#its fine they are siblings . i know their future . i am the succession understander .

[homingpigecns]

i get the ending of succession bcos i have siblings everyone else doesnt get it but i have siblings and i really really understand how it is to have them and the whole meaning of the whole show which is siblings . dont worry !!!!!!! its fine with them & it will be ok & they love each other . they are siblings ,

[dhundertale]

*You stumble upon an ancient diary.

Dear Diary,

I have made a scientific breakthrough. Unlike previously thought, I have discovered a way to successfully remove a soul from a living monster. This knowledge alone proves that soul-transplants are medically possible!

However, I am unsure what to do with this ground-breaking discovery. I will surely be punished if the King and Queen discovered I have been experimenting with live monsters. So who am I to tell of this amazing medical procedure, that could sure save lives?

I can’t understand why our leaders are so up-and-arms about it. Every monster I have experimented on was recorded signing a consent sheet. A consenting monster giving their body and possibly their life for freedom shouldn’t be frowned upon. Why, they should be treated as heroic sacrifices for our future! Why am I the only one who sees that?

---

Dear Diary,

My son has been troubling me. He can’t seem to make any of my expectations for him a reality. I don’t understand where he is finding difficulty in my requests.

I have never had this trouble with any of my previous children. I feel there may be something defected in his soul that is influencing these complications. I shall take him to a doctor this week to get whatever this is checked out.

---

Dear Diary, I did something today that makes me question my morals.

I was curious to see if a soul could survive in an inanimate object. The answer, in shortness, is yes. However, it seems the owner of the soul is incapable of moving their newfound body. I wish to continue testing this hypothesis, but it feels wrong to leave a person trapped inside of an object, incapable of expressing displeasure or free will.

Am I overreacting? Should this not bother me so much? These monsters volunteered their souls to me. Don’t I have the right to do as I please with them, then?

Whatever. I will not make any progress if I have moral debates every time I do something somewhat questionable. Its not as if I am planning on leaving them there anyways. It’s a temporary prison at most.

---

Dear Diary,

The doctors are saying Michael’s soul is fine. I don’t believe them. He acts nothing like my other children and has been doing terribly in development. I feel as though they missed something. Should I examine him myself?

---

Dear Diary,

Today, Mrs Holiday came to visit. She asked how things were going with Rudy. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the tests I’ve run on him haven’t been successful. I lied and said the tests are inconclusive so far, but the conclusion is quite clear. He is going to die.

She told me to update her if I find anything new. I already know I won’t.

---

Dear Diary, 

Today, Michael got into a fight with a kid at school. I am highly disturbed! He is only six years old! Where has he developed such a violent nature? I have punished him and am considering talking to his teachers about this. I need to know if they’ve seen him behave oddly in school.

---

Dear Diary,

I discovered that larger objects can be controlled by transferred souls. Small objects leave the soul immobilized, but large objects seem to have enough physical mass to be controlled. I am attempting to make a doll that has monster-like structures. Perhaps even human-like structures as well. It may take a while to make artificial bones and muscle, but I will do my best.

I am curious if it is possible to talk while inside an inanimate object. Will it be difficult to make an artificial throat? Perhaps, but I am determined to create one regardless.

---

Dear Diary,

I have decided to pull Michael from school. The teachers are not helpful and describe him as a troubled child. I am getting a personal tutor for him. Besides, Odalia and Ritz insist that they don’t get to spend enough time with him. He seems to be more open with his siblings than with me, so perhaps being around them will improve his behavior.

---

Dear Diary,

Wingdings is becoming troublesome for my research. He is onto me, I can tell. The way he looks at me proves it. If he discovers my secret research, he may report it to the King and Queen. I need to find a way to gain his trust.

---

Dear Diary,

I managed to successfully create an artificial structure similar to a throat, including vocal cords. I installed it into one of my patients dolls, and she began speaking. I am ecstatic! This could change the future of monsters! It could provide the option of a new body for disabled monsters or transgender monsters!

Now I need to find a way to tell the King and Queen without being arrested or charged for experimenting behind their backs.

---

Dear Diary,

My son ATTACKED his tutor today! She had to be hospitalized from it. I am absolutely disturbed with his violent nature.

I tried bringing him to the doctor to be re-examined, but they still insist there is nothing wrong with him. I call bullshit! If they wont figure it out, I’ll do it myself.

---

Dear Diary,

I told my kids that Michael won’t be home for a while because he is sick. Its only a half-lie; he HAS to be sick to be acting like this.

He keeps insisting that hes fine. That he’s sorry. That he just isn’t understood by anyone and that he just wishes I were around more. That my work took away my love for him.

What a load of nonsense.

---

Dear Diary,

I extracted Michael’s soul. His body is being preserved by the DT I managed to snatch from Wingdings. I don’t know how he managed to get his hands on that much anyways. Perhaps he noticed some went missing, and that’s why he has been onto me?

Its too late to take back what Ive stolen from him now. The DT has been the only way Ive been able to keep these bodies intact while their souls are transplanted elsewhere.

I will be examining his soul in hopes to find whatever is defective with it.

---

Dear Diary,

Michael’s soul cracked. I cannot understand how that happened. None of the other souls I have extracted have cracked. A cracked soul is supposed to be a signifier of something damaging, but there hasn’t been anything happening to him besides my treatment. And I have been extremely gentle!  

---

Dear Diary,

Wingdings won’t stop bothering me. It is getting harder and harder to share a lab with him. I have found him snooping in my office several times now. It is a miracle he hasn’t found any of my patients’ souls or bodies! God, what an annoying man…

---

Dear Diary,

Michael’s soul won’t return into his body. It seems that the body no longer recognizes it, likely due to it being damaged now, unlike how it was before extraction. I am still unsure of how the cracking happened, and now I am in this terrible predicament.

If I cannot return my son’s soul into his body, does that mean I should make a new body for him? Wouldn’t that cause even more suspicion? How would I make a believable lie as to how or why he got a new body?

---

Dear Diary,

Michael’s soul keeps cracking. I have decided to install it inside of one of my dolls. Hopefully that will make it stop.

---

Dear Diary,

Why the hell did I think it was a good idea to put him inside of a doll with a throat? He wouldn’t stop screaming. He was making so much ruckus, that he almost got me caught. I had to inject a sedative into his soul.

---

Dear Diary,

I considered removing the artificial throat, but it seems his soul has accepted this doll as his new body. Removing it may crack his soul further, and I am afraid of killing him. I tried keeping him on sedatives, but he squirms in his sleep, and that makes it harder for me to direct my magic into his soul.

So, I decided to use immobilizing drugs instead. Hes awake, but he can’t fight me anymore. I never would have had kids if I had known they’d cause so much trouble. I have been suffering a migraine that hasn’t gone away ever since I began Michael’s impromptu medical care.

---

Dear Diary,

Forget it. My healing magic is doing nothing for the damage, and I cant move his soul anymore without risking breaking it.

On top of that, Rudy just died. I had to drop the news on his family today. And my other children won’t stop bothering me, asking me where their brother is and how he is doing.

I need some drinks.

---

Dear Diary,

I fucked up SO bad while I was drunk last night! I told my kids that Michael died! Not just that, but I told my lab partners that too! God, what am I supposed to do!?

The worst part is that this morning, I found out his body is dust! His soul rejecting it must have been the final straw. The DT just wasn’t enough for a body with no magical substance.

I have ruined everything. My son is now trapped inside of a doll with a cracked soul, and everyone who knew him thinks he’s dead now. AND I have the dust to “prove” it!

What do I do??

---

Dear Diary

I am a terrible mother. The worst mother. We’re having his funeral today.

---

Dear Diary,

Maybe this is the alcohol speaking, but I don’t care anymore.

I am going to take advantage of this terrible situation. I am going to experiment on his soul. I took his doll home, because experimenting on him at the labs is too risky,

I can’t really view him as my son anymore. He looks nothing like my child. Just like a big, artificial human. And so long as I keep him drugged up, he doesn’t sound like his alive either.

That’s funny, isn’t it?  

Probably not.

---

Dear Diary,

I let my other experiments patients go. They are back in their original bodies, and they have signed a contract of secrecy. Most of them are war veterans that hate the king and queen anyway, especially after they decided to adopt that human child.

Its as if they forgot what humans have done to us during the war.  

---

Dear Diary,

Ritz found him. I lied and said that it’s a comfort doll, after losing my son. Ritz told Odalia and Barwick, and now they want to have turns with the “comfort doll” too. I’m too tired to decline anyways. They can have him when I’m not running tests.

---

Dear Diary,

Odalia altered his appearance. She’s always been into sewing, so I guess she wanted him to look more like us.

Why don’t I feel anything about that? Its like my soul has lost all sense of empathy.

---

Dear Diary,

Wingdings has been coming to my house. He expresses worry for me. I can’t tell if its real or not. I can’t tell if anything around me is real anymore. Maybe I should get my soul checked out.

---

Dear Diary,

He knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows h

**************************************

*…The rest of the pages are empty. It is unclear how far apart each entry was, since they were not written with dates.

*You decide to put the old diary back with the doll you found it by.

*...You touch the child-sized doll. It is as large as a human toddler. The glassy eyes seem to stare straight into your soul.

*You cautiously call the name “Michael” repeatedly, as if to test for a response…

*But nobody came.

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 15

(Beta version)

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 3,100

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Updated regularly; will have about 20 parts total.

Violence at the final paragraph in this chapter.

---

The flames coiled around every fiber of her being. She was completely consumed in the blue blaze as each lick seared into her. It was as if her skin was absorbing them, and she felt them roaring through her veins, engulfing her in agony. She screamed, but her voice was completely drowned out by the sound of the fire. One moment was torture; two moments became hell.

Then, as quickly as it had immersed her, the fire dissipated, withering to down to tiny blue embers. Dynamene staggered to her feet in the now-empty cauldron. The pain was not only gone, but it was as if she had never suffered it in the first place. Her skin felt abuzz with new energy.

The witch beamed at her. "Come on out, dear. Take a look at your new self." She pulled a dusty full-length mirror out from behind one armoire.

Dynamene carefully stepped out and stood before the glass. Someone that she'd known only in her dreams stared back at her.

She was still herself, but in the best way; she had no other words to describe it. Her skin was radiant and free of any tiny flaw, though her speckling of freckles remained. The long locks of dark hair that flowed down past her shoulders were busy rearranging themselves back into smooth braids; not a split-end or loose hair to be found. Her curved eyelashes feathered out like the fine hairs of a paintbrush. And the contours of her body had changed as well - her waist slightly tucked in, and the burgeoning curves above and below more defined.

"This is... I'm beautiful," she whispered in awe. She wiped away the dust to get a better look at herself. Only in her fantasies had she ever looked this way... So familiar, and yet so perfect.

"Aren't you? So gorgeous, but still yourself. Subtle, intricate magic. Of course, before you get carried away..." The witch held up a finger. "This effect does not last forever. You have 24 hours before it begins to fade; after that, it will be completely gone within minutes."

Dynamene frowned in disappointment, gently tugging at one of her braids. "I see..."

"You'll have to work quickly, then. Use all of your resources." The witch chuckled at a sudden thought. "A little womanly charm will work well to your advantage. Oh, to see the look on his face..."

Dynamene finally pulled her gaze away from the mirror. "Womanly charm?"

"Flatter him, kiss him, seduce him, anything goes. Surely your sisters taught you about the weakness of men?" The witch jeered. "Whatever you do, make sure you do it within the time limit. I don't offer refunds if you can't manage the success on your own."

Although the thought of batting her eyelashes at Poseidon made her cringe, Dynamene pursed her lips with a steadfast gaze. Whatever it takes, right? "I understand. With your spell, I won't fail. I... I'll think of something." Could I really seduce him, though? That's...

"Good, good." The witch opened a closet and threw a rumpled chiton at her. "Now, here's something to cover yourself up. Those flames are merciless against fabric."

Dynamene gasped as she realized that she was completely bare, quickly clutching the offered chiton to her front. At least the bracelet remained on her wrist, if nothing else.

"You're good to go now. And once the wedding date is set, do remember to drop me a line. I love networking." The witch said something unintelligible, and the mirror before Dynamene had its glass replaced with a swirling portal. "Chop, chop."

Dynamene clumsily tied the straps of the chiton and straightened herself out. Before she went through the portal, she looked back at the witch with her gleaming white eyes and hag-like grin. "Thank you for all you've done. I won't forget it."

"I know, dearest," the witch cooed, watching intently as Dynamene disappeared through. "I know."

---

The portal had sent her several feet before the surface of the water in a familiar backdrop. The colorful corals and schools of fish were a welcome sight, indeed, after her adventure. She was just off the beach of Poseidon's palace.

Grinning with newfound anticipation, she broke through the surface and let the sun shine on her face. Things will go my way now.

Too impatient to swim, she hoisted herself up on the water's edge and ran across the gently sloping waves. The palace gleamed brilliant white in the late afternoon sunlight, a magnificent sight she'd never thought she'd so long to see. Fish began to gather under the surface of her steps, keeping pace with her sprint. They realized who she was, and she heard their voices echo up from under the water. The Nereid has been found; Dynamene has returned!

She felt a familiar presence surfacing fast ahead in response to the voice of the sea creatures, and she sprinted faster. That presence could only belong to...

Then he was before her, outfit dripping with seawater, his blond hair almost white in the light. "Dynamene?" His ever-so-stoic face was finally made mobile with surprise.

"Poseidon!" Dynamene cried, her steps splashing in the shallow waves. "Poseidon!"

He stared at her in disbelief, barely lifting his arms in time to catch her as she threw herself against him. He was so strong, the force didn't budge him an inch, but he leaned back a bit so it didn't feel like she was colliding with a statue.

"I'm so glad to see you again," she cried, burying her face against his chest. "I... I'm so glad to see you! It's really you!" I didn't know if I would get to be this close to you again.

His hands gripped her against him for a moment, as if he'd momentarily lost the battle against his emotions, before he moved her back to look at her face. "Do you know the mayhem you've caused?"

Her heart sank as she took in the rage in his eyes. He was upset enough that there was a certain tension about his lips, almost pursed together. "I'm sorry, my lord. I have no excuse. I let my emotions get the better of me, and..." She hung her head guiltily. "I know I've caused all of you pain and worry. It won't happen again."

"Worry?" He scoffed. "Don't think so highly of yourself." But his grip on her shoulders fell away, and one of his arms moved to wrap around her shoulders. "You feel colder than usual. Are you hurt?"

"I feel cold?" Dynamene blushed. "No, I'm fine, really!" She remembered the witch's advice, and braced herself. "I... I was fine the moment I saw you again." She resisted the strong urge to cover her face with her trembling hands.

He unexpectedly took her waist in his firm hands and lifted her up. Dynamene gasped in surprise. "Poseidon?"

Poseidon stared up at her with a scrutinizing gaze. He looked her over from head to toe, searching for anything out of place. "Do not ever do something like that again. Are we clear?"

Dynamene was surprised her heartbeat wasn't roaring in her ears. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out; not even a squeak. Can he tell that something's changed?

 "I'm glad we have an understanding." He set her down, keeping an arm about her shoulders. "There's no reason to keep standing out here. Come along; we should return to the palace."

Dynamene bit her lower lip in joy as they stepped onto the beach together. Her sisters, who had begun to clamor around in confusion, broke into screams when they saw her.

"Dynamene! Dynamene!" They rushed around the two of them as the foam swept about their feet.

"Take her to her room and tend to her," Poseidon said shortly, almost pushing her into the arms of her sisters. "I must go. Word must be sent to Nereus and Doris immediately."

Dynamene turned back desperately to look at him as he swept away. "My lord-!"

"We will speak later, Dynamene," he said with a tone of finality. Dynamene bit her lower lip in confusion before allowing her siblings to rush her away into the palace.

Once he was out of earshot, the scolding began. "How could you do such a thing, Dynamene?!" One familiar voice accused.

Dynamene jumped. "Actaea?"

Actaea pushed to the forefront of the throng, her face lined with indignation. "Running off like that! How could you?! Ianeira was beside herself with despair!"

"I'm sorry, I really am!" Dynamene pleaded. "I just-" She froze momentarily. I can't tell them about where I went or what I did. I'll have to pretend that I was just fuming around the ocean somewhere. "I needed space to clear my head and consider what she'd said."

"Ah, yes. You were eavesdropping and overheard her discussion with Mother, I understand." Actaea shook her head in disbelief as she pulled Dynamene into her room away from the others and closed the door. "Which, as I was told, is not the first time you've done such a thing. Silly girl. Why?"

"I was letting my feelings get ahead of me." The words slipped out easier than Dynamene would've guessed. "But I took my time to stew, and I feel a lot better. Ianeira was right about what she said."

"Said... About what?" Actaea prodded her on, crossing her arms impatiently.

"What she said about pursuing Poseidon. That it's a horrible idea. And I came to the realization that she was right." The bare lie came off her tongue like hot butter. "I don't want to end up like Adamas. And who wants to put up with Poseidon's icy demeanor for eternity?"

Actaea sighed, her tense shoulders relaxing just a titch. "Well... If anyone was going to get through to you, I suppose Ianeira would. The position of eldest has always suited her." Actaea pushed back a lock of Dynamene's hair with a curious look. "How did you keep your hair so smooth this whole time?"

Dynamene smiled coolly. "I found a comb in a shipwreck." Maybe I can get used to these lies.

Actaea shook her head again, this time in amazement. "Taking care of your hair, too? And I could've sworn you were shorter before. Has our youngest sister become a true woman overnight?" She teased Dynamene playfully.

Dynamene exhaled with silent relief. "At long last," she replied, shrugging casually.

---

The rest of her sisters at the palace took turns throughout the day alternatively yelling at and fussing over her. Actaea was the only one who had returned from home to join the search here. The rest of the sisters, along with their parents, given the situation, would be coming to Poseidon's palace as soon as they received word that Dynamene was there. Upon learning this, she couldn't help but squirm. It was one thing to deceive her sisters, but her parents would be an entirely different matter. Once the message had reached them, they would surely be on their way at once. Given the timeframe, she would only have until morning to get Poseidon to make a decision.

She preened nervously in front of her mirror. She was beautiful now, yes, but would it be enough? Maybe he'll finally see me as a woman, instead of his childish servant, she prayed. Poseidon hadn't come to speak with her since they'd reunited on the shore. Dynamene was growing impatient. Perhaps she should look for him herself.

A knock sounded on her door, and she jumped up in a haste to open it. Her sisters usually didn't knock; only Poseidon did.

"I hear you've had quite the day," he said stoically as soon as she opened the door.

"Yes, to say the least," she smiled tentatively. "I suppose I'll have even more lectures to hear once the rest of my family comes."

"Come with me." He began to walk back down the hall. "You're going to join me for dinner."

She gasped before she could stop herself. Had the magic had such an effect on him already?! Regathering her wits, she rushed after him. "Dinner? That's... unexpected."

He looked down at her. "Do you find fault with it? I thought it might give us some privacy to speak in confidence."

This really is a dream come true! Dynamene didn't even bother trying to hold back her bright grin. "Oh, of course not, my lord. I'm happy with whatever you decide."

Poseidon blinked for a moment, then faced forward once more. "As expected."

She rose one eyebrow. As enigmatic as ever, but what do I care? A meal with just us two is the opportunity I need. She closed her eyes for a moment. I hope I don't mess this up. With the spell on my side, hopefully everything will work out.

---

In Poseidon's sitting room, the small table was made up for two people. Dynamene took her seat across from him, wiping her sweaty palms on her peplos as subtly as she could.

The moonlight that entered from the open balcony across the way highlighted the angles and curves of Poseidon's muscular body, and she suppressed a sigh of longing. It was easy to see how the rest of the pantheon held him in such high regard, despite their fear. Her eyes trailed up his bare chest to his face. Such cold eyes underneath those long eyelashes... I want them to thaw for me. I'm so close. Who else but her could get so close to him this way? This side of Poseidon was one only she knew.

"Let's get the trivial matters out of the way first. Your parents are of no concern," he began bluntly. "I hold superiority over them. You will not leave this palace without my permission, so their feelings hold no weight."

Dynamene stared in shock. She hadn't expected him to lead off with something so... Then again, it was in character for him. "I see." It was strange to hear her parents, so respected by the rest of the gods, labelled as insignificant.

"My opinion is the only one that matters." He rested his cheek on one hand, examining her face. "But things have gone unsaid for long enough, and it's causing more trouble than I care for." His gaze sharpened. "Tell me, then, Dynamene. What is that you feel?"

Dynamene stiffened, her eyes wide like the moon. "What I feel?! Um..."

"I know why you fled your parents' palace. I know why they brought you there to begin with." His gaze slid to the side in annoyance. "It was a futile gesture. Clearly they failed to stop whatever it was that they found so reproachable."

Her hands began to shake again where they were folded in her lap. "Poseidon..." She felt detached from herself, as if she was watching from some place far away. "I want..." Don't forget the witch's words.

Dynamene mashed her lips for one brief moment before telling him what he expected to hear. "I want to be your consort."

It was as if time had stopped. His gaze snapped back to her. Was it just her imagination, or had his eyes grown wider? Perhaps he hadn't expected to hear this after all.

Strengthened by the hint of vulnerability, she pressed her point once more. "I want to be your consort, Poseidon. I... I want to stay by your side always. I don't care what my family wants. They only desire to drive us apart, anyway. I can't bear the thought of that. Please..."

His free hand on the table curled into a fist. His voice remained cool as he answered. "You wish to be my consort? Do you understand what you're asking?"

Dynamene felt her body growing weak under his stare. "Yes, I do. I... I have fallen in love with you." Her voice cracked as her lips trembled. "I love you. I don't want to be away from you ever again. I love you so much."

The air around them hung heavy with her raw confession, yet her body felt strangely lightened. I finally said what I needed to. At long last, I was able to tell him. I can't believe it. Her cheeks shimmered with hopeful tears. "Please consider it, my lord-"

The table cracked in half under Poseidon's fist, and she gasped in shock. The stone pieces fell to the ground with a loud boom. She looked up at his face, and for the first time since she'd met him, she truly felt terror.

His face was stone, his eyes devoid of all feeling except for rage. He stood slowly, his muscles rippling with the threat of his anger. "You sit there, you miserable bottom feeder, and tell me those words with such feigned sincerity. What a well-done act."

Dynamene's lips moved fast, but no sound came out.

"You enter my estate, clinging to my arm, reeking of foul magic. And now you sit, comfortable as can be, wearing her face, and telling me these lies. What a skilled seductress," sarcasm dripped from his words. Malice emanated from his body, and she clamored out of her chair.

"I... My lord, I don't know what you're talking about..." She squeaked.

He stalked towards her, and she rushed away to the other corner of the room, cowering. I don't understand! What did I do?!

"You have no pulse, you waste of false flesh," he hissed, grabbing her wrist roughly.

Tears fell hot and fast down her face as she pleaded with him, shaking. "I don't understand, I don't-"

Then it hit her. The deal she had made with the witch...

Something the size of a fist.

She took my heart.

The trident in its wall rack began to glow an angry blue, and Poseidon held out his hand. The trident was pulled by some unseen force into his grip, and he held it level with her chest with no hesitation.

"I'll ask once, then you can plead with the gatekeepers of Helheim," he said softly. There was no warmth from him, no recognition; only lethal intent. "Where is Dynamene?"

The silence ringing in her ears in place of her heartbeat made Dynamene's final moments all the more terrifying. "I am Dynamene! Poseidon, please-"

"Enough lies," he hissed. It was at that moment that Dynamene truly understood the terror Poseidon brought wherever he went. The hatred in his eyes... Was this what Adamas had seen in his final moments? Was this disbelief the same, the disbelief that he would hurt her after feigning care for so long?

She stared at him in anguish. I loved you.

The trident plunged into her chest.

---

Author’s Notes: Violence will continue a bit into the next chapter; I will give a warning then too so you know when to skip ahead.

