#(But the thought of writing him never occurred to me before. I only did Rico from Madagascar once)

[gardengremlin]

Listen I was just joking on my rp blog but my brain really starts cooking up that thought of 'but what if I did write Iago on a small little secondary blog'? I srsly feel the most confident writing Subprime on my blog when it comes to personality and Iago is pretty much similar to him (much more of a coward tho, but their levels of anger and sass are the same lmao)

Maybe I work on a little something over the course of the next days while also finishing some replies on my main. Slowly. If that thought of writing Iago persists and I really pull through with it, I gonna give him a go later 8)

Right now I have a huge headache tho and I think I slamdunk my ass to bed. I wanted to finish some replies I started working on over the past few days but nah. Not gonna happen.

[wistfulcynic]

The Bend of the Arc (1/ 4)

SUMMARY: Emma Swan hates Killian Jones at first sight. He's everything she despises in a man: arrogant, provocative, and a known criminal associate of the city’s most notorious gangster. She’s determined to put him behind bars, until a shocking event forces them together and Emma discovers that there’s a lot more to Killian than meets the eye. 

-

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @stahlop​! ~ I know it’s a little early your time, but I have zero chill. Lisa, it’s been so wonderful getting to know you this past year or so, especially watching you get back into writing! You said you’d like to see my take on the enemies-to-lovers trope, and so here it is—I hope you enjoy it. Have a FANTASTIC birthday 😘😘😘

-

(note: Crime is soooo not my genre, but I did my best with it. If there’s anything I completely effed up it’s okay to tell me about it, but please be gentle 😘😘) 

Rating: M (language and eventual smut)  Words: 5.8k (of 30k total) Tags: Modern AU, enemies to lovers, bounty hunter!Emma, criminal!Killian, smut, bedsharing, stranded together

On AO3

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PART ONE: 

She could smell the despair the moment she walked through the door. That wasn’t unexpected; grim places frequented by grimmer people were the bread and butter of her trade and this particular grim place—a grimy hole in the wall near the harbour—bled exactly the same hopelessness as the rest of them. It was, however, not where she’d expected to locate this particular mark, and she didn’t care for the unexpected. In her line of work, unexpected could get you killed. 

He was here, though, right where her informant had said she would find him, and she spotted him the moment she walked through the door. He didn’t even look out of place, despite the expensive cut of his hair and his jacket, despite his goddamned Italian shoes. He should have stood out, been chased away, should never even have known a place like this existed, and yet here he was, slumped over the bar staring moodily into his drink the same as every other sad sack in the joint. 

She didn’t like it. It was unexpected. 

She slid onto the barstool next to him, taking care to allow her hair to drape across his arm. He didn’t move, not so much as a twitch. She exhaled a breathy sigh. No response. 

The direct approach it would have to be, then. 

“Hey.” She nudged him with her elbow. “What’s good here?” 

“Lass.” His eyes never left his glass. “I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree with me this evening. I’m not in the mood.” 

“What mood?” She gave a light, tinkling laugh. “I just asked what’s good.” 

“Try the rum.” He drained his glass and set it down firmly on the bar. “The Botucal. Only place in town that serves it. Everything else here is swill.” 

He stood up and left, without so much as a glance in her direction. 

I didn’t matter, though. She’d seen enough to know that it was him, and with her mark positively identified it was time to move in for the kill. She slipped off her stool and followed him out into the night, shivering in the chill breeze that blew in off the sea. She always forgot how much cooler it was near the water. 

She looked around for the mark and spotted him a short distance away, walking in the direction of the marina. Probably headed for his boat, she thought. She hurried to catch him up, moving on the balls of her feet so her heels wouldn’t click on the pavement. 

When she reached him he was just passing the harbourmaster’s office, a small building made of weatherbeaten wooden boards and with its door secured by a heavy iron chain looped through the handles, and she smiled to herself as she extracted her handcuffs from beneath her skirt. Perfect. In one swift, practiced move, she grabbed his arm and snapped a cuff around his wrist. 

“Killian Jones,” she said. “I’m here to—” 

He moved faster than she would have imagined him capable, using her hold on his arm to spin her around and slam her back against the door of the office, knocking the wind out of her. 

He held her there with his body pressed firmly against hers and even in her dazed state she registered the warmth and sturdiness of it, the spicy smell of his skin. His breath ruffled the fine hairs on her temple as he leaned in close to murmur in her ear. “I know precisely who you are, darling, and what you’re here to do,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling purr. “And I’m afraid I can’t allow it. You should have stayed in the bar.” 

“Then I wouldn’t have caught you.” Her own voice was breathy.

“You haven’t caught me now.” 

Her head snapped up at the amusement in his tone and she got a good look at his face for the first time. Even in the faint glow of the harbour lights the sight was breathtaking. Photographs really didn’t do him justice. 

“Yeah? Who’s the one in cuffs?” she retorted. 

There was a tug on her wrist and an ominous click, and the smile on his face became a smirk. “I believe you are, love,” he replied. 

“What the fuck?” She looked down to see her own damn handcuffs, now attached to her own wrist. He held her un-cuffed wrist firmly as he looped the cuffs through the heavy chain securing the door handles then clicked the second one into place on it, chaining her to the door. 

“What the fuck?” she repeated, her voice rising to a shriek as she tugged on the chain. “How the hell did you—” 

“Come now, you must have read my files. I dare say you know more about me than I do myself.” He held up a small leather case that she recognised as a set of lock picks and regarded her with a raised eyebrow. “Did it never occur to you that I might be able to get myself out of handcuffs? No?” He clucked his tongue. “That is a shame.” 

She tugged at the chain again, “Let me go!” 

“I fear that’s impossible, darling. As I told you before I can’t allow you to take me in. I have business to attend that won’t wait while I spend the night in a cell.”

“It’ll be a lot more than one night!” 

“It won’t be any nights. Also a shame. I wouldn’t mind at all spending a night with you, particularly one in which bars and handcuffs feature prominently.” He leaned in close to her again, dragging his nose up her cheek as his hand curled around her hip, thumb stroking just above the apex of her thighs. She snarled in outrage and he chuckled. “Beautiful, fiery woman like you,” he growled into her ear. “I’ve no doubt you’d make it memorable.” 

“I wouldn’t—” She was so furious she could barely speak. “Never—not in a million—not if you—the last man—” 

He chuckled again and stepped back. “Aye, love, I get the picture. Not if I were the last man on Earth, et cetera et cetera. I could change your mind, of course—” he smirked at her furious snarl “—but alas I’ve no time.” 

He shrugged off his jacket and moved to drape it around her shoulders and she recoiled with a hiss. “Get the fuck away from me!” 

“Now, darling, you may be here for some time. It’s a chilly night and you are, if you’ll forgive me, not appropriately attired for the sea air. Don’t freeze to death out of spite. If nothing else it’d be a highly embarrassing way to die.” 

She ground her teeth, but when he stepped forward again she allowed him to tuck the jacket around her shoulders. She hadn’t registered just how cold she was until engulfed in its warmth, in heat carried by his body and still bearing his spicy scent. His fingertips brushed the nape of her neck as he pulled her hair free of the jacket and she shivered, not from the cold this time. 

“Such a shame,” he murmured, almost to himself. 

“You’ll pay for this,” she spat.  

“As much as I hate to keep contradicting you, darling, no I won’t.” He smoothed the jacket over her shoulders and gave them a little pat. “Now you just sit tight right here and I’ll send someone to collect you. Let’s hope they don’t take too long.” 

He backed away with his eyes still on her, tilting his head to the side and biting down on his lower lip. Fury surged through her and she yanked at the chains again, letting out a guttural shriek when he simply laughed and turned away. She kept her eyes on him as he strolled along the waterfront like a man without a care in the world, until he turned onto one of the piers and disappeared from view. 

~

“Emma?” 

The voice, masculine and familiar, jolted her from her half-doze and she lifted her head, blinking in the harsh glare of a flashlight and trying to focus.

“Is that—Graham?” 

“Fucking hell, Emma, it is you! I thought he was—here, let me get you out of those cuffs.” 

Emma struggled up from the awkward crouching position she’d been in as Graham put his flashlight away and took out his keys. “Graham, what the hell are you doing here?” 

“Rescuing you.” 

He undid the cuffs and waited as she stood up straight and stretched her aching arms and shoulders. 

“How did you know where I was?” she asked, reaching out her hand for her cuffs.

He held them out to her, but when she took them didn’t let go. “Emma,” he said solemnly. 

“What?” 

“You’re not gonna like it.” 

“What?” She tugged on the cuffs and he released them. “What the fuck is going on, Graham? Tell me!” 

He sighed. “I need you to stop chasing Killian Jones.” 

“What?” 

“Come on. We need to go to the station and then I’ll explain.” 

~

“He’s working undercover!?”

“Yeah.” Graham’s face was solemn, with no hint of the smile he usually had for her. “He is. For over two years now.” 

“Two years? Fuck.” 

 “Exactly. But it’s nearly over. We’re so close, Emma, to the biggest RICO case of the last fifty years. We can shut down Pan’s whole operation in one move, but all of it, everything, hinges on Jones. We need him.” 

Emma’s lip curled. “And what does he get out of it? Immunity, I suppose.” 

“Yes. His record will be completely expunged. Clean slate.” 

“But he’s a criminal!” 

Graham sighed and rubbed his temples. “They all are, Emma.” 

“See, this is why I never wanted to be a cop,” she sneered, leaning back in her chair. They were sitting in an interrogation room in Graham’s precinct, surrounded by confidential files and cold coffee. “You ignore the crimes of one asshole in exchange for getting your hands on a bigger asshole. But that still leaves the first asshole loose on the streets, and with a clean slate this time. How is that justice?”

“Justice is never perfect,” said Graham shortly. “Nothing is. We do the best we can.” 

“That’s not good enough!” 

