#brandon wants so badly to be adored. to be loved. to be wanted and found important: to be valued.

[alicenttully]

First Kiss

I.

The Third Month of The Year 298

“You look lovely, Rhaenys.” Aegon smiles at her as Rhaenys enters the Hall of Lamps, accompanied by her three bridesmaids and their escort of guards.

“Only lovely?” Rhaenys wrinkles her nose. “You disappoint me terribly, Aegon. You should not describe a bride as anything less than exquisite. At least, that is what my bridesmaids tell me.”

Arianne winks at her while Sansa and Daenerys giggle. In the Faith, it is often the custom for a bride such as Rhaenys to choose three bridesmaids to honour three of the seven gods- the Maiden who bring bless the marriage with lasting love, the Mother with children, and the Crone with wisdom to survive the years together. Rhaenys had agonized over who to pick among her ladies, not wanting to cause hurt, but thankfully her mother had guided her into selecting Arianne, Daenerys, and Sansa. No one can fault her for choosing family, or soon to be family in Sansa’s case, Elia reasoned.

“Your sister is playing with you, Your Grace.” Arianne drawled. He does. Aegon laughs and offers Rhaenys his arms, before lowering his voice. “You look beautiful as always, Nee-Nee. I suppose I’m just used to it.” Rhaenys smiles sadly at this resurrection of his babyhood nickname for her.

Rhaenys does feel beautiful, however. Of course, although she is not vain enough to deem herself the Maiden’s rival, she also does not find any value in lying to herself when she sees her reflection.

But this is different. The dressmakers have done well, truly. Rhaenys’ gown is a glory, a creation of red silk with long flowing sleeves that felt inviting as sin when she was helped into it earlier. Her bodice glimmers with golden thread. Resting on her black curls is a golden diadem with red rubies and an inscription in Rhoynese at the bottom.

On her wedding cloak, is a dragon whose open mouth reveals no crackling flames but instead a large golden sun that overwhelms the creature in size. The other dress that Rhaenys will change into for today is also just as beautiful, with Sansa gasping in delight upon seeing it. Although it is not demanded, it is not unusual for a bride to wear a gown favouring her new husband’s colours at their reception as if their vows were not enough to demonstrate that she was now his. But Rhaenys has no wish to offend her river lord or make him feel uncertain, so her gown is silver satin and sleeves consisting of myrish lace. Adorning the outfit is a belt made of deep red velvet with blue sapphires.

Aegon signals that they are ready, and from inside the sept proper music begins to play. Arianne lifts up Rhaenys’ cloak from the ground, while Sansa and Daenerys pick up the hems of the gown; the former looking painfully excited while Dany almost looks as nervous as Rhaenys feels.

Arianne nods at her and proudly smiles at Rhaenys in the way that Aegon did, and Rhaenys wills herself to breathe.

As a princess born, her entire life was the realm’s, shaped and nurtured with it in mind. It was the offering demanded for her birth and rank being predetermined by the Seven. It was a truth familiar to Rhaenys as a favoured story might be for a child who delights still in its thousand telling.

However, unlike that small child, Rhaenys could never be allowed to want other stories. Rhaenys is not friendless in this either, she remembers.

Her life belonged to the seven kingdoms, and so it appeared, did her first kiss.

Their kiss does not make Rhaenys forget to stand, or forget the crowd that had gathered in the royal sept to witness Lord Edmure Tully take her for his lady wife.

The number of guests is not as many as the wedding of Aegon to Lady- Queen Cassandra Baratheon, but Rhaenys’ wedding is still the first of a blood princess since that of her paternal grandmother forty years ago. Their noses bump, and his beard tickles Rhaenys chin. Nobody dares laugh to break the spell of the solemnity of the occasion, but Edmure reddens all the same.

When they turn to face the cheering crowd, Rhaenys cannot squeeze his hand- there will be a hundred times during the wedding there will be time for contact, but she gives him a bright smile, to put him at ease. “My lord, I must confess. You’ve rather exceeded the expectations of a maiden’s first kiss.”

Edmure’s eyes widen, then his generous mouth curves into a boyish grin. There is a kindness in it, and Rhaenys’ heart twists suddenly. Did her father smile at her mother on their wedding day? Despite the betrayals that he rained down on her, did he at least do that?

There is no way of knowing. Rhaenys cannot ask her father this, or a thousand other questions since she was old enough to understand how the crown prince almost brought them all to ruin. She does not want to dig up the past for her mother, who now basked in the warm present; with her adoring husband. Elia Martell paid Rhaegar Targaryen little attention in death, just as he paid her little respect and dignity in life.

II.

The Third Month of The Year

Two weeks pass before they enjoy their first misunderstanding.

“Have I done something to upset you?” Edmure asks her, in Rhaenys’ bedchamber.  They have been given adjoining rooms here in the castle.  They will not leave the Red Keep until the end of the month.  Rhaenys is glad of it.  She is not afraid to leave, but she is not necessarily anxious to either.

Rhaenys shakes her head, her sketchbook lying forgotten in her lap.  “Of course not, my lord.”

Edmure frowns.  “In public, whenever I try to kiss you, or take your hand- it’s almost as if I am some stranger and not your husband.  You look uncomfortable.”

Rhaenys feels a flush of shame. She’d not meant to sail down this river.  However, she smiles at him.  “Give me your trust in this, Edmure.”  Edmure’s eyes widen.  Until now Rhaenys has called him Lord Edmure or my lord, while he has alternated between Princess Rhaenys or my lady, or my princess, for Rhaenys will be a princess long after she is Lady of Riverrun.  “If you were a stranger kissing the king’s sister, you would know it.”

“That still does not answer my question.”  It is almost an accusation.

That still does not answer my question.”

Rhaenys sighs.  She must be truthful with him. “It is not because of you, I promise.  It is because of me, and well- Lord Tywin.”

“Lord Tywin?” Edmure echoes her, like the sound of the ocean in one of the seashells that could be found along the beach of Dragonstone.  Then he looks a little ill.  “You mean to tell me that you love Tywin Lannister?” Edmure splutters.

Rhaenys cannot help but laugh; the notion is so ridiculous.   Love is wasted on a man like that.

“No, my lord.”  Rhaenys says gently. “It is because I cannot forget who I am, and who Tywin is.  Or Mace Tyrell. You know the line of succession to the Crown, I trust.  I am my brother’s heir, after any children he might have.  My sons will inherit first over any sons that Viserys might give his Cersei.  May the Seven permit that we have a future where Aegon lives long and has many children.  I want that for him.  But you and I are not foolish to think that Tywin is equally satisfied.

So, I have always been- careful. Careful with my behaviour, with how I am perceived.  I told you that you were my first kiss. I- I had no wish to give Tywin palace gossip that he could use to his advantage.”

Edmure crinkles his forehead.  “Surely nobody would think badly of a child for having kissing games.  Cat and Lysa-,”

Rhaenys now tosses her sketchbook aside. “Forgive me my lord, but your sisters’ experience cannot be compared to mine.  Their mother is not Dornish.”

Edmure looks lost.  “What has that got to do with this?”

“Everything.”  Rhaenys hisses, standing up now.

“People will take innocent kisses and think it proof of a Dornish woman’s wanton ways, as if there isn’t plenty in the Reach or Westerlands who were no maidens when they were married! Or men who have a dozen mistresses!  I know the rumours of Ashara Dayne, my mother’s lost friend.  Everyone assumes that Ashara slept with Brandon Stark, but she never did! She was younger than me when she died, and yet people simply assume that she gave him anything more than a smile.  And Dany-,” Rhaenys wipes away her tears.  “We were only children at the time. I don’t think Dany was any older than five.       We were calling each other stupid things as children do, and my mother had entered the room when Dany called me a Dornish slut.  To this day, I still don’t know where the hell she got that from.   And the look on my mother’s face-,” Rhaenys stares at the floor.  “My darling grandfather called her that, a few times.”

“So, because of this, I have always been careful. My mother has taught me so.  Since I was a maiden flowered, being alone is not something I am used to.  There has always been either my family or my ladies or my guards.  I will not let myself be vulnerable to any rumours that would paint me unsuitable to be a queen; rumours that the lion and rose will try to use for their own ends.”   Rhaenys is surprised by the vehemence in her voice.

She takes a deep breath, before continuing. “Secondly, it is just my nature. I appreciate that you are my husband, but I have never been comfortable with physical affection in public, specifically hugs and kisses.  I endure it for proprietary’s sake.  If truth be told, I am not entirely fond of being embraced.”

Edmure’s forehead creases.  “Even your own kin?”

“No, that’s different.”  Rhaenys corrects him.  “My family is close to me.  My ladies are close to me, so I obviously did not mind when we slept in the same bed, our legs tangled together like branches or held their hands as we danced or played games.   And you and I will become close too, I hope.”  She adds, shyly.

Edmure nods.  “Thank you Rhaenys, for telling me this. I will keep that in mind.”  Rhaenys’ smiles at the use of her name.

He grins.  “Speaking of kisses has made me want to kiss you still, however.   So – may I kiss you?” He asks tentatively. His voice makes Rhaenys remember their wedding night, and how he asked her the same thing in the dark.  Their first coupling was well- it was nice, she supposes.  She does not have anything to score it by.  Still afterwards, she had slipped a hand between her legs, for there was nothing in scripture that forbade such things.  

But a kiss is different.  She nods, and Edmure gingerly brushes a curl from her face. “I hope we have a girl with hair like yours.”

His kiss is long and sweet; as sweet as the smell of rain after a month’s drought.

III.

The Sixth Month of The Year 298

“Rhaenys?”

Edmure’s worried face is illuminated in the candlelight, as he sits down on the bed beside her.  Rhaenys is clutching her knees, her eyes downcast.

They have not yet reached Riverrun, thanks to the river lords who insisted on guesting them for a few days.   Stars have risen in the sky for the third time here at Stone Hedge.   No doubt the Brackens insisted on the third night to beat the Blackwood’s two.  “By the time you do reach Riverrun, you’ll need a new wardrobe.”  Desmera Redwyne had predicted, giggling.

There had been no giggling when Desmera had gone to fetch Edmure after Rhaenys had bolted up in bed, tears streaming down her face.

“Desmera need not have woken you.”  Rhaenys mumbled.

“I’m not sorry she did.”  Edmure counters.   “My lady, you are trembling.”

Rhaenys fiddled with the end of her braid.  “It was a bad dream, that’s all.”

