#and in terms of wealth and family status she's the most privileged of them all let's be honest

[malachitezmeyka]

More post-SotRL stuff bc posting on tumblr is easier than actually writing it

After the Kids (a.k.a Suiren, Midori, Opal, Kuvira and Bolin) (none of them are kids but that's probably what the RL call them) successfully break Zaheer out and get him to the hideout, there will obviously be a big emotions fest between the RL. Like, he thought they were dead, they had no idea what happened to him, P'Li's his lover, Mingzan may be mad at him for the whole earthly tethers thing but he's still their friend and they still missed him... Yeah. While all that is happening they forget about the kids for a second but after the initial tears cease, they turn around and find the five of them just... passed out together in a heap on the floor

[theiconicmeghanmarkle]

The thing that most people can’t get their heads around is that most people would do anything to be part of that elite circle. And that’s what people find mind-boggling, especially about her. That she would get the golden ticket into a world of wealth, status and privilege and choose to walk away? Who does that?

Well, someone who is incredibly strong, knows her self-worth in terms of her mental health and boundaries and has the self-confidence to know she can make it on her own (with her family). I think that’s why so many people hate her. Because we’ve all had moments in our life where we wanted to be that person but couldn’t afford it, or needed the job, but dreamed of it. Many probably resent her because she had the means and the balls to do it.

She also had the courage and audacity to take on the most powerful establishments on the planet and call out bullying and toxic behavior towards her. All this as the mixed race, American, divorcee from a more modest background. A woman who should have been grateful – not the person who took them on and left on her own terms and defiant. She was meant to disappear with shame, not carry on having a voice and agency over her life. She disrupted the fairy-tale narrative about being a princess and exposed it for what it really is – a lonely, subservient, controlled human mannequin. She also shone a harsh light on how the myth of the royal family struggles with real scrutiny in a modern, multicultural, changing world.

[kuwtsussexes]

Snubbing King Charles’ coronation is Meghan Markle’s smartest move yet

“The thing that most people can’t get their heads around is that most people would do anything to be part of that elite circle. A good friend chided me about them. “Why can’t they just suck it up for all the money and parties?” And that’s what people find mind-boggling, especially about her. That she would get the golden ticket into a world of wealth, status and privilege and choose to walk away? Who does that?

Well, someone who is incredibly strong, knows her self-worth in terms of her mental health and boundaries and has the self-confidence to know she can make it on her own (with her family). I think that’s why so many people hate her. Because we’ve all had moments in our life where we wanted to be that person but couldn’t afford it, or needed the job, but dreamed of it. Many probably resent her because she had the means and the balls to do it.

She also had the courage and audacity to take on the most powerful establishments on the planet and call out bullying and toxic behaviour towards her. All this as the mixed race, American, divorcee from a more modest background. A woman who should have been grateful – not the person who took them on and left on her own terms and defiant. She was meant to disappear with shame, not carry on having a voice and agency over her life. She disrupted the fairy-tale narrative about being a princess and exposed it for what it really is – a lonely, subservient, controlled human mannequin. She also shone a harsh light on how the myth of the royal family struggles with real scrutiny in a modern, multicultural, changing world.

So once again, I salute her. She’s made the right call. For her mental health and for her family. Like the rest of us, she can enjoy it from the comfort of her very expensive, cream sofa with some good snacks.”

Opinion by Ayesha Hazarika

[spaceheelies]

i could honestly write a review that would rival an SJM novel in length about all the problems i have with her books in terms of like the problematic relationship dynamics and toxic sexuality and the built-in heteronormativity/gender essentialism of her worldbuilding (specifically the mating bond shit) all of that. but what stands out to me more and more is just the sheer amount of socioeconomic privilege that seeps through that she refuses to reflect on or challenge in any way. and i think it is only growing more apparent with each new work, especially since she does not seem to have an editor to speak of anymore or at least seems to have full creative control.

i get that a big appeal of ACoTaR is the power fantasy. the indulgence of this idea of being a poor girl plucked out obscurity and pulled into this world of magic and stunning gowns and jewelry and the most powerful men in the world, who are all breathtakingly gorgeous powerful hunks with huge dongs and out-of-control sex drives, and they are all fighting over you, and you are so beautiful and also can use a sword and have magic powers. ok fine that’s fun. but reading something like a court of silver flames, you can simply tell the woman who wrote it has never worked in a minimum wage customer service job or had a shitty 9 to 5 in her life. listening to podcast interviews with her and things like that, she obviously comes from a very privileged background and has never had to worry about money. and i don’t want to suggest that working a shitty job or being anywhere lower than upper middle class automatically makes you a better person or gives you a fundamental understanding of the universe or whatever. judging someone for having a family or support system that can help them out financially would make me a hypocrite. however - and i can’t say this 100% because i never finished throne of glass - but sjm does not seem to know how to write from the perspective of anyone but the unfathomably wealthy and powerful. any of the few attempts she does make to write about characters who are marginalized, underprivileged, or come from a background that isn’t royalty or aristocracy is shallow at best and tone-deaf at worst.

ACoTaR literally starts with feyre almost starving to death living in a tiny cabin with a disabled father and two adult sisters who have been rendered seemingly incapable of helping her out because their previous privilege left them with a) no monetizable or useful skills and b) a debilitating sense of entitlement. there is no attempt from this point on to make any kind of significant statement about the oppression of humans in this world or the effect feyre’s previous socioeconomic status had on her worldview or the value of learning a profession anything that might be interesting. she gets whisked into the faerie world and from then on enjoys pretty much unlimited wealth, power, and privilege. the disenfranchised humans she left behind all deserved to be dirt poor and subjected to horrific fae violence because they were kind of mean to her anyways. i honest to god do not believe sjm intended to have nesta and elain become major characters when she wrote the first book, until she realized she could pair them off with other hot fae men. any meaningful statement she could have used them to make is abandoned in the face of squeezing spin-off books out of them to make more money and drag out the series.

it is so baffling to me how sjm can even write a protagonist who starts, on the first page of book one, starving and nearly homeless trying to feed four mouths single-handedly. to then look at book four and have this same girl married/mated to a man who is delegating construction on their FIFTH!!!! mansion, after a war that has canonically left a good chunk of their population destitute, homeless, and bereft of their breadwinners. the most baffling action i think i have ever seen a character take in any novel is rhysand demolishing nesta’s apartment building so she cannot move back in and therefore will have to stop drinking and sleeping around. rhysand destroys people’s homes in the middle of a housing crisis just to spite his sister-in-law, and i can’t remember if we are ever given any idea as to whether or not the other tenants of the building were relocated or if he has just left them on the streets. this is the man sjm has spent thousands of pages hammering home how good of a leader he is, how selfless, how fair. we are constantly told how good he is, what a utopia velaris is, but idk how you can sit here and tell me a character demolishing an apartment building to spite one person because he thinks she spends too much money on wine, while he is simultaneously wrapping up construction on his FIFTH!!!! mansion, does not sound like the fucking villain of the series. this is our hero. this is the utopia we are supposed to want to live in. i deadass think we are supposed to root for the idea of all the courts uniting under him as like an emperor in future books. i need to go outside and touch grass fr because it like makes me physically ill how many middle to upper class white women i see on my instagram feed propping rhysand up as the perfect romantic hero, the standard that the men in their real lives should aspire to, when he is simply an overpowered, out-of-control monster.

when the series was being told from feyre’s perspective, sjm really tried to push the fact that she WAS rhysand’s equal, that she’s the first high lady in prythian’s history, that he wants her to challenge him or whatever the fuck, hash tag girl boss slay diva werk. am i supposed to believe that the girl who started out starving and nearly homeless just sits in her fifth mansion, pregnant, painting and waving at the people and doing paperwork and being constantly available for sex while her husband is out demolishing people’s homes on a whim. i could go into even more detail about how the absurd wealth and power and privilege ties into sjm’s very obvious internalized misogyny, surface-level white feminism, inability to challenge gender roles in any truly significant way, and often even enforce those gender roles, but this post is already way longer than i thought it was going to be and it is 3 in the morning i have to go to bed.

the very last thing i have to say is that it’s boring. reading thousand page books where everyone is rich, overpowered, hot, unkillable, and young forever is fucking boring. sick of this shit. where are the ugly people where are the poor people. there is no spice of life

[flopgirlsummer]

these past couple of weeks i've come to realize that I seriously need to reevaluate some of the friendships i'm in and whether I want to uphold them or not. i've always known that a couple of my childhood friends and acquaintances are relatively conservative but since we live in different states I didn't quite realise how conservative and elitist some of them had become. a couple of weeks ago I talked to some of them about citizen's benefit income (?? Bürgergeld in Germany) which is a program that people without any income can apply for, in order to receive income to cover their basic needs through the state. one of my closest childhood friends just point blank announced that she thinks most people should not receive any money. partially, because she thinks that the people's who are receiving these benefits are lazy and unambitious, and partially, because she is of the opinion that she is being taxed too much (she's a doctor). I was honestly shocked. this might not be a controversial opinion to have in other countries, but in Germany that's quite far right in terms of ideology, I'd say. anyways, she then married equally conservative guy and now that I have a chance to talk to her extended family, I am even more concerned. they are all quite well off and really nice and lovely to talk to, but the emphasis on generation values and wealth when you speak to any of them is disconcerting. I'm not used to these types of opinions and values being the norm anymore. it felt really alien and upsetting to me. solely being focused on status and wealth is the type of life I am really trying to avoid living, wich sounds ridiculous and privileged (because it is lol). i am definitely not from the same circles but a know how to work them so I kind of fit in from their perspective. however, I know I don't and I do not want to either. as a black, queer woman I am just not super comfortable with some of my friends having such pejorative attitudes towards people who have not been treated as kindly in life. so I guess these feelings of alienation and disappointment have just been weighing on my mind lately. I still want to remain friends with her, but not on a particularly deep level, I guess. at the same time, I want to scream at her for being so narrow-minded and exclusionary. I don't know, it just sucks to come to the realisation that people whose personal friendship you value can be extremely hostile towards people they don't even know. it being pride moth just also kind of reminded me of the different lives we are living and how we view others and how different the things we deal with daily really are.

[ikeromantic]

Hero's Welcome

A Mitsuhide Akechi story, this scene occurs toward the end of Ch. 13 in the romantic route. Spoilers! Approx. 2500 words.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Delicious SFW/NSFW

As the walls of Azuchi drew closer, Mitsuhide felt a wave of relief. Of course, it was followed shortly by a new tension. He wasn’t sure if Nobunaga would grant him the right to marry his little one, or if he did, what the condition of that union might be. It was practical to make your first bride a political alliance - to give the place of privilege to a powerful family’s daughter. But Mitsuhide had no stomach for that.

He wanted just her.

The chatelaine didn’t seem to notice his reticence to return. In fact, she was practically bouncing on her toes in excitement. She kept walking faster, nearly running toward the city gate.

“There’s no reason to run, little mouse. Azuchi isn’t going anywhere.”

She stopped to turn and smile at him. “I’m just so glad to finally be home.”

Mitsuhide smiled and held out his hand. “Let’s go in together.”

Ranmaru and Hideyoshi were waiting for them.

Mitsuhide watched the cheerful page and wondered if Ranmaru knew that he knew . . . He would need to watch him even more carefully now. Kennyo knew his weakness and Ranmaru was perfectly positioned to take advantage of it.

Hideyoshi interrupted his train of thought with a restrained greeting. His eyes searched first the chatelaine and then Mitsuhide, looking for injuries. For signs of their struggle. “Welcome back,” he said.

“Happy to see us?” Mitsuhide’s thin smile turned his lips up at the corners.

“I am.”

The chatelaine hugged Ranmaru and then wrapped her arms around Hideyoshi. He awkwardly patted her head. “It’s good to see you.”

To Mitsuhide’s ear, his voice sounded strained, but the chatelaine didn’t seem to notice. She grinned up at him.

“I missed you! Both of you! Where is everyone else?”

Hideyoshi extracted himself from her embrace and nodded toward the castle. “Waiting for you both there. We weren’t sure you would make it back today.”

Ranmaru gave a sly smile. “Hideyoshi has been at the gates every day since we received word that the shogun has . . . decided to go into seclusion.”

“I haven’t,” Hideyoshi sputtered.

Mitsuhide shook his head. Hideyoshi was a terrible liar. “We best not keep the others waiting. Come, little one.”

The chatelaine took his hand again. Ranmaru and Hideyoshi led them back.

As they walked through the city, Mitsuhide took note of the mood there. People seemed largely unaware of the conflict, though he noted few merchants from outer provinces. Likely the result of the false conflict with Echigo. A small price to pay, considering the alternatives.

The shadow of Azuchi’s tenshu fell across Mitsuhide’s face as they drew up to the gates. Apropo, he thought, and squeezed his beloved’s hand. She would be his light in any shadow, even this one that came of his own choice.

Surprisingly, the other members of the Oda alliance were all there in the courtyard. Seeing them, his little mouse broke into a run. He could have let go of her hand, followed her in, but he never wanted to release her. Instead, he ran with her. He could tell this amused Nobunaga by the rise of his brows.

Ieyasu actually grinned. “Mitsuhide is actually running somewhere instead of slowly sauntering. I’ve seen everything now.”

Masamune waggled his eyebrows. Never one for subtlety, he said in a loud voice, “That was one hell of a sight!”

Mitsunari nodded, his angelic face lit by a sweet smile. “I understand them completely. I am so excited they are back.”

Ieyasu rolled his eyes and sighed.

Mitsuhide seconded that. “Have things been so empty in my absence that you all have an excess of free time to stand around in the courtyard?”

Hideyoshi frowned. “Free time? Do you have any idea how much time and energy we spent worrying about you both? You sent few enough messages and what you did send - “

“Ah, it’s been so long I almost forgot what one of your lectures felt like. Please. Do continue.”

The chatelaine giggled, Masamune snorted a laugh, and even Ieyasu cracked a small smile.

“Oh, I will,” Hideyoshi’s face flushed.

Before he could get up steam to really lay into Mitsuhide, Mitsunari came to the rescue. He laid a hand on Hideyoshi’s arm. “We really should get them both inside. They look tired and in need of refreshment. Should I prepare some tea?”

This was sufficient threat to unite the two men. “No,” both said in tandem.

Masamune took the chatelaine’s arm. “I’ve prepared some welcome home treats just for you.”

Mitsuhide might have intervened if Nobunaga had not taken that moment to speak. “Mitsuhide, and my chatelaine. You’ve returned.”

The two of them bowed, and brought Masamune with them as he hadn’t released the chatelaine just yet.

“We have, my lord.” Mitsuhide held his bow. Officially, he was disgraced and this was his crawl back to service. He had to play the part, much as it grated.

“You have done well, Mitsuhide.” Nobunaga’s voice was loud enough that the passing servants and guards would hear. A signal that the wayward kitsune was welcomed back with open arms.

Mitsuhide and his little mouse straightened. It was the welcome he’d hoped for, but hadn’t expected. Nobunaga could have left him in limbo - an uncertain status with conditional forgiveness. Of course, even with this pronouncement, Mitsuhide intended to stay at the fringes of the alliance. It was necessary.

Nobunaga then beckoned the chatelaine.

She let go of Mitsuhide’s arm. The absence of her made him feel unbalanced. He made as if to follow, but Hideyoshi and Masamune intercepted him.

“So?” Masamune’s one blue eye searched Mitsuhide’s face.

Hideyoshi’s jaw tightened. “She looks bruised. What happened?”

Mitsuhide gave them both his crescent moon smile. “The little mouse is a brave one. Now, if you don’t mind . . .”

“As it happens, I do. I have many questions about how this assignment wrapped up.” Hideyoshi’s expression was guarded. There was a wealth of brotherhood held tight behind walls of distrust and betrayal. He wasn’t ready to welcome the kitsune back with open arms.

“There’s no rush to report, Hideyoshi. I don’t plan on hiding or running from you.” Mitsuhide softened his smile. “Can we not celebrate our return first? Then I can provide an answer to all your questions. All together.”

Hideyoshi’s frown relented. “That would be a change.”

Masamune laughed as Mitsuhide nodded in agreement.

Though he would never admit it aloud, it felt good to be among friends. People who had shown time and again that they valued him. It hurt too. To know that his duty required their betrayal and may yet again.

Hideyoshi gestured to Ranmaru. “Make sure he doesn’t escape. I need to prepare a war council. Right now.”

Nobunaga and the chatelaine turned to look.

Ranmaru gave her a little bow. “I’m sorry my lady. I need to borrow Lord Mitsuhide for a bit. I promise to give him back.” His laugh was mischevious, high and false.

Nobunaga took the chatelaine’s hands. “We will speak again soon. I must attend to this.”

Mitsuhide waived to her, hoping to ease her sudden, worried look. “Why don’t you go rest now? I’ll be along soon.” He exchanged a look with Ieyasu, who thankfully understood what was needed.

She nodded, though she didn’t look happy about it.

“Mitsunari and I will walk you back to your rooms.” The young warlord took her arm gently.

Mitsunari was quick to follow. “Oh yes! Let’s walk together. You can tell me about your trip.” He smiled cheerily, as if oblivious to the tension.

Masamune looked between the chatelaine and Mitsuhide. “Think I’ll walk aways with the lass as well.”

“Good.” Nobunaga nodded. “You three can explain the current situation to her.”

When they disappeared into the castle grounds, Mitsuhide allowed Ranmaru to lead him to the council chamber. Nobunaga sat down at the head and Hideyoshi followed after.

“Ranmaru, bring us tea.”

The page bowed and left, casting a side-eyed glance at Mitsuhide once he did.

When only the three of them were left, Nobunaga spoke. “Your solution to the problem is novel, but carries with it some risk. There are still those that knew Yoshiaki personally.”

“Novel?” Hideyoshi sputtered. “All he did was delay the problem! When the emperor’s court learns what he’s done they’ll -”

“They won’t. The shogun will announce an interest in Buddhism and his need for solitude. This will keep most away. For the others . . . Kyubei and I will be there to guide him. I plan to keep an assistant at his side at all times.” Mitsuhide smiled. “And if it is discovered then, what says I had anything to do with it? Yoshiaki and I parted on amicable terms . . . if his scribe murders him in secret, it has nothing to do with me.”

Nobunaga thought about this in silence.

“You’re very sure of yourself.” Hideyoshi’s brows were drawn down, his face hard. “What happens if you’re wrong?”

“Then I will deal with whatever comes. Have I not done so, as long as you have known me?”

Hideyoshi gave a reluctant nod. “And the chatelaine? Why did you drag her into it? She was supposed to stay in Kyoto.” His voice rose on this question, stained with anger.

“I did leave her in Kyoto,” Mitsuhide sighed. “Yoshiaki went after her.”