Hush, hush, darling,

Hush, hush,

Don't tell me cause it hurts.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

from an anon, about parents and school

(it's just long, that's why it's under a break XD)

here's my proposition: make parents understand that not every child should conform to whatever traditional career paths that exist. as an asian, i could feel the pressure to take science like a fucking boulder on my body. i have to rant a bit.

i am the younger sibling, my brother is two years elder to me. i was never instilled any curiosity in anything science related, i was kinda left all by myself lol. my brother tho, maybe because he was older or because he was a guy (yeah LMFAO), was encouraged AND involved in a LOT of coding, mechanix (its a construct-ur-own-stuff thing).

i guess i never really noticed until i was leaving middle school, that i was not as smart as him, and would probably never be. but i had other strengths he didnt have. i love writing, im pretty good at it. i am analytical and subejctive, i like thinking and making conclusions about things. i mean i guess i've figured out what i could be better at, right? but the problem?

its that my parents dont see it. its as if they dont know me or they DO know me and are just forcing the things they need onto me. it feels selfish of them to completely forgo my actual strengths. like YES OK i UNDERSTAND i can never be as smart as my brother, but u dont have to pretend like i can. because pretending that i can achieve whatever he has, is just going to affect YOU. because i have accepted long ago that some things arent for me.

they think i dont want to put effort into anything i do. that im lazy and want the easy way out. god, every time they say this i want to honestly show them that its the things IM interested in, where i put in the work. its so belittling.

ive written articles abt bts, their music, about how carl jungs theory of archetypes and i occasionally ask a lot of questions about the world to you (hi lol). i just dont get why they want me to waste energy on something im clearly uninterested in.

short answer, point to BTS and say, "They're Asian, they make tons of money. Leave me alone."

just kidding XD

If I'm being serious, I don't think they will change their mind. They will continue to force their ideals onto you, because they believe in certain career paths had assured success and that is what they are after. They either want you to make a certain amount of money, have a certain status in life, or simply know that you can obtain a stable job. To be honest, these are not really traditional career paths at all if you think about it. Becoming a doctor takes many, many years and it is hard ass work. Parents just make it seem as if these are the only jobs available to you, even if you know it's not true.

Men vs women in Asian countries, well, I feel everyone knows this, but many Asian parents born in their respective countries put more effort into their sons than daughters. Firstborn son? He probably walks on water to them XD

I understand what you mean when you say your parents do not understand. This might sound egotistical (it does now that I'm writing it, I am very sorry) but I was the one in my family who got the best grades. None of my siblings got better grades than me (basically I had a 4.0 from middle school to university), and do you think with all that I would be immune?

Nope.

I am good at the sciences and I am good at the humanities as well. I had an interest in reading, writing, and drawing. Reading fiction, I could pass it off to educate myself. Writing? I could pass it off as something for school. But drawing?

Woo, boy.

This was a constant fight. I do not back down (a rebel, wcyd) and I drew and it would get ripped apart. I drew and it would get torn up and thrown away. I drew and and would be beaten, yelled at, constantly belittled for my interest in it even though I was good at the sciences and math. To my mom (my dad doesn't count, he had zero interest in parenting) - if she did not think it was going to make money in the future, it was useless. If I could not spin it into profit, I should not be doing it (very fun childhood I had, yes). The most ironic thing is, after I became an adult, she suggested I start drawing again and sell it to make money.

Hello?

You literally forced me to stop drawing because you constantly connected it with negativity???

(not now, I have since stopped talking to her and started drawing again and it is purely for myself, not to show anyone else, I do not even post it on social media or show anyone irl)

Not saying your parents will act like mine, btw, only sharing my experience.

The idea that you'll never be as smart as your brother? That's bullshit lol. That's like saying intelligence is only valuable if it's science or math, which, as you know, is not true. You are you. He is himself. It is not you cannot do those things. It is that those things are not what you want to focus on. You have a limited amount of time in this life and you have chosen the things you want to delve into and explore.

You don't have to be good at everything. Everything is just not good enough for you.

I am of the mindset that you should try and learn everything you can about this world. I love learning, personally. I think knowing everything I know, from the humanities to the sciences, enriches my life and gives me a broader perspective.

But I totally understand how you feel, because being pushed into something makes you end up hating it. Parents push their kids to learn this or that and kids end up resenting schoolwork because it doesn't feel like something they wanna do anymore. It's just adults yapping in their ears and it feels pointless. Grades aren't everything. You think anyone cares that I aced Physics with Calculus I and II as an adult? LMAO, no one gives a shit. You passed, good enough XD

Here's how I think you should treat school. It's not the content that matters. It's you understanding how you learn each subject. Every subject is different and how you learn them is different. It is not because you are bad at the subject, it is because you haven't figured out the best learning style for you. Teachers have to teach a mass of students and, yes, I understand this seems very tedious to have to "teach yourself".

The skill in learning to learn becomes so, so valuable as an adult. It is how you maintain interest in things, how you develop new interests, and how will come to find meaning (in whatever you want to focus on finding meaning for). I'm not saying that you will be able to find your perfect learning style in every subject, but I am encouraging you to simply see it in that light.

And, you might find certain things to be not that important to you, in which case, just pass the class, it's totally fine if it's not going to help you for the career path you're going for XD Nobody asks me about the themes of William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" (tbh, a pair of overdramatic loons) or how I feel about Sigmund Freud (actually a twat, but that's neither here nor there).

Let them talk. That one that walks your path is you. Focus on what you want to focus on. They are set in their ways and they way to show them there are different paths is to walk them.

[esthyradler]

I am Dungeon anon, djdjdjf. I hope submit is OK to use. But I didn't want be creative in attempting to fit everything in one post or in several posts. That might have the misfortune of being eating by the blob that lives inside all post boxes.

So here's the vague I'd I've had for a while now. Ok, not this one, this one only sprung to life by with that other anons writing story ask.

I have lots of IZ OC's only 3 are flushed, however, and only 1 is Irken and would work in accidentally finding Dr.Zam.

So, my Irken OC used to be a Elite Invader top in his smeet class, not as a whole, but among his smeet siblings. Since, I'm not sure of Zams age, but given my own Irkens timeline and what I gathered of Zams timeline. Either mine is a smeet group before, two groups above or actually during Zams time. (Still haven't decided if smeets are born in categorized classes. Like Invader smeets to one smeetary and science needs to another.) So, unsure if their actually smeet siblings, if the same age, again.

Anyway, during my Irkens invader life he was pretty vicious, even partook in the irken gladiator arena for sport between Invading worlds. On one mission he even turned off the air support on a whole planet and felt smug that he'd outsmarted n hid in fake skin never to be discovered, as he watched them all suffocate. He was true green Irken Nationalist - you know - more power to my people above all else, kinda Irken. Belief in Irken ideals that they were superior to organic lifeforms and all other races were inferior to the Irken Empire, that by enslaving n killing other interior lifeforms the Irken empire was in fact helping them. (Yeah brainwashed zombie.)

Anyway, karma is cruel n teaches us many things, like your whole way of life has been a lie and your no more important to the empire you pleadged to give your life to then other species you enslave n murder.

He was sent on his fifth invading planet right after being honoured and gifted a new ship for his last invade. When he was captured by the planet and headed over to their leading scientist. Dubbed 'insanity' A creature so devoid of apathy n emotions he experiments on his own people without blinking, just for shits n giggles.

He tore my irken apart. Broke him down mentally and physically. But it wasn't the torture or experiments that got my irken. It was the fact The Empire had been sending their leading invaders to their planet for years without a single success. Never to hear from a single one, or ever giving warning to future invaders of its danger. Because they meant nothing, once a toy was broken it was thrown away like garbage.

In the end my Invader wouldn't break. Wouldn't spill The Empires secrets. So he was given a virus in his PAK that would create a back door into The Control system n decimate the mem frame, wrack it from the iniade out, why giving the locations to every Irken whose PAK was still connected to Irk. N even has fellow irkens eye implanted in with a camera to watch the show.

But, what the alien scientist didn't know was. My irken may not of broke for him. He broke at very idea of returning to Irk and what The Massive and control brains would do to him if they learner he'd been defeated n let go. That he was a defected irken now, because he felt wrong. Complete mental breakdown ended up running from Irken space and has never looked back since. Especially, after finding out what was done to his PAK. He may hate what The Empire stands for, but he still believes in his people n what they could accomplish as free beings.

Dxhtrxtxxu, sorry, I figured that needed to be said to understand why everything happened.

My irken has killed a fellow smeet Invader Irken who accidentally ended sucked throw a black whole to his neck of the woods n he aligns himself in The Empires eyes just by knowing n speaking to other aliens aligned with The Resistance n The Resisty. Not mention defected, a traitor, still alive and so in. Lots of racked up reasons to be an enemy now.

I figure my aquatic Bounty Hunter working for The Sub branch The Resisty. Ends up way in over their head n leading several Irken towards my Irken. Or they are together my bounty hunter n irken possibly inspecting a new planet for the plant life (my irken is now a space green witch. They deal in the healing art of plants n such. They are very sick - ill explain that only if asked.) n their scanners on their ships don't pick up an training party of irken. Ooor they were already on the planet when the party shows up.

My Irken knows he's got a better chance of being kept alive n either escaping himself or being rescued tyab an inferior alien with ties to The Resisty who more then likely be killed right away.. Not mention he doesn't have the best self esteem anymore n if he dies it's no big deal. But the bounty hunter is his friend, their more then a friend, their the glue that holds my irken together.

So they cause a distraction or fight through all they fear to allow the bounty hunter to get away. N the irkens are more invested in traitors irken then some backwater planet alien.

In order to be kept alive longest my irken tells them in exchange for life imprisonment he'll tell The Empire all they want to know about their Enemies.. of course he's not involved with the Resisty.. knows nothing.. but he know how to be an Invader. He knows how lie n bullshit n work the system at the same time. (He knows they'll kill him after they get what they want. But he has a backup for that too.) He knows even the highest ranking irken can't make this decision alone.. so they gave no choice but to return him to Irken space to contact Irk.. because let's say the Massive doesn't exist anymore.. thank you florpis n Zim.

However, when get to Irk or radio in when close he lays down n the new tallest say simply to strip him of pak n download the info. He smiles n says he's been implanted with a virus any attempt to mess with his pak will infect every online system n destroy them. (He's bluffing.. as far as he knows. But they Don't know that.) Everyone's freaking out now n what to do with him. He's worth so much more alive than dead but he's also a danger.. so the tallest is like. The dungeons.. put him in the dungeons. Their old n there's no tech down there.. no way to infect the rest if irks whole gride system hundred if feet below the surface of irk.. untill they can figure out how to either exstrack the info without him or until they can get it out if him willing as before n just leave him down there to rot after.

At some point either my irken gets out n starts snooping around for a back exist or he just so happens to be stuck in same room as zams prison box.

Also, I figured out a way to keep Zam alive for so long without food or water or nutrient.. Irkens n their PAKs can go into a hibernation like the Wolly Bear Caterpillars.. Who freeze in winter, zero body functions, meaning they are essential dead n not using any resources.. He could be down there for eons without actual death.

I figure the smallest PAK function would be scan the area for other PAKs.. So Zam can one day escape. N his PAK senses my Irkens PAK n - that's as far as I have thought.

Just know Zam is going have to deal with my Irkens PTSD n emotional moments.. Being back in a dungeon all over.. being on irk around other irkens.. woo so many triggers. There might be even moments Zam will halve to talk my irken down from attempted murder as zones n blacks out from bounty of animalistic fear. (But, l figured he's not all stupid n excited puppy scientist. He's got lots of sides to him, especially, if he's going to be able to take care of Zim. So, he should do fine with this.)

I think I covered everything. Sorry about mistakes, I'm super nervous, hard writing this on a phone n I didn't write everything down. If there are more questions about the story or my Irken or any concerns in general, please ask. Oh, utccitcut n my OC Irkens name is Kravis or Krais as an Elite Invader it was SIVARK or SIARK (Still unsure about the missing irken letters in their language.)

----------------------------

This sounds interesting so far(i have a different idea for the whole zam au thing, but I'll allow anyone to make up scenarios with my oc, its sounds cool)

[memory-hoarder]

WARNING (LONG POST AHEAD)

I turn off the lights, scrolled my phone and clicked the Spotify app currently listening to (calming acoustic) 10: 05 PM, best time to unleashed all emotions that piled up from nowhere. I covered myself with a huge blanket and placed the laptop on my lap and decided to visit my page. I know, I'm being inactive lately but I'm doing my best to update my journal publicly to remind me of my long absences.

Tonight, I decided to post the questions I received a night before my birthday celebrated. I kept this on my file for a month now. Admittedly, this is the huge decision I made on my birthday. So, I asked a random people on my messenger lists - some are my work colleagues while others are acquaintances. At first, I am hesitant to ask for favor to anyone but I did. Well, I guess it was successful though I received different reactions - some confused and thought I was making fun while others are game on to sent their questions. Obviously, it took days for me to answered cos it turns out that I wasn't prepared myself for few questions that somehow affects me literally.

The twist here is I am not allow to send my answer to their questions. However, I can answer it through this journal. Which I described as bravery.

Here are some of the questions:

How’s Life? How’s Life?

A question that been asked me twice. Well, this year was the great sadness of my life that challenged me mentally, emotionally and drained me physically. Sometimes a mere struggle on financially. I’m doing fine but lots of times I seriously breaking down especially the trauma of what happened 8 months ago. But today, I accepted the fact and slowly healing me and appreciate what really God’s intention and plan for my life.

Are you happy right now?

Not sure how to put it into words but there is no reason not to be happy. Right? If you just appreciate the life you are living right now or even the smallest thing that makes you smile or giggle I guess there is no reason to be sad at all. Although, lots of times I felt happy, sad, angry or lost. But there are still lots of reasons to celebrate or be joyful too. I juts let myself felt all the emotions that life wanted me to experienced to remind me that I indeed exist. There are people who could bring me joy and sadness at the same time but all I know they are all part of my journey.

Have you ever missed me before we lost our communication? Do you consider me as true friend?

Of course, I do. I miss the old you the person who I genuinely treasured during my college days. And, you are one of the reasons why I indeed survived college. I just don’t understand why we both let this friendship died. Was it because we no longer catch up? But, how I hope building friendship again will no longer hard as I imagined. But, please know that you became part of my story. I always count on you whenever I am sad and confused. I feel comfortable sharing my thoughts because I know you will never judge me. Hope to see you again soon. Take care of yourself!

Why there are times you don’t have the mood to talk?

Because, I read my surroundings and I feel comfortable being alone not to isolate but to process my own thoughts with myself which my normal thing growing up and I choose this way - became aloof at times not wanted to talk to anyone or go out. It makes me sad to think only few understand my personality. However, I can't just normalize this because of extrovert people I knew. I don’t have mood to talk and I push away people closed to me because I find a happy place being alone. Its not sad or dark what it gives me is peace of mind that no on can offer.

Would you like to change your past or stay on your present path? Why and why not?

I believed majority will choose the past, we all wanted to change one thing that we regret of doing - apologies, goodbye's, places to travel, opportunities we must have and other important things we slip away that is why I choose the past over my present. One thing I am eager to experience all over again is my mom's precious life, only if I had the power to bring her back. I was just 16 years old when she died, and I think the years of her being a mother to us will never be enough. However, her life is a blessing and all the valuable teachings that she imparted on me and to my siblings will remain on us forever. How I wish for her to at least see as growing up especially my brother that she spoiled a lot, and for us to give back all the things she deserved. I imagined date her on a restaurant, buy her clothes, treat her to the salon or accompany her on the grocery store. I also wanted to visit the past to catch up with my high school friends – Mira and Jeno, I will never forget how they literally brings me deep joy and the reason I am early bird during junior high because of the dare. I just missed the sound of Jeno's sense of humor, I treated her more than a friend rather a sister and it broke me when I received the news that he's gone. I was not there for him nor visit his and mom's grave for years now. I wanted to comfort Mira, but I am too far away and impossible to have my own money for my flight expenses. What I did is to cried and prayed for his soul. All of the good memories flashed back once more yet I realized God might took away two beautiful souls in my life but I am confident they watching over and guiding me through life.

I am or was curious regarding James situation, did it ever cross your mind you regret James being your boyfriend?

In all of the questions I received this one hits me hard to the core. For everyone’s knowledge James and I are in a relationship for over 4 years now. Just like other couples we did fight over little things yet we matured and grow together. One thing I really loved about James Charlie is how kind and pure his heart. He helps people as long as he can even himself are struggling to live. Not to mention his over confidence that I am jealous of. I guess, because of how friendly and inviting his amour. Also, a talented one he knows how to dance, sing and imitate different kinds of sounds, He’s grammar and vocabulary are lit. He can also play guitar very well, draw portrait’s and even writing a poems. He knew, he won my heart through his creative abilities. I was also surprised how he interested over history of aliens, bermuda triangle, mermaids and what I consistently heard of the Pyramid of Giza, life documentaries and other related history of it. I find him sexy whenever he talked about some of it. Our age gap is never an issue on our relationship and I am lucky that he guided me on everything, considered my opinions or thoughts and when I freaked out badly which occasionally happened he handle me perfectly and I appreciated his temperament level during my anxiety attacks or whenever I choose to isolate myself him being shut off. He understood me in my own terms and be myself. Yet relationship will test your loved from one another, there were also things that I don’t like of him doing however James does listened to me. He listens to advises either coming from me or from other people that cared for him. He is a vocal person, that one thing that I fall for him is his sense of humor. I guess talkative and being clingy towards person is his nature especially growing up in a broken family. Consistent communication is a key. I remembered he told me that I was different to all the girls she dated on his past life. That I am out of his league, he doesn’t know that he is of out my league too but when I know him deeply he taught me lessons in life and felt his warm love. Over the course of our relationship he respect the limitless of our love language and he accepted and understood the love without intimacy is a different level of love and respect and from his perspective I wanted everyone to know that James has a huge respect towards me, my beliefs and reasons. How someone could wait for something that he can easily took away something on his past relationship. Our relationship is somehow changed us individually into a better person. Getting older, he became dreamer and goal oriented. I witnessed all his hard work, that he celebrated through silence. He wanted to build home and think of small business that will be our retirement in the future. How many kids we wanted or how many dogs we will going to breed. I guess, some people misunderstood James for so long, how miserable life that no one to talk and curse during your victories or failures? Friends and addiction in alcohol and other stuff are his way of escaped, escape from the reality that lead him to take his own precious life once. I know how difficult life for him way back on his early 20’s that he fought all his battle alone and how he overcome his depression and addiction without someone to lean on. And nowadays, everything makes sense to me that I realize being independent sometimes is not a choice but more on a decision. decision and accepting no one will guide you through your journey so you have to do it alone either it brings you sadness or happiness in a process, not to count living alone and make money all by yourself. I agreed he might do bad decision in life but that doesn’t mean his life has no purpose at all. Instead, God is confident that he will win this battle not for everyone, not for the sake of me or our relationship but for himself. As for our current situation, I know being with him and fight through the end will inspired him a lot. Yes, he currently working on his self and will prove to everyone when the time comes that he will be able to regain his new

life and continue living.

We introverts, tend to think a lot, like really overthink a lot. What do you mostly overthink and how deep? Deep, like does it leads you to think more negatively resulting to depression? (mild depression, maybe).

I overthink some scenarios on my head when it really affects my whole being and when every time I think of it, obviously it trigger my anxiety not depression I guess. I can recall one or two hard situations that happened to me, and I know it wasn’t me trying to act that way. I even punished myself and literally breakdown trying to hurt myself, call me freak or whatever cos now I asked myself too how I even allowed myself to did terrible things, because anxiety creeping on me and telling me to do it. But, mostly I think of is my future and myself – deep that it scared me a lot. I have lot of questions of this world that I keep on searching by myself until now.

Why it took for you to share your problems?

Honestly, when I’m having a serious problem I am not confident to share to anybody except to my family who already knew. It took too long because advises no longer work for me, I listened because it was normal people do – advise and advise. Maybe, it was me who are picky to share my problem with, sometimes people listened but never in heart. Not all people deserve to know your struggle and during your lowest times, I have my own terms of coping so you do.

How do you maintain your petite body? If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?

Wow! I never see this coming. Well, I guess being fit is what I inherited on my father's side. They not so fat unlike on my mother's side. I have no limit on foods I intake in other words not your discipline person to look up to. I do eat carbs, junk foods and sodas is always on my list. I never worried if I am physically fit aside from walking Maxine during days off. I don't know how do I maintain this body I guess I'm never. Being fit actually is my insecurity. However, I do loved my body whatever what happen.

Well, if I had 3 wishes in life - first, to end this pandemic so that everything will back to normal. second, for James to have peace of mind and good health while waiting for the process of his case. And, lastly, for me to be strong, lasting patience and strong faith.

How would you solve your problems?

Problems is always part of lives. But, I believed it is always about the degree of the problem. Whenever, I had problem sometimes I resolved it in time but other times I need more time and space to think what will be the resort of it. And, pray for some guidance.

As independent being, how do you handle depression and anxiety?

Good thing to end all of this questions, I became independent when I graduated from college. I have to commute 131 kilometers back and forth from another city just to apply on my first job and the process is never easy at all. When you sent all of your applications form on each companies but never accepted It brought so much sadness, one point of my life I am eager to seek job because I used it as my coping mechanism to walked away from home which I did now, I walked away to protect my peace of mind especially having anxiety growing up and having this thing is hard as people imagined. You might only see darkness and feel of losing but for me, I guess for a year now I handled myself perfectly I never allow this condition to swallow me whole and affect my way of living. I reminded myself to keep strong and remain optimist and always protect my peace of mind at all cost.

.

I am 24 now strong and happy and leaving Haruki Murakami quote: "And once the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what storms all about"

[thecloserkin]

book review: Mira Grant, Feed (2010)

Genre: Sci-Fi

Is it the main pairing: Yes

Is it canon: No

Is it explicit: No

Is it endgame: Yes

Is it shippable: Hell to the yes

Bottom line: Creepily Codependent Siblings Survive the Zombie Apocalypse! They are adopted but the way they refer to each other as “my brother” and “my sister” when they could have used given names instead? I am here for it. While tight plotting is not one of this book’s strengths, you should slog through the infodumps to the ending which packs one hydrogen bomb of an emotional wallop.

This is the first book in the “Newsflash” trilogy about a pair of journalists, Georgia and Shaun Mason, who begin by blogging out of their parents’ basement and end by uncovering a vast governmental conspiracy subtended by various alphabet-soup agencies. The zombie apocalypse itself happened 23 years ago, and it happened the way these things invariably happen: Scientists try to cure cancer/the common cold, unleash freak virus on humanity, cue end of the world as we know it. Georgia and Shaun are the paradigmic products of this remade world: They, like many children born in and around the chaos of the outbreak, were orphans. On their adoption papers their birthdays are given as the same day—an arbitrary made-up date, but it makes them twins even if George is def a few months older. She acts older too, acting as the business brains of their fledgling journalistic operation while Shaun’s job is to “poke dead things with sticks” and look good while doing it. There is a performative aspect to Shaun’s mugging for the camera and flirting with anything in a skirt. He’s doing it because outrageous behavior garners them more hits, obviously, but he’s also doing it for George who gets a kick out of watching him charm the pants off people. She is bemused but not remotely threatened. George is all-business all the time, emotionally guarded and wary of physical contact, and one time when someone tried to hug her Shaun smoothly stepped up to intercept the hug to spare her the discomfort of enduring it. I SCREAMED. Note that George doesn’t mind being touched if it’s Shaun doing it:

I shuddered. Shaun caught the gesture and put a hand at the small of my back, steadying me. I flashed him a smile.

Shaun put a hand on my knee, steadying me, and I covered it with my own.

These small moments of tenderness punctuate an endearingly banterful sibling rapport. This is them reacting to the news of their big break—they’ve been tapped to cover the presidential campaign of an idealistic Wyoming senator:

Shaun was sure we’d get it. I was sure we wouldn’t. Now, staring at the monitor, Shaun said, “George?” “Yeah?” “You owe me twenty bucks.”