“It has to be, because it’s all we’ve got.” He leaned across the table, his eyes intense. “Emma, listen to me. Jones believes you actually did him a favour tonight. He’d been getting the sense that Pan no longer fully trusted him, but being actively pursued for a freaking eight-year-old bench warrant of all things seems to have brought him back in the boss’s good graces. That is the only, and I do mean only reason you are not in some serious fucking shit right now.” 

“What, for doing my job?” Emma scoffed. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Do I not seem fucking serious?” snapped Graham. “Did you not hear me say this is the biggest case in half a century? Do you not understand the goddamn consequences if it goes wrong, especially now?”

“I—” 

“Let me be perfectly clear about this. You cannot bring Jones in. If you do, this precinct will never work with you again, and neither will any of the others once they hear about it.” 

“But I—” 

“And that’s not all. I’ve put you in serious danger by giving you this information. I’m sorry for that, but I knew you wouldn’t back off just because I asked you to. And frankly we are all in fucking danger. Jones’s cover is as deep as it gets and the position he’s in right now is deadly precarious. If he’s blown before we can close the case it won’t just be him who dies. Do you hear what I’m saying, Emma?” 

She nodded, too frustrated for speech. 

“I’m trusting you, trusting your discretion and hoping like fuck that this one time you can leave your damn principles at the door and be realistic. Forget about Killian Jones. Not for his sake, for your own.”

~

It was the biggest RICO case in fifty years, and it went off without a hitch. Every member of Pan’s criminal organisation was arrested, from the kids who ran the street-level scams right up to the boss himself. Moles that had been embedded in the police department for decades were rooted out and an entire network of sham businesses collapsed. Crime in the city came screeching to a halt as even Pan’s competitors scrambled for cover. 

The evidence against them was solid, detailed and airtight, and one by one every single mob canary begged to sing. Fingers were pointing in every direction, many at each other but most of them straight at Pan, and the district attorney was confident that with a bit of manoeuvring she could see every last one of them behind bars for a very long time. 

Every one but Killian Jones. 

He was never mentioned by name in any of the reports or the news articles, simply referred to as ‘an undercover informant’. But Emma knew. He’d done one job and now he was free and clear, and the fact that he had spent ten years as Pan’s right hand didn’t even seem to faze the police. 

“How do you know he won’t just step into the power vacuum left by Pan?” she demanded of Graham one afternoon, as he processed the paperwork for a shoplifter she’d brought in. “Someone’s going to.” 

“It won’t be him.” 

“But how can you know?” 

“I trust him.” 

Emma stared, unable to believe her ears. “I can’t believe I ever considered dating you,” she spat. “You’re not who I thought you were.” 

“You considered dating me?” Graham repeated, gaping at her. 

She shrugged. “Yeah, for like half a second, back when we first met. You were hinting pretty heavily and honestly? I don’t shit where I eat, otherwise I probably would have said yes. But that was before I found out you trust criminals.” 

“Not criminals. Criminal, singular. Just this one.” 

“But why?” 

“I can’t tell you that.” 

“God damn it, Graham!” 

Graham set his jaw stubbornly. “Look, Emma, I get that you feel betrayed and I’m sorry for that. But this is how the police work. It’s legal and it’s final. Killian’s record is clean now. Leave him alone.” 

~

But she couldn’t. She did try, as much as she was able, but Emma Swan could never let anything go once her sense of outrage had been triggered and she couldn’t think about Killian Jones or anything related to him without outrage. She still had the jacket he’d left her in, hung in her closet right next to her own so that every time she donned the red leather she saw it there, mocking her, keeping her anger burning fierce and hot. 

And so she watched him. Subtly, because she could be fucking subtle, using her own network of informants that the cops didn’t know about. She tracked his movements, all his comings and goings from his house to his offices, and she traced his business dealings, bank records, tax reports, everything and anything she could get her hands on. 

It was all clean. He was never seen in any of Pan’s old haunts or associating with anyone remotely shady, his accounts showed a healthy income from legitimate sources. Businesses he had set up as part of his role in Pan’s organisation and then cleaned up once Pan was taken down. 

And yet. There was too much income, Emma felt. It was too clean. Too much money, too many businesses, far too quickly. Leopards, as the cliche goes, do not change their spots, and Emma was certain that Killian Jones was as spotted as they came. She just wished she knew how he was hiding them. 

~

The elegant marble foyer of the Gold mansion was the furthest imaginable thing from a grimy dockside dive bar but the smell of despair was here as well, just of a different kind. The despair of people who have more money than they could ever spend and are still unhappy, who have come to realise that however many cars or jewels or houses they buy the emptiness inside them remains. 

At least the other smells were better. Emma inhaled deeply as she entered, breathing in the aromas of a dozen different perfumes and colognes, along with some mouthwatering canapés of which she fully intended to partake. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to wrangle this invitation, she might as well enjoy herself. 

Snagging a glass of champagne from one passing tray and a mini crab soufflé topped with caviar from another, she sauntered into the room, deliberately drawing and ignoring the eyes upon her. The dress she wore was far subtler than her usual work attire, long and flowing and draped in a way that suggested far more than it revealed. Its deep crimson hue flattered her pale hair and skin and the faint shimmer in the fabric caught the light as she moved. 

Emma popped the last bite of soufflé into her mouth and resisted the urge to lick her fingers. Instead she sipped her champagne and looked around for another tray. One passed by bearing what looked like tiny donuts and she almost dove to grab one. Biting into it, she found that it was savoury and filled with a feather-light truffled chicken mousse. She closed her eyes on a moan of delight, and when she opened them again Killian Jones was standing in front of her, watching her with an expression she found deeply objectionable. 

“Well, darling, I do hope you’re not here for me this time,” he said. 

Emma sneered. “I’m not.” 

“Learnt our lesson, have we?” he replied with a smirk. 

She ground her teeth. “I’ve simply got bigger fish to hook,” she said. 

“Indeed. Considering that I am an entirely innocent man.” 

She snorted. 

“That infuriates you, doesn’t it,” he observed, smirk deepening. “That I walked free.” 

Nearly a year’s worth of frustration and righteous fury bubbled up inside Emma, bursting forth before she could stop it. “It’s not right!” she exclaimed. “It’s not justice!” 

“No, it’s just not perfect justice. Though one certainly could argue that a decade spent under the thumb of a madman is more than enough punishment for whatever crimes I committed.” 

Something in his voice troubled her, a pained sincerity that niggled at her conscience. She ignored it. “Rationalise it all you like, if it helps you sleep at night,” she retorted.  

“Oh, I have no trouble sleeping,” he said, stepping closer and leaning into her space, hips first. “Though occasionally I do forgo it voluntarily, in favour of more… enjoyable activities.” 

“You’re filthy.”   

“I certainly can be,” he purred. “If that’s what you want.” 

“I want nothing from you.” 

“Well love, we both know that’s not true.” 

“Oh do we?” 

“We do. You’re something of an open book, you see.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I am the opposite of that.” 

“You’d like to be. But for those who know how to look, your tells are obvious.” 

“Bullshit.” 

He shifted, standing straighter and observing her with blue eyes that went, between one blink and the next, from flirtatious to coolly assessing, sharply analytical. She felt a flare of alarm in her chest, and the worrying suspicion that she may have underestimated him.  

“The relaxed posture,” he said. “That’s one. You’re a woman of action, rarely still. If you stop moving you start thinking, and you, Emma Swan, hate nothing more than being in your own head. You’re tense all the time unless you’re pretending not to be, as you are now. Playing the role of carefree society girl, perfectly at home in these glittering surroundings where you are in actual fact deeply uncomfortable.”

She attempted a laugh. “Maybe I’m just having a good time.” 

“You’re holding that glass so tightly you’re in danger of snapping the stem, and you’re digging the heel of your shoe into the floor. It takes a lot of effort to maintain that outward calm, which is why you don’t normally bother. You hate artifice, bullshit as you would call it, and your plan tonight is to get in, get your mark and get out. After you’ve eaten your fill of the food, that is.” The corner of his mouth curled into a half-smile. “Do correct me if any of this is wrong.” 

“It’s all wrong,” she snapped.  

“Now, love, don’t you start to bullshit.”

Emma’s fingers clenched tighter on the champagne glass and she deliberately forced them to relax. “Why don’t you just leave me alone,” she hissed. 

His eyes softened, and heated with an expression that made her belly clench. “Because you intrigue me,” he murmured.  

“Well you disgust me.” 

He laughed. “Liar.” 

“How dare you—” 

He brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder, his fingers close enough that she could feel the heat of them but not their touch, and when he spoke again his voice was rough. “You’ve a delightful pale pink flush all across your skin, your pupils are dilated, your breathing shallow. And your pulse—” His hand glided down her arm and wrapped around her wrist, fingertips pressing gently onto her pulse point. “It’s racing, love. I don’t require any special skills to pick up on these tells.” He caught her gaze, his own heated and intense. “Would it help if I confessed that the attraction is entirely mutual?” 

“No!”  

“Pity.” 

She tried to pull her arm from his grip but he held fast, leaning closer still to murmur in her ear. “He’s over by the fountain.” 

She wouldn’t look, thought Emma. She wouldn’t. She closed her eyes as Killian released her and the heat and intoxicating scent of him moved away. She didn’t want his help, didn’t need it. Resented it. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking and of course there he was. Her mark, standing in front of the fountain at the centre of the room. 

“How the hell did you know—” she spun around but Killian was gone. 

Emma took a deep breath and then another, to calm herself and focus her concentration on her task. She smoothed her hair and the front of her dress and tossed back the rest of her champagne, gave her boobs a little boost and headed for the mark, a soft smile on her face and a gentle swing in her hips. 

