#like i genuinely feel so bad for simply disappearing from people's lives :c

[deerest-deer]

thinking really hard about logging into my old tumblr acc after being gone for like a year and a half cause i stumbled upon a post that led me to my old mutuals and i teared up a lil </3 but also i feel so ashamed i left without saying a word to anyone aaaa

[juminies]

I agree, things are objectively less hectic in a normal end. You at least somewhat get away from the paparazzi, live your life as a somewhat normal couple, sure. I just think it's important to remember that it is, in fact, the normal end for a reason.

(Read more as I don't want this to get overly long on the dash. I have a lot to say)

I feel like people tend to overlook the fact that the endings are labelled good or bad looking at the long term for the character whose route you're on, not particularly for MC. A lot of the bad endings also result in a bad outcome for MC, that's undeniable, but let's look at V's route for the clearest example of this. In Jihyun's normal ending you get into a relationship immediately and live a normal life as a happy couple. Nothing about this seems particularly bad, and it's not really, not on its own. It makes sense that a player might prefer this ending, because V's good ending would absolutely be harder on the MC. He disappears for two years. She's left missing him; the future uncertain. But... he comes back a better person. In a GE he learns how to be Jihyun again, and he learns how to unabashedly love again without the shadow of Rika over him. It's a good ending because it's the best possible outcome for him. Then, because of his self discovery, it's the best long-term outcome for the MC too.

Let me quickly repeat what I said in a self reblog about Jumin and MC's attachment in a normal end as a foundation here.

Jumin falls into the pattern of neglecting his career because of MC's behaviour in neglecting the party. Her failure to complete her duties was down to her focus on Jumin and their relationship. Jumin sees her prioritising love over completing her tasks and goes Ah, right. That's why they end up working together. Because both of them will simply.. fail to do their job otherwise.

This is genuinely the case. We know because, well,

in a normal end Jumin says that MC "taught [him] that it's much more important to share emotions and love rather than finish [his] tasks." This is not logical, and there's a reason that he only thinks this way if and when the MC is vaguely obsessive; shows him it's the "right" thing to do. He isn't creating a balance! He's indisputably putting love over everything else without entirely thinking it through like his father, and he says it himself. It is his decision to resign, but that doesn't mean it's built on logic and realism – even if it seems like it is in the moment.

Jumin worked hard to get where he is. His job plays an absolutely huge part in his life. MC is the one who plants the idea that none of that really matters, because now he has love. Which is wrong. It is not healthy nor mature to indefatigably prioritise your relationship over your career, especially when you're proud to have spent the better part of a decade building your reputation, and especially when the relationship in question is with someone you met less than two weeks ago. And with no communication regarding the decision, no less! Thankfully it works out somewhat okay in this case, but I still go nooo!!! reading the quote above because it's such a rash choice to make, and one that would probably be very difficult to go back on. (Proposing after less than 2 weeks was also an interesting choice, sure, but at least the MC has a say in that and it doesn't take immediate effect).

In a realistic scenario resigning from C&R would negatively emotionally impact Jumin sooner or later, too. Here's something else I wrote in another post about his NE a couple of months ago:

Jumin would play it off as nonchalantly as he could for as long as he could, but resigning would likely have a big impact on him, especially so suddenly. He works a lot. His job meant a lot to him for a long time, and it was also practically the basis of his relationship with his father.

As well as this, the separation of work and home life is important to Jumin (I recall that he mentions at some point something along the lines of how he doesn't bring work home). Having time to work at the office and time away from that to relax at home is something he needs to keep his life balanced and happy, but it's something he wouldn't have a boundary between in a NE. And I want to emphasise that in a GE he would certainly make sure the life part of work-life balance does not get neglected whatsoever now that he has MC.

Not having that separation is something he'd learn to live with, of course. It's not something he wouldn't–or doesn't–get over. Clearly the mutual obsession dependency isn't detrimental to either Jumin or his MC's wellbeing, because they seem to be doing fine. Like, I'm by no means saying that Jumin is unhappy in a NE. But again, it is a normal end because it's just that. Neutral. They are happy on some level, and everything seems to be working out, but is it the best possible outcome for Jumin?

Jumin's normal ending is actually rather sombre to me, mostly down to the fact he spent so much of his life denouncing his father for allowing women to cloud his vision and have so much influence over him, and then Jumin quits his job on a whim because he deems love more important.

Jumin isn't like Chairman Han, of course. He's no womaniser. He's honest and loyal and beyond in love. But Chairman Han making women–love–his sole priority and neglecting other responsibilities is something Jumin (especially in his route) has, rightfully, been very openly critical about his father doing. It's something that's actively frustrated and upset Jumin his whole life. But, just like that, an MC who ignores her duties because she's too focused on him pulls him into the mindset he's spent so much time resenting. He's already in such a new and vulnerable position with very little legitimate knowledge of what a healthy relationship should look or feel like, and then with her attention on nothing but him? This weird sort of uncomfortable codependency arises. Oh? Perhaps that's just how it should be? It's safer with her constantly by my side. It's more comfortable if we're always in each other's sight. There's no need to put much weight on anything else as long as we have each other.

It's almost as though GE is "we're a team no matter what" where NE is "I cannot and will not function in a room without you in it."

[the-story-of-a-teen]

#mystory

I got inspired by a youtube video, which was a talk by a father that lost his son to suicide. This is what I wish I could tell my parents, when I was a teenager. (I’m 24 now)

If you are suicidal please call the suicide hotline for your country or talk to a mental health professional. TW: This posts discusses suicide, eating disorders, suicidal idealization, religious trauma, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, sexual assault, slut shaming.

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01/01/2010

That was the day I was the closest to killing myself, I wanted to poison myself, cut myself, or access the guns, of which I knew were the keys were and I knew where the ammunition was. The thing that stopped myself was my friend Edward, who you claimed was a devil worshipper, a bad influence, and a ‘hussy’. Edward was the only person who seemed to understand me, who took time to be my friend, and would rant with me about the things we went through. 

I don’t know how many times I tried talking to you over the years, those times when I went “Hey mom, hey dad, can we talk soon?” “Hey mom, hey dad, can I talk to you but you have to promise not to get mad.” “Hey somethings going on.” but every time I did that, you would get angry, get upset, or invalidate my feelings completely. You didn’t even seem to care that I was struggling, even though I made it as obvious as I could as a 13 year old could. Instead of making time to talk to me, you tried to get me to talk on your time/terms, when I wasn’t ready to talk to you about it. This wasn’t the first time you had done this either. I remember as a child I would try and tell you things and you would shush me, we even had a little nonverbal cue to when I wanted to talk to you, I would hold your wrist when I wanted to tell you something, but you would ignore that as well, no matter how long I waited. 

This is why I felt like I could never talk to you about things, you would brush me off as unimportant, you would tell me that without ever saying the words. You didn’t care if I wanted to tell you about something I found interesting, or wanted to ask you if I could go play with my friends. 

This leads me into the next reason, you would never let me out of your sight, let me have anything private, or simply do things by myself. Even if I wanted to go play with my friends on the playground less right outside the building you were in, I needed to ask your permission, tell you exactly who I was playing with, and make sure my friends also had permission (when they didn’t need permission). As I grew older this type of overprotection grew more and more. I had to ask you to play in the drive way or back yard, to have my friend’s parents talk to you when we wanted to have a sleep over, to have food from the fridge, to watch tv, to play pinball on the computer, to read, to do anything I wished to do. You then wondered why I had separation issues, you NEVER let me be alone. When I was 10 or 11 I started keeping a journal. It had a lock on it, and I put the keys in a safe place that I thought was secret. One day the keys disappeared. I had put them back, but still searched through my room and the rest of the house, except your room, because you wanted your privacy. The day after that my journal was different from how I originally put it. I thought it was weird, and hid it somewhere else, but you found that spot too.  You then brought up very private things I had put into my journal as a vent, things I had certainly never told you, and things I swore I had never told anyone else unless they swore on their mother’s grave and promised not to tell. 

You took away my door when I would accidentally slam it when I got emotional, and because you ‘couldn’t trust me to be alone’. You wouldn’t let me hang a curtain or anything so I could change and not have people walk in on me.

When I got old enough to have a cellphone, I caught you sneaking into my room and taking my cellphone, or sitting in my desk chair and going through the messages. You would then interrogate me on my text messages, and would openly take my phone and go through my messages, despite me pleading you not to. This lead to me intentionally setting alarms that would go off through the night, and could only be stopped with a passcode which only I knew.

You would interrogate me any time I wanted to go on the computer to do anything, you forced me to lie to have any sort of freedom to talk to people, look at memes, listen to music, or play games on the computer. You even put parental controls on my computer that would monitor everything and take screen shots, I was allowed exactly 45 minutes a day, which you wouldn’t compromise on, even when I was talking to my friends that lived hours away from us. Then you would get mad when I would trick you into allowing me access so I could change those settings, what else could I do? There was no compromise. Additionally you made me give you every password to every account I ever had, and would get mad when I would change the passwords because you would go through private messages and post on my accounts. Even when I was almost 18, and handed over my computer to show you the receipts, you couldn’t help but go through the whole conversation, even though I told you not to and you promised not to. 

On the xbox you would hack into my account (Which I had a passcode on), and would read through the messages, you would have to approve every game and made sure it stood up to your religious and moral standards, or hear me plea to be able to have a game I was interested in. Even when you had approved the game, you had to watch me play it, I wasn’t allowed to enjoy the game on my own.

You thought you were entitled to walk into my room at any time. You wouldn’t listen when I would tell you ‘one moment, I’m changing.’ Instead you would waltz right in, even when I was naked. You would barge into my bathroom, even when I told you to wait. Then you would get mad when I was upset over this. Maybe I didn’t want my parents to see me naked, even though ‘you saw me naked as a baby and child’.

How was I supposed to talk to you openly when you would violate my privacy? When I could have nothing to myself, be able to vent and get my feelings out in a healthy way, to talk about things I didn’t feel I needed to or could tell you, to talk about things I know you all opposed and would interrogate me on, to just talk about day to day things? 

When I started dating I was hypersexual. I admit that. When puberty hit I became very sexual and physically affectionate without knowing it, but you started to analyze and criticize me for every action I made. I was touch starved, and craving genuine affection. I wanted to feel loved, to feel wanted, to feel appreciated, and to feel alive. I felt dead inside. I barely got any affection, even from my parents, from other family members, and those I was childhood friends with and was no longer close to. I went to seek that affection with other people, I called my friends parents ‘mom and dad’ because of this and how you all were. You emotionally neglected me. Sure I had physical things, but that wasn’t what I wanted or needed. I need your love, your time, and your acceptance. The only way I got that was through teenage boys that would give me their love, time, acceptance, and physical affection. I even went out seeking any of those things online, which lead me to an early discovery of porn (I was 11), of online chat rooms where I could do smut rps and flirt (I was 13), and teenage dating sites ((common in the 2000′s)(I was 14)). Instead of figuring out what the root of this was, and trying to listen, actually listen, you went about accusing me of different things related to what I had found, even when I wasn’t. You were telling me that you were expecting me to do those things, and that I had to lie to you all to have any sort of freedom. You though dating was only to get married, you had the ‘date to mate’ mentality.

I started dressing in popular clothes of that time, and finding ways of expressing myself and my feelings. Gone were the days of pink dresses and frills. I liked black, blue, and purple, rather than pink and purple. I wanted to wear tighter fitting shirts that were comfortable, easy to move around in, and had fun graphics and words on the chest area. I wanted to wear cute skirts and shorts, as well as skinny jeans, and leggings. You were unhappy with all of it. I was 13 and a C cup, it wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t find anything cute that would comfortably fit. I liked wearing shorter shorts, skirts, skinny jeans, and leggings because they were comfy, easy to move around in, and made me feel free and happy.  I can’t tell you how many times you criticized my hair, make up, and clothes. You would constantly tell me that I looked like a hussy, like a prostitute, like an attention seeker, like a devil worshipper, like I was ‘asking to be raped’. You said the same things about other people behind their backs, and you didn’t like it when I used your religion against you. You would ask me if I would wear that around ‘God’, or ‘Jesus,  and I would say yes. You would tell me that I would be distracting to guys, or that they would look at me a certain way. I simply said that they shouldn’t look if they can’t control themselves, and that the bible said that any man who looked at a woman with lust in his eyes should gouge them out. You hated when I was right, and would deny that you were wrong.

How was I not supposed to be hypersexual, even when I had been sexualized and been deprived of any affection since I was a child?

At the age of 6 you had me start working out because I had “baby fat” and was overweight at my age. You started only having and making healthy things to eat, then would get mad when I liked the taste of some of them, and would eat more than my ‘portion size’. You limited my food intake, and made me work out so I could ‘loose weight’. At 9 this all got worse, as I was beginning to go into puberty, was getting breasts, and had more baby fat moving to my hips. You started humiliating me for getting seconds at dinner, for eating three meals a day, and for continuing to go through puberty. You would also get mad at me for having things like white bread (I hate the texture of wheat and wholegrain), white rice (I don’t like the texture of brown rice), or any sort of junk food. It was no surprise that I started to starve myself so I would fit your standards. 

Why wouldn’t I have an eating disorder when that was all I heard all day every day?

These are the main things that lent to my depression, made it worse, and made me want to kill myself from an early age. These are the main behaviors that made me despise my parents and cut them out of my life. These are what you should avoid. If you want to have your kids in your life, don’t do these. 

[pregnant-piggy]

Back again - part I

Sirius Black x reader

Words: 2700+

Warnings: idk the usual swearing?

A/N: I started this a year(!) ago and never finished it until four weeks ago. So the beginning might be a little more bad than my usual writing (and with that I mean the whole first part). Part two will follow in a few days. Love ya, my babies!

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‘Harry before you leave,’ Dumbledore says when Harry gets up, ‘I have to show you one more memory. But this one is different. You must look at this memory alone. It is not about Voldemort... It is about you...’

Harry turns around to Dumbledore who is standing next to the pensieve. Harry slowly walks to it and puts both his hands on each side. He lowers his head and when his head reaches the substance, Harry falls into that familiar feeling and everything gets blurry.

Suddenly Harry is standing in a small room. It is a baby room. The walls are a soft yellow and in the corner there is a white baby bed. There is one window in the room and in front of it stands a woman. The woman is holding a baby and she is talking to him.

‘It's time for bed, big boy!’ the unfamiliar woman says. She turns around and Harry recognises the baby. He has black hair and bright green eyes. It is Harry. The baby makes howling noises and points his hands to the window.

The woman sighs. ‘Alright, one last time,’ she says. She walks to the window and Harry follows her. He looks outside and is surprised with what he sees.

In the garden there are four people. With a shock Harry realises that his parents are down there with Sirius and Remus. Sirius and James are running after each other with what appear to be water guns and Remus and Lily are sitting on a bench, looking and laughing at the boys.

‘You see those people?’ the woman says. ‘That is your dad-' she points at James, ‘-he is by far the funniest guy I have ever met. That woman is you mom, she is the most sweetest, caring person I know. That man following your dad is Uncle Sirius, he loves you more than anyone in the world. And I should know... And there we have your uncle Remus. When he smiles the whole space lights up. He is special, once you have him you should never let him go, that's probably why he's still here. And we also have your uncle Peter, but he is sick.’

Harry's stomach cramps when he hears that name. All these people didn't know Peter betrayed them, they still loved him.

‘And I am you Auntie (Y/N). And I love you and all these people so much.’

