I can’t leave their side.”       

        “That’s weird,” you said. You finished the blue crane and held it up to your eyes to examine it. “It’s funny that these paper cranes can have such an emotional effect on me,” you laughed nervously. “It’s like I want to cry every time I look at these little things. I can’t believe I still haven’t been able to get over his death—it’s been nine years. I need to get over myself.” You rubbed your face with your hands and stood up from your position.

        “(Name)…” Jack stood up and took a step towards you, but you held up your hand to keep him from coming closer.

        “No. Stop.” You closed your eyes and tried to gather your thoughts. “It’s been great thinking that I could have a chance to change something, but I’m tired of feeling sad all the time. Can’t you see that I’m hurting inside by merely folding these things?

        “You are just giving me false hope, thinking that I could somehow bring my best friend back. Let’s face it, Jack, you can’t bring back Taehyung, even with your ‘god-like’ powers.” Your voice was rising now, and you didn’t know how to stop it. “I’m tired of pretending that wishes come true! It doesn’t work that way!”

       Jack stood there silently as you lashed out at him. You continued throwing harsh words at him, as if it was his fault that you were feeling this way. He brought up your pain that you’ve been holding in for those nine years and you hated it.

       Arms wrapped around you in a soft embrace, and his hand came up behind your head and pressed you against him as you wailed. All you could do was become undone, and maybe that’s exactly what you needed.

      Jack didn’t say anything, he just held you there, as if he was holding onto something that would fall apart in his arms and slip out of his grasp. He kissed your hairline, and held you tighter.

        You felt arms still wrapped around you as you awoke from your nap. It seemed that you cried yourself to sleep. Jack had his eyes still closed and his breathing was steady, rhythmic. You found yourself staring at him, his features, the way his caramel blonde fringe sat on the bridge of his nose, then listened to way his breath sounded.

        It was soothing, listening to him breathe. Your eyes trailed back to his face and his tanned skin that was radiant in the soft glow of the orange sunset that streamed through the blinds from a nearby window. You slept longer than you intended. You slowly placed a hand on his cheek and ever so softly, brushed his skin in fear of waking him.     

       His right eye then opened slightly to form a slit. You jerked your hand back quickly and your heart thumped loudly in your chest. He was peering at you, and soon a small smile tugged at his lips. “Like what you see,” he teased in a deep groggy voice.

       “As if.” You stood up quickly and turned your back to him, hiding the blush that spread from your cheeks to the tips of your ears.

        He laughed and stretched his arms up over his head. You suddenly were embarrassed, not of what just happened, but because of the emotional episode that you had.

       “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “For…freaking out like that before.”

       “It’s fine, you don’t need to apologize for that. It was understandable.”

       “But still.”

       Jack held a finger to his lips, shushing you. You sat down next to the pile of paper cranes on the floor. You silently picked up another piece of paper and started folding another paper crane. Jack stared at you with a slightly curved smile on his lips. “Do you want to continue?”

       “I have nothing to lose, do I?”

1000

       You and Jack had pulled an all-nighter folding paper cranes while taking breaks in one-hour intervals to watch an episode of Naruto together. You folded the last one just as dawn broke. You and Jack smiled at each other.

       Together you and him strung together all of the paper cranes to form one large ornament. You breathed out in a sigh of relief. “It’s….finished.”

       “Yeah,” Jack nodded. “It is.” You took the ornament in your hand and gave it to Jack.

       “Here is your offering,” you said with a small grin on your face.

       Jack took it in his hands, and said, “Whatever it is that you wish, I will grant it.”

       You stood across from him, and you took one long look at him. “I think I know what I want to wish.”

       Jack nodded his head to urge you to go on. “Remember, once you speak the wish, it can’t be returned.”

       “I understand.” You closed your eyes, and you opened your mouth, “I wish for you to have your memories back, Jack.”

       His eyes suddenly widened. “(Name)—“

       The paper cranes in his hand glowed a light that could easily be compared to a heavenly fire, and disintegrated into a thousand shimmering orbs. You blinked your eyes at the radiant light that they emitted.