She had crossed about half the distance between them when he tensed visibly and his shoulders shifted, like he was trying to pull them back and stand straight but was defeated by the power of his own sullen slouch. For a moment she thought he might have made her, but his eyes were fixed on something across the room, something—or someone—blocked from her view by the fountain. Emma slowed her pace, keeping her distance until he made whatever move he had planned. For several seconds he stared intently at whatever, whoever, held his attention and then he nodded, shoulders slumping even lower than they’d been before, and moved on surprisingly light and agile feet towards a small door behind the foyer’s grand staircase. With a quick glance around the room he slipped silently though it and a moment later Emma followed. 

Behind the door was a long, shadowy hallway that fulfilled her every expectation of what a mansion corridor should look like. The carpet beneath her feet was so thick that her steps made no sound as she followed the mark, past paintings and statues and even an honest-to-goodness suit of armour. She felt her jaw drop as she took it all in, until the mark turned a corner and she had to speed up her pursuit so as not to lose him. 

She made it around the corner in time to catch a glimpse of him disappearing through a door, and when she reached it she found that it hadn’t fully shut. She slipped her foot through the gap and eased it open until she could see into the room beyond. 

It looked like a museum. Or at least what she imagined museums should look like; she hadn’t visited many. It was a vast room that felt curiously airless, with tall ceilings and no widows, panelled entirely in wood. The same wood that made up the many low tables scattered over more of the same thick rugs that lined the hallway. Upon each of these tables a statue stood. Women, mostly, and some men, all naked. Made of marble, Emma imagined, though she was hardly an expert. Weren’t statues generally made of marble? They were definitely some kind of stone, or she supposed possibly plaster. It was hard to tell the difference from so far away. 

Tentatively she nudged the door and when it made no noise pushed it open further and slipped into the room, weaving through the statues in search of her mark. A voice spoke just ahead and to her right and she moved quickly over the silent carpets, stopping when she caught sight of a pair of polished shoes and the tip of a black cane, and ducking behind a statue, out of sight of the man who spoke.

“So,” he said, his voice cold and without inflection, and with a hint of an accent she couldn’t place. “Do you have it?” 

“I—” the mark began.

“Do not disappoint me, Felix,” the cold voice interrupted. “You would not like for me to be disappointed.” 

Emma crouched down and peeked around the leg of the statue that shielded her, just enough so she could see both men clearly. The mark, Felix, was in his early twenties, with a sullen face to match his posture and lank blond hair that fell into his eyes. He’d been arrested for loitering two months ago and missed his court date, but there was nothing else on his record worse than a few shoplifting charges and possession with intent. This meeting, this whole damn situation, seemed well above his pay grade and she should have known that, Emma berated herself. She should have smelled a rat from the start, but instead she’d let herself be distracted by canapés and by Killian goddamn Jones, and forgotten what she was supposed to be doing.  

She could almost hear Felix’s terrified gulp. “I—I couldn’t get it,” he whined. “Jones said—” 

“Do not speak to me of Killian Jones,” hissed the other man, a slight, elegantly dressed one with long hair and a thin face in which teeth and eyes were prominent. “I will deal with him when the time is right. For now—” He lifted his cane and Felix cringed. 

“No, sir, please. I’ll get it I promise—” 

“Your promises are worthless to me,” said the elegant man, with a reptilian smile that made Emma’s skin crawl. He was enjoying this, she realised, feeding off of Felix’s terror and craven grovelling as he slowly advanced. He twisted the head of his cane and with a faint swish and a mechanical clank a long, sharp blade appeared from the end of it. Felix stared at the blade, frozen in fear. 

“They are, in fact,” the elegant man continued, closing the remaining distance between them, “as worthless as you are.” He bared his teeth and plunged the blade into Felix’s heart. 

Emma gasped. She couldn’t help it. For all the hardships she’d suffered in her life—the uncaring foster families, the time on the streets, the teenage pregnancy—she had never witnessed a crime more serious than petty theft and drug dealing. Nothing like cold-blooded murder. She would have liked to think herself tough enough to handle the sight without flinching but she was overcome by the sheer horror of it. The blood that bloomed across Felix’s shirt and the way the life drained from his body. The cold, cold triumph of the man who killed him. It was the worst thing she’d ever seen, could ever imagine seeing, and though she clapped her hand across her mouth it was too late. The noise of her indrawn breath was loud in the room’s still air and the man looked sharply at her. He couldn’t see her behind the statue—she didn’t think he could—but he knew precisely where she was. 

“Well, well,” he said. “It appears we have a loose end.” 

Emma ran. She didn’t hesitate or stop to think, just leapt up from her crouch and sprinted, as fast as her high heels and the confusing layout of the statues would allow. She had no idea if the man had any backups—he seemed the sort who would, though she hadn’t seen or heard anyone but himself and Felix—but  she knew that no matter what it was riskier to try to hide than just to run, to put as much distance between herself and the man as she could and try to get away. 

She headed straight for where she thought the door was but soon found herself disoriented. There was no clear path through the statues and they all looked the same—white limbs and torsos atop identical tables, on a carpet with the same repeating pattern, in a room with no markings of any kind on the walls. She could hear the man behind her, his steady breathing as he pursued her across the thick carpet, not running, of course not, because doing so would tire him and that steady, deliberate pace was far more terrifying, damn him, and she tried to run faster, grabbing blindly at a small piece of statue as she passed. It was lighter than she’d expected—perhaps plaster then, not stone—and she flung it back the way she’d come, not looking at where it flew, not stopping to see what it hit when it crashed and shattered behind her. 

She reached the wall but there was no door on it, just identical wooden panels repeating all along its length. One of those must be the door, Emma thought. There had to be a door, she’d come in through one. She began to feel along the wall looking for a knob or a button or a loose join, anything at all that might trigger it to open. Now that she was no longer running she felt her fear much more acutely, gripping her chest and clouding her mind and edging her dangerously close to panic. 

“I don’t know who you are,” called the elegant man’s voice, from much closer behind her than she’d hoped. “But I’m very much taken with your lovely hair and that glorious red dress. Very… memorable, both of them. Very distinct.”  

Emma’s search for the door grew frantic. She tried to keep calm and focused but all she could think was that she was alone in this room with a murderer. An absolutely remorseless killer was mere feet behind her and there was no door. There was no fucking door and that meant no escape. She was trapped here in this airless, noiseless place and she was going to die. 

A sob rose in her throat, almost drowning the soft click to her left. The panel next to her swung open and she could just make out the silhouette of a man among the shadows of the hallway beyond. Was this the backup, then, she wondered? A henchman come to block her escape, force her back into the clutches of the elegant man? The appearance of this new threat snapped her back into herself, gave her something to do, and she seized on that with desperate relief. Holding herself loose but alert she bent her knees, settled her weight over the balls of her feet and prepared to defend herself as best she could. It wasn’t likely she could stop them killing her, but she could damned well make it difficult, and now that the door was open she had at least a slim chance of escape. 

The shadows shifted as the man in the doorway reached out with a speed and deftness of movement she’d seen only once before, and quicker than she could react he grabbed her and yanked her against him, clapping his hand over her mouth and pinning her arms to her sides, pulling her back through the door and letting it fall shut behind them. When it had latched with another soft click, the man swung Emma to one side and gave the door a sharp kick with the heel of his shoe, jamming the delicate mechanism that controlled it. 

Emma seized the advantage of his momentary imbalance to try to struggle free, wriggling in his loosened grasp and aiming a kick at his instep, but again he was too quick for her. He shifted his weight to avoid her swinging foot and adjusted his hold, tucking her tightly against his side and dragging her with him as he headed away from the door, moving rapidly despite her furious squirming, along the hallway and down a darkened stairwell and through a side door of the mansion then out into the night. 

“I have a car waiting,” he growled in her ear, picking up their pace now they were out of the house. “It’s idling at the end of this driveway. If you don’t get in it, right now, you will die. Don’t make me tie you up, Swan. As much as I would enjoy that in other circumstances.” 

Emma could see the car he meant, the only one in the long driveway that was running. When they reached it she dug her heels hard into the loose gravel beneath them, throwing Killian Jones—because of course it was fucking him—off balance just enough that his grip loosened and she was able to jam her elbow into his ribs, wriggling away when he huffed in pain. 

“Let go of me!” she shrieked. 

“Keep your voice down,” he snarled, grabbing her arm and pulling her back again. He scowled down at her, his eyes angry and frustrated and scared. It was the fear that caught Emma’s attention, made her pause. “I should bloody well let him kill you,” Killian muttered. “But instead I am going to save your life, whether you like it or not. Now get in the damned car, woman.” 

Emma yanked her arm from his grasp and this time he let her go. They stood glaring at each other, breathing hard, gripped by a very similar anger and, more worryingly, the exact same fear. 

“Why should I trust you?” she demanded.

“You have no earthly reason to,” he replied. “But that man you saw in the gallery, that is Robert Gold, and however vile you think me I assure you he is a hundred times worse. The devil or the deep blue sea, take your pick, love.” 

Emma stared at him, searching for the lie, for the deceit she knew had to be there. But there was none. For the first time in their acquaintance he was being completely serious, and completely honest. Damn it. 

She got in the car. 

-

Millions of thanks to @thisonesatellite and @ohmightydevviepuu for holding my hand in this unfamiliar genre. Also, tagging everyone who showed an interest in the snippet of this I posted a few weeks ago. If you don’t want to be tagged in further updates, PLEASE let me know 😘 @kmomof4​ @mariakov81​ @katie-dub​ @spartanguard​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @courtorderedcake​ @squidvisious​ @cluttermind​ @teamhook​ 

-

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Love Potion Extravaganza Ch. 10

Once again, a big kiss and thanks to @pizzansunshine for her help in editing and finishing this fic of monstrous proportions. Thank you @shasta627 for helping me pick out songs even though we had to exclude Math of Love Triangles and the Sireneas for the sake of the story. Maybe next time. Also thanks to @missnobodynobodius for her enthusiasm and love for all these Crazy Ex Gf songs and inspiring me to finally write a fic to combine these two loves. Lastly, thanks to @lostbutterflyutau for her continued comments and enthusiasm for the story even though I kept stabbing her heart. 