Harry looks at the woman. She is his ‘auntie’? As he sees the tears in her eyes, Harry realises that he is crying too. He quickly dries his tears and follows the woman, who is now putting baby-Harry to bed. When baby-Harry is tucked in (Y/N) kisses his head and he falls asleep.

‘You are so loved, Harry,’ (Y/N) whispers.

Harry gets pulled out of the room, but he doesn't want to. He wants to scream, say that he is staying there forever, in a place where his parents lived, where everyone was happy, where Harry was loved, but his throat is dry and there is no sound.

Harry falls on the ground in Dumbledore's office and just sits there. He starts to cry, but he doesn't even try to stop his tears. He doesn't care. The warm feeling that filled him just minutes ago, has now turned into a cold, sickening feeling that is spreading in his body.

He doesn't know how long he has been on the floor, but at some point Harry dries his tears and gets up. Dumbledore is sitting at his desk, looking at his fingers. Harry sits down on the chair opposite of the desk. He needs answers.

‘Who was that?’ Harry asks with a hoarse voice.

‘That was (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). She was Sirius' girlfriend,’ Dumbledore answers calm. ‘She was in the same year as you parents and I believe she was good friends with your mother.’

‘Is she... Is she...?’ Harry can't say it.

‘Dead?’ Dumbledore finishes his question. ‘No, she was so sure that, when Sirius was sent to Azkaban, he was innocent, that she kept writing letters to the ministry and finally was sent to France. That didn't keep her from writing angry letters though,’ Dumbledore chuckles. ‘After she got the news Sirius escaped, she tried everything to get back here. She is here now.’

Harry remains quiet. He had never heard about (Y/N). He doesn't know her, but from what he saw in the memory and from Dumbledore telling she was Sirius' girlfriend, she seems nice.

‘She wants to meet you. If you want that of course.’

Dumbledore's words break Harry's thoughts. Yes, Harry would like to see her too, she could tell him all about his parents and Sirius and Remus.

‘Yeah, I would like to meet her too.’

‘She'll be here next Sunday. She would like it if you could fill her in on what happened, she hasn't met Sirius yet and she wants to be prepared.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell her.’

‘Then I’ll see you Sunday,’ Dumbledore gestures to the door. ‘Oh and Harry?’ Harry turns around. ‘Please don’t tell anyone that she is back. The ministry does not know.’

Harry nods and leaves the office, with a much lighter than he usually has.

- -- -

‘Harry, are you nervous? You haven’t eaten anything!’ Hermione says to Harry.

It is Sunday morning and they are having breakfast in the Great Hall. Harry hasn’t touched his food and he is staring at his hands. Today is the day he is going to meet (Y/N). He had been awake all night trying to come up with something to say to her, but he couldn’t think of anything. Then he started to worry, what if (Y/N) doesn’t want to talk about her past?

Harry looks up to Hermione. She is looking at him, worried. Harry shifts his look to Ron, who is stabbing his sausage with his knife.

‘Ron that sausage doesn’t have to die!’

Harry laughs at Hermione’s comment. But his laughing stops when she looks back at him.

‘Come on, ‘Moine. I’m fine!’ Harry defends himself and to show he takes a bite from his toast. Hermione shoots him a final worried look but drops it. Instead she asks Harry the one thing that makes him feel even worse.

‘What are you going to tell her?’

‘I don’t know, I’ll probably just answer her questions. I don’t know what she wants to know! I don’t even know how she looks!’ Harry confesses.

‘Are you gonna ask her about your parents?’ Ron asks.

Harry nods. ‘Yeah, Dumbledore said that she was good friends with my mother and if she was Sirius’ girlfriend she probably knows much about him and my dad.’

‘I just wonder why she is back now and not earlier. I mean Sirius escaped three years ago,’ Hermione says. Harry and Ron both shrug.

The rest of time they talk about the upcoming Quidditch match. Harry almost forgets about (Y/N), but after a few minutes McGonagall walks towards Harry.

‘Mr. Potter, would you please come with me?’ Harry swallows and walks after McGonagall. Hermione and Ron wish him good luck before he disappears.

McGonagall walks to the same room Harry went in after he was chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. When he enters the room, he sees a woman on the other side of the room, her back turned to the door Harry just stepped through. She has (y/h/c) hair and she is wearing a travel coat. When Dumbledore enters the room the woman looks up. There is a small smile on her face and she walks up to Dumbledore.

‘Thank you so much for this, Albus,’ the woman greets him. Her mouth smiles, but there is a coldness in her eyes. Dumbledore simply smiles.

‘I believe you should thank Harry,’ he says and points at Harry who feels like his toast is having a party with his eggs in his stomach.

The woman turns around and looks at Harry. Her eyes fill with tears and she walks to Harry and hugs him. It is not a normal hug, it is a mother’s hug. Harry relaxes a bit but still doesn’t know what to say. The woman lets Harry go and looks in his eyes. He could have sworn he saw her mouth Lily.

‘I am (Y/N),’ she says. ‘You look so much like James except for your eyes, you have Lily’s eyes. Ah, well, you have probably heard that a thousand times by now.’ Of course Harry has, but hearing it this time feels different.  ‘I am sorry I haven’t contacted you before. This must come as quite a shock for you.’ Harry nods but he still cannot say anything. ‘I hoped you wanted to fill me in with what happened since Sirius escaped.’ Harry nods again and (Y/N) smiles. ‘Let’s go to the kitchens, I don’t think anyone will be there,’ (Y/N) suggests. She says goodbye to Dumbledore and McGonagall.

‘It is good to see you, (Y/N),’ McGonagall says. (Y/N) smiles and this time her eyes smile too.

‘Good to see you too, professor.’

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Harry follows (Y/N) to the kitchens. He notices that she is not wearing wizards clothes. She is wearing a plain black jeans and shirt instead of robes. Harry focuses on the label on the back of (Y/N)’s shoes while they walk silently through the halls.

They enter the kitchens and sit down. (Y/N) looks around and smiles.

‘Wow, it has not changed at all. I remember all the nights and mornings I have sat here. Stealing candy with James, drinking tea with Remus, comforting Sirius. I even baked a cake here with Peter for your mom’s birthday!’ She stops looking around and focuses on Harry. ‘I’m sorry I keep on talking. Do you want anything? Tea, coffee?’

‘No, thanks. I just had breakfast.’ It is the first thing Harry says and he feel he is getting red when (Y/N) laughs.

‘You even have your dad’s voice!’ Harry smiles. ‘I am sorry to disturb your Sunday, but the truth is that I am really nervous to meet Sirius. I haven’t seen him in fifteen years and I don’t know if he has changed!’

Harry looks at (Y/N). She looks genuinely worried. He looks in her (y/e/c) eyes and scans her face. He understands why Sirius fell for her. She has a natural beauty and in her eyes there is a laugh even though she is looking worried right now.

‘Can you tell me what happened since Sirius escaped? You don’t have to into details very much but I would like to know some… background.’

Harry starts telling hesitatingly. (Y/N) looks at him interested and she only nods.

‘…then Ron’s rat turned into Peter-‘ Harry stops; (Y/N) has suddenly risen from her chair and is now walking up and down in the kitchen.

‘I knew it! I knew it wasn’t Sirius! But Wormtail? Who would have thought that! That son of a bitch!’ she says angrily. Red sparks are coming from her wand. After a minute she is calmed down and she sits back down on her chair.

‘Please tell me they got him.’  

‘Uhh… Well…’ Harry stammers. (Y/N) drops her head on the table.

‘Shit, so now he is back to Voldemort?’

‘Yes. Should I go on?’ Harry asks careful. She nods.

Harry continues, he tells about how he and Hermione saved Sirius, about fourth year and how Sirius broke into a house to talk to Harry ((Y/N) laughs), about the battle against Voldemort in the graveyard and about fifth year, how he and Ron and Hermione founded Dumbledore’s Army, about Arthur Weasley’s attack and about how Voldemort exposed himself at the ministry at the end of the year.

‘Harry you are more than your father than I thought, but luckily you also have Lily’s intelligence. Your parents would have been so proud of you.’ Harry’s eyes fill with tears. (Y/N) smiles when she sees it.

‘Thank you so much for telling me this, I understand that it is not easy. Is there anything you want to know about me or your parents?’ she asks and Harry nods.

‘Yeah, but I don’t really know what…’ (Y/N) laughs.

‘I’ll just tell something,’ she says. ‘Maybe you want to know a little more about me. Let’s see… I was in the same year as your parents and I immediately became friends with your mother. She was a wonderful girl. I also befriended Remus in first year, but I kept distance from Sirius and James. Then in second year James’ crush became quite obvious and I had to protect Lily from him. That’s when I became friends with Sirius and Peter and eventually also your dad.

Of course we had a lot of fun, but sometimes Sirius and James could go a little too far. I assume that you know about Severus Snape. He did some horrible things and well, so did they. But they changed. Sirius in the summer to sixth year, when he ran away from home and James in the next summer. Snape never changed. In seventh year he would still hex James behind his back. He was a terrible guy.’

‘Yeah I know,’ Harry says.

‘You know Snape?’ (Y/N) asks surprised.

‘Yeah, he is the DADA teacher. He is awful.’

(Y/N)’s jaw drops. ‘Why would Dumbledore hire him as a teacher?! He was a death eater!’ Harry shrugs. ‘Well, we shouldn’t let this turn into a I-hate-Snivellus-talk, though I wouldn’t mind to be honest…  

Sirius and I started dating in sixth year and after we graduated we moved in together with Remus. We were happy, or as happy as anyone can be when there is a war going on…

And then you got born. You were the prettiest baby I have ever seen. Your parents loved you so much. They would take you to order-meetings and sit with you in the corner not paying any attention to what was being said. Sirius, Remus or I would watch you if James and Lily had a mission or when they went out.

Everything was wonderful for a year. But then it happened. Lily and James murdered, Sirius imprisoned and everyone thought he killed Peter. I didn’t, I could not believe that Sirius had killed someone, he would never kill someone. I kept writing to the ministry and eventually they sent me to France. I still wrote letters though, no one could make me believe that Sirius was a murderer.

Years went by. Then I got a letter from Dumbledore, saying that Sirius had escaped. He didn’t want me to come yet, but he said he would keep me updated. He wrote me twice. In one year.’

(Y/N)’s voice was bitter and her eyes turned into two fires.

‘The year after that, that was your fourth year, I got a letter from Remus, saying that Sirius was still on the run and he wrote that I should stop sending letters to the ministry. No one told me that he was innocent, no one told me that it was in fact Peter who betrayed Lily and James. Anyway, finally I got a letter from Dumbledore asking me to come here and meet Sirius. It took me a whole year before I got here but I am here now.’

Harry stares at (Y/N). He is having a hard time to accept all the information he just got. He never expected from Dumbledore to be so mysterious, even more than normal. Why didn’t anyone tell her Sirius was innocent?

(Y/N) smiles while she looks at Harry. ‘I’ll leave you for now. I think you have enough to think about for the next… well month, if not year.’

‘Yeah,’ Harry says. ‘Thank you.’

‘No, thank you Harry. You really helped me.’

Harry and (Y/N) get up and leave the kitchens. They walk past the Great Hall and are now by the door. Harry decides to ask something that has bothered him since he heard you were coming back:

‘If you are here illegal, where are you going to stay?’

‘Oh, I am going to meet with Remus. I actually hope I can stay with him.’ (Y/N) hugs Harry and says goodbye. ‘I’ll see you soon, Harry.’

Harry watches (Y/N) disappear into the fog that hangs over the school grounds and then turns around.

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[mcnypieces]

     A month later and at last I come bearing an update once again. It’s bound to be incredibly lengthy as life has not been its most placid, but I am here nonetheless.

     TL;DR for those also struggling with their time recently: Life stressful, Bun scare, WoW fun but friend/Mythic+ group is a mess due to losing a friend to toxicity, I will likely be remaking this multimuse blog and starting fresh there to give me more incentive to be around to write comfortably in a fresh, happy, non-cluttered place, complete with a new Birkan OC I talked about some months before now. Though I haven’t technically decided and was going to ask opinions, I will likely still be remaking, as everything here is a mess. Lulu’s blog will remain as is for now, as I am attached to it and has retained more activity from me ( not much more, however ), though I have also considered moving her with everyone as well to keep everyone in one place and maybe make my mind feel more focused in a collective space. I’m still very much on the fence about it. Thoughts on that are welcome.

     There was a bit of optimism at the beginning of my break to play WoW. However, a little less than a day into the launch, I noticed something off about the youngest of my rabbits. Hazel, a netherland dwarf gifted to me by a neighbor down the way during Christmas a couple years ago so she had friends and wasn’t alone during the day, developed a head tilt. It was enough to be noticeable, but nowhere near the cases most see posted in pictures. Head tilt in rabbits is often a very serious thing, as it can cause permanent damage and even death if not treated immediately. Anything from an injury to unkempt ears to a common parasite ( which is technically classified as a fungus ) to neurological troubles - the range is about as vast as self-diagnosing with WebMD. Torticollis in rabbits has a bunch of different causes, very few of which are relatively mild.

     I was - to say the least - in absolute hysterics. She was off balance, tripping over herself, curling up into herself trying to keep footing. To somebody that’s never seen it in person before, it looks like you’re watching an animal on the verge of passing from something neurological. I had no idea what was going on. To be frank, I was absolutely terrified. It was 1AM and very few vets were 24-hour, especially in this crisis, much less ones that could look at rabbits. I steeled myself to call the closest one for recommendations on what to do and where to go. Naturally, I was told there was nothing this place could do besides euthanasia ─ which, in my very emotional state, I was incredibly offended by the mere immediate suggestion of. Hazel had been acting completely normal up until then, and she still had her energy. She was trying to climb all over the place despite having no balance, and she showed no other symptoms of anything besides just tilting and falling over herself. At this point obviously I know they were simply stating that was the only thing they could do as they don’t take exotic pets, but in the moment, being offered it as the first and seemingly only solution made me upset. I’m sure that would be anybody in that situation. So, of course, I refused, and they told me of other places that would be able to at least see her at that time and give me more sound options.

     I find a 24 hour emergency pet clinic about thirty minutes away. There’s a place that for sure takes exotics, but it’s 2 hours away and closed at this hour. Okay, fine, I don’t have time to wait with this. I call the 24 hour clinic. They tell me they do see exotics and can treat the basics but they don’t have the equipment to properly diagnose anything for certain. Unfortunate, but I don’t have any other options at this point. They say they will take her and monitor her behavior to figure out where I should go from there. I take her there. I try not to break down again on the ride there, I try not to break down as they take her padded comfy box from me. They tell me they have another, more serious case they have to see to immediately but will monitor her and do a basic check-up. It will take them an hour at minimum, and I was welcome to stay in the parking lot. I decide against it, go home to clean up and prep a space for her while trying to steel myself more. It takes a couple hours for them to call back. 

     Lo and behold, they have no idea what’s wrong. As stated when I called, aside from the head tilting, she is acting completely normal. Eating, going to the bathroom, has her energy, no leg or eye issues that are common with the usual problems that lead to head tilting. What tests they can run are absolutely normal. They gave her what they referred to as “a bunny feast”, and she delighted herself in it with no problems, and they even brushed her down for me ( I didn’t get the chance yet, her winter coat was just coming in ). She just has a head tilt all of a sudden, out of nowhere. This is great news, but it’s also upsetting, because I still have no idea what’s going on. They give me medication for an infection and Metacam for the potential pain she could have been in, and sent me on my way to monitor her at home. If anything changed for the worse, I would take her to the vet in Raleigh two hours away to have actual tests done. 