For a heartbeat, silence rested between them.  Then, Edmure spoke.  “When I was a boy, my sister Catelyn once told me that you always feel better after talking about a bad dream.”

Well, what has she got to lose then?  He will not leave her.  “It’s a dream I’ve had before.”  She confesses softly.  “I’ve had it on and off since I was twelve or thirteen.  In it, I’m trying to get away.  But I can never far enough.  They-They never change how they kill me.  With a knife.”

Edmure sucks in his breath.  “Rhaenys-,”

Rhaenys bites her lip.   “And the strange thing is, I’m never the age that I am.  In it, I wasn’t eight-and-ten.  Instead, I’m a little girl.  I might be four, I think.”   Tears well in her eyes.  “Tell me, what chance does a girl of four have against a man who wants to kill her?”

“Very little, I would judge.” Edmure softly replies.  “I’m sorry.  Maybe I shouldn’t have pressed you to tell me.”

“No.” Rhaenys corrects him.  “Don’t be sorry.  I-I do feel a little better now, as you predicted.”  It is not a lie.   She has never spoken about the dream to anyone else, before.  

It feels freeing.

She turns and wraps her arms around Edmure, kissing him.  This kiss feels different somehow.  It is not as though she hasn’t been vulnerable with Lord Edmure before.  She gave her maidenhood to him.  She will feel a little vulnerable in Riverrun she thinks, until she can gain the respect of Edmure’s household.

But this kiss – it is a comfort.  Of course, Rhaenys has been comforted before.  But the solace of a mother or brother is different from that of a husband.  This- the feeling of his lips against hers- is like being told a secret.  But it’s not a secret designed to hurt.  It’s not one where the longer it is kept hidden from the open, the worse the fallout is.  

Instead, it is like being given something small, fragile.  That is a precious thing, Rhaenys concludes.  It is a precious thing to be given such trust.

IV.

The Eighth Month of the Year 298

“I’ve had a thought,”  Edmure says, as Rhaenys massages his aching shoulders; courtesy of his sparring session.

Rhaenys had enjoyed watching that, very much.

“Oh?”  Rhaenys smirks.  Removing her hands from his shoulders, she cocks her head at him.  “Is that unusual for you, my lord?”

To her husband’s credit, he only grins at her.  Other men like Stannis Baratheon or Tywin Lannister were not so kind to such silly little japes.  

“I was thinking that perhaps we could write to some of our vassals’ families and ask for some girls.  For you, I mean.  I know you’ve brought some from Kingslanding.  But the Riverlands can’t be their home forever, while you- I think it would be good for you.  Not that I don’t think you’re not doing well in your duties so far.”  He adds quickly.

Rhaenys smiles warmly.  “That is a wonderful idea.  We should ask Maester Vyman for his counsel on who to choose.  Three seems a good number, I feel. In time, perhaps we can ask for some wards.  Companions for any younger sons or daughters we may have."

Edmure answers her with a kiss to the neck.   Rhaenys gasps. He has never kissed her there before.   Always on the lips or cheek.

She loves it.

“I hope we have a girl with hair like yours, my lady.”

Somehow, she knows that it will not be a wasteful thing to hope in this marriage.

#asoiaf #summer is for dorne #rhaenys x edmure #edmure tully #fluff #rhaenys targaryen (daughter of elia)

[izzielizzie]

Hi I have a request, but it's VERY au, but I've been thinking about it for a long time. So it's basically this: Maeve and Phoebe are best friends during the OOUIN time, I guess, and Maeve tells Phoebe about her cancer symptoms and her crush on Luis and they're at Brandon's funeral and they sit at a hidden place and Phoebe talks about Maeve's cancer and how she needs to talk to Luis and Addy, Kris, Nate, Cooper, and Luis hear. I think it would be interesting! Thanks love ❤❤ (love ur writing btw!)

ooo wow I love this idea, I’m going to pair this with another one-shot request I got where Brandon Weber is Mr. and Mrs. Rojas’ godson because they know Brandon’s parents, so basically Maeve is forced to go to the funeral to support her parents and because Brandon was her god-brother. Maeve and Phoebe are childhood best friends in this, like you suggested. Enjoy! Also this is the first time I’ve written from Phoebe’s pov so if the narration goes flat for a little while, it’s because I’m still trying to get a hang of her. Also Phoebe is being very sneaky in this fic, sorry, I like, ran out of ideas at some point. Okay I also read this over like two seconds ago it’s been in my drafts for forever basically, and I hate it but also kind of don’t? so let me know what y’all think. 

“Wanna get away?” Maeve whispers in my ear as I sidle up next to her. She looks cute today in a short black dress and leggings, and her hair is down for once. Although maybe noticing that someone looks cute at a funeral is socially unacceptable. 

“Sure,” I say as her hand slips into mine. I squeeze it once, our childhood code word for “are you okay?” that was invented when I visited Maeve in the hospital. She squeezes back with three quick squeezes: not really.

We’re standing between the church pews waiting for the funeral to start. Maeve’s been standing with her parents and Mr. and Mrs. Weber. and she looks so bored it’s actually amusing. 

“Mom, we’re gonna find seats,” Maeve whispers into her mother’s ear. 

“Sure honey,” Mrs. Rojas says absentmindedly patting the top of Maeve’s head. Maeve makes a face. “Oh, hello Phoebe dear,” Mrs. Rojas says wrapping me in a one-armed hug. She’s practically my second mother after having known her since I was three. 

“Hi,” I manage to say back before Maeve yanks me out of the aisle and down the pews to one of the doors leading to the balcony. We pause for a moment, look around, and push through the door when we’re positive no one is watching us. I don’t need to know where we’re going. Maeve and I found the perfect alcove for hiding a long time ago: on the upper part of the balcony on the same side as our family’s pews, where we can see all of the churchgoers, but they can’t see us. It’s saved us from many boring church services.

“I hate it here,” Maeve says once we drop into our usual seats. Maeve scrunches down until all I can see is the top of her head and her feet that she’s propped onto the bannister.

“Of this I am aware.”

Maeve holds her hand up and I take it in both of mine. Hers are too cold. I was honored when Maeve chose me out of all of her friends to tell me about how worried she is about her cancer coming back, but now I’m scared I’m gonna lose her every time I look at her. She’s withering away in front of me and there’s nothing I can do. “Wake me up when this is over.”

“Okay,” I say. The funeral itself doesn’t start for another twenty minutes, and Maeve spends the entire time with her head on my shoulder, her eyes closed. I’m not sure if she’s sleeping or pretending, but I squeeze her hand in mine and lay my head on top of hers. I’m drifting off too when I feel someone tapping my shoulder. I turn to see not only Addy Prentiss standing over me, but Cooper Clay, Nate Macauley, Luis Santos, and Cooper’s boyfriend Kris too.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Is she asleep?” Addy asks, reaching forward to tentatively run a hand through Maeve’s hair. I glace up at her, and catch sight of Luis looking at her with that longing look he reserves for only her. I love Maeve with my whole heart, but even I have to admit that running out after their kiss was a jerk move. 

“Very,” I confirm.

“She’s so adorable,” Addy whispers as she drops her hand to her side. “We’ll sit back there so we won’t wake her.” She says, waving to the seats a few rows back. I nod as Maeve stirs against me.

“I know,” I whisper back with a nod as Addy steps away. Before I can think much of it I call Nate’s name. 

“Yeah?” He asks, looking at me weirdly.

“Bronwyn’s not here?”

Nate shakes his head. “She couldn’t get a plane here fast enough. Why?”

I shake my head, pursing my lips. I want to tell him and all of Maeve’s friends about her cancer so badly, but I can’t betray Maeve’s trust. She’s been my best friend for thirteen years. I’d be lost without her. 

“I hate funerals,” Maeve mumbles to me a moment later when the priest’s microphone screeches so loudly Maeve startles out of her slumber. 

“I know babe.” 

“God I can’t believe he’s gone,” Maeve says. She shifts a little, her right foot slipping down the banister. 

“Neither can I.” I’m hyper aware of the people behind us even though they probably can’t hear us, and I really hope Maeve doesn’t bring up my relationship with Brandon.

“I feel bad for my parents. I mean, god to lose your godson.”

My head snaps towards Maeve, who’s staring up at the ceiling. “I forgot about that. Jesus, I just called your godbrother an asshole. I’m so sorry.”

Maeve raises an eyebrow at me. “I hated him Phoebe. I just feel bad for saying that about him now that he’s not...” Maeve trails off.

“With us because of illicit activities?” I offer.

Maeve smiles. “Let’s not make it sound like he was a cult sacrifice Lawton.”

For some reason, that makes me double over laughing. Maeve sits up and shakes me. “Shut up someone will hear us.” I wave Maeve away and sit up. 

“Okay, okay, sorry.” 

Maeve smirks at me as she slides back down in her seat. I glance behind us and see Addy holding onto Cooper’s arm as she laughs. I catch her eye, glance down to make sure Maeve isn’t looking at me - she’s not - and then point to Addy, tap my ear, and then wave at Maeve and I. I’m trying to ask if they can hear us, but I must look like a madwoman. Thankfully, Addy understands because she nods vigorously. I give her a thumbs up and turn back towards the priest as he lists off Brandon’s virtues. None of which he actually possessed. 

I bite my lip as I contemplate my next words. Maeve doesn’t know that anyone’s behind us, and asking her about her cancer and her crush on Luis would be deceptive. But I also know Maeve. She’ll never talk about those things unless pushed. 

Oh what the hell? You only live once and all that crap. 

I start off with a logical question: “Are you gonna miss him?”

Maeve turns to me. “Who? Brandon?”

“Yeah, I mean he was your godbrother.”

“And?”

“And you’ve always wanted a brother, right?”

“I’ve wanted an older brother Phoebe. Not a jerk who pushed me into a pond, poured coffee onto my lap when I was wearing shorts, and called me Cancer Girl for like, three years.”

Ouch. When she puts it that way, my question was pretty dumb.

“Right. Well, it’s too bad you don’t have an older brother that’s nice. Not that Brandon would have counted anyway, he’s younger than you.”

Maeve gives me her you’re such an idiot look. “Um, Phoebe, have you met Nate?”

“I have,” I say.

“Then you’ve met my older brother.”

“Right. Sorry, I should have remembered that.”

“Mhm.” Maeve goes back to staring at the ceiling, and I glance back to Addy and co. Addy’s mouthing “awww” at me with her hands over her heart, and Nate’s smiling a little at the back of Maeve’s chair. Oh yeah they can hear us all right. 