This is George shooing Shaun out of her room so she can change her clothes:

I pointed to the door. “Get out. There’s about to be nudity, and you’ll just complicate things.” “Finally, adult content! Should I turn the webcams on?”

This is big sister Georgia mocking Shaun for his youthful indiscretions:

”Remember how pissed you got when we had to do all that reading about the Rising back in sixth grade? I thought you were going to get us both expelled.”

In conclusion I love them sfm they are perfect.

As an aside, the people tagging this book “horror” on Goodreads have either not read the book (which is legit, TBR piles are a thing) or don’t understand what horror is? It’s like they saw the word “zombies” and just auto-completed the genre. What defines horror is not blood, gore, or violence but the fear and loss of agency engendered by that violence. That’s why so many horror film protagonists are women, who experience loss of agency in large and small ways on a daily basis and must learn to survive in the face of it; it’s cathartic to watch them take back control. The point of this digression is that THIS IS NOT A HORROR NOVEL. It’s not about that kind of fear!!! This is a political thriller so buckle in kids we’re going for a ride.

Twenty-three years ago during the outbreak, Georgia and Shaun’s parents lost their eight-year-old biological son. He was bitten by the neighbors’ dog. This was before it was widely understood that the virus could jump between mammalian species, and that anything surpassing the 40 pound threshold was susceptible to its effects. The dog weighed over 40 pounds. The Masons, who were award-winning reporters in their own right, dealt with their grief by channeling their emotional resources into chasing the news ratings. They continued to be phenomenally successful journalists as well as shitty parents to Shaun and Georgia, whom they seem to have adopted entirely for publicity purposes. The narrative invites us to draw the comparison between George and Shaun, who have chosen to pursue this career out of a thirst for THE TRUTH, and their parents who have less lofty motivations. Not to put too fine a point on it but their parents are mercenary motherfuckers. These kids survived their childhood by building an emotional bunker that they never learned to climb out of. This line from the very first chapter is so telling because they’re out in the field and Shaun is being chased by a zombie right?:

I screamed, images of my inevitable future as an only child filling my mind.

When Shaun’s in mortal peril, Georgia doesn’t think of him as “the center of my universe”— which he is—she thinks of the void that would result in the loss of her brother. That’s how they fit together, that’s what they are to each other, and all the other stuff is layered on top of the shared trauma of their childhood. Ffs they even have a ritual for administering each other’s blood tests—you know that thing at wedding toasts where the bride and groom loop their arms together and tip the champagne flute into the other’s mouth? Like that:

Moving with synchronicity born of long practice, we broke the biohazard seals and popped the plastic lids off our testing units

So the protocol for taking blood tests, which everyone has to do all day long to prove they’re not infected, is to come into the foyer/antechamber/vestibule one at a time and once you test clean you proceed into the building while the next person cycles into the chamber. That way, if anyone is found to be infected, they can be isolated. Georgia and Shaun have never once complied with this rule:

Our next-door-neighbor used to call Child Protective Services every six months because our folks wouldn’t stop us from coming in together. But what’s the point of life if you can’t take risks now and then, like coming into the damn house with your brother?

Implying that if one of them ever got bitten by a zombie the other one would rather spend the rest of their short life trapped in a garage with the shambling corpse of their sibling than die in their sleep at a ripe old age. Talk about ride or die.

I said before that this presidential campaign, this is their big break as much as it is the candidate’s. Up till now George and Shaun have been blogging under the umbrella of news aggregation entities (sort of like how BuzzFeed and HuffPost and Medium are populated by user-generated content that isn’t necessarily making the content creator an appreciable pile of money), but now they’ve finally landed the story that will let them strike out on their own. One of the sharpest things about this book is how it depicts journalism as a job, and a tough one to do right. Nashville does the same thing for the music industry, and as over-the-top as that show is, it shows you the nuts and bolts of success in a profession where practitioners are supposedly driven by “passion” alone. Here the distribution of labor is skewed pretty heavily towards George:

I get the administrative junk that Shaun’s too much of a jerk and Buffy’s too much of a flake to deal with.

Buffy is their business partner and some kind of auteur hacker + tech whiz. Shaun is the public face of their media brand. But make no mistake, George is the heart and soul and brains of this operation. You see her business acumen in drive-by observations like “Replacing that much equipment would kill our operating budget for months,” or when she talks about i n s u r a n c e. And George talks about insurance a lot. She mentions how a certain camera covered in zombie body fluids is an insurance write-off, how being present in designated high-risk zones during certain times of day can triple your insurance premium, how a certain treatment for her chronic vision condition isn’t covered by health insurance. I … just wanna point out that the human race has survived a flippin’ zombie apocalypse, but the United States remains wedded to private for-profit health insurance where who and what are “covered” remains a game of Russian roulette?!! Whoever said it was “easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism” was onto something. This society is functioning cohesively enough that elections are a thing (thus, nation-states are still a thing). If you want to tell me our fragmented, inefficient, fee-for service model of paying for medical care that routinely bankrupts & kills our citizens has weathered the end of civlization and emerged intact from its ashes, you better look me dead in the eye and bring receipts.

What’s really impressive about Georgia is she’ll rattle off exactly what kind of activities (those forbidden by her journalistic licensing) will invalidate her life insurance if she’s stupid enough to get killed while doing them. From which I surmise that she and Shaun are both covered by pretty hefty policies of which they are each other’s sole beneficiary. Which makes sense, they’re in a dangerous line of work, but I feel like it’s a poor investment since whoever was left behind would be doing their damnedest to climb into the grave next to their sibling lol.

Another little requirement of the household insurance—since we leave safe zones all the time in order to do our jobs, we have to be able to prove we’ve been properly sterilized, and that means logged computer verification of our sterilizations.

George is talking about the AI that is apparently located in her showerhead that douses her with a bleach & antiseptic compound when she comes back from being in the field?? That sounds painful but what concerns me is the breathtaking scope of the Internet of Things’ penetration into her life. The AI is in the bathroom. It knows exactly where she’s been bc ofc her GPS location can be tracked via her phone, and it’s merrily sending packets of information off to …. somewhere, where it will doubtless be aggregated with all the data collected about George from other sources, and combed for patterns to predict future behavior. That’s how surveillance capitalism works. if this sounds chillingly familiar it’s because it’s already happening, it’s what the tech giants are already doing—gobbling up as much data about as many people in as many contexts as possible—and leveraging that data for profit. Privacy is a joke. George is not unaware of this, but what choice does she have? It’s either install the damn AI in her showerhead or get her parents’ homeowners’ insurance policy cancelled for being too “high risk.”

I want to circle back to George’s chronic medical condition for a sec. She’s got a disability—what’s a called a “reservoir condition” where the virus takes up residence in a body organ, in her case the retina—meaning essentially that she has zombie vision; she can see ridiculously well in low light situations but direct sunlight will blind her. She has to wear shades even indoors and is literally incapable of crying since her tear ducts are inoperative. So there’s a testy situation where a federal agent tries to get her to take off her sunglasses so he can verify her identity with a retinal scan right? And because they’re standing outside this is obviously a recipe for permanent blindness, quite aside from the fact you wouldn’t be able to get a valid scan anyway due to the virus over-dilating George pupils. But instead of checking George’s files, where her disability & its effects are prominently listed, this grunt insists on making her remove her glasses because Procedure. It’s a pretty tense moment. Shaun goes ballistic. He doesn’t physically threaten the dude, or insult his mom or anything. No, Shaun understands that he needs to make this pencil-pusher more afraid of the consequences of taking George’s glasses than of Not Following Procedure. And it works. YEET.

On the campaign trail the Senator’s aides arrange for sex-segregated hotel rooms but Shaun and George are having none of it:

On the few occasions when I’ve tried sleeping without Shaun in the next room, well, let’s just say that I can go a long way on a six-pack of Coke.

The ostensible reason the sleeping arrangements need to be reshuffled is, Buffy can’t sleep without a nightlight and George’s eyes can’t tolerate a nightlight. Clearly the real reason is George and Shaun are c l i n g y and codependent as FUCK. One night after a zombie attack and the long grueling hours of cleanup/decontamination that followed it, they actually climb into the same bed—I guess this room only had a double instead of two singles?? The scene the next morning, the two of them having predictably overslept:

“Fuck a duck, Buffy, what are you trying to do, blind her?” … Shaun, clad only in his boxer shorts, staring at an unrepentant Buffy.

So Shaun’s beef with Buffy is not that she barged in on them while they were asleep & half-naked but that she opened the curtains, thereby triggering a painful migraine for George’s sensitive eyes. Buffy explains she didn’t shake them awake because they both sleep armed, lmao. George’s disability and Shaun’s practiced ability to help her maneuver around it (like a trusty prosthetic, he’s an extension of herself) serves to highlight how in this partnership they are one unit and they know each other inside out. This is them after their close shave with the dunce who tried to take George’s glasses:

“Fuck you, too,” I muttered as Shaun got his arm around me and hoisted me away from the barn. “You kiss our mother with that mouth?” “Our mother and you both, dickhead. Give me my sunglasses.”

And this is George waking up in their hotel room, eyes squeezed shut against the glare of multiple computer screens:

He touched my hand with the tips of his fingers before he pressed my sunglasses against my palm.

This is absurdly, spine-tinglingly intimate. First he touches her hand with the tip of his fingers, the most fleeting of touches to let her know it’s him, and then he presses the glasses into her palm to restore her agency so she can, you know, open her eyes. And that earlier scene with him guiding her by the elbow in broad daylight!!! I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING

Sometimes I can hardly believe that George and Shaun are twenty-three years old. When I was twenty-three I … was not adulting half so well as these kids. But then, giving their barbarous upbringing, that’s not surprising; my parents loved and nurtured me. When I look at George and Shaun and the successful business they’ve built and the professional relationships they’ve cultivated and their expertise and their bravery I just feel this proud parental glow you know?

I want to say a word about Senator Ryman before we move onto spoiler territory. There’s a big controversy initially about whether the Senator is “genuine” or not (spoiler alert: he is). But what does that even mean, genuine? He’s a good egg, sure, but what are his policies, none of which are explored in depth except his support for horse farms??? I’m not kidding. In a world where any animal weighing over 40 pounds is a zombie outbreak waiting to happen, it’s a controversial position to say people should be able to keep pets in residential zones. Here is how George describes our Candidate:

He’s like a big, friendly Boy Scout who just woke up one day and decided to become the President of the United States of America.

I see two major problems with this: One, they say “Personnel is Policy” so who the hell is he planning to appoint to key Cabinet positions and can he trust them to pursue rather than undermine his objectives (and does he even have a deep enough bench of people to draw on)? Two, the Boy Scouts of America are not exactly, er, unproblematic, and while it’s safe to say our faves are always problematic, I think “Boy Scout” is shorthand here for “no skeletons in his closet,” which again puts the focus squarely on his personal qualities rather than what policies he espouses. It’s great that he hasn’t cheated on his wife or his taxes. But morality and ethics are not the same thing:

Morals are how you treat people you know. Ethics are how you treat people you don’t know. Your morality is what makes you a good spouse/friend … Your ethics are what makes you a good politician … Morality dictates that you take care of your family, friends and even acquaintances first … For a large society—a society where you can’t know everyone—to work, ethics must come before morality, or ethics and morality must have a great deal of overlap. By acting morally, you must be able to act ethically.

I think we can all agree that this does not describe how our society is currently constituted, and it doesn’t describe George and Shaun’s America either. So this narrow fixation on whether individual candidates are “genuine” or corrupt imo kinda misses the point. George says:

I haven’t even been able to find proof that his campaign received funding from the tobacco companies, and everyone’s campaign receives funding from the tobacco companies.

I don’t want to undersell how important it is the guy is not taking tobacco money. But is he also eschewing Wall Street money, Big Pharma money, defense contractor money? How could George possibly have time to investigate all this dark money if she is supposed to be covering the actual campaign? Seems like it would be a lot easier to reform the campaign finance laws than to vet every single single candidate’s funding sources.

I think one reason the Senator is long on identity & personal charisma and short on policy is that he’s up against an opponent whose base of support is millenarian-fundamentalist “the Rapture is here, we’re all going to hell”:

it was either Ryman’s brand of “we should all get along while we’re here,” or Tate’s hellfire and damnation.

If that is the main faultline in society, I guess half the voters don’t really wanna hear how a given politician is planning to make a material difference in their lives, since they’ve already got eyes on the prize aka the next life.

So there you have it. George and Shaun are scrappy independent muckrakers digging for the truth. Time and again their allegiance to that holy grail overrides their concern for trivial aims like idk personal safety. There’s a vast, shady conspiracy afoot, and as our heroes get closer to it they start getting shot at. They lose comrades. None of this deters them because they are after THE TRUTH. Oh wait there is in fact one thing George values more than the truth:

”You’re more interested in your brother than figuring out the truth?” “Shaun’s the only thing that concerns me more than the truth does.”

And later:

The sight of him was enough to make my heart beat faster and my throat get tight. I knew he was wearing Kevlar underneath his clothes, but Kevlar wouldn’t protect him from a headshot.

Her first concern is always, always, for him.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

George gets infected. That’s the denouement. George is infected and Shaun has to shoot her before she turns all the way. Every single person who makes it to this scene is just bawling by the end of it:

His lips brushed the top of my head as he bent forward and pressed them to my hair. I wanted to yell at him to get away from me, but I didn’t. The barrel of the gun remained a cool, constant pressure on the back of my neck. When I turned, when I stopped being me, he would end it. He loved me enough to end it. Has any girl ever been luckier than I am?

The reassuring pressure of the gun on the base of her neck??? Has there been a more romantic moment in cinematic history??? I THINK NOT. Shaun is a crack shot—he’s the kind of guy who caresses his guns, names them after pretty women, causes his sister to grouse about digging through a suitcaseful of his weaponry to find her clothes—and yet here he is using his gun to kill the woman he loves most in the world.

It was supposed to be Shaun. They both took it as a given that Shaun would be the one to die first. Now he has to find a reason to continue living other than the obvious (vengeance). Stay tuned for the next installment, narrated by Shaun!

[seriouslyhooked]

Lost Souls and Reveries (Part 2)

18 part AU written for @cssns​. Part 1 Here. Story available on AO3 Here and FF Here. Banner created by the amazingly talented @shipsxahoy​!!

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to a future he is destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers, but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set them free, or will past demons win out in the end? (Answer: love always wins – I am writing this so despite some tiny pockets of angst it’s basically a fluff-filled insta-love fest). Rated M.

A/N: Hey all! So first, thanks to all of you who have shown this fic love and who are joining me on this new adventure. This chapter we will pick up from Emma’s POV and we’ll establish more of Emma’s story along with more of what the CS relationship might look like in this kind of AU. Fair warning that the heavier themes that we saw in Killian’s past have similarly sad shades in Emma’s. As with the last chapter though, I am trying to shy away from anything like graphic sadness. If you’re worried about it (and keep in mind all angst is in the flashback) feel free to message me. Also know that it’s all in the past and that this fic WILL be a certified fluff fest. Anyway hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

How can something so dark be so beautiful? It was the first thing Emma thought when she looked at the man she knew had to be from out of town standing there on Main Street.

He was hardly dressed for the June weather or the Storybrooke style of living. Dark jeans, a dark shirt, and a black leather jacket gave him an edge that only accentuated the midnight color of his hair and the stubble of the beard he had along his handsome face. The clothes were well fitted and Emma couldn’t help but take him all in, noticing the hard lines of muscle that spoke to a physique she desperately wanted to get her hands on. The attraction that she felt was too fast, too potent, and then she caught the intensity of his blue gaze and Emma lost her breath. A purer color she had never seen, not even on the brightest of summer days in the ocean she’d grown up on. It was intriguing and perplexing, and in the light of this fading day Emma wondered if there were actually gold flecks among the blue or if she just imagined them. Either way his eyes were only one part of a perfectly potent package.

Holy crap! This guy was… lethal, deadly, and totally and without question consuming her. The few seconds they’d been looking at each other felt simultaneously all too fleeting and like a small eternity in themselves. Emma couldn’t tell if she wanted to bolt under the intensity of his stare or if she wanted to run towards him. It was the strangest sensation, but it was no stranger than the thought that rang out in her mind at first sight: Mine!

“Emma, honey, you doing alright?”

The question from her mother pulled Emma back to the reality of the morning she was actually living in, and it mirrored the moment last night when her mother appeared and broke the trance between Emma and the enigmatic new arrival to Storybrooke. This time though, Emma wasn’t spacing out in public. She was in her childhood home enjoying a weekly breakfast with her parents. She felt herself begin to flush with embarrassment, wishing she hadn’t just been fantasizing about some hot guy in front of her Mom and Dad. She really needed to get herself together, impossibly handsome man or not.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Sounds like someone needs more coffee,” her father said with his usual chipper tone. He got up to refill Emma’s mug and her Mom put more pancakes on her plate, which made Emma smile. This was so like her parents, to be totally in sync with each other and to have one guiding motivation of making their kids happy.

Emma had been on the receiving end of even more of their love and attention than usual lately because she wasn’t splitting the time with her younger bother Neal. Instead, her brother was off enjoying his summer in Boston with some of the world’s smartest teenagers at a camp designed for young geniuses. It was an honor, but not surprising that her little brother would get to go on such an adventure, because Neal had always been the smartest kid she’d ever known. All the same, Emma realized it was difficult for her parents to let him go away for such a long stretch of time even if he was thirteen. But after years of his early childhood when he’d had no choice but to stay cooped up inside and sheltered from other kids, they couldn’t deny him the chance to branch out. It was time for her brother to spread his wings a bit, if not leave the nest fully.

“Are you sure you’re getting enough sleep, Emma?” Her mother asked. Emma quirked a brow up in question and her mother qualified the statement immediately. “I just ask because I know there’s a lot on your plate. Your Dad’s told me how wonderful you’ve been and how much work you’re taking on at the clinic. I want to make sure you aren’t pushing yourself too much.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Emma assured her, thinking that if anything the closeness to animals and the feeling that she was doing good works always boosted her morale. “It was just one restless night. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Any other parent would have been appeased by this kind of admission, but Emma’s mother remained tense even in the face of Emma’s promise. Mary Margaret Nolan’s blue eyes took in Emma as if studying for signs of an underlying struggle. Emma felt on the spot, but she willed herself to portray a sense of calm even if she didn’t fully feel it. Without her mother even having to ask, Emma knew the fear that both of her parents developed when Emma’s sleep was troubled. They were worried that the dreams were back, or rather one dream that had plagued Emma on and off for years.

“Why don’t I just give Doctor Hopper a call?” Her Mom asked, moving towards the phone. “You know he’s always so good at helping you. I’m sure he has time this week. Let me just -,”

“Mom!” Emma said, in a louder sterner voice that still tried to be courteous even in its forcefulness. Her mother looked at her again and Emma stood up and took her hand, trying to really make her see that she was making too big a deal of this. “I promise you I’m okay, and if I thought I had to go back to Archie you’d be the first one I told. It’s fine – trust me.”

Finally her Mom exhaled a breath and Emma knew the worst was over. The sudden bought of worrying had now mostly passed, and things could return to normal again. The three of them sat back at the table together, and though there was a kind of quiet that settled all around them, it wasn’t thick and tense in an uncomfortable way. Thank goodness for that. For now Emma had gotten away with her little white lie, but to ensure they didn’t go down that road again she needed a distraction. She jumped on the first one she could think of that had the highest chance of success.

“So have you heard anything from Neal?” Emma asked, switching over to something she knew they’d love to fill her in on. “How’s he liking MIT?”

“Oh he loves it,” her mother replied excitedly. “You should have heard him when he called yesterday. He was so excited about this flying contraption thingy. Goodness, he said the name about a dozen times, but I just can’t remember - what was it again David?”

“Drone Day,” Emma’s Dad filled in with a smile. “They had to design and build their own drone and whoever’s could complete the most tasks won.”

“Let me guess, his was the best?” Emma asked, already knowing the answer.

“Mhmm,” her mother hummed proudly.

Emma felt a similar surge of pride for her little brother, knowing Neal was a remarkable kid with an amazingly attuned brain. He was truly brilliant, but he was also kind as well. Neal wasn’t awkward or secluded from the rest of the world despite his talents; he was just a regular teenage boy with a unique ability to remember all kinds of things and answer problems faster than anyone she knew. He’d actually been told a number of times that he could test out of his grade early and head to college in just a couple more years if he so chose, but he didn’t want that. Despite his gifts, Neal had always wanted to be normal, and after everything her parents were more than willing to give him that.

“When are you guys going down there again?” Emma asked, knowing that since they dropped Neal off last week her parents had been counting down the hours until another family visiting day would come.

As expected, her parents prattled on about the mid-summer check in that would arrive in a few weeks, and her mother mentioned that there might be some need for her to go down to Boston in the meantime. If that happened, she might get the chance to see Neal then.

Emma bit back a laugh at the thought, knowing there was no real reason to get down to the city in the coming week, but she took comfort in the overwhelming love her parents had for her brother. Neal had always been there little miracle baby, born after ten years of trying to give Emma a sibling when all hope was relatively gone. When he’d gotten sick it had nearly killed her parents, but hope, and belief that things had to get better, along with some kick ass advancements in medicine, had cured Neal of the disease that threatened to take him far too soon. Having gone through all that with him, it was understandable that Emma’s parents would be so protective and fierce in their love for their youngest child, and Emma had learned a long time ago that it didn’t mean they loved Neal any more than her. There was more than enough love to go around in the Nolan family, of that she was totally sure.

“We’re thinking of having a big end of the summer cook out,” her mother said at one point, drawing Emma’s attention. There was no exaggeration in her mother’s world. If she said big, she meant big, like the whole town of Storybrooke big.

“Oh really?” Emma asked, already picturing it in her mind and knowing her Mom would find some way to top the dozens of other parties she’d thrown through the years. How she’d do that, Emma didn’t know, but the last summer party they’d had there were bouncy castles for the kids, elaborate lantern lights spanning the woods in the back of the house, flowers covering every corner of the grounds, and water fixtures just for show. Her mother had actually had a hedge maze put into the backyard. To be blunt, it was completely over the top.

“We figured it would be good to welcome Neal back home again and to celebrate your working with Dad. You know you never let us throw the graduation party I was planning last year.” Emma laughed at her mother’s slight pout. It was a well known fact to everyone in town that Mayor Mary Margaret Nolan hated to be denied a celebration.

“That’s because you started talking about hiring entertainers and acrobatic performers. I went to vet school, Mom. I didn’t join the circus. It was a lot.”

“It wasn’t -,” her mother began to say, but Emma watched as her Dad wrapped his arm around her mother’s waist and heard him murmur words of correction. This led her Mom to sigh and admit the truth. “Okay, maybe it was a little much, but I was just so proud of you. We’re both so proud.”

“I know, and I love you guys for that,” Emma admitted freely, standing up and giving them both a hug. “So if you want to throw the party that’s fine – just promise me you’ll try to keep it low key.”

Her mother replied that she would try her best at the same time that her father said ‘not happening,’ and the three of them shared a laugh together. But at that moment Emma realized her time with her parents was also running short. She had plans to meet up with her best friends Elsa and Anna today and if she left now she’d be there just in time to not get a scolding about being late. Emma made her goodbyes to her parents and headed for the front door, smiling to herself about the time she’d just had and how lucky she was to have her family.

By the time she was outside Emma was totally at peace, loving the warmth of the sun on her skin and the beautiful day that had settled into town, but just as she was about to head down the front path of her parents’ house and out into the world again, something caught her eye on the ground. Whatever the object was it was metallic, reflecting light where nothing should be at the edge of the emerald green lawn. Emma didn’t know what it was at first, but when she pulled it from it’s hiding place, half buried in the dirt, she was dumbfounded. It couldn’t actually be… could it?

