#thirty three years of existence have conveyed to me that other people find it incredibly challenging to love me and I completely understand

[elizabethalexis]

I try my very best to trust that the universe will take me where I need to go, and if it leads me to your door it will be because it’s meant to be, and if it leads elsewhere or leads nowhere at all, then that is meant to be too. it’s just so hard to have faith in the invisible hand of the world. to believe that my prayers are real rather than imagined delusions meant to soothe my broken heart. it’s always been so incredibly hard for me to keep faith - in anything, let alone something so enormous, so improbable as fate. but I am trying. to trust that wherever I land is where I’m meant to be. even if that place is removed entirely from the man I loved and love still.

[lifechanyuan]

The Origing of LIFE - 4Wukong's master wanted him to learn the knowledge of "art, circulation, and movement".

Wukong asked: "Will this knowledge make me immortal?"

Master replied: "No", and Wukong said over and over again, "Then, I don't want to learn these three skills."

This tells us that profound knowledge does not exist in these three types of knowledge which are actually different levels of supernatural powers. If we restrict our thinking and consciousness to the level of "art", we will never arrive at the other side of LIFE. Wukong's refinement at Crescent Moon and Three Stars Cave was actually that he had uplifted himself with the knowledge of the soul, including thinking, consciousness, spirit, and psychological activities. When we grasp the secrets of soul and LIFE, then “seventy-two different forms” or even a “thousand kind of transformations” are not difficult; it is not fanciful to mount the clouds and ride the mist, or rise to Heaven and fall to Earth.

Speaking of "mounting the clouds and riding the mist", people often regard this as a thinking fantasy and talking idiotic nonsense, but in fact when we let go of our consciousness and expand our thinking, then we will find that it is a very common LIFE phenomenon in another space and time. Consider astronauts in spacecraft and consider the footprints left by those who flew to the moon, then suppose that the moon is smaller than its actual size; half its size, one third its size, down to a sphere as small as a football field. In these cases, could people have flown there? Or suppose the size of the earth remains, but its weight is reduced to five metric tons; could you then mount the clouds and ride the mist? Then, suppose that your weight is not seventy kilograms, but twenty, ten, or one kilogram, or one gram, or even as light as a feather; could you then mount the clouds and ride the mist? You should know that the spiritual entity (soul) which constructs LIFE is weightless. Without a spiritual entity (soul), there is no LIFE, but without material form, there is no LIFE either. LIFE requires both.

LIFE is 1+1=1, not 1=1 and not 0+1=1.

Spiritual entities can exist alone and material objects can exist alone. When spiritual entities and material objects exist separately, there is no LIFE. It is only when the two are combined together that LIFE generates. Just as with hydrogen and oxygen atoms, it is only when the two are combined together that water forms. Like cloud clusters with positive and negative charges, it is only when the two meet with each other that lightning and thunder will be generated.

Souls can accomplish their functions only when they are attached to material objects. Souls cannot only be attached to the bodies of humans and animals, but also to plants, rocks, houses, storms, rivers, ponds, cars, TVs, and any other “things”. There are lots of examples in the Bible. Many prophets have made incredible though obscure prophecies after having been possessed by spirits from supreme LIFE space; Jesus cured many sick people who were possessed by evil spirits; there are countless records and instances of being possessed by souls or haunted by ghosts at all times and all throughout the world. Seth conveyed information of LIFE to common people through an attachment to an American woman. There are many examples of souls becoming attached to lightning; here are two examples:

In 1899, a man was struck dead by lightning in his courtyard. Thirty years later, his son was killed in the same way and at the same place. On October 8’th, 1949, his grandson was struck dead by lightning in the same courtyard. Three generations were struck dead by lightning in the same place. These phenomena are clearly a spirit's revenge through the use of lightning.

In 1918, a Canadian major, Saint Mery-May Ford was struck by lightning. The same thing happened to him in 1924 and he became partially paralyzed, and again in 1930, and he became fully paralyzed. He died two years later but his tomb was struck into pieces by lightning in June 1934.

An article compiled by Xiao Ya is a perfect example of a soul attached to a car.

The car was of a German make with six seats and it embodied excellent performance, luxury, and style, yet it earned the nickname of a "killing monster" because during its years on the road, it killed eighteen people, injured seven others, and also led to the outbreak of the Great World War.

The first incident occurred on June 28, 1914 when the crown prince of Austria and his princess were assassinated while inside of it. This became the spark that ignited the Great World War.

The second time, it killed a queen and her friends riding in it.

The third time, it killed Austria’s fifth division General Commander.

The fourth time was the adviser to the General Captain who not only smashed his head into the front, but also killed two farmers walking on the road.

The fifth time was after the Great World War broke and another county’s head of state inherited this car. He had four traffic accidents within four months, his backbone was broken, and he was permanently handicapped.

The car was later owned or ridden by Doctor Cussac Ith, then a jeweler, a Swiss car racer, a farmer and his workers, as well as Tabor as a taxi, and his six friends, respectively. None of them escaped from this car’s horrible karma.

Finally, it was blasted into pieces by an allied bomber during the Second World War and completely disappeared from the world without a single piece ever being recovered.

Were these accidents or coincidences? I infer that the artisan who made this car was ill-treated and his soul had become attached to it so that he was able to foster a series of tragedies after his death to comfort his injured soul.

We know that some wooden houses can make creaky sounds late at night. The reasons are not from thermal contraction or from wood breaking, but rather because the carpenters building them had been ill-treated and deprived of their due compensations. For this reason, they are angry and their souls often visit the houses to show their indignation after their deaths.

Whenever there is unevenness, there will be sounds and shocks. All uprisings, rebellions, disasters, assassinations, and revolts throughout human history, even earthquakes, fires, and floods, are the results of indignated souls. There are plenty of cases of souls that have been attached to cars, boats, buildings, trees, flowers, and even grass. These are not difficult to find in historical records.

In short, LIFE is 1+1=1. Flesh without a spiritual entity is a corpse and we cannot regard a corpse as a LIFE. In the same way, a spiritual entity without flesh is a soul and neither can we regard this invisible wave as LIFE. Knowing what LIFE is, we shall now discuss its origin. We have learned about the origin of the highest LIFE in the universe - the Greatest Creator in "Time, Space, and the Universe". We have learned the origin of supreme-space LIFE and the origin of human beings from, "Humanity and Human Life". Now let us consider the origin of tangible LIFE on earth.

There are many ideas about the origins of LIFE on earth; some are that it originated from lipid molecules, from RNA, from the proto-ocean, from Venus, from deep-sea vents, from volcanoes on the earth, from outer space, that comets with water hit the earth which began it, and still others say from earth slides or lightning or from any of numerous other suggestions. Most of these explanations listed above are reasonable because metaplastic LIVES (microorganisms and fungi) are generated from the land, oceans, deep-sea vents, and volcanic zones, and not only in these special areas above, but also from soil, air, the dead bodies of plants and animals, rivers, ponds, and rubbish heaps. Trillions of them form and die daily, regardless of what the weather conditions are, and as long as the environmental conditions keep changing, new species will be generated. It can be said that the growth of populations, pollution of the environment, aggravation of the greenhouse effect, and the expansion of the hole in the ozonosphere will generate the new species, even in new bacteria expanding in large scales. Vast amounts of new bacteria may stop the ecology from worsening further or they may lead to great disasters and plagues for humanity, perhaps much worse than even Europe’s “Black Death" in the Late Middle Ages. Unlike the SARS transmitting among humans, it may contaminate millions of people simultaneously.

Besides metaplastic LIFE, hygrocolous LIFE can randomly generate from within the earth. As long as there is water, the molecular structure of soil will change and generate new LIFE. Moss, lichen, and grasses are generated thusly.

Let us focus on animals, insects, trees and flowers, and see what the origins of these LIFE forms are. Before we continue, please reread "The Greatest Creator" of Lifechanyuan. It will be very difficult to understand the origin of LIFE if you do not read this book first, for it is only when we recognize the Greatest Creator’s position properly as the highest LIFE in the universe that will we be able to clearly understand the origin of LIFE.

The universe did not start with a "Big Bang". Today’s galaxies and star systems are different from those of antiquity. Every heavenly body and galaxy in the universe has its own origin and function. As we know from fundamental physical knowledge, the total amount of energy in the universe is fixed and never varies, and perpetual motion machines are unreal. Inevitably, the motion of the moon, the earth, and the stars need to be powered by some force, but where does the primordial motive power come from? You might have a large pile of tiles, cement, and wood, but they cannot build a house without being designed and arranged by people, not to mention the intricacy of celestial bodies spinning around each other at high speeds; they could never construct star systems by themselves.

Our Solar System came into being four and a half billion years ago due to extended painstaking efforts of The Greatest Creator, Gods, and Celestial Beings. The earth was the first one formed in our Solar System. Although astronomers believe that the history of the sun is longer than that of the earth, this does not mean that the sun was the first body in the Solar System.

We all know that black holes populate the universe. Some scientists believe that black holes are magnetic vortices caused by the gravitation between two or more celestial bodies passing by each other just as with a typhoon and a tornado, but this cannot be true because black holes are aggregates of high energy matter; the more energy they have, the less tangible they will be. "Great form has no contour". We may compare black holes to batches of covered dough from which a cook has removed one piece according to his need for making a meal. The black hole is exactly that covered dough while the earth is that small piece which has been removed, and the Greatest Creator and his assistants��gods, are the cook who has removed the small piece. After the emergence of the earth, the sun was “moved” from somewhere. In order to make the earth rotate around the sun constantly, additional planets were added to the solar system. Therefore, the entire solar system exists to serve the earth. This means that humans exist on the earth but they cannot exist on other planets of the solar system. After arranging the Solar System, the gods sent down hundreds of millions of Angels (Super Celestial Beings) to terraform the earth. Water and the atmosphere were designed and created and the combination of water, air, sunlight, and soil produced a large biomass of metaplastic microbes and hygrocolous grasses on the earth, then the Super Celestial Beings began to build "pyramids". These were not the pyramids in Egypt, but ones that spread along the thirty degrees north latitude and thirty degrees south latitude in the ocean beds of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. They served as laboratories for developing LIFE on earth because they could gather effectively the special energy of the sun to speed up its growth and development.

Super Celestial Beings designed and created most of the insects, all trees and flowers, and all herbivores on earth today from within the pyramids and then transported these LIVES to every part of the earth by advanced aircraft; the whole process lasted slightly more than a billion years. In the process of creating animals, Celestial Beings found that water needed to be brought inland for the plants and animals to spread across the earth; therefore, they opened a mine to build a space station and constructed what we now see as the moon by using metals from the earth. With the moon, the earth became "alive", not only bringing an ebb and flow, wind, clouds, snow, and rain, but also illuminating the night.

After more than a billion years of creation, the earth morphed into a beautiful, rich, and prosperous paradise; it was a nearly perfect replica of the Ten-thousand-year World. Super Celestial Beings, we can call them advanced intelligent people, were very pleased with the earth that they had made and did not want to leave it, but they had to do so in order to avoid the jealousy that was forming in other "people". To protect their creation secrets, they dropped all the pyramids to the bottom of the oceans; the beautiful Continent of Atlantis disappeared forever. As for the origins of other insects, carnivores, dinosaurs, and humans, please refer to "Humanity and Human Life" of Lifechanyuan.

We can conclude that apart from the LIVES of metaplasia and humidogene, all other species on earth were designed and created separately rather than linearly by evolution, just as the tools that we use have been designed and created by people. Although unicycles, bicycles, carts, carriages, cars, and trucks share commonalities with each other, all were designed and created separately by humans. Carriages will always be carriages and can never transform into trucks, snails will always be snails and can never evolve into farm cattle and monkeys will always be monkeys and can never evolve into humans.

[belphegor1982]

How about the first chapter Tommy appears?

[Pick any passage from any fanfic I’ve written, and stick that selection in my ask/fan mail/submission box. I will then give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet!]

Thanks a lot!! (Also I answered this kind of ask about a passage from chapter 2, if you want to take a look - it’s all spoiler-free!)

Here’s Thomas Sean Ferguson’s grand introduction, then :D Oh god, it’s kind of awkward, because like with Blake there’s a certain amount of early installment weirdness. Also I go on and oooooooon (sorry about that). But let’s go!

_________

Quite lost in his thoughts this time, [Jonathan] barely registered that he was walking past the Museum (where Evy is, right now, negotiating the Cairo Museum “lending” the Diamond of Ahm Shere to the British government - which kickstarts the plot) before somebody knocked into him, hard enough for both of them to crumple, breathless, on the ground. It took Jonathan thirty seconds to get his lungs in working order again and, instinctively, check his pockets for anything missing.