Nobunaga’s face was impassive as he waited for additional explanation.

“His ninja kidnapped her and took her to the daimyo’s estate, bypassing our siege. He injured her,” Mitsuhide admitted. “But once in the estate, Kyubei was able to-”

“You couldn’t protect her from your enemies.” Hideyoshi’s voice was heavy with held emotion. “She was hurt because of you. She still has the bruises on her face, and who knows what other injuries! You - you-”

“Enough, Hideyoshi.” Nobunaga’s voice cracked like a whip. “The chatelaine was ordered to accompany him. She was hurt doing her duty. This fault does not lie on Akechi.”

Hideyoshi clamped his mouth shut, clearly not satisfied but unwilling to speak against Nobunaga.

“Yes, that is correct,” Mitsuhide inclined his head. “Even when our plans changed and she was captured, she performed admirably. Acting as both spy and distraction. I have a written report from Kyubei detailing their efforts, as well as some notes I took afterward.”

Nobunaga smiled. “So you come back to me having accomplished an impossible task. Yet I cannot publicly embrace you. Traitor twice over, and spy . . . what plan do you have now?”

Mitsuhide knew this was where things would get difficult. He faced it as he did most struggles. By smiling widely, his golden eyes like opaque windows giving nothing away. “I plan to be banished to my lands for a time, sent away with a bride to bind me to the Oda forces.”

Nobunaga’s eyebrows rose. Hideyoshi leapt to his feet.

“You can’t think-”

Ranmaru entered with the tea tray. “My lords?” He took in Mitsuhide’s smile and Hideyoshi’s posture. “I’ll just set this here.” He put the tray on the table, bowed, and left the room.

“Did you have a bride in mind,” Nobunaga asked after they were alone again. His gaze held a knowing light.

“I do.”

“You don’t get to betray us and then waltz back in, and, and, walk out with - she already - “ Hideyoshi didn’t seem to be able to finish his train of thought.

“Nobunaga Oda, my lord. I would humbly request permission to marry a princess in your keeping. You have already given your consent to our betrothal. I would take her into my family now.” Mitsuhide bowed low and held the position, waiting.

Hideyoshi, however, wasn’t going to let this moment pass. “No! My lord, you can’t really think that betrothal was serious! She’s half afraid of him! And - and just look at the state of her. She came back hurt. Because of him, his enemies - and it’s not the first time. He would drag her down with him. She deserves . . .”

“You?” Nobunaga’s voice was gentle, the question clear.

“My lord. I would keep her safe.” Hideyoshi bowed beside Mitsuhide.

“I am of a mind to let the fireball decide,” Nobunaga replied. “If I told her who she was going to marry, she’d likely refuse out of stubbornness.” He grinned. “She may not want either one of you.”

It was not the response Mitsuhide had hoped for. Not that he thought his little mouse would choose another - but he’d hoped Nobunaga would grant him this right clearly. Still, he rose and nodded. “As you will, my lord.”

Hideyoshi shot him a triumphant look. He clearly believed he’d be able to sway the girl. Which only proved he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did.

Masamune, Ieyasu, and Mitsunari filed in and sat down.

“Did we miss anything,” the one-eyed dragon asked. His smile said he knew more than he was letting on.

Nobunaga shrugged. “Mitsuhide asked for leave to marry the chatelaine. I’ve told him she will pick her husband.”

Mitsunari smiled brightly. “That’s very kind of you, my lord. I’m sure she’ll choose wisely.”

“I doubt it,” Ieyasu muttered.

Masamune laughed.

“Now, there are more important things to discuss.” Nobunaga’s lips thinned line. “Echigo is still a problem. And we know the Mouri have something planned. What is more, Kennyo still seeks me for revenge. We cannot rest yet. Mitsuhide, what is the rest of your report.”

It took hours to discuss what he’d learned of the Mouri and the remnants of the Ikko Ikki. Plus Masamune and Hideyoshi both had reports on Echigo and the false conflict they’d staged. By the time the discussion ended, it was well past dark.

Crickets chirped and the trees whispered in a cool, night breeze. Overhead, the stars shone like gems. Mitsuhide found himself appreciating all of it, even as he hurried out. He went to the chatelaine’s quarters to find her, but her rooms were empty. It barely looked like she’d been there.

He knew where she would be, if not there, and he smiled. His steps were light as he approached his estate. Kyubei met him at the entrance.

“My lord. She waits for you in your room.”

“Bold little mouse, isn’t she?”

Kyubei smiled and ran a hand over his short hair. “She is. Last I checked on her, she was reading as she waited, though she looks in need of rest.”

“That sounds like her.” Mitsuhide left Kyubei and continued to his room.

He slid the door open gently and stepped inside. The room was spotless, much as it had been when he was imprisoned. And there at his desk, sat his little mouse. A book was open in front of her, though her eyes were shut tight. Her head lay on the desk, cushioned by her arm. She looked so sweet, so innocent, that for a moment, Mitsuhide’s chest hurt.

His footsteps were almost silent as he crossed the room. His fingertips brushed gently down her hair and the sweep of her neck. “No matter how many times I see your sleeping face, I find it hard to look away.”

Mitsuhide shrugged out of his haori and laid it over her shoulders to keep her warm. Then he set up the bed. He kept expecting her to wake, but she didn’t stir. When the futon was ready, he carefully lifted her up. Cradled against his chest like this, he felt reluctant to set her down. Only knowing she’d be in his arms all night made the choice easier.

When he lay down, she turned her face to her chest and curled tight against him. Mitsuhide put his arm around her and closed his eyes. This was a true welcome home, he thought. Wherever she was, would be home to him.

Next: Loyalties

[thetypologymodel-archived]

MBTI: Crazy Rich Asians

Rachel Chu: ISFJ

I just love Nick so much; I don't want him to lose his mom again. So, I just wanted you to know: that one day—when he marries another lucky girl who is enough for you, and you're playing with your grandkids while the Tan Hua's are blooming, and the birds are chirping—that it was because of me: a poor, raised by a single mother, low class, immigrant nobody.

Rachel is a warm, grounded girl who is blindsided at every turn by Nick, his family, and his world. It never occurs to her that he might be more than who he says he is, or that Amanda might have ulterior motives, or about what kind of environment she's dealing with, or even the sort of opponent Eleanor might be. With one notable exception, Rachel is actually extremely skilled at getting people to like her. She is gracious and amiable, immediately connecting with Nick's friends, family members and even feels at ease around them once the initial shock wears off. And despite Eleanor's suppositions, she is anything but self-centered: she puts aside her own desires to preserve Nick's relationship with his family, only agreeing to marry him when she's sure they've got his family's approval.

Enneagram: 6w5

Nick Young: INFP

I met a girl, I fell in love, and I want to marry her. And it can’t be just one thing or the other.

Nick is a kind, sensitive man who loves his family, but he's established firm personal boundaries regarding how much control they can have over his life. He continually stands up for the right to make his own choices when facing his authoritarian mother, pushing for his autonomy under all circumstances.  Nick is all romantic idealism: he doesn't want to be defined by his wealth, is drawn to Rachel because she doesn't see his material status, but who he really is, and believes he can live his life on his own terms despite the weight of his name and the ideas people have for his life. For the most part he does. He refuses to return to Singapore when his family wants him to, and he introduces his Chinese-American girlfriend  to his family when he knows they won't approve and decides to marry her despite his mother's objections. He even picks Rachel over his family, deciding to cut them off because he's personally offended by their demands. 

Enneagram: 9w1

Astrid Young Teo: ISFJ

It was never my job to make you feel like a man. I can't make you something you're not.

Astrid constantly minimizes herself to make her husband comfortable. Years of practice has allowed her to perfect this system of buying expensive things and hiding it from him that she and her housemaids work like a well-oiled machine. She is unfailingly kind and generous, first with the little girl at the jewelry store, and then offering to help her husband to help him out with his start-up, always reassuring his worth whenever he feels insecure. Nick describes her as having the biggest heart of them all. Astrid instantly bonds with Rachel, telling her about Michael's affair. But when it comes down to it, she compartmentalizes the problem, declaring that it should be something they deal with after the wedding and refusing to express her feelings about it with Michael because it wouldn't be appropriate.

Enneagram: 9w1

Eleanor Sung-Young: ESTJ

I chose to help my husband run a business and to raise a family. For me, it was a privilege. But for you, you may think it's old-fashioned. It's nice you appreciate this house and us being here together wrapping dumplings. But all this doesn't just happen. It's because we know to put family first, instead of chasing one's passion.

Family first—it is Eleanor’s motto. She’s always put her duty first, even when she was young, dropping out of Oxford so that she could manage her household and the family business with her husband. She judges harshly and quickly. She dislikes Rachel before she’s even met her, concluding Rachel doesn’t share her beliefs, would never understand them, or ever be enough for this world, and once her mind is made up, she refuses to change it. She’s also efficient and cruel in her expression of these opinions. Eleanor rules their social world with an iron fist. She is detached yet influential, so incredibly powerful she commands the utmost respect. She has huge ambitions for her son, permissive enough to let him do as he pleases, as long as he remembers that his true loyalties lie with his family.

Enneagram: 8w9

[purplebass]

Blindness and Sight in TLH

Hello everyone!!! As you know, I often like to analyze things which lead to speculations. The irony of this speculation is that it came to me when I was talking to a friend about my “anti-birthday” (your anti-birthday is precisely six months after your birthday). My anti-birthday is on December 13th, which is Saint Lucie’s day, who is also the name of one of our beloved characters in TLH. This theory will not only tackle Lucie’s repercussions after she brought Jesse’s soul back into his body, but also other meanings of the word blind and sight in regards to James and Cordelia and Grace.

The name Lucie means light, and we’ve been told and shown several times how she is bubbly, positive, sunny, and generally has this radiant aura about her and she seems to brighten other people’s lives with her energy. But we are also aware that Lucie is often overlooked despite being so lively, and she has also problems of her own which she didn’t tell anyone of her family. These issues also include finding out that she has a power like her brother James. Her power is tied to the darkness and to death, which is an opposite motif to light and life, which are the superficial traits of our Lucie. 

She can’t just see the ghosts, she can also control the dead, and this power is called mediumship. Lucie is a medium figure, she can come into contact with ghosts, but unlike James and Will, she can do it literally, because she has inherited this skill from her demon grandfather Belial. 

Most of COG and then COI, we’ve seen how Lucie was pictured as the little girl. Not only because of her height. Along with Christopher, Lucie is the youngest character of the group, and at times it almost seems like the others treat her like a child, when she is mature compared to some of the other characters. And they also ignore her (as they also ignore Kit).

Lucie is connected to spirits, hence even her relationship with Jesse, who was himself a spirit, is very spiritual and encompasses that kind of romantic love that transcends time - or, in this case, physicality, since they can barely touch. Lucie then has what we’d call the “sight”, which is the ability to see things other people can’t see. In this case, ghosts. It’s possible she can also see inside their minds, just like she did with Jesse right before she put his soul back into his body. They also say that the eyes are the window of the soul, so when Lucie looked inside Jesse, she also saw his memories from a privileged window.  

I mentioned Saint Lucie, did I? It’s time I explain this theory to you. For those who are not religious nor are Catholic (not only Roman Catholic believe in saints), Saint Lucie is on December 13, which is close to Winter solstice. We know that COI was set in Winter and it was almost Christmas. Weird connection, right? This means that Jesse’s soul was brought back around that time. The Lucie I’m referring to is a specific Saint Lucie, from Syracuse in Italy. She was a martyr of noble origins whose throat was cut by a sword, because she didn’t want to get married to her betrothed and instead gave her wealth to poor people. Another legend narrates that Lucie’s eyes were removed, making her blind. She is, in fact, according to Christianity, the protector of blind people but also authors. All of this to say that it is possible - at least, I’m speculating based on the associations I’m making - that one of the repercussions of Lucie bringing back Jesse’s soul into his body may be blindness or temporary blindness. We also become blind if we stare at a source of light for too long.

I apologize in advance for this theory, but there are signs that may hint to this. The name Lucie is one of them. Like I said, Lucie embeds both light (in her first name but also in her being a shadowhunter, therefore “angelic”) and dark (in her power, but also in her being also part “demon/warlock”). Which means that one of the repercussions for bringing dead = darkness to life = light is a temporary loss of light and sight in herself. This could also not go literal. I mean, Lucie could simply “go dark” and “lose her light” like for example Julian did in TDA, but wouldn’t it be too predictable? The reason why I believe Lucie may suffer the loss of her sight is also because we have other types of blindness in TLH. But wait a second. 

Let me explain first. I said that Lucie and Jesse are a spiritual couple, with a pure and innocent love, which makes them appear very connected to each other that they don’t need the physicality to validate their love. They already trust each other. They know that they love each other, and that’s what matters to them. The quality not the quantity of the time they spend together. So one of their obstacles could be that now that Jesse is alive and in his body and they can finally touch and see each other properly like they’d dreamed (touch in general, I’m not talking about something romantic or sexual here),  it’s Lucie who loses something physical here. Up until the end of Chain of Iron, it was Jesse who lacked physicality because he was a ghost. Now it could be Lucie who lacks her light and can’t even see ghosts, just hear them. Or this will not play out with actual blindness, but we’ll see Lucie in a comatose status or lost in the pit of darkness from where she saved Jesse’s soul, and thanks to the connection Jesse’s last breath may have with James, he could be able to reach out to her and bring her back (just like Cordelia is James’ light and is able to reach out to him when he’s in the shadow realm). So, bottom line, Lucie may become blind (temporary) indirectly because of Jesse and the act she pulled to bring him back. 

I mentioned James and Cordelia because the theme of blindness concerns them too, but in different ways. Where Lucie and Jesse are not blind on their feelings and, on the other hand, embrace them completely when they come, James is under the effect of the gracelet and Cordelia, despite loving James, thinks it’s a one-sided love thus she doesn’t tell him how she feels. By being under the effect of the gracelet, it was like James was blind. He saw Cordelia, felt his longing for her, but there was something blinding in his sight which didn’t let him be honest with the person he loved. We are aware that without the gracelet, James would have already confessed to Cordelia. I looked for the term blind both in Chain of Gold and Chain of Iron, and guess what? In COG, most of the terms blind, blindness, blindly and so on, were referred to James. There is also a specific line that Jem tells James about him being a star who can’t be put out, along with his family, and whoever doesn’t see it is blind. I just love this metaphor of the Herondale family being the light in Jem’s darkness and muteness (which may be another thing pointing to Lucie becoming temporarily blind, although Jem is not mute per se, since he can talk telepathically - but it’s still a traumatic disability). In Greek mythology, Tiresia was a liminal figure like Lucie and they were also blind and could see the underworld.

The cause of James' blindness to his feelings for Cordelia was Grace. 

Little parenthesis on Grace: in COI we find out she was blindfolded when she received her power, which I think it doesn’t just add more material to this analysis, but it also means a few things. She was given a power she didn’t want without her consent, because she was taken there blindfolded, blind. She couldn’t say she didn’t want it, because she had been also manipulated and abused by Tatiana. Grace’s lack of consent doesn’t just connect with her power taking away people’s feelings as well. It also links to Jesse’s body used by Belial without his consent. Jesse was also blindfolded when he woke up after Lucie brought his soul back. Covering the eyes of dead people was a habit that comes from the past. He tears the blindfold away and the first thing he sees is Lucie fainting, her world “blurring at the edges” before everything gets dark. 

When I looked up for the same words in COI, Cordelia was the one linked to blind, blindness et similar. She wasn’t just wondering why she had been so blind about her father’s condition, and about James and his feelings, but also about what Lilith did to her. Cordelia had been deceived, and in her case, blindness is linked to the fact of not noticing the signs that Wayland wasn’t Wayland but Lilith. And Lilith is the mother of all warlocks, and it’s yet another link to James and Lucie’s heritage and being torn between serving the shadowhunters with a sword pledged to a demon. This also plays in Jesse being a shadowhunter but having Belial’s demonic anchor inside of him. 

James and Cordelia’s blindness was played on the feelings’ side. His feelings were obscured by the gracelet and Belial and Tatiana’s wrath, and Cordelia’s heroic feelings were obscured by Lilith’s wrath against James’ grandfather. Their blindness was not literal, and as we saw, their feelings for each other were too strong that they shattered the enchantment on the gracelet. Both of them found out that they had been blind by the end of COI. Grace told James the truth, but Cordelia misinterpreted what she saw (blindness again! Miscommunication, which is also a lack of insight into something). Cordelia, already feeling burdened by Cortana’s corruption, couldn’t help but run away to the alternate reality which was Paris. In COT, Cordelia and James will finally confess their feelings for each other.

Blindness may play out differently for Lucie and Jesse. Since their feelings weren’t blurred by any enchantment, they were able to confess to each other and live their love, albeit for a short period of time. Since Jordelia’s blindness (and subsequent miscommunication, which Blackdale didn’t have because they were the only ones who talked to each other) was metaphorical, spiritual, in opposition, Blackdale’s blindness could be physically debilitating. So like Grace voluntarily provoked James’ metaphorical blindness and masked his real feelings for Cordelia, Jesse could have involuntarily provoked Lucie’s literal blindness. 

I can’t stop thinking about the fact that some of the things that also happened to James could also reflect on Lucie but play out in a different way for her. Like when Grace wants James to run away with her to Gretna Green and get married. James doesn’t want to leave the shadowhunters. Not for Grace, even if he believes he likes her. This could play out for Lucie and Jesse. They might be exiled, or Lucie could decide to leave the shadowhunters and Jesse could follow her, and they become mundanes. 

That’s it! Hope you liked my analysis and speculation. I like to hear your opinion about it, so feel free to write to me in my ask box to talk about it, if you want.

[mdhwrites]

Jumbled Thoughts: High Society Characters Featuring The Blights From The Owl House

The elite. The privileged. The powerful. Those who seem untouchable and look down upon others because they think it is their right, whether this be because of birthright, reputation, wealth, or all of the above. These figures that seem so much larger than everyone else... but are still human. Still characters, just with a dimension to them that is specific to their stature and their unique perspectives from on high. There’s a lot of different ways to write high society characters and a lot of general pitfalls with these characters. Fortunately, we have a whole family of five to help us both examine different archtypes amongst these characters, pitfalls with each, and considerations that can be made based off of both what they do and, more importantly, ESPECIALLY for high society characters, what they don’t. There will be spoilers and this is your warning now.

We’ll start with the characters we know the least about from the show: Alador and Odalia Blight. They are the parents to three children and are closer to what people would consider the stereotypical high society character. The token or straw man version of them. They’re severe, they care about legacy, and are brutal about that legacy. They appear evil to most people, especially in forcing their daughter to abandon a friend they perceive as unworthy of spending time with their family so she may befriend the friends they ‘approve’ of, or are simply convenient because they are available by being children of people they work with.