The last three songs are “One Indescribable Instant Reprise” https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=XlEqPHOADMc

“The Magic Within You” https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=_3Kp8y02Abg

“A Real Life Happily Ever After” https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=uEiD2kpx5AA

Epilogue

Mateo paced uneasily outside his workshop. He knew he should have gone in and just do his usual magic practice and studying and probably clean it up. Naomi and Olivia admitted to leaving it a terrible mess when they had been making their own potion, but Mateo was just too distracted.

His head was still stuck on the magical hours he spent with Elena, in love with her and she feeling the same way. He knew now they had been under a love potion. That her actions while under its effect probably meant nothing to her. Like how she had suggested that they should be in a triple wedding with Manuel, Valentina, Gabe and Naomi. But to him, her actions still meant so much.

He got to bask in the glow of her smile. He knew now, what it was like to feel Elena love him. Her sweetness and affection directed only toward him. He knew how it felt to have her curled up in his arms. The feeling of elation at the thought of becoming her husband and spending the rest of his life with her. Now he knew it was it like.... His crush on her had become unbearable. He had taste of what it was like to be Elena’s boyfriend and he couldn’t let it go. Before he had no idea, he only had his imagination and at least that helped him keep some of his feelings under control.

But he now knew how wonderful it was. When they walked back to the palace, every time he looked at her, he felt tingles spread across his skin where her soft hands had touched him and hugged him and cuddled him. Her laugh sounded even more musical if possible. He wanted to return to the position of being right next to her. He couldn’t handle all these feelings. He had to admit to her that he had an actual crush on her. One that had started long before today. He knew it would be risky, laying out all his emotions out there for her to reject him. Kindly of course, since Elena was far too sweet to say he would never make a good boyfriend for her. But still...

He might even have to go back to living with his mother. Elena would undoubtedly feel uncomfortable to have him in the palace after he admitted his crush. It was just as well, it would be too painful to see her at all hours of the day. Like right now, his heart constricting painfully against the confines of his chest as he imagined breakfast mornings not at the palace table. Not seeing Elena’s sleepy look as she tried to wake up. She looked so adorable when she... 

“Hey Mateo, are you going to go in or..?” Naomi broke into his thoughts. She and Gabe were staring questioningly at him and his frozen feet.

“Uh” Mateo froze and managed to stutter, “No-no. I can’t concentrate I’ll just join you.”

“Okay,” Gabe shrugged as the three of them walked down the hall. Mateo remained silent, his mind still wandering onto the subject of Elena. Gabe and Naomi, however, were at their easy joking banter, talking about everyone’s hilarious actions during the day. At the moment, Mateo envied how they could easily go back to their lives. Write this off as one weird, madcap adventure. They didn’t have any feelings to contend with.

Once everyone had been released from the potion, Gabe had immediately apologized to Elena for his proposal to date, explaining that his feelings were very much gone. This had been somewhat of a relief to Mateo, to know he was right that Gabe was not after Elena. Naomi had no issues to deal with since she had remained one of the only sane ones. She reveled in telling everyone the gory details of what other people had done and mocked them too. Her favorite target was Alonso after he recalled his very inappropriate overtures to her.

Alonso, for his part, didn’t seem too embarrassed. He claimed that not only did the spell make him fall in love but that it made him revert to his old ways. But he had no real answer for when Naomi questioned that did his old ways include falling in love with malvagos, instead he turned his head away muttering, “I thought she was a sexy stranger.”

Valentina and Manuel, whose time under the spell seemed to have sparked some genuine feelings, were also pretty happy in the aftermath. They had decided to go on a few dates to see how it goes and then they would deal with Valentina’s parents.

It was all a real happily ever after it looked like, for everyone but for him.

He was brought out of his gloomy spiel by Luisa coming over to take his hands, apologizing profusely, “I’m sorry, my dear boy for being so rude during breakfast. Love potion or not, I had no right to be so consumed with my husband to be rude to others and neglect your requests for help.”

“Even with a husband as handsome as me.” Francisco came up behind her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Even with a husband as handsome as you.” Luisa smiled up at him.

“Thanks, Luisa. You don’t have to apologize but thanks.” Mateo replied and they continued on down the opposite direction of the hall.

“Was the whole family under the love potion?” Gabe asked Naomi.

Naomi laughed, “Oh yes. Esteban with Doña, Isabel with..” She gasped and put a hand over her mouth like she said too much.

Gabe nudged her, “Isa and who?” “I wasn’t supposed to say she was under the potion.” Naomi winced at her own big mouth.

“It’s too late now, tell.” Mateo urged, getting a little curious as to who Isabel could have a crush on. Probably one of her school friends like Quique.

Naomi looked down at the ground, silent for a long while but she whispered guiltily, “Gabe.”

“Me?” Gabe asked then he seemed to consider it, “She had a crush on me?”

“Please don’t act like you know! I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.” Naomi begged.

“No, I won’t. It was probably a silly crush.” Gabe shrugged it off, but Mateo noticed that his eyes still seemed to be thinking it all over.

The trio arrived outside of the Grand Council room where Manuel was standing guard with Rico. They was an awkward minute or two of silence as they all waited for their friends to come out, but it was thankfully broken when Valentina swung open the door with her usual exuberance.

“Thank you so much for hosting this Elena. This alliance will benefit our kingdoms for years to come!” She waved as Manuel linked arms with her. With a softer tone she turned to her guard, “Let’s go home, Manuel.”

The two walked off, whispering about how the meeting went and of other future things to come.

Alonso gave a half-hearted bow to Naomi, Gabe and Mateo before kissing Elena’s hand which she yanked away with a roll of her eyes at his wannabe casanova attitude, “Till we meet again.”

Before he sauntered off, he turned and pointed a finger-gun to Naomi, “Maybe we can have intercourse next time, blondie.”

“In your dreams!” Naomi yelled at his retreating back, accompanied with a choice finger.  

“Elena, can I talk to you in private?” “Mateo, can I talk to you in private?”

They flushed and looked at the ground after they asked the exact same question in unison.

Gabe looked between the two, grabbed Naomi’s arm, and smoothly exited, “Come on, Nomes. Let’s go to my mom’s to get some nice freshly baked treats. See you guys tomorrow.”

Alone, Elena and Mateo walked silently down the hall that led to courtyard and the palace gardens, both lost in their own worlds.

Elena found that the trade alliance that she had been so eager to host, had been torture to sit through. It had occurred right after the love potion was lifted and all Elena wanted to do was sit down with Mateo and asked if being together felt as right to him as it did to her.

When they had been together under the love potion, it was almost like a piece that Elena hadn’t even knew that was missing from her life fell right into place. That piece was Mateo. Being with  him made her feel, if she had to take a line from Valentina’s song, “totes invincible.” She felt that as long as she was secure in the knowledge that Mateo loved her and cared for her, that she could win over whatever came her way. At least she knew he would be there behind her with some nice cuddles and sweet words of comfort filled with the trust that she could do her duty.

Even without the potion she still felt that. On the carriage ride back to the palace she had decided that she had to tell him her feelings and what he meant to her. She knew it was unlikely he would feel the same way for her. He agreed to just impulsively marry her while he was under the spell. A sure sign that he was not acting his usual, more cautious self. But even though he could not offer romantic love, she still wanted assurance that he would always be there. Always be with a compassionate look, his warm arms that were just perfect hugging, always be a person that she could confide in. Always be one of her best friends.

“I KNOW YOU DON’T HAVE FEELINGS FOR ME!” An exasperated voice shouted from behind Esteban’s room, “It’s still impossible that you would feel absolutely nothing from what happened today! I am amazing! Women have fainted in my arms and asked me to be the father of their children after I merely kissed them. You had to enjoyed it. You cannot walk away without enjoying it on some level. I know you have a heart of ice but still no frozen heart can’t not be melted by Esteban Flores!”

Elena and Mateo curiously peaked behind the door. Esteban and Doña were once again nose to nose in an insult match, their eyes flashing with their usual blazing fury. Thankfully, both were fully dressed in their regular clothes.

“I told you. I. Felt. Nothing. You may have been a good kisser when you were young, but now you need a love potion to boost your skills..” Doña snapped back with a sneer.

“That wasn’t my fault. Besides, we both know you liked it.” Esteban growled.

“And so did you.” Doña glared. 

“I was not the one who begged for more.” His voice took on a sing-song tone of superiority, “If I remember correctly that when we were in the kitchen you had some expletive statements about how you wanted more of me.” Esteban smirked.

The smirk soon faded from his lips when Doña’s taunted, “Not only have your kissing skills faded with age, but you’re- ”

Esteban interrupted her by pressing her against the wall in a passionate kiss, “Now?” 

“Read my lips. Nothing!” Doña spat and he responded by kissing her again.

“Liar! I’m fantastic! Admit it!”

Mateo and Elena closed the door firmly behind them. Elena broke the silence, “I thought Naomi gave them the antidote?” 

Mateo shrugged, “They are fighting again so..that’s a good sign, I guess?”

Elena chewed her lips before inching herself away from the door, “The-they can resolve their issues. We really don’t need to get involved.”

“Yeah that’s-that’s a great idea.” Mateo agreed. They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Whether it was from the nervousness for the conversation about to come or just the ridiculous scene they just witnessed it at least served to break the ice between them. They instinctively locked arms when they entered the garden. Elena led him to a small bench that Mateo had never seen before because it had been blocked by rose bushes.

They sat and lapsed into silence again, unsure of who should start the conversation. Mateo was thinking of how exactly he showed open when Elena blurted, “I like you!” Then with the same shocked gasp as Naomi, she covered her mouth, looking down at it as if it talked without consulting her brain.