     Okay, so I’m still in the dark on what’s wrong, but I have medication. Great. I watch her for two weeks, give her the infection medication every 12 hours and the pain medication the first 4 days. And, in time, her head tilt begins to disappear. That tells both the doctor and I that it was either 1) an ear infection, which was now cured, or 2) an injury. My mind has me leaning towards the latter, if only because I know how fast she runs all over the place and Jolyne, my cat, does play with her. They have done so for years now without issue, often times Jojo will be running away from Hazel rather than vice versa. Hazel will do loops back and forth and then suddenly charge at her in an attempt to catch her off guard. I have not let her out with Jojo since then in case roughhousing was in fact the cause, but Hazel is back to running around like the crazy thing she is. I’m still watching her every day, and all the rabbits will hopefully be getting new, large hutches for Christmas. Hazel’s has been ordered. To this moment, I still have no idea what caused her head tilt. What I did learn, however, is that there are a lot of rabbits that get euthanized due to head tilt, when most of the ailments - if caught early enough and with lengthy TLC - can be cured. Rabbits can even live happily with the tilt should it become permanent ( which it can be! ). Here is a happy bun who lived a wonderful life with a permanent head tilt. Much worse than the way Hazel’s was, but the common bad tilt nonetheless. I called to tell them the great news, how grateful I was they could do anything at all, and they were ecstatic to have me call them back. Things in that regard are now back to normal, but I keep an eye on her as per usual. Definitely not the kind of scare I was expecting out of nowhere, but one I received nonetheless.

     During the time I monitored her and kept her close at my side in her hutch ( I went out of the way to move her hutch in with me when I cleaned it, because why wouldn’t I? ), I enjoyed the launch of Shadowlands. My main WoW friend group, A/B/C/D/E, were all playing and content with what was happening. We even were talking to old friends, thinking about raiding, had two new friends coming to learn to play the game. It was great! But then base Mythics came out, and things went sour out of nowhere. 

     One of our long time friends in our original Mythic+ group became the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. We’ve all had our disagreements and issues with said friend for some time, as he has been very negative the past few months and a hamper on the friend group even before launch. Everyone knows things are at an all time low, and the world is not in its best state - but we come to play games to get away from the realities of things. We’re here to have fun and kid around, not to mope. This is not to say we’re not here to be supportive if something is genuinely wrong, or that sadness just isn’t allowed ever. That would be silly. We’re always here to support each other in rough times, and such is the reason we’re as tight-knit as we are to begin with. Always has been the case. 

     However, this was not your typical sad sort of negative. This was the permanent “Glass is Half Empty” mentality. Everything had to be negative. Win a BG match? He didn’t have fun because he got targeted down one time when he was alone on a caster. Clear base Mythics for the first time of the expansion? No time to celebrate, because he didn’t get a piece of gear out of it, or he didn’t do the burst he wanted on a trash pack because we didn’t cater to his pull plan. During the second week of Mythics, he was constantly complaining about not getting gear drops to the point it was making other members upset. No one likes doing eight dungeons, getting one or two drops, and both being pieces you don’t need. Hell, I did Mythic+ this entire week since it came out and I still have a Heroic neck on my body because it has a socket and great stats and I’ve not gotten another drop since. But to complain about not getting a drop and dunking on people who are getting the upgrade ─ which, in turn, betters the group ─ is just ridiculous. This was not exclusive to just WoW, either. Everything they played together when I was not present, he acted the same way ─ negative, upsetting, and very, very defensive whenever someone would tell him to knock it off. He’d pull the “oh you don’t care about me” card. He constantly felt like people were coming after him, even when nobody ever was, and that everyone just had something against him and we kept him there out of sheer pity ─ which was infuriating to all of us, the people who still considered him a friend and cared about him to tolerate the toxic behavior and try to work through it. He’d pretend to be a victim if you tried to call him out on bad behavior, acting as if he was being singled out, while also bad mouthing other people and poking fun at them and then disguising it as a joke ( or in his case, “a meme” ). When you’d do the same back, he’d pull the whole “dude that’s not cool, I get you’re joking but it’s not funny” attitude every time. He had to be right all the time, and if you tried to tell him he was wrong, he’d fight you on it until the bloody end, even when proven wrong earlier. He wanted to be catered to and, if things weren’t going the way he wanted, he was negative. If he wasn’t having fun, nobody else was allowed to have fun. 

     Friend A, who is essentially our leader that brought everybody together and often makes calls for the group ( though in reality we’re all just an aimless bunch of friends messing around and having fun ), has known Friend C for a longer than any of us. He considers him his best friend, and they have been close for many years since Cataclysm. We’re all friends, of course, but A and C have been close for a very long time. They are very supportive of one another, regardless of what happens, and always have been. However, even Friend A is getting very frustrated with Friend C’s behavior. Friend C has not always been like this. In fact, he used to be the complete opposite. He loves the guy to death and back, but the other members, particularly Friend D, is getting into mini verbal fisticuffs during dungeons disguised as friendly fun being poked and forth almost every night. Friend D complains about Friend C behind his back ( which he has been asked to tone down and, some nights, has been agreed with based on the issue at hand ). A new coworker of Friend A who is also a very chill, cool person had her own reservations about him when she joined due to his behavior and it kept her from joining voice calls. Hell, I got into an argument with him a week before launch due to his behavior, to which he tried to invalidate my argument by claiming I was “coming after him” and therefore my side was automatically invalid because I had a “personal vendetta” against him and me “shit-talking” him while making my points “comes off a certain way” ─ when the point I was making had absolutely nothing to do with him personally. Again, the same “I’m being attacked” mentality, when no such thing was happening.

     Eventually one night while he was complaining about loot, Friend A had a talk with him about not complaining about not getting loot anymore, as it was wearing on everyone’s nerves. Mythic+ would come out soon, loot would be flowing in, and everyone would eventually be geared, including him. This wasn’t the first time he was talked to in regards to the way he’d been acting in general. He agreed to tone it down, and that was that. But guess what? That didn’t happen. The next night we finish up our Mythics, and he has to physically stop himself from making a comment and covers it up with “nope, I promised I wouldn’t complain about loot” with a tone that sounds like someone is struggling really, really hard not to say something and is holding back. Normally this would be something nobody cares about and is part of the process but this isn’t the first time he said something about it. He then proceeds to complain anyway, spends night questioning the tank’s ( Friend D at the time ) pulls and complaining about being beat in DPS every other pull because “oh I don’t have gear cause the game hates me so-” when he’s not even doing his AoE rotation properly ( found this out later after everything fell through ). His attitude is so negative it’s affecting the way he plays and, to put it bluntly, he’s playing and acting like shit.

    So Friend A sits him down. Again. At this point he’s still trying his absolute best to work things out with him, but his foot has come down. His behavior for months has been toxic. People are getting fed up. He’s bringing down group morale. Everyone is worried his attitude is going to make the new people who are trying to learn the game quit because he’s constantly shit talking the game and pretending the world is ending in voice. Friend A tells him he’s here for him still and how he’s always here to talk if life is a mess and Friend C is still welcome, but he needs to get his shit straight. By the end of the chat, Friend C claims “that’s just how he is” and he can’t do anything about it ─ which is just such bullshit. We know good and well how he really is, and this ain’t it. He’s just too lazy, full of himself, and down on his luck to acknowledge he has a problem. He says it’s shitty of us not to “accept him for who he is” and how we all know his life is shit and that he’s justified. Friend A essentially tells him he doesn’t want somebody like that in his group. Friend C takes this as “oh I don’t want you here period”, essentially says “well I don’t want to be in a group that just pities me and takes me along because they feel bad and not because they’re actually my friends”, leaves the discord group, removes Friend A from discord, removes friend A from Battle.net, then blocks him in both places. Out of nowhere. Friend A then comes to announce that Friend C will no longer be a part of our group. This is a TL;DR, since I wasn’t there for the conversation and it’s been a little bit since I’ve asked Friend A exactly what was said and feel it inappropriate to ask for specifics again since it’s all behind us now and that night still upsets him to this moment.

    Since then, Friend C has come back to try and make amends to everyone, especially the group, as he dropped without telling anybody out of frustration and essentially said “fuck you” to the entire group because he was upset at his best friend. Friend A was very emotional about it after it happened as, like said, this was his best friend who essentially just claimed he didn’t care about him at all and just pitied him despite doing everything he could to try to keep everybody happy and even catering to Friend C at times against his better judgement. Despite that, however, Friend A has stated multiple times he would not even take Friend C back as a friend unless he had a life evaluation first. Friend A and Friend C sat down to have another talk after the dust settled so Friend C could apologize, as Friend C reached out supposedly to do so, but he still acted as though he didn’t do anything wrong. He swore constantly on his dog-who-he-loved-dearly’s ashes he didn’t say the shitty things he said to Friend A that night. He didn’t own up to anything he said or did, only apologized for leaving immediately and dipping on everyone else, as he worried he’d “burned the bridge”. Friend A did not welcome him back with open arms but told him his doors were still open to talk and were never closed to begin with ( Friend C closed them himself by leaving suddenly, after all ) and that he could talk to him again when he figured everything out. Everyone is at least on speaking terms again, but he has not rejoined the discord nor the game group, and wasn’t even playing for a time. Now he’s supposedly playing and having fun again on his own terms and doing things we haven’t. Supposedly. So our Mythic+ group had a gap in it, which was filled by one of the new friends who just started playing. Both new players in our group are learning fast, but it has slowed our progression down, which we accept. People have swapped around classes to find accommodations as well, with Friend A now tanking and Friend D healing as they did before, delaying progress further. But now with things decided and in place, we will begin to push again. After all, it’s only the first week of Mythic+. We haven’t really lost any important progress.

    Friend A was very upset and felt like there was more he could’ve done, but everyone in the group has told him day in and day out there was nothing else he could’ve done. Friend C still has a lot to sort out and has seemingly taken absolutely nothing from this situation.

    Both of these situations, on top of the seizures the person I consider a second mom to me still happening ( which she went in for today to be looked at again while she’s being treated for something else ), has made writing nigh impossible. I have been having a lot of fun playing WoW and the issue with Friend C, while a big hamper on things in the moment, hasn’t stopped me from enjoying it as is. Both the major hospitals near me have recently announced they are at full capacity on virus patients and will no longer be accepting more of them and, so long as there’s no immediate reason to do so, have asked people to stay inside as much as possible because of it. With Hazel’s emergency making me miss my dad’s small Thanksgiving as I was up all night that night and it was the next day, this means I will also not make it to his Christmas. I did not go to my mom’s get-together for Christmas either, as it was at her restaurant where she works and the number of people there made me nervous. She was sad, but there’s nothing I could really do to justify the risk. The fact people still want to have any kind of gathering even for the holidays blows my mind.

     That all being said, things have calmed down enough for me to consider making another attempt at writing again and retuning to the blogs I have missed dearly. The breaks are always nice, but I’ve had to take far too many of late, and struggling with the energy and mindset to write for months is really starting to get under this bun’s blue fur. In the time I’ve been away I’ve thought about remaking this blog, as it’s a complete mess and riddled with old things that are no longer a part of it. My tags are messed up, my info is all over the place, and I feel as though a fresh place filled with friends who are still active might speed up the process of getting me back on track. In addition to that, I’ve thought more about the OC idea I brought up some time ago and will be adding said OC to the roster once things are set-up, assuming I go through with the idea. I’ve also considered adding Lulubelle to the multimuse as well to keep everyone in one place, but as I’m attached to her blog and hers is more organized, I’m reluctant to do so. It is a thought and consideration, nonetheless. It will all take some time to do, but afterward, assuming it goes as expected, activity will resume once again.

      It will take some time, but hopefully things will be back to the way they were soon enough. ♥

[inglourious-imagines]

Baby (Cliff Booth)

Requested by: @sergeant-donny-donowitz (you should give her a follow if you haven't already, she's an outstanding writer!) I apologize it took me so damn long, I've been really busy lately.

Summary: The affection between Cliff and you is more than obvious but both of you are too stubborn to confess. All you 'need' is to involuntarily meet your ex hippie boyfriend so Cliff could save you and finally realize his feelings.

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy! Requests are open!

"Hello my Hollywood star!" your voice echoed through Rick's hall as you walked in the living room with two six packs of beer in each hand. "Hey B-baby!" your actor friend got up from the coach to hug you tight. You held him probably a little bit longer than you should but you just missed him so much and haven't seen him and Cliff for such a long time because of the new job as an actor you got. 

"C'mon, have a s-seat, Baby!" he laughed and put his hand around your shoulder. You smiled happily at the random memory that just appeared in your head.

•••

"Can you stop it, Rick?" you frowned at him and started to walk away because the way he just embarrassed you in front of so many people was way behind the line. He just laughed at your behaviour and ran after you, "Jesus Y/N, don't be such a baby. I-it was just a fun."

"Yeah, maybe for you, Mr Dalton." you didn't even look at him when you said that.

"Now y-you're calling me by m-my surname? That's very m-mature."

"Can you just shut up?"

"Okay, f-fine. I'll stop it."

"Finally."

"Baby." 

"I'm so done with you, Rick fucking Dalton." 

"Ohhh, you l-love me!"

At that point, you couldn't stay angry at Rick anymore. And ever since, he'd been calling you Baby. Only in serious conversations he'd call you by your real name.

•••

"Cliff is on his way, don't w-worry." Rick said all of a sudden while making margaritas in the kitchen. "I didn't say anything." you tried to cover the sudden nervousness behind a smile.

"Then why the fuck y-you're blushing so damn hard?" he laughed loudly and turned to face you, "now tell me what has been g-going on with you two." 

You didn't even tried to stop the way this conversation was slowly going. Rick obviously knew about your feelings towards Cliff, it wasn't really hard to guess that because your red cheeks gave you away every single time. Even Cliff had to know...

"I've never seen him that h-happy when he's with you, Y/N." Rick broke the silence between you two and your heart dropped a little when you heard those words. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Don't tell me you d-don't see it! Every time he just gets to talk to y-you, his eyes sparkle and he can't help it but smile like a freaking idiot a-all the time."

And once again, your cheeks were turning into the light tone of red. "And then you're blushing so h-hard when he talks with you and this just c-completes the whole l-love story."

"Geez, shut up and drink." you laughed but deep down you were wishing for Rick's words to be true.

•••

You were lying on the coach with Rick watching nothing else but Bounty Law when there was this specific knock on the front door you'd recognize any time. You jumped on your feet maybe too happily and ran over to open the door.

"Try not to be r-red like a fucking tomato, Baby!" 

Damn it, Rick! Can you shout a bit louder so Cliff could hear you?!

Causal dark blue jeans, plain black T-shirt, mokasins, nothing special but it was probably the most beautiful thing you'd seen in the past week.

"I freakin' missed ya so much." Cliff mumbled and immediately wrapped his strong arms around your body. This was rather unusual gesture of Cliff because he wasn't the sentimental type of guy so you enjoyed this little moment as much as you could, his hand was gently rubbing your back and you felt genuinely safe. "I missed you too, Cliff." you whispered and pulled him even closer to you even though there wasn't any space left between you two.

•••

"We forgot the fucking h-hippie sucker Tex!" Rick shouted all of sudden. "Oh yeah, this idiot. I hate him." Cliff nodded and took a drag from his cigarette as he rolled his eyes at the little memory.

Cliff knew you weren't lucky when it comes to picking boyfriends and you probably knew it as well but were just too stubborn to admit it. Exactly this was eating the stuntman alive. All he ever wanted was you to be truly happy, even if it wasn't with him. And seeing you so broken from all the bad relationships, it hurt him like hell. He wanted to hug you tight, stroke your hair and kiss your forehead and tell you it'll be all fine. He wanted to fall asleep next to you as well as wake up. He wanted to walk Brandy with you. He just simply wanted you. There hadn't been anyone in his life that made him feel the way you did. 