       You squinted through the shining light and noticed that the orbs had moving pictures in them. You could see yourself in them, but you were a child. You were with…Taehyung. “Taehyung? Why is he—“

       You looked back at Jack who was entranced by the glowing orbs, watching the moments of his past life that flickered in the orbs that floated around him. You watched in awe, as each floating bubble maneuvered its way to Jack, and was absorbed into his body.

       He began to glow himself, and his fingertips began to fall away into stardust. “T-Taehyung!” You run over to him and throw your arms around your best friend, the one you loved, the one you wanted so dearly to return.

       Taehyung took his hands and placed them on your cheeks. “(Name)…I don’t have much time.” His voice was wavering and his eyes had a glimmer of tears, as he spoke somberly. “I won’t be able stay here with you.”

       “What? No..no you can’t leave…” Your voice was barely audible, your throat was tight, trying to hold back hot tears.

       “The gods weren’t expecting this to happen…I wasn’t supposed to learn of my past, so I have to disappear, and no one, not even you, will remember me once this is over.”

       “I’ll always remember you–! I…I love you! Taehyung, please…”

       “(Name)…” As each second passed, more and more of him started to disappear into glittering dust. “I’m so blessed to see you again,” he whispered.

       Taehyung kissed you softly on your lips, sending electricity through your core. “I’m sorry our wish couldn’t come true.”streamed down your cheeks now as you tried pleading with the gods once more, please don’t take him away.

       “I love you, (Name).” Taehyung kissed your cheek and your neck once more. “I’m sorry

       You blinked, and he was gone.

       And so were you.

1  

       You awoke to your alarm. It’s blasting never ceased to annoy the crap out of you. You groggily sat up in your bed, and checked the time. 6:54 AM. It was your birthday. You were finally eighteen, but unfortunately even school doesn’t take a break for something like that.

       You quickly got dressed and washed your face. When you returned to your room, something caught your eye.

       A single white paper crane sat on the carpeted floor of your room. You picked it up, and wondered where it came from. Just then, your mother called you. “(Name)! Come down, you’re gonna be late!”

       You took one more look at the crane before tossing it onto your wooden dresser.

           “I’m coming, Mom!”

thank you @5years-of-5sauces for helping me edit! <3

[flyingcatstiel]

1. Hello again, I am the same anon who sent both of your latest two anonasks. I think there was some confusion so I'll clarify. I don't even ship stony(I've only read handfuls of fics), I ship destiel and I like all mcu characters equally and I am not team cap nor iron but I am a bitter cas girl. There was NO intention to bring any wank or ships/characters bashing to your blog. I was just so angry with 'we are' and your answer to the first ask got me thinking about stony.

2. But my ask was poorly and inadequately worded to confuse you of the ulterior intention and I apologize. Though I shouldn’t have use the ship names when I meant their general relationship both in canon and fanon, what I meant was in regard to the same situation, which is their mother’s deaths, Tony actually drew blood and all Dean did was say some words,

3. so one might think that actual physical conflicts not induced by any supernatural event indicate bad relationship but I feel Dean and Cas’s friendship and general relationship more unhealthy and unbalanced.

4. Now I just decided for my self that that’s probably because Tony and Steve has different visions, families, groups of friends and support system so even if there is conflict between them, Tony still got Pepper Rhodey and Happy and Steve got Bucky Nat and Sam.

5. So no one is left alone in the world. But if Dean’s angry with Cas, Cas is alone in the universe. I meant unhealthy like that. Cas has no one except Winchester families and if that makes Cas desperate for sense of belong and makes him apologize like that, that imao is unhealthy. But all in all, I am sorry for the confusion. I shouldn’t have been so blunt and out of the blue. Post 1502 made me go blind with unreasonable fury.