A lot of this commentary risks being “this used to be [thing] before I tweaked it in the rewrites”, and a lot of it is because I’ve gained some insight in the past twelve years. Jonathan’s first thought being checking his pockets (which - and I made it explicit in the second or third paragraph of the story :D - comes from his being a skilled pickpocket himself and knowing how it works), however, was there from the very beginning.

“So sorry I bumped into you, mate, didn’t mean to,” came the voice of the attacker. Jonathan’s eyes widened at the sound of this voice and he squinted up at its owner.

And cue Tom Ferguson :D He wasn’t my first OC, far from it (that dubious honour would probably belong to the buttload of OCs I created for my Marauder era story which died when Order of the Phoenix came out), but he was the first I got to really explore and develop, and he ended up one of my favourites ever. Em, I answered an ask of yours way back in 2015, “introduce us to two of your OCs” :o) The first was him, the second was Marguerite LeBeau.

“Tommy? Is that you? Tommy Ferguson?”

The diamond is the reason the O’Connell-Carnahan gang goes to Egypt, but without Tommy, there’d be no plot. Hamilton would probably still find a way to “retrieve” the diamond from the museum, only without Evy and her family getting personally involved and then having to go back to the UK saying she failed her mission. and then cue the end of the world about a week and a half from there, but shhh - spoilers!

The fellow shook his head, still looking a bit dazed; then his own eyes, round and brown, (so he’s the opposite of Jon in almost every way, physically speaking. Like I said in the aforementioned OC ask, I designed him as a foil for Jon, fundamentally different in some ways but very similar in others. Physically speaking he’s basically Sean Astin (with some James Corden thrown in) with brown eyes, blond hair, and a Liverpool accent.) went even rounder as he stared at Jonathan. “Jon! What the hell are you doing ‘ere?”

For the longest time Tommy used to call Jonathan by his last name here (and Jon’s earlier line used to be “Ferguson? Is that you? Tommy Ferguson?”). I changed it quite recently. I think I wanted to convey the idea that school friends at the time often called each other by their last names; but since he calls Jonathan “Jon” 100% of the time - and is the only one to do so, which I have Feelings about - I went back to correct it.

“Glad to see you too, old chap,” laughed Jonathan, standing up and dusting himself off before offering a hand at the man on the ground, who accepted it gladly.

Heh. Look, one of the staples of Mummy fanfiction was and still is the old school friend of Evy’s who follows either the siblings (TM time) or the whole family (TMR/post-TMR time) to Egypt and falls in love with Ardeth Bay. I’m not throwing stones here; I’ve read a couple I really liked. There’s the odd Jonathan/OFC romance, too. What I set out to do as a baby writer (I was 21 at the time!) and unsuspecting ace was to write something completely devoid of romance (except the odd Evy/Rick snuggle and, of course, all-encompassing love for each other). And then, as I reread the story for rewrites a decade and a half later, I became more and more convinced that Jonathan and Tommy used to be more than friends, and then when Elizabeth came along the three of them got together as a thruple and very happy for a while. (For some reason I couldn’t work this explicitly into FTaH, though - it felt too much like hinting at this huge story I was never going to write and might have made FTaH much too crowded. So it’s up to the reader to decide, really. Personally, I like both options.) So here’s 37 year old me shipping Jon with a female OC and a male OC, and quite enthusiastically, at that. *chuckles* Wonder what my 21 y-o self would think of it…

He hadn’t seen Thomas Ferguson since some time after the end of the war, what felt like ages ago. They’d made quite a pair at Oxford, the two of them – the scrawny, foppish Southerner with the quiet grin and the sticky fingers, and the broad-shouldered, round-faced Scouser with the laughing eyes and the deceptively innocent face. They’d rowed for the Dark Blues for a bit, got properly pickled on Boat Race Nights, and helped each other out of many a tight spot. Oh, for the halcyon days of youth.

One of the reasons I picked up FTaH again is because the second half of 2019 was very, very British for me. I saw (and read) Good Omens for the first time in early June and my feelings exploded; July was very much about discovering the delights of P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves and Wooster (TV show and books). Halfway through that month I remembered my everlasting fondness for the characters of The Mummy and realised the protagonists and Bertie were the same generation, more or less, and I started imagining a crossover. By the time August rolled in I was fully into TM/TMR again, reading fic and my fingers itching to at least correct some iffy parts of FTaH. This last sentence, about Jon’s and Tom’s Oxford days, would never have come out that way if I hadn’t read Wodehouse.

As soon as Tommy was on his feet he was wringing Jonathan’s hand with all the energy he’d been famous for as a boy. “Sorry, Jon, mate, I was a bit stunned –” After all these years, he still retained some of that accent, too! “– En’t everyday you bump into a pal from Oxford in the middle of Cairo! How’d you get here, for starters?”

…Tommy’s accent. *sighs* I’m not a fan of writing accents phonetically in the first place. When I write Newkirk (Hogan’s Heroes) and his Cockney accent, there isn’t much except the odd “me” for “my” or things like “d’you”. I did have to make it obvious Tommy had an accent, though, if only because later Jonathan is surprised when he tones it down to speak with the curator. (This is something his 18 year old self found incredibly difficult, btw.) @thisstableground oversaw the first chapter and gave me very valuable tips, including “en’t” (// “ain’t), which was super helpful in giving Tommy’s accent its own specificity and meant that I didn’t need him to drop “h”s and “g”s all over the place. (which he does do, but hopefully not in a way that takes you away from the story.)

As for why he’s from Liverpool as opposed to, say, Manchester or the East End of London, the answer is very simple. I’d discovered the Beatles a year or two prior and they remain one of my favourite bands in the whole world ♥

“Well, I followed my sister,” Jonathan replied, grinning. In fifteen years or so, he had not realised how much he had actually missed this accent. “She’s giving a hand to the curator of the Museum of Antiquities – she’s something of an authority now, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh aye? That’s fantastic. I en’t forgotten how you’d talk about her, y’know. On and on and on. I’m curious to see what she looks like.”

Somethingthat didn’t change after rewrites is the idea that Jon was verysecretive about his Oxford years. Tom and Evy never met before this,and Evy hadn’t even heard about Tom before.

Jonathan stole a glance at the entrance steps of the Museum, and turned to Tommy with a smirk. “Really? Well, if you really want to, I suppose I could…”

His sister had just appeared on the stairs, accompanied by the curator, an elderly man with greying hair and whiskers. The curator, Dr Fahad Hakim, has a somewhat larger role later on, but this is just a cameo to let you know he exists :o) There’s another mention earlier, too. Tommy followed Jonathan’s gaze and looked at them, goggling at Evy in particular.

“Jon – are my eyes mistaken, or is this gorgeous woman Doctor Evelyn O’Connell? I’ve read about her, she’s famous in my line of work… According to what I’ve read, she was one of the first people to make it out of the City of the Dead alive –”

He doesn’t say what his “line of work” is, but we (and Jonathan) can infer it has something to do with archaeology or Egyptology. And, incidentally, I’m setting up the first alarm bells here because, as Evy points out in the following chapter, at the time her name was “Carnahan”, so how come Tommy didn’t seem to make the connection between Jon’s bookish sister and this English librarian with the same name? The answer is: because he’s nervous (because he’s in Cairo on secret Chamber of Horus business) and as delighted as he is to see Jon again after so many years his brain went “YOU KNOW NOTHING” then backpedalled and went “…OKAY, YOU KNOW SOME THINGS.”

Jonathan’s grin widened as he nodded. “Yes, that’d be her.”

Tommy rambled on as they walked closer to the stairs, “That’s bloody amazing! I thought she’d look, you know, like in the pictures in the paper, the bookish type with glasses – your typical Southern spinster,” he added with a wink. They waited for the curator to bid her goodbye, and Jonathan, greatly enjoying the situation, crept up on his sister to kiss her on the cheek.

“Hey there, old mum – how’s your day been?”

Evy started, then her expression shifted from slightly irked to a smile at her brother’s laugh. She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Jonathan, the things that amuse you…”

SIBS!!! I love writing siblings, and those two in particular. One of the things that I find amusing/endearing is how comfortable they are with each other, physically (and emotionally) speaking. It’s all gentle touch here, light slap there, running hand in hand, lots of things you wouldn’t expect from two Very English siblings from the first half of the 20th century.

“You’re just miffed that I startled you. C’mon, I’d like you to meet someone – an admirer,” he added with a grin to Tommy, who stood there, his eyes wide. “Thomas Ferguson, an old school friend of mine. Tommy – Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell, my famous baby sister.”

There’s a couple of instances where someone introduces Tom as “Thomas”, or Tom introducing himself as such. Most of the time, though, he’s “Tommy” - until chapter 9, where we spend some time in his head for the first time and see he thinks of himself as “Tom”, and when we go back to Jon’s PoV in chapter 11 Jonathan made the mental switch to “Tom”, as well, to separate the boy from his youth from the man he’s become. I actually spell it out in chapter 17: “A lot had happened since that late afternoon in Giza when his friend had pointed a gun at him and stopped being ‘Tommy’. ‘Tommy’ was a warm memory of loud laughter, daring escapes, bright eyes over pints clinking in the comfortable darkness of a well-loved pub. Tom, on the other hand, was a fairly decent man chucked into a complex situation, who had a wife he loved dearly but lied to about his job, who had not wanted to bring harm to an old friend but had done so anyway.”

Evy held out her hand, which Tommy grabbed and shook heartily. “So you’re the old scoundrel’s sister? No wonder he talked about you – though you don’t quite fit the description now…”

“What exactly did you tell your ‘school friends’ about me?” asked Evy, warning in her voice, though the twinkle in her eye did not quite disappear. Nevertheless, Jonathan preferred to ignore her question, earning a hard nudge in the ribs.

He bragged, actually. A lot. Since he thought Tommy and Lizzie would never meet Evy, Jonathan considered himself free to speak quite enthusiastically of his baby sister’s achievements and how bright she was. Of course, he also complained a good deal, because even at 12 Evy had a penchant for being bossy that came out even in letters.

“So, what did you say your ‘line of work’ was?” he asked Tommy.

“Well – don’t laugh. I work at the British Consulate in Cairo, specialising in antique stuff. Oh, I’m sorry, Dr O’Connell,” he stammered with a glance at Evy who had an eyebrow raised, “I mean I’m one of the chief agents in the British Antique Research Department.”

No he’s not! He’s actually a secret agent, kinda :D And not remotely close to a “chief agent”, at that. Tom Ferguson is deeply in love with his wife and nothing will ever change that state of affairs, but he might have a little intellectual crush on Evy, which leads him to… wanting to impress her a little bit.

“I’ve heard of you!” exclaimed Evy. “At least of that Research Department. They’re gradually cutting off public funds – encouraging individual financing – but that won’t do any good for scientific research! Such a stupid decision is only going to –”

“So you lot are the ones she kept fuming about for half a year!” Jonathan snorted. The infamous Ferguson rotten luck struck again.

I still regret I didn’t find more opportunities to showcase how ridiculously unlucky Tommy could get sometimes. Ah well.

Tommy looked dejected. Evy must have seen this, because she bit her lip and said, in softer tones, “Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you. But as my brother said, I’ve been… rather upset over this. There’s been some pressure on the British Museum lately by private patrons who threatened to pull out their funding on some… sensitive collections. Without the Crown to back us up, we might have to cave in to their ridiculous demands.”

Before the rewrites, Evy’s speech used to be a lot more “private funding is bad” without much nuance or justification. I changed it to something that hopefully makes sense and justifies her previous outburst. 

“I’ll – I’ll tell my superiors about it,” said Tommy, still looking unsure. “See what I can do. I’m sure it won’t be much, but… Well. I’ll have tried.”

“That’s nice,” Evy said cheerfully, taking Jonathan’s arm and starting to walk. See what I mean about physicality? She doesn’t even ask him with a look, just takes his arm and that’s that. And he lets her, because he’d do the same thing. “Look, the two of you – I’ve had something of a rough day, so I’ll go home, if you don’t mind. You can –”

“Brilliant idea!” said Jonathan, flashing a grin at his sister. “I thought of going to the Sultan’s Casbah, but you might find it a tad – let’s say – dingy, my good friend.”

The Sultan’s Casbah, in the novelisation of the film and my personal headcanon, was the bar Jonathan patronised the night before the first time we see Evy and where he stole a valuable-looking puzzle box from an unsuspecting drunk American. 