“Too bad Knox doesn’t have older brothers,” I say.

“Why?” Maeve asks.

“Because then they would have been like your brothers when you dated him.”

“I suppose so.”

“Luis has an older brother.”

Maeve’s still staring at the ceiling, so I risk a glance back behind me. Addy’s grinning at me and Luis is rolling his eyes. 

“So?” Maeve asks.

“So if you dated him, Manny would be like your brother.”

Maeve rolls her eyes. “Good to know,” she says in her end of conversation voice. 

“I know right? You could ask him out you know.”

“No.”

“But Maeve why not?”

“No.”

“Maevey.”

“No.” 

I can’t stand seeing Luis’s disappointed face, so I don’t turn around.

“Okay, give me one reason why you shouldn’t date the very kind, very handsome, and very in love with you person, who would say yes in a heartbeat.”

Maeve looks at me, her eyes searching my face. “It would be unfair,” she finally says.

“To who?”

“To whom,” she corrects, sounding and looking exactly like Bronwyn. 

“Right, that.”

“It would be unfair to Luis. Because I’d be dating him under false pretenses.”

“What?”

“False pretenses Phoebe, it means-”

“I know what it means, I just don’t understand what you mean.”

“Because I’m dying.” 

Wow okay. I pause for a moment. I glance behind me to see five equally stricken faces. Looks like Maeve really didn’t tell anyone other than me. 

“But Maeve you don’t know that. because you won’t tell anyone.” My voice rises with frustration and I’m scared I’ll start yelling and won’t stop. I’ve had weeks of pent of fear and anger inside of me, and the fear of losing my best friend is the straw that might just break this camel’s back.

“God, Phoebe, stop yelling. And I do. I mean, I’ve had every symptom except joint pain.”

“Well that’s good,” I say sarcastically. “We’ll just wait for you to rot and die and if your joints start hurting along the way we’ll consider telling someone.”

Maeve stares at me. “Don’t you dare tell Phoebe Lawton.”

I’m too angry to think about the consequences when I wave dramatically behind us. “I didn’t need to babe. You did it for me.”

Maeve sits up, turns around so quickly I’m afraid she’ll get whiplash, sees Cooper, Kris, Addy, Nate, and Luis sitting behind her, sighs, and slouches back in her chair. 

I’m taken aback. “You’re not gonna yell at me?”

Maeve doesn’t answer, her hands over her face. Fear surges through me and I lean forwards to take her arms and shake her. “Maevey, Maevey are you okay? Please don’t be crying.”

There’s a cry of alarm behind me, and within an instant, Nate and Addy are on Maeve’s other side. 

“I’m not crying,” Maeve mumbles, her voice angry but resigned as she pulls her hands away to reveal her bloody nose. 

Nate’s pulled a napkin out of his pocket before I can even realize what’s happened. 

“Where are your parents Maeve?” Cooper asks urgently. He, Kris, and Luis have joined us.

“Downstairs.” I glance down to see the procession leaving the church. I catch sight of Mrs. Rojas’s red curls in the sea of black. 

“Hurry they’re leaving,” Addy says urgently, but Cooper’s already gone. I turn back to Maeve as she sobs into Luis’s shoulder. Fear surges through me causing my heart to thump and my head to hurt until Mrs. Rojas arrives with Cooper on her heels. 

The next hour and half is a blur. I’m in the waiting room of Bayview Hospital next to Addy. My head is on her shoulder and she’s stroking my hair. “She’s gonna hate me,” I say, staring at the wall.

“She’s not,” Addy says.

“Yes she is.” I insist. 

Cooper puts his hand on my knee. “You did the right think Phoebe. Maeve knows that.”

“I hope so. But if she doesn’t die, I’m gonna kill her. Did she really expect me to be able to keep a secret like that?”

Nate shakes his head. “That’s Maeve for you.”

I smile at him. “It’s cute she thinks of you as a brother.”

Nate gives me a half grin. “She’s been my little sister from the moment I had an actual conversation with her. I’m just glad she feels the same way.”

“She talks about you a lot. Well, all of you. You mean a lot to her.”

“Glad to hear it,” Luis says darkly. He’s thinking about their kiss, I can tell. 

“Especially you,” I say to him. “She’s just scared of hurting you. Give her time.”

“Time for what?” Maeve asks as she walks into the waiting room behind her mother. 

“For admitting you’re in love with Luis.”

“Right,” Maeve says. She looks too tired to be embarrassed. “Want to sleep over Phoebe?”

“What? You don’t hate me?”

Maeve smiles. “I could never. I needed a push, and you knew it.”

“Well thank god I thought I’d have to start asking Emma for rides to school.”

Maeve rolls her eyes at me as we all stand and walk towards the exit. “Love you Maevey Laevey” I say, using my childhood nickname for her as I throw my arm around her. 

“Back at ya Phoebe Jeebies.”

#izzielizzie's fics

[angrylizardjacket]

the view from halfway down // charlotte&lola // 5

Summary: Lola brings Charlotte news, as she is want to do, and seems excited to look to the future.

A/N: @misscharlottelee only one chapter left nd this a happy one!!!

"Vasillisa's boycotting her weekends with me for the foreseeable future," Lola sighs with a strange sort of fondness, "mostly because I told her about Nikki and I having a new baby; she told me the only way I could make it up to her was Backstreet Boys tickets, and got all pissy when I reminded her that I don't manage them," she snickered, adding, "Spice Girls tickets are not an acceptable substitute, apparently." Looking at the dates on Charlotte's gravestone, Lola finds herself sharply reminded that these names would mean nothing to Charlotte.

"She wasn't nearly this mad about Brandon when Tommy and Pam told her, but she's always been kind of a daddy's girl," though her smile is a little sad as she concedes on this point, "I'm just glad she likes Leo well enough now; you remember she tried to throw him in the ocean the first time we took them both to the beach? Kind of funny now you consider he thinks the world of her. Whenever she stays with us she ropes him into being her little minion, they're kind of sweet together, especially when Penny's around."

"Charlie I wish you were here, it was so cute;" Lola gushes, leaning forward, her eyes shining with adoration, "Penny's looking to audition for the cheerleading team now that she's in high school, and she taught the tryout routine to Liss and Leo when she was babysitting them last week; Leo performed it for me and Nikki after he came back, that boy's got confidence coming out of his ears already," she beams, voice alight with pride.

"He's excited about the baby too, but he's excited about everything nowadays; he got glasses over the summer; we hadn't realised how badly he needed them, poor boy's practically blind. He spends a lot of time in the garden now, always showing me cool bugs and flowers, and found my dad's headstone the other day, well, rediscovered," Lola explains, "read dad's name and saw it said 'Leo' in it and asked if it was for him. Had to explain that it was for someone who meant a lot to me, and that we'd named him that because now he meant a lot to me. He seemed happy enough with that."

"School started back up again a few weeks ago," she sighs, finally sitting down, "every year, like clockwork," she snorts, "Penny wanted me to tell you that she's enjoying high school so far, and she's sorry she didn't visit over summer, but that she had a blast as camp councillor, and she'll be by soon." Lola paused, her smile gentle as she enjoyed the sunlight, feeling a warm contentment blossom in her chest. 

"I never went to high school," Lola admits, and its strange to think the fact has never come up before for all the time she's spent pouring her heart out to Charlotte, both when she'd been alive, and when she was simply a headstone, "between what happened with mom, the trial, moving to a group home, and running away with Nikki, no-one ever bothered to enrol me. I know Tommy never graduated high school, but he still went, you know? And you -" Lola cuts herself off with a sigh, shaking her head. "I'm just proud of Penny is all; without a doubt, our kids are gonna end up outshining us all." With that,Lola places a hand on the faintly noticeable swell of her stomach, smiling.

"I'm really excited, you know, about this one; I'm getting an ultrasound tomorrow, first one for this little peanut," she pats her stomach fondly, "we've already got a couple of names in mind, unearthed some lists from when we had Leo. We've run out of parents we want to honor, so we've been thinking Cerie if its a girl, or Cyrus if its a boy, no real special meaning, we just both like them. I kind of want their middle name to be Michael, or Michelle, for Mick; the fact that that geezer still treats me like family after everything we've been through, well I want to honor that, you know? Don't want it as a first name though, I think that's a bit much," she chuckles a little. 

"I can hear you asking 'why not Vince' - actually, no, I can't for many reasons, the main one being that I don't think you'd ever advocate for me naming any part of my child after Vince Neil," Lola pauses, "also because of the whole, you know," she blusters, gesturing to the grave, "but Nikki respects my weird pseudo-parental relationship with Mick, and Vince is... Vince." It's said with a fond smile, and an implied its different, you understand. Lola's quiet for a long while, and sucks a breath in through her teeth as she stares out at the horizon, fidgetting for a moment. After a beat, she scratches at the nicotine patch on her arm. 

"Sometimes I just get these weird cravings, and I'm worried its not working, but it is and they're just pregnancy cravings; I literally forget every time how much I start jonesing for some spearmint, its not as bad as my heroin cravins were, and there's no patch for that," she adds, "they're better now, though; its like my old cigarette itch. I can't chainsmoke spearmint but I fucking wish I could." Lola looks to the gravestone, "did you get cravings? Its been so long since Penny was just a peanut, I can't remember. I bet it was something weird too, like bananas with mayonaise, and Razzle would probably already have them ready before you'd even ask, and say something baffling like," and Lola puts on a terrible impression of Razzle's accent when she speaks through her smile, "back in the UK, tha's just gravedigger's biscuits, innit love?"

"The UK doesn't know what biscuits are," Lola adds with a snort and a roll of her eyes, smirking. 

"The kid's put a hold on the wedding plans though; looks like if we survive Y2K we'll be getting hitched in the new millennium. Finally," she adds with an amused little smile, before her expression drops to something hesitant, "I was thinking of asking Penny to be my Maid of Honor, but thought I should run it by you first; I've got a few girls from the office for bridesmaids - its strange, I've actually got, like, friends now, just took me forty years to learn how to make them, instead of getting lucky like when you decided I was worth it. Also, I know I've said this before, but I really am sorry about how shitty I was as a friend at times; you were much better to me than I deserved, but I think you know that," Lola's expression is self deprecating, but her words are honest. 