6. On a different note it’s interesting how wording and context make differences between being perceived as wank baiting anon hate or anon thanks. And I hope that this message is accepted as the latter because I am always grateful of all your reasonable words about Spn and fandom fruits. :) thanks for reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heey, sorry for total misunderstanding with the previous ask and thank you for coming back and clarifying it! And yes, I’m kinda jumpy lately, since couple of my spn critical posts were hijacked by destiel haters and also earned me the blocking from destiel positivity crowd. That’s the fandom we have and that is one huge reason why I’m slowly sauntering into MCU fandom. To be brutally honest, that’s my advice to all bitter Cas girls - get out before you get too frustrated and hurt. The show will continue Cas whump because they don’t know what else to do, and destiel metas will spend all their energy justifying it. Instead of, you know, just saying that bad writing is bad writing. You can always come and vent in my inbox or via DM tho, I’ll try to answer as much as I can, because I feel you. 

OK, very quickly about CW movie and Tony’s anger vs Dean’s anger. I don’t think Tony’s situation is comparable at all here. Tony learns about Bucky killing his parents on Hydra’s orders after a long chain of very intense conflicts. That was literally the last drop, there’s little time to process it, and it is the culmination of the movie. On the other side, Dean and Cas conflict is never the centerpiece of SPN, it’s all subtext and Dean’s POV. Dean blaming Cas for Mary’s accidental death comes absolutely out of nowhere. They all knew that Jack is using his soul to do stuff, they all knew Jack needs supervision. FFS, Jack just brought Sam back from dead by using his soul. And now Cas is to blame for it? Not to mention that Dean and Cas relationship is way more complicated than MCU stony. Even if we take out romantic destiel subtext out of it, textually, Cas still is the closest person to Dean after Sam. Dean has called Cas his family, his brother several times. Dean grieved Cas in s13. And now, suddenly, it all means nothing because Dean is angry? Unpopular opinion about SPN writers under the cut.

I said it already back then and I still stand by my words - Berens wrote the line “You are dead to me” deliberately to yank the fandom. There are plenty of other words he could have used if he simply wanted to show Dean’s grief and uncontrollable anger towards Cas. Instead, SPN focused on one thing that would hurt the most and then used it in the promo. I literally saw post on my dash saying that OP was not gonna watch the episode because SPN is just meh, but, after seeing that promo, OP wanted to know why Dean said something so hideous to Cas. Remember how fans hoped that it’s a misleading promo? Remember how fans hoped that Dean will apologize to Cas? There’s an understanding that that line was too much. And, after s14 finale, I saw posts talking about how this is not relevant anymore because surely Jack’s death and Chuck’s machinations override whatever anger Dean could have towards Cas for not telling him about snake. And then 15x01 brought us that passive aggressive scene and, well, 15x02 took the cake. 

So, while I totally agree with you that the scene between Dean and Cas was terrible, my way of dealing with it is to blame SPN writers. First of all, I don’t understand what Dean is talking about there. Nothing was real? Does he mean some kind of Matrix type of reality where the real Dean is sleeping in a pod? Otherwise, it was all real. Tell Kevin Tran that his death and time after death was not real. Tell it to Jo, Charlie, Eileen that their deaths were not real. Cas speech is nice, but, honestly, not a groundbreaking revelation. Whedon’s Angel said it wittier, Dumbledore and Gandalf said it more fitting for their stories. There’s a Jewish proverb with similar sentiment. Like, this is nothing new! Our choices matter, sometimes it is the only thing that matters. I mean, everyone who has lived under authoritarian regimes, everyone who’s a minority and has to deal with privileged majority, knows this. To make Dean to refuse it in s15, is honestly very baffling. 

Like, I see that SPN writers want to draw some parallels with s4 by flipping Dean and Cas beliefs, but, scene subversion works only if you know why the first scene worked in the first place. I think this scene would have worked better if Dean would be just venting his understandable frustration with the situation. But instead, we got Cas apologizing, Dean still blaming Cas for Mary’s death (seriously wtf?) and then Dean walking out on Cas and refusing Cas’ belief in their choices being real. 

And here I come to my last point. Dean saying that their choices were not real because Chuck manipulated everything sounds very much like privileged middle class white people suddenly realizing that they are not calling the shots and then throwing into a towel. This really looks like the most “profound” revelation Bucklemming could’ve come up with. They gave similar moronic lines to Cas in 9x03, when Cas, former angel who watched humanity for thousand of years, was surprised that poor people are kind and generous. 