“Worse than the Turf?” Seeing Evy’s puzzled look, Tommy explained, “Sorry, private joke. I mean the Turf Tavern, that’s where I saw him for the first time. Me family didn’t ‘ave much money, so I used to work there to pay for my studies. Very nice pub, didn’t deserve the reputation.”

The Best Beloved and I took a trip to Oxford in the spring of 2003 (by bus - 20 hours to get there, same to come back home) and while we were so broke we had to settle for a soup and some rice in a lovely Thai restaurant we did go for a drink at the Turf. I remember a dimly-lit room with dark wood, and I think either they changed a lot of it or my memory isn’t that good because it doesn’t really look like that on the Google Maps pics. Still, I liked it, and when I needed an Oxford pub for the story it’s the one I worked in. Incidentally, there was a lot of illegal gambling going on in there in the 19th century, hence Tommy’s mention of the pub’s bad reputation.

“I’m sure you did indeed see a lot of my brother there,” Evy slipped in slyly. Jonathan threw a mock glare at her.

“To think you are almost my only family. What a shame.” Then, as Tommy looked uncertain, he added, “Carry on, Tom.”

“All right. So I was one of the only students who needed a job, and there were some others who thought that it was – how’d they put it? – a ‘disgrace’ to our university.”

“Preposterous,” said Evy sternly. “As if money could take you further than talent.”

Jonathan bit back on the cynical comment that crossed his mind. Sometimes Evy’s naïveté baffled him.

“Right,” said Tommy uncertainly, glancing at Jonathan. “So, one day, a little bunch of lads come in, and Jon here was sometimes hanging with ‘em at the time –”

Because Jonathan likes to gamble with people with deep pockets :P

Evy glared at Jonathan in advance, and he threw his hands in the air. “Don’t look at me like that! I haven’t done anything!” Evy’s gaze softened, and Jonathan finished, “…Yet.”

That earned him a playful slap on the arm, and a laugh from Tommy, who went on, “Anyway, one of the blokes orders somethin’ or other, and starts to poke fun at me. Well, I was used to it, so I let them be. Then they continued, and I finally noticed that skinny lad in the corner who was makin’ fun of them for making fun of me. Didn’t quite understand what the hell was going on – oh, sorry, Dr O’Connell – what was happening.”

While John Hannah is not “skinny” by any stretch, he is rather svelte, and one of my unimpeachable headcanons for Jonathan is that he was skinny as a rake in his youth - until he went through basic training (then WW1) and his shoulders filled out a little. It’s more or less what happened to the Best Beloved, so I feel quite secure in this headcanon’s plausibility. Plus, picturing 18 year old Jonathan as a mix of awkward gangliness and skinny limbs and aristocratic poise is just funny. (and I find the comparison with Tommy - who at that point was soft and a little chubby but already had broad shoulders - rather endearing.)

Evy smiled. “You’ll have to watch your mouth in front of my son, but otherwise it’s fine. And please, call me Evelyn.”

Tommy beamed. “Right, uh, Evelyn. So, uh –”

“What he didn’t know at that point,” interrupted Jonathan, “was that I had my eye on that fellow – what’s his name – Farbow. He owed me quite a bit of money, but wouldn’t repay me. So I was looking for a way to get him back for it.”

“And get the rest of his wallet in the process, of course.”

“Evy, he owed me seventeen pounds. (Which used to be £70 until I did some research and saw that £17 was A Bloody Fortune a the time.) And he was not what I’d call a ‘decent bloke’ – nasty, disdainful piece of work he was, and his little friends with him. Always a dirty word about the Scouser who worked at the Turf Tavern, just because he didn’t belong to his snobby little world. I did the community a favour, really.”

What he doesn’t say is that Edwin Farbow also had a lot to say about “half-Egyptian mongrels” who thought they belonged in those ancient walls. Too bad I couldn’t find a way to work it in this particular fic. If I ever manage to finish at least Tommy’s part of One-Step, Two-Step, Waltz, the first chapter of Pirouette features the whole scene.

“Don’t push it, Jonathan,” warned Evy.

Tommy carried on. “Well, I was glad there was at least one person who didn’t think like Edwin Farbow – nice change. Then Farbow said something – I don’t remember what it was about, I just remember it made me really angry, really. An’ it’s not a pretty sight when I’m really angry at someone.”

It’s always the quiet, genial ones, isn’t it.

Jonathan remembered, but thought it wise to keep his mouth shut.

Both because what Farbow said was pretty damn offensive to Tommy’s character, background, and lineage, and also because Farbow’s rant included “It’s bad enough they let inpeople like Carnahan, who only exists because a glorifiedgrave-robber shagged some darkey and didn’t even have the decencyto pretend otherwise –” and he really doesn’t want to bring this up in front of Evy, who’s had to deal with her own share of this kind of racist bullshit and doesn’t need a reminder.

“An’ – an’ I just lost it, y’know? I dropped his tea over his ‘ead –”

“I say, that one was pretty funny,” Jonathan said, smiling widely at the memory. The strangled yelp that had followed had definitely been one of the best parts.

“So they all leaped for me, obviously – began to punch me, the five or six of them – hey, I still managed to get back at them!” Tommy added quickly, as if defending his honour. Evy hid a smile, and it occurred to Jonathan that that last sentence had something very Rick-like about it. “But I en’t a fool. I know a losing fight when I’m in one.”

“Don’t tell me. Jonathan bravely threw himself into the fight to take on as many attackers as possible.” There was mischievous laughter in Evy’s voice, and her eyes were twinkling. If anyone other than her had quipped that way about him, Jonathan would probably have taken offence, or at least pretended to. But they knew each other enough not to cross the line.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Well, that wasn’t quite Jon’s style – I don’ know, might’ve changed since then. But yeah, he did. One moment I was squashed under five or six, the next I found out we were two on the floor.”

This was perhaps the biggest suspension of disbelief I’m asking the reader to make - which, in a story where governments have secret agencies to keep an eye on magical ancient artefacts and a diamond has magic powers, is saying something. Jonathan throwing himself into a fight because someone he loves (ie. four people in the whole world that we know of) is in danger? Yep, that checks out, that’s what he does both in TM and TMR. But an (almost) complete stranger? I needed one hell of a justification. Which ended up… 60% Farbow’s money and 40% Farbow being a giant arsehole who had no business making decent bartenders look like that.

Evy began to laugh. “Why, Jonathan? My Jonathan, in a fight, for someone he barely knew?”

At that Jonathan cleared his throat, a mite embarrassed. “I told you, I was looking for Farbow’s wallet. That was the perfect diversion – you should’ve seen that twit looking in every corner for his lost wallet afterwards. It was three months before he gave up.” And it’s lucky you didn’t see me then. I was a bloody mess. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing.” Evy smiled. “You never told me that.”

To be fair, there’s a LOT of things he never told you, old girl ;o)

“Should I have?”

“I don’t know, it’s – it was nice of you to do that, even for the wrong reasons. I’m proud of you.”

Jonathan felt an unexpected lump rise in his throat. Not a very big one, but enough to keep him from talking for a few seconds. It was always like this whenever she said something really nice to him. It caught him off guard each and every time.

Look, it took me years to realise it, but I’m a sucker for validation. Sometimes it bleeds out on characters I write.

After a little while, Evy stopped in front of a door and announced, “Well, we’re home.”

“Nice house,” commented Tommy, taking in the sand-coloured neat front and the curtains at the windows.

“Our ‘old haunt’ since the family moved to Egypt,” Jonathan said, opening the door and stepping aside to let his sister in. “Evy wasn’t even walking then.”

In the first film, Evy, Rick, Jonathan and the remainder of the American party go straight to Fort Brydon, and the next thing we see is Evy emptying her suitcase while Rick tries to fill it. Since both Carnahan siblings actually live in Cairo, I thought they would live in an actual house, and from there I extrapolated that the family had one house in England (the manor we see in TMR) and a smaller pied-à-terre in Cairo.

“I do believe I was,” Evy protested.

Jonathan snorted. “Oh, you weren’t. You crawled.”

si b l i n gssss ♥♥ And like, you can always count on a big sib to remind you that you could be ridiculous as a kid. I should know, I’m the big sister :D

Evy seemed to resist the urge to slap her brother and walked into the living room, her nose in the air. She was greeted by two simultaneous voices:

“Mum!”

“Hey, hon.”

Rick’s first words in this story, and it’s greeting his wife ^^ I didn’t do it on purpose, but it’s. Y’know. There.

Jonathan waited a few seconds, then walked into the room in turn, and grinned at the sight of his nephew looking genuinely eager to see him. He was not fooled, however – as soon as Evy wasn’t looking, Alex mouthed the words “Got one?” and frowned as his uncle shook his head. No, he still had no present for Mum’s birthday.

Evy’s birthday mainly originated as a device to get characters (especially Jonathan) moving. It’s the reason he’s roaming the streets of Cairo just before he bumps into Tommy, and why he and Alex go to the bazaar in chapter 5. It also pops up further on in the story, but I’m not saying anything because spoilers.

“Uncle Jon? Who’s that?”

“Who, him?” Jonathan pointed at Tommy behind him, looking uncomfortable at the family reunion, and Alex rolled his eyes. “Tom Ferguson, he was in class with me at Oxford. I ran into him by chance today.”

Tommy stepped past Jonathan and held out his hand to Alex, nearest to him. ��Hi – glad to meet you. Jon’s nephew, eh?”

“Yeah,” said Alex, eyeing him with all the suspicion of a ten-year-old who’d seen what he had seen. Behind him, Rick’s eyes spoke loads about his own distrust. But mistrust towards Jonathan and everything related was par for the course on his part, and, admittedly, reasonable.

Alex has Seen Things. This may sound tongue-in-cheek, but it’s true. After what happened in TMR, he’s 100% entitled to being suspicious of strangers. As for Rick, I took my cue from one of his first lines to Jon in TMR being “What did you do this time?” implying that the weird shit happening right now, with the men in red and the sexy lady waving snakes around isn’t exactly unheard of. Hence the “and, admittedly, reasonable”, which I added in the rewrites.

“Thomas Ferguson, British Antique Research Department,” said Tommy, holding out a hand towards Rick, who shook it slowly, still reluctant.

“Rick O’Connell.”

“So you’re Dr O’Connell’s husband? Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m impressed, you’ve no idea.”

Rick raised an eyebrow. “Impressed?”

“It seems I’m rather famous in the Research Department,” said Evy, laughing.

“Make that infamous,” quipped Jonathan.

“The Department owes your wife a great deal. She was the one who uncovered a huge amount of our information about some obscure periods of Egyptian history, as well as the major part of serious knowledge we’ve got on Hamunaptra,” Tommy pointed out, and Evy blushed. “She’s a legend – one of the original three who managed to go to Hamunaptra and live to tell the tale! But… I assume you’re another one?”

Oh, Tommy. MATE. You’re saying you know three people made it out of Hamunaptra alive, one of whom a woman with the exact same first and last name as your best friend’s sister who had a passion for ancient history, but you had no idea he was one of them as well? 

Incidentally, the early installment weirdness I mentioned earlier mostly consists in Tommy being a lot more energetic and innocent-looking than he later proves to be (which is a little more grounded and pragmatic than Jon). In fact, he and Jonathan’s first couple of scenes together give the impression that he’s the red and Jon’s the blue in the “Bue oni, red oni” trope, when later chapters show Jon as a little bit more of a disaster while Tom struggles to make better choices and be more sensible. Which in the end would make them shades of purple, really.

“Yeah,” said Rick, looking a bit nonplussed. Jonathan definitely didn’t regret bringing Tommy in. Seeing Rick O’Connell confused was a very rare occurrence, too rare to be missed.

“I never knew – who was the third one?”

Jonathan was now struggling to keep a straight face. Rick blinked, and pointed at his brother-in-law. “That was him.”

“You!?” God, the look on his face was priceless. “You were at Hamunaptra?”

“Yes,” risked Jonathan, laughter rising in his voice. “And believe me, it wasn’t exactly a picnic. Oh, by the way, there were four of us, not three.”

Meaning Ardeth, of course. My take is that Tommy - and by extension the Chamber of Horus - know about as much about the Medjai as Evy knew about the Book of Amun-Ra prior to the events of TM: a non-negligible amount of information, but all of it second-hand and some of it a bit dicey.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Rick roll his eyes and grinned, undaunted. This was proving to be a fun evening.