"I want Penny as my Maid of Honor," Lola repeats, adding, "it makes sense. And Pam's also a bridesmaid, which makes less sense, but you know, we actually get along really well, which I think surprised both of us. Tommy is unsurprisingly Nikki's best man, and its genuinely not weird this time," Lola laughs easily as she explains her wedding plans to no-one. "He's both of our best friends, which tends to confuse everyone else, but that's just how things worked out, and we're just," Lola actually grins as she lets out a chuckle amid a sigh of contentment, "we're happy, Charlie. I know it took forty fucking years, but it feels like.my life's finally worked out." And she gives the grave a fond smile, "the only thing missing is you."

#the angry lizard writes #the dirt #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx #lola & charlotte #charlotte&lola

[allykat4416]

Meme Trip 2k19, Pt. 1

Dates: May 16 and 17th

Park: Kings Island in Mason, Ohio 

I didn’t make trip reports for my second meme-trip in August of 2018. At the time, I thought I was doing myself a favor. Now, I incredibly regret not sharing that stuff straight away. I missed the chance to talk about my first visits to two parks that have very unique spots in my life. The first of those, obviously, is Six Flags New England, a park I’d been dying to go to because of one certain Superman. {And I did leave Massachusetts as a Super Stan.} The other of these parks is Kings Island.

Kings Island and I have a long, storied history filled with intense emotions. Like Carowinds, a lot of my plans to visit KI fell dead along the way— Dad didn’t win the tickets, I didn’t like my classmates enough to justify the trip, I wasn’t able to make the drive up, etc. It’s a park that means a lot to my dad, and he took my mom there when she came to meet his family for the first time. He was one of the first riders of Beast, there for her birthday as a gift for his own.

I cried in 2018 because I didn’t want it to be my home park when I thought I would be going to Northern Kentucky University. I used to crusade hard as hell for KI to never get a giga. The park gave me the largest heebie-jeebies when I visited in August of 2018. I don’t think I feel emotions as intensely for theme parks as some of my comrades, but Kings Island is one of those parks that almost makes me believe I can.

It was a rainy Thursday after a day of nothing but car-riding [and driving for Casie, bless her soul] when we pulled up into the parking lot. We saw that infamous “HELL IS REAL” billboard about an hour out, and I found it quite ironic. For a park that’s been so full of death and negative energy, it was fitting that that’s where we saw the iconic sign.

When we got into the park, both of the Not-Evil Wooden Coasters [NEWC, as it is] were down. We didn’t know why regarding Beast, but we did find out later that Mystic was struggling from electrical issues that day. We liked to think they were conspiring to make the 2020 giga not suck and help everyone else with half a soul say “fuck off” to Steve. Enemy of the enemy is my friend and whatnot.

Instead, we decided to get a snake in our boot since we were already in Rivertown. Diamondback has always been a solid ride—I maintain that B&M hypers are like ordering chicken tenders at a new restaurant because it’s very, very hard to mess them up and even 232 is fun when the trims don’t hit—but she was running really well that day. Diamondback ended up being our final ride of the day in the pouring rain. Rain at 80 mph doesn’t feel very great, but it was a laugh riot and worth it. I keep meaning to get a front-row ride on this, but the back row is such a tantalizing experience that I can’t quite pull myself away from it.

As far as B&M hypers go (and I’m not counting Fury), Diamondback is now my favorite. At any other park, it would probably be my second favorite in the overall roster, but Snek is actually my third at KI because of the aforementioned NEWCs. I wish we were able to get a ride in the following day, but Coasterstock had her queues slammed. Oh well.

After that, we headed over to see our favorite little anxiety boy, Flight of Fear. I don’t get the hate these rides receive. I find both this and his twin at KD to be fine, upstanding rides that are always worth at least one lap when I go. It’s one of those rare rides where stopping on the MCBR actually works in its favor. We were also assigned to the front row, which gives me the biggest uwus. We came up with a really cool character concept if Orion/Polaris sucks in the queue for FOF, and even if the ride is underwhelming, we’re happy Felix has a vaguely-powerful ally. There’s not a whole lot else about FOF to say- the transitions were nice and whippy, the little alien as you pull into the exit station is adorable, and I like the enclosure of it. I hope FOF is around for a nice long while.

(Obligatory RIP Firehawk comment here as well. Thanks for being a good flyer. Piss off, Nighthawk.)

Since it was the only wooden coaster open, it’s time to talk about Racer. I don’t want to talk about Racer. But sadly, I have to talk about Racer. Everything about this ride feels wrong- the aerial view of the turnarounds, the tunnels on the brake runs, the way almost literally everyone else universally adores this ride… Racer holds a lot of energy, and all of it is cryptic. It makes me wish I’d ridden Thunder Road, because Rebel Yell does not have this sense of permanent creeping dread. Ride-wise, Racer is inoffensive. But the vibe that ride gives me isn’t good. At all. We rode twice, red and blue. We raced Deb, Kat, and Brandon while in red and lost. We were the only people on red train, but we did not feel alone in the worst possible way. We won when we rode blue to peek at construction. The cheering in the tunnels had us fucked up.

I hate that, if there are any personifications that have a chance of being real, it’s most likely Abraham and Thaddeus. I’ve never been so wrong about a coaster’s personification before I rode it in my life.

We needed an exorcism after that ride on blue train, so we went to Banshee next. Again, while not my favorite invert, I don’t understand why so many people seem to hate this ride. I think a B&M invert complements their park nicely, and that slow roll at the end is nothing short of fire-hot. It’s also tons of fun to flip off Outpost 5 while you’re on it. It’s what Brynn would want us to do. Plus, missing the pre-drop never fails to give me butterflies! I do wish they had played the audio scream before we dropped though.

We got to ride this with one of our Insta friends, Wild, and we were both really happy to see her. She’s a great kid, and Banshee is a fun ride. We love our pastel goth icon, and we love our Junkrat Stan of a little sister. We also befriended a Banshee ride operator, and their group chat is called “Banshee’s Hot Topic” and that makes me want to cry in a good way.

Bat is awful in the sense that it breaks my heart. Yes, Tanner as a character is very sad (especially so in the Project Shooting Star universe), but it always hammers home how badly I miss Big Bad Wolf. What I’d give for one last ride on the Rhine with my lupine friend… Bat’s in a beautiful area, but that queue makes me feel like I’m at Camp Crystal Lake and Jason’s about to have some fun. Also, can we all say how much we hate seeing SOB’s old station? Because I hate that! A lot!!

Again. Like Racer, Bat as a ride is objectively inoffensive. But there’s so much energy around it, and I’m not sure if it’s residual garbage leftover from Son, the gunpowder factory, and the safari or what. Bat feels so detached from the rest of the park, but I don’t think there’s a more perfect place than KI for a ride that feels this full of sorrow.

Vortex was a one-and-done for us after some sinfully delicious blue ice cream, but I do admit it was better in the rain. The drop actually provided some decent air, and while the transitions are pretty janky, it’s an Arrow from the 80s. You can’t go into it expecting something butter smooth like B&M. That isn’t fair. It’s still not my favorite Arrow looper, and it wasn’t even my favorite one of this trip, but I do think I might have judged it a tad too harshly before. Like FOF, there isn’t much else to say about this ride.

The people we met also made the day phenomenal! Wild, Brandon, Kat, Debra…this one’s for you. I raise my Raisin’ Cane’s tea to ya’ll, stay funky and ride on.

But one day at that cryptic-ass park is never enough, shit’s like Hotel California. Being gluttons for punishment, we returned to Cursed Island.

Kings Island is so different in bright sunshine. It almost feels like a normal amusement park. Almost. We went for the first couple of hours, since Coasterstock people were there and it was a Friday on top of that. It was also hot as a ghost pepper outside. I’m still really sad we missed Tristin and Plummy!! Maybe next time. We did, however, finally get to meet Stephanie in real-life, and she’s pretty chill. We did the dumbest shit for our picture. However, I’m 99% sure the ride operator said “Enjoy your ride on Son of Beast!” when she was with us and I heavily dislike that.

We’d done basically everything else that we had wanted to the day prior. We already had the credits for Backlot, Invertigo, and Adventure Express, and none of those really warranted waiting in the lines. Vortex and Bat had been ridden already this visit. We have mad love for Banshee, FOF, and Diamondback, but those waits were gnarly. We didn’t want to even look at Racer again, let alone ride it. So now, we went to the NEWCs.  

Since Five is dead, we rode Beast three times that morning. She was over her alcoholic shitfit, I suppose, and was running very well. Brandon called Beast a good noodle. From a ride standpoint, you can make the case that until that final helix, Beast doesn’t do very much. I personally like how it’s a bit more speed-oriented, but I understand why some others might not. Like Boulder Dash, I think a lot of the ride experience comes from the scenery. I also think knowing Beast’s history makes it the marvel it is. We got some pretty good air on the first hill after the main drop, and that helix is always so damn scary to me. Top 10 coaster moment for sure.

Beast has a TON of energy to it, but unlike Racer or Bat, it isn’t malicious. You may not like Beast, but you WILL respect Beast, you feel? And that energy is why I think Beast will always be my favorite in the park, even over the giga (and especially so if those blueprints are real.) Beast isn’t just a coaster. It’s an experience, and one that makes the park so worth visiting. My only regret is we didn’t get one of those fantastic night-rides.

If those blueprints are real, it’s time to talk about what will most likely still be my second favorite coaster at KI come 2020. Since Thunderhead was my first major coaster, I always have held a soft spot for GCI. And while I do still believe Thunderhead is better, boy howdy do I love Mystic Timbers. It’s a shitshow of a name for a kickass ride. Lines only allowed us to ride once, but we were lucky enough to be assigned to row one. Mystic is definitely better towards the front, I believe. You feel better air there, and while I still don’t think MyTi’s got ejector, it’s stronger floater in the front. (The truck out front played Survivor and I had to scream “WOW I LOVE SIX FLAGS”, so maybe she was just pissy over that.)

I understand why people were disappointed with the shed. Holograms can’t hold a candle when you’re expecting a Verbolten-style drop track. But the shed is cute for what it is, and it’s better than being stacked in the sunshine. We saw the snake scene this time, which is probably my favorite since Tatzelwurm doesn’t even exist in PSS universe anymore. Killer Cat was the best shed scene, but snakes will do.