Wiping the brown topsoil off of the pendant that hung on a simple white gold chain, Emma felt her fingers trace a design she’d studied for years. It was an unusual style of carving, but after close inspection it was clear this was supposed to represent a compass. North, South, East, and West were all represented, but the etchings in the middle were swirls that seemed almost ancient in their design. Emma had never seen anything else like them before, but she found this on that night – the night that could have very well been her last– the night that plagued her dreams for years. Seeing the amulet now, she felt the memories sink into her consciousness, as if she couldn’t control her own mind now that they were here again.

Sitting with Neal as he lay sleeping in the hospital bed, Emma tried to ignore how pale he looked and how weak he appeared. Her brother had always been a small boy, but now he was identifiably sick and it tore Emma up inside to see him this way.

Despite everything she felt though, Emma never ever let her brother know her pain. It was so hard, but every moment she spent with Neal she stood as strong as she could. Emma was seventeen and Neal was only seven, and where a few months ago she had thought he was often annoying and always under foot, now she realized what a gift it was to have him. Her little brother was the best kind of person, and she couldn’t even imagine him not getting to grow and to thrive and to put his stamp on the world. She had to believe he would get better. She just had to.

“Doctor, there has to be something else we can do.”

Emma heard her mother’s voice from where she stood in the hallway with her father and the doctor, and the frailty in her Mom’s tone cut Emma to the core. Here was a woman who always had hope, but right now her mother sounded like she had nothing to cling to anymore. She was starting to lose her faith, but she couldn’t do that. They couldn’t give up on Neal, not when he needed them more than ever.

“I know it seems bad, Mrs. Nolan -,”

“Mary Margaret,” her mother corrected, and Emma almost smiled, knowing that her mother was always trying to remind the staff at the hospital of their first names. She believed that by building a bond it would improve Neal’s chances of getting better, and Emma knew all of them would give anything and do anything to help her brother now.

“I know it seems bad Mary Margaret, but this is just the first step of the treatment. When you came to me I told you that the cocktail he needs of medicines are hard on any body.”

“You did,” Emma’s father agreed. “But we didn’t realize… he’s just so…”

“Weak. I know. This round of treatment is grueling and harder than anything he’s ever had to fight before. It’s a tougher combination than nearly anyone in this hospital will ever have to take, but it’s the only way we know how to maybe kill the disease. If he makes it through to stage two -,”

“When he makes it,” Emma said out loud, knowing she wouldn’t wake Neal who was still sleeping soundly.

Rising from her spot where she’d been perched beside her brother, Emma walked into the light of the hallway to see them. Her parents looked forlorn in the moment, and Emma could see the trail of tears that stained her mother’s cheeks and the welling up of unshed one’s in her father’s eyes. They were both at their breaking point, filled with despair and with guilt. The genetic nature of Neal’s disorder made them feel like it was their fault but it wasn’t. They weren’t seeing clearly because they were feeling too much. Emma, however, would not yield to the sadness yet. She had to believe that this would work, and if everyone else was too scared to be strong, then she would be strong for them.

“Neal’s going to make it,” Emma stated with conviction. “He’s stronger than you all think.”

“Emma, honey -,”

“Don’t!” Emma said forcefully, holding her hand up. “I don’t want to hear anything from any of you if it’s not agreeing that he will get better. He told me himself today that the pain wasn’t so bad. He just needs a few days rest and you’ll see. He’s going to be okay. He has to be okay.”

Before anyone could contradict her, Emma turned around and headed down the long hallway, running when it was strictly forbidden in the hospital. She knew she wouldn’t stay gone for long, but the harsh glare of the hospital lights and the dizzying, claustrophobic feeling that facing all of this caused in her needed some kind of relief. Emma had to get some air and some space, if just for a little while, and she moved down the stairwell and out into the side alley of the hospital. She had found herself out here a time or two before, usually during the day, and she was glad that tonight there was no one else around. She needed to be alone. It was the only way she could let the tears that had been building fall.

But in the instant that her eyes began to really blur with her emotion, something moved in her peripheral vision, causing Emma’s senses to go on alert. That was strange – since she’d just checked both directions and there was nothing there, but Emma had found in the months since they moved here from Storybrooke that wildlife wasn’t unheard of. There were raccoons in the city, and the occasional possum too. Emma assumed whatever it was would be something like that at worst, or maybe just a rat – which while gross was nowhere near threatening – but when she wiped her eyes and looked at the figure that stood in the shadows of the dumpster across the way, it made her blood run cold.

The shape of the beast before her was obviously canine, but it was way too big to be any kind of dog that she knew. The one’s her Dad had worked with all her life looked nothing like this massive, hairy, beast. Emma swallowed harshly just at the imposing size of this animal, trying to convince herself it was just some lost freakishly large golden retriever that meant her no harm, but then its eyes flashed red and Emma knew this was a real predator, and not some passing, unthreatening being.

Okay, Emma, don’t panic, she said to herself as she crept back to the door. Nice and easy, don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

After a few seconds, she was back within arm’s length of the door and as she reached out for the handle Emma felt the tiniest surge of relief. There was enough space between her and whatever this animal was for her to get inside before it got to her, but then she went to turn the door and it was locked. Shit! Shit, shit shit! Emma’s eyes went to look for another place to run, but the beast was blocking the entrance to the street and it chose that moment to step further into the light.

It’s a wolf, Emma thought to herself, but it was hardly a coherent thought. The musing was just the product of a brain rocked by fear trying to make sense of the impossible.

How could there possibly be a wolf in the city? And since when had wolves gotten to be so large and so menacing? With the adrenaline spiking in her system, Emma’s vision began to haze around the edges. Her breathing became shallow, her palms sweaty as the emotion coursed within her. She heard a shrieking cry, only to realize it had come from her as the animal moved forward. It was a last ditch attempt instinctively to save herself, for there was nothing here in the alleyway to try and fend off a demon wolf.

The next few moments were packed with a flooding sense of fear, but just as Emma thought her final seconds on earth had arrived, another wolf jumped into the fray of things. It was crazy to see, watching the lighter wolf that was hunting her be tackled by one that was a shade of midnight black. It didn’t make any sense, and the strangeness of it kept Emma spellbound. She watched in a sick kind of fascination, but her instincts never told her to run, not after the new wolf arrived. For some reason she felt safer, as if two huge animals was somehow better than just one, and then the tussle was over and Emma discovered the black wolf had won out in the end. He looked to be similar in size, if not a bit bigger than her attacker had been, but Emma noticed the difference in the eyes of this animal. Instead of red irises, his were gold – at least Emma assumed it was a he. It just kind of felt that way as she stared at the mammoth creature that had saved her life.

“You saved me,” she said aloud, and then in the weirdest twist (likely brought on because she was fully crazed from what had just happened) she longed to reach out to this wolf. She felt the need to thank him, to be closer to him, but before she could get the chance the wolf sprang away, heading back down the alleyway and into the night...

The laughter of some of the neighborhood children pulled Emma back from the remembrance of that evening. She took a steadying breath, trying to remind herself that it had all just been a dream as she tucked the medallion in the pocket of her dress.

After years of working with her therapist, Doctor Hopper, Emma realized that whole incident had likely just been a mental break. The stress of her brother’s illness had pushed her mind to see impossible things, and in the light of the next day Emma found there was nothing in the alleyway to corroborate the story. It could not have been real in the end, and she’d resigned herself to the fact that though she’d never had a moment vividly captured in her mind, it couldn’t be the truth. This compass was the only thing that seemed to not belong in the light of day, and Emma had taken it with her only to lose it again years later when she was going off to college.

Finding it now felt like some kind of sign, a sign Emma didn’t know exactly how to read. She tried to piece it together as she moved through town to get to her date with Anna and Elsa, but it was all for nothing. There was no real way to know what anything meant, and for all she knew it was just a coincidence. The world was filled with them, after all, so reading too much into this would likely do her no good.

“Emma, you made it!” Elsa said by way of greeting as Emma walked through the door of the town’s tiny café.

It was a relief to Emma to see her oldest and dearest friend after a few days apart. Elsa was always so bubbly and kind, and the two of them, along with Elsa’s sister Anna, had been through everything together. Their mothers had been pregnant with them at the same time, and it was a long standing joke that Emma was just as much a sister as Elsa and Anna were. When Neal was sick Elsa and Anna were her rock and safe place. Elsa had even taken the bus a few times from Storybrooke to Boston during that terribly unsure time to see Emma and make sure she and Neal were okay. Then when tragedy struck and Elsa and Anna lost their parents in a car wreck just a year later, Emma tried to return the favor. She was diligent in making sure she was there for Elsa and for Anna, but even though she loved them to pieces, she wouldn’t call herself a particularly affectionate friend. As such it was a surprise to Elsa when Emma gave her a huge hug, trying to wash away the last of the emotions that the remembrances had caused.

“Okay, Emma, what’s going on with you?” Elsa asked, sounding almost like a mother instead of a best friend.

“Nothing,” Emma said. “What, can’t I give my best friend a hug?”

“Of course you can,” Elsa responded with a softer look. “But I know you and I know when there’s something up, and something is definitely up.”

“I bet I know what it is,” Anna proclaimed gleefully as she appeared as if out of thin air, giving Emma a hug of her own before leading them all to their seats and diving right into the conversation. “You heard about the new guy, didn’t you, Els?”

“The new guy?” Elsa asked as Emma blushed, thinking back to the stranger she’d encountered last night and not having the power to shut off the way her heart skipped a beat at the mere mention of his existence. She should have known that somehow Anna would be aware of him. If there was even a whiff of gossip in this town, Anna was undoubtedly in the know.

“His name is Killian Jones if my intel is correct, and you know it always is,” Anna filled in with the same sass and silliness that she always had in spades as she flipped one of her braids over her shoulder and continued on. “He’s renting Mrs. Hubbard’s cottage down on the beach for the summer, he drives a red pick up truck, and he has a bit of an accent but other than that there’s not much to know yet. Tiana said he just came into town to pick up his keys at her office and then immediately left. I asked around the diner and it turns out he hasn’t been seen since.”

“Well to be fair he only got here last night,” Emma replied as she digested the news.

Despite doing her best to seem unaffected, Emma was ravenous for more information about the town’s newest arrival. This was already more than she’d known previously, and truth be told even knowing his name felt powerful. Killian Jones – that wasn’t a name that you heard every day. It was strong, and admittedly sexy, and when Emma compounded that with the fact that Anna said he had an accent she was intrigued. There was no telling where the man was from just by appearances. All Emma knew was that he wasn’t from anywhere near here.

After a beat of silence fell between Emma and her friends, Emma realized she’d just stepped into a trap. Elsa, for her part, looked shocked at Emma’s added bit of news, but Anna only grinned as she took Emma’s opening to get more information.

“And just how did you know he arrived last night, Emma Nolan?” Ugh, she was so busted. Oh well, better to just tell Anna what she knew instead of trying to draw it out.

“I may have seen him for a second on my way to dinner with Mom,” Emma answered, hoping beyond hope her tone of voice wouldn’t give her actual feelings about seeing him away. Unfortunately with her best friends, escaping notice was impossible.

“Oh my God and you didn’t even call me?!” Anna practically yelled as Elsa asked, “Really? What was he like?”

“There isn’t really much to say,” Emma assured Anna, “I only saw him for a moment. We didn’t even talk or anything.”

“But he made an impact,” Elsa said resolutely, in that almost prophetically accurate way she tended to have.

“I guess,” Emma hedged, even though she knew for sure that he had.

“So you saw him. There must be something else you noticed. Spill it,” Anna begged, looking like a kid awaiting presents on Christmas morning.

“He’s different,” Emma said immediately, and before she could think the better of it she gave a better sketch of him. “I’ve never seen anyone like him before. He stood out, but in a good way. He kind of looked like he should have ridden into town on a motorcycle with the shades and the leather jacket -,”

“Oh Tiana told me about that,” Anna replied gleefully. “She said it was hot, hot, hot. Like James Dean in his prime only better.”

Emma didn’t understand the flare of something like jealousy at Tiana’s characterization. After all she wasn’t wrong. The man – Killian, Emma corrected herself mentally –was more than attractive. His aura had pulled her in more than any other man ever had, but Emma didn’t love the idea of other women noticing him. It was weirdly territorial and very unlike her, but Emma couldn’t deny the feelings as much as she might like to.

“He seemed kind of… intense,” Emma admitted, remembering the way it felt to be caught in his gaze and the way the look he gave her felt like a physical caress against her skin. “But I could just be reading into it. I don’t actually know him.”

“You will,” Elsa asserted suddenly, taking both Emma and Anna by surprise. The certainty in her friend’s voice caused Emma to shiver slightly, for in all the years of their being friends Emma had never known an Elsa prediction or insight to be wrong. Still it was strange. How could Elsa be so certain when she herself had never even seen Killian before? As if she could read Emma’s questioning thoughts Elsa qualified. “I just have a feeling about it.”

“Ohh an Elsa feeling!” Anna clapped happily, bringing attention to them from the other people in the café. “This just keeps getting better and better!”

From there Elsa and Anna began bantering back and forth over their tea and scones about what the future might hold for Emma and ‘her mysterious match.’ They went on and on, mostly teasing as they built out a whole trajectory for Emma and Killian’s relationship, but eventually Emma pleaded with them to have mercy. Much as she wanted to laugh along with the over the top theatrics and not think too much of this, it was harder than expected. What was meant as teasing somehow felt more powerful today, and Emma was sitting there yearning for all of these milestones to be real even though she didn’t know the man in question. The only way to shut it down was to do what she’d done with her parents earlier – and thankfully she succeeded, switching their conversations from chit chat of her would-be love life to other talks of the town and updates from Elsa and Anna.

Soon enough the afternoon get together with her friends drew to a close. Even though it was a Saturday, Emma still had errands to run and people to see. Right now there was a book on hold for her and her Dad at the library, and though Emma knew her friend Belle would be there a bit past closing time, she didn’t want to take advantage of the town librarian’s devotion to her job. Instead Emma took her leave from her friends and she hustled out the door and towards the library. The brisk pace she set herself was the perfect kind of distraction from her own wayward thoughts, but just when she believed herself to be in the clear, she turned the corner and walked right into a hard body.

The impact of the collision was harsh, with her hands hitting a hard chest first and her whole body following thereafter, but before Emma could stumble, two firm, warm hands reached out to steady her. The zing of awareness Emma felt at the contact should have been warning enough that this wasn’t an ordinary person she’d just met with, but she couldn’t believe that it could possibly be her newest neighbor until her eyes moved up her assailant’s body and her eyes clashed with the same stormy blue ones she’d seen yesterday.

Dear Lord, this man was handsome. Emma had known that after seeing him yesterday, but standing this close did nothing to dull the fierceness of her want for him. If anything she was more enchanted than before, having the benefit of his hands on her and the most alluring scent that seemed to cling to him wafting over her. His whole energy was this fascinating thing, sending little bits of shock coursing through her system. Her heart beat out in a frantic rhythm, but weirdly she felt more settled than she had all day, as if her body was taking comfort in all this awareness that she’d never experienced before.

“Are you all right, love?” 

His words melted into her as she luxuriated in the gravely tone and that subtle lilt Anna had mentioned. It was intoxicating to be so close to him, and Emma was so wrapped up in it, she hardly knew how to form words to respond. In fact she forgot to do so until he repeated the question.

“Yeah sorry,” she said, wetting her lips and pulling his eyes to her mouth in the process. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Do you make a habit of such accidents?” Killian asked, his blue eyes shining with a playfulness that threw her for a loop. Was he flirting with her right now? Emma found herself wishing that he was even as she stepped back out of his hold. It wasn’t polite to stand there cuddled in his embrace, but already she missed the feeling of his skin on hers.

“No. I mean not really. Not more than other people anyway. I mean sometimes there are hiccups at the clinic when the animals get checked in and… you know what, I’m babbling. I’ll shut up now.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” he replied, sounding genuinely interested in hearing whatever inane word vomit had been close to getting out seconds before.

“You’re Killian, right?” Emma asked, unable to help herself even though she was making it abundantly clear that she’d been talking about him.

“News travels fast in small towns,” he said, as if he knew first hand the dynamic of small villages like Storybrooke.

“You could say that. I’m Emma by the way.”

“I know,” he replied honestly, surprising her completely. 

She must have shown the shock on her face because his smile grew wider in return, sending her heart fluttering again like she was some silly schoolgirl. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how he’d already picked up that little piece of info, but just as she was about to Killian shook his head and muttered something like ‘damn interruptions.’ She was perplexed for half a second before the library door swung open and Belle appeared.

“There you are! I was starting to wonder if you’d be getting here today,” Belle’s eyes shone with delight at Emma’s visit, but when she spotted Killian they went wide and Emma could see her regret. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Belle this is Killian, Killian this is Belle. Belle’s the town librarian and Killian is…”

“Whatever you want me to be, love,” he replied, looking only at Emma and lacing his words with a delicious insinuation that she felt down to her core. It was without a doubt the sexiest thing a man had ever said to her and Emma was speechless in the face of it. After a few moments of fantasizing about what exactly she wanted from him, Emma tore her gaze from his. She felt the flush hit her cheeks as she looked at Belle who was a bit more composed but also totally amazed at the interaction. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I’ll leave you to it and be on my way. It was good meeting you, Belle.”

“You too,” Belle replied.

And me? Emma thought to herself, but the look on Killian’s face told her that she might have just blurted that mortifying question out loud.

“There are no words, Emma,” he assured her as he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. It was a totally unexpected move. Both torturously tame and incredibly hot. “I’ll see you soon, love.”

With those final words he walked away, looking far too good for Emma’s sanity and making her wish there hadn’t been an interruption. She could only imagine where that would have gone if they’d had more time together. She had a hundred different questions and this indescribable need to just be close to him, but alas, now was not the time. She had things that needed doing, and by the look of the face on Belle’s expression she had a bit of explaining to do too. Before she did though, she wanted to be sure of something.

“That just happened, right? I didn’t dream that up?”

“Oh honey, that definitely just happened, and by the looks of it, it’ll probably happen again too.”

One can only hope.

Post-Note: When I was first asked to do CSSNS a few months back, my immediate thought was that this had to be a shifter story because every one I have ever read has the love at first sight, true-love element that I just LOVE writing for CS. Because it’s Once though, I also had to have the interruptive elements. That show was constantly making these two wait, and while I’ve done that (and will do it a few more times in this story), rest assured that there will be a big, beautiful pay off. Anyway I hope that you guys enjoyed seeing Emma’s POV and getting some of her back story. Let me know what you think and as always I hope you have a great rest of your day!

Tag list (if you’d like to be added just let me know): @jennjenn615 @winterbaby89 @kmomof4 @teamhook @coliferoncer @ultraluckycatnd @resident-of-storybrooke @snarkycaptainswan4 @nikkiemms @artistic-writer @allofdafandoms-blog @eastside-divebar @snowbellewells

[theblckbts]

Cupid | 01

Jimin goes to his family gathering due to his youngest sibling getting married as  he is stuck with his parents and siblings who have already found their true love. His parents always on his back about finding a girl that can love him and that he can love back. He just wanted to wait, little did he know that his true love was right by his side all along.

Warning: Smut (later chapters)

Genre: Cupid!au Pairing: Park Jimin X Reader  

Jimin had been on his phone the whole dinner. He had felt like his siblings were rubbing off their affection and snot to their partners. As Jimin’s father had made yet another toast to the newly engaged couple. Making plans for when and how. His mother had already made lots of ideas on how its going to be or how its going to look but she needed her and her fiancee to choose. It wasn’t like every day she has this moment and Jimin was genuinely happy for her. He just didn’t like how his parents compared him to his siblings.

His mother had noticed Jimin’s act as she made a self note in her mind to talk to him after the gathering.

Once everyone had cleaned up and said their goodbyes, his mother had told him to stay for just a little bit longer due to her wanting to have a private chat with him. He had known already what his mother was going to talk to him about as to her always talking about her concerns of him not marring or at least going out to find new people.

“Honey, you look miserable.” his mother stopped him from walking out of the house as she held his wrist and pulled him.

“Im happy the way I am mother.” He didn't want to go through the same thing that he went through when we went over his parents house that is why he went rarely.

“It doesn't seem that way.” He had been sick of this conversation and his mother knew but she wanted him to be happy with someone and share love with them and have children with them as they shared a soul.

“You will be happier once you find your true love. just like the rest of your family.”

“Ill be fine father.” He said as he hugged them and drove off. He had first planed on going straight home but Jungkook and Jhope had texted him to meet in the dance studio to practice some dance moves.

“Cupid y/n you are assigned to a new assignment. You will be going next to your human and find his soulmate as it is time for him to get married.” He said as his face was glued to his board in his hand, marking off things that you didn’t know. “But he doesn’t want to get married, he wants to wa-” Your boss cut you off as he put his pen in front of your mouth. “I don’t care, he is ready to get married. Find. His. Soulmate.”

You bow slightly before your boss walked away, “You have an hour to get ready and meet me at the transporting station.” He screamed as he had his pen in the air and walking away from you. You looked up to see what time it was and ran straight to your cubical to get ready. You were more then excised to be able to go to the real world ad see your human face to face. You were wondering if he’d see you too, or if you were going to be invisible.

His house. You were going to his house. Wow you couldn’t believe it. Cupids only went to their humans homes only if there was trouble or the cupid had a promotion. You definitely weren't getting a promotion so their must have been something wrong with Park Jimin.

You had only seen it on the TV as it seemed surreal. It was a lie you had thought to yourself, or just a dream you are soon to wake up. You were going to your humans house. You didn’t know how he was going to react but you had been practicing your speech the second your boss had told you about it. As you made your way, making sure to tell your goodbyes to your friends as you weren’t going to see them again. You knew they would be able to see you but you were never going to see them again.

You were becoming a human, well a cupid in the real world.

“The rules are simple, You hear them all the time but its my job to repeat it to you so you wont do them. your required to fully understand, accept and agree to these Procedural Rules as if you don’t...” He paused for a moment before finishing his sentence. “You know the consequences. anyways.” He said before looking at you and then back to his clipboard that seems to never leave his arm.

As for the rules, There simple. There is $290 million dollars that will be give to you every two months. there is the keys to Jimins house. Make sure you know your human and make sure you listen to him when trying to find his true love. Once you are done with the assignment, you will be given knowledge of your new job or new human, You will choose. You can only communicate with me if there is an emergency or a confusion. You can’t tell your human about anything except that you are a cupid assigned to them to help find their true love. Nothing more, nothing less and for the most important one, You can’t return back to the cupid world.” He said as he looked back at your face to see if you got everything in your mind and ready to go. “Once you are done with your assignment, everything will still apply.”

You had only seen the portal once or twice as your friend had went through and never been seen again.

Now it was your turn.

You had stepped into the portal that had been spinning with rainbow mood color. You turned around to wave at them once again as they waved back at you.

Once you took another step, it felt like you hadn’t even been at the portal for a second as you had found yourself at what seemed to be Jimins living room.

You were nervous as you didn’t know when he was going to show up. You didn’t want to seem like a burglar or a creeper at his house and you still were reciting your speech for when he’d get home. You couldn't lie you were nervous to how he’d react. Maybe he wouldn’t even listen to and kick you out, maybe even go all the way to calling the cops or even throwing you to the trash, but you also knew how he was and how he wouldn’t do any of that.

You had been running around the house for hours to find a good position. You didn’t want to seem to creepy, you wanted to act normal but not to normal, well you couldn’t be normal.

Your mind was blown.

You were going crazy.

When he finally showed up, he was sweaty and tired, You could tell he wasn’t happy not only because you could read his mind, but because he was horrible at keeping his emotions away from his face. Once he closed the front door and dropped the keys he took off his shoes and jacket, placing then where they belonged. he seemed out of it, He seemed like he had a lack of care of what was going on.

“Welcome home.” You said in a calm voice, not wanting scare him or to break the calmness.

“Hello.” He said as he smiled and walked to the bathroom. You didn’t expect him to give you that kind of reaction. Though you were relieved, Maybe he knew you were coming. Maybe he-

But before you knew it he ran back to where you were with wide eyes and a metal thing in his hand, you didn’t know what it was.