This is pretty common for antagonistic high society characters as, from 99% of the population’s view, these actions are abusive, evil, and reprehensible. And... they are... to some extent. These characters, ideally, show a high level of pragmatism. They have obvious goals, obvious priorities, often to do with appearance, status, strength, etc. that go hand in hand with keeping their position of power and are often ruthless in achieving these goals. They were raised in a way to perceive weakness as humiliating and needing help as failure. This actually makes this a good archtype too as parents to a high society character seeking redemption because your plucky hero (or heroine) can teach them that friends are in fact important and that clear strength isn’t all there is. But these strereotypical characters are often too far gone to see that as anything other than repulsive.

...WHY!? This is the pitfall of these characters and making them exceedingly token. One note. Boring. If all they do is crush happiness, you lose the concept of them doing this to protect their legacy and devolve into them being cackling, mustache twirling villains which really sucks because these character’s pragmatism is their greatest strength. That weird person who is one of a kind in the world and has a special power? A bad author may immediately have these high society twats reject them. A good author may have these characters consider long term plans with them. If their unique qualities can take them somewhere, perhaps that’s a useful asset. If they can claim to have fostered, or at least befriended, this unique talent then that is an accomplishment that their family will have above all others. That will increase the prestige of their name. And that is the unique twist on these characters to keep in mind. They think on a macro scale. A scale that encompasses all levels of society and how to at all times turn things into opportunities in their favor. At least, if you want to sell the idea that there’s a reason they were able to become and stay members of high society rather than just being privileged assholes.

Speaking of, second type with the second and third best known characters: Emira and Edric as the privileged assholes! These characters make for great minor antagonists and bullies and that’s a lot of what we at least hear of these two twins. They skip class, they pull pranks, they break into places they aren’t supposed to, and they seek retribution upon those who try to ruin their fun. This even went as far as trying to ruin their little sister’s life by publishing her diary at one point. These characters are hedonistic, selfish, and entirely out for their personal enjoyment, all of which they can pursue relentlessly because they know their status gives them immunity to the consequences that society would wish to place on them.

So, the pitfall? Well, the first comes in the form of motivation. Why are they like this? It’s easy to just make them spoiled but was that the whole point to it? These characters benefit the most from their parental figures actually in general, rather than just themselves. After all, their desires override any sort of pain, anger, etc. that may lead them to the escapism. I’ll come back to these two more though when I start talking about the entire context of the family but these two are treated so drastically different from their sister, and their temperament so against what is ‘proper’ for high society that it has very interesting ramifications to the dynamics of the family, at least if you want them to be there.

But, we have one last member. A main supporting character of the show and the archtype of the next generation/redeemable high society character: Amity Blight. She has straight hair, straight As, moves straight towards her goals, and is in all ways Little Miss Perfect at the beginning of the show.

Check this out if you don’t get the reference. It’s a very good song.

She is inherently a good person, but instead holds the weight of her name on her shoulders. She knows what a Blight is supposed to look like, act like, and what they’re supposed to aim for as the best of the best. She knows what that takes, she knows how hard she needs to work, and she does everything right. Which also means that when things go wrong, she snaps like a twig because she is so ready to explode from all of the doubts in her mind about whether or not she can do this.

And all of this is pretty stock for the high society character you want to have the flavor of this trait, but also to make likable. This actually isn’t even a dig at the show. They’re simply the most obviously relatable traits that can make a viewer like a character so far removed from their reality. They want them to be free of the pressure. Allowed to be the person they are/want to be rather than the one that they obviously are being made to be.

Aaaand *drops you in a hole* DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEM!? This is one that’s probably the easiest to overlook as a problem but it’s entirely a matter of whether or not you get rid of the flavor of who they used to be in redemption. This is admittedly a problem with any character who is redeemed but it should never feel like this character, who used to be so focused on one goal because of their heritage, has given up on those goals or simply wears fancier clothes than everyone else because their parents have money. You started from this deep base of pressure that was likely enforced for years and that’s not something that simply vanishes from a pretty pair of brown eyes. Of course, depending on the amount of time you can spend on this or the tone you’re going for, abandoning some of these elements is also fine. After all, Amity is a part of the main supporting cast, but still not the main character and maybe in half of the episodes in the first season, if not less, and for most of those she likely gets less than five minutes of screentime. There’s only so much character development you can do with that so if you want to expedite some of the uglier parts of a character like her’s arc to get them where they can properly be working with the good guys, that’s entirely fine.

In other words, this is your reminder that not all things that may appear as problems are all of the time. It all depends on execution and what is important to your story. After all, if you need token characters for a one time excursion into high society, the first archtype makes for great main foes for your heroes to face, the second work well as either nuisances or unlikely assistants, and the last one can quickly be made into a fast ally to take with you, especially if you make it that they want to be more like the second archtype and so want out from under the pressure they’re under. If that’s something that needs to happen within 20k words or three episodes, etc. then GO FOR IT. Do not feel bad if you have to make them less than the deepest characters because if they always had to be, these archtypes wouldn’t exist as they do.

Last section: What these archtypes say in tandem. Or, in other words, what’s not being said? Let’s review real quick. This will feature the heaviest spoilers, especially for Amity, so there’s your warning. Also, I have my own conclusions and suggestions on where to take the questions I plan to present but that’s not the point of this blog. It’s to get you to start considering these characters and archtypes from different angles than simply ‘High Society = Bad.’ If you want to see me talk more about those conclusions and my reasoning though, let me know.

Odalia and Alador Blight are severe enough to tell their daughter that she cannot be friends with someone who is too weak to associate with Blights. They also fairly obviously are a large part of where Amity’s pressure comes from since that scene is one of the few where we see an outside influence on Amity’s perception of these things.

Emira and Edric are bullies to their sister, jokesters, lazy, blatantly break the rules, and in general are characters who at best know how to behave as members of high society but in general do not act like high society members. That is a stark contrast to how severe their parents treat something like simply a weak friend, isn’t it? Especially since these two are the OLDER siblings, by a few years even from what we can tell. What happened there? Why are they given this level of freedom? How are they able to so freely ignore the pressure when it’s obvious that Amity has been given reasons to think that failing to measure up will lead to some level of consequences?

Amity by the end of the first season has become friends again with the friend that she was told to tell to never associate with, hangs out with a complete weirdo human who can barely cast magic, and has gone from constantly being serious and severe to being amicable and flustered much of the time. There are still elements of her severity admittedly, but they’re targeted more at the things she once thought were all important like her old friends. HOW!? I talked about how it’s acceptable to skip the uglier parts of a redemption arc, and I don’t have any real issue with how they did it, but if you want to expand on a character like this, you need to answer where the pressure goes to let them make such a drastic change in personality when originally they seemed to be crushed under the weight of their responsibilities. A smile doesn’t get rid of years of worry and a distant dream of success, especially if your parents are pushing you harder and harder to be like them. To be pragmatic. To do everything you can to succeed, no matter who you hurt. To find retribution for even simply perceived slights, let alone actual wrongs done to you.

And you may notice that a lot of these questions swing back to Alador and Odalia. As the last generation of High Society members, it was their responsibility to make sure these lessons would stick. What do their children’s behavior say about their behavior? Are they simply absentee now? Did they relax? Do they not know?

In other words: What are their relationships? What is their CHARACTER? Most people may not actually understand that level of society as we have to sit on the ground instead of from gilded thrones, but we cannot forget that these are still people with motivations, flaws, and goals and reasons for how they behave. If you do that, all you have is a fancy chess piece that fits in its place but will never be more interesting than a predictable game of chess between two masters.

Thank you, I hope I’ve given you something to think about, let me know what other topics, concepts, etc. you may want me to talk about, follow for whatever I may have next, and have a wonderful rest of your day.

[wellhellotragic]

Hiraeth

Summary: Emma’s life had always been carefully curated for her as the daughter of a Navy Admiral. To follow in her mothers footsteps: meet and marry a suitable husband and be the best wife possible. But what she hadn’t expected was for her father to be reassigned halfway around the world to Egypt, and she certainly had never expected to meet and fall in love with a man so opposed to everything her father stood for...

A/N: Well, @shireness-says​​, I guess it’s finally time to reveal myself. Hope having me as your @cssecretsanta2020​​  isn’t too disappointing. I think I managed to get 90% of your wish list tucked into this little monster. I hope you have the most wonderful of Christmases this year!

 Hiraeth: A homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was. Grief for a loss, something you can never have again.

 _____________________________________________________________

 She hears a crackling noise coming from the next room, the oversized fireplace recently stoked with with wood, and even in its muffled state through the doorway, it brings a calmness to the home. Winters in London have always been chilly, but this one is by far the most brutal that Emma can remember and the snow piling up outside has brought transportation to a halt as the cobblestone roads give no grip to passing carriages. She briefly considers taking a few sips of the bottle of brandy she has hidden in the back of the cupboard to warm her, but considering the small child playing with her doll in the great room, Emma decides against, choosing to boil some water instead. 

 It’s strange, being in the house, just the two of them after all this time. Stranger yet celebrating a family holiday without the entire family, but such is life. She will allow herself to cry tonight once the child is safely tucked into her bed with a story told. She will allow herself to grieve for the man not sleeping at her side and the chill that’s taken hold of his side of the mattress. For the quietness of the home,  but for now, she’s going to smile and tell her daughter a tale of Father Christmas.

The kettle begins to whistle, taking Emma by surprise, having lost track of the time in her wistfulness. Quickly she composes herself and sets about mixing up two cups of cocoa, complete with whipped cream and a generous dusting of cinnamon on top for good measure. Always with the cinnamon.

 She places both cups on a small wooden tray, adding in some biscuits, before taking the tray into the living room. There, she finds the small girl playing a game of imaginary flight. The girl has named the doll Wendy, based on some fairytale she’d been told at school. One retold to her by a classmate whose father spun such tales for a living. 

 “Fly Wendy, you must believe. You simply must!”

 “What must she believe, my Poppet?” Emma can’t help but chuckle at the earnestness of her daughter’s words.

 “Oh, it’s quite simple really. She has to believe in the magic for it to work so she can fly.”

 “Ah, well maybe she just needs some cocoa to help her outlook. What do you say?”

 The young girl nearly tossed her doll in the air in her haste to run to the table where her mother has set the tray. Tiny fingers move at nearly impossible speed and it’s all Emma can do to prevent her from burning her mouth again.

 “Careful, it’s still warm, you must take care to blow on it, sweetheart.”

 The little girl rolls her eyes before nearly sinking her face into the whip cream, catching a dollop on her nose as she blows. Giggles fill the room and Emma’s heart begins to warm just a bit.

 “Mummy, Theo told me that cinnamon on cocoa was wrong. That it doesn’t belong.”

 “And what did you say in return?”

 “Well, I told him that he was silly of course.”

 Emma laughed. Her daughter has inherited so much of her father in physical appearance, but tucked away inside the girl, Emma often finds her own spirit. 

 “Have I ever told you the story of how I came to use cinnamon on my cocoa?”

 The little girl shakes her head as she takes a sip of her now cooled drink.

 “Well, then, where should I begin?” Emma smiles wistfully before continuing. “Once upon a time…”

 _____________________________________

1881 Port of Alexandria, Egypt

 She’d been sick since the day they’d left London, never having experienced the open waters before. She’d been on boats a handful of times as a child with her father, yet they’d never had the occasion to leave their position in the berth and weeks at sea had taken their toll. Emma, like a handful of others unaccustomed to the waves, had taken ill, turning nearly green in the face. Most of the men aboard had served in her Majesty's Navy for years, making such simple work of setting about the ship with ease. Emma envied them that, having spent nearly every day in her room sick over a bucket.

 Her only solace was the blaring horn of her father’s ship alerting them that they’d finally arrived at their destination. Leaving London hadn't been easy, saying goodbye to so many of her friends. To the only home she’d ever lived in. Her mother told her to think of it as an adventure, reminding her constantly that it wasn’t a house that made a home. It was family. But Emma and her mother had experienced very different upbrings. 

 And the idea of moving to Egypt had been off putting. She’d been warned of the heat and the impoverished people. The less than ideal sanitary situation had also been worrisome. It was only at the insistence of her father and that Emma was able to avoid hesitation all together.

 But that was then, before her family drug her nearly kicking and screaming halfway across the world to an entirely different continent. She didn’t know much about Egypt other than the English had recently begun to colonise it to ensure the protection of monetary interest. She knew even lesser still about Alexandria. An oasis of sorts her father had said, situated between the Nile and the new Suez Canal, producing some of the most fertile land in the country, which was also the very reason they were there. To protect more than the land the Queen now laid claim to, but to ensure safe passage for  the ships returning to England from India. 

 “Emma, sweetheart, are you coming?”

 Emma looked up to find her mother’s head poking in through the doorway, cheerful as always. “We really mustn’t dotile, it wouldn’t make for a good first impression.”

 “Of course, we couldn’t possibly be late,” she mocked as she rolled her eyes, trying to find a place to stow her recently used bucket. Heaven forbid they ever step one toe out of line. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the importance of her father’s role as a Rear-Admiral and how important it was to keep up the image of the perfect family, but for Emma, it meant everything had to be just so. No creases in her dresses, no new fashions that were considered too provocative as they may have shown the slightest hint of skin around the reduced neckline. It also meant that every moment of her day must have been accounted for. 

 It wasn’t as if she had a rebellious streak, but she longed to have any semblance of autonomy in her own life. But that wasn’t the life she was destined for. Instead, she was expected to find a suitable husband of good social standing and wealth, and to bear his children. To provide for him in any way necessary and to see only to his happiness. So many of her friends had been all too eager to accept marriage proposals from men that ill fitted their personalities just for the sake of not being labeled a spinster.

 At nearly twenty one, Emma had already pushed the boundaries, having recently turned down a marriage proposal from the son of the Admiral of the Fleet, a reason she strongly believed had led to the sudden reassignment of her father. Neal’s father had always stuck her as a horribly controlling man, a trait that she saw more and more in Neal as their courtship progressed.

 “Emma, really, I must insist that you hurry.”

 “Yes, mother.”

 Emma rose from her seat and placed her bucket on the floor at the foot of her bed before putting herself to rights. She checked her hair in the small mirror hung on the wall opposite her luggage, trying her best not to look as bad as she felt. 

 The top deck of the ship was beaming with life. People milled about everywhere, barking orders to some, saluting others. It was the most organized brand of chaos Emma had ever laid eyes on. She followed her mother, taking caution not to step in anyone’s way as they made their way to the gangplank. 

 It was there that she caught her first sight of her new home. It was breathtaking, not at all what she’d expected. The sky above the city was the bluest she’d ever experienced, like the ocean itself had been reflected into the heavens, and the buildings lining the seashore erupted in a mountain of golden sandcastles. 

 She’d barely had time to take it in before her mother began tugging on her elbow, a silent signal to move faster. Once on land again, Emma and her mother were greeted by the women’s auxiliary group. There were a handful of other officers that had brought families with them to their new duty station, and as was customary, a greeting party had come to meet the newest arrivals. 

 The women, some as young as Emma swooned and cooed over her mother. It wasn’t every day that the wife of such a high ranking official appeared, and the women clearly wanted to make a positive first impression, cementing their good standings as well as their husband’s in the mind of her mother. Much of the privilege afforded to soldiers and their families depended on rank, but social status had long been its own form of exchangeable collateral. 

 They all exchanged pleasantries as the woman walked them to the nearby base, a small wall and barbed wire barricade the only thing separating them from what some of the women had referred to as natives. Emma tried not to show her disgust at the term, but it was difficult when they seemed so unapologetic for the slur. Especially when they spoke of the uprising and how some of them needed to be put down like dogs.

 Emma had seen her fair share of aristocrat snobbery before, but nothing quite so brazen. If not for the young brunette ambeling beside her, rolling her eyes as the women spoke, Emma certainly would have lost her sanity. 

 Eventually the gaggle of women made it to the house that Emma would call home. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as what she’d been accustomed to in London. There weren’t any of the ornate embellishments on the walls, no wood carvings, not even any color really. By some miracle though, the house did have plumbing, which had been one of Emma’s greatest worries. Some of her friends had warned her that she would be forced to use outhouses and public bathes.

 The home itself was bleak, but her mother took it in stride, finding whatever she could to be excited about, and told the women that she would make her own in no time. Soon, she’d even managed to command the kitchen enough to make tea for all of the ladies who’d been kind enough to stock the house with groceries for the newcomers. They sat around the small table in the living room and discussed what it was like living in Alexandria, gossiping about one of the wives who hadn’t been able to make it. At one point, the conversation had shifted back to the natives, a warning not to venture into the city without a male escort to prevent savagery. Emma felt the walls closing in as the conversation continued. This small base made of a few homes and barracks had become a small prison. All of her dreams crushed.

 As the women rose and exchanged parting words, Emma moved to take her leave but felt someone grab her wrist, tugging her outside and around the corner of the house. The girl continued to pull her farther and farther away from any other people.

 Not sure what was happening, Emma braced herself to dig her heels into the ground, not wishing to move another inch.

 “Where are you trying to take me,” she demanded.

 It was the same brunette from earlier, and with a wolfish grin she shrugged.

 “To the city of course.”

 _____________________________________

 She wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her to follow the young woman she now knew as Ruby. Perhaps it was a rebellion from all of the rules that had been forced upon her in such a limited amount of time. Perhaps it was sheer curiosity, but she went, almost eagerly.

 Emma listened as Ruby told her about all of the places as they passed them and the people, even watching Ruby greet a few of them as friends. It was such a different picture from the one the women on base had painted. Half of her had been expecting men hidden under robes and veils to jump out and grab her, but the men and women that they came across all seemed friendly enough. 

 Soon, she found herself entering a brasserie. Ruby didn’t miss a beat in rushing to a table with a couple already sat across from each other. With no prompting whatsoever, Ruby took the spot next to the gentleman, edging him further against the wall. She motioned for Emma to sit as well. Carefully, she slid onto the bench next to the other woman, making sure not to crowd her. 

 It wasn’t until she’d become fully situated that she’d really been able to take stock of the people sitting with her. The woman to her right was beautiful in her own right. Brown hair tied at her nape, flowing over her shoulder in curls. It was odd for Emma to see a woman wish such relaxed standards and so carefree. In old London society, it was an unspoken rule that women wore their hair up in fanciful twists. 

 But as surprising as the woman’s demeanor was, it was truly the gentleman that had caught her attention. A slight scruff speckled the entire lower half of his face, and his cheeks had a sunkissed glow about them. But his eyes, they sparkled a deep blue, and all thoughts she’d had about the Egyptian sky upon her arrival had been put to shame by him.