So, to me it looks like SPN writers are trying to be deep but in the end they write what they know best - angry white man is always right trope and le omg, if I’m not the center of the universe then everything was not real story. Which sucks, tbh. And clashes with older seasons of SPN. But here we are. And, since the conflict between Dean and Cas is based on such a weak argument, there can’t be real resolution, catharsis and growth. The current conflict serves only one purpose - to keep Cas and Dean on bad terms and to make Cas leave (because Misha’s contract something something). My worst fear - this stupid conflict will set Cas on self destructive/sacrificial path, and that will be it. Because let’s be serious, destiel is not the most important thing in s15. It’s just not. 

[accio-infinity-stone]

The Sunrise Part 2 (Sirius Black x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Part 1 Part 3

Part 2 Requested By: @impossibletodealwith @susie2710 @lostxghirl @arielizzlewizzle @itswilma

Word Count: 2,630

Warnings: Minor injury, mentions of bullying.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to post. Most people who asked for it probably forgot they requested it…hehe sorry. ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

“Bloody hell, Pads, what are you looking for?” James asked Sirius as he noticed him scanning the crowded hallway yet again. This had been happening a lot recently and as much a Sirius liked to believe, he was not subtle about it and it was piquing the gang’s curiosity. Sirius narrowed his eyes at James and opened his mouth to speak.

“Not what, who.” Remus corrected before he could say anything, making James wiggle his eyebrows at his scowling friend.

“Does our dearest friend finally have a love interest?” He asked, cutting Sirius off once again as Peter nudged him playfully.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sirius said, shrugging his shoulders, acting a little too nonchalant.

“Every time you go anywhere, you take a good long look before turning back to us.” Remus said as they walked into the courtyard for their break and, as Remus said, Sirius subconsciously gave a quick glance around the courtyard before focusing back on the conversation. James, Remus and Peter shared a knowing look.

“It’s true.” Peter chimed. Sirius stuffed his hands into his pockets and kept his head down for lack of a comeback. He couldn’t deny that he’s kept his eyes peeled for a certain head of Y/H/C hair for the past few weeks. You two had been meeting every morning on Wednesdays and, by his insistence, Fridays, but he had yet to see or talk to you during the day. It was as if you just appeared to watch the sunrise and disappeared for classes.

He had actually begun to think that you were one of the castle ghosts and never came out during the day, but he just brushed that off as crazy thought. Hopefully it was crazy thought. It’d be just his luck to have feelings for a dead person. And yes, he had finally admitted to himself that he was feeling deeper emotions than what you should feel for ‘just a friend’. It came as quite a shock to him, he had never felt this way for anyone else. Sure he flirted and…did other things but it was never with any feeling behind it. He just never connected with someone on that level like he did with you and it made him feel a whole bunch of things.

“Who’ve you been looking for?” Remus asked. Sirius debated telling his friends about you but he liked having you and the sunrise to himself, so he decided to keep it a secret. At least until he sorted out his feelings and you and just the whole situation. He also didn’t want to deal with the extensive teasing that was sure to come out of them knowing about it.

“Just this girl, we had a pretty good snogging session last week and I wanted to see if she was up for another round.” Sirius lied and gave the group a cheeky smirk. Peter seemed to accept this and brushed the whole topic off. James and Remus weren’t as convinced, but after a quick look between them, they decided to save the topic for later. Sirius gave a breath of relief as James shrugged casually and Remus started a new conversation.

———

You were turning into the courtyard with your two best friends when you spotted Sirius’ familiar frame and quickly spun around and hid behind a pillar. Your friends gave you a confused look. You just ignored them and gave a quick peek around the corner only to see him still there. You didn’t know what you expected, it’s not as if he would disappear in the space of 2 seconds. Your friends, though still confused, looked amused.

“Care to explain?” Your friend, Dovie, asked.