•••

"Hey, I left something in my car, I'm gonna go get it. I'll be right back." you informed your friends, got up from the TV and quickly left the house. 

There was this nice summer breeze in the air that made you shiver a bit but you didn't mind it at all.

You didn't leave anything in the car. It was just too much for you to be in the same room as Cliff. You cursed under your breath for allowing yourself to have this kind of feeling towards him. It was impossible for you to be with him. You knew you'd probably break his heart in the end because it may not work out and you didn't want to destroy something so beautiful. 

•••

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here?"

You slowly turned around and you had to blink a few times just to make sure you're not dreaming. "Hi Tex." you breathed out and took a small step back. "What? You afraid of me, little princess? C'mon, we'll just have some fun together." he winked at you and roughly grabbed your wrist.

You were pretty scared at this moment - your heart was racing inside your chest so fast, your hands were trembling. 

"Just leave me alone. We're done." you tried to sound cold and tough but when he laughed contemptuously, you knew you failed at it. However, his smile disappeared as fast as it formed on his lips and in the next second you felt his hand slap your cheek so hard you fell on the ground and bruised your palms. 

"What the fuck is goin' on here?!" Cliff shouted and was standing right next to you in a matter of one second. He looked at you with so much love and concern, you almost forgot about the burning pain.

"You're Tex, right?" Cliff growled when he turned to the guy and clenched his fists, "listen to me, if you ever show your fucking ass here again or even lay your eyes on her, I swear I'm gonna beat the shit out of you with a can of dog food and then I'll make you eat it, understood?"

All Tex could do was nod.

"Great, now get the fuck out of here!" Cliff raised his voice and that made your ex boyfriend turn around and run away as fast as possible.

"Come here, Y/N." Cliff almost whispered and stroked your hurt cheek. You smiled at him, "Thank you for saving me."

"We should do that for the people we love."

You froze in the moment. He froze right after you when he realised what he just said. There was a small silence between you two. You saw how Cliff was trying to get some words out: "Look, I don't even know why I-" You cut him off with a small innocent kiss, something you wanted to do for some time now. Your cheek didn't hurt anymore or your palms and all you could perceive on was his lips on yours and his hands around your waist.

Well, until Rick came out of the house with a flamethrower in his hands, "Where's the fucking hippie, guys"?

[bethkerring]

10 Tips on Writing Asexuality

It’s been a long, long twelve years since I first realized I was asexual.

I’m one of the fortunate ones that realized my lesser-known orientation without having to go through years of confusion, uncertainty, and experimentation (because while some might enjoy that, I can pretty much guarantee I wouldn’t have). I was fourteen when I first came across the term and thought it might apply to me, and shortly before I turned fifteen, I officially claimed it as my own.

A lot has changed since then. When I first came out, there was almost nothing out there for asexuals. There was the AVEN website, a few blog posts, and even fewer YouTube videos, but the word basically didn’t exist in common knowledge, even among people who identified as LGBTQ+. Any fiction that included ace characters was almost exclusively unconfirmed, and left up to fans to compile lists of evidence that a certain character was probably asexual—which was usually ignored by the majority of fans, who wanted to see the character in sexual situations, and often later brushed aside by the creators.

Now, asexuality is more and more recognized by the popular media and the general public. Visibility is still lacking, but we’re recognized by major LGBTQ+ organizations, represented (to a small extent) in Pride events, and increasingly represented as characters in TV shows, books, movies, etc. I’ve even found random strangers recognizing the asexual pride button on my purse—and I live in the Bible Belt.

And it’s a great feeling. Every time I see another ace character in popular media, I get a little burst of joy to see someone like me—at least in this one way, if not in others. I’m especially glad to see good representation, especially after years of representation that was questionable at best (Sherlock still comes to mind) and harmful at worst (does anyone remember that episode of House?). I’m also thrilled to see that non-asexual people are really interested in doing ace representation right and are reaching out to asexuals to get their take on what they want to see.

So I thought I would include my perspective on writing asexual characters, because frankly, everyone’s experience and viewpoint is a little difference, and I hope this conversation continues with as many diverse voices as possible.

I hope these tips are helpful and make you at least a little more confident about including ace characters in your own work!

1. Watch out for stereotypes, but don’t throw them out the window. This is almost certainly confusing, so let me explain: I often see people try so hard to avoid stereotypical traits in asexual characters that they forget that aces are incredibly diverse. Yes, not all asexuals are aromantic, but some are. Yes, not all asexuals hate close physical contact, but some do. Yes, not all asexuals are shy or socially awkward, but some are. Yes, not all asexuals have seventeen cats, but some do. Yes, not all asexuals are repulsed by sex, but some are. And the list goes on. You should absolutely be aware if a character trait you’ve chosen is stereotypical, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you should avoid it, especially if you have more than one asexual character. Be aware of it, but focus on writing a well-rounded, realistic character over avoiding every stereotype in the book. No matter what trait it is, if you’re writing it well, chances are good there’s an asexual out there who will empathize with it.

2. Keep intersectionality in mind. Though, as I said, I’m absolutely thrilled to see more ace characters in media, I know there’s still a desperate need for more diverse examples of asexuality, especially those that take into account how people of different races, genders, abilities, national origins, religions, and ages—among other things—experience their asexuality. A man does not experience asexuality the same as a woman. A white person does not experience asexuality the same as people of other races—I can’t list them all here, but from what I’ve seen, every racial identity comes with stereotypes and prejudices that interact with asexuality differently. Someone’s religion might affect how they view their asexuality or how they’re viewed by their religious community, and someone’s asexuality might be brushed aside if they’re “too young,” “too old,” or have a disability. Personally, I am an able-bodied American white woman, so I can’t say a lot about this specifically, but please do your research on this aspect of their experience just like you would any other. It might not be what you’re expecting.

3. Don’t make asexuality their defining trait. Unless someone is an asexual activist (and these are valid characters!), and even if they are, they’ve probably got quite a few aspects of their life that have nothing to do with their orientation. An asexual doesn’t spend all day every day thinking about the fact that they don’t experience sexual attraction. It is, after all, the lack of an experience rather than the presence of one, and is therefore less likely to draw their attention at any given moment. Contrary to some people’s belief, asexuals don’t necessarily have “oodles of free time” since they don’t spend it thinking about sex—but they do have other things that interest them. They are full human beings, just as complex as anyone of any other orientation, and as a certain lesbian character from a TV show I’m fond of once said, “My sexuality is not the most interesting thing about me.”

4. Remember that there are many ways to “humanize” a character without giving them a love interest. This is one of those topics that isn’t exclusive to stories with asexual characters, but is still relevant to them. All too often, I’ve seen characters who seem cold, inhuman, or heartless made more “human” by falling in love, as if the ability to feel romantic and/or sexual attraction is what makes them “not a machine.” This idea goes back at least a century, to Arthur Conan Doyle stating that Sherlock Holmes was “as human as a Babbage’s calculating machine, and just as likely to fall in love.”

Let me make this very clear: a character is not inhuman because they don’t feel romantic or sexual love, and a character is not especially human simply because they do feel these things. Even if your character is not asexual, please don’t make the one thing that “humanizes” them be romantic/sexual attraction—and in the case of asexual characters, please don’t try to “humanize” them by giving them a romantic interest. Yes, asexuals can be romantic, aromantic, or anything in between, but romantic asexuals are no more human than aromantics. There are so many other ways to humanize someone: strong platonic attachment, caring for animals, passion for a social cause, love for the environment, and countless other possibilities. Obviously it’s completely okay for romantic or sexual attraction to be one of these things: but please don’t make it the only one.

5. Think about how they discovered their orientation. Even if your character has known they’re asexual for 50+ years, unless your story takes place in some great fictional society where non-straight orientations are openly welcomed and accepted as normal, how they figured out their asexuality is probably going to affect them—as well as when they figured it out. I discovered my own asexuality in my early teens, but I’ve seen people who didn’t discover the term until they were senior citizens, having felt alone and out of place their entire lives with no idea why. If they discovered it recently, especially after a long time of not understanding themself, they might still be figuring out exactly how they define their own identity.

6. Consider asexuality in the context of your character’s environment. Small-scale and large-scale. Where your character grows up and what environment they live in during the story makes a huge difference on how their asexuality is expressed, and this is true whether you’re writing historical fiction (where views of and experiences in asexuality are obviously very different) or whether you’re deciding if your character’s family is supportive. There’s an enormous spectrum of variation in this, so I won’t even try to go into the details, but keep in mind that whether your character is out, what sort of prejudice they face, and how they feel about their own orientation will all be greatly affected by the world they live in and the people they know.

7. Asexuality is not an illness—but that doesn’t mean life experiences can’t affect it. Remember the House episode I mentioned? For those that never saw it, the patient-of-the-day was an apparently ace woman, married to an apparently ace man, who goes to see Dr. House. House is convinced that no human could possibly be asexual, despite another character, Wilson, mentioning research validating the orientation. In the end, House discovers that the man has a brain tumor suppressing his sex drive and the woman has been faking her orientation to stay with her husband.

This is … extremely problematic for what I hope are obvious reasons. This led to a lot of families and friends of asexuals, who had previously been supportive, suddenly worrying that their loved ones had brain tumors. Obviously, if there is a genuine reason to suspect a medical issue (such as a sudden disappearance of sexual interest when it existed before), one should consult a doctor, but this episode presented only two cases of asexuality, one of which was “just an illness” and another of which was a lie. This led viewers to the same conclusion that House himself reached: that no healthy human being could possibly be asexual.

This is a very bad example of asexual representation, but it’s also worth mentioning that there are asexuals who view their asexuality as being affected by their life experiences, a specific diagnosis, or even a chronic illness, and as long as you do research beforehand into what sorts of experiences can contribute to someone’s identity, and don’t try to “cure” that character’s asexuality as part of your story, this is okay. Ideally, include more than one ace character as a way to make it clear to your readers that experiences differ, and that all roads to finding one’s identity are valid. Sexual orientation is unlikely to change and can never be “cured”—since it’s not an illness in itself—but that doesn’t mean the environment can’t affect it.

8. Exploration and questioning is okay. I also want to emphasize that it is completely okay to have a character that is questioning their sexuality, and either later decides that they are ace or decides that they are not ace. As long as asexuality is treated as a genuine orientation and not just a “symptom”—and again, ideally, more than one ace character is included at least briefly—a character realizing that asexuality isn’t the right identity for them, or only realizing such after exploring other identities, is fine. As mentioned above, the House episode did this very wrong, but as long as you are not “disproving” the asexuality of the only two ace characters in the show—especially when it’s disproved by a guy who believes asexuality is impossible/inhuman—and you are sensitive and respectful, I think this can be done without causing offense.

9. Remember that ace views of attraction can be different than non-ace views. Much of society (at least Western society) seems to lump all attraction into one form: sexual and romantic combined. As asexuality gained more visibility, the idea of romantic and sexual attraction existing independently became more popular. On top of this, other types of attraction got more recognition: for instance, strong platonic attraction (like a non-romantic crush), sensual attraction (the desire for non-sexual physical contact), and aesthetic attraction (the attraction to the physical appearance of a person or object, but no desire for interaction). Note that this isn’t an asexual-exclusive experience, and a story definitely doesn’t need ace characters to explore these topics: many non-aces do experience these varied types of attraction, but haven’t had as much context to recognize or explore them. Asexuality, in recognizing that there are human beings with no sexual attraction, helped open the door to these ideas, but they have always existed. And even though this doesn’t necessarily relate to ace characters, I think it will go a long way to helping asexual experiences of attraction be better accepted.

10. Asexuality is a spectrum, and it’s more than okay to write all along it! I’ve been referring to the most general idea of “asexuality” in this post—probably because I fall completely in that category—but asexuality isn’t as simple as that, and the line between “ace” and “non-ace” isn’t so cut and dry. “Grey-asexuals” are a big part of the ace community, and their experience is both similar to and different from people who just identify as “asexual.” There are also demi-sexuals, who feel sexually attracted only once a strong emotional connection has been formed—and yes, these people deal with a lot of the same issues as asexuals, though of course, many parts of their experience are also unique. Keep this spectrum in mind as you’re writing your characters, even if you do end up writing someone who just identifies as “asexual.” It’s important to remember that the spectrum exists, if only because it’s a reminder that all of us, ace, non-ace, or anywhere in between, are part of the same immensely diverse gradient, instead of simply black and white.

Original post on my website.

[gcrifin]

getting to know Lulubelle!!

tagged by: @devilslcg​ GET YOINKED tagging: Who you think

Name?       ❝ Lulubelle Elsemore!! ❞ What was this, role call? ❝ My friends call me Lulu. Or, if you’re after my neck, ‘Loyal’ Lulu ! ❞

Are you single?       ❝ Yeah. But are you really single when you’re having such a good time ?? ❞

Are you happy?       ❝ You know what they say: you can always be happier ! ❞

Are you angry?       ❝ I don’t think so. ❞ A thoughtful hum. ❝ I am a little bummed I don’t have anyone to hang out with, though . ❞

Are your parents still married?       ❝ Of course!! At least, I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t be. I haven’t seen them in a long time ... ❞

              NINE FACTS –

Birth Place?       ❝ San Faldo, in Paradise. Liveliest place you’ll ever see !! ❞

Hair Color?       ❝ Blonde . ❞

Eye Color?       ❝ Green . ❞

Birthday?       ❝ December 8th . ❞

Mood?        ❝ Everything’s been okay, so I guess I’m doing okay too ! ❞ 

Gender?       ❝ Female . ❞

Summer or winter?       ❝ I like both, but I guess summer! I don’t like wearing extravagant costumes in the summer but it’s perfect for comfy clothes! Winter is great for balls, though. Walking through snow in a fluffy gown makes me feel like a noble ! ❞ 

Morning or afternoon?       ❝ Afternoon comes just before the night life, ❞ a wide grin, ❝ and nothing beats the night life! Nobody likes waking up hung over, anyway . ❞

              EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE ? –

Are you in love?       ❝ Mm, that’s a nice thought, isn’t it? Being in love ? ❞ A tap of the lower lip. Kittenish smile, twisting quickly into mischief. ❝ Wouldn’t you like to know, nosy ? ❞

Do you believe in love at first sight?       ❝ A lot of stranger things happen. Fairy tales are a reality in the New World. ❞ being able to transform into a monstrous griffin, Lulubelle can attest to that statement. ❝ I suppose I do . ❞

Who ended your last relationship?       ❝ Do affiliations count? Because I’ll be damned if I let the navy step all over me again. ❞ Or the captain responsible for causing her so much grief, for that matter. ❝ Also, their soldiers keep saying they won’t back off even when I invite them out! Can you believe that? I’m not even a pirate !! ❞ Yet. She mumbles deeply into the fabric of her cloth, ❝ I bet if I made a deal with a Warlord they’d listen to me ... ❞

     Or try to kill her of their own accord. But at least it would be more fun than scaring off novice marines. That was starting to get taxing. It had been a fairly long time since she felt genuinely threatened by anything or anyone . 

     ❝ Oh, it has to be romantic? ❞ she purses her lips. ❝ Well, I haven’t really had anything to end, so ... ❞

Have you ever broken someone’s heart?      A soft bite of the lip and a concerned expression. ❝ No. At least, I really hope not . ❞

     Her parents’, maybe, when she left and considered never coming back .