Meanwhile Mateo’s brain seemed to have stopped because as he turned the phrase, “I like you” in his head, he couldn’t quite comprehend it. Did she meant as a friend? Was she trying to apologize for today? She had to be, the only other option was..

“I like you more than as a friend. I like you.. A lot. I know you don’t feel the same way but let me explain.” Elena said her voice trembling as she forced herself to look into Mateo’s eyes as she spoke. Mateo’s heart jumped up to his throat than to his stomach. It was doing the jumping he longed to do. She liked him! She liked him back! Never in his wildest dreams that Elena liked him. A part of him worried maybe this was the love potion talking but another part urged him to kiss her before she changed her mind. Yet when he looked at her, how vulnerable she seemed as she admitted her feelings, he knew the right thing to do was to give her the space she needed to talk.

“I don’t know when it started. Sometime after we first went to Vallestrella I think.” Elena was so absorbed in what she was trying to put in words she missed the smile that spread across Mateo’s face.

“You’re- you.” Elena took a deep inhale then exhaled, “You make me feel so many things, Mateo. I guess it would be love in an overall sense. But all these other emotions are built in too. I feel safe with you. I feel like you’re the only one I can trust with some of my worst fears and insecurities. But even better, you’re understanding. I know I can be sad and you will not see me as less of a queen. But but I also feel so happy when I’m with you too. We’ve had so many adventures together like when we transformed into jaquins together. That was so much fun. I love how you go with my crazy schemes even though they’re not always thought out. And that you give me really good advice. And I don’t only love how you make me feel but just you. I love you! You’re so compassionate and sweet and adorable. And the way you’re so passionate about magic, it’s admirable. You’re so brave but modest and you’re a really good teacher to Olivia and to me. And,” Elena took another deep breath. Her mind was spinning out of control, there were so many traits of Mateo she wanted to praise, but she knew if she continued rambling on it might scare him. She was here to tell him that she was still willing to be his friend even if he didn’t like her.

“I love you, Mateo. I know you may not love me back. But that is how you make me feel. I wanted to tell you that even though you don’t want to be my boyfriend, I still hope..if you are willing... Will you still be someone I can confide in? Can I still come to you when I need comfort? I know it might be awkward now but I still need you in my life as one of my best friends.”

Mateo looked into Elena’s eyes. Their large brown irises shined with an irrepressible emotions, emphasized by the spontaneous tears starting to pool at the corners. That passion that Elena put into everything she did, how she put her feelings into her every action. They were all directed at him...because of her love for him.

He put a finger under her chin and guided her toward him. They eyes connected for the briefest of seconds but it was enough for Elena to see his own eyes fill with love. He kissed her. Their lips fit together perfectly, soft and warm and sending a thousand small sparks up and down their bodies. When he pulled away, he swore his curls must have been standing straight up from the electricity between them.  

“I love you too, Elena.” He admitted breathlessly, an inappropriate nervous laugh burbled up his throat, but he swallowed it down.

“I’ve loved you before this day. Before Vallestrella even but I don’t think I even really knew it at the time. What I did know was that I wanted to always make you the happiest girl in Avalor and to help you as you grow to be queen and a master wielding your scepter. I don’t know when my feelings really came but that doesn’t matter. I still want to make you happy. You make me happy all the time. You gave me confidence and courage to do things I never thought I could do. But you don’t only do that for me but to everyone you meet. You are a shining light to the kingdom. But that’s not the only reason I love you. Your endless enthusiasm is contagious, your laugh is as musical as your voice. I feel like they’re aren’t enough adjectives to describe how I feel. I.. I love you. I feel so..honored honestly that you love me too.”

Elena threw her arms around him, “You don’t have to be honored. I’m honored that you love me, my brave, handsome wizard.” Mateo blushed at her “handsome” comment which made Elena smile. He was so cute!

“I guess we’ve been hiding our feelings for each other this whole time.” Mateo said, relaxing as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Well to be fair, we can’t pinpoint when we first realized we had feelings much less when we first had feelings.” Elena pointed out. 

Mateo laughed, “It’s like that song we sang. “In one indescribable instant, the whole world falls away. In one indescribable instant, you’ll know just what to say.”

Elena joined, her nightingale-like voice blending melodiously with his strong alto, “In one indescribable instant, your heart will speak the truth! For in that one indescribable, magical, mystical, endless, incredible instant..”

“The only words you need are “I love you.” Mateo finished softly and kissed her again. 

In his opinion this kiss was almost as good as their first one. The smell of roses filled the air and left Mateo feeling breathless. His heart still clenched in excitement, he still felt like he was floating on air, he still felt the comforting embrace of Elena and he could hear the beating of their hearts as one. 

But it was better because this was genuine. This was going to last.

“Should we tell everyone the good news? Elena asked, making no move to get up from her comfortable position snuggled against Mateo’s chest.

“Tomorrow.” Mateo suggested as the sun started it’s daily dip toward the ocean. “I’m done with dealing with excitement for today.” 

“Me too.” Elena rubbed her head in the crook of her neck prompting Mateo to kiss her temple like he had seen Francisco do to Luisa this morning.

They stayed like that for a while, watching the sunset when Elena jumped up and gave a playful bow, “Shall we dance?”

“I’d be delighted.” Mateo answered and spun her around into his arms. Elena gave him a knowing smile as she hummed familiar tune for them to dance to. 

She gave him a wink when she saw the look of recognition on his face. “Remember your first royal wizard coronation?” 

“Yes, that’s when I first really believed in myself. Because of you.” Mateo answered and Elena began to sing the song that inspired him to fight Fiero for Avalor and for Elena.

He would like to think of it as “their” song.

“The first time that I met you I could see

You were meant to be a hero to us all

Taking on the forces of the dark with your magic spark

And always standing tall.”

Mateo joined in, the words coming to him as if that moment had been yesterday instead of three years ago. “You're starting down a path to find your destiny

So now is not the time to hide.

You have to raise your scepter and do your best for me

Because I need you by my side.”

Mateo and Elena swayed side by side. Every little touch raised goosebumps but the warm contact prevented them feeling the cold night air. “'Cuz there's a lesson you will not find in a book. Inside yourself is where you have to look.

Find your courage and your pride, inner strength can be your guide

And it will always see you through

If you believe the magic within you.”

Mateo absentmindedly stroked her back as they danced which made Elena want to pull Mateo into another kiss. She felt like she was in a dream. A fairytale dream with a real-life amazing boy that she loved with her whole heart.

“But! If! No wait! I can't! These words will hold you down

Instead just say I can! Those words will turn things around

Cast all your doubts away tell all your fears goodbye

Do what you're meant to do and let your magic fly!”

They stopped dancing, taking a pause to have a sweet kiss that made Elena’s toes curl and Mateo shudder with anticipation when Elena peppered kissing on his nose, chin and cheeks before settling on his lips again. “'Cuz there's a lesson you will not find in a book

Inside yourself is where you have to look.

Find your courage and your pride inner strength will be your guide

And it will always see you through

If you believe the magic within you.”

They did one final spin as Elena’s beautiful notes faded in the night, “You must believe in the magic within you.”

Without a word, they retraced their steps back to the palace, giving each other sly smiles all the while. They took the long way back to the library in order to avoid any family members or servants that had decided to stay up late.

“You know. I feel like a cliche princess.” Elena commented when they walked back inside the palace. “I have a handsome lover, my kingdom, Shuriki’s gone. The Delgados are defeated for now. Everything at peace.”

“Do you not like it? Do you want some more adventure? Because I think we can get into some trouble tomorrow.” Mateo teased, bravely taking her hand once they entered the empty library with the secret passage to his workshop.

Elena shook her head and played with his fingers as he opened the entrance, singing softly as to not attract any attention, “I’ve been riding toward—

A real-life happily ever after.

I’m done with all the intrigue.

Sick of kicking ass.

As far as seeking vengeance

Frankly, I can pass.

I’m ready now for something

Of a diff ’rent class—

A real-life happily ever after.”

Mateo turned to look into her eyes once more as they sang so the only people who would know their lovely secret were them, “Screw the potions and malvagos and jaquins

All the magic I need is you.

Journey done, we’re home

As epic endings go,

It’s rather small...

But it’s a real-life happily ever after

After all.”

Mateo cupped her cheeks and Elena placed her hands over his, “I love you, ‘Lena.” “I love you, Mateo.”

And they kissed once more, hearts filled with love and joy in their mutual affection.

As they pulled away, Mateo opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something and abruptly closed it then opened it again.

Elena giggled, “What is it, mí querido”

Mateo sighed, feeling his sudden nervousness fall away at the sound of Elena’s new nickname for him, “I don’t really feel that tired so I’m going to whip up some potions. I was wondering, uh, want to join me?

Elena leaned close so they were touching nose to nose, “I’d love to.”

[ads4servicepro]

Ways to Remember Your Pet After It Has Passed On

You would be an unusual person indeed if, snuggling your soft new puppy, you thought about ways to remember your pet after it has passed on. The thought of death rarely crosses a person's mind at such a wriggling, full-of-life moment. We usually live as though our pets possess immortality, but our hearts know they may very well pass on before we do.

I remember so well the day our adult daughter's dog, Daisy passed on. The two had accompanied each other constantly for twelve years. Our daughter provided warm, handmade clothing for her 40-pound Daisy. She socialized Daisy and trained her in the niceties of everyday life. She nursed Daisy through many illnesses, including the cancer to which her pet finally succumbed. As the end neared, she arranged with a local veterinarian for immediate pickup and final assistance through the closing hours of her pet's life. No one suspected, however, that Daisy's death would occur in the wee small hours of the morning. Daisy passed on with nothing more than the tender comforts and copious tears of her lifelong human companion.

Our daughter sank into the depths of grief. With morning, she contacted the veterinarian. Daisy's body made the trip to the vet's office for cremation, and our daughter held only her memories. She soon realized that she wanted a concrete, visible way to remember her pet. We wanted to give her some kind of memorial gift, and began looking for ways to remember her pet.