Make the most of it, people, because it’s all going to go downhill fast…

Thank you ♥♥♥

[royaljeongin]

Les lettres d’amour

les lettres d’amour (the love letters) / one shot

pairing: yuta x female!reader 

genres: angst, fluff, fuckboy!yuta, college!au, roommates!au

word count: 3.5k

warning: alcohol, language, drunk sex (no smut though srry)

summary: “you should have never read this.” or when everything goes downhill after your really hot roommate finds your love letters one day.

a/n: proud of this one, probably one of my best works. (kinda inspired by tatilb, i just love the book series so much!) last edit: 18.09.16

[ masterlist ]

your apartment was a mess, boxes were scattered all over your old apartment because it was moving day. you were helping the movers put the boxes in their truck. you were forced to leave the apartment because the rent was getting impossible to pay. thankfully, you found another one, it was perfect. it was spacious enough, closer to school and the rent was significantly cheaper because you split it with a roommate which was perfect for the typical broke college student. 

you only met the landlord, an old lady who owned the complex for over thirty years. she had strands of animal fur on her clothes because of the stray cats that hung out around the building. she had a bright smile so you weren’t worried about the landlord. you were more worried about the owner of your new living space that you still haven’t met. 

you hoped that they would be nice and respectful, obviously. you wish that your roommate would study in the same field of science as you so that you guys had at least one thing in common. ideally a girl because you really did not know how to interact with people of the opposite gender. yes from your twenty something years of your existence, you still were clueless about how to keep up a conversation with a guy, let alone befriend them. 

it was not rare for you, though, to develop crushes.you never did anything with them because you were always hoping that they would magically notice you and fall for your “quirky” personality. your current one was nakamoto yuta. yes, the captain who got a scholarship because of his outstanding soccer skills. the japanese guy with the charming smile. he was also in the same major as you, biotechnology. every time you saw him in class, he exuded with such confidence that made him extremely attractive. and honestly, you would die for his smile. you loved it. rumours said that he hooked up with a lot of girls, ranging from freshmen to seniors. it was not in your habits to develop crushes on “players” but you really couldn’t help yourself. 

you crushed so hard that you let your feelings flow through words on paper. you weren’t too good at writing, your word choices weren’t always the fanciest but it perfectly conveyed your feelings in a simple manner. you wrote five total. all stored in a shoe box where you put all of your precious belongings. if the building was burning down and you could only save one thing, it would be the shoe box.

you entered the apartment. it was squeaky clean. the smell of cologne was subtle and wasn’t overpowering (just like you liked it). you walked around and visited every room. you went into the bathroom. you opened the cabinet and found shaving cream, razors and skincare for men. you were now more curious about your roommate and wondered who could it be.

you quickly settled in. you didn’t like when things got messy and laid everywhere on the floor. you unpacked as much as you could. after three hours, you were practically done. you just had to organize your clothes by colour. while you hung the last piece of clothing on your rack, you could hear the door getting unlocked. you hurried to greet your roommate to make a good first impression.

you heart was beating from excitement and nervousness. when the person entered, you introduced yourself with a “hello, my name is-“ and before you said your name, you were shocked at who was standing in front of you, he was holding the apartment keys. you blinked twice to make sure it was him.

the long messy hair, the intense gaze, it was definitely him. his arm were around the waist of a girl you never saw, probably an art student. you heard he was a sucker for art girls. one eye contact exchanged with him made you understand that you should be leaving. embarrassed, you bowed, took your bag and left. 

the moment you stepped foot out of your entrance, you received texts from your best friend, yerim, to meet up at a place to catch up. you were so caught up by the moving and the endless assignments that you basically did not have a social life. 

you joined your friend at a cute trendy restaurant and ordered your food. it didn’t take long before she asked you who your roommate was.

“it’s yuta,” you said while taking a bite of that cheeseburger.

yerim almost choked on her milkshake. 

“yuta as in nakamoto yuta?”

you nodded your head. she knew of your huge crush on him. you were always gushing about this boy.

“i wasn’t even able to greet him! the moment he entered the apartment, he was holding some girl.”

“do you wish to be that girl?” she teased. you hit her shoulder and yerim winced in pain. 

you unlocked the door, hoping that the girl would be gone. it’s been literally 6 hours since you left. you placed the shoes on the mat. the heels from the girl were not there anymore. you checked the clock. 

12:23 am

“hey princess, i’m nakamoto yuta.” he was at the dining table eating some fried chicken. you tried to be calm when he called you princess. you told yourself that he probably set that nickname for every girl and that it didn’t mean anything.

“hello! i am y/l/n y/n,”

“sorry about earlier.” 

you shrugged, you didn’t really care but it was kind of a dick move to bring a girl when you just moved in. you sat in front of him, took a piece of fried chicken and ate it. yuta looked offended that you took a piece of his chicken without permission.

“you gotta make up for earlier, that was awkward for me.”

he took your excuse.

silence.

“ok so let’s set some ground rules.”

he nodded his head.

“don’t bring home girls when i’m there, at least, don’t let me see the face of the girl you are gonna hook up with.”

“ok my turn, i do the laundry and you do the folding!” he smiled brightly.

“wait let me take a piece of paper, i need to note that down,” you said while grabbing a pen and cute paper from your stationery collection. you loved collecting pens, washi tapes, paper, sticky notes...

twenty minutes later, you finally settled on some ground rules.

1. yuta needs to be subtle when he brings girls home.

2. yuta is in charge of the laundry.

3. y/n does the folding.

4. both are responsible for cleaning the shared space.

5. y/n and yuta take turns for the cooking because they both suck at it!

both of you were happy with the rules and even shook hands to seal the contract. when you both touched hands, it finally sunk in. yuta, your crush, was your roommate. you thought this only happened in books or movies but here you are.

that night, you could barely sleep. you were thinking of when yuta smiled at you brightly. you never saw it up close but gosh was it ten times more beautiful. you liked how his eye lit up. you even wrote another letter that night and carefully putting in the shoe box.

a few months passed, you guys got a lot closer because of the time spent together. on friday nights, you guys frequently watched movies and anime together. cozied up while catching up to hunter x hunter together. when you both got tired of it, you either watched sci-fi films (his personal favourites) or rom-coms (your favourites). you couldn’t help yourself but get bored while watching sci-fis so you always ended up sleeping on his lap while wearing his hoodie that you stole from folding the clothes. the next morning, he wasn’t there because he always woke up early every day to practice at the soccer field.

college was still kicking your ass, so it wasn’t rare now to see you in the library finishing a last minute assignment or studying for the next exam. thankfully, yuta and you both had the same majors, so you guys always encouraged each other with several cups of iced coffes and forced yourselves to not procrastinate. contrary to a lot of people’s beliefs, he took his studies at heart and worked incredibly hard.

if you weren’t watching tv nor studying on fridays, yuta dragged you into those college parties. he made sure that your social life wasn’t stagnant. it pushed you out of your comfort zone. going to a lot of them forced you to interact with other students and you were even able to befriend some. you eventually ended up becoming friends with yuta’s best friend, sicheng also known as winwin. 

you enjoyed drinking cheap beer but you always passed out because you were a really light drinker. your roommate always carried you on his back and you always woke up the next morning feeling extremely hungover but with a clean face; the smudged eyeliner and concealer disappeared. he would take the time to clean your makeup off and you appreciated that so much.

the amount of time you spent outside of school sparked some rumours that you guys had something special going on. at least, on the stage of seeing each other. yuta always posted some pics of you on his instagram and you carelessly wore his hoodies to class. but it was also because he also brought a significantly smaller amount of girls at home; it’s been maybe a month since he did and you were happy about it because hearing girls moan and scream his name wasn’t the most pleasant when you were just trying to study. the guy always denied the rumours while you were wishing that he, at least, would have a small crush on you.

spending that much time with him definitely made you fall for him deeper. you found out a lot of quirks that made him endearing. like how he was always fed the stray cats. the fact that he didn’t sleep with any pillows made him even more unique than what he already was. you also liked it when he put on your favorite earrings of his. and him calling you princess never failed to make your heart beat.

you were currently completing your eye makeup look while listening to a random playlist. yerim was still deciding on what to wear. you let her choose her outfit from your closet because she claimed that she didn’t had anything to wear anymore (her closet was huge though). she was trying to find the perfect pair of boots to match her clothes when she found a shoe box. she couldn’t help but open it and found the letters.

you were still focused on getting your eyebrows even so she rapidly shoved them in her handbag then, excused herself to go to the bathroom. yerim locked the door and started reading your letters. amazed would be an understatement for how long you had feelings for the campus’ japanese prince. one of the letters were even from freshman year! your best friend didn’t want to let those letters go to waste so she sneakily slid them under his bedroom door, a smirk plastered on her face.

there was a change of dynamics between you and yuta and you had absolutely no idea why. he was distancing from you. he didn’t let you fall asleep on his lap anymore nor was he much excited about watching anime together with you. you didn’t know where you screwed up and you badly wanted to fix things but didn’t know where to begin.

you told yourself that you just had to let him alone for a while and everything would be back to normal again in two or three days. 

after a whole week, things were still the same. you became so desperate that you naturally drifted away from him. no more movies on friday nor going to parties together nor studying late at the library. you hung out with sicheng more though. it didn’t take much time before you confided all of your feelings to him. he assured you that yuta appreciated you and suggested that you should talk to yuta. you were probably exacerbating the whole situation by not talking to him but you couldn’t understand his actions and it felt too overwhelming thinking how you guys currently acted like strangers living in the same space in a short amount of time, to the point, you did all of your own chores. you eventually ended up giving back his hoodies, even though you were emotionally attached to them due to their smell. it exactly smelled like him and you loved it.

he also went back to his old habits, he brought home girls but he was respectful and tried to do do it as discreetly as possible and avoided doing it when you were around. it wasn’t rare that you had bad nights of sleep because of how much noise it got during the night. thankfully, it never lasted too long.

your didn’t go to parties nor friends to meet up (yerim is always busy) so you didn’t have anything to do of your friday nights anymore so you cleaned your room, especially your closet. you thought it would be a good time to do spring cleaning. it made you think of things other than yuta. he was only a being lingering in the back of your mind. 

when you got rid of those platforms that you never wore, you saw the shoe box. you slowly opened it, you swear that you could’ve let out a scream right now. you were internally freaking out because there was nothing in the box.

and everything added up.

the way yerim encouraged you to talk to yuta. the way he ignored you. it all made sense. your best friend probably shoved the letters under his door when you were busy doing your makeup. you tried to get get mad at her because it kinda ruined your relationship but you couldn’t bring yourself to it, she was probably trying to make this work.

you wailed all night under your bed sheets while listening to meaningless exchanges out of pure lust through the thin walls. he was never supposed to read those letters because you were scared that this would happen, that you would lose him.

never in your life, you thought you’d find yourself in the bedroom where a party was hosted, completely drunk, sucking someone you only vaguely knew the name of. it was something like jaehyun, you had no idea. what you heard were only grunts and fucks. you honestly didn’t know what you were doing, and why you were doing this. the effect of alcohol was taking a toll on you.

when you and jaehyun were done, you didn’t feel anything. you only thought of yuta. you were only reminiscing him feeding the stray cats, him holding the cup of iced coffee for you and him playing with your hair when you were studying because he wanted to take a break. it was always him and he was always on your mind. 

sicheng probably sensed something wrong when he didn’t see you for a whole hour. and he finally found you in the bathtub, crying, your mascara was ruined. to be honest, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

sicheng texted yuta. your roommate quickly came over to bring you home. yuta’s gaze softened when he saw you crying, he felt bad that he wasn’t here to emotionally support you. 

“come on princess, let’s go home,” he said softly.

you nodded. he successfully dragged you out of the bathroom. he was carrying you on his back, your chin was rested on his shoulder. his cologne felt like home. you were barely able to, but still mumbled words like “i miss you.” and “i love you.” under your breath. he quietly walked to the apartment complex. he tensed up when you said something about you sucking jaehyun’s dick and how you didn’t feel anything afterwards but it filled the hole of your heart, that represented yuta, for a short while.

he took off your makeup and put you to bed, when he was about to leave the room. you let out a wait! come here please. he got closer to you.

“what princess?”

you took clumsy steps and could now feel yuta’s breath on your skin. you tiptoed to be able to kiss him but he stopped you and made you lay in bed. 

“yuta, am i that repulsive? is that why you don’t want to kiss me?” you asked while whimpering. 