 “Emma, I’d like you to meet my friend Belle, and her pet, Killian. Everyone, this is Emma. She’s just arrived today and I’m trying to dispel the lies she’s heard of the city thus far.”

 Killian nodded in her direction, but remained silent. Belle on the other hand had been eager to speak, having originally been born in France, but she’d lived in London until only a few years prior. She asked all sorts of questions about the museums and libraries, and life in general. Emma filled her in on all of the newness of what she’d missed since leaving. Before she knew it, a table full of food had appeared, enough to feed a small army.

 She’d been reluctant to eat any, not yet having currency to pay for her share, but Ruby insisted, telling her it was on Killian. He barked out a laugh, but assured her that lunch was on him as a welcome gift. The four of them ate and spoke. Or more aptly, Ruby and Belle did most of the speaking, which was fine by Emma. She’d learned so much about Alexandria. 

 As it turned out, Ruby was the daughter of another office stationed at the base, but Belle had no affiliation with the Navy. She’d simply come to Egypt for the adventure of it all. She was actually on a small team searching for the lost library of Alexandria. She told Emma how many of the explorers that had come to the country had done so for the glory and treasure. Most of them were in Cairo, exploring pyramids and digging in the middle of nowhere hoping for the best. She on the other hand was intrigued by the library, her treasure was the lost books. The knowledge that had slipped away.

 Eventually, lunch came to an end, their bellies all well and full, and Killian informed them that he’d stayed as long as possible, but that he needed to depart. Emma wasn’t sure why - he’d barely spoken, and she’d no knowledge of anything about it - but there was a small twinge of sadness at his leaving. 

 As they excited the brasserie, she watched as he turned and gave both Ruby and Belle hugs before handing Belle a small satchel. Emma had been taken back. In her previous social graces, a man and women were never to embrace unless they were married, and even then, they were to maintain a certain amount of propriety in public. But there, amongst a city of strangers, they seemed to give it no thought. 

 She was taken back yet again when Killian grabbed her hand, brushing the slightest of kisses against her knuckles. She felt her breath quicken and her heart begin to pound within her chest and she worried that the others might hear it. 

 “My lady.”

 And then, before Emma could catch the breath that had left her body, he walked away. She tried not to watch him as he left, but her eyes had affixed to him, and there was no prying her sight from him until he’d turned into an alleyway. A gleeful squeal from Belle as she peaked inside the satchel and pulled out a worn book was the only thing that finally allowed Emma to focus her attention elsewhere.

 “Hook always brings her a new rare book when he returns to the city, and everytime she loses her mind as if it were not to be expected from him.”

 “Hook, is that Mr. Killian’s last name.”

 Ruby snorted. 

 “Mister Killian? We’ve really got our work cut out for us with this one.”

 Belle shushed Ruby, only giving the smallest of snickers.

 “To answer your question, no. His last name is Jones. Hook was a moniker given to him back in his navy days. He was always very prim and proper of course, but if the occasion called for it, he had a mean left hook.”

 Emma nodded in understanding, trying to reconcile the image of a clean cut soldier with the man she’d just met. 

 “As as far as Ruby is concerned, the best part of living in Alexandria is the freedom to not abide by strict formalities.”

 “Exactly, you needn’t be so formal here. There’s no Mister Killian or Mister Jones. No one here is going to rat you out for being human, Emma.”

 “I-”

 “No. You’re going to have enough thrust upon you on post, so in the rare moments you have for yourself like this, take advantage.”

 Emma understood Ruby’s intentions, but she’d let her guard down once before and it had led to her father being exiled from his position. She couldn’t risk letting him down again. Instead, she nodded and did her best to change the subject.

 After some time, Emma and Ruby returned to the base, parting ways near each of their homes. Ruby lived with her father and grandmother on the opposite end of the street. The girls made plans to meet up later in the week once Emma had her footing under her. 

 That evening, her parents discussed their days. Her father had his work cut out for him. Not only was he tasked with maintaining order in the city of Alexandria, but he’d just been informed that there had been a ship in the Medditeranian Sea that had been terrorizing cargo ships departing the Suez canal on their way home to London. He told them that the Royal Navy had searched exhaustively for the ship, but hadn’t had any luck and that they suspected that one of the neighboring countries was helping to provide a safe haven for the pillagers. They were ghosts. 

 Emma went to bed not long after, exhausted from all of the events of the day. Her mind couldn’t help but replaying everything over and over again in her mind. She’d managed to make new friends sooner than expected, and she genuinely enjoyed her time with Ruby and Belle. They were both so different from her social circle in London, more free and uninhibited. Something she’d always wished she could be but nothing she could have herself, given her station. The other member of her group had been more of an enigma, so quiet and mindful. She had to admit to herself, he was very handsome, and if not for his obvious relationship with Belle, she may have even allowed herself to dwell on his blue eyes and raven black hair. But he was already in a courtship, and she would do well to think of other things. 

 If only her dreams had understood propriety. 

 _____________________________________

 The following few weeks were packed full of events and social soirees. Her mother wasted no time jumping into her role as a mother hen to the entire base, organizing tea parties, book clubs, even planning a winter ball for all of the soldiers. The weather in Alexandria was a far cry from the snowy streets of England but her mother made due, and also made use of nearly all of Emma’s free time. 

 She’d seen Ruby nearly daily, allowing their bond to grow, but the two women had only been able to sneak off once in the four weeks that Emma had lived in Egypt to meet Belle. The women had shared a more traditional meal in a British Pub that time. Emma had learned that the British people who lived in the center of the city had begun transforming the buildings, erecting more Victorian style facades with not one, but two pubs offering traditional menus and ales for the homesick. It was a remarkable find, and Emma was grateful for any semblance of her life before, but a small part of her couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if her people were ravanging the land, forcing their ways on others. 

 Even Belle had noticed the lack of Egyption patrons, and had warned the girls that there had been gossip of groups speaking out against the British presence in Alexandria. Nothing had come of it, but she warned the girls to be cautious and never to explore the city alone. For her part, Belle had taken a guide, hired by her employer for her protection. It also helped that Belle spoke and read the language, making her less helpless. 

 The days turned to months, and every few weeks the girls were able to sneak away for lunches at the same Brasserie as their first meeting. Sometimes it was just the three of them and they would discuss Belle’s research or Ruby’s grandmother who lived with her and her father. They spoke of news from England. Sometimes Killian was there as well, regaling them all with stories that Emma often believed were complete fiction. She learned that he captained a ship that transported cargo, weeks of sailing the Suez Canal being what kept him away for such long stretches of time.

 It was during hose visits with Killian present that Emma experienced some of the most amazing meals she’d ever eaten. The chicken curry with black cardamom had been particularly flavorful and the Mahlab bread had been perfect, but for Emma the Morracan saffron chicken had been her absolute favorite. The four of them became very close, but Emma still knew little about Killian, aside from the fact that he’d grown up in Yorkshire and sailed. The curiosity of it all ate away at ther, but it would have been improper for her to inquire into his life in such a way. 

 Instead, the small group continued to meet when they could, exchanging mostly pleasant conversation, with Emma occasionally venting her frustration of having to listen to her mother speak of some of the more eligible young naval officers with the sultity of Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square. She also spoke of her excitement over the Winter Ball and how it would be nice to have a formal dance once more with some of the young soldiers.

 It wasn’t until nearly six months after Emma’s arrival that she learned that Killian and Belle were not in fact courting. The four of them met for a late lunch, eating their meal and catching up, and just as their plates were cleared, four mugs appeared, preordered by Killian before any of the rest of them had arrived. Killian had asked them all to keep an open mind, so Emma closed her eyes as she took her first sip, trying to focus on the taste, letting just the tiniest of moans escape her lips as the flavor exposed itself. It was sweeter than she’d remembered, but there was something else, something that gave it a small bite.

 “Killian, this is delicious! What is it?”

 Emma looked up from her mug to see a slight blush spread across his cheeks as he toyed with a spot behind his ear.

 It’s cocoa, made from camel’s milk, with a sprinkling of cinnamon. 

 “Cinnamon?”

 Emma wasn’t of simple mindedness. She’d seen the prices of many of the spices at the local markets, and while not as exotic as saffron or cardamom, cinnamon was still beyond the price she was willing to part with. While Killian never baulked at the price of their meals, nor did he seem to mind in the slightest the idea of paying for all of them, Emma often felt that she’d taken advantage of his kindness and polite manors, and the cinnamon cocoa that she savored did little to ease her guilt.

 It wasn’t until after they all parted, all with hugs and Emma yet again with a kiss to her hand from Killian, that she learned of the true relationship between Belle and Killian. That they were merely friends, that they had been for years. Ruby teased Emma at her naivety, explaining that Killian had never treated them to such alluring meals before, not until he met Emma. That many of the dishes they consumed weren’t even on the menu but that Killian had brought the spices with him and bribed the staff to use them for the table. 

 Ruby also teased Emma for the way she sometimes looked at Killian, the yearning glances. 

 For her part, Emma assured Ruby that there was no such thing, embarrassed that she been caught mooning over a man she’d thought taken until only moments before. Instead, Emma changed the topic entirely, asking Ruby how the Christmas dinner her Grandmother was planning was coming along. 

 The next two weeks passed in a blur as final preparations for the Winter Ball took place. All of the women pitched in making sure every decoration was placed in just the right spot, and that every possible detail had been seen to. Even though the base was small, and word of mouth would have been sufficient, Emma’s mother saw to it that each person had received a personalized invitation. 

 Her mother had chosen silver and blue for the colors, to accentuate the uniforms worn by the gentlemen. She’d even ordered new dresses from England. Silver for herself to coordinate with Emma’s father,  and a long sleeved cream gown for Emma, with ornate lace embellishments. Emma had insisted that it was too much, but Mary Margaret had been adamant that Emma put her finest foot forward - an obvious insinuation that it was time for Emma to begin a courtship less she waste away as a spinster in her old age.

 The ball itself was magnificent. The meal was divine, dripping with decadent sauces that reminded her of the nicer restaurants she’d been privileged enough to dine at before their move to Egypt. The desert was scrumptious as well, but as everyone spoke of how lovely the meal was, Emma couldn’t help but glance at the center table centerpieces. Silver and blue christmas baubles had been placed in glass vases. Most were uniform in shape and size, but there was one small bauble out of place among them, lighter in color. The blue of a certain pair of eyes she’d been dreaming of more and more lately. 

 She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts of the man who’s eyes had captivated her over so many other meals, that she’d completely missed the music begin to play, as well as the young petty officer at her side. It was only the clearing of her mother’s throat that brought her back enough to realize that he was there with his hand stretched out to her, asking for her own hand for a dance.

 Emma acquiesced, letting him lead her to the dance floor. There, they did their best to move in synchronicity, but Emma was rusty, and the poor petty officer had been born with two left feet. Emma had been grateful as the music came to an end and a new song began. Never had she been so grateful for social norms, the same one that prevented her from dancing with the same gentleman twice without being in a courtship. Not that it had really been much of a blessing. Each partner had his own quirks. Some moved too quickly, others too slow. One poor gentleman had clearly been taught by his friends, and had inadvertently learned the footwork meant for her. She did her best not to embarrass him or to bring attention to it. But after eight partners, she had become tired, and her feet ached.

 Ruby seemed much more excited though, telling Emma not to seem so glum. She was just in the middle of explaining her reluctance to dance anymore, when she heard a man interrupt from behind her.

 “Perhaps you just need a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

 Emma turned, recognizing the voice but not being able to rectify what she saw before her. There, in a pristine Lieutenant’s uniform, stood Killian Jones, clean shaven and just as proper as any man in the room. 

 “How- How are you here?”

 Killian chuckled and held his hand out for Emma, which she eagerly took as he guided her back into the center of the dance floor. 

 “I actually used to be stationed at this very post. It’s not exactly a fortress as I’m sure you know.”

 “But, why are you here? I only mean that if you've left this post, then why would you come to a ball like this?”

 “I’d never pass up a change to dance with a beautiful lady.”

 There was such earnestness in his eyes and Emma couldn’t help but blush and look away, unsure of what to say herself. Perhaps Ruby had been correct in her assessment of Killian’s affections for her. They didn’t speak beyond that, but when the song came to an end, Killian made no move to relinquish her hand, and she made no effort to deny him. The next song began soon after and they continued to float across the dance floor to a waltz.

 After the third song, Killian finally released Emma, knowing all too well how quickly gossip could spread in such small quarters. Together, they exited the dance floor and moved to gather some refreshments, but before they could make it to the table set for drinks, Emma came face to face with her father.

 By any account her father looked rather austere as he took in the form of the man behind her. 

 “Emma, won’t you introduce me to your friend?”

 Emma paused, not sure how to introduce Killian. It wasn’t as if he was meant to be there, or if he was even still in the navy - something she had questions about but would save for a later time - and didn’t know how many of the young naval men her father knew by name. 

 “Lieutenant Killian Jones, Sir. From the HMS Condor.”

 Emma watched as her father’s features relaxed a bit.

 “So you sail under Admiral Seymore then?”

 “Lore Beresford actually. Admiral Seymore commands the HMS Invincible now.”

 If it had been a test, Killian had surely passed given her father’s smile and invitation to sit at their table. David asked Killian all sorts of questions regarding his position and role aboard the Condor, and had Emma not been so enraptured by the ease at which Killian answered her father’s questions, she likely would have been bored of the conversation. The two men discussed Naval related items for a bit before the conversation shifted.

 “So, Jones, as a man who’s recently sailed in the Mediterranean, what can you tell me of the rogue ship that’s terrorizing the cargo vessels?”

 Killian scratched just behind his ear, a sign Emma had come to learn was an indication of his unease. 

 “Not much I’m afraid. I’ve heard a story or two but never encountered them myself. To be perfectly frank, I’m not even sure if they exist.”

 “Well if they don’t exist, why would ships claim to have been attacked then?”

 “Oh, it’s not uncommon actually. You see, before the canal was built, many of the ships would get caught in the storms around the cape. Sometimes they would genuinely lose a large portion of their cargo, and other times they would claim their losses to be greater than they actually were, especially if they’d been paid in advance. They’d hide the cargo and sell it at another port before docking in London.”

 “So they pocket the extra purse?”

 “Exactly, and now with the canal helping them avoid the more treacherous waters, they have no excuse to falsely declare their cargo manifest.”

 Emma’s father sighed, trying to take in everything Killian had told him. It seemed far fetched, and Emma’s father even said as much, but it was such a bizarre claim that Emma couldn’t help but wonder if there was some merit to it. 

 “It seems like an awful lot of trouble for so many ships to go to, but I guess it’s not out of the realm of possibilities. And if I’m being honest, I found myself questioning the stories all together when I heard the rumors of the vessel’s captain's name. Who would possibly ever wish to go by the name of Hook?”

 Both men laughed at the absurdity of it, but Emma couldn’t rid herself of the knot that had formed in her throat as Killian watched her with a cautious eye. It may have seemed such an absurd name if not for the fact that her father was speaking directly to the man in question without so much as a clue. She had invited the wolf into their home and he had devoured the sheep.

 Emma’s chair scraped the wood floor as she stood in a rush.

 “Mr. Jones, I do believe it is getting late and you said you needed to return to your ship soon.”

 Her father, completely stunned, told the young lieutenant that he didn’t wish to keep him, and Killian for his part nodded and thanked her father for a delightful evening. 

 Emma followed Killian outside, where he immediately turned to her and tried to speak, but she cut him off, enraged at his audacity.

 “Mr. Jones-”

 “Am I no longer Killian to you?”

 “Mr. Jones, given the situation, I must insist on following proper social decorum as not to beseech or sully my father’s name and standing in his post. I ask that you leave and that you do not return.”

 He only nodded and took his leave, breaking Emma’s heart in two as he did so.

_____________________________________

 Three months passed in which Emma devoted herself to her mother’s causes. It had been difficult at first as her mother pressed her in the days after the ball as to who her young lieutenant was, and Emma had assured her he was no one as she fought the urge to weep and scream and riot at the very thought of him. But when her father came home two weeks later, irate at learning that there was no such Lieutenant Jones on the HMS Condor, demanding that Emma have nothing to do with him and to report it if she ran into him again, Mary Margaret finally let the subject go. 

 Instead, her mother nurtured her as best she could, teaching her a new needle point technique, recommending books for Emma to read as the newest member of the women’s auxiliary book club. Anything she could to keep Emma’s mind busy. 

 Ruby tried as well, showing Emma new places in the city, showing her a mix of the roads less traveled by most sightseers. They shopped at the market and even learned to cook a new dish from an older Egyption woman that Ruby’s Granny had befriended. Ruby still took her monthly trips to have lunch with Belle, but Emma always declined. 

 Still, despite all of her activities, Emma found her mind wandering to a certain pair of blue eyes. Sometimes the thought of him sickened her so, but sometimes it just left her with a sense of melancholy. 

 He’d been the only man to captivate her so, to make her feel like she had value as a woman as more than just a future wife or daughter. She’d seen it in the way he interacted with Belle as well. He was different, and she’d foolishly allowed herself to believe him her equal in many ways.

 But he was a coward and a cod. 

 Two month more passed before Ruby finally broke, telling Emma she was being stubborn. That there was more to the story and that if Emma would only keep an open mind, that she would understand. 

 They fought, and Emma sent her away just as she had Killian. But Ruby had managed to dig her way into Emma’s mind, and her will shattered, curiosity settling into the cracks. Finally, Emma gave in and sought out Belle, with Ruby’s help.

 She learned that Killian once had an older brother named Liam. That Belle had actually been engaged to Liam before his passing, and that Killian and she had latched onto each other in the years since as the only family either one had left. That both Jones brothers had been sent by her Majesty to oversee the construction of the canal. That the working conditions for the Egyptians had been less than ideal. It was essentially slave labor, and many of them became ill and if they didn’t die from exhaustion and hunger, they died of cholera instead. That Liam had passed after getting sick as well.

 It had all been too much for Killian, who had witnessed everything first hand. The poor conditions, the way his countrymen had come to ravage a country, to indoctrinate themselves. He couldn’t be a party to it anymore, so he took his brother’s ship and crew and they revolted. They shed their uniforms and sailed under no man but themselves. They captured vessels and stole cargo belonging to the queen, giving it back to the Egyptians to sell for profit in reparations.

 It was so much more than Emma could comprehend. She’d seen firsthand how the British had taken over parts of the city, but she’d never considered it on such a large scale. And the thought of everything Killian had witnessed, she wouldn’t have had the strength to survive it all the way he had. 

 She’d been such a fool to dismiss him so carelessly, ignoring everything she’d known about him in favor of the limited gossip her father had spared her over a meal one night. 