WAYS TO REMEMBER YOUR PET AFTER IT HAS PASSED ON

The number of ideas astounded us. Some people suggested burying the pet's cremated ashes in a pet cemetery and erecting an outdoor memorial. Some felt that a memorial service provided a good way to remember your pet. Others listed self-involvement such as sharing the love you felt for your pet with other animals, volunteering at an animal shelter, or helping the elderly with their pets. There appeared to be many ways to remember your pet after it has passed on, but none of them fulfilled what we wanted - a "memorial" as constant as Daisy had been.

Some ideas were right for a goldfish. Some were suited to either cat or dog. There were even ways to remember your pet pony or horse after it has passed on. I imagine that if you looked long enough, you might even find ways to remember a deceased elephant.

Let me give you five other ideas we found.

- Create a memory garden if you own your own property. Make it as simple or elaborate as you wish. Choose a quiet spot away from foot traffic and plant a few flowers. Add an attractive flat stone on which you've painted your pet's name. You might also add a stone or metal statue of your pet's breed. As you maintain the garden, you will remember your beloved pet.

- Craft a custom picture frame of your pet with its name, and fill it with a favorite photo of the cat, dog, etc. If you'd rather let someone else do the work, try looking on the Internet for custom memorial photo frames, or find a generic frame you love and insert a photo of one of the happiest days with your pet.

- Place a box of your pet's ashes on a shelf, but make it a special box. (I knew a woman who piled five plain boxes on a shelf (two dogs and three cats)! You can order a beautiful wooden, laser engraved urn with a photo of your pet, its name, and dates etched on the top. You might even remember your pet with a special poem etched on the box front.

- For an inexpensive way to remember your pet after it has passed on, repurpose your pet's ID tag. You can add it quickly and easily to a handmade bracelet. Or attach the pet ID tag to a key ring that you take with you every time you leave home. If you have none, you can order one featuring your dog's name and a symbol that will often bring memories to mind.

- Order a mobile decal memorial for your bike or vehicle. These window decals often memorialize human loved ones, but also provide a way to remember your pet after it has passed on. 

My personal choice?

GLASS PET CREMATION JEWELRY

Of the many ways to remember your pet after it has passed on, I love the handmade, custom pet cremation ash pendants. Glass pet cremation jewelry is not all created equal, of course. Many pieces are factory-made and lack the individual warmth you and your pet shared.

The best pet cremation jewelry gives you a warm, unique way to remember a warm, unique pet with whom you loved life and explored the world in which you lived. Glass pet cremation jewelry transforms a portion of your pet's cremated ashes into an artistic expression of your love for him or her. You could leave the ashes in a box on the shelf, of course, as suggested above. You wouldn't be able to carry the box with you, however. You might only see the memorial when you dusted it each week.

Glass pet cremation jewelry takes a small portion of your pet's ashes, melts them within smooth, hot glass, and presents you with a beautiful piece of wearable art.

My favorite pet cremation jewelry is a striking red paw-print pendant, hand-fashioned by the professional artist at https://psychecremationjewelry.com/cremation-jewelry/glass-cremation-pendants/red-pawprint-cremation-pendant.

This is simply stunning! You must see it! It makes a perfect way to remember your pet after it has passed on. Its beauty shows others, too, how much you loved your non-human companion.

When you wear this particular pet cremation pendant, you and your admiring friends will marvel at its beauty and speculate as to how the artist managed to get that perfect, tiny paw print inside the glass. How did he make it appear to float among your pet's ashes and the blue glass? Suspended from its black satin cord, this amazing glass pendant rests flat against your body, keeping memories of your deceased pet close.

The artist provides for those who never wear pendants as well. A man may order a glass cremation marble containing ashes from his unforgettable pet.

You are not limited to one memorial, either. When a pet passes on, more than one family member will miss it. You can order a variety of these artistic pet cremation pendants, or order identical ones for each member of the family.

The artist has provided a simple kit for you to use. He mails it to you when you order. You just place one scoop (about 1/4 tsp) of ashes in the small jar he sends for each memorial you order. You put the jar in his prepaid mailing envelope. You may also add photos or written memories of the pet you want to remember. The artist promises to review everything before making your custom memorials. You drop the prepaid envelope in the mail, and if you have questions, ask the artist directly without any customer service or middleman.

Mark, the artist at adsthumb.com gives a hint of the care he will give your personal pet cremation ash jewelry when he writes, "After experiencing the loss of 3 close friends and my big tom cat Leo, I decided to put my skills to use in the service of others who'd lost people and pets close to them." That attitude makes these pendants truly personal ways to remember your pet after it has passed on.

CONCLUSION

Even if your pet, like Daisy, has been suffering a harsh illness, the actual death leaves you in grief. You cannot bring the pet back to life, but you can keep its memory alive by choosing one of many ways to remember your pet after it has passed on. Take your time, and choose well.

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[bite-me-applesign]

‘you said would save me’

i promise at least one of these posts will be happy one day but for right now, my mind is a complete mess and my head might concave if i don’t say what i need to say. if you wish to remain in a stable mood, please don’t read further.

in continuing with my release of my most tragic thoughts that i would never say out loud the topic of this post will be: heartbreak.

in my experience, heartbreak can take many different forms and be caused by many different reasons. something as simple as not receiving an answer from the person you seek it from the most can sting like hell. and then you have the more severe forms that come from relationships not working out for one reason or another.

it’s a controversial thing to describe someone like me as broken (this will become clear in a future post). but i said it in my last post and i stand by it. i’m not really sure for how long i’ve felt this way. when you go through a lot the lines start to become blurred and you sort of lose sight of which one thing ‘broke’ you. i feel like any one situation could make someone feel like they have been broken, and so to have multiple situations that affect you... yikes.

the following points will aim to pinpoint exactly how i came to be this way. some of these details i have shared with very few people or never at all. but if i’m gonna write from experience, then i should probably share those experiences and be as honest as i can be.

when i was still very young, my mother became ill. she has a condition known as multiple sclerosis (ms) which affects the brain and nervous system resulting in so many problems occurring. it gets progressively worse over time which means that she is now left unable to have her own independence and can’t do things that me and you take for granted every single day. it seems like she has had this condition my whole life and so i don’t know exactly what age i was when she was diagnosed. but even if she was only diagnosed today while i’m a young adult, nothing could have prepared for me for how our family dynamic would change.

it continues to break my heart every day.

i thought that being able to deal with a situation like this made me strong. but that was put to the test late last year. when my dad also became ill. hearing the dreaded ‘c’ word tore me apart. i can’t imagine what goes through the mind of anyone who is told that they have such an awful condition. i don’t mean to make it seem like my feelings were in any way more important than my parents who are actually living through these things. you could see me as a selfish person but i didn’t know how i would be able to deal with having my life turned upside down once again.

i went on a night out shortly after his diagnosis and after being let down once again by someone i thought might want to have a future with me, i was so broken that i didn’t know how i could take much more. i decided to tell my friends i was leaving and heading home since my mood had been killed. one of them came with me but he ended up in a taxi before me which meant that i was alone.

i don’t hold any of the people that i was with or spoke to on that night accountable for what i’m about to share should any of them read this. no one could have possibly known what was going in my life, as many of them still do not.

that night i thought i was going to die. i had all intentions of slipping away and leaving behind everything that was hurting me. i started walking towards a place where i knew many had done what i wanted to do. i wanted out of the life that kept throwing things at me that i didn’t know how to deal with. i didn’t remember this part until thinking back to that night before i started writing this post. i thought i had came to my senses so to speak and i knew that my family would need me at this time more than ever so i made my way home.

but before that happened i bumped into a guy. i don’t even remember what he looked like now but i remember he was from puerto rico because i tried speaking spanish to him and he replied so fluently that i burst out laughing. i only know the words ‘hola’ and ‘pobrecita’. it’s crazy to think that maybe that guy saved my life that night. all from a five minute alcohol-induced conversation that on any other night would have meant nothing to me.

i guess what i’m trying to say is that heartbreak can sometimes be so overwhelming. there’s a quote from one of my most favourite humans in the world that said ‘if you never break, you’ll never know how much pressure you can take’. being pushed to our breaking points makes us come out so much stronger in the end.

perhaps being ‘broken’ isn’t such a bad thing. once we come out of the darkness we’re often surrounded with, we’ll be able to shine brighter than we ever did before.

and i can’t wait for that day to come.

end.