“no, no, i just don’t want you to regret your actions because of the effect of alcohol. i don’t want to take advantage of you. i am not that type of guy. let’s talk about this tomorrow okay princess? dream well.”

he turned the lights off and you doze off.

you woke up with a huge headache. last night was a blur for you. you checked your phone. you received tons of texts from jaehyun and everything was crystal clear now. you wanted to crawl under your bed forever due to embarrassment. you couldn’t believe you said all of these things to yuta.

you forced yourself out of your bed. you prepared a simple breakfast: toast and orange juice. yuta had practices on saturday so you didn’t really see him. you received a notification from yerim.

yerim: girl, are you okay? i heard from sicheng that you drank a lot yesterday.

you: yeah, i did. yuta brought me home so we are cool but i did embarrassing things...

you told her all of the events that happened yesterday from beginning to end.

yerim: y/n, you should just tell yuta in real life that you like him. what are you so scared of?

you: have u ever heard of the word rejection?

yerim: you are so dumb to think that he isn’t head over heels for you.

you: how do you know that huh?

yerim: full offense but everyone knows that he is whipped for you. it’s been the talk of the school for weeks. he smiles so much around you. AND he posts about you on his instagram when y’all aren’t even dating??? you guys basically acted like a COUPLE. just square up bitch.

yerim: and even if he rejected you, it wouldn’t hurt as much..

yerim: i am coming over btw, soccer team is in the finals and we need to cheer for them. he’ll be very happy to see you in the crowd tonight, i assure you (;

you smiled, you loved watching him play soccer. he was so focused and you admired that.

you and yerim arrived at the field ten minutes before the match started. thankfully, you were able to get two seats at the front, where you could see them the best. yuta saw you and waved. you asked your best friend to keep your stuff safe and walked up to him, a letter in your right hand.

you felt your heart beating faster every time you took walked closer and closer to him.

“hey yuta! i u-urm have something to tell you,” you said shyly.

he raised one of his eyebrow, waiting for what you had to tell him. you were obviously nervous and before you could even utter a word, the coach yelled at you for disturbing practice time.

fuck it, you thought. you gave the letter in his hands.

“only read this when you guys win! promise me.” you couldn’t let him answer because you quickly ran back to the bleachers. the match was about to start so he put the letter in his bag and got in line, ready to bow. the whistle started blowing.

all of the players were somehow moving gracefully and the ball was always moving smoothly. you were always amazed at how yuta was so concentrated, there was determination in his eyes and you really admired how serious he got when he wanted something. this time, he wanted to win, badly. the match was intense, both of the teams had similar skills, so it was hard to predict who would take home the trophy. there were only five minutes left and there was a tie. your heart was beating, you were seriously hoping that your uni would win.

your team currently had control of the ball and were trying to pass to the offensive part. yukhei, one of the teammates passed the ball to yuta and literally two seconds before the end, he was able to shoot the ball to the net. everyone held their breaths back until the score board had its final buzz, changing the score from 2-2 to 3-2. 

all of the crowd went crazy, they were all cheering loudly. your college team just won the nationals! the teammates all shook hands with every opponent. when the trophy was handed to yuta, team captain, his teammates all stood around him. they were celebrating between themselves, all of the blood, sweat and tears were suddenly worth it and the trophy was only the tip of the iceberg.

when yuta saw you, he ran to you. hugged you. he was overjoyed. 

“now you can tell me what was in that letter.” he whispered into your ears.

you broke the hug, and were finally able to admire his face. sweat was dripping from his hair, making his skin extremely dewy. he had the smile where his teeth showed. he was literally glowing.

“dear yuta, i  love you for an infinite amount of reasons and i hope you feel the same.” you never thought in your life that you would be confessing to a boy.

“dear y/n, i am in love with you. i always brought girls home because i wanted to get over you but i couldn’t because you drive me crazy y/n. especially yesterday, you looked like a mess but you were still pretty.”

he didn’t need to say more because your heart was ready to burst from happiness. you tiptoed and kissed him. he held your waist. he was excellent at this. when you finished, yukhei yelled “finally! they’re officially together.” followed by the team cheering. 

“oh and i am taking your hoodies back.” you murmured in his ears.

[commodorecliche]

Gimme all the book recs Please :D

yaaaaaaaaaaaas okay great. i love sharing books i love.  

1. The Thief of Always - Clive BarkerGenre: Dark FantasyBig personal favorite of mine. My father read this to me when I was a kid, and it literally has stuck with me since then. Every now and then I go back and reread it just for fun. It’s a wonderfully spooky little story, accompanied by some really lovely and somewhat off-kilter illustrations. Much like Coraline, it’s a novel that is a fable for children, and a tale of terror for adults.

After a mysterious stranger promises to end his boredom with a trip to the magical Holiday House, ten-year-old Harvey learns that his fun has a high price.

2. House of Leaves - Mark Z. DanielewskiGenre: Postmodernism, horrorHands down an absolute favorite. This is a book I literally recommend to everyone. This is a book that made me viscerally uncomfortable, at times I didn’t even sleep in the same room as it. I made it sleep in the living room. There is nothing overtly terrifying about the book, but its format and its unsettlingly immersive nature will lead you down a road unlike any other. 

In 1997, Johnny Truant has stumbled upon a chest full of scrap papers that had once belonged to a man named Zampono. The papers aren’t just scraps though, they’re a chaotic but detailed transcription of a series called the Navidson Record. The Navidson Record is a series of videos made by a family who has discovered that their new house appears to change dimensions almost daily, it has hallways that shouldn’t exist, doors that should lead outside but instead lead into nothingness. Johnny attempts to re-order and reconstruct Zampono’s papers, and along the way begins to lose himself as well. 

3. The Postmortal - Drew MagaryGenre: Science Fiction, Postmodern DystopiaReally funny, really dark, and full of a surprising amount of morality and humanity in a pre-apocalyptic world. 

Imagine a near future where a cure for aging is discovered and-after much political and moral debate-made available to people worldwide. Immortality, however, comes with its own unique problems-including evil green people, government euthanasia programs, a disturbing new religious cult, and other horrors.    

4. Horrorstor - Grady HendrixGenre: Comedy, HorrorHonestly this book is just balls to the wall fun. It’s a horror novel that’s laid out like the world’s most messed up IKEA catalog. Spooky at times, ridiculous and funny, at times moving, while also offering great social commentary on consumerism and the the current status of retail workers. 

Something strange is happening at the Orsk furniture superstore in Cleveland, Ohio. Every morning, employees arrive to find broken Kjerring bookshelves, shattered Glans water goblets, and smashed Liripip wardrobes. Sales are down, security cameras reveal nothing, and store managers are panicking. To unravel the mystery, three employees volunteer to work a nine-hour dusk-till-dawn shift. In the dead of the night, they’ll patrol the empty showroom floor, investigate strange sights and sounds, and encounter horrors that defy the imagination. 

5. Rant - Chuck PalahniukGenre: Science Fiction, Horror, SatireThis is a book I read several years ago and that I still think about from time to time. I haven’t had time to sit down and reread it, but parts of it still resonate with me today. This is a very peculiar story and it is told in a rather peculiar fashion (it is an oral history, and as such is told in a very conversational way by a number of different characters with a wide variety of thoughts and opinions on the titular Rant. It’s hard to properly describe this book, but let’s just say it’s been in my reread list for a while now. 

Buster “Rant” Casey just may be the most efficient serial killer of our time. A high school rebel, Rant Casey escapes from his small town home for the big city where he becomes the leader of an urban demolition derby called Party Crashing. Rant Casey will die a spectacular highway death, after which his friends gather the testimony needed to build an oral history of his short, violent life. 

6. John Dies at the End - David WongGenre: Comedy, Horror, Dark FantasyHoly god what do I even say about this book? It is just hilariously and marvelously insane. A perfect mix of cosmic fantasy, horror, comedy, and lunacy, and I loved every minute of reading it. I still have the rest of the series lined up to read, too!

The drug is called Soy Sauce and it gives users a window into another dimension. John and I never had the chance to say no. You still do. I’m sorry to have involved you in this, I really am. But as you read about these terrible events and the very dark epoch the world is about to enter as a result, it is crucial you keep one thing in mind: None of this was my fault. 

7. Sphere - Michael CrichtonGenre: Science Fiction, Deep Sea HorrorThis is one I actually JUST finished, and I absolutely adored it. I had a couple small complaints about it, but overall, it was a wonderful read and very engrossing. Plus, I’m always a sucker for deep sea horror. 

A group of American scientists are rushed to a huge vessel that has been discovered resting on the ocean floor in the middle of the South Pacific. What they find defies their imaginations and mocks their attempts at logical explanation. It is a spaceship of phenomenal dimensions, apparently, undamaged by its fall from the sky. And, most startling, it appears to be at least three hundred years old…. 

8. I, Lucifer - Glen DuncanGenre: Religious Fantasy, Occult FictionThis book is incredibly well researched, thought out, and characterized, as well as funny and extremely thought-provoking. I’d never expected to see a story that would give me a realistic and modern look into the Devil’s side of the story. I especially never expected to see a story that would make the Devil learn what it is to be human, either. All in all just an A+, fantastical read. 

The Prince of Darkness has been given one last shot at redemption, provided he can live out a reasonably blameless life on earth. Highly sceptical, naturally, the Old Dealmaker negotiates a trial period - a summer holiday in a human body, with all the delights of the flesh. The body, however, turns out to be that of Declan Gunn, a depressed writer living in Clerkenwell, interrupted in his bath mid-suicide. Ever the opportunist, and with his main scheme bubbling in the background, Luce takes the chance to tap out a few thoughts - to straighten the biblical record, to celebrate his favourite achievements, to let us know just what it’s like being him. Neither living nor explaining turns out to be as easy as it looks. Beset by distractions, miscalculations and all the natural shocks that flesh is heir to, the Father of Lies slowly begins to learn what it’s like being us. 

9. The Wasp Factory - Iain BanksGenre: Psychological HorrorLook, I want to say this right off the bat. This book is… not for everyone. Trust me when I say this is an extremely dark book with a lot of dark content. I would say that if you have any potential triggers, you may want to message me first and I will give you a better rundown of what all this book entails. This is a true piece of horror fiction. But it’s also incredible. I ate this book up in about two days and it is one of my favorite pieces of dark fiction to date. So yeah, chat with me if you have any concerns, but if you enjoy truly dark fiction, then this is up your alley. 

Two years after I killed Blyth I murdered my young brother Paul, for quite different and more fundamental reasons than I’d disposed of Blyth, and then a year after that I did for my young cousin Esmerelda, more or less on a whim. That’s my score to date. Three. I haven’t killed anybody for years, and don’t intend to ever again. It was just a stage I was going through. 

10. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams (the whole series, trust me)Genre: Comedy, Science Fiction, Cosmic FantasyJust trust me when I say this is a series that literally everyone should read at least once in their life. They are unflabbably hilarious in a way that only Douglas Adams could be, and they are just truly unique. This series is (rightfully) a classic and shouldn’t be missed. 

Seconds before the Earth is demolished to make way for a galactic freeway, Arthur Dent is plucked off the planet by his friend Ford Prefect, a researcher for the revised edition of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy who, for the last fifteen years, has been posing as an out-of-work actor. Together this dynamic pair begin a journey through space aided by quotes from The Hitchhiker’s Guide (“A towel is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have”).

11. World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War - Max Brooks Genre: Zombie horror, Faux HistoryI beg you - do not judge this book by the very terrible movie that was made about it. It is an entirely different animal than that mess of a movie, I promise. World War Z is a masterfully crafted book that details the zombie apocalypse in ways never before done in fiction. The Battle of Yonkers scenes and the testimony of Tomonaga Ijiro still stick in my head to this day. This book is a triumph of horror, ‘history’, and humanity, all balled into a distinctly unique experience. 

The Zombie War came unthinkably close to eradicating humanity. Max Brooks, driven by the urgency of preserving the acid-etched first-hand experiences of the survivors from those apocalyptic years, traveled across the United States of America and throughout the world, from decimated cities that once teemed with upwards of thirty million souls to the most remote and inhospitable areas of the planet. He recorded the testimony of men, women, and sometimes children who came face-to-face with the living, or at least the undead, hell of that dreadful time. World War Z is the result. Never before have we had access to a document that so powerfully conveys the depth of fear and horror, and also the ineradicable spirit of resistance, that gripped human society through the plague years. 