 Belle told her that she expected Killian in a few days time, and told Emma where his ship usually made port to avoid the Naval ships in the area and where’s she’d likely find him in the mid morning. The next two days Emma felt her stomach in knots with anticipation and nerves. She’d barely been able to eat dinner and her mother had fretted that Emma had taken ill. 

 Sneaking away had been a thing of miracles, and had taken Ruby’s use of distraction, leaving Emma to roam the city alone for the first time. She knew the way, but there had been rumors of unrest in the city again, and although the port Killian used wasn’t far, she’d wished she’d heeded everyone's warnings when she found herself surrounded by two angry men, screaming at her in a language she didn’t understand. She tried to apologize for whatever she’d done and move on, but the men were enraged, and before she knew it, one of them and moved closer. She hadn’t been prepared for the stinging blow that crossed her cheek, nearly knocking her to the ground. 

 She felt herself being shoved back and forth between the two of them and felt nothing but fear. She’d never been in such a situation and had no way to defend herself. But just as one of them had pushed her against the wall, she heard another voice call out for them to let her go. There was a commotion, but her tear filled eyes had prevented her from seeing most of what had happened. All she’d caught was a blurry figure punching one of the men and both of them taking off down an ally, leaving her in the man’s charge. 

 The man tried to comfort her, but she recoiled from his touch, breaking into full hysterics, screaming at him to get away, trying to push against his chest when he didn’t leave. Instead he only pulled her closer and hugged her tightly until exhaustion set in and she collapsed into him.

 “Shh, It’s okay, love, I’ve got you.”

 It was only after she’d calmed down that she was finally able to make sense of what had occurred. Killian had seen the men pushing her and had come to her rescue. She collapsed into him once again, letting herself sink into his embrace that time. When they broke apart, she felt his fingers lift at her chin while he looked her over. 

 “Emma, what are you doing out here alone?”

 “I,” she hesitated, not sure how to begin her apology. “I actually came to find you. I needed to speak to you.”

 He gave her a small cautious smile, but he kept his distance, still unsure of his place with her. It broke her heart all over again, knowing that she’d caused him pain. “Come now, let’s get you out of here.”

 Emma followed him back to the market where more Englishmen were milling about. “Smee, something has come up that I must see to. I trust you to take care of things here.”

 “Aye, Captain.”

 Emma watched as Killian handed the stocky man a small notebook before taking her hand and guiding her away towards an area she had never been to before. They walked for a bit in silence before coming upon one of the most breathtaking views Emma had ever experienced. The water stretched out as far as the eye could see.

 “I’ve always found the sight of the sea from this place to be calming. I thought that perhaps you could use some of that calmness after what happened back there.”

 “It’s beautiful.”

 Killian removed his jacket and set it on the ground at Emma’s feet, signaling for her to sit. With his aid, she lowered herself down until she was in a seated position where he joined her. They sat in silence for a bit while Emma worked through her muddled thoughts. She’d had a plan before the incident but everything she’d practiced in her head seemed silly by comparison.

 “I wanted to thank you, Killian.” She hoped that the use of his name would have the impact it deserved.

 “It was nothing.”

 “No, I- I’m sorry, I’ve lost all sense of myself. I just needed to apologize, for that night, for everything. I acted rashly without knowing all of the details and I was a child throwing a tantrum. And then after I treated you so poorly, you still came to my rescue.”

 The longer she spoke the more incoherent her words became and she was sure she’d messed up anything all over again.  But once again, Killian was the pinnacle of kindness and good form. 

 “Emma, you had no reason to act any differently. I selfishly crashed your party and then made a cad of myself in front of your father. I’m ashamed of myself for the way I carried on that night and your actions were completely justified.”

 “They weren’t though, and I’ve been sick at myself ever since. Please forgive me.”

 “Emma, love, there’s nothing to forgive on your part.” “Then there’s nothing to forgive on yours either then.”

 He nodded.

 “But I must ask, why did you come that night?”

 “Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. I’ve been besotten with you since the moment I met you, and with all the talk of the ball, I drove myself mad at the idea of you dancing with all of those men. I know it was stupid and selfish, but I couldn’t not go. Belle gave me the information.”

 “And should I have not sent you away, what would have happened?”

 “Emma,” he warned, but she continued. 

 “Would that dance have been the end of the evening?”

 “Emma, I’m trying my best to be a gentleman here. Please. I beg of you.” There was a pleading in his voice. Something she knew was dangerous to push at, but she couldn’t help herself. Not after all of the time she’d wasted avoiding him.

 “Would you have watched as I danced with my next partner?”

 “Yes. I would have watched with hatred in my heart towards the man holding you in his arms, and I likely would have slipped out before you could notice.”

 “And that would have been it?”

 “Aye. But I would have left wondering,” she nodded for him to continue, “what it would have been like to kiss you.”

 “And now, would you continue to wonder?” All sensibility clearly having left her head as she never would have been so forward had she had her wits about her.

 But all thoughts of her impropriety were gone as his lips met hers, ever so softly. Nothing more than a light press of his mouth to hers before he pulled back. She let out the softest of sighs before flashing him a smirk that left him beaming from ear to ear light a young school boy.

 They stayed there, in that calm little island among the land for another hour, discussing things Emma had never allowed herself to voice aloud before, an ease and understanding having formed between them. Emma told him of the true reason her father had been stationed in Alexandria. She’d also spoken of why she’d been so sullen at the idea of leaving England. It wasn’t the idea of leaving her childhood home, or her friends, but at leaving behind any chance she had at independence. 

 Two years prior, the University of London had become one of the first in the country to allow women to not only sit for exams but to earn their degrees. Emma had dreamt of becoming a solicitor, but her move to Egypt had all but assured that dream dead. Instead, she would become like every other woman she knew, marrying an eligible suitor and bearing his children, to live a dreadfully boring life. 

 Killian told her that her dream would only die if she let it. That he believed in her and that he’d yet to see her fail at anything she’d put her mind to. He encouraged her to apply to the university and to speak with her parents. That even in his limited interaction, he could see the love her father had for her and that he’d want nothing more than her happiness.

 He also told her the truth, the entire truth about the activities aboard his ship. That they had many friends that gave them safe harbor and protection from the Navy. That they ever only took items that belonged to the royals and other aristocracy. They never took from people that needed it. 

 She learned of his childhood. A drunk sot of a father and a sick mother. He and Liam joined the Navy as soon as they came of age hoping to improve their station. He spoke of Liam in the highest regards, and Emma wished she could have met him.

 They eventually were forced to leave their little oasis to join Ruby and Belle for lunch, receiving knowing looks from both of the ladies as they sat side by side for the first time, feeling a rush each time their hands brushed each other’s at the table. 

 When they parted, Killian promised to write to her as often as possible as he had no idea when he’d next be able to visit. Soon he hoped, but they both knew that her father had doubled down on his efforts to capture the elusive Captain Hook since letting him slip through his fingers at the Winter Ball. More patrols had been sent and there had even been a reward offered for information leading to his capture. He assured Emma that he knew the waters better than anyone and wouldn’t get caught but she worried just the same.

 Over the next few months, Emma and Killian exchanged letters through Belle. Their mutual friend knew of Killian’s confidants in the city that could get corresponce out by other means. From what she gathered, Killian spent a large portion of his time in Turkey, an ally of England, but not under its control and therefore having no obligation to the crown. Higher officials could more easily be bought there as well, making it a safe haven of sorts for him to hide from her father’s constant searches. 

 She wrote to him as well telling him that she had secretly applied to three universities in England, not that she expected anything to come of any of her applications when there were so few spots available and much more well connected families, while she was doing it completely alone. She wrote to him about the books she was reading as well, many of which he’d read himself, with Killian recommending more she may like.

 Emma spent most of her free time with Belle. Ruby had taken a new beau and they’d only connected in passing. Emma envied her the ability to properly court her young petty officer, even if it meant having Granny as a chaperone most of the time. 

 Belle’s research had nearly come to an end. With no results, receiving funding had been more difficult and her employer had nearly exhausted his own purse in their search for the library. There had been a few times that they’d believed themselves close, but each of those resulted in disappointment. 

 Emma dreaded the idea of Belle leaving Egypt, but if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, it was likely for the best. Incidents like the one Killian had saved her from had become all too common in the city. Reports of attacks on British men had begun to circulate, and Emma knew it was only a matter of time before venturing into the city would be impossible. She often worried about Belle. Her hired guide knew the area, but should a situation arise, she wasn’t sure where his true loyalty would lie, or if he'd be able to protect her friend, and the idea of anything happening to Belle left Emma feeling ill.

 And as it always happens, all good things did come to an end. Belle’s research was cancelled and her entire team had packed up, ready to return to London after years away. Emma spent the morning with her, helping to see to the rest of her belongings in her small apartment, making sure nothing was left behind. Ruby had managed to pry herself away from Peter long enough to join them as well. Emma had written to Killian, but given tensions everywhere, knew that it would be unlikely that he’d be able to see their friend off. 

 Not that anything between them would ever really be goodbye with their connection. In time they would find eachother again. But it was that very connection that ensured Killian was there for one last farewell lunch. They ate and despite the stories told and the laughs had, the entire meal was a somber affair, each person there realising that everything was changing and nothing would ever be the same.

 When lunch was over, they all left the brasserie one final time, exchanging their goodbyes. The woman all cried as they hugged and promised to write one another. Seeing the embrace between Belle and Killian nearly broke Emma’s heart. She knew how important they were to each other, the familial bond between them, and she knew how hard it must have been for Killian, knowing that he’d be unable to return to England to visit her. Not when he was deemed a deserter by many. She watched as he whispered something in Belle’s ear, and how Belle could only shake her head in return, too choked up for words.

 Ruby left first, having made plans with her father and Peter, hoping to seek her father’s approval. Belle left next, her ship departing shortly after, which left only Emma and Killian. They walked slowly through the market, Emma’s hand placed gently in the crook of Killian’s arm, just like any normal couple. Together, they simply enjoyed the time they had before he had to leave again. 

 They continued through the city until they’d made their way to the spot Killian had brought her to before. Just as before, he removed his jacket for her to sit on, and there they talked as they took in the sight of the sea before them. As the sun lowered, Emma knew she should be getting back before her family missed her, but she hated the idea of saying goodbye to him. 

 They waited as long as possible, until they could wait no more. But before they headed back, Killian told her that he had a gift for her. She’d expected a small jar of spices or a book like he’d brought to Belle in the past, but instead she watched as his hand rummaged with the collar of his blouse before freeing a small silver chain. She caught just the faintest glimpse of a jewel before Killian had closed her hand around the chain, the weight of it in her palm heavier than expected. 

 “This belonged to my brother, who gave it to me before he passed. He told me that it would keep me safe, just as it had him, and for all of these years it has. And now I want you to have it. To keep you safe as well when I can’t be with you.”

 “Killian, I can’t accept this. It’s too precious!”

 “Emma, love, nothing is more precious to me than you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you here.”

 Throwing away all sense of propriety, Emma lifted to her tiptoes, resting her hands on his chest as she did so, kissing him with all of the affection she felt in her heart. 

 Her joy was short live though as she heard a throat clear from behind her. Stunned, she turned, only to find her father staring back. She’d never seen such a look upon his face, and her blood turned to ice.

 “Emma, come here now,” he growled.

 “Daddy, please, it’s not what you think.”

 “Now!”

 Emma did as her father commanded, helpless to disobey him, but she continued to plead for Killian, telling her father that he was a good man and that she loved him. Her father baulked at the idea, telling her that she was a naive child that had been taken advantage of. He told Killian that had it not been for Emma’s presence, he would have had the man seized and chained to the stockades already. That he’d found the letters Killian had sent his daughter. David was livid that his Emma had been so irresponsible and had betrayed his trust.

 Emma wept as Killian left, unable to say anything to change her father’s mind. He parted with a promise to her that not a day would go by that he didn’t think of her. In return, her father promised that if he ever saw Killian again, he’d have him hung for treason.

 In the weeks and months that follow Emma was inconsolable. She’d lost nearly everyone that had meant anything to her. Her father kept a strict eye on her and her interactions with Ruby were limited, and only allowed under supervision. Without Belle to help her send letters, she had been completely cut off from everything.

 Most of her time was spent in a melancholy daze. Her mother tried her best to lift her daughter’s spirits, but Emma was despondent. Even when her letter from the University of London arrived informing her she had been accepted to study with them hadn’t been enough to pull her from her misery. It didn’t help that her father had become upset at learning of her intent to leave for school, just another secret she’d kept from him in his eyes.

 She moved through life as a walking ghost. 

 The climate surrounding the city has escalated as well. Many of the Europeans had fled the city in favor of Cairo where the political situation was less terse. The officers on the base had been warned to stay ever vigilant, and visits into Alexandria had been officially forbidden. 

 No one could have predicted what had come next though. A member of the Egyptian Army who went by the name of Ahmed Urabi, had sparked a revolt among the people. The whispers among the countrymen had become shouts heard from all the way across the Mediterranian. Killian knew all too well the anger dwelling among the Egyptian nationals. He’d seen first hand how the canal had run red with the blood of the men that built it long before it had with the sea. And he knew it was only a matter of time before the land became overrun with devastation. 

 He’d also heard chatter of British ships collecting in the sea, ready wage an assault on the city, and how quickly tensions could rise. Emma was in danger, and it killed him not being there to protect her, and while her father was formidable, David didn’t know the people or the city. 

 Eventually, it became too much, and his worry for Emma’s safety outweigh any consideration he gave to his own life. What was the use of avoiding the hangman’s noose with her gone? So he sailed into the heart of the beast, to the ship he knew Emma’s father commanded, allowing his ship to be boarded by British officers for the first time since Liam’s death.

 Killian pleaded with Emma’s father, telling him that a revolt was coming, but his warning came too late as the city had been taken under siege that morning. Riots had broken out all over the Alexandria, and that the British armada had orders to attack the city. It took ages of arguing between the two men before a resolution had been found. Killian was certain that the base was in danger, that it would be one of the first places attacked if it hadn’t been already. David, ever as stubborn as his daughter assured him that the base was the safest place Emma could be. It wasn’t until Killian listed all of the ways to sneak it that David realized his concerns may have merit. And it was only on Killian’s solemn word to return with Emma and Mary Margaret and turn himself in to be tried before a British court for his actions against the crown that David relented, letting him sail on towards Alexandria. Killian was sure that if not for his strict orders, David likely would have sailed right next to him. 

 When he and his crew docked at their usual spot, he found the city in near ruins already. Fires raged through the buildings, people fought in the streets, dragging expats through the narrow corridors by their clothes. Killian rushed through the city as quickly as possible, taking shortcuts wherever he could, throwing a few punches along the way. His sword found its way in the belly of a particularly large rioter at one point. Eventually he reached the base, as just as he had worried, there were already rioters beating against the building doors, tearing down everything in their path. 

 Killian pushed past them to the house he knew belonged to the highest ranking officer. Knowing that Emma and her mother were likely hiding inside, he kicked down the door, searching for them room by room, calling out her name until he heard her voice, small and weak, coming from a closet. Inside, he found Emma, her mother, and Ruby all huddled together trying to shelter themself from the chaos of the outside world. 

 With reluctance, Killian finally managed to convince Mary Margaret that she wasn’t safe there and that she needed to follow him. That he would keep them all safe. They fought their way through the pandemonium, running as fast as they could from the hoards of men screaming in the street. 

 When they reached Killian’s ship, his crew wasted no time setting sail again. They had only barely left when they heard the shots of cannon fire ring out from the other side of the city. Smoke and ashes overtook the sky as Alexandria burned before them. Killian’s first mate tended to the women aboard, making sure they had food and blankets as the ship drifted further and further to sea. 

 It was surreal for Emma, the dichotomy of the beauty she experienced from nearly that same spot as she arrived in Alexandria only the year before to the way she left it, in desolation. For hours, the ship stayed anchored away from the battle that raged on between the British and Egyptians. The booming cannons rang out through the night, and silence overtook everyone on the ship, each man and woman understanding the weight of what had happened.

 It wasn’t until morning when Killian’s crewman witnessed an Egyptian boat float out to sea with a flag of truce that everyone was able to breathe again. As promised, Killian returned Emma, Ruby, and Mary Margaret to David’s ship, awaiting his own fate at the hands of Her Majesty's Navy. 

 And whether it was exhaustion from the night before, or the gratefulness of a man whose family was safe, David didn’t immediately take Killian into custody. Instead, he had the man escorted to the Captain’s day cabin, while his family was taken to his quarters to rest. Emma was too tired to even protest, but Killian couldn’t begrudge her. She’d been through too much and no matter what fate befell him, knowing she was safe was all that mattered. David had been right before, and as much as Killian had been remiss to admit it to himself at the time, he wasn’t good enough for Emma. He couldn’t give her the life that she deserved as a man on the run, and after years of always looking over his shoulder, he was ready to accept his fate. He was just too tired to continue.

 He wasn’t sure how long he waited, likely only an hour, but it felt as if weeks had passed before David emerged, his fatigue obvious in the bags under his eyes. David gestured for him to sit at the round table in the middle of the room, before taking a seat himself.

 “I’ve looked into your record. One of the fastest promoted Lieutenants in recent history. Plenty of commendations. You were once an honorable man and I have to believe he’s still in there somewhere.”

 Killia had no idea how to respond. It was a far cry from the dress down he’d expected and deserved. So he said nothing.

 They sat in silence, each savoring the calmness of the moment. 

 “I can’t let you go, but I can’t send you to your death after you sacrificed yourself for my family. I’m at a loss for what should happen next.”

 “What I did, saving Emma wasn’t to barter my way into your good graces, or to leverage my situation. I did it because I’m in love with her. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, and I’ve acted rashly at times, and I stand by the actions I took. But I’ve also come to see through Emma, that I wish to be a better man than I’ve been. And that begins now with me accepting the consequences of my actions, whatever they may be.”

 David barked out a laugh.

 “Yes, and that would go so well for me with my daughter.”

 “She loves you. Surely you must know that.”

 “I do.”

 “Emma carries a great deal of guilt over the end of her relationship with Neal, and the adverse effects it had on you. She holds you in the highest regard and I promise you, she didn’t enter into a courtship with me lightly.”

 David stood and walked to a small porthole where the view of the sun setting against the water was visible.

 “Is that what it was then? A courtship?”

 “You would have to ask Emma.”

 David's gaze remained fixed on the horizon as they continued to speak.

 “My daughter was accepted to a university back in England. She doesn’t know yet but she begins her courses in a month’s time. And although I know it’s what her heart truly desires, I find that I’m having a difficult time letting her go.”

 “Aye, I can imagine.” Killing couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in Emma's accomplishment, even if it did sting to know she was leaving.

 “How did you do it? How did you let her go?”

 Killian swallowed, trying to find the words. It wasn’t that he had let her go, as much as he had let her free. 