Also, fun fact about Mystic. When we visited in October, I kept saying how badly I wanted to hear Bonnie Tyler in the shed. We hear it. Friday, I jokingly went “oh booooy I hope I hear my girl Bonnie again!” Lo and behold, we hit the shed and it plays Total Eclipse of the Heart. I lost my goddamn mind. Mystic Timbers said 80s retro. Hate that name, but man oh man, do I love that ride. We love our GCIs with big tiddys and bad personalities.

We rode the train to snag some pictures of Mystic and Snake Friend, but then we dipped and hit Taco Bell as one does. It was better that way. Kings Island had told us all it wanted to for now, and it let us take our time to mosey to the next park and really digest what we’d seen. We also had the opportunity to meet back up with Bee and spend some time with her since we left!

All in all, KI is such a cursed park. I know saying that makes it sound like I really dislike KI, but that’s not the case. I adore Kings Island BECAUSE it’s so cryptic. Their lineup is solid, and even though we can’t truly judge the giga before it opens, I don’t think it’s going to elevate them any but it won’t necessarily bring the park down. There’s so, so much in Mason to unpack, especially in the months to come. I can’t wait to see them again.

#trip reports #cursed island makes me do the big uwu

[athalwen]

Wit/Hoid in the Oathbringer Epilogue

We got a lot of information about Hoid from this book. Maybe not a ton of backstory stuff, but his vibes completely changed, and I’m TOTALLY on board with this. I was fascinated by, interested in, and curious about Hoid before this book (because who isn’t?) but after reading Oathbringer, I feel like we’re able to understand him a little bit better on an emotional level--because we actually see emotions from him, because he has real, meaningful, human interactions. There’s actually quite a lot of this in “Aim for the Sun,” which I’ll ramble about at any time... probably later...

Anyway, the lovely co-host and I spent some time going through the epilogue and assembling some things that we learn about Hoid and quite a few things that we can infer about Hoid, but it’s Hoid, so there’s never any way to tell for sure... 

Oathbringer spoilers below the cut. 

--“Not a mask he put on. Real sorrow. Real pain.” 

Hoid does care. He’s not a cold, unfeeling immortal, and we got to see some of this earlier with Shallan. That’s probably got to be hard, too, because if you know you’re going to outlive pretty much everyone and everything, caring about people is going to cause a lot of pain. Hoid has seen worlds burn, and he’ll probably see it again. (Source)

--Hoid’s inability to cause physical harm also extends to himself, which is why he has to have the Thaylen man punch him in the face. (Source)

--He can’t control his healing the way someone like Wayne would be able to. “He had a few days, with his healing repressed, until the tooth grew back.” 

This makes it seem like, unless he purposefully represses some magic, he can’t control whether he heals or not. It’s gonna happen. Probably not terribly significant, but interesting. 

--He does care about being well-received. This is getting into speculative territory, but he says he’s reluctant to leave the city because he’s had a better audience here than with the lighteyes. Brandon has said that Hoid’s able to control how much or how little he cares about what people think of him (source) but I wouldn’t be surprised if, after being hated and ridiculed for so long, it felt nice to be around people who actually appreciated him. 

--Rayse would destroy the city without hesitation if it meant he might be able to end Hoid. This statement by itself is terrifying, but it doesn’t tell us much. Is Rayse afraid of Hoid? Afraid of what he might be able to do? Does he just hate him enough to want him gone that badly? Either way, they used to be friends... what happened there? I need answers...

--“The right concoction had made him lose his hair in patches.” 

It’s been a bit since I’ve read Elantris, so forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t there a potion thing in that book that does exactly this same thing? Either way, it doesn’t feel very Rosharan to me. We haven’t seen anything from Stormlight that hints at concoction type stuff. 

--Hoid has made rag dolls before. Kind of random, but the ease with which he wraps the cord around the rags betrays some kind of past experience. I don’t care how clever you are, you don’t do this quickly and efficiently without having done it before, even if you’re able to examine a finished product before you begin. Which he doesn’t.

--‘One more. One more, then I go.’ 

Okay, I love this line. It’s what he thinks when he leaves his conversation with Kheni to go find the little girl. To me, this sounds like Hoid has to force himself away. Like he has to force himself to stop helping people. It’s the kind of thing I think when I’m watching Netflix instead of doing homework, because I know that homework must be done, but I don’t want to leave Netflix. So Hoid doesn’t want to stop helping these people, even though he knows he has a bigger mission in the city. Hoid knows these people, he knows their names and their situations, so it sounds an awful lot like he’s been doing this for a bit. I absolutely adore this. We haven’t really seen this from Hoid before. (I have a theory about this, but it’s pure speculation and emotional analysis, so I’ll refrain from clogging this post). 

--You can tell a lot about a character from their narrative voice. What’s important to them, what stands out, how they view the world. That being said, this epilogue is written from Hoid’s perspective, and the line “he felt life from one” is such a throwaway comment that I nearly missed it the first time I read the paragraph. It’s in the middle of a paragraph, and isn’t even the focus of the sentence. Being able to sense life is such a normal thing for Hoid that it doesn’t even stand out in his narrative. 

The only way I can think of at this moment (please correct me if I’m wrong) to sense life is with Breath. First Heightening grants “Increased life sense,” which is kind of vague, and Fourth Heightening grants “Perfect life sense,” which is less vague, but we still probably don’t understand exactly how it works. So if Hoid is using Breath to feel life, he has... a lot of it. At least the Second Heightening, we think, and maybe more. There might, of course, be other magics that grant some form of life sense. We don’t know everything about Hoid, not by a long shot, and he’s got magics we’re not familiar with. 

Disclaimer: Breath and Awakening are the magic system I’m the least familiar with. I’m not sure if life sense increases gradually as you get more Breath or if it hovers around the same point until you reach the Fourth Heightening. 

--He doesn’t change his voice, vocabulary, or speech patterns to talk to a child. No baby voice from Hoid. I approve of this. 

--Speculation time. Hoid spends so much time in this chapter talking about art, which is kind of his thing, but the fact that he carries this conversation on among multiple people, some of whom are undoubtedly very confused, makes it clear that he’s probably talking to himself more than them. Talking to himself about what, then? Art? Or, perhaps, talking to himself about himself? 

--So, Cob. Kheni’s husband. This is also the name of Wax’s carriage driver in Bands of Mourning, which takes place, timeline-wise, after Stormlight 5. I’m just suspicious of someone who seems to like Hoid and who later holds the same job that Hoid had one book previously. 

--Speaking of Cob, he asks Hoid to stay a little longer, to which Hoid says, “I should think you are the first to ever ask me that, Cob. And in truth, the sentiment frightens me.” 

I think that Hoid is genuinely afraid of emotional attachment and vulnerability. We see a lot of this in his earlier interactions with Shallan, which I won’t get into right now, but some of the things I’m studying have to do with conversational tactics and emotional vulnerability, and I’m very, very interested in how they apply to Hoid. I’ll talk about this for days. 

--So, Hoid knew this Fused lady, Vatwha, and their relationship was presumably a non-hostile one. I just find this interesting. Also, he can hide from people who are trained to look for him, plus Odium. I’m just appreciative. 

--How does Hoid know specifically where the spren is? Odium’s people have been looking for it, but he just knows. We were getting tired at this point and didn’t really speculate on this beyond... “magic”

--The book never SAYS that he bonds the Cryptic, which, coming from Sanderson, means we have to be careful with assumptions. But... all the clues are there. To me, it felt more like a “coming soon...” and less like a “but did he or did he not bond with this spren?” So I’m going to continue forward assuming that he’s got a new friend. (And Hoid needs friends. Please give him friends)

--So, he refers to himself as Wit, not Hoid. I’ve always found this interesting. I DON’T think that he’s got the same things going on as Shallan, but Brandon has said a couple things (here, here) that make me wonder about what’s really going on in Hoid’s head with his different aliases. 

--As a note... I love Hoid’s vocabulary. “What a conundrum” is a wonderful phrase to hear him just casually use. And, earlier in the book, “Don’t be persnickety.” Amazing.

I’ll wrap up there for now. I’ve probably missed a lot. In my defense, it was 3 am. I need sleep, but I’d rather have the cosmere. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, or argue anything I might’ve interpreted oddly, or just talk about stuff... I love this kind of thing. 

#cosmere #hoid #oathbringer #oathbringer spoilers #wit #oathbringer epilogue #cfsbf #hoid time #total speculation #athalwen will ramble about hoid for days #but honestly #the amount of information we get about hoid in this book is incredible #I will go on and on if I'm not stopped #the lovely co-host #fun times at 3 am #perhaps... I should have better sleep habits #but who am I fooling that's never going to happen

[rivernovaa]

Books Read In October 2020

New and Selected Poems, Volume One by Mary Oliver: Amazing! Show Stopping! Wonderful! Excellent! Mary Oliver is my favorite poet I have found. The way she captures nature and how it feels to coexist with it is inspiring. I feel so connected to her in many ways. Every poem in this book left me with something and my book is so marked up!! I will re read many times and I’m going to purchase everything i can find by her. I adore this woman and her words. Also I will be getting a tattoo from a line in her poem ‘Wild Geese’ “ You must never stop being whimsical”.

Disappearing Earth by Julia Phillips: In the recent months I have found I love the mystery/thriller genre. This book makes me question. The novel was not as captivating or omniscient as the cover. I was highly disappointed by this book. I THOUGHT the plot was about two missing girls in russia but about three chapters actually covered that base line of the story. The rest of the book was nonsense to me. I highly enjoy reading novels where the characters do nothing because I love humans just existing and they are interesting that way, but this was excruciating to read. I didn’t care for any of the characters which - ever chapter was about a new person so I didn’t have time to get attached. It was overall really bad and I wouldn’t recommend it. I will say that I didn’t see the ‘twist’ (aka finding out who abducted the girls) but I also hadn’t even wondered and didn’t care about anything other than finishing the book.

Untamed by Glennon Doyle: This book is one of my favorite I’ve read this year. It feels really special to me because one of my dear friend lended her copy to me. This was a fantastic self reflection by the author. I don’t read many books like this one and I feel it changed me. It’s one I think about constantly. Glennon writes beautifully and I felt connected to her life. She had gone through struggles i’ve been through and touched topics such as ed, drugs, sexuality, and spirituality. I feel like reading this helped me on my own journey. Very happy I read this. It left a mark on me.