12. The Raw Shark Texts - Steven HallGenre: Fantasy/Realism, Meta-fiction, MysteryThis is a tough one to put into words. I read this many years ago, and I remember it more as a series of emotional experiences rather than just as a singular plot. Which I think really speaks to its character as a book. This is a book that deals with dissociation, memory loss, our sense of self, how easily we can lose that sense, and our struggle to hold onto or to rediscover the world we know and the people we believe ourselves to be. This book is just… an experience, much like House of Leaves. It’s immersive, and at times quite unsettling. 

Eric Sanderson wakes up in a house he doesn’t recognize, unable to remember anything of his life. All he has left are his diary entries recalling Clio, a perfect love who died under mysterious circumstances, and a house that may contain the secrets to Eric’s prior life. But there may be more to this story, or it may be a different story altogether. With the help of allies found on the fringes of society, Eric embarks on an edge-of-your-seat journey to uncover the truth about himself and to escape the predatory forces that threaten to consume him. 

I think 12 should be good for now! I certainly have more though, if you want them!! 

Bonus, Currently Reading: The Library at Mount Char - Scott HawkinsGenre: Contemporary Fantasy, Horror, Dark FantasyI don’t have a whole lot to say about this yet since I’m not very far into it, but so far it’s been extremely intriguing, and Hawkins’ writing is truly beautiful. 

A missing God. A library with the secrets to the universe. A woman too busy to notice her heart slipping away. Carolyn’s not so different from the other people around her. She likes guacamole and cigarettes and steak. She knows how to use a phone. Clothes are a bit tricky, but everyone says nice things about her outfit with the Christmas sweater over the gold bicycle shorts. After all, she was a normal American herself once. That was a long time ago, of course. Before her parents died. Before she and the others were taken in by the man they called Father. 

Bonus 2, Up Next to Read: Dark Matter: A Ghost Story - Michelle PaverGenre: Horror

January 1937. Clouds of war are gathering over a fogbound London. Twenty-eight year old Jack is poor, lonely, and desperate to change his life, so when he’s offered the chance to join an Arctic expedition, he jumps at it. Spirits are high as the ship leaves Norway: five men and eight huskies, crossing the Barents Sea by the light of the midnight sun. At last they reach the remote, uninhabited bay where they will camp for the next year, Gruhuken, but the Arctic summer is brief. As night returns to claim the land, Jack feels a creeping unease. One by one, his companions are forced to leave. He faces a stark choice: stay or go. Soon he will see the last of the sun, as the polar night engulfs the camp in months of darkness. Soon he will reach the point of no return–when the sea will freeze, making escape impossible. Gruhuken is not uninhabited. Jack is not alone. Something walks there in the dark… 

(also if any of y’all have read these, i’d love to hear YOUR thoughts on them too)

[distant-rose]

Seal of Fate Ch. 1 (2/8)

Notes: I actually love this chapter a lot for all of the wrong reasons, mainly because I’m kinda turning this entire selkie thing on its head. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Please note there is a lot of discussion on the icky side of the male selkie myths which I find problematic and have decided to voice here. So, yeah, there’s talk of dubious consent and sexual harassment but nothing overtly triggering in my opinion. A special thank you to @aerica13​ who is my amazing beta and a godsend because I’m shit at editing my own work. Also a thank you to @shireness-says​ and @katie-dub​ for being my cheerleaders. I really appreciate you guys. Also a special thanks to @cssns​ and @drowned-dreamer​ for making my CS Supernatural Summer pretty epic. Kerry did an amazing job making me art for this story. Check it out below! It’s absolutely gorgeous and unfortunately the kiss in this chapter isn’t as romantic but we’ll get there. Summary: Emma Swan is looking for only one thing - answers. Abandoned outside a police station in Menemsha, Martha’s Vineyard, Emma has dedicated her life to finding out where she comes from and why she was given away. She finds an unlikely partner in Killian, a selkie she inadvertently summons in a fit of frustration over her cold case. Word Count: 4,600+ Chapters: Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Epilogue Rating: T+

Emma hated the Vineyard. Though she wasn’t a people person, she preferred the anonymity that came with living in the city and the phenomena of being alone without actually being alone. It was easy to lose yourself in the hustle of the city, to turn your brain off and just walk aimlessly until you found something to distract you from the world for a while. There was no word to describe Menemsha except empty and she could feel that emptiness echoing inside her. While she had found some sort of companionship in Ruby whenever she went to the diner, it never went beyond casual conversation. Emma wasn’t necessarily looking for friendship - she was a loner by nature - but she found she couldn’t lose herself in Menemsha the same way she lost herself in Tallahassee, Boston and Portland. The silence of the village amplified the violence of her thoughts and her mind had become a torturous reel of her darkest moments. She couldn’t sleep with the echoes of the loud piercing shriek of a baby she would never hold, the compassionless voices of police officers reading her Miranda rights and the false platitudes of the countless foster parents who gave her away ringing in her ears. Normally when her demons came to bite her in the ass, Emma would throw herself into work but she found no solace in researching on her own case.

Emma knew when she decided to finally look into her own case that it was going to be a difficult and thankless job. She knew that it was possible that her attempts to unearth the truth of her past might end in disappointment and failure. It was a fact that hung over her head like guillotine. She had been born into an era before computers and in an age where social services was less than careful in their documentation. It was possible that what she was looking for didn’t exist or, even worse, had been destroyed.

Menemsha was a small village and technically a part of the town of Chilmark. Though it had a police station, it did not have a town hall, a library or even a post office. Rather, Memensha had more restaurants that it needed, a fish market, one bed and breakfast, a general store and an art gallery that belonged to the Mills family. The more essential amenities were located in Chilmark which was a twenty-five minute trip by car. Normally such a distance wasn’t such a bother to her but when gas was five dollars per gallon, Emma couldn’t help but be a little resentful of it. Though, the librarian at the Chilmark Free Public Library had been helpful and had campaigned on her behalf to give her access to the archives in the Town Office.

Emma had nearly cried when she saw the state of the archives. She didn’t have high expectations to begin with but it was literally a hundred boxes of old documents that had been shoved carelessly into a musty basement to be forgotten about. On top of the distant lack of organisation, there was obvious water and mold damages to some of the boxes which made her nervous at the state of which actual documents inside were in.

It took her more time than she would have liked to go through all the boxes and pick out all the files marked 1983 but once she was able, she was left with four boxes out of the bunch. She didn’t bother asking for permission when she loaded them up into her car. It wasn’t worth the headache and Emma strongly suspected that they wouldn’t be missed considering the state of the archive.

Nearly a week into her time in Martha’s Vineyard, Emma found what she was looking for.

Or so she thought.

Her heart nearly stopped when she found the thin file that had been marked with the her case number. It was covered in watermarks and already she could feel her optimism fade away as she noted how thin it was. There couldn’t have been more than a few documents in it.

The sight of her Chapter 46 Section 1A certificate was nothing new. The documentation that marked her as an abandoned child had long since been in her possession and she was still fighting with the Massachusetts Department of Children and Families for them to release documents made by her social worker in regard to the circumstances around her initial adoption. Despite the fact they were nearly thirty years old, the Department had a tight hold on them and wasn’t at all sympathetic to her cause.

Aside from her foundling certificate, there was only the police report. It wasn’t a long one but it was written in messy shorthand that seemed to convey the officer’s disinterest just as clearly as his words. Under the description section, they had written: “Just another unwanted souvenir most likely left behind by one of the fishing boats coming in from down south. No point in interviewing them, they’ll just deny it anyway.”

She read the lines over and over until her eyes blurred over, breath shortening and skin feeling too tight over her bones. Suddenly, Ruby’s house which had felt too big before now felt suffocating. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to run.

Without bothering to put on her shoes or her coat, she sprinted out of the house and ran out onto the beach. She stumbled when her feet hit the sand, entirely unfamiliar with the sensation and lack of give. She collapsed along the shore line, pressing a hand to her throat and vomiting into surf.

When she was finished, she stared out at the ocean, trying to calm herself. It was nearly dusk and there was no one around to witness her hysteria, something which Emma was incredibly thankful for. She didn’t need her nosy neighbors to witness her existential crisis.

As her panic attack subdued, Emma closed her eyes and reviewed once more in her mind the callous words on the police report.

An unwanted souvenir.

The term brought tears to her eyes once more. She had to bite her lip to keep back the scream that was burning her throat. She couldn’t remember the name of the man who had written the report, only his words, but she had never felt such an intense hatred for another human being before, not even when Neal had set her up and sent her to prison.

How dare he! How dare he not think she was worth investigating! She wasn’t a souvenir! She was a person! A person who deserved a real investigation and deserved to know the truth! This man, this nameless officer who had become the focal point of Emma’s anger, had robbed her of the truth, of the justice that an abandoned little girl deserved.

More angry tears slipped down her cheek. Emma didn’t bother to wipe them away as she stared out at the setting sun, more heartbroken and more alone than she had never felt in her entire life.

“Hello love.”

Emma jumped, she hadn’t realised she wasn’t alone. However when she saw her uninvited visitor, she let out a loud yelp. A pale man was emerging from the surf, naked as the day he was he was born, and coming towards her with purpose. She stumbled backward into the sand, wincing as her ass landed on a decidedly sharp shell. She grabbed an abandoned beer bottle and tossed it at him. She missed by a mile.

“You’re naked! Why the hell are you naked? Does Menemsha not follow any public decency laws or something!” Her eyes bulged as another thought occurred. “Oh god! Is this a nude beach? Is my house in front of a nude beach? What the fuck!”

The man stared at her in a mixture of startlement and confusion. He tilted his head to the side, regarding her the same way a dog did when it realised its master had tricked it out of a treat.

“In all of my years, I’ve never gotten that reaction before!”

“Dude! For real! You’re naked! Put some goddamn clothes on!”

The man ignored her. Instead, he advanced forward. She took a few steps back but his stride was longer than hers. He touched her arm gently with one hand and framed her cheek with the other, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“Your sadness called to me. I couldn’t ignore it.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Emma asked in a harsh whisper, trying to pull away.

“I can make it go away…if only for a little while…” he murmured before leaning down and shocking the hell out of Emma by capturing her lips in a fierce kiss.

She let out a shriek of surprise before pushing him away with all of her strength. As soon as she broke free, she struck him against the face with a closed fist and then raised her knee to strike him in the groin. He let out a groan of pain before crumbling to the sand and swearing violently at her.

“Bloody fucking hell! What was that for? You nearly destroyed my nadgers there, love!”

“Because you’re a fucking pervert!” She hissed hotly at him.

“Not a pervert! I’m a selkie!”

“What the fuck is a selkie!?”

“Do you not know your legends, woman? Have you never heard of the seal folk?”

“Am I being punk’d?” Emma looked around, trying to find any hidden camera men but there was no one around. She looked down at the man still keeled over in pain with narrowed eyes. “What the fuck is going on!?”

“You dropped seven tears in the ocean…”

“And what does that have to do with the price of tea in China?” She asked, placing her hands on her hips.

The man let out a pain chuckled, still holding his tender parts as he looked up her with a look that was caught between amused and disbelieving. “You honestly know nothing, do you?”

“I know how to work a taser and frankly, I think that’s all I need to know at the moment.”

“I don’t know what that is but it sounds menacing.”

“You bet your ass it is. Start talking. Now.”

The man licked his lips for a moment, eying her warily. “You really are a fearsome lass.”

“And you’re stalling.”

“You dropped tears into the ocean, love, and not just any tears. Tears of genuine distress and loneliness. Selkies are attracted to loneliness. It’s a siren’s call to us. We thrive on turning loneliness into pleasure.”

“Right,” she replied with a snort. “Pull the other one.”

“It’s the truth,” he replied seriously, looking her straight in the eye.

Emma studied him closely. Though he was complete pervert with zero sense of personal space, he didn’t seem to be lying. If he had, her superpower would have picked up on it.

“You know I’m not lying,” he whispered.

“I know one thing and that’s that you believe all of this. That doesn’t mean it’s true. What it means is that you’re certifiable and there’s probably a mental institution nearby.”

“I’m not from a mental institution,” he frowned.

“Maybe not,” she said before she finally noticed the wet pile of black fur next to him. Her eyes widened as she realised it looked exactly like one of the seat pelts hanging on Mr. Gold’s property. “Maybe the local jail? Considering you’re a thief and all.”

She reached out to pick up the pelt but the man let out an inhuman snarl and snatched her hand than she could blink. When she looked up at his face, his eyes looked more black than blue.

“I would prefer if you didn’t touch that,” he said in an eerily calm voice. “I find myself in less than ideal circumstances when a woman touches my pelt.”

“You’re not human,” she whispered, fear rising up her throat.