“He’s there.” You hissed, gesturing behind you. Your friends turned to look and realisation dawned on their faces. Unlike Sirius, you had told your friends about him and how both of you watched the sunrise together (something they had disapproved of but thought was adorable). You had been avoiding him during school hours, not wanting your happy little bubble to burst.

You were also afraid he’d act differently with you outside of your time together. Maybe he’d be embarrassed by you being a Hufflepuff? Or by you being a muggleborn? You had yet to tell him that though. You weren’t ashamed of your parents or how you were born but he did come from a family infamous for their hatred for muggleborns. He was different though, right? After all, he was sorted into Gryffindor and not the signature Slytherin house of the Blacks. He also seemed kinder, though he was snarky, he seemed more…accepting?

“So? I thought you said you didn’t like him?” Your other friend, Annabelle, said. You felt your face grow red.

“I-I don’t” You lied. You very much had some feelings for the troublesome Gryffindor, but you didn’t want to admit it. You knew that your friends disapproved of him as a romantic…interest… and you didn’t blame them. He had a very long list of broken hearts and flings and you knew that he might never actually have sincere romantic affections for anyone but you couldn’t help it. He was just so interesting and funny and annoying and you loved spending time with him (something you would also never admit).

“You can’t.” Dovie said, her face becoming strict. You groaned, you hated it when she became all motherly on you. Both her and Annabelle had a suspicion that you had developed feelings for him and were both worried. They didn’t want you to come out of it with a tear stained face.

“I don’t need a lecture, mum.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“Right. Because you don’t like him.” Dovie said. You nodded your head

“Right.”

“And you don’t wait impatiently for Wednesday and Friday mornings.” Annabelle said.

“Right.”

“And you don’t love it when he playfully teases you.” Dovie said.

“R-right.” You said, a little quieter this time.

“And you don’t love how he seems to be different with you than with anyone else.” Annabelle said, her brows furrowing with sympathy for her obviously lovestruck friend.

“Right.” You mumbled, your eyes focused solely on your feet. You regretted agreeing to all of those things but what could you do? You couldn’t have feelings for Sirius Black, you just couldn’t. Everyone knew it was a stupid thing to like him and whoever did was bound to end up broken hearted, but he made it so easy to fall in love with his playful smirk and genuine smile, with his witty comebacks and moments of kind sincerity.

“So is that why you’re hiding behind a pillar right now, rather that facing him?” Dovie asked. Dovie, unlike Annabelle, was more of the tough love kind of friend, maybe it was the Ravenclaw in her. And as much as you loved her, you did not want that right now. You stayed silent, not knowing what to say and keeping your now sad eyes on the floor.

“Oh, Y/N.” Annabelle said, enveloping you in a tight hug. “It’s ok to have feelings. It’s ok.” She said, rubbing your back comfortingly. “Just - just don’t get your hopes up, ok pumpkin?” You almost smiled at her nickname she used for your and Dovie. She was such an old lady.

“I don’t like him.” You mumbled hopelessly.

“Of course not.” She said, humouring you. “Of course not.”

“Watch out.” Dovie said, breaking up the moment. “Bullies, eleven o’clock.” She nodded her head in the direction of the approaching condescending pureblood Slytherins that loved picking on you and your friends. You and Annabelle were both muggleborn and Dovie was a halfblood so you were easy targets for pureblood obsessed wizards, especially the ones that were coming down the hallway now, they just loved bullying muggleborns.

You and Annabelle quickly separated and the three of you scurried away. You gave the boy that had captured your attention one last longing look before continuing your escape.

———

A few days later, Sirius was creeping into the courtyard at 5 in the morning, lit wand in hand. He had changed into his school robes before sneaking out, not wanting to give you more ammunition about his pyjamas. He felt his heart race in anticipation of seeing you, an almost giddy expression on his face.

You were already there, reading a book, sitting under the same tree he first saw you under a few weeks ago. He stopped moving for a moment, watching how your hair fell into your face and how you blew it away softly, only for it to fall back to the same spot again. As much as he loved talking to you, he could just watch you forever. There was something gentle yet daring about you, how you held your head up high and kept yourself open. You were a light in a sea of darkness and he loved you for it. But he’d push that down, that feeling of grabbing you and kissing the living daylights out of you, for he would not be the one to corrupt the bright light. So friendship would be the place he’d settle for.