Real life by Brandon Taylor: Wow. This book. Everything. This is a story about a black gay man named Wallace who I want to be friends with so badly. The story takes place within a few short days and it left me really evaluating exactly how I stand up for my black friends and the subtle racism that happens every day that white people look over because they don’t think it matters as much. I thought this story was beautiful and it touched on child molestation which I would have thought would be extremely triggering for me but the author wrote it in a way that was okay to read and I really respect that and felt comfortable (enough as one could) reading it. This is Brandon’s first novel published and I will be reading whatever he puts out next. INCREDIBLE STORY.

The Rumi Daybook by Rumi: I needed this book really badly. This helped me get closer to myself and my God. I love Rumi and this is another book that it marked on every page. I highly recommend everyone look into Rumi.

Recursion by Blake Crouch: Holy shit. Blew me away. I’ve never read any books on time travel before and this book has now sent me down the rabbit hole. I’ve never read such an interesting, suspenseful book. It’s about a woman named Helena and a machine she’s created that can allow the user to go back to a particular memory of theirs and change it. So many things happen in this book it was insanity and I thought this book was gonna be cheesy but it was somehow very realistic and fascinating. LOVED.

The Test by Sylvain Neuvel: Okay I’m disappointed. I was told this novel had black mirror vibes and while I can understand the comparison, It’s a shitty comparison. I didn’t love the plot or how it ended and I basically hated reading it. So there’s that. Read at your own boredom!

Hood Feminism by Mikki Kendall: Wow. I Needed to read this and I think EVERYONE needs to read this. This touched on so many topics having to do with racism and how black women are harmed every day. A MUST READ!!!!!!

City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert: Historical fiction book that broke my heart. I loved this book. Kinda wanna give some other historical fiction a try.

#my books

[angstymarshmallow]

My Little Trailblazer - Kaitlyn x MC Fanfic

[A little note: A cool bean I know requested a part 2 of A Kindled Flame and if you haven’t already you should head on over here to read before reading this. This is supposed to take place the same night that Kaitlyn came home in tears after realizing she was flunking her spring semester. I was always going back to write another kaitlyn x mc fanfic but I just didn’t know if it’d be as well received like the last time because of my clear ineptitude to romance. I’m sorry it’s so long. Here’s to a happy end of the spring semester for this adorable ship. Woo boy; in any case this fanfic is for you and for all the kaitlyn x mc shippers out there!]

[Summary: Studying isn’t helping MC to forget and neither is pretending that the break up didn’t happen. When Kaitlyn comes home - with fresh tears and a plea for forgiveness, MC realizes how much her little trailblazer meant to her. No matter how much distance she’d given her; it didn’t make loving her any less - possible. ]

I don’t want to miss her anymore. 

If I couldn’t deny that I did, at least I could wish I didn’t. At least I could wish fervently that things could change - that the longing inside my heart would one day cease. It was some sort of downward spiral; that was the only thing I could think of it as. A flame I was still drawn to but now that it had burned me so deeply; could I ever begin to pick up the pieces she left behind? A trailblazer in her own right that had taken so much of me with her when she left. 

I couldn’t extinguish what I felt for her. The flame wavered from time to time but it was still there. Weeks later and it was nowhere near dying out the way it should. I thought distance would have allowed it to flicker and die out. Instead, it remained nestled inside my heart. She brought me the sun and without her all I had left was this blistering cold and emptiness. She left me distant reminders of her sunshine.

I kept pushing myself to write, to study – distractions from missing her. Except the second I let my guard down, my thoughts wandered. They would drift and remember how many nights she spent snuggled inside my arms, how many afternoons we spent doubled over laughing at nearly being caught together in dressing rooms, and when I gave into the temptation to scroll through old photos of us – all of it reminded me of how much I missed her.

They were wrong. Out of sight, hadn’t meant she was out of mind.

I left early.

She came home late.

It was our cycle.

My eyes would linger a little longer than necessary by her room, hoping to catch any sign of her while the other part of me couldn’t fathom what to do if I did. I imagined her concert as some sort of nightmare; she never said those words to me. The words that had pierced my heart. I would imagine she was inside my room instead, waiting for me to come home. But as soon as I stepped inside our dorm, that wistful thinking shattered. 

Maybe it would have made everything worse between us. Or maybe she was hurting as much as I was; maybe all I had to do was to reach out to her, to stop the feelings of isolation we were feeling from turning into barriers. I loved her, I never stopped loving her.

Why is this so hard? Why does loving someone have to hurt so much? I was angry, hurt - but most of all I was lonely. I wish someone had an answer for me, some response that would put everything back into perspective because living without Kaitlyn was like not having enough air to breathe.

The only people I could look to for guidance didn’t understand what I was going through. They weren’t in my circumstances. Abbie and Tyler were always solid; I haven’t even seen them have a real argument before. Zack and Brandon were perfect; and even with all the distance between them – they somehow managed to make it work.

Meanwhile, Kaitlyn and I were an utter mess.

“What’s lithium oxide’s ionic compound and when does it result in a solid compound with a high melting point?”

The question startled me. “Hmm?” I muttered absently before bringing my attention from the outside of my thoughts. I blinked rapidly, taking in my surroundings until I realized for the fourth time today that I had forgotten where I was.

Zack flicked a small piece of paper at me, “C’mon Naomi, focus here. We’re nearly through Chemistry.”

Shrugging sheepishly, I stared at my untouched bagel and muttered a stiff apology.

Right. We were supposed to be studying.  I couldn’t remember how long I had been sitting here, lost inside my own thoughts but the nonsensical scribbles at the bottom of my page probably meant that I hadn’t been paying attention for awhile.

The four of us sat cross-legged inside the living room. Notes and textbooks were scattered all around us, and were turning into unorganized stacks that were piling up with each subject we tackled. Zack was currently writing something down while Tyler and Abbie exchanged worried glances before looking back at me.

Life around me seemed to move on despite my own inner turmoil. Finals were nearly here and most nights were spent studying with the rest of my suitemates, except for the quiet moments when I wanted to be alone. It was slowly turning into one of those moments. 

We were supposed to be studying Chemistry when my mind had wandered again. I thought this would have been the distraction I needed, but it hadn’t made a difference. I couldn’t find my focus. Weeks had passed by, and yet I felt just as lost as I had been that night.

I hid my scribbled notes under the crook of my arm and apologized again. I forced a smile, “I know you’re just trying to help me get in the zone, and I appreciate it.” I took a deep breath. I knew they felt the but coming even before I said it. “But maybe I should study alone.” Maybe I need to be alone. I added silently. I handed Abbie the rest of my highlighters before standing.

“Or maybe you should just stay and listen.” Zack’s voice was laced concern, “You don’t have to participate you just –” He lowered his voice, “shouldn’t be alone.”

His words hurt. But they weren’t wrong. I used to relish being alone; I used to enjoy the silence because being alone used to be familiar before them - before Kaitlyn. I just needed to find a way to feel comfortable with the idea again. Though some part of me was touched by their worry, the rest of me felt guilty that I was slowing them down. “It’s fine really. I’m fine.” The words felt off, and so does the small smile I gave them. If studying wasn’t going to give me the break I needed – then nothing was going to work. Better to just get back to it when I felt a little less likely to fall apart.

I grabbed my textbooks, “Some alone time will do me some good.”

Another round of worried glances. “Really, I’m fine.” I insisted again, feeling a little irritated by their concern. I was used to being the person that held us altogether. I was used to poking my head into other people’s lives but not the other way around. Their worry unsettled me, I wasn’t doing that badly…was I?

I took another deep breath to try and settle my nerves. My grip tightened on the books inside my arms. “Thanks for worrying about me, but I guess what I really need is some time.” I just want to forget – but then I don’t want to forget. “And maybe that means being alone for awhile.”

Zack was the first one to say anything. The rest of them were still looking at me with the strange entanglement of worry even though they pretended not to; with forced smiles on their faces. They didn’t seem as if they were inclined to stop me if I suddenly bolted. “We get it.” Zack softly said.

“Thanks.” I turned on my heels with the intention of tossing my books through the window being the likely scenario before I heard the turn of the front door. Automatically my eyes flew up in question towards the noise and the string of cursing that accompanied it.

I froze. She wasn’t supposed to be home yet.

I sucked in a deep breath as my eyes found hers – and held.

I couldn’t move. I felt stuck, like somehow seeing her only reminded me painfully how much I missed her. The books fell out of my grasp and I couldn’t tear myself away to stop them from falling before they clattered on the floor.

She had been crying. Even though she tried to hide it with soft makeup, I could still tell. All the playfulness that I was accustomed to seeing was missing and her eyes were tinged with regret and a pinch of tiredness. Her expression was so desolate, so painfully sad that it made my heart hurt - I had to touch my chest to make sure my heart was still there.

I couldn’t look away; my eyes drank in every detail of her. Her hair was different, all side-swept together into a messy ponytail with streaks we dyed what felt like a lifetime ago. Her hands shook as she stepped inside. All of my instincts were telling me to go to her, to say something extremely lame in an attempt to break the uneasy silence that fell once we saw her. I wanted to wipe that expression off her face so badly. But then I remembered; she wasn’t mine anymore.

Right. Distance. I hugged myself instead, and waited like the rest of our suitemates for her to speak.

Her eyes looked defeated, and sadness clung to her every move. Her feet shuffled and she dropped her belongings before she choked out a sob.

“Kaitlyn…?” I trailed off, uncertainly. It had been awhile since I said her name out-loud. It came out like a breathy sigh.

When her eyes caught mine again – it seemed to have broke it. Whatever thing that had poisoned us. Suddenly she was rushing, practically sailing across the room until she could throw her arms around me. “I’m sorry!” She choked out.

I didn’t have time to think, my body which had become so accustomed to her automatically shifted until I could press my lips to her neck. She didn’t stop me and I inhaled her familiar scent, trying to comfort myself with the fact that she was really here. I couldn’t speak not yet, I didn’t want to break this. I wanted to keep her here. I ran my hands over her back trying to soother the gentle cries that came from her.

The clear of someone’s throat made her pull back long enough to explain. “I know I’ve been kind of a jerk lately,” She gave a half-smile that didn’t reach her eyes and took another large step back enough for me to remember how to breathe. Her words were for everyone but her eyes never left mine. “And I’m so sorry for pushing you all away – I just thought I had everything figured out and. And.” Her breath hitched.

“Slow down.” My voice was soft, barely a whisper. I kept my hands by my side even though they were itching to wipe her tears away. Even though they were itching to touch her again. “What’s wrong?”