Are you afraid of commitments?       ❝ I make commitments all the time! Do you know how many parties I’ve planned? The kind of people I’ve put up with? Plus I’ve been out to sea for years now and ── ❞ It’s as if there’s a list a mile long as to why she’s more than capable of handling commitment . 

Have you hugged someone within the last week?       ❝ Sure! People are starting to get less friendly, though. It’s kinda hard to find people okay with it when most of them are holding a knife to your throat saying they’re gonna claim your bounty. ❞ She laughs a little, the happiest smirk cutting it short. ❝ They wish . ❞

Have you ever had a secret admirer?       ❝ Have I? It wouldn’t be very secret if I knew, now would it ? ❞

Have you ever broken your own heart?      She says nothing. The only semblance of an answer is a slight nod .

              SIX CHOICES –

Love or lust?       ❝ Love, obviously! But... ❞ a coy smile. No Lulu, ❝ you don’t kiss and tell, right? ❞ Damn it, Lulu .

Lemonade or iced tea?       ❝ Both if I can put vodka in them. ❞ A wide, all-knowing grin .

Cats or Dogs?       ❝ Where are all the wild choices? Birds, reptiles, amphibians?? My own devil fruit can’t even pick which animal it wants. ❞ A joke, albeit a terrible one. ❝ But I guess since the king of beasts is in my blood now, cats . ❞

A few best friends or many regular friends?        ❝ Can’t I have both ? ❞

A wild night out or romantic night in?       ❝ Come on!! Do I always have to pick between all the fun stuff? ❞ An audible pout and a puckered lower lip, which she quickly retracts. ❝ Obviously I like having wild nights out! I grew up in the Carnival City! ❞ She presses a hand to her face, a wistful expression in her eyes. ❝ But who says no to a party of two ? ❞

     It’s difficult to discern whether Lulubelle is an actor or a dancer at this point .

Day or night?       ❝ The night life !! ❞ 

               FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS –

Been caught sneaking out?       ❝ It was only one time. I didn’t do it again after that because my mother threatened to stop taking me with her to her bigger parties. In hindsight, I know she was lying, but little me wasn’t taking any chances on missing out . ❞

Fallen down/up the stairs?       ❝ Of course not. Who does something silly like that ?? ❞

     Lulubelle does. Multiple times. Especially while drunk. Nothing quite like a night of celebration to really bring out the idiot in a young, wild heart .

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt?       ❝ I wanted to be free, once. ❞ It was a tender subject. A shame she hadn’t the motivation to explain any further .

Wanted to disappear?       ❝ ... Yeah . ❞

              FOUR PREFERENCES –

Smile or eyes?       ❝ Both! What good’s a sharp smile without a sharp pair of eyes ? ❞

Shorter or Taller?       ❝ Oh, taller... like a protective wall to wrap their arms around you! Or maybe simply intimidate your enemies. ❞ There was something about sheer intimidation and strength that really caught the griffin’s attention. Then again, there was something sweet about the meek and small. ❝ But short is sweet . ❞

Intelligence or Attraction?       ❝ Why not both? I can’t imagine anybody that’s made it all the way to the New World lacking in either . ❞

Hook-up or Relationship?       ❝ Relationship. Duh. But if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll follow you home . ❞

     A playful flick of the tongue, naught more than the tip . 

              FAMILY –

Do you and your family get along?       ❝ Family is everything! It doesn’t matter what kind of family you have or plan to make! Of course we get along !! ❞

Would you say you have a “messed up life”?       ❝ Maybe. But it’s not living if everything feels like an impossible dream made into reality, now is it ? ❞

Have you ever ran away from home?       ❝ I didn’t get very far, ❞ she admits sheepishly. ❝ I came right back home because I got hungry and I was too young to get into any of the night parties by myself . ❞

Have you ever gotten kicked out?       ❝ I had a bar kick me out once because the keep said I was beating up all his patrons, ❞ an exaggerated incredulous look. ❝ It’s not my fault people have egos the size of their over-inflated heads! I make bets, I win, and then their big boy prides get bruised and they start it. I like having a little entertainment while I eat. I just wanna have a little fun!! Is that so bad ?? ❞

     A pause. ❝ Oh? No... my parents would never kick me out. Why do you ask ? ❞

              FRIENDS –

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?       ❝ Why on earth would I hate a friend? Kinda defeats the purpose of a friend, doesn’t it ? ❞

Do you consider all of your friends to be good friends?       ❝ I don’t see why not . ❞

Who is your best friend?       ❝ Salohn. ❞ She tries not to chuckle but does so anyway. ❝ He knows just about everything you could ever know about weapons. I guess he kind of saved me once, too. He was in the navy a lot longer than I was. Really fun guy. Really good tactician, too. People think he’s an idiot because he’s so fun-loving and oblivious but he doesn’t really mess around when it comes to strategy. Haven’t seen him in ages, though. ❞ A curious scratch of the scalp. ❝ I wonder what he’s up to ... ❞

Who knows everything about you?       ❝ My parents. ❞ Possibly. There was a lot of memories being made that she hadn’t had the time to share with anybody. But they knew her better than just about anybody else. ❝ I guess Salohn reads me like a book, too. To be fair though, he reads everybody like a book. That’s kinda just how he is . ❞

[reifromrfa]

Jumin x MC Week 1.4 - On the Line Chapter 4

Prompt: Alternate Universe

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3

Also posted this on fanfiction.net because I realized that the italicized words don’t always come out when you read using your phone so here it is :)

On the Line

A/N: This story is also not historically correct ^^;

Day 4

"Jumin...have you ever been in-love?"

"I have no time for such things."

She giggled. "What a serious person you are, saying you have no time for love."

"It's just," he explained. "I want to prove to the world that I'm not just the son of the infamous Mr. Han. I want my staff to see that I am just as hardworking as them, even more so because I'm supposed to be leading them soon. I am my own person and I did not get to where I am just because my father owns the company."

"But it certainly helped."

Jumin's lips curled up. "Yes, of course. But nevertheless, I don't want to take advantage of that by slacking off or passing off my duties to my staff. I want to be an efficient leader."

"We may have never met personally, but I believe you'll surpass your own expectations and reach for the stars, Jumin Han."

Ba-thump.

He arched his brow. His heart was doing that weird thing again. "Thank you," he replied. "What about you? Have you ever been in-love?"

He wasn't really thinking about what he was saying, he just thought it would be polite to ask as well. But after saying it, Jumin was suddenly burning with curiosity.

MC was quiet at first, but when she answered, her voice sounded so sad that he wanted to pull her to him, to comfort her.

"No...but I'm engaged."

"Oh."

His heart sank.

"But you do not love him?"

"Most certainly not."

"Then why are you marrying him?"

"Why, indeed?" She let out a mirthless laugh before continuing, "Simply put, we are broke. My father cannot afford to maintain this vineyard anymore and he sold me to the highest bidder."

His grip on the phone tightened. "He sold you? MC, I do not believe people can be auctioned off like antiques. Isn’t this illegal?"

“Perhaps it is but what can I do? He’s my father. When he heard that one of the wealthiest businessmen in town had a son, he set a meeting with them as soon as possible. He took me with him, saying he wanted me to learn more about the family business. Before I even had the chance to find out what was going on, he had already set me up on a date with him."

"Is this man reputable, at least?" He didn't know why he was asking this. This was obviously her personal matter, who was he to poke around other people's business? Why did he care so much?

"Hardly. Everybody in town whispers about how handsome he is but he uses his looks to toy with women's emotions. He uses his money to buy pleasure and when he doesn't get what he wants, he uses force."

Jumin closed his eyes in an effort to remain composed.

"It sounds like this man is insane."

"He is."

"You should not marry such a vile man."

She sighed. "If I could escape, I would have. But if I don't marry him, I'm afraid my father will be so desperate that he'll push my other sisters to marry him instead. And I cannot do that to them."

Other sisters.

So MC was protecting her sisters. His respect for her grew but he still wished he could do something to get her out of that situation.

"I wish I can help you," he tells her softly. "I don't like the predicament you're in."

"I knew you were my angel." He could hear the smile in her voice and his heart melted. "I wish I could run away. Maybe I can come work for you instead. Make enough money to support my sisters and hide from our father forever."

"You wouldn't need to work for me, I would have provided you with whatever you needed and ensured your safety."

Jumin froze.

What did he just say?

She laughed.. "That's very thoughtful of you, but I would never impose myself on you."

"No," he said. "I would be deeply offended if you refused my help." And he meant it. Every word he just told her was true --he would be willing to do anything to keep MC safe. He found it odd that he felt so strongly about someone he's never met before, but everything about their current situation was not normal.

“Thank you, Jumin. That means a lot to me. I…We’ve never met and we don’t owe each other anything, but I feel as though I’ve known you my entire life.”

“As do I.”

For a moment, they were both silent, each deep in thought. Jumin’s mind was a mess, the threads in his mind intertwining with the rest that he now has an intricate disaster inside his head. His emotions, however, were worse. He didn’t understand anything that was happening to him right now. He was intrigued and curious about this situation with MC. He silently seethed about her having to marry such a dishonest and loathsome cockroach man. He wanted to make her happy, just so he could hear her laughter one more time. He wanted to keep her safe and make sure the sadness vanished from her eyes and from her heart.

“Are you always this nice to strangers?”

“Not really. But you’re no stranger to me, we’ve known each other our entire lives, no?”

She laughed and Jumin grinned, wanting nothing more than to see her laughing right at that very moment.

“You’re funny, Jumin.”

She thought he was funny!

“It’s one of my special talents,” he said, knowing full well that if V heard him saying that, his best friend would have strongly disagreed.

MC giggled. Jumin was the only one who could make her smile these days, his deep voice the only one that brought her comfort and allowed her to sleep at night. She wished she could see him but she had no idea how he would be able to send his photo to the past. Still, MC was thankful that she could at least talk to him.

Her angel.

“Tell me about your family.” MC said, turning to her side and pulling her blanket closer to her body. She wanted to know everything about him, what kind of a person her angel was. She already knew he was nice and funny. But what else lay behind that deep voice of his?

“My family? There’s not much to know. My father and mother are divorced and currently, I’m living with my father. I respect him very much and I’d like to think we are similar to normal fathers and sons. He…he’s a bit of a womanizer, but I love my father dearly. I don’t have any siblings and very few I can consider my true friends. I guess you can say that my family consists of my father, Elizabeth the 3rd, and my best friend V.”

“I’m sorry, but what’s a divorce?”

“Oh…I guess it’s not legal yet in your time. A divorce is when a married couple decide to dissolve their marriage.”

“Dissolve their marriage?” MC asked, her breath catching. “Why would anyone want to do that?”

“Who knows? Perhaps they weren’t suited for each other? They fell out of love? I’m not sure.”

“That sounds awful.” MC replied, feeling sad. The future suddenly seemed like a lonely place to live if people created things such as divorces. “Jumin, promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“When you get married someday, promise me you’ll never get a divorce.”

She heard his light chuckle and her heart skipped a beat. MC bit her lip, holding onto the phone tightly as she waited for his reply.

“I doubt I’ll ever get married but if I do, I promise I won’t get a divorce.”

MC let out the breath she was holding. “That’s good. Thank you, Jumin.”

“What an odd request, MC. I’ve had people ask me for a lot of things, but no one’s ever asked me to promise not to get a divorce.”

“It’s just,” MC stated, twirling the cord around her fingers. “I believe that people should marry for love. And if things ever get bad in a marriage, then shouldn’t the couple fix it instead of abandoning each other?”

“Things don’t work like that anymore, I guess.”

“The future seems so bleak.”

Jumin laughs again. “It’s not that bad. I wish you could be here so I could show you all the good points of the future.”

“Oh? The busy owner of C&R will take time off to give me a tour of the future? I’m very honored, Mr. Han.”

“I will make an exception for you, MC, because you laugh at all my jokes.”

“Why? Do people not laugh at your jokes?”

“They say my jokes are not funny. Or perhaps they find it awkward when their boss jokes around with them.”

MC laughed. “I’ll laugh at all your jokes if you promise to take me around in those flying cars you use.”

Jumin lets out a genuine laugh and MC smiles. His laugh sounded so nice. It made her want to see him in person and see him laughing so she could keep that memory of him inside her head forever.

“Flying cars haven’t been invented yet. If you wish, I could take you around in my private jet or a helicopter.”

“You could take me around riding a horse and I wouldn’t care. We could even walk, I wouldn’t mind either.”

“Horses? Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“I should tell my assistant to research about the farms in the country.”

MC giggled. This man…was her ray of sunshine.

“But…”

MC repositioned herself on the bed, transferring the phone to her other ear.

“…if you believe people should marry for love, then I suggest you have a talk with your father about your marriage with that man. You will not be able to divorce him, MC. It will be a life sentence with him once you say I do.”

Her smile disappeared and her heart clenched. “Jumin, it’s not that easy.”

“If your father loves you, he will understand. You must try.”

She has tried. MC had already pleaded with her father but his solution was to offer her younger sister and MC couldn’t allow that to happen. But surely must love them, right? Surely he loves his daughters. She thought of her father’s smile as he taught her how to ride a horse and how to choose the best grapes. Maybe he would understand. She knew he only feared about not having enough money to feed her and her sisters. Maybe there was another way.

But she also remembered the look in Hong Chul’s eyes whenever he looks at her and she shuddered.

“I…I’ll try, Jumin. Honestly, I’m more afraid of Hong Chul.”

“Hong Chul?”

“My—"

Before MC could continue, she heard the door across the hallway opening. If her father catches her talking to a man on the phone, she would lose all chances of him listening to her.

“Jumin, I need to go.”

“Is everything alright?"

“Yes. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He seemed to hesitate, but only said, “Okay. Tomorrow, then. Goodnight, MC.”

“Goodnight, Jumin.”

MC put down the phone quietly and got under the blanket as fast as she could, closing her eyes and pretending to be sleep as the footsteps got closer. The door opened and she heard the heavy footsteps of her father entering the room and making his way towards her. She tried to even out her breathing and relax, hoping he wouldn’t realize that the lights were still on.

MC could feel him standing close to her bed silently. It went on for a minute before she heard him speak.

“My dear MC…I’m so sorry.”

And then just like that, he left, closing the door behind him and leaving a string of questions inside MC’s mind.

1  |  2  |  3  |  x  |  5  |  6  |  7  |  8  |  9  |  Soon?

Buy me a Mango Shake? ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

[esseastri]

Megan Reads Oathbringer (part 6)

tfw you go to work halfway through a liveblog post. not a good feel.

Part 6 encompasses pages 394-476 (previous parts)

Okay, sleep is good, but it’s back to my boys time.

Only Dalinar would consider healing himself in a vision “cheating”

I’M SO EXCITED FOR DALINAR’S OTHER SURGE

let’s get some new magic up in here

“Welcome to my madness, ladies.” DALINAR PLEASE, that’s the most ridiculous greeting ever.

Navani getting all overly excited about an ancient fabrial is delightful. She’s like a kid on Christmas. Though if this leads to her figuring out the design and getting lil Regrowth machines out into the world so people can heal, that would be magnificent. And seems like exactly the thing she’d be planning on doing.

THERE WAS A TEARFUL MOTHER-DAUGHTER REUNION!! THERE WAS ONE!! I’VE BEEN ROBBED

I genuinely love how every time Dalinar orders the Stormfather to do something, he’s like “wtf dude, no I don’t take orders from you” but he does it anyway.

sooo..most of the time when a Radiant dies, their spren dies, too. But the Stormfather was actually...enchanced? by Honor’s death. Obviously, Honor isn’t a Radiant, and I get the feeling that the Stormfather wasn’t his spren, but there’s a certain similarity in that they were clearly connected in some way--if they weren’t, why would his death affect the Stormfather at all? So why did the spren memory loss thing work the opposite way for the Stormfather--that he was fuzzy and forgotten while his connected being was alive, and more sure of himself now that Honor is dead?