“No,” he agreed as he released her hand. “I’m not.”

That’s when Emma’s self-preservation kicked in. As soon as she registered his words, she ran back to the safety of the beach house. She proceeded to lock the door and all of the windows, parking herself on the ancient loveseat located in front entrance. She toyed with her cell phone, passing between her hands as she kept her eyes trained on the door.

If she were anywhere else in the world, she would have called the police. However, Menemsha only had three cops whom Emma had met and found incredibly lacking. She had more faith in a mall rent-a-cop than she did in the men who were supposedly Menemsha’s main law enforcement. She could always call the Chilmark police but she had a sneaking suspicion that they were just as helpful.

On top of that, what was she going to say? She highly doubt that they would believe the naked man on the beach wasn’t human. They would probably just brush it off as the ramblings of a woman who had blown the issue of a nude bather out of proportion.

Instead, Emma went to sleep with her bedroom door locked and her gun underneath her pillow.

When she awoke the next morning, she found neither the windows or locks on the doors had been disturbed. Satisfied, she made her morning hot chocolate and nibbled at a strawberry poptart before deciding to finally retrieve the Vineyard Gazette , which had arrived faithfully at her door everyday despite never applying for a subscription.

She almost screamed when she saw the man from yesterday sitting casually on her front porch, stilled naked save for the pelt that was draped over his lap, and reading her newspaper.

“Staying attuned to happy accidents is a part of art, don’t you agree?” He said, not looking up from the newspaper. “Or at least that’s what the local potter is saying about the newest design on her trade. She calls it ‘the Wave,’ because it’s a deep blue glaze with a white line through. How original. Though, as someone who is more intimately acquainted with the ocean, I can tell you right now that water isn’t truly blue.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Why?”

“Because I answered your call.”

“I didn’t call you,” she replied in annoyance, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Ah, but you did when -”

“My tears went into the ocean. So you said,” she cut him off. “I didn’t mean to call you. I didn’t want anyone in that moment, let alone a naked weirdo.”

“I’ve gathered that,” he muttered, finally looking up from the paper. “I feel I must apologise for yesterday. Normally, I’m better at sorting out which type of company women want. I should have known you’re a lady-loving lass.”

“Wait. What?” Emma stared at him in confusion.

“Yesterday. You were not receptive when I kissed you. I’ve never seen that happen before but there’s a first time for everything.”

“Me not wanting you to kiss me has nothing to do with my sexuality!” She hissed, clenching her fists. “That was me not wanting to be sexually harassed!”

“Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Normally the women I come across are quite happy to be kissed by me.”

“You must come across some strange women then because most I know don’t like being randomly kissed by a stranger no matter how attractive they are!”

He perked up at this and a sly grin crossed his face. “You think I’m attractive?”

“You entirely missed the point of what I was saying and I’m seriously not afraid to tase you.”

“You keep using that phrase...tase...what exactly does it entail?”

“It entails me shocking you with 50,000 volts of electricity, mate ,” she replied, mocking his accent on the last word.

“That doesn’t sound particularly pleasant.”

“That’s because it isn’t.”

“I going to reaffirm my previous statement and say you’re quite a fearsome lass.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she responded, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look, I need you to leave, dude, because as wonderful as this conversation is, I would really rather my neighbors not see you and ask uncomfortable questions.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, newspaper crumpling under his tight grip. “Oh, lass, you really think if I was able to go back to the ocean, I would be on your porch right now? If I was capable of that, I would have left last night after you ran away.”

“What?”

“I cannot return to the ocean until you feel some form of happiness,” he said seriously.

“You gotta be kidding me! No way!”

“I’m afraid I’m quite serious. That’s how it’s done. That’s how it’s always been.”

“That’s some Grade-A bullshit!” She protested.

“It’s never been a problem in the past,” he said with a huff.

“Well, it is now. Look, how about this? You leaving? It would bring me tremendous happiness.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he replied, looking mildly offended.

Emma sighed and rubbed at her temples before looking at her watch. It was nearly seven in the morning and the few people who actually lived in the neighbourhood would be up and about soon. She really needed to get him out of sight.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” she said with a shake of her head before opening her door. “But get your ass in here.”

“How hospitable of you,” he remarked sarcastically before tidying up. He grabbed his pelt and slung it against his hips the same way any man would with bath towel, except the pelt was much larger and pooled around his feet.

“Just get inside.”

He obeyed her, following her into the house. She didn’t miss how his curious eyes seemed to drink in the style and makeup of the interior. When he met her gaze, he raised both eyebrows at her in question.

“This is….quite cheery, love.”

“It’s not mine,” she replied shortly. “Listen, have a sit in the kitchen and don’t touch anything. I’m going to into the basement and see if I can find you anything to wear.”

It was a long shot but Emma was hoping that there was at least something he could wear. She didn’t know how much longer she could handle talking to him while he was just in his birthday suit. It was making her uncomfortable and his complete nonchalant attitude towards it wasn’t helping.

She couldn’t help but feel like she was retreating again as she descended down into the half-finished basement of the beach house. The cement floor was uncomfortable underneath her feet but she braved through to peruse through the plastic bins next to the washing machine. It was a little invasive to be going through Ruby’s things like this but Emma reasoned that if she left them behind then she wouldn’t mind too much.

There wasn’t much in the top bins except blankets and table clothes but the bottom one held some promise in the form of old sweats. Much of it looked too small to fit her uninvited guest but she found a tent-sized cat sweater and a large pair of hot pink sweatpants. They looked as if they belonged to a robust-sized grandmother and smelled like mothballs but Emma figured beggars couldn’t be choosers.

When she returned to the kitchen with the clothes, she found the man hunched over her kitchen table and looking over the files she had left there from last night’s research. Her face coloured in annoyance.

“I said not to touch anything.”

“I’m not touching, I’m reading,” he replied airily.

“Same concept. It’s rude to read someone else’s stuff.”

“Sorry, love. Though, if it’s all the same to you, you shouldn’t be leaving things like this out for anyone to read.”

“I wasn’t expecting company,” she snapped, shoving the clothes in his lap. “Look, put these on, okay?”

He raised them up, inspecting them with a look of disgust. She couldn’t help but feel so much satisfaction at his obvious irritation.

“These are ghastly,” he stated, wrinkling his nose.

“They’re temporary. Quit whining and put them on.”

He made a frustrated noise before standing up and unceremoniously dropping the pelt around his waist right in front of her. Emma’s jaw dropped.

“Dude! Seriously!”

He gave her an amused look, lips tugging up into a smirk that made her want to smack him. “I’ve always found it amusing how human beings get so hung up over nudity. Nakedness is natural, clothes are not.”

“Spoken like a true nudist.”

He didn’t reply, merely pulled the cat sweater over his head and down over his torso. Emma knew that it had been large but it practically dwarfed him with the sleeves limply hanging over his hands and the stretched out collar went nearly half way down his torso. She held back a snicker.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked after he had pulled on the sweatpants.

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to anyway.”

“Who was he?”

Her eyebrows furrowed at the question. “Who?”

“The man who broke your heart and abandoned you…”

In her mind’s eye, there was a flash of crinkling brown eyes, dark hair and the sound of rich deep laughter. She turned away from the stranger at her kitchen table under the guise of turning on the kettle.

“Who said it was a man…”

“So, it was a woman then.”

Emma opened the cabinet, pulling out two mugs and placing them down on the counter a little harder than necessary. She emptied Swiss Miss packets into them instead of giving a response to his comment. After filling the mugs with water and half-heartedly mixing them, she returned to the kitchen table and shoved a mug in his direction. He caught her wrist, the sudden stop causing the hot chocolate to slosh over the rim and splash across his front. He didn’t pay it much mind, but rather kept his unnervingly intense focus on her face.

“You’re an orphan.”

“Was I?”

“Not was. Are. You’re something of an open book. You’ve got a look in your eye.  The look you get when you’ve been left alone for too long.” He released her hand and tapped his fingers against the police report. “And this. This is you, isn’t it?”

“I’m a private investigator,” she responded.

“It doesn’t make this any less about you,” he said softly, still studying her face with such severity that she had to drop her gaze.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for something normal to happen.”

“What’s normal about this?”

“Normal would be you kissing me, love.”

“You’re going to be waiting for a long time then.” She snorted, placing his hot chocolate in front of him and putting some distance between them by sitting in the adjacent seat. She clenched her mug with both hands like it was a lifeline.

“Human women, especially women attracted to men, normally aren’t so resistant to selkie charm. You’re unique.”

“Or maybe you’re not as charming as you think are,” Emma shot back.

“I don’t think you quite understand…” he said with shake of his head, drumming his fingers against the table in agitation. “We aren’t like your human blokes. We, as a species, have a...it’s sort of a hypnotic charm, if you will...to make women more receptive to us...it sort of a preservation technique…”

“Sounds more date rape-y to me,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

He jolted at the accusation. “We never take what isn’t freely given.”

“You say that but you’re basically “dazzling” them into sleeping with you. How is that not sketchy?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking distraught by the very thought. Emma watched him warily, wondering if leaving her gun upstairs was a bad idea. He let out a huff, pushing his mug away.

“I..I see your point...but rest assured that was never my intention...you’re immune to the “dazzling” as you say, so you need not worry about that and you need not worry about me placing an unwanted hand on you.”

“Oh, I’m not worry,” she responded with a snort. “If you did, I would tase your ass so fast that I would be serving fried seal at my next barbecue.”

“You’re quite fond of that threat.”

“It’s very entertaining to see a scumbag get shocked with 50,000 volts.”

“I will take your word for it.”

Silence fell between them and they sat, drinking hot chocolate and studying each other. Since the moment she met him, Emma had avoided looking at him. However, now that she had the chance to, she could slightly see why the women he spoke of weren’t so quick to kick him out of bed. Even while wearing stained grandma sweater and hot pink pants, he was attractive; messy dark hair falling over startling blue eyes, feminine lashes and a strong but sharp jawline. He looked lost though, a fish out of water in this situation just like her.

“What would make you happy, love?”

“Emma.”

“Pardon?”

“My name is not love, it’s Emma,” she said, looking back down at her mug. “I would prefer you to call me by name rather than love or sweetheart or any annoying pet name you could come up with.”

“Alright, Emma,” he affirmed with a nod. “I’m Killian.”

“Killian,” she repeated, testing it out. “It’s...unique.”

“It’s a name,” he shrugged. “But, really, Emma, what would make you happy? Because it’s obviously not sex. You’ve made that quite clear.”

She snorted at his bluntness. “I know you’re a seal but I’ve gotta tell you, sex rarely ends in happiness as far as I’m concerned. It leads to disaster.”

“I’m sorry you think so.”

“I don’t think so. I know so. It can be great, don’t get me wrong, but once that high is gone, you’re back to square one. It doesn’t solve anything. If anything, you find out he’s married and his wife’s on her way back early and it’s just messy.”

“We’re getting off topic,” he said, looking uncomfortable and fidgeting slightly. “What would make Emma happy?”

She pulled the police report out from underneath his elbow, staring at the callous words scribbled messily across the page.

“The truth,” she said, meeting his eyes. “The truth would make me happy.”

“What truth do you seek?”

“I want to know who they are and why they left me. I want to look them in the eye and make them remember me, to remind them that I was a person, not something that could just be left behind.”

“Okay. How do we do that?”

“We?” she looked at him in surprise. “When did this become a we?”

“When you called me, Emma. Haven’t you been paying attention? I can’t go back until you’re happy and if that means finding your parents then it means finding your parents.”

“And how the hell is a fricking seal going to help me?”

He smiled at her and it was a smile that was so blinding that she wondered for a moment if he had succeeded in finally dazzling her.

“Oh, love, I think you’ll find that I have an honest knack for reading and research.”

[appreciatedinretrospect]

Album Commentary #1: Camp Cope- How to Socialize and Make Friends

Stream The Album Here 

I’ve been obsessed with melody since childhood. I’ve become a junky for it. When I find something that resonates with me I listen to it over and over again to get that same rush, at times excessively. As a song writer I’ve been trying to convey emotion sonically in a way that affects others the same way I can be. That’s always been a journey and then I found out about Camp Cope.

Georgia McDonald is my favorite singer right now. Her voice is haunting. It only communicates truth. She emotes every syllable of every line. I know she believes what she’s saying whole heartedly. The songs these three women write are the songs I’ve always wanted to write myself. These were the melodies I’ve always wanted to hear. The band Hop Along holds an even more significant place in my heart now knowing that they were such a pivotal inspiration for Camp Cope’s beginnings.