“Honestly, what isn’t wrong?” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I’m pretty sure I won’t make it through finals.” She collapsed inside our sofa and buried her face inside her hands. “All of the skipped classes…all the missed assignments…They’ve finally caught up to me.” When she glanced back up at us again, at me - she handed me a half-open letter. “It’s from Harfeld.”

The rest of our friends pooled around me and peeked over my shoulder to see the letter. My hands shook a little as I opened it. I read it quickly, and blinked rapidly at the words; not believing with my own eyes the words that were so clearly written. Crap, she was failing everything. “Kaitlyn, didn’t you check your emails?” I asked glancing down at her. “Usually schools give some kind of notice….”

 “Yes.” She bit her lip as her face fell again. “Okay no,” She sighs in frustration, “It’s been awhile I guess.” Her eyes searched the room but like an invisible force between us; they kept landing back to mine. “I know I have no right to ask you guys –”

“You don’t even have to ask.” Abbie interrupted, “We’re here for you.” She waited a beat before glancing at the rest of us for affirmation. “Right guys?” 

One by one we all nodded. Then nodded a second time, more fiercely. “No one goes to sleep tonight!” Zack cheered. We were going to be an unstoppable force until Kaitlyn’s finals were finished.

“Chris says he’ll be here soon too, so it’s a group effort.” I mumbled glancing at my phone. He sent his text not too long ago, but I had been too preoccupied at the time to give it much thought.

Kaitlyn’s lips trembled before she uttered a small sigh. It sounded like a sigh of relief. “Thanks guys,” She bit her lip, “…I don’t even know if I deserve this.” She wasn’t looking at any of us anymore.

“We can talk about that later.” I interrupt with a thin smile I didn’t feel as her eyes followed the sound of my voice. “Right now, we have work to do.”

I wasn’t imagining the tension in the room as we all sat together on the floor. And much to my surprise - Kaitlyn sat beside me; with only two feet separating us once we started. I couldn’t deny the rush I felt with her being so close even as I tried to ensure there was enough between us for me to remain clear-headed.

I didn’t say anything at first. Abbie lead us through the first subject – Shakespeare’s Hamlet and before long we began reviewing all of Hartfeld’s materials – subject by subject. At first, I only peeked at her from the corner of my eyes every now and then as everyone else tried their hardest to get the subjects to stick. Gratefully, no one mentioned how stiff I was. Eventually, I couldn’t hold onto it any longer. The anger. The pain. I had to force it back so that I could help. Wasn’t this what I wanted anyway? To see Kaitlyn reunited with us…but more than that I wanted her here, for me. 

Tension began to dissolve as I joined in, adding my own helpful hints as we tackled each subject tirelessly. It was a team effort - all of us here tonight, working together the way we used to before all the drama started. 

Every now and then my eyes strayed to her. Her familiar smile, the look of surprise that gradually transitioned into sudden joy when something stuck and the indecisive looks she sent in my direction when she thought I wasn’t looking. I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t resist. It was torture, being so close but never being close enough. “Can we take a break?” I asked abruptly, some time later.

It was close to two in the morning. We all could use a break.

Abbie and Tyler yawned before agreeing meanwhile Chris and Zack hesitated as they waited for Kaitlyn’s response.

“Yeah, sure. This would be a good time for snacks anyway.” She said finally.

A minute passed between all of us before the rest of our suitemates suddenly began making up excuses; Zack ventured for a coffee run, Tyler and Abbie disappeared into their room - something about grabbing a couple fresh highlighters and Chris excused himself to the kitchen.

I knew they were all doing it for my benefit, even if they weren’t subtle about it. We sat in silence - me nibbling on my bottom lip and Kaitlyn hunched over her notebook before I glanced up at her.

Her eyes met mine at the same time, and it felt as if my heart was splitting in two. God, she was beautiful. I looked away, suddenly finding it hard to look at her. Hard to even breathe. I need a break.

I stood, stretching my stiff joints before tucking my binder once again under my arm. “I’ll be in my room.” I mumbled. I didn’t get far. Before I could take another step, I felt her hand encircle my wrist.

The simple touch sent a jolt, a spark inside my veins. Even the slightest touch caused a reaction. No, I hadn’t missed her any less. I inhaled sharply and pressed my eyes closed for a moment. I waited until the initial feeling faded long enough for me to turn to her with uncertain eyes. “Yeah, Kaitlyn?” I waited expectantly.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. 

I watched the indecision flicker inside her eyes. Then the fear before she looked away.

What’s she thinking? What’s she so afraid of? I would give anything to know.

Finally, I decided to put her out of her misery and broke the silence between us. “My room?” I inquired softly.

She nodded before slowly rising. She didn’t release my hand as we walked cross the hall, past the kitchen, and past the other rooms. She was the one leading me to my room with all the clinging familiarity a lover should.

I closed the door behind us once we got inside.

She plopped herself on my bed. She hugged her knees and an awkward, almost uncomfortable quietness filled the room.

I kept a safe distance away. I didn’t trust myself to be any closer. I pressed my back firmly against the door as I waited for her to speak.

She didn’t say anything. Not at first. I could almost see the wheels turning inside her head when I glanced back to her.  She looked around my room, “Everything’s the same.” She said it as if she couldn’t believe it.

Everything but us. I nodded once, wanting to get whatever this was over with. I know what my heart wanted, what it needed to hear – but did she know what she wanted?

“I’m sorry.”

Did she - 

My thoughts sputtered at the sound of her voice and my eyes swept back to hers questioningly.

Her voice faltered. “I’m so sorry. What happened between us at the night of my concert….” Her eyes looked up at me, desperate and afraid. “It was really because of me, not because of you.  Because I didn’t know how good I had it, how good it was with you.” She shuddered a deep breath. “I tried to push you away because I thought you were holding me back, when all this time you’re the reason why I could always keep it together.”

My heart lifted at the sound of her words. My hands shook as I moved from the door. Was this really happening? Were all my quiet pleas that I sent to the universe finally being answered?

“Do you think….” Her bottom lip trembled, “Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

Yes. 

The word was on my lips, like a desperation clawing to get out but I couldn’t do it. Not yet. The only thing I had ever wanted to be was hers. But knowing that I wanted to be hers had always meant embracing her unpredictability, embracing all the inexplicable joys our adventures brought us. Embracing the parts of her that even I wasn’t sure I could always quite understand.

I crossed the room to pull out my bracelet, my favorite bracelet. The only thing that had brought me constant luck inside my life, constant happiness. It never let me down the way people often did.

I sat beside her on the bed. Our arms were nearly touching as I showed it to her. “This is my charm bracelet – it brings me luck no matter what.” I touched the familiar insignias – the ice cream cone, the charm that had helped me through my English ap exam and eventually I brought her attention to the K. That was the most important one.

“What’s that one for?” Her voice was barely over a whisper as she pointed at it.

“It’s K for Kaitlyn.” A small smile touched my lips. “You’re the first friend I met in Hartfeld. And the first person I’ve ever fallen in love with,” I continued softly as my eyes searched hers, “And you’re the first person that means more to me than anyone else. Than anything else.” My voice hitched at the end. “Fighting with you hasn’t changed how I felt and there’s been a lot of times where I’ve glanced at it – touched it because of how much I missed you. How much I missed staring into your eyes, like I am right now - looking at you, really looking at you and waiting for your wonderful smile. It kept me going when I didn’t think anything else could.”

Her breath came out in a series of little gasps, and her eyes swam with tears. I could feel my own eyes, prickling at the sight, my own heart feeling as if it was sprinting out of my chest. “I love you so much. And I never meant to hurt you.” She whispered. I watched as her hand hesitantly reached up to brush my lips.

I couldn’t resist tasting her, and with our quiet admission of how much we loved each other I didn’t want to wait anymore. I closed the distance between us slowly, never breaking eye contact before I captured her lips. I could feel her soft sigh of elation, and her shoulders sagged with relief as I took time exploring her mouth.

I kissed her the way I’ve been dreaming about for the last few weeks – with an almost desperate edge as my tongue went past the barrier of her lips. And she kissed me back, kissed me with such urgency like she was afraid this was all a dream. I kept kissing her to remind her it isn’t. She’s real, I’m real and this was all real. My hands began to roam, relishing in finally having her inside my arms again, until I was leaning into her – pressing her firmly into my cotton sheets. Our lips found each other like a forgotten love that had finally been given the chance to rekindle. And the flame that had once resided inside my heart burned brightly before spreading to the rest of me. I felt it’s heat in every touch.

Eventually, I pulled away; feeling breathless. My body felt on fire with need, but my brain was the smarter part of me. The part of me that knew what she needed more than that right now. “I would love to continue this but as your girlfriend it’s my responsible to make sure you pass with flying colours.” I propped up one elbow as my other hand fastened my bracelet onto her wrist.

She pouted playfully before placing a kiss on my nose. “Fine – but I intend to finish what you started later.” She pulled me down again for one last lingering kiss. “I love you.” She muttered softly.

I leaned my forehead against hers. “I love you too Kaitlyn. My little trailblazer.”

-

#kaitlyn x mc #kaitlyn liao #kaitlyn fanfic #whew I did it #playchoices #pixelberry #playchoices fanfic #hope it's enjoyable #mc x kaitlyn #long post #zack #tyler #chris powell #abbie #the freshman #tf3 #its so long but i think it was all necessary #choices stories you play

[wendynerdwrites]

Recovered Jonsa Fic #16: Ya’Aburnee

Another fic repost!

The crypts seem warmer these days. In fact, they’re perhaps the warmest place in the castle now. At least, they are to Jon.

In his youngest days, he sought out cold and solitude to think and find comfort. But that changed when the two of them found one another again. It didn’t matter where they were. They could be lying naked next a roaring fire in the royal apartments. They could be huddled up in his war tent during one her surprise visits, a layer of canvas being all that lay between them and the roaring, icy winds outside. But when she was with him, things were warm, cozy, and clear. He could think better after having spent just a few precious moments with her after an absence.

Jon sighs as he descends the steps of the crypts, carrying his lantern past the various monuments of past Starks. The war. Gods. The first several times Sansa would steal away to the Wall and even beyond to see him, he’d scold her, beg her not to do it, not to risk her safety again. The third time, he even swore he’d not share her bed out of anger, hoping it would deter her. But he broke that vow of course. He’d been a fool, and desperate. Somehow, Sansa always seemed to show up when he was at the very end of his rope, at the brink of giving up. But she’d appear and things became clearer, he was reminded of what he was fighting for, and inspiration would come.