[t4194]

GIFT

Kuroko No Basuke — Tadatoshi Fujimaki Gift — t41g4 Please understand, if : Character in this fanfic could be very OOC, my grammar is very bad, errors of writing everywhere, plot is not clear and confusing, and various other mistakes. .. He had never seen that blue-haired man so busy for the rest of him life, even though they had decided to stay together for a rather long time—from the end of high school. But still, for Taiga to have Daiki is everything he needs in this world, because he is his world. Even so, in fact Taiga did not refuse when Daiki give his gift. It is not expensive. But Taiga is sure, he will remember the gift from Daiki for the rest of him life. .. Taiga was’n sure how much time the lazy man spent studying this, he really looked stunning in a tight old cowboy suit and hugged him so tightly, and Taiga would not lie if Daiki looked so hot right now. Him navy's hair was hidden inside a broad brown hat, while the man smelled of wood. Totally burn Taiga from inside. It was like Taiga wanted to wrap his arms around him all night long, and be in the strong arm's sleeves and comfortable thick muscles. Maybe he'll do it while they sleep. Because now Daiki looks very excited, and it seems like it will last for a few hours later. Seeing what is happening now, incomplete if it does not discuss everything from scratch. What else if you see how this morning Daiki is still asleep so soundly on their bed when Taiga went to work. And when Taiga came home he was startled by the outages of all the lights in their small apartment. Taiga thinks it has something to do with the damage and thinks of calling the electrician immediately, if Daiki did not light a candle in the middle of the room. The light shone on his strong face. Afterwards, Daiki lit another candle and made the room filled with candle light. The tantalizing scent came from the center of the table. A rather lavish banquet and many neatly arranged above it—which Taiga believes results Daiki delivery. At that Taiga could only frowned confused with the situation around them. Until Daiki starts turning on his music player. Excerpts of the guitar sounded later. And it feels like Taiga knows the song. Daiki leaned in with a hot, dangerous glance, making Taiga feel the hair on his neck stand up. He approached to close the door of their apartement, before hugging Taiga's waist from behind. They lightly follow the rhythm until Daiki sings the lyrics. — Si sabes que ya llevo un rato mirándote, Tengo que bailar contigo hoy His voice was hoarse and a little awkward, making Taiga unable to laugh at him. That means, Hey ~ it's completely different, Daiki never spoke Spanish before, and Taiga sure, he must be trying hard to do it. Perhaps he took Spanish lessons without Taiga knowing or maybe he studied independently, remembering if Daiki was really smart, his only fault was that he was very lazy. Taiga just know what Daiki wants to say through the lyrics. They rarely spend time together, even just to hug and kiss. Considering how they work. — Vi que tu mirada ya estaba llamándome... Muéstrame el camino que yo voy, oh... And the lyrics are not much better. It made him feel more embarrassed. How can a firefighter who returns with a sweaty body can be included in a calling category? And Taiga thinks it's sweet enough to say to someone who just got home from work. Then the music began to change a little more fun, and their body shake changed. Daiki twisted it until they faced each other, and whispered something to Taiga's ear while blowing his breath while his hand was still on Taiga's hip. — Tú, tú eres el imán y yo soy el metal Me voy acercando y voy armando el plan Sólo con pensarlo se acelera el pulso Oh, yeah... Daiki tapped his shoe on the floor and now his arms wrapped around Taiga's body. The eyes of the deep color of the ocean stared Taiga deep into his soul. And Taiga thinks they are really the right moment. — Ya, ya me está gustando más de lo normal... Todos mis sentidos van pidiendo más... Esto hay que tomarlo sin ningún apuro... Fix it back, until Taiga thinks he will fall. But Daiki caught it appropriately, until their position seemed to do a dance, maybe a tango or maybe a flamenco that Taiga thought. Although in the end not both. — Des-pa-cito Quiero respirar tu cuello despacito Deja que te diga cosas al oído Para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo — Des-pa-cito Quiero desnudarte a besos despacito.. Firmo en las paredes de tu laberinto Y hacer de tu cuerpo todo un manuscrito Daiki threw a gentle smile at Taiga before kissing his forehead. Daiki thought he needed to praise himself for singing his lyrics appropriately while teasing Taiga. Then Daiki let Taiga out in the middle of the room and circled it while patting his hand on the air. Make Taiga laugh amused. — Quiero ver bailar tu pelo Quiero ser tu ritmo... Que le enseñes a mi boca Tus lugares favoritos Taiga smiled sheepishly before trying to get closer to Daiki, he thought he wanted to hide his face on a man neck. But Daiki just touched their noses, before retreating backward to finish the song. — Déjame sobrepasar tus zonas de peligro Hasta provocar tus gritos Y que olvides tu apellido Taiga saw a small fang sticking out of Daiki's thin lips and it made him furious to pinch his muscular arms. Daiki took a breath before he started singing the hard lyrics—which he practiced until he felt his tongue split open. — Si te pido un beso ven dámelo Yo sé que estás pensándolo Llevo tiempo intentándolo Mami, estoy dando y dándolo Sabes que tu corazón conmigo te hace bom bom Sabes que esa beba está buscando de mi bom bom Daiki signaled Taiga for him to come closer, before pulling the red-haired man to sway with him. — Ven prueba de mi boca para ver como te sabe Quiero, quiero, quiero ver cuánto amor a ti te cabe Yo no tengo prisa, yo me quiero dar el viaje Empecemos lento, después salvaje Taiga laughed a few times while Daiki screeched his forehead as he sang the lyrics. — Pasito a pasito, suave suavecito Nos vamos pegando, poquito a poquito Cuando tú me besas con esa destreza Veo que eres malicia con delicadeza Daiki makes funny movements by shaking his shoulders—or just Kagami who thinks so. Seeing how her effort to look romantic Taiga could not possibly not give him a short kip in him dark cheek. — Pasito a pasito, suave suavecito Nos vamos pegando, poquito a poquito Y es que esa belleza es un rompecabezas Pero pa' montarlo aquí tengo la pieza Now Daiki walked forward-backward as he shuffled his shoulders and flicked his hand. While Taiga does what he can. He never really danced before. But Taiga thinks Daiki is just as awkward as him too. — Des-pa-cito Quiero respirar tu cuello despacito Deja que te diga cosas al oído… Para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo — Des-pa-cito, Quiero desnudarte a besos despacito Firmo en las paredes de tu laberinto Y hacer de tu cuerpo todo un manuscrito   Taiga laughed as Daiki hugged him and whispered the song's lyrics for Taiga to hear it. His warm breath tickled him. And they rocked while hugging tightly. Missed some lyrics that should be sung. Taiga thinks it's because Daiki is tired. That means talking in a language that is not a daily language would be difficult. — Des-pa-cito Vamos a hacerlo en una playa en Puerto Rico Hasta que las olas griten "¡Ay, Bendito!" Para que mi sello se quede contigo And it becomes the last lyrics that Daiki sung before he closes his show by force by stealing a deep and forceful kiss from Taiga. Make Taiga laugh in their kisses. "Why?" He asked with a pout while their music player still rang, buzzing the song quietly. "I just do not think you're going to sing in Spanish," Taiga replied as he kissed him in his dark blue hair. "My friend in the office says giving surprise to your partner who shows your feelings and a candlelight dinner will make your partner feel he is the luckiest person in the world." Taiga smiled "Of course I'm lucky, who else will see Aomine Daiki wearing Maji Burger's mascot in the middle of a basketball court to say its feelings, if not me." His dark cheeks flushed "Did I tell you not to talk about it anymore," he said angrily, while Taiga just laughed amused before kissing him again. "Feliz cumpleaños, querido. Sorry I have more time for work, I hope you will not take me off for that. " Taiga laughed "Even if I'm going to throw you away, I think it's because of your often annoying attitude." Daiki laughs before lifting his waist and turning Taiga in the air. Makes Taiga screaming afraid—just imagine, their weight and height are not much different. "I love you," Daiki said before kissing Taiga slowly. .. Fin .. Song: Luis Fonsi & Daddy Yankee - Despacito Well ~~ I do not really know this problem or how about the advice of Aomine friends #lol This is probably because I'm not experienced about it #cry I made this fanfic because I saw a video gymnastics on youtube using this song #dontlaugh and I think this song is more pleasant to hear my ears for a long time, it's a matter of taste ok! I hope you took the time to hear it, especially when reading this fanfic. Sorry for a lot of errors that may occur. I can not speak good and true Spanish and for English it's the same too #lol Thanks btw already read Feliz cumpleaños Taiga ~~~ Btw its to damn late~~~ sorry #slap

[mitasb-blog]

Camden Invincible

The clock reads 10:12 PM, I have a can of Red Bull, and I am writing this on the back of my first 18.03 pset. Almost two days ago I came back from Camden, and I find it quite hard to fixate on the fact that I have returned to my regular routine. To be honest, I have not fully processed the events of the past week: the conversation I had, the friends I made, and the back pain rom lifting boxes of chicken. As such, I will compile here several events of the week, so as to at least wrap my head, and hopefully your head, around a certain town across the river from Philly.  

            Let us start on Thursday, at the Fellowship House. There, school children go after school hours to play, work on school assignments, and deplete their endless reservoir of energy. Our role was to help the kids finish their homework and keep an eye on them outside. Surprise: no kids actually had homework for Easter break. With this sudden loss of responsibility, I essentially turned into one of the kids. I even ate snacks and colored an Easter flag. Amidst this, there of course had to be an actual adult guiding the activities. However, in many cases, it was not adults who taught the children; it was teenagers from the local community. These are the street leaders. You may think of them as Teaching Assistants, except that they have to look after a room of children with way more energy and willpower than a 4-pack of Red Bull can give you. If you want to find hope in Camden, look no further than the daily efforts of the people at the Fellowship House.

            And, speaking of hope, on Tuesday night we met the one and only Dimitrius, a high school junior who holds the position of Senior Farmer at the Center for Environmental Transformation’s (CFET) urban gardens. He talked to us about his life in Camden: how he grew up in a sheltered environment and how he faced a broader reality when he entered middle school. And yet, beside this, he had the chance to build his own self through the responsibilities and challenges he posed accepted. Aside from farming at CFET for over five years, he helped create and market an original hot sauce that sold out after its initial release. He is also very engaged with environmental policy and has traveled around the country pursuing this topic. Yet, despite his and other students’ talents, there was not much support from his school in the college admissions process. Of course, we poured our fresh college applications knowledge unto him, but it is sad that other students do not get these benefits. It is even sadder that, for many, there is not even hope in sight. Because of this, I am glad that people like Dimitrius and the street leaders are role models that younger kids can look up to.

            Speaking of younger kids, first and second graders are awesome. From Monday to Wednesday, we visited the Sacred Heart School, a Catholic school that teaches from kindergarten to 8th grade. On Monday, Tina and I helped the first graders finish their schoolwork. I was surprised at the kids’ eagerness to learn: they were actually trying to understand the problems, as opposed to just asking me for the solution. This made the tutoring process all the more enjoyable and, perhaps, hinted at the joy of teaching.  

            The kids mostly had maths homework, so much of my time was spent summing large numbers and dividing. It was in this moment of intellectual glory that I met my weakness: subtraction. Yes, I can subtract large numbers after spending a minute per digit, but I failed to explain how it worked. So, I gave up and moved on to something else.