 “It wasn’t easy for me either, but as I said before, Ilove her, and sometimes loving someone means realizing that you have to put their needs above your own.”

 David grumpled before rubbing his face with both hands. 

 “I can’t make any promises, but I will see what I can do about having your charges dismissed. No one outside of my family knows who you are. As far as the navy is concerned, you’re nothing more than a deserter.”

 “I’m grateful, but you needn’t-”

 “What I need is to know Emma has someone with her in London watching out for her. I can’t leave my post, and most of the officers back in England are terrified of Neal's father and will keep their distance out of fear of repercussions. As reluctant as I am to say this, you’re the only person I trust with her.”

 It took some doing, many favors called in, but David was able to clear Killian’s record and his time was considered served. Many of the crew members aboard Killian’s ship had been just as grateful to step back on English soil after so many years away. While none of them had verbalised it, they’d each grown homesick in their own rights. 

 Killian found honest work with Belle and her research team, translating some of the more rare manuscripts they had come across on their newest search for the Temple of Deir el-Bahri, believed to be the resting place of the only three women to rise to the position of pharaoh. 

 And over the next few years, Emma was able to finish her degree, receiving it under her new married name with David’s blessing. Her father remained in Egypt, still under banishment from Admiral Gold. Long after their daughter was born, Belle and Killian managed to decipher the exact location of Hatshepsut’s resting place, which meant returning to Egypt. Killian had been reluctant to leave, but Emma insisted, reminding him that while Belle was great with books, they needed him for translations. The dig turned out to be a once in a lifetime find, and kept growing, so much so that he’d written to Emma, devastated that he’d be unable to return home in time for christmas. 

 Which had led to a lonely Emma telling her daughter the very story in question. 

 _____________________________________

 The cocoa has cooled and the fire in the hearth long dwindled. It’s chilly in the drafty house once more, and while she briefly considers adding more wood to it, the hour is late and she really should be getting her little one to bed.

  “So Papa started the cinnamon tradition?”

 “Yes my little duck. You father introduced it to me, and he passed it on to you as well.”

 The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh.

 “I miss him. In class we wrote to Father Christmas and I asked him to bring Papa home. Do you think he got my letter?”

 Emma’s heart breaks at the question. Her daughter is still young, too young to understand that Father Christmas is only an illusion, something told to little children to get the magic of the world alive, and that no amount of magic in the world can bring Killian home in time for Christmas morning.

 But sometimes, just as her daughter told her that evening, you only have to believe in magic for it to work, and her daughter's belief has apparently been just enough for the biggest Christmas miracle that Emma has ever witnessed. 

 Because there before them, in a freshly opened doorway just before midnight, stands Killian covered in snow from head to toe. And he isn’t alone. Shuffling into the entryway behind him is her mother and father, neither of which she’s seen since leaving Alexandria. It’s everything she can do not to cry as she rushes to hug them all. 

 Her daughter screams once she realizes what’s happening and leaps into Killian’s arms as he introduces her to her grandparents for the first time ever. They speak of David’s retirement and her parents plans to move back to London as they’ve already missed so much time together. 

 Later, when everyone is settled, Killian pulls her aside, and he reveals a small sprig of Mistletoe from his jacket pocket, kissing her with all of the passion of a man who hasn’t seen his wife in nearly seven months.

 Things may not be what they were, but this is so much better.

[emersonfreepress]

okay so is there content that you had planned for the ROs and story in general but then scrapped cause there wasn’t a good place in the story to stick it in? and if so, can you share what it was? 👀 👀 👀

yes, definitely. *rubs hands together* oh man, you done asked THE question today xD I can't wait to get into this 😁

Academics. I almost decided to have classes and grades be a minor part of gameplay, but the more time I spent designing it the more I realized I wanted nothing to do with it 😂 I haven’t really enjoyed academic gameplay in other interactive fiction because I 1) hate having to choose between studying and interacting with awesome characters, 2) have terrible short term memory, and 3) hate school in general!! So instead I just opted to have the MC be really good at school, point blank period so I could focus on social drama and relationships instead! 😆

Physical skills. I spent literal months crafting the catering scene around setting up stats for stamina/endurance, dexterity, and strength instead of just magnetism, confidence, and persuasion. They had their own backstories with the MC’s parents being overly invested sports parents instead and I think the background choices were like... martial arts, gymnastics, and track? But yeah, I ended up scrapping it all because I was spending hours on research about those individual sports so I could integrate them into the MC’s narrative organically but like... when I tried to think of what use they would be in the actual story, I came up blank. Best decision yet, esp since it means a lot less coding!

Skin tone customization. For one, I noticed that a lot of my favorite IFs don’t offer that customization and it hasn’t impacted my experience at all. For two, I originally realized I might as well not implement it since I am striving real hard not to introduce any customization that won’t actually be mentioned in interesting or meaningful ways in-story. I don’t think it’s really all that common for real life friends (esp in high school?) to comment or compliment each other’s skin and like... when it comes from someone who doesn’t share a similar complexion or ethnic background, that type of commentary gets... d i c e y. So then I wanted to be sensitive to that but what’s the pay-off? An RO mentioning how they love your skin tone once? Awkward sentences with the MC referring to their own skin color? Idk, just wasn’t vibing with it. I’m open to revisiting it in beta or something but for now it’s scrapped.

Singing, Rapping, and Gaming as Hobbies/Talents. I feel bad about scrapping these, honestly 😂 They’re great and I really wanted to incorporate them but it just came down to already having a lot of stuff to code. Plus, I know I can write the Hobbies/Talents I stuck with far better. And for Book 2 purposes, as well!

Leo. as @sourandflightypeaches ​​ asked me about a long while ago, I had to scrap an entire RO 😢 His name is Leo, he was the nephew of wealthy west African diplomats residing in Emerson, and I love him dearly! His backstory was largely based on my mother’s childhood and the circumstances she lived through after immigrating to America. and... ok, i’m about to go on one hell of a tangent so buckle up and bear with me if you can 😅

my intention with this story, aside from writing things that I personally enjoy (graphic violence, spooky woods, social drama, romance, conspiracies 😚), is to explore greed, wealth, and how the ways people and families interact with those two things influence young people and who they grow up to be. here i go sounding pretentious af 😝 and here’s where I apply a cut for those who want to preserve a little mystery to the main characters!

With Gabe, we’ve got someone who grew up with very little stability or financial security but who has found unscrupulous methods to gain status and money, with both noble and selfish motivations.

Kile has some of that childhood experience in common with Gabe, having been in the foster care system since infancy, but they lucked out when they were adopted into massive wealth by a caring, loving couple—a couple that uses their wealth and privilege to be far more lenient and protective of Kile than is actually reasonable or responsible.

Jack comes from a prestigious wealthy family on his dad’s side who he loves dearly but there’s no getting around the fact that they love him back as much as they despise his working class mom.

Jessie is a spoiled sweet heiress (being the baby of her family and the only girl) and while she lives blissfully ignorant of the harmful source and impact of her father's income and career, she bears the weight of the expectation to fulfill very traditional gender roles, including her behavior and appearance, but also extending to her career and life plans.

Rain's wealth led to them growing up sheltered and isolated but also extremely accommodated, giving them maximum freedom and opportunity to discover and develop their personal talents and interests. However, they have almost no positive relationship with their parents who have essentially decided to give up on a kid that couldn't be exactly the accessory they tried to mold them to be—both in terms of their identity and personality.

Rupan/Rohan, at their very core, rejects everything about conformity, self-importance, and excessive luxury—which means they have never, ever truly fit in with their peers. Going full non-conformist, however, has resulted in them becoming alienated from much of their family, as well, despite them all loving each other very much. Their history with false friends and betrayals has led them to over-indulge in their vices and reckless behavior to compensate for that isolation. Sometimes, they just get in over their head and many times, they know better. Every time, it's just that the feeling of finally belonging is utterly intoxicating.

Vivian/Vincent has two extremely successful parents who didn't inherit but instead built up their wealth and they aspire to be just like them, to a degree that is well and truly unhealthy. Their mother specifically is an over-achiever and applies mountainous pressure for them to follow in her footsteps, especially academically. Vi is completely capable of achieving what their mom expects of them, but they were already an extremely sensitive perfectionist so this has made them intensely critical of themself. This is a large part of why they are such a rigid, no-nonsense person and that in turn has made them one of the most disliked people among their peers—which is a huge personal failure to them since their father is a very well-liked and socially successful person in town.

And the Emersons are peak privilege: inherent high social status, brains, looks, charisma, athleticism, and massive wealth. They could never have been anything less than extremely popular, just by virtue of their last name and the nature of the town's social dynamics and politics. And they do enjoy that privilege (esp Curt lol). However, it should go without saying that being so high profile, even (or maybe especially) just in the isolated scope of your hometown, isn't always a boon. Their family's and their own perceived failings are widely discussed and privately mocked and/or celebrated. Real friends are scarce while fake ones and snakes are plentiful. Plus their dad is a gigantic dickhead who sees his kids as extensions of his own status and reputation and not much else. Public shortcomings make for an unbearable time at home and the world outside the estate is at once overly accommodating, full of assumptions, and even subtly hostile at times—all unrelated to their own actions or character.

And with the MC, I think the narrative will make it clear there are several ways that story can go. You start off with irresponsible parents that have lost their wealth due to their own mismanagement and material ambitions—how that affects any individual MC should differ based on choices and consequences!

So why bring any of that up when I was supposed to be talking about my cut OC? 😂😂

Leo was going to be the unwelcome recent addition to his uncle’s household, the son of a brother his aunt hates for (petty af) Reasons, and she took that resentment out on him directly by restricting his access to nearly every aspect of the family's wealth. Especially material goods and living conditions. He was basically treated like the help, tasked with playing nanny for his many younger cousins and burdened with doing the homework and providing academic cover for his dumb as rocks cousin in the same grade as you all. To sum it up, he was basically a victim of trafficking at the hands of his own family with his uncle out of town enough to feign ignorance to how bad his wife was treating his nephew and his aunt going out of her way to keep him busy, at home, and isolated. This is sadly a super common form of trafficking in Francophone African cultures (although I don't think most people view it as trafficking. and I’m sure the same is true of other cultures but I don’t want to speak outside of my purview). And like I mentioned above, it’s how my own mom's (and idek how many cousins') child/teenhood went.

It’s a perspective on modern wealth, privilege and greed that I really, really wanted to tell. I am confident in saying it hasn't been explored in interactive fiction yet (though correct me—and direct me 👀—if I'm wrong) and out of all the wealth/greed explorations I came up with, it's the one I have the closest personal ties to and the strongest feelings about. The characters and plans I had for it were detailed and I'm proud of them but at the end of the day... I just couldn't find a place for Leo in the story at large.

Leo was, in fact, the last main character I came up with, when I had already designed and fleshed out the larger story and started crafting the timeline of major events. I think the worst thing I could have done for a story and perspective that I care about this much is shove it into a plot that didn't have room for it at the very base level, regardless of how well the character or his story is written. Shoe-horned characters always stick out. I didn’t want to disservice Leo by having him be the character that did nothing or could be removed from the main plot without affecting it at all, y’know? That’s so much worse than just forgoing the indulgence, imo :((

ugh.... Leooooo 😭 I'm so sorry bb, I failed youuu 😥

[ginazmemeoir]

Mughal Women

Ok while I was scrolling through tumblr today on women’s history, one thing struck me odd - there wasn’t a single post regarding the women of one of the richest, most powerful empires in the history of the world. So here’s to you ladies - icons, role models and most of all - badass queens.

1. Isaan Daulat (lit. Good fortune) : Grandmother of Zahiruddin Khan or as he is famous, Babur, the founder of the Mughal dynasty, Isaan Daulat regularly advised her son on statecraft and warfare, and carried out most of his diplomatic missions. According to a source, Isaan Daulat’s husband was once killed in a war against the Shah of Persia. The Shah thereafter proceeded to “gift” Isaan Daulat to one of his generals. However, the same night, Isaan Daulat had her retinue murder him in the courtyard, “while she sipped wine reclining in the moonlight courtyard” as a witness claimed. When the Shah arrived, he questioned her about this action, to which she replied, “Islam gives me a right as a widow to marry by my convenience. You just handed me to him like cattle, and therefore his killing is perfectly justified by Islamic Sharia. You should consider yourself lucky.” The Shah of Persia then sent back Isaan Daulat with the wealth and assets he gained from that war, and declared her and her lineage as his sister and nephews. This later helped to back the Mughals’ legitimacy. Sadly, Isaan Daulat could never enjoy the land her descendants called home.

2. Gulbadan (lit. she with a rose like body) : Gulbadan was Babur’s eldest daughter, and was quite adventurous. She had famously chronicled the lives of her father and her brother Humayun, the second Mughal emperor. She looked after administration while her brother fled from place to place. She had also embarked on a seven-year voyage to Mecca and Medina for The Hajj, encountering the malicious Portuguese (she had to bribe them with a fricking town for guarantee of safe passage), pirates, kings, sufis and many more, and was thus also called Hajji Begum. She held a special place in Akbar’s zenana as his aunt.

3. Hamida Banu : Princess of Sindh, she was married off at the age of 15 to a much older Humayun at the age of 15. She had accompanied Humayun in all his wars and also on his journey to Persia, for asking the Safavid Shahs to help them recapture Hindustan. She was Akbar’s mother.

4. Maham Anagah and Jiji Anagah : Akbar’s wet nurses, they had raised up Akbar while his parents tried to win their empire back. Maham Anagah was Akbar’s chief advisor and head of his zenana, before a failed coup by his son, after which he was killed and later on she was relieved of her post, despite still holding Akbar’s favour. Jiji Anagah’s children extensively married into the Mughal family, and her husband Mirza Aziz Koka was Akbar’s head of finance. Her family, wealth and power grew so much, as the Emperor’s favourites, that they were collectively known as the Atka Khail.

5. Ruqaiyya Begum : Akbar’s first cousin, and also his first wife, Ruqaiyya Begum was Akbar’s chief queen and Padshah Begum of the zenana. Though she remained childless, she reigned supreme in the zenana and commanded her husband’s respect in a society where a woman’s existence was through her children. She was the main force behind Noor Jahan and Jahangir’s wedding, and was also the person who raised Shah Jahan.

6. Salima Sultana Begum : Wife of Akbar’s general Bairam Khan, she was later married to Akbar after Bairam Khan’s assassination. Her son Abdur Rahim was later made Khan-i-Khanan or Commander of the Mughal Army. She was the one who had brought up Jahangir, and thus he was also called Salim. An erudite scholar, she managed Akbar’s library along with her own private collection, commissioning new works and translations of others. She later protected Jahangir from Akbar’s wrath after Jahangir had him poisoned in a bid for the throne.

7. Harkha Bai : Bollywood knows her as Jodhaa, while history knows her as Maryam-uz-Zamani, Harkha Bai was the Rajput Princess of Amer and the daughter of Raja Bharmal. She was married to Akbar as part of a political alliance, and later became Jahangir’s mother. She was the richest woman of her time, her wealth being more than Akbar’s, and she also had one of the most valuable lands (jagirs). There are 2 famous anecdotes on her - 

Once, an English merchant had bought her indigo farms at Bayana, Rajasthan. When she got to know of this, she practically destroyed that merchant, bought back that farm, and later had it burnt.

Another time, the Portuguese had captured and set fire to her ship the Rahimi, one of the largest and finest ships in that time, in a last bid to maintain their hold in India and the Arabian Sea against the increasingly powerful English. In retaliation, Jodhaa had all of their ships burnt, snatched their powers and wealth, and basically made paupers out of them. She died as the richest woman in Mughal history, before Noor Jahan.

8. Anarkali : A courtesan, with whom Jahangir (then Prince Salim) fell madly in love, many historians now consider the very real possibility that she never existed and was instead “invented” by the Mughal family as someone to blame for the tension between Akbar and Jahangir. According to the folklore, Akbar didn’t approve of Salim and Anarkali’s relation, and after she and Salim refused to end things, he had her entombed alive in a wall.

9. Maan Bai : Harkha Bai’s niece, she was Jahangir’s first wife. She later committed suicide by an overdose of opium when Jahangir had her son Khusrau blinded and imprisoned in a bitter war of succession. Her brother Man Singh was one of the Nine Gems (navaratna) of Akbar’s court, and had defeated Rana Pratap in the famous Battle of Haldighati.

10. Jagat Gosini : Princess of Jodhpur, she was the Padshah Begum of Jahangir’s zenana before Noor Jahan, and also the mother of Shah Jahan. She was the biggest obstruction in Noor Jahan’s historic rise to power. She was not on good terms with then Dowager Empress Ruqaiyya Begum (see above) and hence, Ruqaiyya Begum demanded that Shah Jahan be handed over to her so that she could raise him up, and also helped Noor Jahan against her. A local folklore also suggests that she had been the one behind the miscarriage of Noor Jahan after she had come into the zenana. She faded after Noor Jahan’s rise, but still held respect and power.

11. Noor Jahan (lit. Light of the World): The most famous and powerful woman in the history of the Mughals, Noor Jahan was born as Mehr-un-Nisa (lit. Sun amongst Women) to Persian immigrant parents. Brought up in Agra alongside Akbar’s court, Noor Jahan was an intelligent woman full of talent and potential. She was married off at 19 to Sher Afghan, a commander in Akbar’s army. The marriage was a failure, and moreover Noor Jahan suffered through 8 miscarriages with him, before the birth of her daughter, Ladli (lit. Darling or Beloved). After her husband was murdered in a coup, Ruqaiyya brought her to the Imperial Palace as part of her retinue, and later helped her and Jahangir get married, with she being Jahangir’s twentieth and final wife. Her rise to power was quick, owing to her own ambition and intellect, and some help from her father Itimad-ad-Daulah (Royal Treasurer of the Mughals), brother Asaf Khan (a prominent minister in Jahangir’s court) and Ruqaiyya Begum. Her seal as the Padshah Begum became second only to that of Jahangir, and later even surpassed his own. She brought great innovations to fashion, cosmetics, administration, architecture and gardening, city planning, and many more. She was the one who had arranged the marriage between her niece Arjumand Banu and Shah Jahan. Her marriage with Jahangir was a success – both of them were tempestuous and cared and loved each other deeply. Later, as Jahangir’s health started failing due to asthma and alcoholism, she took over the reigns and took the Mughal empire to great heights. The first British ambassador, Sir Thomas Roe, arrived in her time. However, she gave the British no rights or privileges till the Rahimi incident, and extracted a great many gifts from him, including a carriage made entirely of silver. She had designed her parents’ tomb near the Yamuna river in Agra (it was later copied by Shah Jahan), and she also designed Jahangir’s tomb in Lahore (modern day Punjab, Pakistan). She had tried to get Shah Jahan to marry her own daughter, but he refused and so she completely withdrew her support from making him the emperor, and instead opposed him. Shah Jahan thus had to flee to Burhanpur, with his eldest children Dara Shukoh, Jahanara, Aurangzeb and Roshanara in Noor Jahan’s custody. Later, he waged war against Noor Jahan with help from her brother Asaf Khan. Noor Jahan was ultimately defeated in Kashmir. She was deprived of her wealth, status and power and exiled to Lahore with her daughter and granddaughter. Her influence still remained, with Shah Jahan keeping her legacy alive by copying the Taj Mahal from the tomb she designed for her parents.