“Dalinar squinted, but he still couldn’t make out which were human and which were not.” I feel like that says something, doesn’t it? If you can’t tell the humans from the parshmen? the maybe you’re not so different after all? Maybe you all die the same way, you all bleed and fight and die the same way. And maybe the things you’re fighting for are different, but there’s something to be said for looking at things from a different point of view.

oooohhh honey, is that what they told you? That the Heralds ascended to the Tranquiline Halls? God, humans so want to believe the best of people--as a general rule, we are an optimistic race. We want to believe things will get better or people won’t disappoint us. The betrayal of the Heralds wasn’t even a thing they could comprehend. Why would their gods abandon them? Surely, it was because they’d earned a better afterlife, not because they were tired of being tortured and just...walked away.

I’m emotional about the surprising resilience of humanity, but also of the marvelous ways humans lie to themselves to make themselves feel better.

I’m also emotional about the Heralds. That’s a constant thing though, sort of goes without saying.

ARE WE ACTUALLY GETTING INFO ABOUT THE HERALDS!!!!!?? AAAHHHHHH WHAT

FINALLY

Wait, are you telling me that the Desolations--all of them--were started by vengeful, angry ghosts????

vengeful, angry Parshendi ghosts.

that’s...marvelous.

OOHHHHHHHH

THIS IS MY SHIT THIS IS MY JAM. TEN PEOPLE PUTTING THEMSELVES IN HELL TO SAVE EVERYONE ELSE AAHH THESE PEOPLE

strong, selfless, sacrificing people

who got tired. and fucked up. and broke. and I’m

goooddddd this is MY SHIT THIS IS MY FAVORITE GIMME THIS WHOLE NOVEL AAAAHHH

AND THEN THEY WENT BACK KNOWINGLY KNOWING WHAT WAS WAITING FOR THEM THEY WENT BACK AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN WILLINGLY KNOWINGLY I”M

I AM EMOTIONAL ABOUT THE HERALDS

also the Stormfather slowly gaining humanity/perspective on humanity is a beautiful thing to witness. Like, yeah, we got it with Syl and Pattern and will with other spren, I’m sure, but it’s wild to see it in the soul of a storm.

HE WASN’T EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE THERE HE WASN’T A KING HE WASN’T ANYONE SPECIAL HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE AND HE WAS THE STRONGEST OF THEM AND HE NEVER BROKE HE NEVER GAVE IN AND HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE AND I”M

TALN

TAAAAAALLNNNN

I’M CRYING

I”M C R Y I N G

I AM UPSET ABOUT THE HERALDS

FOUR AND A HALF THOUSAND YEARS

(also that’s a lord of the rings reference I never noticed before, good job)

oohh shiiiiiittttt. they are reborn literally every nine days how the hell do you fight that

haaa um. the letter in the epigraphs--”it was agreed that no two Shards should settle in the same place”--my dude...you’ve got a limited number of inhabitable planets in this system. hate to break it to you, but... y’all were gonna end up in the same places. ..

“Everyone who might have been able to help us is crazy, dead, a traitor, or some combination of all three. Figures.” 1. Kaladin pls. 2. No, they can’t be dead. that’s too convenient. and also if they’d died before Taln escaped, he would have had someone there to help bear the torture burden and maybe wouldn’t have broken? Or...maybe I’m assuming Taln is stronger than he was there at the end.

Also, Kaladin, you don’t get to be self-righteous about the Heralds. I know you suffered and were tortured and survived with your oaths intact, but you almost didn’t--you reaaaally almost didn’t--and your tortures weren’t nearly as bad as theirs.

“Maybe that should make you reconsider those other wars, rather than using them to justify this one.” GET REKT, DALINAR. GOD, WHAT AN IMPORTANT LINE.

See, Shallan, that’s the beauty of Kaladin. He doesn’t consider whether or not something is “the sort of thing you say to the Blackthorn.” He knows what’s right, or what should be right, and he knows what needs to be said, and he frikkin says it. That’s one of the marvelous things about him--it’s not that he doesn’t care about the consequences, it’s that the consequences of him not speaking are worse. Because if he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t have a chance to change minds or hearts at all.

“You, three of your men, the king, and Adolin.” GOD BLESS THIS ROADTRIP

MMMMMMM YEAH NOPE

No wonder Jasnah and Taravangian got along so well; they have the same world philosophy. Murder a few people on the off chance that that might stop everyone else from dying.

Pragmatic, but ultimately horrible. And probably ineffective. The Heralds already broke. There was only a single year between the last two Desolations. It is highly likely that they any of them did go back now, they would simply break immediately and you’d have the same problem right away.

Usually, Jasnah has good ideas, but this is just. stupid.

ALSO THE FACT THAT HER ONLY OTHER SUGGESTION IS GENOCIDE OF THE PARSHENDI IS REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE. COME ON, JASNAH, YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT.

Listen, I don’t think Jasnah counts as a really good therapist, but at least she’s...trying? to help Shallan? Shallan really needs a therapist.

“Is there a solution?” “I don’t know.” “Perhaps...act like an adult?” Amen, Pattern. Aaaaaamen.

Here’s the thing: I fully 100% understand that Shallan is a sheltered, frightened, PTSD, abused child who can’t confront her problems and therefore hides in various identities because it’s safe there. The problem is that this is the end of the world. Nothing is safe. And acting petulant because you want to sketch in a corner and hide and the big adults are forcing you to help save the world? Not an endearing quality.

I know she has panic attacks whenever she thinks about confronting her problems, and panic attacks suck ass, but you need to work through them? At some point, if you really hate yourself that much, you have to stand up and decide to change? Decide to be better. Shallan has said several times that she hates herself and she wants to change, but she refuses to actually do that. And yeah, it’s fucking hard, but there comes a point when you just have to grow up.

~*~unpopular Shallan opinions with Megan~*~

“Was she perhaps simply not interested?” Ace!Jasnah #confirmed. haha

Okay but like...Jasnah would never train you to be only a “mousy scribe” like...what the fuck, Shallan.

oh of course. Skybreaker...

Okay, so there’s the Sons of Honor--now Amaram’s domain. The Ghostbloods. The Diagram. Hello Darkness My Old Friend’s Skybreakers--which we know from Edgedancer were working on Ishar’s orders. The listeners and the parshmen. And us. the New Radiants. That’s.....a lot of groups with very conflicted purposes and goals.

Someone else in Amaram’s army was close to bonding a spren? and Hello Darkness took them out... Was that the other voice Syl was talking about? the first person she heard? who the heck was it.

“How long will Shallan go before she remembers we’re here?” Aw, Gaz, it’s like you think she cares about you guys.

I AM FREE FROM WORK AAHHH

going to work for 8 hours mid-liveblog just sucks y’all. Anyway. On we go!

“Teft woke up. Unfortunately.” I KNOW THE FEELING, MY DUDE

also good finally please tell me what my boy has been up to/where he’s been disappearing off to

......why this

we didn’t need a drug addiction subplot. why this.

also OOH HE HAS A SPREN? What type. It’s automatic to assume Windrunner, but what if it’s not?

WELL, I’M GLAD KALADIN AND ROCK FOUND HIM wtf we didn’t need this aargghhhh

We’re...really not going to get Azir, are we? I mean. that litany of what the Sunmaker did to them...I’m not freaking surprised that they don’t trust the Alethi. I wouldn’t. That’s horrible.

Dalinar has a point about living long enough to see his consequences though. And he’s actually doing a pretty good job of owning up to his mistakes and dealing with his consequences.

Probably wouldn’t hurt to, like...apologize to Azir though.

OMG LIFT HI

HI BBY GIRL I LOVE YOU

how the heck did she get in here though? is this some of her connected-to-the-cognitive-realm stuff?

pfff Gawx just being so excited to see her thas cuuutte. Besties 5evar.

OOHHH THE ART IN THE BUBBLE IT’S GOT THE PATCH RIPPED OFF

OHHHHHH OOOOOOHHH OOOOH MY BOY. MY MOASH. AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he’s alive I’m

aaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

pfft “stew”. nothing will ever live up to Rock’s, I’m sure.

oh wait shit okay

I did not remember that Moash’s king-killing friends were Diagram peeps...I’m assuming we knew that in WoR but I did not remember and that’s... Why would Taravangian want to kill Elhokar? That wouldn’t do much to destabilize anything--that would just put Dalinar more firmly in charge... hm.

unless Taravangian wants Dalinar in charge because he know Dalinar trusts him... dangit. okay.

MEANWHILE I”M UPSET ABOUT MOASH

at least he didn’t throw the patch away. he can sew it back on when he comes back

OH GOD HE’S IMAGINING THEM BEIN HAPPY WITHOUT HIM AND I’M SAD? HE MISSES THEM SO MUCH

AAAAAHHHHHHH

n ooooo he didn’t tell them he didn’t want them to hate you it’s okay just...come hoooommmeee

OH SHIT NO NOT FUSED COME ON

LET HIM LIVE

I S2G

HE GOT A SPEAR OKAY HE’S GOT THIS HE’S THE BEST THEY HAD OH GOSH OKAY

COME ON, MOASH, YOU GOT THIS

“BRIDGE FOUR, BASTARDS” THAT’S MY BOY

IS HE GONNA BE OKAY

WHERE ARE THEY TAKING HIM

WHY ARE THEY TAKING HIM

STOP THEM FROM TAKING HIM

LET HIM COME HOME

I”M CRYING STOP PUT HIM BACK LET HIM COME HOME I MISS HIM

I legit thought he was going to kill Moash, I was ready to drive back to Utah, I WAS READY TO YELL AT PEOPLE OH GOSH

huh. art page: why are the sails on the bottom? Are these air ships? stick the sails into a highstorm, let it push you along on the winds? that...would be dangerous but REALLY COOL?

“Red, stop trying to make deevy a thing, it’s not gonna be a thing.”

it’s like groovy but worse sounding

so when is Ishnah, the espionage lesbian, going to call Shallan’s bluff?

Sorry, Veil’s bluff.

I feel like Shallan’s plotline in this book is just that Onion headline that’s like, “Area [wo]man thought breakdown would be more obvious”

I love Shallan being jealous and suspicious of Adolin’s flames, but Janala isn’t the one you gotta worry about. Danlan’s the one in the Ghostbloods. Ghostbloods? Diagram? shit, I’ve forgotten which evil organization she’s in... or if it even matters. She hasn’t shown up again, has she?

idk, Jasnah, Shallan was justified this time. Anyone making fun of Renarin definitely deserves the Sarcasm Bludgeon.

But Shallan, you weren’t invited on the boys road trip.

though, tbh, that could be fun...

BUT KALADIN JUST LEFT REVOLAR. MOASH JUST ARRIVED OR WAS DRAGGED WHATEVER BUT KALADIN JUST LEFT. THEY COULD HAVE SEEN EACH OTHER, KALADIN COULD HAVE HELPED HIM ESCAPE, HE COULD HAVE COME HOME.

ARRGGHH

“They had no reason to obey the lighteyes. They had no power, no authority.” That’s the problem with tradition. With having something so societially ingrained that you can never shake it, because you don’t think to try.

Moash no. don’t... don’t run yourself into the ground pulling wagons, please, darling, just... don’t die. Don’t give up. Stand your ground, find a way, come home

the letter in the epigraph: “Rayse is contained and we care not fot his prison.” yeah, uh...you gotta....you gotta do maintenance at the very least...to make sure he stays in prison? like...just...check the locks every once in a while? idk. this seems like it might be your fault if he escapes...

Sigzil being scientific and doing tests on them all is still so endearing. I love him.

Also poor Skar. let the man get his squire on, pls.

also, someone who can draw, please, please do an art of Rock doing the “Horneater victory dance” and skipping through a field of wildflowers and butterflies. Please. This is important art.

they still leave a hole in the conference circle for Moash, and hi this is my ghost I’m dead now bye

god, Kaladin would make them do squad formations in the air. Is there a goose-migration vee formation?

SKAR IS A GOOD. A GOOD TEACHER AND A GOOD GLOWING PERSON AAHH

Hey, guys, did you know I love Bridge Four?

[junker-town]

No sports, no fun

Getty Images

Good bye, maybe.

I’m afraid I won’t ever feel again the way I did on Nov. 4, 2000, when I was not yet 13 years old and the pain was new and all-consuming. I loved sports so much it hurt, and that love bore bitter fruit when Anthony Thomas fumbled a football for no good reason, and Michigan lost to Northwestern, 54-51, in the most stunning game I can remember.

I couldn’t question the feeling, nor did I think it could be questioned; my amygdala pulled its trigger and I buried my face as deeply as I could into our cold, wave-patterned couch in the next room. My shock even erased the memory of the steps I took. I remember the twin feelings of a cold couch on my face and injustice. Or maybe not quite injustice, but something unfair. It didn’t feel targeted. For the first time maybe, I felt impersonal, unmotivated and heavy cruelty.

Thomas was a football player of mythic proportions, a torso of concrete and legs made thick just from making sure his upper half didn’t topple over. He was marvelous, and at all times mildly disappointing, a perfect picture of inefficient smashmouth football just before the sport discovered better ideas. Thomas carried the ball 37 times for 199 yards, but he was outdone by Damien Anderson, who rushed for 268 yards on 31 carries in a Randy Walker offense that was one of the first examples of spread football on a big stage.

That game would come to be known as one of the most influential in college football history because of the way an underpowered team shocked another team of Thomas-ian proportions. But lost in the final score is the way Thomas fumbled. He broke through the line for what should have been a game-winning first down, then he simply dropped the ball.

There was and is nothing to be learned from that. The whole was instructive; the details were not. Michigan would have won but Thomas dropped the ball, and then I hurt and I couldn’t make it stop.

I obsessed over that play. At the time, I obsessed over every aspect of Michigan football. I remember falling asleep thinking about Michigan’s ongoing high school recruiting class, its deficiencies and how the current commitments might shape the team. I used to take a football out to our front lawn and play out the upcoming games drive by drive, hucking the ball up in the air and running under it to make a big catch. If I was feeling generous, I’d give the opposition a rare interception. On a related note, I was a pretty lonely kid.

Before I developed a better relationship with sports, I approached them almost exclusively as something my team either won or lost. I decided I ought to take them very seriously, to the extent that everyone should think of me as a person who knew sports. I wanted to have the best answer to every question; I wanted to be a vessel of knowledge that others would rather submit to than challenge.

At the time, it seemed like a hobby. Now I know I was compensating for being a pipsqueak in every other regard. The problem, either way, was how much I had staked my confidence in being right.

In college, I took an internship at a fantasy sports website and learned how dumb I was. I found out there are people who seem to know every bit about everything — things like baseball — who could not only hold a greater mass of information in their brains than me, but could also do so without being an uptight dick about it.

What I should have learned was that caring about things intrinsically, and not for egotistical reasons, opens up our capacity to both know and love more about the world. Instead, I felt like I was drowning, like every moment more evidence was piling on top of me about what a fraud I was, faster than I could claw from under it.

I wondered if I could say I loved sports like I used to, or if I ever loved them to begin with. That period showed me a couple things: 1) That I could bull shit anything in writing, and 2) maybe I should readjust my relationship with sports.