…

I sometimes wonder how I passed 18.01.

…

After the kids were all done with work, we played games and built with Legos. These were fun times.

            It also never occurred to me that I would give back to these kids anything aside from a small amount of tutoring and someone to play with. That is probably all I could serve them with. However, in this discourse I realized that a college student has a particular ability to portray the joy of pursuing what makes you tick. Upon later conversations with Dimitrius, he talked about how many students from Camden go into college and never return, so younger students have few people to talk with about achievement beyond high school. This exchange made me think of my own responsibility toward my own homeland, Puerto Rico, which I left in the pursuit of my dreams and which I hope to serve back to. Despite all its problems, Puerto Rico is where I grew up and it’s the land I love.

            We also got to serve people just a bit more advanced in the age spectrum. Almost every day, we visited nonprofits that offer food or shelter to people in need. I am not a very social Homo Sapiens, but I managed to speak to the people there. It is quite easy for me to see a mass of individuals and label them under the same category, but I know this is unjust. I discovered much diversity, from the lady working at two schools as a cross road guard to the gentleman who knows all about whaling and beer. I also got to talk to some of the workers at the different centers. One in particular told me that I had to understand that many people are unable to move in life despite their hard work. Is effort meaningless, then? Is life dictated by an unfair balance of privilege and circumstance?  I do not wield the answers to these questions but I have hope that dedication is worth it, wherever that takes you. I have seen it in Camden, at Puerto Rico, at MIT, and in myself.

            I should, of course, mention gardening. Dean is the head farmer at CFET. This whole growing plants thing, he says, is both his work and therapy. On Monday, we experienced some of it. We split up the tasks and my group got to shovel compost and take it to the garden. This sounds simple enough, but soon enough I found myself with sore hands (my arms were fine, curiously) and little more than willpower as I made the last trip to the garden. Despite this, I enjoyed the work and was surprised at how people like Dean and Dimitrius do this every day. We need more farmers in the urban world.

            And, last but not least, I learned much from the people with which I was locked inside a house. Service is much more meaningful and introspective when working as a team. Not only are tasks completed more efficiently, but one can absorb other people’s thoughts. Everything I learned this week is somehow related to our nightly reflections. So, let me say it just once: we are and always will be friends.

            That being said, I am compelled to respond to our fearless leader Maedeh’s first post in the ASB blog. I was part of the “other van” that “cheated”. I shall of course provide some context. It was in fact team 4 Fast 4 Furious who ditched us at the Alexander Hamilton rest stop in New Jersey. After waiting for them for around fifteen minutes, they never arrived despite texting us that they were there. So, we proceeded our travels. Indeed, they were the first to arrive at Camden, at least according to a text we received from them, but they never told us they were waiting for us nor did we express desire for them to wait outside. So, we got to CFET and unloaded our van. To our surprise, we were the first team there. Thus, Teresa, the CFET Director, named us Team One (our actual team name, which Maedeh commented we lacked). From there on, we got almost everywhere before team 4 Fast 4 Furious, until we merged and started calling ourselves team X Fast X Furious where 5<x<11. And that, reader, is a totally unbiased account of our rivalry.

…

There is much left to be said, such as our visit to Brother’s Mickey’s art studio, Cathedral Kitchen, lifting four tons of chicken, the time a girl asked me if I was from England, the Rowan students, and our trip to the carnival. Still, it is 12:14 AM and I need to sleep. For now, that is all.

Ad Astra Per Aspera

-Ricardo (Rainbowchardo)

PS. Red Bull tastes weird 

PSS. Sorry about not including pictures. I am rather lazy today. 

[multiracialmedia-blog]

Sarah's World Beat: My DNA Test Results

Back at the end of November I wrote about my DNA story. Both my husband (a monoracial Black man) and I ordered DNA kits from Ancestry.com, and I knew within a few weeks I’d have my DNA test results. I wasn’t sure whether it would vindicate or validate me but whatever they were, I was going to live with them and as I have done for the last 50 years, make the best of them.

My DNA test results are in!

Well, my DNA test results came in over a month ago and I am only just now allowing them to sink in. I have known since I was a little girl that I am made from three races and multiple ethnicities. My parents told us early on about our ethnicity because it played such a big part in their relationship.

My father George Orick on the left and my mother Emily Allen Orick on the right.

As the story goes, my mother was half Black and half Japanese. She represented such stark physical and cultural contrasts to my father whose ethnicities were purported to be German, Dutch and Irish. Unfortunately for my father, whose father was racist toward both of my mother’s ethnicities, when my father announced to his parents he was marrying my mother, his father’s reaction was swift, and it couldn’t have been more clear where he stood on the matter: he disowned my father.

My parents were married in 1960, seven years ahead of the landmark SCOTUS decision allowing for interracial marriage nationwide. Societial attitudes toward interracial marriage mimicked those of my father’s father: anything from disapproval to genuine disgust. Given the racism of the time (if you can imagine, it was worse than it is now), both of my parents made a conscious decision to raise my two brothers and me to self-identify as Black. DNA testing wasn’t available back then, but I’ll tell you this, I didn’t need my DNA test results to prove to myself who I was: a very light complected Black person who walked through the world as a White person.

Before I had my DNA test results to prove or disprove anything, I assumed I was (racially speaking) 1/4 Black, 1/4 Asian and 1/2 White. There had been some discussion that we may be Prussian on my dad’s side and possibly French and English on my mother’s. The Prussian was a rumor based off the fact that my father’s father was supposedly the illegitimate son of the former King of Prussia. The English and French would have come from previous slave owners. Given the results of my DNA test, it looks like the rumors about my father’s father are probably true.

As far having French and English in me, I figured this was likely. After all slave owners repeatedly raped their slaves, thus muting the Blackness in many slaves generation after generation. While I knew this on an intellectual level, it hadn’t occurred to me on an emotional level that the French and English would be deducted, as it were, from the 1/4 Black.

And they did.

My DNA test results reveal quite a bit more White than I’d previously believed.

  My DNA test results reveled “just” 18% Black, which was a shocker. The Japanese is spot on with what I was raised to believe.

According to my DNA test results, I am 56% White, 25% Asian (no surprise there) and only 18% African American. (1% comprises what Ancestry.dom calls “trace regions, meaning all of our ancestors—no matter who we are—were nomads and we picked up a little of this and a little of that in their travels.) When I look at my complexion, my facial and body features, my curly but not kinky hair (like my mother’s was), I believe that my DNA test results are correct. I am very light complected, and while I have some features to suggest there’s some “otherness” going on, I think it’s pretty clear to everyone looking at me it doesn’t add up to even half of who I am.

Ben, my mother is holding me and Nicholas. This photo was taken in Nigeria, circa January 1967.

What’s confusing to me is whether my older brother, whose complexion is darker than mine has “more” Black in him than I do and “less” of something else? I doubt he’ll ever take a DNA test to find out. He doesn’t appear to care, so I may never know.

My DNA Test Results: Validation or Vindication?

Initially I was angry about my DNA test results. I thought about every slave who was raped by her slave owner and the “consequence” it had on me. The consequence being that nobody takes me seriously when I tell them I am Black—not Black because of how I look but because of the way I was raised. Was I being punished? I asked myself this question over and over. That’s where the notion of vindication comes in. Had I all these years been, as the expression from the 1980s goes, “perpetratin’ the fraud?” or could I not “be held responsible” because I have no control over what slave owners did back then?

Or had my DNA test results given me validation: not that I am “less” Black, ergo “less than,” but rather truly the multiracial, multiethnic and multicultural person my parents REALLY raised us to be?

Sure, they raised us to self-identify as Black because it was a sign of the times. My brothers and I were born in the 1960s. It was the height of the Civil Rights Movement, the rise and reign of the Black Panther Party, the one-drop rule, and a time when Blacks were fighting for basic civil rights that White people took and still take for granted.

At the same time they wanted us to identify this way because of the time period in which we were raised, they also raised us to appreciate culture in all its forms from around the world.

The first seven years of my parents’ marriage we lived in Nigeria. My brothers and I were all born during this time. Also during those seven years (we moved back to the United States in 1967) we spent time in Morocco, France and Greece. As we grew up, our parents traveled with us around the country and took us to Europe several times. They encouraged us to travel on our own, which I did while I was single and continue to now that I am married to Paul.

My guess is that if my parents were my age now and my brothers and I were teenagers, we wouldn’t be raised to self-identify as Black, or White or Japanese but a beautiful blend of all three (as is the case with the way most offspring of interracial relationships are being raised) but on a macro level, as a citizen of the world.

Sarah’s World Beat: My DNA test results (I am in the blue shirt, my husband Paul is next to me and Paul’s sister is below him with blonde hair). Everyone else are very good friends, living here in Puerto Rico. In fact, we could tell people we are Puerto Rican and nobody would question it.

Already raised to appreciate the food, customs, language, art, music, history, writing and culture in general from every country, and continuing this tradition with my husband (we moved to Puerto Rico several years ago), perhaps all my DNA test results have reveled is that I am not either/or, one or the other or even limited to all three, but that I am a multicultural person who sees beauty and fascination in all cultures.

Rather than focus solely on my own identity and whatever my DNA test results reveal, isn’t the point of Multiracial Media to celebrate the races, ethnicities and cultures of all people around the world?

In upcoming Sarah’s World Beat columns, I will feature cultures I have direct knowledge of, ones I have long been curious about and ones I know absolutely nothing about but if I had the money, I’d fly there and learn about. If you’d like me to write about your culture and customs for a future Sarah’s World Beat column, please use the submit button and tell me about it. Make sure I know how to contact you and I would be honored to feature your country and customs.

  Sarah’s World Beat: My DNA Test Results if you want to check out other voices of the Multiracial Community click here Multiracial Media