“Who are you and why the hell are you in my house?” He said as he waited patiently to hear your response. Holding the metal thing high, ready to hit you with all force. You didn’t seem like you were there to kill him or rob him. you seemed sweet and nice, which kinda confused him.

You got up from your position and smiled at him widely.

“Hello, Im y/n and Im your personal cupid. Im here to help you.”

He had calmed down after your full explanation, Though you knew he didn’t believe you. After all, you could read him so clearly.

He got up from where he was sitting as he walked back and forth right in front of you. “So you are saying that you are a cupid, sent from above to help me find my so called ‘true love’? You can’t leave my side and wont give up until you find her for me. Once you find my true love you have two choices, you could either stay here and work, or you can go to another human to find their true love. You get so much money for no reason and you can’t see yourself in mirrors or photos. Though everyone sees you as a ‘normal’ person, even though you have ginormous white wings.” He started laughing at how crazy he sounded.

“Well after I put my wings away and wear normal clothing, then yes I will look ‘normal’. And I could only appear in picture if its required or necessary.”

He started laughing again. You didn’t know what was so funny about you helping him. Though him laughing made you laugh, In which he stopped right away.

He had thought of something in his mind. Even though he knew you knew what he was thinking, he still made the effort to say it out loud.

“How the hell will you know who my true love is?” He stopped right in front of you, waiting for you to answer. You could tell he wanted it. He wanted to be with someone, His heart demanded it. Though his mind told a different story, His mind wanted to worry about his future, then after his successes find a woman to love and share his life.

“Well Not only can I read peoples minds but I can also see this little symbol right on their heart. If its red then they’re not your true love, But if the symbol is green then bingo! we found her. And if you want, when we find her I can give you that power for 10 seconds to show you the symbol, to show you evidence.”

He had been staring at you blankly. Like you had been speaking nonsense though for you this was probably the fiftieth time you had said it before telling him.

You could tell he was trying hard to keep his eyes open, trying so hard to keep the conversation going. He still had many questions.

“Well, I should really get going now.” He looked at you, and you knew he was tired and didn’t want to keep him up. “Do you have a place to stay?” You didn’t answer him as you just looked down.

“I wouldn’t like to disturb you or intrude so i can go downstairs and sleep on the benches.” You smiled lightly, getting up from the couch, walking towards the door to leave. Though before you could, he ran to you, grabbing you arm and turned you around to face him to stop you from leaving. Though he let go of your arm right away, seeing your face so close and feeling your touch. “No, there is no need for you to do that. Besides its really cold. You could sleep in my bed, ill sleep on the couch.”

You were shocked by his words. You knew he was telling you the truth as he made sure to show you he was sincere.

So you smiled slightly before thanking him and walking to his bedroom. You asked him permission one more time before laying down and closing your eyes.

Though you couldn’t sleep, due to all the thoughts and questions that was going through his head all night.

It made you smile, because he had opened the door just to peek at you one more time, making sure you were real and that he wasn’t hallucinating due to his bad day. Though once he had found you lying down in bed, he couldn’t help but smile at your sleeping form. He found you adorable, and somehow even though you were so sweet and innocent- like, He was worried about you, maybe even afraid.

He then quickly closed the door and walked to the couch, closing his eyes and falling a sleep was the only thing that was on his mind other then his questions, though he knew that is all he could take for one day, after a day of craziness.

100317

[easyfoodnetwork]

Christian Puglisi Is Closing His Influential Copenhagen Restaurants. COVID Is Only Partly to Blame

Christian Puglisi

Christian Puglisi talks the end of Relæ and Manfreds, the problem with restaurant awards, and the future of Copenhagen dining

Two weeks ago, Copenhagen’s food scene was hit by major news: Noma’s sibling restaurant, the Michelin-starred 108, announced it would cease operations at the end of September due to the coronavirus pandemic. And last Friday, trailblazing chef and restaurateur Christian Puglisi added even more turmoil to the city’s restaurant industry when he announced that his two flagship restaurants, Relæ and Manfreds, will close by the end of the year. Their final services will take place December 19.

Along with Noma chef René Redzepi, Puglisi is a groundbreaking chef of new Nordic Cuisine, which turned Copenhagen into one of the world’s greatest dining destinations. These days, being a “Noma alum doing your own thing” is almost a cliche, but Puglisi was the first when he opened Relæ in 2010 in the residential neighborhood of Nørrebro. With his 100 percent organic menu, featuring dishes like sheep’s milk yogurt with beets and black currants, he became a trendsetter in a city known for setting dining trends. And when he opened Relæ’s follow-up Manfreds later the same year, Puglisi broke more rules by serving family-style plates and natural wines at what was ostensibly a high-level, fine dining restaurant.

Puglisi’s restaurants are less exalted than Noma on the international stage, but his approach to hyper-seasonal, organic cuisine influenced a generation of Copenhagen restaurants, and the closing of his first two restaurants signifies an end to a certain era of avant-garde defiance in the local food scene, even as it embraces other Puglisi influenced. (Puglisi’s three other restaurants — the bakery and restaurant Mirabelle; vermouth and snacks bar Rudo; and Bæst, an Italian restaurant with award-winning pizza — will remain open.) Eater spoke to Puglisi about how coronavirus factored into his decision — “of course my decision has to do with the pandemic,” he says, “but not for the evident reason that people would think” — and what the closing of Manfreds and Relæ mean for the current moment in Copenhagen, where diners are returning to fill tables, keeping some restaurants fully booked more than two weeks in advance.

Eater: Why did you decide to close Relæ and Manfreds?

Christian Puglisi: I like to see restaurant years like dog years. In this analogy, each year represents seven years in this industry — because they are very intense ones. In the first years, [the restaurant is] like a child; you really need to take care of raising it and shaping its character. But as it evolves, it grows without the need of your constant surveillance. And when your kids grow up, someday they move out. Of course, it’s sad, but it’s also the most beautiful thing.

Could I do more at the restaurants? Of course. But should I do more, do I have to? I don’t think so. Their evolution has been going on for longer than I ever expected, and I am very proud of it. Their time has come. We all have these big fears: What will I do, what are people going to think? But if you [consider] that people won’t probably give a shit in 50 years, it becomes so much easier.

Is it related to the novel coronavirus pandemic?

The first two weeks of lockdown were extremely emotional to me. I kept thinking, “Wow, tomorrow everything can be gone.” It gave me an absolutely liberating sensation that I could do things I would generally be afraid of. Closing the restaurants was one of them. I realized that I’ve been thinking about this for at least the last three years. It somehow started with the process of telling Jon [Jonathan Tam, Relæ’s cook since the restaurant’s opening] he would be head chef, so I could free myself from the day-to-day activities, focus on the farm and the idea of creating more synergies that seemed more exciting for me at the time. But still, there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t had a little bit of a guilty conscience for not being there, and that’s absurd.

Because of the lockdown, I realized that I could do this. If I was going to have to rebuild my life in this industry — and we all had an opportunity to do this — I didn’t want to rebuild it 100 percent like the life that I had before.

What does closing the two restaurants mean for the restaurant group as a whole?

We will focus on Bæst, Mirabelle, and Rudo. I’m going to spend more time on them and the farm. I realized that what I didn’t enjoy doing was drawing up projects, starting the project, and overseeing them rather than having a direct influence. When you have over 120 employees, this is hard. If you want to manage a big company, you probably need to spend the whole of your time managing a big company. You’re not free to do those [other] things unless you want to work 120 hours a week, which I find hard to convince myself to do. I was tired of spending my evenings trying to understand the next day. Now it feels like I can just go to work.

In recent years, you have publicly criticized the industry, especially in relation to the awards and rankings that have come to dominate it. How has this industry upset you?

I think that the way we have defined success in this industry has been upsetting because it plays on incredibly subjective things. The output of a restaurant cannot be defined in numbers or data like a game. It is based on the interaction between the sender and the receiver. It goes both ways. When you go to a restaurant, you are as much responsible for having a good experience as the restaurant is for providing it. That’s how I see it.

It can never become mathematics, because those values aren’t fixed or established. This deadly cocktail to me consists of mixing the most complicated thing — that is, the restaurant experience — with something that is hugely defined, which is sports and competition. If you run 100 meters, it’s obvious [how everyone ranks]. The team who won the league is the team who won the final game. But restaurants are not about this. Mixing those two ideas is completely fucking lunatic, and [this is what’s done by] the Michelin stars, the 50 Best. In general, this is reviewing that wants to create a sport from it, that wants people to participate without knowing how to win. The rules are defined day by day by people with subjective points of view.

But it is good to have recognition, isn’t it? Relæ, for example, was recognized by both Michelin and the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list.

There’s an incredible embodied narcissism in this industry that is extremely difficult to deal with. It’s extremely difficult because it’s tempting. We all have our egos, we all have an element of narcissism... We live in a world where recognition is as volatile as anything. And you have to understand that it’s not only a problem if people don’t like what you do, it’s also a problem when people really like what you do, because it fucks with you.

That’s why I’m really proud of what Relæ has always been, I said fuck everything. In the very beginning, I was extremely anti-everything. I didn’t want to have a Michelin star because I thought it was not the kind of restaurant we wanted to be. But then we did get a Michelin star. And I was crying from joy because this recognition was not based on me wanting to get a Michelin star and achieving it; it was being recognized for doing what I wanted to do.

The most important thing you can do when you’re in the 50 Best is enjoy it, because it’s not going to last. I saw many ambitious people [commit to] big investments to be on the list, only to fall 20 spots and lose everything. How can you let yourself be defined by 700, 900 people who [judge]? I think that is something this industry makes you look away from. It pulls you in with these ideas that you are a superstar because you’re cooking food.

What does the end of Relæ and Manfreds mean for this era of Copenhagen dining?

I think that, in all humility, Relæ and Manfreds will still live in the restaurants that keep coming to the city; I’ve seen the impact that they have caused on other local restaurants. Manfreds has had a significant impact compared to what people [originally thought] of food in this city: food to share, casual setting, vegetable-based dishes, the iconic tartare… they are everywhere [now], and I mean it. Two, three years ago, I would see this in restaurants, and I would be pissed off because they were my competition. But now — and I just literally realized it as I was telling the staff that we were closing — it struck me that I will go from being annoyed when I see these things, or from being in a situation where I feel that they’re taking something from us, to understanding when many say that when people copy what you do it’s a compliment. This is something that makes me proud.

On another level, I’m pleased by the many people who have worked for me and who will take these references and put their blend into it. And that’s also what I hope for the actual restaurant, since we have not decided what to do with those buildings. Either we will sell it to someone interested in buying it, or go into some business scenario where I’m just silently investing in some young talent that wants to bring it forward. That would be a good next chapter.

Rafael Tonon is a journalist and food writer living between Brazil and Portugal.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3hGBr7c https://ift.tt/2RD2FAS

Christian Puglisi

Christian Puglisi talks the end of Relæ and Manfreds, the problem with restaurant awards, and the future of Copenhagen dining

Two weeks ago, Copenhagen’s food scene was hit by major news: Noma’s sibling restaurant, the Michelin-starred 108, announced it would cease operations at the end of September due to the coronavirus pandemic. And last Friday, trailblazing chef and restaurateur Christian Puglisi added even more turmoil to the city’s restaurant industry when he announced that his two flagship restaurants, Relæ and Manfreds, will close by the end of the year. Their final services will take place December 19.

Along with Noma chef René Redzepi, Puglisi is a groundbreaking chef of new Nordic Cuisine, which turned Copenhagen into one of the world’s greatest dining destinations. These days, being a “Noma alum doing your own thing” is almost a cliche, but Puglisi was the first when he opened Relæ in 2010 in the residential neighborhood of Nørrebro. With his 100 percent organic menu, featuring dishes like sheep’s milk yogurt with beets and black currants, he became a trendsetter in a city known for setting dining trends. And when he opened Relæ’s follow-up Manfreds later the same year, Puglisi broke more rules by serving family-style plates and natural wines at what was ostensibly a high-level, fine dining restaurant.

Puglisi’s restaurants are less exalted than Noma on the international stage, but his approach to hyper-seasonal, organic cuisine influenced a generation of Copenhagen restaurants, and the closing of his first two restaurants signifies an end to a certain era of avant-garde defiance in the local food scene, even as it embraces other Puglisi influenced. (Puglisi’s three other restaurants — the bakery and restaurant Mirabelle; vermouth and snacks bar Rudo; and Bæst, an Italian restaurant with award-winning pizza — will remain open.) Eater spoke to Puglisi about how coronavirus factored into his decision — “of course my decision has to do with the pandemic,” he says, “but not for the evident reason that people would think” — and what the closing of Manfreds and Relæ mean for the current moment in Copenhagen, where diners are returning to fill tables, keeping some restaurants fully booked more than two weeks in advance.

Eater: Why did you decide to close Relæ and Manfreds?

Christian Puglisi: I like to see restaurant years like dog years. In this analogy, each year represents seven years in this industry — because they are very intense ones. In the first years, [the restaurant is] like a child; you really need to take care of raising it and shaping its character. But as it evolves, it grows without the need of your constant surveillance. And when your kids grow up, someday they move out. Of course, it’s sad, but it’s also the most beautiful thing.

Could I do more at the restaurants? Of course. But should I do more, do I have to? I don’t think so. Their evolution has been going on for longer than I ever expected, and I am very proud of it. Their time has come. We all have these big fears: What will I do, what are people going to think? But if you [consider] that people won’t probably give a shit in 50 years, it becomes so much easier.

Is it related to the novel coronavirus pandemic?

The first two weeks of lockdown were extremely emotional to me. I kept thinking, “Wow, tomorrow everything can be gone.” It gave me an absolutely liberating sensation that I could do things I would generally be afraid of. Closing the restaurants was one of them. I realized that I’ve been thinking about this for at least the last three years. It somehow started with the process of telling Jon [Jonathan Tam, Relæ’s cook since the restaurant’s opening] he would be head chef, so I could free myself from the day-to-day activities, focus on the farm and the idea of creating more synergies that seemed more exciting for me at the time. But still, there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t had a little bit of a guilty conscience for not being there, and that’s absurd.

Because of the lockdown, I realized that I could do this. If I was going to have to rebuild my life in this industry — and we all had an opportunity to do this — I didn’t want to rebuild it 100 percent like the life that I had before.

What does closing the two restaurants mean for the restaurant group as a whole?

We will focus on Bæst, Mirabelle, and Rudo. I’m going to spend more time on them and the farm. I realized that what I didn’t enjoy doing was drawing up projects, starting the project, and overseeing them rather than having a direct influence. When you have over 120 employees, this is hard. If you want to manage a big company, you probably need to spend the whole of your time managing a big company. You’re not free to do those [other] things unless you want to work 120 hours a week, which I find hard to convince myself to do. I was tired of spending my evenings trying to understand the next day. Now it feels like I can just go to work.

In recent years, you have publicly criticized the industry, especially in relation to the awards and rankings that have come to dominate it. How has this industry upset you?

I think that the way we have defined success in this industry has been upsetting because it plays on incredibly subjective things. The output of a restaurant cannot be defined in numbers or data like a game. It is based on the interaction between the sender and the receiver. It goes both ways. When you go to a restaurant, you are as much responsible for having a good experience as the restaurant is for providing it. That’s how I see it.

It can never become mathematics, because those values aren’t fixed or established. This deadly cocktail to me consists of mixing the most complicated thing — that is, the restaurant experience — with something that is hugely defined, which is sports and competition. If you run 100 meters, it’s obvious [how everyone ranks]. The team who won the league is the team who won the final game. But restaurants are not about this. Mixing those two ideas is completely fucking lunatic, and [this is what’s done by] the Michelin stars, the 50 Best. In general, this is reviewing that wants to create a sport from it, that wants people to participate without knowing how to win. The rules are defined day by day by people with subjective points of view.

But it is good to have recognition, isn’t it? Relæ, for example, was recognized by both Michelin and the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list.

There’s an incredible embodied narcissism in this industry that is extremely difficult to deal with. It’s extremely difficult because it’s tempting. We all have our egos, we all have an element of narcissism... We live in a world where recognition is as volatile as anything. And you have to understand that it’s not only a problem if people don’t like what you do, it’s also a problem when people really like what you do, because it fucks with you.

That’s why I’m really proud of what Relæ has always been, I said fuck everything. In the very beginning, I was extremely anti-everything. I didn’t want to have a Michelin star because I thought it was not the kind of restaurant we wanted to be. But then we did get a Michelin star. And I was crying from joy because this recognition was not based on me wanting to get a Michelin star and achieving it; it was being recognized for doing what I wanted to do.

The most important thing you can do when you’re in the 50 Best is enjoy it, because it’s not going to last. I saw many ambitious people [commit to] big investments to be on the list, only to fall 20 spots and lose everything. How can you let yourself be defined by 700, 900 people who [judge]? I think that is something this industry makes you look away from. It pulls you in with these ideas that you are a superstar because you’re cooking food.

What does the end of Relæ and Manfreds mean for this era of Copenhagen dining?

I think that, in all humility, Relæ and Manfreds will still live in the restaurants that keep coming to the city; I’ve seen the impact that they have caused on other local restaurants. Manfreds has had a significant impact compared to what people [originally thought] of food in this city: food to share, casual setting, vegetable-based dishes, the iconic tartare… they are everywhere [now], and I mean it. Two, three years ago, I would see this in restaurants, and I would be pissed off because they were my competition. But now — and I just literally realized it as I was telling the staff that we were closing — it struck me that I will go from being annoyed when I see these things, or from being in a situation where I feel that they’re taking something from us, to understanding when many say that when people copy what you do it’s a compliment. This is something that makes me proud.

On another level, I’m pleased by the many people who have worked for me and who will take these references and put their blend into it. And that’s also what I hope for the actual restaurant, since we have not decided what to do with those buildings. Either we will sell it to someone interested in buying it, or go into some business scenario where I’m just silently investing in some young talent that wants to bring it forward. That would be a good next chapter.

Rafael Tonon is a journalist and food writer living between Brazil and Portugal.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3hGBr7c via Blogger https://ift.tt/2FGMmk9

[ace-dameron]

What You’re Really Fighting For

Can also be found on my (very much bare and abandoned) AO3.

The Nephilim were born into a life of fighting, bred to be soldiers from the moment they entered the world. Shadowhunters trained and fought to maintain a weak semblance of peace while discontent brewed exponentially. They spent their entire lives constantly surrounded by arrogance, being fed rhetoric of their superiority to the Mundanes they sought to protect and to the lowly Downworlders. Their angelic blood supposedly meant something grand in the scheme of things, something that those of demonic blood couldn’t ever hope to achieve. 

Alec rolled his eyes as he set down the official Clave document he finished reviewing. His stomach churned uneasily from the thinly veiled hate for those who weren’t Shadowhunters. Similar documents had been landing on his desk more often than their usual daily occurrence with the buzz of a Downworld uprising on their hands. The Clave wasn’t necessarily hiding their plans to punish those who even thought of breaking the accords. And despite all of his current contempt for those in Idris, Alec couldn’t feign ignorance for he too held those prejudices for far too long and only begun stripping himself of such ugly thoughts after Magnus entered his life.

His breath hitched before he leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretching out to where his feet brushed against the front panel of the desk. The thought of Magnus hollowed him out, leaving an ache only subdued by falling in line with his birthright. Alec needed to be the leader that his kind needed, the emotionless and headstrong soldier he had been before all of this had happened. Would it stop him from scoffing at outlandish comments about downworlders? No, of course not. But at this point, distraction was key. Distraction made his mind stop wandering to morning kisses to his chest as the beautiful man draped across him slowly awoke. It made it bearable to rise one day after another in a cold, sterile bedroom he had once thought to be idealistic. No frills or fuss, just a bed, a dresser for his things, and a desk. The first time he had been in the loft, it seemed almost gaudy to his senses, but it had quickly become home. No, Magnus had become his home.

He knew they would find their way back to each other again, drift into what they were when things settled. Two people who loved each other as much as they did would always fall back into place, side by side. 

A soft throat clearing from the door drew him back into the present, away from his memories. (He hated that all he currently had were memories.)

Izzy came into the office, a folder in her hands. Alec held open his hand to accept it but she wrenched it back, maneuvering it behind her back. “Not until you talk to me. You can convince everyone else that you’re fine and they’ll buy it or respect your privacy, but this is getting ridiculous, Alec. It’s been weeks.”

Alec heaved a sigh, giving Izzy a look reserved specifically for her when she was pushing boundaries. “Like I told you before, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“I told you to not let him push you away. And that’s exactly what you’re allowing to happen.” Her accusatory tone diminished as the concern in her eyes shone through. Naturally, his sister had his best interest at heart, but she didn’t understand that Alec didn’t want to continuously think about what transpired.

Alec clenched his jaw, drawing in a breath as he unwillingly found himself thinking about that night again. The desperation he felt as Magnus told him that he couldn’t have both Alec and the ability to lead his people. In that moment, nothing made sense and perhaps, nothing still did. Nothing but throwing himself into his work, quelling his desire to take off in a sprint across the city until he reached that familiar building, not stopping even after a burning sensation set into both his lungs and legs until he could see Magnus somewhere other than his dreams.

He stood up, more to steady himself than to seem intimidating, “There’s a war brewing and whether we’ll be able to pull together the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders to defeat Valentine and Sebastian or not, there is still going to be war. As simple as it should be, it isn’t. Our biases concerning each other are still heavily looked down upon. There’s so much stacked against us and our relationship.” He licked his lips, looking down briefly, trying to hide whatever flicker of hurt he knew was there. “You can’t deny that. He may have made the decision, but I am upholding it because he’s right. Right now, we can’t have each other and command of our people.” Weeks of stony silence, not even so much as the smallest text or even a blip of Magnus on his extended radar left Alec to rely on his common sense. They were doing the right thing for the right reasons. The distance and the silence and the loneliness, it was all for the right reasons in the end. Even if this all felt alienating and wrong whenever he sat long enough to let their most intimate moments invade his mind, letting emotion cloud his judgment wouldn’t change anything. 

Isabelle handed over the folder, her expression unreadable as she headed toward the door. “Just don’t close yourself off, Alec. Focus is excellent, but don’t forget what you’re really fighting for.” Her words echoed in his ears long after the clicking of her heels in the hallway vanished.

He knew why he was fighting. To assure the survival of the Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike. Placing the folder down, he dove into work again, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him to stop oversimplifying things.

The relative stillness erupted into chaos in a matter of days. Despite all of their training and preparation, a nervousness settled into Alec’s bones as they geared up as quickly as they could. Perhaps, fear described the situation better; fear that their fighters wouldn’t be enough, fear the Downworlders wouldn’t aid them. Realistically, they had no reason to, but this city belonged to them as much as it did the Shadowhunters.  

Another fear remained in the forefront of his mind, taunting him with a chest-tightening anxiety. Of course, the loss of his siblings had been a constant for years now, any time they went out to battle demons. But even as he glanced around the room at Izzy and Jace, his mind drifted to another person and time.

Magnus laughed, but the fondness in his expression kept Alec’s embarrassment almost at bay. Almost. The redness trickled into his cheeks as his head ducked in its usual manner. 

“You needn’t worry about me like that ever, Alexander. I could decimate a demon while giving myself a manicure.” The playfulness did little to curb the worry Alec had when concerning Magnus’s well-being. High Warlock of Brooklyn or not, Alec loved him. Cared about his well-being above his own, which wasn’t unusual for Alec with those that he loved. 

“I can’t just not worry.” Alec gesticulated as he spoke until Magnus scooted closer on the couch in one smooth motion, covering his hands with his own, steadying them.

Magnus leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to his lips, “I know. You’ll be gray before long.” He teased, his eyes glancing up as if to look for those hairs. 

“Hey,” Alec said with a warning tone and a screwed up expression, trying to keep a smile at bay.

“Never fear, darling, you’ll definitely be a silver fox.” Magnus laughed at the confused expression Alec gave him before leaning in once more for a kiss. “I always appreciate your concern. But I’ve survived for a very long time.” The wistfulness seeping into his tone seemed to speak both of the time Magnus lived before Alec and probable time he’d live long after Alec was gone.