12. Mumtaz Mahal : Born as Arjumand Banu, she was Noor Jahan’s niece and Shah Jahan’s most beloved. She died in childbirth while giving birth to her fourteenth child – a girl called Gauhar.

13. Jahanara : Eldest daughter of Shah Jahan, she was the one who headed the empire after Shah Jahan was left heartbroken following Mumtaz’s death, and became active in the construction of the Taj Mahal. Noor Jahan is often described as being fond of her, taking care of her education personally. She was known as Padshah Mallika, and her flower-shaped seal was the most powerful. She was an accomplished dancer, poet and a patron of the arts. She conducted the most expensive wedding ever, between her brother Dara Shukoh and Nadira Banu Begum, valued at 2 lakh rupees then, approximately 2 billion USD in today’s time.  She supported Dara Shukoh in his bid to become emperor. Later, she was imprisoned by Aurangzeb after he imprisoned Shah Jahan and killed all his remaining brothers.

14. Roshanara : Shah Jahan’s younger daughter, she was also an accomplished poet, but always at loggerheads with Jahanara. She later supported Aurangzeb as emperor.

15. Dilras Banu Begum : Aurangzeb’s first wife and Padshah Begum of his zenana, Dilras Banu belonged to the Safavid dynasty of Persia. She was mother of all of Aurangzeb’s children. However, she died an year before Aurangzeb’s succession. The Bibi ka Maqbara (Tomb of the Lady) in Aurangabad, which bears a striking resemblance to the Taj Mahal, was constructed by Aurangzeb in her honour.

16. Zeenat-un-Nisa : Aurangzeb’s eldest daughter, she was the Padshah Mallika after her mother’s death. She survived Aurangzeb by a great many years, and was respected by his successors as a remnant of a magnificent past. She was known for her charity, and was buried in the Zeenat-ul-Masjid built by her in Dlehi.

17. Zeb-un-Nisa : Aurangzeb’s favourite daughter, Zeb-un-Nisa was the most accomplished poet in Mughal history, with her works still surviving and enjoyed. She was an atheist, but later converted to Sufism. She led a secret society, and lead a rebellion against the oppressive and harsh rule of her father. She was subsequently imprisoned by Aurangzeb, where she died. She was buried in the Tees Hazari Bagh (Garden of 30,000 Trees) near the Kashmiri Darwaza (Kashmir Gate) in North Delhi. Her tomb was later shifted at Akbar’s Mausoleum in Sikandra, Agra when Delhi was expanded following Independence.

Well people, this has been an informative post. You’re welcome.

Sources : Daughters of the Sun by Ira Mukhoty, Empress : the Astonishing reign of Noor Jahan by Ruby Lal.

[aion-rsa]

From Bridgerton to Sanditon—Putting Island Queen in a Period Drama Context

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This article contains book spoilers for Island Queen and a trigger warning for racism and sexual assault.

Caribbean history is often ignored in US discussions of the era, despite myself and many other Americans having ancestry from this part of the world. Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park has extended references to Caribbean slavery but many adaptations sidestep these implications or briefly address them before moving back to the white main characters. In addition, the focus is often on male leaders of rebellions such as Toussaint L’Overture leading the Haitian rebellion, or on women with island ancestry such as Dido Elizabeth from the movie Belle living in England. All are written by white novelists and screenwriters who miss cultural nuances and are unaware of subconscious bias. Island Queen, Vanessa Riley’s latest foray into Black historical fiction reveals a hidden figure of Caribbean history. Dorothy Kirwan was born into slavery in Montserrat, but secured her own freedom by becoming an astute businesswoman. 

Riley’s novel takes readers on a complex but emotionally fufilling journey which brings up serious historical questions on slavery, class, gender, and business ethics during the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Riley’s novel is the answer for fans who feel recent historical dramas prioritize varying levels of whitewashing or escapism over featuring real Black history. 

Kirwan’s story has incredible relevance today as many look to understand the enduring legacies of British colonialism and the slave trade in the late 18th and early 19th Century. Her diary does not exist but Riley assembled birth records and other primary sources to trace her life. This is in contrast to sources such as the anonymously published novel The Woman Of Colour which historians are still looking to corroborate authorship and connections to real Caribbean figures.   Kirwan at times the mirror image of the fictionalized story of July from The Long Song, but there are also flash points of difference along class and timeframe context. July was born roughly 50 years later than Kirwan in Jamaica.  In addition, Dorothy’s life journey takes the reader from Montserrat to Demerara (off the coast of modern day Guyana), Grenada, and Dominica. Most importantly, Riley is an Caribbean-American writer while Andrea Levy wrote The Long Song for Black British readers. 

Dorothy’s in-character first person narration is the glue that holds the story together through frequent flashbacks to her childhood and young adulthood to her life in 1824 as a grandmother. The main theme of self-determination in a world where rich white men decide the rules everyone must play keeps the reader engaged even when it is not clear where the plot is heading. In the present plot, Dorothy has returned to London after many years away to petition colonial leaders to retain hard-won rights for Black and biracial women in Demerara. These unequal laws threaten Dorothy’s children and grandchildren and could even take away the freedom and inheritance she has spent her whole life to build. 

Bridgerton’s critics will find solace in Island Queen. Those who wanted the Black aristocracy of Haiti and other Caribbean islands featured in the series will find this history at the center. Kirwan navigates a world with inherent inequality, despite how much she has achieved in property ownership and savings. When she interacts with British and colonial elites, they never treat her as if she has power over them. The racial caste system in existence influences all of her interactions. After a breakup, she takes up an offer from Prince William (Queen Victoria’s uncle who died with no legitimate heirs) to travel with him on his ship. In Dorothy’s story, he provides a temporary emotional distraction but also a recognition that she would never fit into the British elite because of her skin color and island background. Unlike Queen Charlotte in Bridgerton, the real prejudices of the era held Dorothy back from ascending completely into the highest levels of royal society. Riley’s narrative, especially, ignores what could have been and shows readers the truth. 

These rich white men who placed artificial limits on Dorothy were also the source for young Alexander Hamilton’s childhood poverty. However, his solution as featured in the opening song of Hamilton was to leave the islands to pursue his education in America. This was an option steeped in male and to an extent white privilege as women at this point in history were not allowed to attend college. In addition, American society had already enacted severe restrictions in the rights of free people of color. Hamilton also was an orphan. Dorothy’s parents and her children kept her rooted to the Caribbean. 

The road to Dorothy acquiring a thriving business and heirs was lengthy and arduous, and Riley does not sugar coat the dynamics at play in her life. Kirwan’s mother was a slave and her father owned a plantation. The more percentage of white ancestry you have in your blood, the more freedom and rights you have. In her teenage years, Dorothy’s white half-brother Nicholas rapes her and she ends up giving birth to a daughter. Dorothy is forced to run away with a trusted friend to another island and has to leave her daughter behind. This is the beginning of many sacrifices she makes in order to protect her family. 

Although many readers may object to Riley portraying incest and sexual assault, the historical research makes this clear that this was the reality for women in slave societies. Dorothy’s narration is carefully crafted to show not only the trauma of the event, but her processing the trauma. For Dorothy, healing comes in the form of survival. The objective isn’t exploitation or the male gaze, but to illuminate ignored history and the intersection of race and gender in sexual power dynamics. Dorothy has to repeatedly establish consent and trust in a world where her partners can and will refuse to agree to those terms. The debate over rape culture in historical fiction revolves around characters that are fictional facing fictionalized situations, especially in the TV adaptations of Outlander and Bridgerton. Additionally, Outlander has sidestepped any serious contemplation of exploitation dynamics in slave societies despite plots featuring 8th Century Jamaica and North Carolina.  It is difficult to apply this same critique to Riley’s novel as her intention is historical recreation and reconstruction of Kirwan’s life story. 

Riley’s explanation and contextualization of race and gender dynamics is something many viewers wanted the first season of British historical drama Sanditon to address, past the show alluding to Georgiana’s ancestry and £100,000 inheritance. In fact, Riley explains in the Author’s Note that the journey to finding Dorothy Kirwan began with figuring out who the real Miss Lambe could have been over a decade ago. For Georgiana to have that kind of wealth, she would have had to have a white male ancestor willing and able to use the law to secure her freedom. Sidney’s connection to Georgiana as her legal ward isn’t clear, representing a missed opportunity that erodes the story’s worldbuilding. Dorothy’s explanation of social rankings and her own background means it is highly likely Georgiana is the product of a relationship between a white planter and an enslaved or indentured woman. Georgiana isn’t the only example of an fictional heir from the islands around this time period. Rhoda Swartz from Vanity Fair has Black and Jewish ancestry along with thousands of pounds. Island Queen has the space and interest to completely center the story of women like Georgiana and Rhoda position from the perspective of a Black writer and historian. 

Dorothy also reveals through her life experiences that interracial relationships with unequal power dynamics were often one of the only ways enslaved Black and biracial women could gain their freedom. In stark contrast to America during the late 18th Century, interracial relationships were never officially outlawed, but it was very rare for white men to officially marry women of color. More often, these women were mistresses and concubines, and any children from these relationships legally belonged to the father. Any relationship an enslaved woman undertook carried the risk of losing her children, with her past often used as a weapon of misogynoir, or simultaneous racist and sexist discrimination.  

One plot line unites Island Queen and The Long Song: both July and Dorothy lose a daughter to their white slave holding father who wanted to raise them in England. This trauma drives July to poverty while Dorothy had to wrestle the trauma alongside her mission to to fight to secure manumission papers for her children and also to develop a source of income that cannot be controlled by the men in her life. 

Read more

TV

How The Long Song Spotlights Ignored Black Caribbean History

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

Books

How Bridgerton Season 2 Can Improve On Season 1

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

At one point, she engages in survival sex work, then finds work as a housekeeper. Eventually, she is able to start her own housekeeping and domestic worker agency. She was well aware that some of her employees would choose to have relations with their bosses, but she made sure that she was not seen as a brothel owner for legal reasons. This is in stark contrast to some of the characters from Harlots on Hulu where brothel ownership or their sex worker status was an open secret.This is another area where Black women would suffer worse consequences for perceived immorality in society compared to white women. In fact, rumors of sex work follow her  Dorothy doesn’t intefere if her housekeepers decide to engage in sex work but she insists on mutual consent.  Riley does not apply any modern notions of slut-shaming or anti-sex-worker rhetoric. The reader understands that options for women’s employment outside of domestic service in these island colonies were severely limited. 

Dorothy’s narrative exposes both vulnerability in her relationships with her children and her significant others and also in her resolve to maintain her status. Far too often, Black women in historical fiction are reduced to tropes such as the “strong Black woman” that are not realistic to historical or modern readers. Or even worse, authors who completely erase the presence of Black women in the late Georgian and Regency Era by only featuring white women. 

The challenge in reading Island Queen for those uninitiated in Caribbean history of this era is to separate our modern historical knowledge from the reality Dorothy faces. Although Riley’s narrative does not make excuses for her questionable decisions, the narration makes clear that Dortothy is navigating a racist, sexist and classist society. Part of Dorothy’s later wealth comes from owning slaves. This was not a decision based on wanting to inflict cruelty, but due to the power dynamics in colonial society which punished those who refused to participate in the slave trade. Dorothy opposes slavery but also realize that open rebellion will cost her life or the lives of those around her. She is not isolated from the violence of slave rebellions and of the consequences of suppression. Riley in the Author’s Note says Kirwan freed all of her slaves in 1833 when slavery in Demerara was officially outlawed.

Dorothy’s narrative may have the background makings of a tragedy, but Riley reveals that her life was ultimately a success. Kirwan built her business and eventually reunited most members of her family. She even saw her children marry successfully and met several of her grandchildren. None of her children lived in poverty and she prevented all of them from working as slaves. While some may wish her various relationships could have created a permanent happy ever after, the real satisfaction comes from seeing Kirwan preserve her legacy for the next generation. Real Black historical stories such as Kirwan’s are incredibly rare in US and UK media as wholly fictional composite characters dominate existing period dramas and historical fiction novels. Island Queen, if enough people read it, could become a TV or movie adaptation that would give viewers the real truths of late 18th Century/Regency Era Caribbean history. The genre is overdue for a biography adaptation led by Black writers without the white gaze. 

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Island Queen will be available in bookstores July 6th. You can order the book here.

The post From Bridgerton to Sanditon—Putting Island Queen in a Period Drama Context appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[roc-thoughtblog]

Sense and Sensibility Readthrough Part 7.5

Or, where I was gonna start chapter 11, but needed to talk about why I thought Willoughby's observation was wrong.

And then, of course, I turned it into something really long, so that's taken up my reading session today. (I still haven't finished writing my thoughts on Narrative Voice either, because it has gotten loooong.)

Anyway.

"Brandon is just the kind of man," said Willoughby one day, when they were talking of him together, "whom everybody speaks well of, and nobody cares about; whom all are delighted to see, and nobody remembers to talk to."

Elinor is right, here, that Willoughby is demonstrably wrong in his assessment of Colonel Brandon's social activity. It's not merely the fact that Elinor herself has taken an interest in Brandon enough, but simply the fact that Willoughby's claim that nobody remembers to talk to Brandon, is predicated on Willoughby himself dismissing the existence/value of the Middletons in general. It's not true that Brandon is not spoken to, it's that he's not spoken to by an arbitrary class of people whom Willoughby thinks matters, such as Willoughby, Marianne and Elinor, which he himself is a part of.

> "That he is patronised by you," replied Willoughby, "is certainly in his favour; but as for the esteem of the others, it is a reproach in itself. Who would submit to the indignity of being approved by such a woman as Lady Middleton and Mrs. Jennings, that could command the indifference of anybody else?"

We know the Middletons speak to him, because Willoughby himself admits it, but we also know from his own words that they don't count, only Elinor does. In fact, he considers them a negative. Social noise. Detractors by association even, a bad or shallow crowd. I wouldn't be surprised is he considers servants here also. After all, Marianne has already said as much in her statements around being 27, and we're lead to believe they share perspective on most things. Were it to be that Colonel Brandon was comfortable and sociable with the Middletons' maids and butlers, I think Willoughby would still consider him an unfortunate case.

And importantly, we know that the Middletons don't restrict themselves to just speaking with him, they also do care about him and his problems. Elinor has referenced that Sir Middleton clearly knows about whatever has troubled his history, and does have an investment in seeing the man socialise. Mrs. Jennings, for all her misplaced enthusiasm, does have an interest in his romantic life or woes as it may be. Just because these cares are aligned with their own interests of socialising and matchmaking, doesn't invalidate them. (Can't say much for Lady Middleton but the narrative has ventured that Lady Middleton specifically is a little cold outside the topic of her own children.) And, you know, who knows what other friends Brandon may have. We aren't him. He was even a Colonel, he must at least have military mates.

We see the Middletons as very flawed individuals because the narrative has framed them this way. Sir Middleton is ignorant, Lady Middleton is self-absorbed and Mrs. Jennings is shallow; on this line we're also expected to dismiss their value as individuals and friends at least slightly, the same way Willoughby and Marianne do.

But really, we can turn that assessment straight around, on Marianne in particular. She can be considered narrow-minded and dismissive. Arrogant perhaps, maybe even cold to people who are unfamiliar to her. As self-absorbed as Lady Middleton, perhaps, or as shallow as Mrs. Jennings. She's not so different, but she gets a pass inside the story for being young and pretty, and out of story for being the protagonist. It's easier to dismiss her flaws because they are presented, but not highlighted. But, again, we can turn that back around for the Middletons! If perhaps Brandon were the protagonist, would Mrs. Jennings have the same cheerful warmth as Mama Middleton? Maybe Lady M does care, but is simply detached like Elinor? There is certainly nobody in the story as genuinely generous and well-meaningly sociable as Sir M.

How might the Dashwoods appear then? Elinor might be cold, disinteresting, even if she shows some care. Marianne, pretty but vain and shallow; friendly, but mayhap just as likely to ask somebody to sing a song she just heard, or to bulldoze somebody with her opinions. Mama Dashwood might even appear as self-absorbed in her own family as Lady M; she made a point not to socialise beyond walking distance.

Either way, my point being, they are not so different. Watch Willoughby or anyone, including herself, give Marianne the time of day if she were older or dumpier! Or a servant! Is my statement here to mean that noone will give her attention? No, actually. Plenty of nice, genuine, and flawed people will anyway. Just that Willoughby and Marianne themselves, and anybody with that particular flaw of pride, would not.

So, yeah! Willoughby's observation was incorrect, and very myopic really. Such is youth, except come on man, Marianne is 17 but you're my age. You should know better! Man's definitely coasted on some social privilege his whole life and it shows.

"I do not dislike him. I consider him, on the contrary, as a very respectable man, who has everybody's good word, and nobody's notice; who, has more money than he can spend, more time than he knows how to employ, and two new coats every year."

I think Willoughby genuinely considers himself to not dislike Brandon. After all, he doesn't hate him, and he knows he has no reason to dislike him. I think Willoughby is the type of person who genuinely considers themselves to not dislike anyone, because, again, he has no reason to. They don't matter to him in that way.

But I think his general attitude speaks for itself. After all, he does find Lady Middleton and Mrs. Jennings thoroughly disrespectable, even by association. He considers Brandon a respectable man, but only in the ways in which he considers Brandon to have potential to be amongst people like himself and Marianne. He otherwise has everything callous to say about the aspects of Brandon's personality and circumstance that keep him from joining what he perceives as a more lively and acceptable strata of sociability. He certainly takes no issue with Marianne's actual open dislike of the man. (Though, come to think of it, that may be at least in part Mrs. Jenning's fault for setting her on him through thoroughly inappropriate real-person-shipping.)

I do think Willoughby has a great, mostly unvoiced disdain for Brandon's crowd, and I think that disdain extends to Brandon himself for having just enough potential to escape it, but not doing so. I get flashbacks to cases like in To Kill a Mockingbird (and uh, real life...) where people don't think they're racist, but also quite obviously don't think anything of the black community, and also look down on anyone who associates with them, like the guy has to always pretend he's drunk, and Atticus Finch himself. Disliking other people is a bad thing that other people do! This case is probably nowhere near as serious, but it comes from similar places on basic levels. Exclusivity, tribalism, elitism, prejudice, ostracisation, from where deeper, deeper problems take root.