I never stopped wanting to be a sportswriter, which I’ve wanted to be my whole life. But I also picked up a knack for editing, the process of turning your first thought into your best thought, of shaping and shielding and censoring an unvarnished self. That unvarnished self was often a truer self, perhaps. But it didn’t sing, and it never won.

I consider SB Nation my first real job, though when I started it only paid $1 more per hour than the fantasy gig. The difference was at SB Nation I saw a path to who I newly wanted to be. Which is to say, I started chasing a sense of superiority on moral grounds.

Working at SB Nation has never not been exciting, but my first and maybe last thrill was getting to say I worked with Spencer Hall. He’d become my favorite writer by crafting guttingly funny and guttingly poignant things about college football. A universe unfolded out of EDSBS.com, one that was weird and empathetic and antagonistic towards the capital-S Sportswriter lens and voice. Reading him gave me a physical sensation like my belly was made of splintered wood and a family of feral critters was tearing through, and that I ought to be happy for them.

I’ve read Spencer’s 2011 essay GOD’S AWAY ON BUSINESS dozens of times now and it never fails to scare the shit out of me.

None of this matters now. The man or woman in the desk is gone. They will not be returning anytime soon. Outside there are men roaming the streets. No one’s wondering who’s in charge, and that’s why the doors are locked, and the children inside quivering. When the desk is empty, it means anarchy is at your door. There are no permissions or courtesies. Shit just happens, and it happens all the time, and there’s no stopping it until everything you have is gone and bouncing out the door on the shoulders of thieves.

God, or anyone like him, is away on business.

I started aping Spencer then, and I’m still aping him now, though I feel more like myself. Mimic something long enough and you might accidentally discover some of the substance that makes the aesthetic work.

SB Nation taught me a better way to love sports. That what is true and good wasn’t in the results — on the field, or off where discourse boiled down to soggy debate — but in the ephemera. It was in baseball players taking pitches right to the beans.

SB Nation was dedicated to silliness and inclusivity. It highlighted the good people that sports elevated on rare occasions. It never fought along the chauvinistic battle lines that can feel like a mandatory part of fandom; in fact, it emphatically ignored them. And yet even after a decade-plus of existence, people still get upset when we suggest sports don’t have to be experienced in rote, tribalistic ways. Typically all you have to do is check the replies.

We never stated this mission very clearly, which has always kinda been a problem. Probably the problem. But if you paid attention, you saw it reiterated in countless ways. (Just click a letter, and note that none of these people work here anymore.) GOD’S AWAY ON BUSINESS was my value set among the many options, however. It told me that what we love most sometimes isn’t scored; that everyone has a responsibility to define and find joy for themselves, even if it may be outside the rules; and that to invest oneself in wonder and silliness also means taking on the duty to defend them.

At SB Nation I learned I didn’t have to identify by sports. I could have a relationship with them, I could be objective towards them, and I could turn them off. I learned that I have a self outside of what I like.

Working here has forced me to look back and figure out what I truly loved about sports. So far I’ve found two things: Charles Woodson, and the way sports helped a shy kid introduce himself. For me, sports’ best utility has been the way they facilitate genuine connection. Which is almost funny, because we know now the extent that sports are artificial by how easily they’ve disappeared.

But to know that sports have had some importance in one’s life is proof they can’t be trivial. They are real in the fact that we choose to empower them. The score has never mattered. Sports live because we give them life.

I don’t always feel good about that fact. Although I’ve come to terms with being mildly stupid, and I’ve gotten better at appreciating things intrinsically, I still often hate that sports are integral to me and that I’ll leave this mortal coil defined by something that never gave me agency.

There’s an image I’ll never shake. My last visit with my grandfather as he lay on the bed he’d die on. He was person I’ve perhaps wanted to emulate most in this world. A French history professor. The funniest, most considerate person I knew. He made everyone feel heard. I said this at his funeral:

He always paused before he laughed, turning over what you said and taking even the bad jokes and finding their point of redemption. Funny enough, this was a sign that he took you seriously, that he thought what you said mattered, even if you were five years old and nothing you had ever said to that point had ever been important. And because he laughed with you, you couldn’t help but laugh along side.

Just a month or two before I saw him among his final days, prostrate, suffering terribly from dementia and barely able to speak. He no longer embodied the self he had curated over 85 years. I talked to him about Michigan football because that had been the thing we talked about the most. He responded only in smiles and hmphs. I didn’t know if he retained anything I said until I started to leave the room. He said the last words I’d ever hear him say: “Go Blue.”

The image that haunts me isn’t my grandfather: Every memory of him makes me love him more, and I’m more grateful than words can say that in our last interaction we felt connected and happy.

Rather it’s my imagination, seeing myself dissolved layer by layer, body and soul disappearing. What would be left in a reduction of my experiences, love, regrets and relationships that I cultivated or destroyed? It might be sports’ afterimage, an outline of Anthony Thomas.

I feel sports’ absence. Maybe I’ve become accustomed to a constant hum of play, or maybe this pandemic has, in a terrible roundabout way, helped us see what is intrinsic.

But I do miss sports, even if that feeling is a byproduct of muscle memory. I miss fun, and sports have been the best outlet I’ve even known to find it. I’ve had a hard time not seeing this period as an attack on fun, that, more and more, the world is becoming something I don’t want to go back to: stodgy and bitter, a self-perpetuating game to see who’s winning at any moment. It feels like there’s no room left to be quiet and gentle.

I don’t know when fun will come back, and it feels fair to ask if it can. There has never been a good answer whether dumb anger is simply the natural state of things, or something we’ve reinforced on one another. There’s only the imprint that anger has left, deep with slippery walls.

The only thing I know is we all want to belong; that at the root of every fight is ostensibly the same impetus — to be full of love and free of worry once again, to feel complete and want for nothing. We just can’t agree on terms.

But I believe there is a healthy definition of belonging. One that does not subsume you, but lets you position yourself amongst the world, and create your own space as opposed to being dictated its rules. A way of editing that doesn’t entrench self, but amplifies it.

The end of the world is demanding, but we have options. And when I close my eyes, I can still see the world I want.

[theotomewriter]

And So Shall He - Unknown (One-Shot)

A/N: Ahh it’s been a while since I last posted a fic up! I’m fairly nervous and excited but this was in my drafts for a long, long time and I’m glad I finished it!~ I hope you guys enjoy it and I’ll leave the rest of my thoughts/notes at the bottom of the story c;

[Also! Do take note that this fic is somewhat like an “alternate secret end/story” and thus, if you either haven’t read the secret ends yet or dislike any sort of tiny hints or spoilers, I’d recommend not reading this! ;v;) ]  

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Character death.

04. Fulfillment.

A powerful rush of emotions coursed through him he watched his brother’s body slowly go limp; The way his lips turned pale, eyes closing and his breathing eventually coming to a stop. There were no words that could describe how Saeran felt because the moment he had been waiting for for nearly 5 fucking years was finally here. He finally avenged his ownself, finally ended the life of his wretched brother who had the damn audacity to spit out words like “I love you” and “We will always be together”.

Bullshit. Bullshit. 

So much fucking bullshit.

If he really loved him, he would never have left him in the hands of their abusive, drunken mother; If he truly wanted to be together forever, he would never have left him all alone in this horrible, disgusting world to rot.

Saeyoung was once his everything— his saving grace. The light in this dark world and the one who would give him the faintest sight of hope but now… He was nothing but a heartless, selfish liar. A filthy part of him that he wanted to get rid of forever.

“You can’t hurt me anymore, brother.” He whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared at the lifeless body. 

You can’t hurt me now. 

03. Dissatisfaction

He was supposed to feel complete, fulfilled, powerful even but why… Why did he still feel empty? Where did he go wrong again…?

As Saeran slammed his hands against the desk, he gritted his teeth with anger and frustration. He wanted to finally be at peace, feel the weight from his shoulders disappear and  be free from the pain that Saeyoung gave him but why… Why did everything feel even heavier now that he was gone? Why did it feel like his life was more of a disgusting wreck than it ever was before?  

Why did it feel like it was he who lost?

“Maybe… Maybe I shouldn’t have killed you.. Maybe that was the wrong choice. I should have tortured you instead, kept you in my grip.. Maybe I’m feeling this way because you… No, no.”

No.

It was the right choice. What was he thinking? Saeyoung, that vile brothe— no, monster, was meant to die from the start. This was how it was all supposed to go down and he was going to be happy with it. 

“Yes, happy… I’m… Happy…”

I am happy. 

I am happy. 

i am happy.

I am not happy. 

02. Desolation.

Saeran stared at the ceiling quietly, his mind hazy and blank. It’s been exactly 40 days, 21 hours and 3 minutes since his brother’s death and yet, still nothing.

No feelings of the happiness and freedom he craved creeping up into his soul; only a strange feeling of.. What? Guilt? Annoyance? Emptiness? Sadness? But what was there to be sad about? He did what he had to. He finally fulfilled his life goal of causing the same pain he went through to his beloved Saeyoung but…

“It hurts…” He muttered bitterly, hand gripping his chest tightly. “But why? I did everything I needed to… I killed him and I hurt him and I… I… Why… Why does it still hurt…?!”

In a feat of sudden anger and frustration, he threw his things onto the ground and stood up; his hands gripping his hair tightly. He couldn’t comprehend why he wasn’t feeling that joy he so longed for, he couldn’t understand why Saeyoung’s death only brought him more pain.

Saeran couldn’t understand why after all this time, he still longed for his dead brother’s love.

“Why. Why, why, why, wHY, WHY?!” His loud, painful screams resonated within the silent room as he collapsed onto the floor, his body instantly curling into a ball. Saeran wrapped his shaky arms around his legs as hopeless cries left his lips.

“Why did you have to leave me back then…? Why didn’t you come back..? Why…?”

You are still free and I’m still not. 

I’m still bound to you.

Like I always have been.

01. Void.

Saeran didn’t know what to call this feeling; he didn’t know whether this was the feeling called “acceptance” or whether this was him realizing that he was just… Empty.

He remembered hearing or reading that everyone is alive for a reason and that they were all special and loved but could he still be considered a human when he murdered his own beloved brother in cold blood? Could he still say he has lived when he was never alive to begin with? And special… How could he be ‘special’ when that word was never in his vocabulary to begin with?

The notion of being ‘special’ was simply reserved for the people who were talented and different.

The idea of being “alive” was for the people who truly fought and lived.

The word “love” was for the ones who had a soul and a heart.

Those words, those thoughts and ideas… they weren’t for everyone. They were for the ones who roamed this earth with a zest in their step and a glint in their eye. It wasn’t for people like him. It never was.

Unlike others, Saeran was damned the day he was born because the thought of being special was just another fleeting dream; the hope of being alive was just a fairytale and as for love… Love was the genuine smile on his brother’s face at 2am when he secretly fed him. Love was his brother patching him up after their mother had beaten the living hell out of him. Love was his one and only brother but now, love was gone.

Love was already slowly withering away the day his brother walked away but love was truly gone the second Saeyoung let out his last breath.

Saeran was damned to hell the day he killed his brother because love was the only thing going for him but now, love is gone. And so shall he.

A/N: Wow! What a feeltrip that was! ;v;)/ Let me first apologize for writing such a morbid fic lmfao I think this idea first stemmed from a group chat I was/am in but I doubt anyone really thought I’d actually do it haha! It was just an idea that stuck to me and thus, I couldn’t help but write it out in the end. ;;;

And also, I decided to make the ending pretty ambigious in the sense that the sentence, “And so shall he” can be taken in either a figurative or literal way. It’s really up to you and how you’d like to interpret it! is it bad I’m hoping that some people would either write in the tags or reblog+reply on what they interpret it as fudhskjfdd

[beanjuice-duh]

Fly me to the Moon

[Previously...] a/n: LAST PART (on tumblr) the rest of this will be on my ao3 which I will post the link to. THANK YOU TO ALL WHO ENJOYED MY TRASH WRITING. I’m a happy bean. Next time I update it will be an ao3 link! Summary: Christmas came early to the De La Vega household. Usnavi is mildly wondering if it’s too late to send it back Warning: Depressing thoughts, hints of anxiety, angst, rejection taggies: @hell-yes-puns-and-ships (also credit for beta’ing <3 ) w/c: 2830

Usnavi didn’t have time to process it all. All of the sudden he was being held, by warm, strong arms. He was like a decrepit house; held up by two strong support beams. The only things keeping his abandoned, hollowed frame from falling apart. He was...really crumbling down. It was only a matter of time. He had these bouts of emotions. A hurricane of emotions that rattled at the frame he worked to keep up. The frame of a business owner who smiled at every customer. The frame of a friend, of a big brother, all of that framework just to keep his shaky foundation from crashing down on top of him.

“Hey…” Johan didn’t even get a chance to put his things down. Usnavi dove into his arms and held on with all his way as if his life depended on it. Johan carefully stepped into the apartment, his cold body warmed by the sudden embrace. Without taking off his coat, he held Usnavi close and allowed him to cry out as long as he wanted. His body was like a rock in his arms. Johan could tell Usnavi was trying so hard to keep it in. He could feel his muscles constrict as if he was literally fighting his own sorrow to stay just below his surface. Helplessly unaware why Usnavi was so painfully distraught all Johan could do was offer him a simple promise.

Very delicately he pressed his lips against the top of Usnavi’s head and whispered, “I’m here for you.”

He was, Usnavi never felt more certain words ever said to him. Johan was literally here for him. Tangible. Real. This was no dream. He pressed his face against the puffy exterior of his coat and inhaled softly. Slowly that tense body started to soften in Johan’s arms, tears began to roll down his cheeks in silence. The hurricane of emotions was subsiding. The framework of Usnavi’s psyche stood firm as he allowed himself to bask in the warmth that came after the storm.

The silence droned on for a moment. Then realization quickly came after, reality, responsibility, logic. “Johan, what are you doing in New York?” It was the holidays, and just a day or so ago he had messaged Johan who was seemingly back in California. Usnavi felt nothing but confusion, though in the pit of some dusty, lost vast of hope...he wondered.

Johan’s eyes got wide. It dawned on him, like it usually did, after his reckless actions what he had really done. He had flown across the country to Usnavi to say what...exactly? He didn’t plan this out and did not plan to get this sort of reaction when he first arrived. Johan looked for a good cover up, an impeccably acceptable lie that wouldn’t make him out to be such a freak. He opened his mouth and the truth bubbled out violently before he could reel himself in. “I was worried about you.”

Ah.

Usnavi felt his heart take a few horse like gallop against his chest. He jockeyed his emotions trying to keep himself in the ‘safe’ line unaware the finish line could end with a victory or a crippling disappointment. “W-Worried huh…” Usnavi suddenly got up and made his way to the kitchen. Something, he needed something in his hands to take his mind off it all. In the sink there was only the coffee press he had been meaning to clean from this morning. Perfect tool to cope with emotions. Nervously, he began to take the press apart and scrub the individual pieces. The methodical scrubbing did well to distract him, keep his mind in line while he formulated his plan.

Ah. Johan was left alone on the couch to explain himself. He ran his hand through his hair, shaking off the wet, crystalline snowflakes that hadn’t melted off upon contact. “Well...it's just, Sonny is away and you...uh..” He toyed with the zipper of his coat. Softly deciding to shed it since his body was slowly overheating as is. “I remember you told me that December isn’t the best time for you…” He remembered. Usnavi felt the sponge loosen in his grasp. He held it under the running water then slowly he as if reminding himself, he squeezed the suds and began to massage the sponge against the dirty coffee pot. “I-It's the anniversary of my parents’ death yea…” he tried to play it off like he was over it. But simply pretending he was over it made his tongue hang limp with bitterness. “I’m fine. Fine.” He smiled, he made the mistake of looking up from the sink. Johan was standing, those concerned brown eyes bore into him.