They had avoided the immortality talk mostly and Alec didn’t relish having it now. Not with the chances of a war in the imminent future. They needed to survive all of the death and destruction that would surround them in the upcoming months. Then he’d worry about grays and wrinkles and all of the things that came as one aged and all of the things that came with having a lover who didn’t. 

“Still going to worry.” Alec grumbled a bit before pouncing on him, tackling him down into the couch and attacking him with open-mouthed kisses.

As Magnus’s fingers tangled up in his hair, tugging ever so slightly, Alec could have sworn he heard a breathy ‘thank you’ among the appreciative noises. 

Alec shook his head, pushing away the memories of what he considered an easier time as he adjusted the placement of his quiver. 

Magnus would be out there. Even if the rest of the Downworlders turned their backs to what was happening, Magnus would be there. The thought both terrified and exhilarated him. 

He jerked his head toward the door when all of the movement in the room stopped and everyone filed out of the room, nothing heard other than the quick movement of feet as they rushed to head into the streets of the city. 

They encountered their first pack of demons merely two blocks from the Institute. Alec quickly reached for an arrow, aiming for a demon and making the first kill before the rest of them rushed past him, preferred weapons raised and ready to strike. In quick succession, Alec launched his arrows in the direction of demons, feeling nothing as they disintegrated into charred ash. When the amount of demons seemed more manageable, Alec took a group of Shadowhunters with him deeper into the city, following the screams of unknowing Mundanes.

Magnus’s presence was felt long before Alec spotted him, the glow of his cat eyes somehow brighter than the red, angry magic flowing from his fingertips. The demons kept charging in and the constant flow of magic just kept coming, ticking them off in groups at a time. It was mesmerizing; seeing Magnus’s power always was. 

Sometimes, Alec unintentionally forgot all of the power Magnus possessed. When they were soft and sleepy with tangled up limbs after what was proclaimed as the best sex of their relationship (an ongoing ruse after every time they made love), when they were so entirely mundane, he’d forget the power the man beside him had within him.

Alec shot an arrow into a demon mere feet from Magnus when his magic wavered in the slightest bit. Whether the cessation was from exhaustion or from the challenge of letting the demons in closer before sending them back to hell, Alec couldn’t tell. Their eyes met despite the hundred or so meters that separated them. Alec felt his lips quirk upward into a smirk despite himself before shooting off more arrows, feeling more alive than he had in weeks. At some point, they wound up in close proximity, Magnus’s buzzing around him as he concentrated on taking out their common enemy one arrow at a time. 

It could have been hours or merely minutes before the demons were gone, just piles of ash standing in their place. Alec didn’t realize they were standing nearly back to back until Magnus slumped against him in the slightest. 

“Are you okay?” Alec murmured only loud enough for Magnus’s ears. 

The responding laugh, one colored with exhaustion and fondness was all the answer he needed. 

As they stood, back to back, without another word being spoken, Izzy’s words came back to him. ‘Don’t forget what you’re really fighting for.’ He was fighting for this, this right here. The privilege of being beside Magnus after a long tiring fight, whether it be a physical one or otherwise. 

Alec mumbled, as he turned around, placing a hand on Magnus’s shoulder, “There will always be a war. A mission. A problem to solve. Look, I speak from experience. If you fail to grant time for the things you care about, you’ll forget why you’re even fighting at all.” Magnus’s words to him all of those weeks ago flowed from his lips effortlessly.

“Alexander…” Magnus’s tone sounded weary as he turned around, no glamour to hide his eyes.

“I’m fighting for you–” He stopped short, feeling frustration like he always did when he felt his words wouldn’t suffice. “For us.” Testing the waters, he reached up and cupped Magnus’s face. When he didn’t flinch or pull away, Alec brushed his thumb along his jaw. “When I’m out here, I am doing whatever I can to ensure our future together. When I’m at the Institute, the same applies. Is it selfish? Ye–”

“No.” Magnus cut him off, his expression soft. “It isn’t selfish. Everyone has a motivation for why they fight. Selfish would be not fighting, not taking charge of the situation, not standing up for what you believe in. You’re anything but selfish, Alexander.”

Alec leaned in, forgetting that other people existed, let alone were still milling around, and pressed his forehead against Magnus’s, looking into his eyes, “I’ve missed you.”

“Have you?” Classic Magnus, flirty and playful. He closed his eyes and sobered, “I’ve missed you too.” Magnus closed the space between their lips, leading them into a slow, careful kiss as if they were new lovers once more. Just like the battle, that kiss could have lasted minutes or hours. Alec’s perception of time didn’t exist whenever Magnus was near. 

“Come home with me, Alexander.” Magnus whispered after they broke the kiss, their lips only centimeters apart. “I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I can’t promise things will resume normalcy yet, but I can offer tonight.”

It was progress. And if it was only for the night, it would be more memories to hold Alec through until tomorrow could be promised. “Let’s go home, Magnus.”

Sliding his hand into Magnus’s, they took the long way back to the loft. 

[wendynerdwrites]

Cinder-Jaehaerys

@speisla

AU Cinderella!Jon and CharmingPrincess!Sansa xD

I FUCKING LOVED THIS ONE!

Jaehaerys:

He ends up where he always does: crouching by the hearth, covered in ashes. He tries not to close his eyes. Every time he does, he sees the cruel, purple eyes of his older brother, Aegon, and Uncle Viserys as they tear apart his doublet. Father just watched them do it.

Father promised that if Jaehaerys made himself some suitable clothes for the grand ball, he’d be able to go to his cousins’ festival. “Disappointment” and “half-a-bastard” though he may be, he’s still technically as much a prince as Aegon or Viserys. His father liked to blame Jaehaerys for House Targaryen losing control of Westeros, for the rebellion that split the Seven Kingdoms back into sovereign nations. It was, after all, the kidnapping of Jaehaerys’s mother that sparked the rebellion. Rhaegar Targaryen, his kingdom reduced to Dragonstone and part of the old “Crownlands”, claimed that if Jaehaerys had been born a girl, he’d have completed the prophecy that would have brought the dragons--- and, by extension, Targaryen dominance--- back. They also blamed Jaehaerys for Princess Elia, his father’s first wife and mother to Aegon, leaving with all the remaining Targaryen women.

It’s an idea many of the remaining Targaryens are eager to believe, and thus, it’s been Jaehaerys’s lot in life to serve as the scapegoat and servant to his once-mighty, but impoverished family.

This, though… This might have been his chance. His Stark Uncle, the King in the North, had announced a weeklong festival in honor of his eldest daughter’s sixteenth Name Day. Princess Sansa was named heir apparent to her father’s throne after her older brother, Prince Robb, abdicated to elope with a girl from the Westerlands. Of the various kingdoms of Westeros, the North was the largest, nearly the size of all the other kingdoms combined. On top of that, she was connected by blood to the King of the Trident and the Crown Prince of the Vale of Arryn.

The King of Winter invited every high-ranking House in Westeros to attend, and rumors were that he was looking for a suitor to win his daughter’s heart. Any man who won the princess would secure his family an unprecedented alliance for his House.

Jaehaerys isn’t so vain to think he could make the princess fall in love with him. Unlike his brother, uncle, and father, he lacks the valyrian beauty of House Targaryen. His eyes are a dark grey, instead of violet, and his hair is not silver-gold, but dark brown. He has a long, solemn face and according to his father, has none of the fire of a true Targaryen, just the cinders of lost greatness.

But he’d hoped to at least speak to his Stark cousins, perhaps get them to take pity on him and take him in. By all accounts, the Starks are kind, honorable people. And Jaehaerys believed he might have a chance of a life with them should he charm his uncle or cousins. Father would not refuse a request from the King of Winter, surely.

His father promised to take Jaehaerys if he could come up with an outfit fine enough to wear to the grand festival ball.

So Jaehaerys had stayed up as late as he could, constructing fine clothes from his brother and uncles’ castoffs, desperate to get to Winterfell.

He’d made himself an outfit of charcoal lamb’s wool trimmed in scarlet satin. A mix of Stark and Targaryen colors, that wouldn’t show any smudges of ash. 

But when he came down to the courtyard in his new finery, it took merely three seconds for Viserys to notice that the trim of Jaehaerys’s clothes came from an old robe of his. Aegon quickly joined in, noting that the lamb’s wool had come from a cape and a cloak.

“You’re a bloody thief!”

In seconds, Jaehaerys’s handiwork was in tatters, and his family was laughing at him.

Jaehaerys ran off, away to his cell. He’ll never get away from here, he’ll always be the bastard prince.

He curls himself into a ball beneath his threadbare covers and tries to disappear. 

When there’s a knock on his door, he shouts for whoever it is to go away. His father’s servants have always been kind to him. After all, he’s one of them. But he’s in no mood for comfort right now.

Usually, his friends are good about understanding such things, but this time, it seems, they won’t let him wallow. He hears a click and the door opens. But it’s an unfamiliar, feminine voice that speaks. 

“Raise your head and dry your tears, Nephew. You’re going to the festival.”

Jaehaerys does raise his head, only to find before him a woman he’s never seen before. Yet it takes him about half a second to realize who she must be. She’s beautiful, with bronzed skin, silver-gold hair, and amethyst eyes: the tell-tale traits of a Targaryen. 

“You… You are---”

“I’m your Aunt Daenerys, and I’m about to make your every wish come true.”

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Sansa:

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She’d spent much of her life looking forward to her coming-of-age ball. The event that would announce to the world that she is a woman grown. A grand party for her, with guests from all corners of the world, music, dancing…

It was never supposed to come with so much pressure. Sure, her father had changed the laws at her birth to do away with gender preference in the line of succession, making Sansa second-in-line, but that was all she was ever supposed to be: second in line. Robb was strong, clever, good, and three years older than her. He was the heir, with all the pressures and responsibilities that entailed. She was the spare, the one with freedom. Not as much as her younger siblings, perhaps, since she was raised in much the same way Robb was, but certainly more choices than her older brother.

Then Robb had to go and decide that he was the Prince of the Dragonflies born again and run off with the Westerling girl.

Now Sansa is heir, and the future of the Stark line. And instead of her coming-of-age being an era of freedom and romance, it’s to be one of responsibility and obligation.

The Stark line has to be secured. And she is notoriously unattached.

As Crown Princess, she cannot afford to merely flirt and enjoy her special day. No, this is to be the step in one long, laborious process of finding a consort to help her rule the North some day.

Her older brother is unsympathetic. “Come now, Sansa, deep down, we both know you’re more suited for this than I am. You want this.”

Perhaps he’s right, in a way. Sansa’s always had a certain enthusiasm for matters of state. But did her brother have to saddle her with this before her coming-of-age ball?

Sansa winces as her seamstress pulls her gown even tighter. “Do you have to strangle me?!” She snaps. 

“We only want to show your figure to its best advantage, my princess,” the woman replies.

“I have a small waist already, you said so yourself!” Sansa points out, “How much more narrow does it need to be?”

“They’re only trying to give you the most fetching silhouette, Darling,” Mother says, sitting by the full-length mirror.

“Why bother?” Sansa asks, “I could be fat as a house and the whole court would still be tripping over themselves to earn my favor.”

Queen Catelyn sighs. “She’s right. Minnie, let it out. It’s not as if she needs the help.” 

Sansa smiles at her mother, grateful. “Thank you, Mother. Besides, how am I to choose my future consort wisely if the oxygen to my brain is cut off?”

Catelyn sighs. “We don’t expect you to choose your husband-- 

“--In one week, yes, but you hope I will,” Sansa replies, “That I’ll lose my heart to one of your suitable, high-born guests, and not the grandchild of some foreign merchant.”

The mother and daughter look into one another’s eyes. Finally, Queen Catelyn sighs. 

“Yes, Sansa. That’s exactly what we hope.”

The princess tries to ignore the crushing disappointment of hearing her mother say it out loud. She looks away from Catelyn and over at her wolf, instead. Lady hops to her feet and pads over to her mistress. Sansa scratches her ears affectionately.

“Well, maybe I should let Lady choose for me. She’s always been good at identifying who is false and who is true.” 

Her mother groans. “Sansa…” 

“Or better yet,” Sansa adds, “Maybe I should unleash Ghost onto the guests. Whatever man can tame our bastard wolf wins my hand!”

“Keep talking like that, and your father will order that monster’s death,” Catelyn warns.

“If Father does such a thing, I’ll run off and marry the pig-boy!” Sansa threatens, “Then you’ll have Arya as your heir!” 

Her sister is rebellion incarnate, and would probably abolish the monarchy the moment the crown touched her head. She is their Aunt Lyanna born again. 

“Don’t even joke about such things,” Catelyn warns.

“Don’t make threats,” Sansa shoots back. Ghost is supposed to be Jaehaerys’s wolf. And this was their chance to finally meet their cousin. She would not present their poor, long lost relation without his wolf.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Jaehaerys:

He still can’t believe this. He’s flying. Truly flying. 

“How is this possible?” He asks his aunt as he clings to her. 

Daenerys grins. “Turns out the ‘Prince Who Was Promised’ was a princess all along.”

Jaehaerys’s stomach does a flip. “So I wasn’t the death of House Targaryen’s hopes!”

“Rhaegar is a pea-brained fool,” Daenerys replies, “Why do you think Elia ran off like she did? Why do you think she took us with her? She truly loved him, you know. But she saw what a shit he was, and she wasn’t going to let him destroy us all.” 

Jaehaerys runs his fingers against Drogon’s glittering scales. “So all this time, you’ve been in Dorne, with these dragons?”

“You’d be surprised how much you can hide in a desert,” Daenerys tells him, “You think we were going to let Rhaegar find out?”

She has a point. Still, Jaehaerys isn’t so easily won. Daenerys came to him with finery and promises, but there’s always a condition.

“Why are you helping me, then? I’m Rhaegar’s son!”

“Because you’re a Stark, and I want the Kingdom of Winter on my side when I build my new empire.”

That… That is far more honesty than Jaehaerys ever expected.

“So what, you expect me to seduce my cousin?”

“No, just form a connection with her entire family and eventually channel your influence into getting them to support me. We both have a lot to gain here, Nephew. Given the state my brothers and yours left you in, the sooner you’re free of those entitled shits, the better.” 

Jaehaerys swallows. So he’s a pawn. He’d ask about the consequences of not filling that role, but he’s too far into the air and too smart to suggest such a thing.

“How do you expect Father will react when he sees me at the festival?”

“You’re not going to attend as Jaehaerys Targaryen,” Daenerys replies, “You’re going as Prince Jon of Dorne. Prince Trystane is too young, so you’ll be going in his place. You’ll grow a beard and be outfitted in enough finery that there’s no way they’ll recognize you.” 

It’s a testament to his relationship with his family that he doesn’t doubt this.

“And how exactly am I to use my Stark connections if they think I’m a Martell?”

“You’ll tell them the truth at the end of the festival.” 

“And they’re going to trust me after I’ve spent a week lying to them?” Jon demands. 

Daenerys turns her head. “Seven Hells, Nephew, you really don’t know, do you?”

“Don’t know what?”

“The Starks have been trying to retrieve you since you were born.”

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~ 

Sansa:

Not even her mother matches her skills in faking enthusiasm. Today is proof of that, as even her queenly mother has begun looking bored while receiving their hundreds of guests. 

Sansa, though, keeps her smile bright and her eyes wide as she greets each noble and thanks them for attending. She’s been doing the same thing for hours now. The line of attendees seems never ending.

Her heart skips a beat when the Targaryen banner comes into view. At long last, they’re here!

She swallows her impatience in receiving the guests ahead of them. And it’s her restraint that makes the disappointment so much worse when she catches sight of the Targaryen party. Three men, not four, all of them silver-haired. But perhaps-- 

“Presenting His Grace Rhaegar, First of His Name, of House Targaryen, King of Dragonstone, his son, Crown Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, and the king’s brother, Prince Viserys of House Targaryen.”

Sansa’s crushed. She can’t imagine how Arya, Bran, and Rickon will react when she tells them. Her smile nearly slips.

“An honor, Good Princes,” she says once they’ve greeted her parents. “But I must ask, could our cousin, Prince Jaehaerys not accompany you? We hope he’s not unwell.”

Prince Viserys slinks forward and grins, “Such a kind, considerate heart. Is it any wonder your name means ‘Charm’? My nephew merely preferred to remain behind and govern our lands in our absence. But he sends his best.”

Sansa tries not to shudder as the prince presses a kiss to her hand. Her heart sinks.

Perhaps the Targaryens have been telling the truth all of these years, perhaps Jaehaerys really doesn’t want to be with them…

The one bright spot in all of this is now gone. Sansa feels her spirit sink.

King Rhaegar is about to speak, when all of a sudden, an ear-splitting shriek rips through the sky. Sansa looks upward. Her jaw drops.

It’s a dragon, and it’s heading right for them.

~_~_~_~_~

Jaehaerys: 

He has to give his aunt credit, she definitely knows how to make an entrance. A bold one, too, as she has them swoop down just as his father, brother, and uncle are going through their introductions.

Jaehaerys keeps his eyes on the ground as they land, hoping his velvet cap and new beard might be enough to keep his family from recognizing him. He’s terrified, just seeing them again. As he and Daenerys alight from Drogon’s back, he half-expects Aegon and Viserys to run towards him and tear his clothing off again. 

He lets his aunt take the lead. She sweeps towards the Starks and makes a grand curtsey. “Your Graces, it is an honor. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and Mother of Dragons.” 

“HOW---?!” Father shouts, speaking for everyone, if their expressions are anything to go by. Every eye is glued to Drogon.

“Dear Brother!” Daenerys embraces Rhaegar, ignoring the question. “Other brother! Nephew! How lovely to see you!”

Jaehaerys realizes her game now. They’re all so focussed on the dragon, they won’t take much notice of him. No one ever notices him, though. So why should he be surprised?

No one ever notices him… Until now. There’s one person not staring at Drogon. Jaehaerys looks up to meet two large, sapphire eyes gazing upon him. The most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, attached to the most beautiful everything else he’s ever seen.

Her face is not only clear, creamy, and delicate, it’s kind. Her hair is a waterfall of auburn silk. And she holds herself with a natural grace and elegance. Jaehaerys’s mouth goes dry.

“And, of course, allow me to present my cousin, Prince Jon of Dorne!”

The King of Winter is a stern-looking man with greying brown hair and silvery eyes. The queen is a beautiful redhead with a calm disposition. Jaehaerys bows to them. “Your Graces.” 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Jon,” Queen Catelyn says kindly, “Allow us to present our daughter, Princess Sansa.”

Jaehaerys almost faints when she smiles at him and extends her hand for him to kiss. But he reminds himself that he’s not Jaehaerys anymore, he’s Prince Jon, and he ought to act like it.

He presses his lips to the back of her hand, inhaling a fresh, lemony scent, and looks up at her, a smile spreading across his lips. He can’t help it. “Dear Princess,” he hears himself say in a voice far too confident, too bold to be his own, “I flew here with my cousin with many pleasantries prepared, but I confess I’ve forgotten them all in your presence. Perhaps it is for the better, though. Meeting you at last, I am compelled to offer you only the sincerity you deserve. Forgive me for ever thinking rehearsed charms were worthy of you.”

Where did that come from? He sounded like one of those dashing heroes he read about in the castle library.  But these words just flow from him. And with them, his fear of his father, uncle, and brother. Princess Sansa’s fixed smile softens to something genuine and it fills him with a rush of excitement and confidence he’s never known before. 

Looking at her, he feels like a hero from a story. A story all his own. The story of Prince Jon, not Jaehaerys of the dragon cinders.

A blush rises to her cheeks. It’s beautiful. “I’d heard the Dornish possessed a certain charm, but I confess, this is something altogether different than what I’ve seen from Ambassador Blackmont.”

“I merely speak the words you inspire, Princess.” 

It’s the truth, and he can tell that she knows this.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Sansa:

“May I have the first dance, Princess?”

She’d arranged for the Targaryens to be seated closer out of hope that they’d bring cousin Jaehaerys. The result is that oily Prince Viserys being the first among the guests to reach her. 

Jeyne and Beth think Viserys is handsome. Sansa doesn’t like the hungry look in his purple eyes. 

But she feels compelled to agree. Rejecting such a high-ranking guest so quickly, so publicly would cause an incident. Reluctantly, she grants him the first dance. 

He doesn’t let go of her when a new song begins. When she tries to pull away, he pulls her to him more tightly.

“You’re so shy,” he remarks, “So sweet, so dutiful. A vision of virtue.”

It takes all her self control not to roll her eyes at this. Clearly, he’s not going to let go so easily.

She thinks quickly and pretends to be charmed by him. When they sway past the band, she leans out and calls to Victen, the band leader, “The Blizzard Reel!”

A northern dance that will surely knock this wannabe dragon on his arse. Sure enough, after a few minutes, the Blizzard Reel starts up.

Unfortunately, Viserys manages to keep up better than expected. “So the winter princess has some fire in her after all!” 

She’s ready to gag when she’s swept up by another male dancer. Her heart skips a beat.

It’s Jon, the Dornish prince.

 “Are you in need of rescue, Madam?”

“Yes,” she says.

He nods. “Next partner change, then.”

She’s in Viserys’s arms again, but the reel calls for a passing of partners. And before long, she’s in the arms of the Dornish prince again. The two of them spin and turn, well out of bounds to the sidelines. He releases her, but Sansa continues to hold onto his doublet, and drags him out of the ballroom and into the hall.

“I wouldn’t expect a Dornishman to be so skilled in a Northern dance!” She remarks, truly grateful.

Prince Jon blushes. “To be honest, I was guessing the whole way through.”

“Really?” She can barely believe it. “Then why---?”

“I saw you with Prince Viserys. I wanted to help you.”

“I take it my instincts about him are correct, then,” Sansa replies, looking the prince up and down, “He does not seem a kind or honorable sort.” 

“There’s a reason my Aunt Elia fled the Red Keep as she did,” Prince Jon says, “Prince Viserys was only a boy at the time, but he showed every sign of being as cruel and selfish as his father. Everything we’ve heard since only confirms it. He is a foul man, Princess Sansa. Prince Aegon and King Rhaegar are no better.”

Sansa’s heart skips a beat. “And my cousin? Prince Jaehaerys? What have you heard of him?” 

Prince Jon hesitates. “He… He does not live a happy life, Princess.”

Sansa clenches her teeth and fists. “I knew it. He’s kept away by that knave Rhaegar, just as my Aunt Lyanna was.” Her heart breaks for poor Jaehaerys. So alone. Living amongst such foul, cruel men. Motherless, with a villain for a father. Her eyes well up with tears. “He should be here, with us.” 

“You… You care much for your cousin, Princess?”

Sansa looks up. “Of course. Rhaegar stole my Aunt Lyanna, raped her. She died bringing my cousin into the world. The Seven Kingdoms split apart to end the tyranny of the Targaryens. But my father never got to save his sister. Jaehaerys is all we have left. And our family will never be complete until we get him back. And to be raised among such people…” She shudders. 

A handkerchief appear before her. Prince Jon’s face is kind. “Do not fret, Princess Sansa. There may be hope for your cousin, yet. I’m sure he’s a strong man. After all, he’s a Stark, like you.”

Sansa can’t help but smile. “Indeed. There’s even a wolf waiting for him here.”

 “...Pardon?”

Sansa wipes her eyes with the kerchief. “A direwolf. Several years ago, my brothers found a dead direwolf in the woods. A true direwolf hasn’t been seen south of the Wall in centuries, mind you. But here she was, recently killed, but with six pups still trying to nurse from her. Four were male, two female. One of the male ones was an albino. Silver-gold fur, like a Targaryen. My brothers brought the pups home, and we each took one. We’re closer to our wolves than anyone or anything. But the albino one has always been the odd one out. He’s wild. He only behaves himself around myself or my siblings. And we’ve always known that he’s meant for our cousin, Jaehaerys.” She hangs her head. “It probably sounds mad to an outsider, I know…”

“...That’s… That’s beautiful. And you’ve been raising this wolf all this time?”