He quietly crept up behind the tree you were sitting against and jumped in front of you with a loud “boo!”, making you shriek and drop your book onto your lap. He chuckled as you groaned and slapped his arm.

“Merlin’s bear, Sirius! Don’t do that.” You exclaimed. He smirked as he sat down across from you, running his fingers through his hair (a habit you had noticed and thought quite endearing).

“Loosen up, Huffles.” He joked, making you glare at him.

“I’d really prefer it if you’d call me by my real name.” You said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“But Huffles is just so much more fun to say, Huffles.” He replied, enjoying how you rolled your eyes at him.

“Well, if I have a nickname, shouldn’t you have one too?” You asked, rubbing your chin, pretending to be in deep thought.

“Mr. Attractive?” He suggested, making you snort. “The Great Lord of Hotness?”

“Oh, Merlin, please stop.”

“Sexy? Sir Dreamy?” He kept going, making you laugh uncontrollably.

“What have I unleashed?” You cried out.

“Goooood lookin?” He said, grinning.

“Please stop. What about sloppy?” You suggested.

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating but I’m just going to steer us back to Sir Dreamy.” Sirius said, leaning back on his hands.

“I don’t know how this much arrogance can fit in one body.” You said, shaking your head. “And sloppy fits you perfectly!” You said, gesturing to his shaggy, dark hair, loosely hanging tie and messy uniform. Sirius glanced down at him self and just shrugged. You rolled your eyes at him and tucked a lock of stray hair behind your ear. In that one motion, your uniform sleeve slipped down a little, exposing messily tied bandaging over your wrist. All playfulness disappeared from Sirius’ face. He leaned forwards, a worried look on his face.

“What happened there?” He asked, pointing to your wrist. You, not having noticed your bandages were showing, quickly tugged down your sleeve. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice that.

“Nothing. I - I fell.” You said. That wasn’t a complete lie. You had fallen. Down some stairs as well. It wasn’t your fault though. The same pureblood Slytherins you and your friends had run from the other day had cornered you alone just as you were walking up the stairs. You didn’t want to remember what had happened after that, just that you had ended up with bruises and a cut on your wrist.

“Tell me.” Sirius insisted. You sighed in defeat.

“Remember when I told you I didn’t like bullies?” You mumbled quietly. Sirius’ eyes narrowed dangerously as he nodded. “Well now I’m not overly fond of stairs, as well as bullies.” You waited for him to say something, but he was just sitting there, anger evident on his face. You didn’t even know how angry he was though. The thought that someone hurt you, had caused you to fall down stairs, was enough to get his blood boiling and fingers curling into fists. He tried to tamped down on his anger.

“Who?” He said, his voice deadly quiet. You kept your head down, not wanting to meet the fury in his eyes.

“I - I don’t want to say.” You mumbled.

“What?” He asked incredulously.

“What would you do to them?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He lied.

“Sirius…I don’t want to say.” You whispered.

“How can you not want to say?” He exclaimed, shock and anger building up inside him. “Just so that I don’t hurt them?” You kept quiet, still not meeting his gaze. He released a frustrated groan. “Did you tell anyone?” He asked. You shook your head. “Did you go to the infirmary?” You shook your head again. He suddenly shot up, his hand running through his hair again. You eyes flew up at his sudden movement and watched him pace around frustratedly.

“Sirius -“ You started but was cut off by him.

“Why wouldn’t you tell anyone, Huffles?” He asked, turning on you, making you shrink away from him. “You do realise that this just encourages them to do this more, right?”

“Yes, but -“

“And if you hate bullying so much then why are you protecting them? The people that hurt you? And others most likely.” His voice rising.

“Sirius -“

“Who physically hurt you! Are you too much of a Hufflepuff to get them into trouble? Is that it?”