Slowly with angled precision those eyes broke down that business man smile of his into nothing. His lips were set back into a small frown. “Usnavi…”

“Look, I don’t expect you to get it. But my parents, they were sick. So they died one after the other, it was years ago.” Usnavi shook his head and focused on the rhythmic lapping of the hot water against the sink. His fingers reddening from the blazing water but he couldn’t feel a thing. The only thing he felt was a bitter after taste every word left on his tongue. “I’m a grown man. I’m fine, I don’t know why you came all this way. It’s…” Weird. He wanted to say weird but it didn’t feel weird. It was weird no doubt but this didn’t feel strange. New perhaps, but far from strange.

The running water between them was the only thing that broke their silence, the elephant in the room was still there. Neither of them wanted to tackle it.

Why was Johan here? What did it matter? Why did Usnavi want him here?

“Usnavi…” Johan began, from the kitchen even under the roar of hot running water, Usnavi could hear his shoes tapping against the creaky wood floorboards as he crossed the living room.

He took a breath, “Yea…?” Usnavi kept his eyes on the dish, which had long been cleaned by now. Now Usnavi was using it as a scapegoat.

“I know you’ve told me how things can be hard on you sometimes…” He was getting closer, the kitchen was getting hotter. “I guess, I don’t know I haven’t able to stop thinking about you since the last time I was here.”

What months ago? They only just picked up contact over social media. Of course they texted from time to time… The feeling was mutual. Sadly. “Y-Yeah?” Usnavi muttered out, his shoulders rose as did the intensity of his heart rate.

“I wanted to see you again.” Johan was right next to him. Usnavi could feel the shadow being casted over him by the towering man. He swallowed hard and offered no input to that. “Usnavi...did you hear me?”

Of course he did. He heard him as clear as day that didn’t mean he wanted to hear that. He didn’t want to hear exactly what he had been secretly hoping for. He didn’t want to hear the reciprocation. He wanted this to be a fantasy. One he could enjoy when he wanted and...never get hurt from it because it wasn’t real. This…

“Usnavi.”

Couldn’t be real. Johan’s hand gently turned off the water. Usnavi watched as the last bits of steam disappeared. His eyes examined his red and raw fingers which had no feeling in them whatsoever. Silence, the storm was coming back. He could feel it, they were standing in the eye of the hurricane that had passed before. His rickety frame was swaying. He planted himself firmly and waited for the storm to crash down on him.

“Usnavi, say something?” Johan’s voice was weak but it had the power of 90 mph winds, battering at Usnavi’s interior. It roared and made something in him want to squeak back. The worried expression on his face of a man who just admitted more or less something fairly emotional rained down on him like pelting golfball sized droplets. Inside Usnavi was struggling to keep himself afloat. But on the outside?

“I think you need to go home, Johan.” He shook his hands once and wiped them against his shirt. He spun fast, just barely walking around the taller man. “I admit, you coming all the way here just to see me is nice but...I mean I don’t know you.” But I want to, he felt his heart bite back at his logic. “You need to go home” Please stay, he moved to the living room, Johan slowly tailing behind him.

If Usnavi dared to look back, he’d see Johan’s expression turn to a soft sadness. He wasn’t upset or hateful like Usnavi would have been if the tables were turned. He was genuinely hurt. The kind of hurt that reminded him of times kids would fall because their friend had been a little too rough on them, and they were biting back tears because they didn’t want their friend to feel bad. Johan...didn’t want Usnavi to feel bad.

All Johan could offer as a response was “Uh huh.”

“Plus, it's the holidays.” Usnavi smiled as if it wasn’t the worse time of year for him. “Your family needs you.” I need you.

Johan slowly lowered himself on the couch. Robotically he began sliding his arms back into his coat. “I’ll..uh..look for a flight. Find somewhere to stay…”

Good, he’d leave. It was better this way. Johan was still somewhat a stranger. A stranger Usnavi was projecting some weird, unexplained emotion towards.

“I’m sorry.” Johan looked up at Usnavi, at this point was staring out the window fixated on a streetlight. He wasn’t apologizing for coming here. They both knew that. He was apologizing because he had misunderstood what was here. Usnavi felt like laughing, sorry? Why did Johan have to be sorry? Usnavi should be sorry. Johan did what every person ever dreamed of, Christmas eve was tomorrow and Johan flew out just to see Usnavi and declare (somewhat) his feelings.

And as per usual, Usnavi disappointed someone else. It was better now than later. Better now than years of pining leading up to realize this can’t work. It wouldn’t work. No one fits here with him. Where two people started to fit together like puzzle pieces...Usnavi was that corner piece. There was nothing connecting him to anyone. He was the last piece to the big picture and the big picture didn’t include Johan. Big picture was him being Sonny’s big brother, Nina and Benny’s friend and godfather to their daughter. It was being a store owner and working until he could retire with the last bits of money abuela left him.

It was keeping these stories and telling them. Not making his own story. No… Usnavi zoned out, his eyes going in and out of focus as he watched the streetlight on the corner flicker, flicker then go out. As did the rest of the lights in his apartment. “Aye carajo!” Usnavi hissed, a black out in winter? This was literally a storm, inside and out.

“Uh...everything ok?” Johan blinked, he wasn’t sure if everything was meant to go out like that. Thankfully NYC was far from a dark place. The light from the rest of the city gave Usnavi some view as he shuffled around for a flashlight.

“No.” He snapped. “Nothing is ok.”

“Can I help?”

Why was Johan so soft? Why was he so kind and loving, he was only making this harder for Usnavi. “Yea, you can find a flight back to California.” He barked with some venom. Usnavi didn’t need lights to know Johan’s face must have looked offended or the very least shocked. He watched as Johan’s phone lit up and he began to scroll. One problem then the other, Usnavi would tackle them all.

“...there are no flights.”

“QUE?”

“I’m going to assume that means something exclamatory by the way you yelled that.” Johan’s voice mocked a cold tone as well. He was upset at Usnavi. Good. This would make getting Johan out even easier. “There is a blizzard watch popping up, there are no flights tomorrow or Christmas as of now.” Johan hoisted himself up and started for the door.

Usnavi felt each step send a cold spike through his facade. “W-where are you going?”

“You wanted me to leave so badly…” Johan whispered, now he was the one gaining more of a nerve. As if attitudes swapped places, Usnavi felt everything inside him grow soft. “Bye Usnavi.”

Oh no. Usnavi felt something unhinge. The strong support beams gave out and he was faced with nothing but his broken, aged foundation. No way capable of holding him up anymore. This hollow home, his lonesome oasis inside of his mind was crashing down on top of him. “It's dangerous outside…”

“Bye Usnavi,” Johan repeated going for the door.

Usnavi took two steps. “At least let me know where you’re going.”

Johan’s eyeroll could be felt around the world. “Goodbye Usnavi.”

“Wait-”

“What do you want?” Johan turned, he stared down the man he had flown miles across the nation. A man whose face invaded every thought, every worry, who made him jump at every message and tried so hard to feel mean. He wanted to mock him. He wanted to do something to fill the ache Usnavi’s weird mood swings had put him through. But he met terrified beady eyes under the shade of his blacked out apartment and couldn’t harbor even the slightest bad intention. “What do you want me to do?” He genuinely asked now. The Dominican man’s browns unknitted, they relaxed as he tried to satisfy the logic in him that told him to send Johan packing, regardless of what was happening. And the feeling of wanting to keep Johan within arms’ reach. “Stay here for now...until you can get a flight.” Logic: 0, Usnavi: 1.

Johan didn’t fight it, he didn’t question. A part of him still upset over Usnavi’s first reaction to his muddled declaration of emotion was temporarily silenced by the fact Usnavi cared enough to keep Johan from spending money at a motel. Cared enough to not send the clueless Californian on a snowy hike at night to some place to stay. He watched as the smaller man, flashlight in hand, fluttered around making the couch into a place to sleep. He pulled thick blankets from Sonny’s room, pillows, and a few candles by the coffee table.

“...the power is out.”

“I noticed Usnavi” He chuckled, the sound was so delightful. Right now he could live off that sound after the terrible feelings that had swarmed him all of the sudden.

“Heh, let me finish, idiota.” He licked chapped lips, basking in the warmth of Johan’s short lived laughter. “I mean, since the power is out if you get cold feel free to ...get more sheets from Sonny’s room...or just use his bed...it's small… so I put you here. Not saying you’re huge just…” If Usnavi could kick himself in the mouth just to shut up, he would.

Johan curled up on the couch with his shoes still on watching Usnavi ramble. Meanwhile, somewhere a small part of Usnavi was upset about that...but said nothing. “I’m fine, Usnavi. This is more than enough for a kid who use to sleep in a cubby of an RV...and in a tree...and there was that one time--” He shook his head not wanting to go into it. After all, Usnavi made it clear he wasn’t interested. “Goodnight.” He sank into the couch-bed and pulled the sheets around. Already the few minutes without power made a difference. The old began seeping in through the heating vents.

Without a sound, Usnavi retreated to his room closing the door. He, as silent as he could be, undressed his skin flushed from head to toe. The cold didn’t bother him though. It was a mild annoyance on his sensitive skin. His body was all too aware of the fact Johan was in the next room.

Johan was in his house.

Johan was sleeping in his living room.

Johan was here.

His body felt warm for the moment. He relived Johan’s chuckle and relished in it like it was sunlight on this dark, wintry night. He knew that this wouldn’t last though. In the morning, Johan would try again. Usnavi would push him to find a flight. He’d force Johan back home before this got messy. He felt the weight of all that reality push on him. God, it had been a long day.

He crawled on to his bed, flopped against the pillow face first and groaned. Johan would leave and surely never try to mix whatever this was up again. This was the reality Usnavi was ready for.

But for tonight, and just for tonight...He would turn his head towards the door and sleep well knowing, Johan was just a room away.

If only for tonight, he was here.

[untolikeiron-a]

RULES.  repost, don’t reblog. tag ten whatever. TAGGED. @sxmbol TAGGING.  I feel like I always tag the same people in these things so honestly just go for it and say that I told you to.

BASICS.

FULL NAME.  Daniel Thomas Rand-K’ai NICKNAME.  Danny, The Living Weapon,  The Young Dragon AGE.  33~ ish BIRTHDAY. april 1st

ETHNIC GROUP.  his dad was German, his mom was Irish, he is all kinds of caucasian NATIONALITY.  american. LANGUAGE.  english, mandarin chinese, japanese, some korean but only a handful and he can ask where the bathroom is in spanish SEXUAL ORIENTATION. heteroflexible RELATIONSHIP STATUS. single and heartbroken (aka resistant to mingle heyooo) CLASS. upper class HOME TOWN / AREA. midtown manhattan new york city, new york. CURRENT HOME. midtown manhattan PROFESSION.  CEO of Rand Corp, who specialize in medical technology but have several other divergent interests in infrastructure and chemical manufacturing

PHYSICAL.

HAIR. blond. EYES. blue. NOSE. broken more times than you can count; it has a permanent bump in the middle from injuries FACE. slim, oval shaped, long LIPS. thin, often chapped COMPLEXION. fair BLEMISHES. Very light spotting of freckles on the shoulders, upper chest and back of neck SCARS. everywhere TATTOOS. a giant black dragon on his chest HEIGHT. 5′ 11″ WEIGHT.  ~190 lbs BUILD.  slim, toned, muscular but not bulky-- practical muscle rather than “show” muscle. FEATURES. easy and genuine smile, expressive and kind eyes, hair that just don’t care.  ALLERGIES. none. USUAL HAIR STYLE. hope for the best in the words of bff matt  USUAL CLOTHING.  sweat pants and t-shirts (or, more often, no shirt).  Also business suits for work.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR. not really a fear because he confronts it but being alone/lonely for long periods of time drags on him.  ASPIRATION. to be the best like no one ever was live a good life, die a good death POSITIVE TRAITS. kind, compassionate, loyal, trustworthy NEGATIVE TRAITS. too trusting, reckless, occasionally gives into a deep-seeded rage, currently is also very lost VICE HABIT.  fighting  (ง •̀_•́)ง FAITH. taoist (buddhist in mcu) GHOSTS?  sure he’s met a few AFTERLIFE?  seems like that might be possible REINCARNATION?  sure why not ALIENS?  yep seen those POLITICAL ALIGNMENT. democrat. (so far left that he’s exited, pursued by bear) ECONOMIC PREFERENCE.  socialist  SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION.  extreme-left EDUCATION LEVEL.  completed 2nd grade before disappearing, acquired GED after returning to New York.

FAMILY.

FATHER. Wendell Rand MOTHER. Heather Duncan-Rand SIBLINGS.  half sister: Miranda Rand  EXTENDED  FAMILY.  Some adoptive family in K’un-Lun and the Meachums who were like family to the Rands but no other blood relatives NAME MEANING.  Daniel: The name Daniel is a Hebrew baby name. In Hebrew the meaning of the name Daniel is: God is my Judge. HISTORICAL CONNECTION. the Iron Fist have been guardians of K’un-Lun for hundreds of years; Danny is the 66th (I think, I always forget, it’s right around there) Iron Fist.  Previous Iron Fists include Orson Randall, who fought in WW I and WW II, Wu Ao-Shi the Pirate Queen of Pinghai Bay, Li Park (a pacifist), Kwai Jun-Fan who was the first Iron Fist to come to America in order to battle against the treatment and slavery of Chinese immigrants in California, and Bei Beng-Wen who used the chi of Shou-Lao to increase his intelligence both on and off the battlefield. 

FAVOURITES.

BOOKS.  Danny doesn’t read a lot, simply because he doesn’t have much time, but he enjoys reading almost anything.  MOVIES. Same as above; Danny’ll watch whatever you want if you make him sit down for long enough. MUSIC. rap, hip hop, r & b, pop, alternative and rock DEITY.  none HOLIDAY.  various taoist and local K’un-Lun holidays MONTH.  april SEASON.  spring. PLACE.  any place out in nature WEATHER.  any weather is good weather SOUND. chimes/bells/gongs, wind through mountain pass, singing SCENT.  concrete after rain, the crisp “smell” of snow, old wood TASTE. extremely spicy (but he can’t handle it that well, he only indulges occasionally as in like twice a year), deep fried whatever, seafood  FEEL. cold (as in snow, air, etc), polished/well-worn wood, a touch of silk (he doesn’t like a lot of it, like sheets, bc it catches on his callouses but a sash or a belt or something is fine), jersey cotton  ANIMAL. all animals tbh NUMBER. none really COLOR.  green

EXTRA.

TALENTS. master martial artist in several forms and disciplines, strategist and tactician, awkwardly charismatic/charming, disarmingly kind BAD AT.  “normal” social interactions particularly in formal settings, public speaking, not so hot at math either.  TURN ONS.  c o n f i d e n c e.  danny’s into any woman who can kick his ass literally or metaphorically.  strong women.  aggressive partners.  enthusiasm.   TURN OFFS.  passivity, asking him to change or to be other than he is, selfishness in word and deed. HOBBIES.  eating everywhere.  service & philanthropy. running outreach and charity programs.  teaching/running the school of thunder dojo TROPES. honestly too many for me to go chase down atm but the biggest one is mighty whitey lbr AESTHETICS.  dragons, ancient China, Himalayan mountains, New York City, sneakers with business suits, hands in pockets

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC. Andrew McMahon ALT  FC.  Finn Jones (MCU) OLDER  FC.   - YOUNGER  FC. - VOICE  CLAIM.  Andrew McMahon