Sansa nods. “He’s wild. They’ve wanted to put him down many times, but we won’t let them.” 

“Sansa… That…. I…”

But before he can say anything more, they’re interrupted by the appearance of Princess Daenerys.

“Jon, I need you.”

~_~_~_~_~

Jon:

He glares his aunt as she rails against him. “What if Rhaegar or Viserys overheard you?!”

“Let them,” he retorts, “I don’t see why she shouldn’t know. My family has been trying to get me back for years. They’ll protect me.”

“Not if your other family gets to you first! Trust me, Jaehaerys, you want them far away before anyone knows who you truly are. Do you honestly think they won’t do anything possible to gain leverage over the Starks? Over me? All I ask, Nephew, is that you stick to the plan!” 

He sighs and looks at Daenerys. She’s done so much for him, and he owes her that much. “Fine. But… Aunt Daenerys…”

“...What?”

He groans. “I think I’m in love with her. And I’m not sure I can lie to her.”

Daenerys groans. “For pity’s sake! You’ve spent your entire life holed up in Dragonstone! How could you possibly know what love is?!”

“Easy. It’s everything I’ve ever been denied,” Jon answers, “And I feel it when I’m with her.” 

His aunt groans. “Fine. Love her. Woo her. That’s fine. But if she truly loves you back, she’ll understand a week of deceit.”

“Why should she?” Jon asks. “She deserves better.” 

“Because you’re the prince in the tower, Jaehaerys. Because we all deserve better. And if she’s the girl you think she is, she’ll understand.” 

Daenerys sits beside him, and places a warm hand on his shoulder. “It’s just a week, Jaehaerys, I promise.” 

He frowns. “Very well, on one condition.”

“What?”

“Don’t call me ‘Jaehaerys’ again. That’s the name Rhaegar gave me. I’m not going to be his victim anymore. I’m Jon now.”

Daenerys smiles. “Very well, Jon.”

Jon is not the tattered, ashen, half-bastard. Jon is the man who loves Sansa, who is a Stark, who can stand up to Rhaegar, Viserys, and Aegon. Jon is the prince in Winterfell, not the boy he left behind in the cinders of Dragonstone.

The week carries on, and Prince Jon scores victories. Sansa gives him her favor for the tourney. Jaehaerys was trained in combat and jousting, as Rhaegar refused to allow any of his sons to be “weaklings”, even the half-bastard ones. He was never as good as Aegon, though. 

But Jaehaerys is gone. And Prince Jon isn’t afraid of his older brother, or his uncle, or even his father. He faces Rhaegar in the finals, and the terror Jaehaerys always felt under the violet eyes of Rhaegar Targaryen melts away. Jaehaerys’s knowledge of Rhaegar, however, doesn’t. Jon knows Rhaegar’s weaknesses, and he has the courage to use that knowledge. After three tilts, he unhorses his father.

Prince Jon presents the princess with a crown of Winter Roses as Rhaegar Targaryen marches from the field furiously.

He claims the first dance from Princess Sansa, and when she retires, she slips him a note to meet her in the godswood.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Sansa:

She’s not a fool. She’s noted the changes in Ghost’s demeanor. She’s come to realize that ‘Prince Jon’ is too pale to be a Martell, to comfortable in the Northern climate, and that he bears more of a resemblance to her father than to any Dornishman she’s ever met. 

And Gods, does she hope she’s right. 

So she brings Ghost and Lady to the godswood. And she waits. And waits. There’s a rustling in the bushes, then a cry.

Ghost jumps to his feet and runs for the clearing. Horrified, Sansa takes off after the wolf, Lady following.

She can barely make things out in such darkness, but two men struggle to subdue another. Ghost charges forward, sinking his jaws into the arm of one of the attacking men. 

“SANSA!”

Jon’s voice. But before she can do anything, a blinding pain pierces her shoulder. Sansa sinks to the ground, stunned.

It’s an arrow, she’s been shot.

She hears Jon’s voice again. “GHOST! PROTECT SANSA!”

“NO!” She screams, trying to get close to Jon. “STOP!”

Another arrow hits her. Then one hits Lady. Sansa screams.

The world goes black. 

~_~_~_~_~_ 

Jon:

They give him something to keep him from struggling, and before he knows it, he’s waking in a dark room, bound to a chair. 

His eyes are barely open when the first blow comes, striking him across the face.

“Tell us about the dragons.”

Jon looks up at the cruel, purple eyes. “Is that why I’m alive, Uncle?”

Viserys glares. “That’s why you’re alive for now. And the sooner you tell us what we need to know, the easier your death shall be.” 

Jon glares. “You’ve always been a sadist, Viserys. But you’ve never been particularly bright. I’ve grown up with you, remember? How many times did you make promises to me, then break them? I’ve always been your plaything. There’s nothing to stop you from torturing me, regardless of what I tell you.”

His uncle howls and strikes him again. Jon feels his right eye begin to swell.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF MY SON!”

His father is like a giant bat, descending upon them. Rhaegar comes closer, shoving Viserys aside.

 The world goes dark again. He wakes in a soft, warm bed. Rhaegar sits at his bedside, smiling down at him. 

As a child, Jaehaerys would pray and hope and wish and obey and endure out of hope that one day, his father would look at him with the same pride and affection he showed Aegon. Jaehaerys forgave his father everything, hoping against hope that one day, Rhaegar would love him.

But Jaehaerys is gone. Jon knows better.

Still, it’s hard not to feel the effect of Rhaegar’s smile. To feel his heart ache when his father strokes his cheek for the first time.

“Jaehaerys,” Rhaegar whispers, “My son. My sweet, dutiful boy. What have we done to you?”

Jon actually laughs. “Where to begin?”

“I’m sorry, Jaehaerys, I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Your whole life, I’ve been taking my failures out on you. I’ve mistreated you, neglected you, abused you… I should have been a better father, but… I couldn’t look at you without seeing your mother. I blamed you for her loss. I’ve failed you and her. I’ve failed everyone.” 

Jon feels sick. Rhaegar sinks to his knees before him, hands clasped.

“Please, my son… Forgive me. I promise you, it’ll all be different now. I understand now. You’re my Prince that was promised, not Aegon. You’re the Song of Ice and Fire. You’re everything I’ve fought for. I was blind, but I understand now. Let me help you… Let me help you become the king you were meant to be. You are meant to bring back the greatest empire in human history, my son. The Prince Who Was Promised. Let me help you take the world that’s rightfully yours, Jaehaerys. Let me be the father I should have been all these years. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

Jon looks into his father’s eyes. “Sansa,” he whispers, his throat parched.

Rhaegar hurries to bring a cup of water to his lips. “Pardon?” He asks, when Jon has imbibed the whole cup.

“Sansa!” He says, more forcefully. “Princess Sansa!”

His father hesitates. “Of course. She’ll be yours. It seems you’ve inherited my preference for Stark girls.” He chuckles nervously. “She’ll be your queen, Jaehaerys, if you wish it. Once we take the dragons, there won’t be a single woman beyond your grasp. The Valyrians of old had many wives, after all. All we need is to get the dragons from my sister, and…”

“You shot her!” Jon says through clenched teeth.

“Oh, my son, you’re delirious, you--”

“---NO! YOU SHOT HER! AND I SWEAR, RHAEGAR TARGARYEN, IF SHE HAS PERISHED, YOUR DEATH WILL NOT BE QUICK!”

“MAESTER FRANCEL! COME IN AND ATTEND TO THE PRINCE!” 

“I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU! NEVER!” Jon shouts. He’s restrained and some other liquid is forced into his mouth.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Sansa:

They try to stop her. They make promises. Father says he’s sending armies, that he’s conferred with Princess Daenerys.

“You must stay in bed, Sweetling, you’re hurt!”

They sedate her at first, but stop when she refuses to eat. Her wounds are healed well enough.

“Father,” she tells her king, “If you want me to succeed you, then you must let me be a leader. You would let Robb go, we both know it.” 

“I let Robb go, and I lost him!” Her father protests.

“You’ll lose me if you don’t let me go.”

She was never martially inclined, but she knows how to find Jon. Reports from a siege Daenerys laid against Dragonstone yielded nothing. Rhaegar, Viserys, and Aegon have vanished. No one has any idea where they are. There have been reports of sightings all over Westeros, but they all turned out to be dead ends and decoys. Rhaegar has exhausted all of his remaining resources to keep his son hidden. 

But Sansa knows how to find them.

Ghost stays by her side as faithfully as Lady, but when she saddles her horse, the white wolf knows what to do.

Ghost is Jon’s wolf. He always has been.

Many of her forces think she’s gone mad. And some desert her. It doesn’t stop her. She follows the wolf through the North, through the Riverlands, the Crownlands, and the Storm King’s domains. She follows Ghost through the Dornish marches. 

More and more of her men melt away, insisting she’s gone completely mad. She doesn’t care.

She comes upon the tower in the Prince’s pass. A ruin, really. It’s just her, Ghost, and Lady.

She realizes where she is. Where she must be. Seven Hells. History repeats itself in the strangest ways.

Viserys laughs at her when he sees her. He stops laughing when Ghost rips out his throat. Aegon goes much the same way.

She finds Rhaegar and Jon at the top of the tower, the king holding a blade to his son’s throat. 

“One more step, from you or your beasts,” the king rants, “And he dies.” 

She can tell from the mad look in his eyes that he’s not bluffing. Her heart breaks at the sight of Jon. He’s thin as a skeleton, his eyes are hazy. What have they been doing to him?

Sansa sinks to her knees. She can stand no longer. “Jon…” She sobs, “I’m so sorry…”

“You can both make it out here alive,” Rhaegar says, grinning, “Just… Just get him to tell me about the dragons. That’s all. All I want are the dragons… Tell me how to take my sister’s dragons…” 

“I don’t know!” Sansa cries, eyes glued to edge pressed to Jon’s throat.

“But he does! He rode them! He rode them with her!” Rhaegar rants. “He’ll tell you, won’t he?”

Sansa takes a deep breath. “Yes, he’ll tell me anything. He loves me.”

“Tell her, Jaehaerys! There she is! Right there! Sansa! Your Princess! I got her for you! She’s fine! Now tell her, son! Then you can be king, and she’ll be your queen! And we will all rise again!”

Jon mumbles something. Rhaegar grins and bends his ear closer to his son.

“At long last…” The Mad King croaks, “My whole life… Just… just say it a little louder, Jaehaerys…”

“I said…” Jon murmurs. “MY NAME IS JON!”

Jon seizes the blade, yanking it from his father’s hands. Ghost pounces. Rhaegar falls. Jon towers over his father, furious.

“Jaehae--- Jon, please…”

Sansa’s breath catches as she hears the prince reply, “You shouldn’t have hurt her.”

She crawls over to him, wrapping her arms about his shoulders as Rhaegar bleeds out.

“Jon…” She whispers. “Come home with me.”

He nods slowly. “We’ll have a family. A real one.”

They help each other to their feet, and Jon leads her into the chamber where he was kept. The wolves follow. The two collapse.

It’s a new dawn when they wake, and Sansa helps him onto the saddle. They ride North, his arms about her waist the whole way. 

She sends word ahead to Winterfell and arranges for a ship to take them to White Harbor. She nurses him back to health in his cabin.

When they finally make it back to Winterfell, Sansa finds that her mother has done as asked, and the preparations are well underway for the wedding. Her sister greets her with tears of joy. 

“Thank god you’re back! I don’t want to be queen!”

The princess weds her prince in the godswood, and they live happily ever after. 

[kirakiraproject]

Kira Beauty - Ori

This week's Kira Beauty is our only 3rd generation Canadian member, Ori from Team R. I'm Mizuki and I'm the one who gonna interview Ori.

M = Mizuki O = Ori

M: Hi Ori!

O: Hello Mizuki! How are you?

M: I'm fine. How about you, Ori?

O: That's great! I'm also fine, thanks 🙂

M: So how has your day been?

O: Good so far, thanks 🙂 How has your been?

M: It has been pretty fine, thanks. How do you feel by being a member of Crystal Rose so far?

O: I feel very excepted and privilege. I wanted to join around five years ago but was no where's near good enough, and now that I finally made it, I'm just extremely happy 😁

M: Oh, so you knew about the group since the beginning? What was the reason that made you auditioned for the group this time?

O: Since I never thought I was good enough before, and I didn't have the right stuff to audition, I asked if the manager would keep me up-to-date about when the auditions would be help. When I got an email about Gen 3 this year, I nearly fell out of my chair. I thought the idea of being part of a group that sung original songs, and made music videos would be fun, and I really wanted to be apart of something like that.

M: I understand your feelings. I was also very happy by joining this group. Working in a group is so much more special than working all alone. Actually you are great, so you shouldn't think you weren't good enough. 

M: So since when did your dream as a singer start?

O: It is. Oh thank you 🙂 My dream to become a singer started probably around the time I was actually able to sing. Me and my mom would always sing together regardless of what we were doing when I was little, and music was always a big part of my life. I always wished I could be on stage singing to a bunch of fans 😊

M: Hope you will be able to do it soon! What kind of music genres would you like to sing?

O: I would love to sing ballads, or really emotional rock / alternative songs. What kind of genres do you like to sing?

M: Actually the same, hahaha! Or a mix of them all and rap too should be good. Have you thought about releasing your own songs in the future?

O: I never thought about rap. That would give a really nice flair to the song 😮 And I would love to release my own songs now actually, although I have no idea how to make the instrumental track for that, 😅😅

M: Hahaha same same!! I don't know anything about how to make the instrumental part too! Maybe we should contact those who know to work with them haha. But would you like to compose and write your own lyrics, or you are fine with someone else doing it for you?

O: Maybe we should lol. I bet you would make such lovely music 😮 It would be nice to write and make my own music, but I'm fine with someone else doing it for me, for now. Or even, I could just write the lyrics. I'm fine with that too.

M: Thank you, I would say the same for you. OMG, please release your own songs soon!!! I'm exciting for them!! 😍😍 If you have to write a song right now, what would you want the song to be about?

O: 😳😳 Oh my lol thank you. I wold probably write a song about heartbreak, or people using people, or about being yourself, and unique, cause everyone being the same creates a very dull world.

M: Wow, really deep songs then! I like those! 

M: Besides then being a singer, do you have other dream occupations?

O: I'm also working towards being a voice actress, and possibly an online artist ^.^

M: What is an online artist?

O: I st mean someone who would post speed paints, and post their art online to sell, as commissions, or otherwise.

M: Oh wow! I remember I have seem your paintings. They are very beautiful! Do you have any website where you post them at the moment?

O: Oh wow, thank you 🙂 I post my speed paints to this YouTube channel - - > > https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCcV-DGXOzZS_trJ7lcQXzpQ Though I haven't posted anything lately.All of my WIPs, and paper drawings go on my Instagram.

M: Wow, so everyone, please visit Ori's super art after reading our interview! 😉 How long have you been interested in drawing?

O: I have been since I was 12, so almost 5 years.

M: You learnt that much in only 5 years? It's amazing!!

O: /)//(\ Thank you. If you practice a lot, everyday, you can really improve your skills 🙂 Plus, I like to think it's in my blood lol, cause my parents, and siblings all draw extremely well too.

M: Maybe it is, but everything needs its' hard work, so I'm sure that you also have put down a lot of hard work into those to make them as amazing as they are today!

O: True true. Practice, and hard work always come first before talent, and even when you are good, there is still always room for improvement or new skills 🙂

M: Since we are in a Japanese inspired group, I'm sure you listen to Japanese music too right?

O: I do listen to Japanese music. Like GANiDELiA, REOL, and Vocaloid, plus some Utaties like JubyPhonic, and Rachie.

M: Oh, so since when did you start to listen to Japanese music?

O: When I was 12. Everything relating to anime, art, or singing actually covers started when I was 12 actually lol

M: How comes haha? How did you start to listen to Japanese music?

O: I started really watching anime when I was 12, and that lead to me looking up the opening songs, then covers, and then finding all these other singers.

M: Oh, do you remember the name of your first anime?

O: My first anime was Spirited Away, and Mew Mew Power.

M: Are you still watching anime right now?

O: Of course 🙂 Right now I'm trying to work my way through the One Piece series, and I keep drawing the characters 😩 Which isn't helping me get through the anime. I'm only on episode 43 😭

M: You don't need to hurry to watch through it. Just watch when you have time haha 😀 

M: If we go back to the music topic, do you prefer to sing in Japanese of English more?

O: That's a hard question. I guess it all depends on the song really. Sometimes it's easier to sing one in Japanese than English, and vice-versa 😅😅

M: I see. How's your Japanese? Do you understand the basic?

O: はい！わかります！But just the basics lol.

M: Wow, you even know how to type in Japanese. Actually my Japanese is super bad, so I can't read what you wrote, haha. I only know some very few words haha. How did you learn Japanese?

O: I said "Hai! Wakarimasu." Which is Yes, I understand. I learnt by getting help from one of my exchange student - friends, and also by using some language apps 🙂 I'm also trying to learn German, and French.

M: Wow, you're very hard working! That's good that you are learning a lot of languages! So what is your goal within the 5 years?

O: To be known a bit more online, and to be in acting college 🙂 Can I ask what your goals may be?

M: Good luck!!! Go for it!! You are in high school right now right? When are you gonna join college? About my goal, I hope to become well-known online and together with you all make Crystal Rose into a successful group.

O: Thank you. I am in high school - grade 11. I plan on going to college a year or two after I graduate, so when I'm 20. Oooh that's a wonderful goal! Good luck Mizuki! I know you can do it!!!! 🙂

M: Thank you so much, dear! The same with you, Ori! 

M: By the way, since you gonna study acting in college, does it mean that you also would like to become an actress?

O: Your welcome 🙂Yes it does! Acting is so much fun, I wish to do it as my main profession. But if I fail 😞 I will become an Art and English teacher.

M: I also have an interest in acting. It seems fun! I think it's good that you have a lot of plans, so like you said if one doesn't work then there's always another. Since you are thinking of becoming a teacher, which grade would you like to teach?

O: I bet you would be an amazing actor! If you plan on pursuing than good luck 🙂 I would like to teach grade 7 or 8 English, but grade 10 or 11 art.

M: The same with you! Don't give up your acting dream!! Good luck!!!!!!! 💪💪❤️❤️ So funny that some of our dream are very similar, since I have also thought of becoming a teacher, though I don't think of it so much right now, haha.

O: You should also not give up!! I'll be rooting for you from afar 〜〜！！！！ ❤️❤️ It is kind of ironic lol.

M: It's good to not give up one's dream! Everything is possible in the world! ✨✨ So Ori, thank you so much a nice talking time! Wish you the best with all your dreams! And for all of you who have read our interview, thank you so much!

O: Thank you so much for interviewing me Mizuki. Good luck on all your dreams as well. And thank you everyone who read along! Have a good day 〜

M: Have a good day for you too Ori! Bye everyone!

[broke-ass-twat]

all of them . . .

Fuck you and fuck the anonymous asker and lets fucking get this shit started. Also do your goddamn work Izzy.

200: My crush’s name is: Hey Izzy. Because that was such a huge secret199: I was born in: October198: I am really: Bored197: My cellphone company is: AT & T (Are you gonna ask my mother’s maiden name and first pet name now?)196: My eye color is: Brown195: My shoe size is: 11?194: My ring size is: Decently large193: My height is: 6 foot tall god192: I am allergic to: Assholes. And cats and dogs and eggs and milk and eggplant191: My 1st car was: I had a first car?190: My 1st job was: I had a first job?189: Last book you read: The first 6 pages of Cat’s Cradle. Alternatively book 25 of Desolate Era (it’s a Chinese wuxia novel)188: My bed is: Comfortable?187: My pet: Don’t have one186: My best friend: I have several185: My favorite shampoo is: Head and shoulders184: Xbox or ps3: Xbox183: Piggy banks are: Chill182: In my pockets: 2 bic pens, typically my phone, wallet, asthma pump, chapstick, and keys181: On my calendar: I don’t really use calendars180: Marriage is: Something I’ll get to179: Spongebob can: Suck my dick (I don’t really get spongebob?)178: My mom: is caring but could use some chill177: The last three songs I bought were? I don’t honestly remember the last time I bought a song. Which is a lie but I don’t know what I bought176: Last YouTube video watched: Vaguely watched the youtube video for Girls by Mura Masa175: How many cousins do you have? Total of 3 I think174: Do you have any siblings? I have a twin sister173: Are your parents divorced? Yes172: Are you taller than your mom? Definitely171: Do you play an instrument? Nope170: What did you do yesterday? Die slowly

[ I Believe In ]169: Love at first sight: Sort of yeah168: Luck: Sort of but not really167: Fate: No166: Yourself: Honestly not really and that accounts for at least 2 rather important problems I can think of165: Aliens: Sure164: Heaven: No163: Hell: No162: God: No161: Horoscopes: They’re fun and sometimes fool me but no160: Soul mates: Not really?159: Ghosts: Sometimes momentarily hen I se shit move in the dark out of the corner of my eyes158: Gay Marriage: Yah157: War: Depends but yah156: Orbs: ????155: Magic: I fucking wish

[ This or That ]154: Hugs or Kisses: Um. Fucking both. but kisses153: Drunk or High: Depends. Mostly drunk152: Phone or Online: Online151: Red heads or Black haired: Read heads are hot150: Blondes or Brunettes: Brunettes149: Hot or cold: Hot148: Summer or winter: Feeling winter atm (I know its odd)147: Autumn or Spring: Autumn 146: Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate when eh. Vanilla when stuff is quality145: Night or Day: Night144: Oranges or Apples: Orange143: Curly or Straight hair: Um. Curly?142: McDonalds or Burger King: McDonalds is my shit (cuz apple pie)141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: Milk chocolate you fucking heathen140: Mac or PC: Mac (theyre prettier tho I know PCs can be better)139: Flip flops or high heals: I don’t really wear either. Both are fine.138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: I can be ugly, sweet, and rich. Tho I guess this means ugly person. Ugly and rich since I’d just do whatever the hell I want and be rich137: Coke or Pepsi: Coke136: Hillary or Obama: Obama135: Burried or cremated: Cremate this mess134: Singing or Dancing: Dancing133: Coach or Chanel: My dude I know fuck all about either brand. Still would go with Chanel132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: Who the fuck?131: Small town or Big city: Big city130: Wal-Mart or Target: They’re both cool. target feels nicer tho129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: I hate them both128: Manicure or Pedicure: manicure127: East Coast or West Coast: This is actually hard. Um. Shit. Hm. Weast coast?126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Christmas. My birthday doesn’t tend to mean a whole lot to me (probably cuz I didn’t really have birthday parties as a kid)125: Chocolate or Flowers: I’ve never gotten flowers and that’d be chill but chocolate124: Disney or Six Flags: Disney probably.123: Yankees or Red Sox: Yankees you fucking heathen

[ Here’s What I Think About ]122: War: Avoid it if possible121: George Bush: No very intelligent120: Gay Marriage: It’s fine119: The presidential election: Kill me118: Abortion: It’s your choice and fuck what other people have to say. Though it’s interesting to think about if one potential person wants the child and the other doesn’t. At which point I feel like whoever really wants it that bad should have sole care of it otherwise it’s unfair to both the child and one who didn’t want it. And if the dude wants the child then it’s still the woman’s choice I feel like? But this is rocky but would make a fun conversation tbh117: MySpace: Stop poking the dead thing with a stick116: Reality TV: Mostly really dumb with marginal entertainment115: Parents: Mine I guess are half really good but hard on me for good reason and the other half I seriously feel like I couldn’t care less about. In general Id hope for them to be caring, understanding, firm, and logical114: Back stabbers: Fuck em113: Ebay: Chill concept I’ve never used112: Facebook: Blackhole for my time111: Work: I hate doing it as it very rarely interests me110: My Neighbors: Chill109: Gas Prices: High I guess?108: Designer Clothes: Can be cool but mostly just why and dumb107: College: Fucking scam but also really cool adult babysitting106: Sports: theyre alright I suppose. Don’t really pay them any mind at all105: My family: I only pay attention to the ones I interact with even though there is a family member I really should talk to but don’t cuz I have a hard time caring although I really should104: The future: Scary