“No! That’s not it! Merlin’s beard, Sirius, do you not get it?” You exclaimed, standing up yourself to meet him head on. “Do you not get it? I’m not telling anyone about this because I’m scared, Sirius. Ok? I’m scared. I’m scared that it’ll anger them, make them even more aggressive. Do you know how terrifying that is? To always feel threatened and never feel like they would be punished for what they were doing to you?” You almost yelled, shutting him up. He stared at you for a moment, taken aback by your admission. Your hand flew to cover your mouth as you released a sudden sob, tears falling from your eyes. Sirius’ heart broke for you and he felt so guilty for yelling at you, for releasing his anger on you. So so guilty.

“Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry.” He said, rushing towards you and crushing you in a hug. Your eyes went wide with shock. Sirius was hugging you. Sirius Black, the boy that never showed affection, was hugging you. You buried your face into his chest as more tears continued to fall. “I’m sorry.” He repeated. You nodded your head and he pulled you in even tighter if possible, but you didn’t mind. You loved being pressed up against him, being comforted by him. The thought that you couldn’t do this romantically with him prompted even more tears to shed.

“Y/N, you can’t let them get away with this though.” He said, resting his chin on your head and rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Why do you even care?” You asked.

“Because I love you.” He whispered, almost too quietly, but you heard it. You for sure heard it. It had slipped out before he could stop it but he didn’t regret saying it, screw the consequences.

“What?” You asked, eyes wide as you pulled away from him to look him in the eyes.

“I love you, Huffles.” He said fiercely. You stayed silent for a while, a giddy laugh escaping your lips. He loved you. Sirius Black loved you. The boy who you’ve had feelings for for weeks loved you.

“I love you too, sloppy.” You said, smiling as the first rays of sunlight flitted over his shoulder.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

I AM FINALLY DONE. GOOD GOD THAT TOOK FOREVER SORRY. I don’t know why I typed that all in caps lock. Anywho, I uploaded this just in time for Valentines Day (well, where I am anyway). I hope you enjoyed it and I appreciate any feedback you have. Especially on how to characterise Sirius, tips would be helpful.

Constructive criticism is welcome.

K LOVE YOU BYE

[alynna-menagerie]

I have been hearing and reading about the school shootings today, and as usual the same thing comes up, what can we do to stop school shootings in the US?   Well, I have bad news.

Noone can do anything about school shootings in America.  And this is around the time I wish I could talk to minors, because I feel truly sorry for them.

You can say “more gun control”, it won’t work.  You can say “more guards in schools”, it won’t work.  You know why? Because these are attempts to put a bandaid over a stab wound and call it good.   The problem isn’t guns, its not a lack of protection, its because the education system in America stresses our students to the point where this becomes an option for them.

You have kids who are picked on every day for their differences, beat up on a semi-regular basis, not part of the ‘in crowd", etc, and these are just the stressors the other students place on them.  When i read tumblr and listen to teens speak, I can only conclude its worse today than in the 90s.

Then you have teachers with unrealistic expecations, principals who will blame both sides in a fight, people will do nothing to stop the bullying of a student.  You have homework, so the kid doesn’t even get a break from school when they get home..  Then you have the parents who will ground their kids if they don’t get straight As, and punish them.   From all sides there is nothing about being in school that is a positive experience for them unless they are in the “in crowd”, or considered “cool” or whatever it is today.   The majority of today’s kids and teens will find school to be a constant source of stress.

And these are the factors that I can recall from the 90s.   I am sure what todays kids face today is worse, because now they can be bullied by other students on social media.

To be honest, we should be thankful we have as few school shootings as we do.   One must ask, how many students think about shooting up their school, just to find a resolution to bullying, to constant stress to achieve and to do, to simply find a way out of the misery of going there every day?  It’s probably more than we’d like to admit.  And the trend of school shootings is cyclical, the more it happens, the more other students will see it as an option.

The fact that we go around saying “more gun control”, “more guards in schools”, “checkpoints at the doors”, “more ways to report dangerous students”, it shows me that noone cares about the root issue, that going to school in America is regularly traumatic for a sizable portion of its students.  We’ve made getting an education a form of hell for kids and teens just starting to learn how to deal with stressors.