STATUS! That's a word that could have been useful to me but I haven't used.

Anyway, I take this perspective because it's not as though I wasn't there too at one point, though absolutely nowhere near the extent of Marianne or Willoughby. I certainly didn't hold those conscious opinions, but I still felt the pressure to define the boundaries of people I should befriend, and I did unjustifiably dismiss people who I thought were dismissable by arbitrary social standards I didn't even understand. And for what? After all, I was exactly the same type of arbitrarily dismissable person! I was a weird kid! Weird kids are not socially prestigious material!

It's strange how easily ingrained that arbitrary-social-boundary-drawing is. Seriously, where exactly are children getting it from? Answer’s probably obvious but I’m already going too long.

I think, it's a very important thing to unlearn. If not least because it's a source of very deep societal problems, it can also potentially be another thing that leads somebody into a situation of, "everybody speaks well of, and nobody cares about; whom all are delighted to see, and nobody remembers to talk to." Not because noone cares or wants to speak to them, but because they've arbitrarily blinded themselves to people who do! There will of course be Willoughbys and Mariannes who don't care about you and think little of you, but at the end of the day they're a minority, and in terms of social interaction they're really no different from every other Middleton who might genuinely care.

It's ironically a fate that will most likely to hit hardest a Marianne or Willoughby who falls from social grace. After all, if they lose whatever privilege of personality or appearance, wealth or youth that keeps them afloat, they'd have noone to care about them or to talk to! Just lots and lots of Middletons, or probably worse. And befriending those people would involve, gasp, lowering your social standards! Descending to the level of people whom you have implicitly thought to have been beneath you this whole time! And now you've become a Brandon, who is old, and most unfortunately boring, and who only interacts with the Middletons, who don't count.

What a terrible fate!

Final Thoughts: So yeah, I think Willoughby was wrong, and also I think he's more than a little disdainful. He's definitely the kind of guy who has always had the luxury of arbitrarily making his choice of social affiliation, and has never had to challenge his prejudices. If he thinks nobody wants to talk to Brandon, well, on top of not being correct, he's also quite satisfied to play his own role in Brandon's perceived ostracisation. Not saying you are obligated to socialise with people whom you don’t have any interest in, but man, there’s no reason to do ‘em like that.

Wait, I've definitely used both the words pride and prejudice in this tangent. Hmm.

Anyway, making friends, and especially connecting with them, can be hard, but Brandon at least seems to be doing fine. The kids just have a superiority complex.

[legacyridley]

— LYING IS THE MOST FUN A GIRL CAN HAVE WITHOUT TAKING HER CLOTHES OFF (BUT IT’S BETTER IF YOU DO!)

“I CAN’T RECALL a single amazing thing i have seen first-hand that i didn't immediately reference to a movie or tv show. a fucking commercial. you know the awful singsong of the blasé: seeeen it. i've literally seen it all, and the worst thing, the thing that makes me want to blow my brains out, is: the secondhand experience is always better. the image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can't anymore.”

                                                                                          — gillian flynn , gone girl

ooc —

hi there ! i’m shannon, i’m non-binary, my pronouns are she/they and i’m from the united kingdom. you can just call me the ceo of the unhinged rosamund pike cinematic universe, though. or keira knightley’s bitch, because i am, even if i decided against bringing her this time ( still might later ! ) i love morally corrupt women, i’d give my life for them, if one couldn’t tell by . . . uh. frankie. 

application —

[ rosamund pike | 40 | she/her | cis woman ] if it isn’t FRANCESCA RIDLEY ! you know, FRANKIE ! they’ve lived in monarda for TWO MONTHS. some people say that they’re CONSCIENTIOUS & CHARMING, but that they can also be PRIVILEGED & AVARICIOUS. last i heard, they were working FREELANCE as a BUSINESSWOMAN ! i’ve also heard the rumor that they’re a WITCH. if you’d ask me, they remind me of BEING BORN WITH THE METALLIC TANG OF A SILVER SPOON IN YOUR MOUTH ( JUST LIKE THE TASTE OF YOUR OLD-MONEY BLOOD ), “MANEATER” BY NELLY FURTADO PLAYING, SLIGHTLY MUFFLED, FROM INSIDE YOUR CAR, LIKE MUSIC FROM A PARTY BATHROOM, & THE NOTION OF A NEW SELF YOU’LL FIND BY THE SHORE ( BUT HOW’S THAT WORKING OUT FOR YOU, HONEY? DO YOU FEEL LOVED? ) ! i wonder what monarda’s got in store for them today!

BASICS —

NAME: francesca legacy ridley ( yes, really. )

AGE: forty ( b. 28 january, 1981 — knightsbridge, london, united kingdom. )

NICKNAMES: frankie , and frankie only.

GENDER: cis female.

ORIENTATIONS: bisexual / biromantic.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: divorced & single.

NATIONALITY: british-american ( dual. )

ETHNICITY: white ( english. )

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: english, french, german.

OCCUPATION: social media mogul & socialite. ex-sunglasses model. 

EDUCATION: institut le rosey & magdalen college, oxford.

PERSONALITY —

ASTROLOGICAL BIG THREE: aquarius sun, scorpio moon, scorpio rising.

MBTI TYPE: entj-a. ( the commander. )

HOGWARTS HOUSE: slytherin ( ravenclaw hatstall. )

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: eight with a seven wing ( the maverick. )

THEME SONG: maneater by nelly furtado.

FAVOURITE SONG: lay all your love on me by abba.

FAVOURITE ALBUM: super trouper by abba (1980)

PET PEEVES: people who don’t say ‘thank you’ when you open the door. back-seat drivers. chewing too loudly. tea that’s too milky. cambridge graduates. 

PHOBIAS: trypophobia. hemophobia ( blood ). arachnophobia. coulrophobia ( clowns. )

GUILTY PLEASURES: radio-friendly pop music. sunglasses, still. netflix-binge style sitcoms. kate winslet movies. true crime documentaries. st trinian’s (2007) dir. oliver parker.

ABOUT —

she’s deeply charming but also . . . it’s mostly theatre. ridleys know how to put on a show. ridleys know how to make friends. so meet frankie: #1 flirt, #1 liar, and perfectionist to the nth degree.

oxford graduate from a family of oxford graduates ; if you don’t get what that means for a person, substitute oxford with harvard and you might just about be getting there, right down to the annoying person — the sort of humdrum regular who grinds on francesca’s gears — who says ‘ oh, you went to harvard? say something smart! ’ growing up in a house in london that looks like it is out of a fairytale ( would be, if the city and all its bustle and noise weren’t on the doorstep ) is about as sweet as it sounds, and who could blame one for getting a touch . . . jealous ? well, other than frankie, a product of a private school in switzerland, an oxford college, and a trust fund, who could judge someone for breathing incorrectly, and says things such as ‘ jealousy is a disease, get well soon. ’

HOW DID SHE GET TO HER CURRENT POSITION ? . . .other than her parents’ money and a wealth of connections? well, frankie quickly came to understand something; that every time the older generations catch up to a social media platform, there’s a sudden vacuum as the younger generation work out where to go. and where the audience go is where the influence is, which gains you more connections, more wealth, more influence in places people would never even think to look. do you ever think about what information leaves your hands, and where, when you agree to the terms and conditions? you probably should. 

[ NOTE : when i imagine the platform, it’s something fairly twitter-esque, but without the people who use long hashtags and can’t figure out how it works. and more . . . aesthetic, somehow. like pinterest-level aesthetics. i’ll be working it out over time, but i’ve named it spectrum. yes, it’s named after the florence & the machine song, please don’t judge me. it started off as a university project á la the social network ( brilliant bloody movie ) that went onto a massive scale & became trendy and addictive. imagine if mark zuckerberg was a cool, bisexual, female ex-sunglasses model who once married the heir to grovesnor group, made him sign a considerable prenup and then divorced him when he cheated ( there was some full diana revenge dress content ) fifteen years ago, just before her old university idea went mainstream. he regrets it now, doesn’t he ? ]

imagine the kind of assholes who would give their child ‘ legacy ’ as a middle name to remind her of the constant pressure on her shoulders ? welcome to the ridleys, london-born mother & father to francesca ( golden child, with more issues than meets the eye, actually as much of a party girl as her sister but successful ) and roman ( motorbike-obsessed disgrace. ) they’re one of the oldest witch families out there, but — up until frankie & roman — they’ve been able to keep it quiet for their own benefit. 

so what does frankie DO with her magic? she always says she specialises in the tempting, though the addictive is perhaps more apt. want to feel so excited about something you’ll never be bored again? want the best trip of your life? frankie’s your gal. and does it have anything to do with how influential spectrum became & how much of an addictive presence she can be? . . . well, that’s for her to know & no one to find out. 

AND NOW, THE FINAL QUESTION: why the fuck is london’s premier rich bitch in where she’d consider nowhere, maine ? well, she’s on sort of a self-recreation trip right now. think about tahani in the good place when she tries to step out of the spotlight without actually doing it, except she’s thinking the sea air will cleanse her of a slight... unease coming with the approaching mid-life crisis and having to dye her greys out. 

but now she’s in a smaller place than sprawling london, living in that house you look at and think ‘fuck, i’d kill for that view,’ having to associate with people properly rather than being almost a concept of a person . . . what if people tear aside the mask and discover the serpentine nature and the moral rot that lies behind it ?

credits —

template !

[kyberled]

send me  ‘ hc ‘  + a word and i’ll write a headcanon about it regarding my character. || ACCEPTING

Anonymous asked:

Hc + Parents

Braig doesn’t know his biological parents. It’s probably best that he never does. He’s much better off with the Jedi. I’ll talk a bit about his biological father, his biological mother, and then some of his thoughts on the situation.

His biological father, Eadric Alden Claermoore, is a General in the Grand Army of the Republic, a rank he carried over from a lifetime spent in the Republic’s Navy. He made that rank his life after everything else fell away. The Claermoores were a military family. They always were. This goes all the way back to the Ruusan Reformations, but carried on in various ways since then. Government positions, naval positions, and now back in the Grand Army. Yes, it’s the naval branch; no, he’s not Force-sensitive. He is, however, exactly the sort of awful person you’d expect from someone who defines himself by his rank and his wealth and only barely - if ever - acknowledges the nepotism that went into it. 

He never wanted children. He figured he’d have to have one eventually, to carry on the name and all, but he never wanted one. Like most other things, it felt like a duty. An obligation, rather than a privilege. He was that sort of person. He also wasn’t too concerned about it, as his younger sister, Adarine, had children, but first-born this and patriarch-that and blah blah blah. ‘You know how it is’. Most people who know him thinks the war might be the only thing he ever loved, as it reaffirmed his status. That’s not entirely true. He loved his (ex) wife. Shiv brought out the best in him, people would say. Most who knew him had never seen him relax, let alone smile, until she came around. Shiv wanted kids. He agreed on one. He figured that was a good enough compromise. He also figured he wouldn’t necessarily have to be that involved with the more ‘difficult’ parts of parenting. Read: The actual parenting part. He figured he’d pick up extra duties to make up for the ‘loss of income’ (as if he needed it) while Shiv stayed home with their baby. 

It probably could’ve worked out, if their kid wasn't born Force-sensitive. But he was. So, of course, the Jedi took interest. Shiv said no, Eadric said yes. The Jedi figured they’d just keep an eye on them and try to educate the new parents on what the Force meant for their son. Just so they could fully think over their options and decide what was best. Then Shiv went to provide aid to a planet in the Outer Rim. When she didn’t come back, she was declared KIA. Eadric, quite rightly, decided he can’t raise a child by himself. Yes, he could have asked family or friends to help. Yes,he could have left the baby with the nanny droid he owned that was already looking after it. He could have. 

He didn’t. 

In his defense, he was trying to think of the long-term consequences. Nanny droids don’t work forever. And the boy was Force-sensitive; he needed to be trained by people who know what they’re doing. And, logically, he’s right. The Force is too dangerous - and draws too many dangerous people - for a lack of training to be even remotely safe. And - not that Eadric cares anymore - Braig is legitimately happy with the Jedi. So it really is the best choice. Of course, Braig was actually far too young to be given to the Order at the time. From what I can tell, kids are usually passed on to the Jedi at over a year, maybe even three. Braig wasn’t yet a year old. The young knight who’d been sent to do a wellness check/update hadn’t been prepared to take a baby. Eadric, in essence, handed him Braig and then locked the door and went back to work. He considered it like ripping off a bandage. The Jedi saw this as a cause to Not Panic, But Get Very Concerned At A Rather Fast Pace. He eventually just figured he had no choice but to take the baby back to the Temple and ask for advice. 

When Shiv showed up, not dead and very mad about why her baby was gone, things went sour fast. To make a long story short, they’re divorced now, and he hasn’t seen her in over a decade. He tried to explain his thought process to her. Tried to make a case for himself, and why this was best. She didn’t agree. It was a nasty argument. Eadric never really got over it. He never really got over her. Over the years, his understanding of the situation shifted from ‘this never would have happened if I’d kept our child from the Jedi’ to ‘this never would have happened if he hadn’t been born Force sensitive’ to ‘this never would have happened if he hadn’t been born’. Eadric lives alone now in the fancy surface-level Coruscant residence that’s run in the family for generations. The sort of place money can technically buy, but you won’t ever have enough money. He exists as living proof to the old adage, ‘wealth cannot buy happiness’. He’s a bitter, angry old man who’s devoted himself to the militaristic ideals that the Claremoores have lived by - regardless of who calls the shots. When the Republic becomes the Empire, he stays as an Imperial officer. He doesn’t see a problem with it. The strong prevail.

End of discussion. 

Then there’s Braig’s mother. Dr. Shiv Kiera Whelan is not a product of money and breeding, like her ex husband was. She’d come from the mid-levels of Coruscant. Not the glitterati, but high enough in the city to see what she might one day be able to achieve. Her family was loving and close, even if they were stretched thin financially. She was a middle child. She had an older brother named Cor, an adopted sibling the same age as her named Shina (shee-nah), and two younger sisters named Reni and Tel. They lived in a somewhat cramped apartment with their parents (Braig’s grandparents), Olan and Ama Whelan. They worked in factories across the street from each other, and met by chance - their love story bloomed over the course of many shared lunch breaks and continued throughout their marriage. Theirs was a hard life, and they did what they could to give their children better, while still making sure they knew the truths of the world. Shiv was the first of her siblings to attend higher education. She decided on medicine when she was young; you see a lot of need for it in the mid to lower levels. It’s what she felt was her calling. So she studied hard, saved up, worked herself to the bone. Loans and scholarships became her best friend (aside from her siblings). 

On a planet of trillions, medical care is always in high demand. Shiv took to it like a duck to water, finding her place among medical droids and scanners and sutures as if she’d always been there. She expanded her horizons by not only taking what her colleagues often deemed ‘charity cases’, but also offering medical aid off-world to military operations. That’s how she met her future (ex) husband, actually. A naval scrape that went badly but could have gone worse. His family opposed the marriage, hers didn’t care as long as they were happy. And, for a while, they were happy. It could have worked out great. They’d discussed kids, come to their agreement, and Shiv was excited to be a mother. She’d always liked kids, and they were well off enough that she could take some time off to be at home with the baby, and have nurse droids to help. It would be simple. 

It should have been simple. 

If it was, we wouldn’t be here. Shiv is like her son in more than looks; his self-sacrificing tendencies are both nature and nurture. People needed help. A skirmish between warring factions in the Outer Rim, it happened all the time. Shiv had plenty of experience doing field work on planets where that was often the best they got, and, much as she loved her baby, she’d gotten a bit stir crazy. It’d be fine, she’d go out for a week or two, give people some help, stretch her legs, and come back before the nurse droids even needed to be recharged. Unfortunately, bad intel comes for us all, eventually. It wasn’t just a skirmish between local factions. It was a fight between spice cartels. Nobody was entirely sure which cartels, once the dust settled. Some said the Black Sun, some said the Pikes. All reports said the medic camp was wiped out. Shiv along with it. 

Now, of course, Shiv wasn’t dead. She was in very bad shape, yes, but not dead. She got lucky. See, when you get a reputation for giving help to those who can’t afford it, they remember. A lot of those people gather at the Outer Rim, and a lot of people talk. A doctor that helps anyone, regardless of credits, is a good thing to have around, so Shiv got rescued by some of the ‘charity cases’ she’d taken over her life. It was a while before she was fully lucid, a while later that she was able to make contact and get back to Coruscant. By the time she got there, her son was gone. 

The real tragedy is that, if given enough time, she probably would have agreed to it, herself. Given time to think it over, given more conversations with the Jedi to learn more about them, about what the Force meant for her son, given the extra years she was supposed to have to come to terms, she probably would’ve agreed that the proper training was necessary for him. She didn’t get any of that. 

She just came home and he was gone. 

As you can imagine, this led to a terrible argument between herself and her husband. Eadric tried to justify his decision by saying he thought she was dead, and, either way, he’d been looking out for their son’s best interest. He was where he should be. Shiv, who was already dealing with one major trauma and frankly didn’t have time for another, was furious that he’d given her baby to ‘a cult’ (despite the Jedi not being anything of the sort). 

If you were to talk to Shiv now, she’d tell you she was divorced, though there was never any formal proceedings; Eadric just doesn’t talk about his personal life. Whereas Eadric will tell you he never had any children if you ask, Shiv will talk about who she hoped her son would be, and the injustices that face him now in the life he must live. Their opinions have grown to differ so much that they’re on different sides of the war, as well. Eadric stayed loyal to the Republic, and continues to serve the Grand Army. Shiv felt as though the loss of her son opened her eyes to the Republic’s corruption, and as such, she’s since offered her allegiance and her medical prowess to the Separatists. She hasn’t been to Coruscant in years, and the two of them - Eadric and Shiv - haven’t had any contact with each other in even longer. 

It should go without saying that Braig doesn’t know his biological parents. He doesn’t particularly want to, either. He knows, from records, where he’s from, and he also knows he came to the Temple far younger than he should have. As far as he’s concerned, there are a few potential reasons for this:

The first is that his parents were unable to care for a child. Given that he knows they were from the upper levels, and ergo well-off, he finds this unlikely. The second is that something happened to them, they had no relatives able to seize custody, and the Jedi took him in rather than having him float around the system for a few years. This is unlikely, as the Jedi keep tabs on prospective families, but it’s possible, and, if it is the case, it’s not worth looking into. And the last option he could think of is that they just didn’t want a kid, and again, that doesn’t merit looking into. He knows who his family is - who raised him, who cared for him, who taught him, who stood by and continues to stand by him every day of his life. That matters much more to him than blood.