[ Last time I ]103: Hugged someone: Today sorta. If not today then sunday102: Last time you ate: Like an hour ago101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: Thanksgiving100: Cried in front of someone: It’s been a while. Don’t remember99: Went to a movie theater: During spring break like 2 weeks ago98: Took a vacation: like 2 weeks ago97: Swam in a pool: been a while. Swam in the ocean like 2 weeks ago

96: Changed a diaper: I’ve never done that

95: Got my nails done: never94: Went to a wedding: It’s been a few years. Would’ve liked to go to one this year but couldn’t for some pretty shit reasons93: Broke a bone: Never92: Got a peircing: Never91: Broke the law: Um. Like Saturday90: Texted: like 30 minutes ago

[ MISC ]89: Who makes you laugh the most: Things that are funny. Also myself88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: Parents paying for shit87: The last movie I saw: Get out86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: Figuring out my shit85: The thing im not looking forward to: the future84: People call me: Kemi83: The most difficult thing to do is: Have self control and follow through on it82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: Never81: My zodiac sign is: Libra80: The first person i talked to today was: Today a girl named sara cuz I was up and around at 2am79: First time you had a crush: Like elementary school78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: There is no one I can’t hide things from77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: I have no idea. Probably within the last few days76: Right now I am talking to: Well right now I’m not talking to anyone75: What are you going to do when you grow up: Hopefully happy and relatively successful74: I have/will get a job: hopefully over the summer73: Tomorrow: Is another day72: Today: Is my current reality that I really should use a lot more wisely but tend not to71: Next Summer: It’d be nice to be a more productive person70: Next Weekend: Probably gonna be doing fuck all instead of doing work69: I have these pets: I don’t have pets68: The worst sound in the world: Nails on a  chalkboard, velcro ripping, people chewing with their fucking mouths open. I can’t choose one67: The person that makes me cry the most is: Um. Prolly my stepfather?66: People that make you happy: My friends occasionally family when they aren’t disappointed in me65: Last time I cried: I dunno64: My friends are: Chill63: My computer is: Cool but mostly a huge distraction I literally can’t live without cuz I need it for everything. And I also really like it.62: My School: Is meh. Some chill people61: My Car: Don’t have one60: I lose all respect for people who: I suppose cheat59: The movie I cried at was: I dunno58: Your hair color is: Black57: TV shows you watch: I dunno. A lot 56: Favorite web site: Youtube probably55: Your dream vacation: Europe54: The worst pain I was ever in was: I don’t remember feeling pain I thought was all that intense. Like shit has hurt a lot but not like holy fuck I’m screaming53: How do you like your steak cooked: Medium52: My room is: A little dirty atm51: My favorite celebrity is: Um. Gordon Ramsey I suppose? Don’t really have one50: Where would you like to be: In a very nice restaurant sipping very nice whiskey with a lot of money. Ive said this before.49: Do you want children: Maybe eventually. At least 2 but not more than 348: Ever been in love: yeah47: Who’s your best friend: I have multiple46: More guy friends or girl friends: I definitely have more girl friends45: One thing that makes you feel great is: music44: One person that you wish you could see right now: My girlfriend would be nice to just chill with tbh43: Do you have a 5 year plan: Don’t be a failure is sorta just it. realistically grad school.42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: I actually haven't 41: Have you pre-named your children: Nope40: Last person I got mad at: Um. I dunno39: I would like to move to: Somewhere on the west coast38: I wish I was a professional: Chef

[ My Favorites ]37: Candy: Twix is up there36: Vehicle: Teslas are pretty fucking cool35: President: Obama probably wasn’t the best but damn was he chill34: State visited: California never really disappoints me33: Cellphone provider: AT &T I guess? What the hell sort of question is this32: Athlete: Um. Don’t really have one. Ichiro Suzuki seems pretty chill. Curtis Grandson also seems chill. What can I say my stepdad likes the Yankees. Well so does my father31: Actor: Um. idk30: Actress: Idk29: Singer: Adele comes to mind cuz damn that voice. But I probably have others I like more and don’t remember28: Band: Mura Masa is high up there for producers. So is Flume, Ekali atm, Ta-ku, and Snago27: Clothing store: Don’t really have one. Uniqlo is pretty chill26: Grocery store: Fairways is chill25: TV show: Adventure time probably24: Movie: Don’t really have one tbh23: Website: I Don’t per se have a favorite. I like tumblr and Facebook 22: Animal: Deer are chill21: Theme park: Don’t have one. Which ever one has the wildest roller coasters20: Holiday: Um. Christmas19: Sport to watch: Baseball if I had to choose18: Sport to play: Ultimate frisbee17: Magazine: Cooks Illustrated is cool16: Book: Don’t really have one15: Day of the week: Friday or saturday14: Beach: Orange beach atm cuz it’s the nicest one i’ve been to13: Concert attended: Shitttttttt. Alina Baraz and Jauz are really high up there12: Thing to cook: I like making pasta cuz I do all sorts of shit to the sauce and I’m good at it. I also make pretty decent pork chops and shit. I dunno. 11: Food: Sushi probably. Also like steak and curry a lot.10: Restaurant: Um. Five guys? I don’t really have one.9: Radio station: Don’t really listen to radio8: Yankee candle scent: Don’t know any7: Perfume: same as above6: Flower: honeysuckle5: Color: Blue and green4: Talk show host: Don’t have one3: Comedian: Louis C.K. is great2: Dog breed: Cant choose1: Did you answer all these truthfully? Very

[julisastone-blog]

Month 12:  Professional Practice

The end of the Media Design Master of Fine Arts program is approaching as Month 12 wraps up. It is a truly surreal feeling—after this assignment, there are no academic requirements. It is a bitter sweet end. After all my hard work, I finally obtained a Graphic Designer position at the Auburn Document Centre. It is part time, but it is a start. I am graduating with potentially high honors, according to my liaison. I am finally getting back into programs and events with the museum as I look for full time work within a non-profit or community based organization. However, as amazing as this program has been and all the doors it has opened, I find myself questioning if I had made this step at the right time. My grandmother would be upset if she knew I had that thought; but I wonder if I lost what could potentially be her last year on earth due to academic ambitions. Cancer was something I hoped I could avoid. Unfortunately, it found her.

 Having just gotten off the phone with her, I know she is proud of me. I know that she does not think I have wasted my time. I also know that she would want me to do it even if we knew the circumstances a year ago. Therefore, it is my goal to finish the program strong.

 Over the last month, a variety of ethical and moral reasoning topics have been covered as well as understanding and executing an Experience Map. For this month, the three biggest takeaways include: Reflection and Experience Mapping, Importance of Copyright, and Marketing to Children.

 Takeaway #1: Reflection and Experience Mapping

Adaptive Paths writes that the “[h]uman experience is complex, and mostly intangible. Yet the challenge of experience mapping is to uncover, little by little, critical information about your… experiences” (pg. 9). For this course, the purpose was to discover the peaks and valleys of my journey through the Media Design Master of Fine Arts Program at Full Sail University. For me, the process of obtaining my Master’s has strained all parts of my being.

 My mother, who had always been my biggest supporter, told me to quit the program because she found it to be a pointless endeavor. She and one of my sisters often discussed with my other siblings that I was making the “same mistake Matt did”. Matt, being the only other sibling who has obtained a Master’s, who also happens to be the assistant facilities manager at the UC Davis Center for Aquatic Biology and Agriculture. If having a job in my dream field is considered a mistake—sign me up.

 To ensure I maintained good grades, I cut back on work. I had become so financially strained that I was talking about having to take a break from the program. My boyfriend offered to let me use his internet instead of taking a break. This, however, lead to me neglecting my incredibly affection Sophie cat. Probably the hardest part of the entire program was knowing that I was hurting her by not being around and recognizing that I would be a better pet owner by sending her to my sister’s house until after I finished the program. Although I lacked the internet bill, I was still financially unstable and I had to give up my apartment. Luckily, my boyfriend has allowed me to stay with him and we are looking for a house to move into by June so I can be reunited with Sophie.

 In my 29 years, I never experienced four deaths in less than a year. My best friend also happens to be my ex-boyfriend and I had become very close to his grandparents and they both passed within 4 months of each other after 72 years marriage. During Christmas vacation, my sister-in-law lost her father and my youngest siblings lost their mother. It was hard to focus on school when all I wanted was to comfort my family and friends. However, as trying as those times were for me, it did not prepare me for my grandmother’s illness.

 Thinking back on all of these awful experiences over the past 12 months, I reflect on Alyssa’s statement in her feedback of my Experience Map: “The “thinking” and “feeling” bar graphs showed more negative aspects than the “doing” graphs, which proves that as a designer, you cannot let your mind or emotions defeat you in the process of designing new material” (Kukonik, 2017). In terms of my successes over the past 12 months, I have learned to design within multiple programs including: Photoshop, Illustrator, After Effects, Premiere Pro, and KeyNote. I have elevated my design techniques and capabilities through extensive and reliable research. My ability to present ideas and projects has prepared me for educational opportunities within a future career in a non-profit. Most importantly, with some help from Prof. Argo, I have developed Creative Confidence.

 Creative confidence is the quality that human-centered designers rely on when it comes to making leaps, trusting their intuition, and chasing solutions that they haven’t totally figured out yet. It’s the belief that you can and will come up with creative solutions to big problems and the confidence that all it takes is rolling up your sleeves and diving in. – David Kelly, Founder of IDEO

 My Experience Map showcases my whole experience. I began my academic career as a darkroom photograph major, which is why the foundation is based on negatives and images. I went to Wells for my Bachelors of Art and as a requirement, I did an internship at the Cayuga Museum—the driving force behind my enrollment at Full Sail. My internship consisted of me organizing through thousands of historical photographs and negatives and properly storing them. During this internship, I developed a love for the museum and I went from intern, to volunteer, to Docent, and am now the Curatorial Assistant. The first exhibit I did on my own, believe it or not, was on glass plate negatives and prints. I chose to use the photograph style, not only because of its history and connection to my journey—the ability to use an alternative bar graph was a better representation of my Full Sail experience, as Alyssa pointed out.

 Post-it-Note Exercise to uncover peaks and valleys of Mastery Journey.

'Thinking’ bag graph to highlight the harder months using black and easier months with white.

‘Feeling’ bar graph to highlight the harder months using black and easier months with white.

‘Doing’ bar graph that highlights the harder months in black and the easier months in white.

Project Version 1: Issues: No legend, large chunks of text.

Project Version 2: Included legend. But overall concept not explained thoroughly.

Project Version 3: Fixed the large chunks of text with quick bullet information. However, the lines are clearly defined.

Project Version 4: Included pens and highlighters along with highlighted information to give the overall theme a ‘in progress’ look and feel. Also, changed ‘negative’ and ‘photograph’ all to month to avoid misunderstanding with the word ‘negative’.

Final Version: Adjusted the pens and highlighters to better define the lines by reinforcing the pathways rather than cluttering them up.

Takeaway #2: Importance of Copyright

As a designer it is imperative to understand the importance of copyright. According to the Copyright Office, original and creative property of designers is protected under both the 1976 Copyright Act and the 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act, both of which are grounded in the US Constitution for published and unpublished work (Copyright). Therefore, when creating work for a client, they only own the reproduction rights and the designer retains the copyright. This includes every creative outlet from illustrations, photographs, fonts, traditional arts, and more.

 Also, it is important to understand that when creating work for a client, you are participating in a transaction. It is imperative to keep everything documented to protect the designer’s rights and ownership by clearly outlining intellectual property in legal contracts and agreements (AIGA, 2009). This creates an understanding between the designer and client that eliminates potential legal issues.

 However, as Yerzil discusses, there are common trends within the industry that lead to inspirations and an understanding that copying elements is permissible if it is conducted in moderation (2015). This concepts falls under what AIGA (2009) considers as ‘Fair Use’—“limited exception to the exclusive power of the designer … to control the uses of designs” (pg. 82). Essentially, taking elements and inspirations is permitted, however, using tracing paper over the whole piece is not.

 Should one commit copyright infringement, there are several legal punishments that he or she could be faced with. This includes paying for damages, reimbursing profits that were made by infringer or lost by artist, a fee up to $150,000 per infringed work, paying all legal fees, impoundment of illegal pieces, and incarceration of the infringer (Copyright Infringement, 2017).

  Takeaway #3: Marketing to Children

My dream position would be Creative Director or Head of Development for a small (preferably local based) museum. Therefore, it is imperative to have and understanding of what is and is not permissible when marketing to children. During this course, it was discovered that in the US if the advertisement could not be confused with neither entertainment nor editorials, organizations could market to children 12 and younger—unlike most countries (Snyder, 2011).

 Children are an ideal audience to target. Ultimately, children 14 and younger make up three separate markets equaling more than $200 billion. By marketing to children, clients develop a ‘cradle-to-grave’ consumer by implanting brand loyalty into their cores. However, this leads to age compression because marketers targeting children lure them with the concept of ‘adult’ activities and choices. Today, items that were once marketed to teenagers are now focused on tweens. (Christians, Fackler, Richardson, Kreshel, and Woods, 2015).

 Snyder writes that “[a]dvertising ethics, however, must go a step above the law to ensure that consumers are treated appropriately” (pg. 478). Essentially, Snyder is stating that as designers, it is our obligation to respect that children are inexperienced, impressionable, and naïve; as well as, and more importantly, obligated to a happy and full childhood. Therefore, as a designer looking to work with the community, and children, it is imperative that I ensure the advertisement and design work created is clearly understood by children as either editorial for exhibits or advertisements for events and activities.

  References:

 Adaptive Path. (2013). Adaptive Path's Guide to Experience Mapping (1st ed.). Retrieved April 3, 2017, from https://assethub.fso.fullsail.edu/assethub/Adaptive_Paths_Guide_to_Experience_Mapping_d8181760-b61b-4c14-b8f6-54e6fe904d06.pdf

 AIGA. (2009). Design Business and Ethics. Retrieved April 4, 2017, from http://www.aiga.org/design-business-and-ethics

 Christians, C., Fackler, M., Richardson, K. B., Kreshel, P. J., & Woods, R. H., Jr. (2016). Media Ethics: Cases and Moral Reasoning (9th ed.). New York, NY: Routledge.

 Copyright. (n.d.). Retrieved 4 April, 2017, from https://www.copyright.gov/

 Copyright Infringement Rights. (March 16, 2017). Purdue University Copyright Office. Retrieved April 12, 2017, from, https://www.lib.purdue.edu/uco/CopyrightBasics/penalties.html

 Kelly, D. (n.d.). Creative Confidence. IDEO.ORG. Retrieved April 22, 2017, from http://www.designkit.org/mindsets/3

 Kukonik, A. (April 12, 2017). Written Communication. Retrieved from https://course.fso.fullsail.edu/class_sections/89357/discussions/1814587

 Snyder, W. (2011). Making the Case For Enhanced Advertising Ethics: How a New Way of Thinking About Advertising Ethics May Build Consumer Trust. Journal of Advertising Research, 477-483. doi:10.2501/JAR-51-3-477-483 S

 YEZRIL, F. (2015). SOMEWHERE BEYOND THE ©: COPYRIGHT AND WEB DESIGN. Journal Of Intellectual Property & Entertainment Law, 5(1), 43-71.

[fencesandfrogs]

really hate how i can just lose an entire tumblr post because i accidentally resized a window.

anyway there’s no fun preamble this time i was rambling about abuse and love and i don’t want to reworkshop the lead in joke.

[2k words, 8 minute read. text wall. mostly avoids outright description of abuse, but i still wouldn’t recommend it as reading if you’re iffy about that kind of thing.]

okay to quickly summarize what i said before i lost everything: i’m talking about how abuse shaped my views of love in a way that’s really fundamental and i don’t often realize.

i dated this guy for like three years, if we were older we’d probably have been married ergo i feel weird calling him my boyfriend.

we both had similar abusive households. bad dads, moms who inadvertently exacerbated it, younger siblings we felt the need to shelter from what we experienced. he wasn’t ready to acknowledge his household as such, i didn’t push it.

i have this really unhealthy protective streak over feelings/how people who love me need to confide in me always or they don’t care that i love them, something i am working on and is no longer that dramatic, but in the context of this, it used to be.

when my brother was born i struggled w how i felt about him. he was my father’s golden child (not my mothers, i’m not sure how he’ll feel about her considering i have it as a fact i am her Actual Truthful Literal Favorite Child, but i don’t think she shows it? but i don’t know for sure) something which made me push him away

also, my mom and i lived on our own for two years when i was 2ish in like a really tight financial situation.

so my brother just has positive memories of my dad and even when i’m twelve and haven’t started being done with my father’s bs, i do feel like there’s this massive wall of why i am like i am that he just doesn’t get.

anyway so then my parents get divorced properly and i’m like “well shit, can’t believe i was stupid enough to trust in the stability of their relationship. guess i’m never going to believe in stable romance. time to never get married or have children because like fuck i’m bringing them into this world.”

interestingly, i did not go “men are untrustworthy,” as i would have honestly expected (because i’m basically going “well my mom and my grandmother both picked bad men who were bad in the same way guess my family doesn’t know how to pick husbands”), possibly because of complex reasons that may leak out as i continue to write, for a while, i honestly viewed my mom as worse than my dad. that’s, definitely not true and has to do with how they both interacted with me and how it played off one another, so.

anyway i thought about that but then i also had read the first part of seven habits of highly productive people or whatever its called and was like “hm yes love is a verb isn’t it guess that means love is a choice but also if i love someone then i better do it with my full body because i’m not going to cause the inevitable instability of any and all future relationships”

which, you may be able to see where this is going basically. i’m already hyper protective. there are some gaps in my childhood memory but i felt the need to protect my mom from my dad so do with that what you will. i usually interpret the charitable child-doesn’t-understand-romantic-affection. if for some reason you feel the need to bring this up with me, i will probably block you because i just can’t but it is relevant to this post.

and so my baby brother who i love dearly but also feel is getting all the love and acceptance i didn’t but also doesn’t understand why i’m the way i am (because he’s, you know, six) gets older and i’m like. “hm. seems like now that i’ve made myself a nontarget, he’s taking the brunt of it. can’t have that nope he doesn’t know how to protect himself he takes it personally. that’s weak, but that’s fine that’s because everyone else babies him but not me. i shall both protect him from harm and encourage him to be strong.”

fun fact: we once had a sword fight with sticks. he was six or seven. i was twelve or thirteen. he got whacked and his nose started bleeding. i refused to acknowledge i was doing anything wrong, because he should have accepted the risks.

(in my defence, my mom told me something similar a lot, and i didn’t really grasp that him being six meant he had much less reasoning power. as far as i was concerned, i had sprung from the womb fully intact like athena and just had to be taught how to do things, which meant my logical processing had never improved, it was just always that good.)

but at the same time, i was desperate to win back his trust and affection.

by ruffling his hair because it irritated the shit out of him. but that was done because maybe if he could learn to deal with that, he could learn to put up a wall when anyone yelled at him. and in the meantime, i would happily antagonize my father, because if he yelled at me at the dinner table, he’d apologize to my brother for upsetting him.

now. i don’t think ruffling your younger sibling’s hair is really anything to make a fuss over, and my dad is definitely not the “i do this to make you better” type, so i’m not sure exactly what to say about all this, except that it happened.

and so this idea of self-sacrifice in love, both in drawing other harm to myself and in being “loved less” to prevent future harm, became very essential to my whole idea of love.

so. i have three relationships, in relatively quick succession. the first is a quasi-romance that last for an indefinite amount of time but definitively ends when i decide i need to break up with the second.

the second is 3 months long, and basically can be summarized as: “this person is kind and never yells at me and is attractive. we get along and he makes me laugh and smile and is generally a good boyfriend. he makes me feel special and he respects my interests and he legitimately wants me to be happy. i feel safe with him, and i feel like i trust him.

unfortunately i’m not personally attracted to him, and i have 0 romantic interest in him.”

also, we wanted very different things in the future. we were like 14, but see: “my love for someone must be timeless for it to matter”

so i broke up with him because while i felt some kind of love towards him, it wasn’t what he wanted. which you know is a generally good thing, but it still feeds back into my idea of love.

love is sacrifice and pain. i love him, so i slash our relationship to prevent him from being hurt in the future. it doesn’t matter how i feel.

so then i date someone for three years and i display exactly the same behaviour and while i legitimately think we had a good relationship, i’ve been reflecting on the worse parts & he definitely, i believe inadvertently, took advantage of my self-sacrificing tendencies.

or, to put it more verbosely but correctly, he shared my longevity in relationships/love but not my total committal to 100% of yourself immediately, nor my self-sacrificing streak*.

*we’ll circle back to this

he actually was way more cautious in trusting me. which is actual the true reason he broke up with me, regardless of what he says. but that’s neither here nor there.

so he’s dating this person who is definitely traumatized (case in point: he once put his hand on my shoulder, which startled me because i didn’t know he was there, and i whirled around, primed to uppercut him, before i realized “oh hey i both know this person also i know everyone in this building there are like 10k people in town and 500 people in my school i do not need to hurt anyone”), but he can’t quite acknowledge that because that means he’s also abused, which isn’t true.

so i both can’t understand what he’s going through (which the implication because it’s worse), but also, he understands what i’ve been through. because he’s been through it.

(to which i say: lmao he saw the aftermath. the best parts, short of when i was three. he saw the direct incidents i could point to. i don’t think i ever mentioned a Lot of shit.

also other stuff thoroughly traumatized me. i still carry granola bars with me because if someone says they haven’t eaten a meal i feel compelled to make sure they eat.)

ergo, acknowledging that i need him to make concessions to feel safe and secure in our relationship means that our shared experiences, of which is are worse, are traumatizing, and we can’t have that, now can we?

so i can’t be overly self-sacrificing, unwilling to blame, and yet also turning minor disputes into major issues in a way that demands he meet me in the middle. nominally, yes, he promises to take blame fairly, but he can’t really follow through on that, because that means i am not behaving like him, which we can’t have.

(this was also an issue re. mental health and adhd. pretty much the same thought loop.)

there’s a lot of stuff i think, but namely that time he told me i couldn’t possibly understand how hard it is to make a decision that might cause tension in your family when i, age 14, fucking did that?

like, yeah, i made this decision that i knew would cut ties with my father and i knew might sever my chance at having a positive relationship with my brother, the singular person i love most in the entire world, watched that play out, waited with bated breath until my brother came back to me, still whole, when i was fourteen.

also, i then watched my mother do it again, once when i was sixteen and once just a few months ago.

i think i do in fact understand how that might feel.

anyway i’m losing my point and i’m hungry but basically. even now i have a hard time saying “this is not a fully healthy way to love,” not in a “i don’t accept that i was hurt as a child” way, but in a “but how else do you love?” way

i’m sure you can see that i drag concessions around almost every statement i make regarding my behaviour and the behaviour of those i love. the idea of actually posting this seems bad.

i think finding someone equally self sacrificial, confrontational, and ride or die from basically the get go would be absolutely fine.

(realism check: probably not, but let me have this.)

so. yeah. that’s cool.

*oh wait i just realized so. current theory about break up. is it was an act of self sacrifice just like mine. i’m not really being super fair to him, because i’m a lil angry, there was a lot of stuff going on i didn’t talk about because this is about me, dammit

but anyway he did definitely have plenty of acts of sacrifice, and this break up was very similar to the one i had before. i think he was on some level aware, beyond the cursury reasons given (both from him and me, earlier in this post), that he was harming me. not intentionally, not even always directly, and rarely in a way i blamed him for, but that he was, by the way he was, exploiting something buried very deep inside of me.

so he said, “this is not what i want, it doesn’t matter what matthew wants, this is what’s best for him and that’s what i truly want.”

which, you know, has me being like “ah yes r relationship. how good it was. what a fitting end. he did the good thing.”

should i be thinking that? that’s a discussion for another time.