And preparing them for the “world of work” is no excuse.   As an adult, most of us can expect a ‘work-life balance’, but in school, there’s no way for a teen to have a ‘school-life’ balance, as school is thrust upon every day of their pre-adult lives.  Even weekends aren’t really free because there’s certain to be extracurricular activities, or homework, assigned then too.

Noone even sees the root issue.  They think everything is OK with how we try to educate our populace, it isn’t, and hasn’t been for DECADES.   Until America is willing to go from asking “how do we prevent this from happening” to “Why did this happen in the first place”, we’re always going to have kids and teens driven to the brink, and driven to act out in the most horrific ways.   Unfortunately, as an adult with no children, I really have no way of changing this, so to that I say I am truly sorry to, and for, our students, because things probably aren’t going to change.   This is a system primarily driven by parents’ ideas and desires, and those of the politicians they elect, who only know the ways that they were educated and their school experiences.

However I don’t want anyone to say I didn’t have any ideas to try to stop school violence and shootings, so here are some.   These aren’t the typical ones.  Some may even seem crazy because they are outside the talking points that we typically cycle around these times.  Lets look at root issues instead.

1) Eliminate homework.   Almost no job an adult has expects their employees to ‘bring some work home to do’, and the ones that do, we think those employers are completely cray-cray.  When a student goes home, they should be able to expect complete freedom from the stressors of school life.   Teachers, if you are unable to teach your subject in the time alloted for your classes, that’s actually on YOU, not the student.

2) Deal with bullying in a fair and intelligent way.   This means not blaming the victim of bullying for being equally culpable for their situation.  End tolerance for bullying as part of the “growing up” experience.   When you do this, your enabling the bully.   What do you think kids who bully grow up to be, when they are not shown this isn’t ok?   I mean other than President of the US.   Undesirables, who have learned that they can violence their way through situations.

3) For both parents and school administration, treat all fights as school problems, even if they happen off school grounds.  Its not difficult to find out when some kid is about to be beaten up, because news about it is likely to be spread.   Don’t try to put an end to it when you hear it, that won’t work.  Just have some adult show up to it when it happens, to interrupt it, and deal with the parties involved, identifying the bully and victim.

4) Identify and discourage cliques, and the division of students between “cool kids” and “uncool ones”.  Most of us can remember the social ladder and the pressure to climb it and the way you were looked at and treated if you chose not to, or couldn’t succeed.   Countless dramas have resulted from this social ladder and it is a huge distraction from learning and an even greater cause of stress.  Worse, many young ones base their entire self-worth on their position on the ladder/ I don’t know how society implements this, as it goes against human natural tendencies, but society would probably be better off in general without it.

5) I don’t believe in the elimination of grades, as a student needs to have a way to measure their own progress, but pressure to get grades above C just doesn’t help at all.   This is for parents and teachers.  I sucked at Spanish.  I still don’t know Spanish.  Expecting kids and teens to be ‘great at everything’ is an unreasonable expectation that just makes school worse for them.

6) Apply less pressure to engage in extracurricular activities and let kids figure out what they like.  Offer options but don’t apply pressure to take an option.  Some students NEED their free time.   There will be less violence and more learning if students actually enjoy school.

7) Mostly for parents, don’t suggest that “fighting back” as a solution to a bully problem.   Take the issue directly to the school, and teachers/administrators, take it seriously.   The students that do not want to resort to violence to solve a problem, are your future peacemakers, and your bulllies, are your future warmongers.   It is not “weak” to seek an end to violence without reciprocating violence.  People talk about the desire for “world peace” but the inclination for violence is instilled at such an early age in the name of ‘strength’.   Stop it.

TL;DR: If school is a personal hell for the students involved, you can always expect violence.   It just stands to reason, and all the preventative measures in the world won’t help, if you don’t help the students who are being pushed to the breaking point.  I’m not making excuses for school shooters, but I am saying, do you really believe that people are born to inevitably enact school violence, or perhaps it is a product of the things that happen to them?  Consider it.