I’m a big fan of just about everything Run For Cover Records does. Their artists seem to produce classic albums. Camp Cope did nothing short of that with both of their latest releases through Run For Cover. I highly recommend checking out their AudioTree performance and their split EP with Cayetana as well. They all serve as one continuous exploration of everything that’s ever torn you apart with perfect chords.

I appreciate when bands  can pull off bringing the listener into the room with a live performance sound. Harvey Danger did a great job with that. There’s no smoke and mirrors with the production or the song compositions themselves. I think that has a lot to do with how and why Camp Cope are making such a genuine connection to their listeners and building their name right now.

The opening song on How to Socialize & Make Friends fittingly titled “The Opener” scorches through the hypocrisy in music and the condescension that often comes with the territory of being a lady rocker. It breaks the ice and lets the listener know that the next thirty eight minutes is going to be raw. What follows are intimate peaks into vivid moments in time. You’re placed in a first person perspective living vicariously through the autobiographical and intensely emotional narrative of our protagonist Maq. Have you ever loved someone so much you felt like it was killing you? Have you ever wanted to be yourself despite it disappointing someone? Have you ever had trouble getting out of bed?

Various moments  brought me to tears like The Face Of God; a brutally honest look into the reality of why the #MeToo movement exists.

And I saw it, the face of god

And he turned himself away from me

And said I did something wrong

That somehow what happened to me was my fault

You can see it in apologists and hear it in the songs

I’ve Got You is a beautifully crafted song where we learn the most about Maq. We learn why their self titled album featured a little girl with bandages containing a gash. Learning not to run with glass can symbolize most of the lessons learned from the trials of becoming an adult. Even if that lessons comes at the tender age of two. Most of the answers do come from childhood somehow. It’s also a beautiful ode to her father late musician Hugh McDonald of Redgum. Maq’s poignant view into the weight being put on the shoulder of us seeing and living gun violence, inequality and police brutality on a daily basis as well.

There's still some things I don't understand

Like the casual blindness toward the cruelty of man

And a cop shot the wrong guy again

And they tore down a childhood home again

Oh, nobody seemed to blink an eye

When they wanted you to pay to see the sky alive

You can’t approach this album from a place of insecurity or discomfort looking inward. This music is indicative to the direction a good part of society is going in, especially in young adults and the youth. Inviting and inclusive but anybody being dishonest with themselves or holding onto to something that doesn’t serve them to might not receive the message the way they should.

I suppose that’s why some men and women seem to find it controversial in some kind of way. The album’s purpose is to give an unadulterated view into life’s pain and beauty. Most of which is universal. But when the feminine pronouns are involved instead of straight males for some reason that gets under some people’s skin. Personally, I like that. It gives the music even more of a purpose. That is somewhat of a selfish plus for me as a punk and a fan of their band. I’m glad they’re being discussed for these topics because it expands the dialogue. But I know that’s not the only agenda. The goal is speak your truth whatever it may be. Acknowledgment that there’s a problem is the first step to fixing the problem. Nobody should be punished for speaking about something happening to them. Historically men have put women through emotional and physical pain across the planet. Bringing that up seems to bother people like when their guns are in jeopardy or you ask them to think from the perspective of someone who’s been oppressed, marginalized or even killed. They won’t, it’s too much work. Ultimately I think translating pain and truth with art is the should be celebrated rather than dismissed or met with such ignorant opposition.

Feminism is the notion that women are in fact people with opinions and rights that aren’t less than a man’s and vice versa. So with that view point, really immerse yourself into the lyrics as if they were your own words.

Hands down I know this album will be in my top ten this year and will continue l be on rotation for the years to come. I appreciate Maq, Kelly-Dawn and Sarah for spreading the gospel of keeping it real.

As always, I recommend buying Vinyl. It’s the best way to experience music and it helps support the artist. The LP runs for $17.99 on the Run For Cover website and there’s always supporting your local record store.

Released March 2, 2018

Label: Run For Cover Records.

Catch them on tour with the incredible Petal this spring.

[jet39moores]

4 Secrets of Success From a High School Senior Who Got Into 5 Ivy League Schools

Choosing the right college is one of the biggest decisions you will have to make, and many hardworking students dream of getting into competitive, Ivy League schools.

There are several steps to getting into a prestigious college, and personal essays are a critical part of the application process. Figuring out a way to stand out from the crowd of thousands of applicants every year can be daunting, but one Concord High School senior did just that.

With an out-of-the-box approach to the essay portion of her college applications, Brittany Stinson was able to achieve the rare feat of getting into six of the top colleges in the country.

So, which schools was she able to get into with her powerhouse application?

The five Ivy League schools that sent her acceptance letters included:

Yale

Columbia

The University of Pennsylvania

Dartmouth

Cornell

To top off her incredible accomplishment, Brittany was also accepted into Stanford University. While not an Ivy League school, Stanford has the lowest rate of admission for any school on the list at a 4.69% acceptance rate.

While Brittany’s accomplishments may not be the typical experience, her unique approach to her admissions essay is something that every high school student should take into consideration. With a little creativity and determination, you too can stand out from the crowd and make your voice heard in the sea of competitive college applications.

What Can You Learn From Brittany Stinson’s Powerful Essay?

The following statement was the essay prompt that resulted in Brittany’s outstanding essay: “Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.”

Most students reading this prompt would generally fall back on a retelling of a dramatic or emotional event that changed an aspect of their lives. While this type of response can have a deep impact on admissions officers if told correctly, Brittany had a different approach. Below is the verbatim response that she gave for the aforementioned prompt:

Managing to break free from my mother’s grasp, I charged. With arms flailing and chubby legs fluttering beneath me, I was the ferocious two­ year old rampaging through Costco on a Saturday morning. My mother’s eyes widened in horror as I jettisoned my churro; the cinnamon­-sugar rocket gracefully sliced its way through the air while I continued my spree. I sprinted through the aisles, looking up in awe at the massive bulk products that towered over me. Overcome with wonder, I wanted to touch and taste, to stick my head into industrial­-sized freezers, to explore every crevice. I was a conquistador, but rather than searching the land for El Dorado, I scoured aisles for free samples. Before inevitably being whisked away into a shopping cart, I scaled a mountain of plush toys and surveyed the expanse that lay before me: the kingdom of Costco.

Notorious for its oversized portions and dollar- ­fifty hot dog combo, Costco is the apex of consumerism. From the days spent being toted around in a shopping cart to when I was finally tall enough to reach lofty sample trays, Costco has endured a steady presence throughout my life. As a veteran Costco shopper, I navigate the aisles of foodstuffs, thrusting the majority of my weight upon a generously filled shopping cart whose enormity juxtaposes my small frame. Over time, I’ve developed a habit of observing fellow patrons tote their carts piled with frozen burritos, cheese puffs, tubs of ice cream, and weight­loss supplements. Perusing the aisles gave me time to ponder. Who needs three pounds of sour cream? Was cultured yogurt any more well-­mannered than its uncultured counterpart? Costco gave birth to my unfettered curiosity.

While enjoying an obligatory hot dog, I did not find myself thinking about the ‘all beef’ goodness that Costco boasted. I instead considered finitudes and infinitudes, unimagined uses for tubs of sour cream, the projectile motion of said tub when launched from an eighty foot shelf or maybe when pushed from a speedy cart by a scrawny seventeen year old. I contemplated the philosophical: If there exists a thirty­-three ounce jar of Nutella, do we really have free will? I experienced a harsh physics lesson while observing a shopper who had no evident familiarity of inertia’s workings. With a cart filled to overflowing, she made her way towards the sloped exit, continuing to push and push while steadily losing control until the cart escaped her and went crashing into a concrete column, 52” plasma screen TV and all. Purchasing the yuletide hickory smoked ham inevitably led to a conversation between my father and me about Andrew Jackson’s controversiality. There was no questioning Old Hickory’s dedication; he was steadfast in his beliefs and pursuits – qualities I am compelled to admire, yet his morals were crooked. We both found the ham to be more likeable–and tender.

I adopted my exploratory skills, fine tuned by Costco, towards my intellectual endeavors. Just as I sampled buffalo­-chicken dip or chocolate truffles, I probed the realms of history, dance and biology, all in pursuit of the ideal cart–one overflowing with theoretical situations and notions both silly and serious. I sampled calculus, cross-­country running, scientific research, all of which are now household favorites. With cart in hand, I do what scares me; I absorb the warehouse that is the world. Whether it be through attempting aerial yoga, learning how to chart black-body radiation using astronomical software, or dancing in front of hundreds of people, I am compelled to try any activity that interests me in the slightest.

My intense desire to know, to explore beyond the bounds of rational thought; this is what defines me. Costco fuels my insatiability and cultivates curiosity within me at a cellular level. Encoded to immerse myself in the unknown, I find it difficult to complacently accept the “what”; I want to hunt for the “whys” and dissect the “hows”. In essence, I subsist on discovery.

If that took a turn you weren’t expecting and grabbed your attention, you’re not the only one! Her innovative approach to describing her character strengths stood out enough to beat out thousands of other students applying to these prestigious schools.

So, how was she able to accomplish such an impressive feat? What can you take from her unique approach to craft your own home-run college essay?

Let’s go over four secrets to success that any high school student can use to follow Brittany’s refreshing example.

Secrets for Getting Your College Essay Noticed

1. Make a Plan Before you Begin

One of the first steps you need to take when writing an application essay is to understand the technical requirements of the prompt, such as maximum word count. From there, you need to get a clear idea of exactly what you want to say to your potential school.

During an interview following her success, Brittany described her process for planning out her essay by stating, “I really tried to think of my defining qualities, and narrowed it down to one or two qualities I wanted to convey to admissions officers.”

After determining the goal of your essay, the next step is to find your voice and decide how you want to convey that message. Will you take a humorous approach like Brittany? Can you draw a deep connection between your message and the future you see for yourself at your potential school? However you decide to approach it, the most important thing is to be sure that your voice is truly you.

2. Think Outside the Box

After reading through Brittany’s essay, what stands out the most is the way she used humor to draw in her audience and make her point. Thinking outside the box in this way is necessary to make an impact on admissions officers who read thousands of these essays every year. The key is finding the right tools to use in your essay to enhance what you are trying to say, not detract from it.

Remember that these colleges are looking for students that exemplify strong character traits that complement the values and mission of the school. While Brittany’s essay used a playful touch to make her point, it still came back to a focus on her curiosity, self-awareness, and critical thinking ability – all traits that are highly desirable in the student body of a prestigious school.

3. Don’t be Afraid to Show Your Personality

When asked how she chose the specific topic for her essay, Brittany stated, “Before I even started writing an essay, I read a quote from an admissions officer that said if your essay is on the ground and there is no name on it and one of your friends picks it up, they should know that you wrote it.”

Injecting your authentic self into your application is necessary to catch the eye of an admissions officer, but it has to be done in a way that is true to your personality. If you are not naturally a comedic, playful person, it will come off as inauthentic if you attempt to write an essay similar to Brittany’s. For the strongest application, you must embrace the uniqueness of your personality and then relate that back to your experience.

4. Back-Up Your Story with Experience

The essay is only one part of your application, although there’s no question that it has the potential to make a significant impact on your acceptance to the school. However, talking up your strong character traits isn’t enough on its own – you also have to prove that you walk your talk!

A strong GPA, high test scores, community involvement, and leadership experience all are looked at during the college application process. While Brittany’s essay is credited for her success in getting into so many top-level schools, she also had an impressive high school resume to back that up.

How to Get Into Your College of Choice

Getting into your school of choice is a journey that begins well before your senior year of high school.

As Brittany Stinson’s success shows, with a dedicated, long-term approach to your ultimate educational goals, anything is possible. There are several lessons that we can take away from Brittany’s innovative approach to the college essay process, but it all comes down to embracing the unique aspects of who you are and what you can share with the world.

Throughout the course of her high school years, Brittany scored extremely high on standardized testing, took several AP classes, was involved in her community, and participated in competitive STEM programs. Combined with her unique application essay, she had a very well-rounded application that was sure to leave a solid first impression.

If your goal is to attend an Ivy League or top-ranked college, small steps towards your goal can quickly add up. Be involved in your school, focus on your strengths, and take note of the secrets discussed above that helped Brittany break down the barriers and reach her well-earned success.

The post 4 Secrets of Success From a High School Senior Who Got Into 5 Ivy League Schools appeared first on My College Guide.

from My College Guide http://mycollegeguide.org/blog/2017/02/get-into-5-ivy-league-schools/