Most of his best ideas, battle plans, tactical maneuvers came to him either in the middle of the night or the morning after he lay with Sansa. Even his men picked up on this. It became a running joke among the army. The secrets to defeating the Others lay within the Queen in the North’s cunny.

The only time she didn’t come at a desperate point, she sent a letter to him, informing him that she would not be able to visit him for a long while, and bid him instead to journey back to Winterfell when he could. “I want you to meet your firstborn.”

It was all the inspiration he needed, really.

Jon gives a groan of relief as he reaches his destination in the crypts, bends his aching knees and sits upon the stone bench in front of the newest statue in the hall. Arya, bless her, had proposed the idea of installing it. It wasn’t customary, but his second-eldest had insisted. “So our Father can visit Mother for as long as he likes.”

A good thing, too. At three-and-seventy, Jon’s legs are not what they used to be. The wound in his leg that the wildlings gave him all those years ago began troubling him again around his fortieth year. His hips were good, but his knees ache easily. His left shoulder is often in agony. It’s why whenever he carries something--- at the moment, a writing board, parchment, quill, and ink--- it’s slung under his right arm.

He takes a few moments to adjust and wait for the strain on his joints to ease, then sets up his writing supplies. He looks up at the face of the marble statue. It did not depict his wife as he’d seen her last: grey-haired, with lines about her mouth, brows, and eyes. No, it showed Sansa at the height of her youth. Lyanna spared no expense in the commissioning of this monument, having the artist combined stone of different hues to match the burning auburn of her hair, the red of her lips. Even the eyes of the thing had gem studs of sapphire and onyx.

It was easily the most extravagant tomb in the crypts.

Not that she’d been particularly keen on an extravagant burial in life. The construction of her tomb began before her death, when Maester Torwyn tearfully informed her that despite the amputation, the growth which began on her breast had migrated to other parts they could not reach and she had no more than a year left.

Sansa, being Sansa, had responded by being the most composed in the room, and promptly began preparations. And, by preparations, preparations for a pseudo-abdication in Lyanna’s favor.

Lyanna had refused to let her mother abdicate fully, though she was more than ready to take on the responsibilities of queenship. “You should spend your last year without the burden of rule on your shoulders. And I am more than happy to assume that weight in full,” their brilliant, beautiful, resilient daughter informed her mother, “But if you are to die, I will not let you die as anything but a queen.”

Lyanna was Princess Regent for a year while the entire family devoted their matriarch’s final year in this world to making it the very best it could be. Jon and Sansa traveled, they hosted banquets and balls, they indulged themselves. Sansa didn’t involve herself in too many of the burial arrangements, allowing Jon and their children to take care of most of it. But when Lyanna informed Sansa of the lengths they were going to honor her, Sansa had protested about the expense.

“I don’t deserve a tomb any finer than Jon or Father,” she insisted. But this was one matter where her family did not let her have her way during that final year.

If anyone deserved a tomb like this, it was the queen who restored the North, House Stark, got it through the winter and wars, and revolutionized the structure of the kingdom. One of the best decisions Jon ever made was abdicating his rule in her favor. At the time, he’d done it out of a combination of guilt, his new knowledge regarding his origins, and the affection for her that eventually blossomed into the love they shared for fifty years. But under Sansa’s rule, House Stark and the North went from famine, poverty, and near-death to unprecedented prosperity. She is the reason her family can afford such a monument to her, and will likely be able to afford such things for generations to come.

He’d said as much. Jon can almost hear her now, replying that he’d done just as much, that he deserved just as much, if not more credit, for the North’s success as she did. “None of this would have been possible without you. As a queen, I’ve only ever been as great as my king.”

Jon wasn’t a king. He was prince consort. He’d insisted on that himself when they wed. Given Robb’s will and his title prior to abdication, he wanted no doubts placed on Sansa’s authority and position. But that didn’t stop Sansa from calling him her king in private. Though he’d certainly done his part in aiding her rule--- Jon had many accomplishments, before, during, and after the War for the Dawn, to be proud of--- Sansa overstated his contribution. She was the queen, and all he did for her, he did with her. And she did yet more. His greatest accomplishment, in his mind, was giving Sansa the support and inspiration she needed to discover her own greatness over the years. They’d done that for each other.

Not that the matter of whether he deserved just as fine a tomb as she was too great an issue. Sansa’s grave has an adjoining, half-finished chamber, specifically so that when the time comes, he shall lie beside her. She even went so far as to insist that, at the very least, when he died and his own statue was erected, that it would be constructed to hold the hand of hers.

Everyone agreed.

Jon looks at the partially-constructed tomb beside his wife’s resting place. He sighs again, dips a quill in the ink, and begins to write.

Sweetling,

I sit at the bench now, as I have now three-hundred-and-sixty-four times before. I look at the place set aside for me by your side, and there’s a selfish yearning there. The only thing that keeps me from willing myself to die is the thought of the pain it shall bring our family. I will not betray them by leaving them before I absolutely have to. But I want to, so badly. I miss you.

Robb’s son is still thriving. When he’s not draining his exhausted mother’s breasts, he’s asleep or howling like a beast. The lungs on that boy. I can already tell that a special bond is developing between Little Torrhen and his big sister. The moment Kitty gathers him into her chubby arms, he quiets. It’s adorable.

Alysanne and Brandon now come up to my waist. Alysanne wishes to leave the nursery room and get her own proper ladies’ chambers now. Not that she says so. She knows that Litsa is still too young to make it through the night without her big sister sleeping beside her. Alysanne is as considerate and thoughtful as she ever was. But I see it in her eyes. She’s growing up, and wants that acknowledged. And I expect she may finally broach the subject some time around Litsa’s fifth Name Day.

Gods, they’re all so beautiful. Litsa’s name is prophetic, since she looks just like you. She’s getting to the age, though, where she wants to be a “big girl” and is starting to rebel against her nickname. I’ve asked her to forgive me, but I cannot quite bring myself to call her “Sansa” just yet. But I appease her in other ways. If you told my young self that I’d spend many hours a day playing with dolls, I’d have laughed in your face. But I’m sure you’re laughing now, just as you laughed at me when Alysanne and Arya were young. Yes, I am once again spending many an hour sitting on a rug, dressing up and holding little wooden and porcelain people in dresses and acting out the stories of Jenny of Oldstones and Queen Rhaenyra. In fact, I’m doing it more than I did even when our daughters were girls.

Though I did resume many of my state duties after you left, I’m not performing as much as I used to. By choice, I assure you. I prefer to spend as much time as I can with the little ones. I don’t feel too guilty. We’ve trained our girl well. She doesn’t need me. I think she just pretends otherwise to humor me. She doesn’t need me to help with matters of state. I assume any need she or any of the others have for me is more emotional than political.

Not that I mind. My brain isn’t what it used to be. I mind that. Up until the very end, you gave me bursts of energy and inspiration. But with you gone, I don’t have them anymore. Coming down here, writing to you each day certainly helps, but it’s not the same.

Do you miss me, as I miss you? Or are you so busy, wherever you are, with Father and our brothers and your mother and Jeyne and Beth and all those we lost that you don’t have time to miss me the same way? If those Seven Southern Gods are right, you’re in one of those Heavens they speak of, and they say there is no unhappiness there. I don’t blame you for this. Especially since you can probably see and hear me in a way that I can’t see and hear you.

But I do hope you’re able to set aside a place for me beside you, wherever you are, for when we reunite, just as a place beside you has been set aside for me here.

What do you look like, wherever you are? You in your youth is how they depict you here in the crypt, of course. But I’m not sure that I hope that’s the case in the world beyond. Some aspects of your youth, I hope, are with you. That you have both of your breasts, that your ankles, back, and neck do not ail you anymore. And of course, you know how I always felt about that red hair of yours.

But I found your grey just as beautiful. Your lined faced just as lovely. I know you spent a good thirty years or so lamenting your “fading” beauty, but you were always as stunning to me, from the day we wed to our last night together.

Can you change how I shall see you when I join you? So I can see you as you were at any and all points in your life? Would you want me to do the same? Do you want me to greet you in the next life looking as I do now--- stooped, greying, balding, wrinkly--- or as I was in my prime?

What do you want me to say, when we meet each other again?

I miss you so much, Sansa. I have these letters. I have the children and grandchildren, and I see so much of you in them. But there’s no replacing you.

Sometimes I’m upset with you, Sansa, especially late at night, when I’m truly alone, and the cold envelopes me. When you made that request of me. Perhaps if you’d not done it, or not done it in the godswood, you’d be here now. I’m not a superstitious, even a pious man, but these days I wonder. You were so considerate most of your life, Sansa, but this was perhaps the most selfish thing you ever did. Did it ever occur to you that living without you would be as painful for me as it would be for you?

I don’t think about that day as often as one would expect, despite the significance of what happened that day in the godswood. Despite the joy I felt then, I think the reality of all that was said only really hit me the morning after, when I knew for sure that it wasn’t a dream, that you would really be mine. I remember that day more vividly, more often. I remember how proud I was to lead you on my arm through the Great Hall, the frightening issue of telling our siblings having been accomplished the prior evening. How excited I was for us to announce our joy to the court. The first day you were mine, officially, eternally, publicly, and I knew no one could take you from me or lay claim to you.

I didn’t consider the implications of the other thing you said. That little Valyrian request and all the things that making that promise to you meant. I wanted you so, so badly. And I never thought it would come to be, that I’d keep that promise. Or that you expected me to, that it was anything more than a passionate endearment on your part. We were fighting a war, after all. I was on the front lines. The only times I feared that it might happen back then was when you made your little visits. And you just had to whisper it to me beneath the furs. “Ya’aburnee”, “Ya’aburnee.”

With all that you did just to survive, you were ready to die if it meant not living without me.

So much love, so much beauty, but so much pain in that strange, foreign little phrase.

There were times it made me feel like I ruled the world. Gods, Sansa. No one, not one person had ever expressed such a thing to me. That I was just so needed, so wanted, so valued, so loved. Whenever I was needed, it was for whatever practical use I had for others. I was needed as a ready blade, a willing laborer, a spy, a leader for the army, sure. I was needed as countless other men were needed. I was needed as a political pawn to solidify the powers of others, as a supplier, as a defender.

At home, as much as you, Robb, Arya, Father, Bran, and Rickon loved me, I was far from needed. I was in many ways unwanted, and not just by your mother. If I were lost, surely you all would mourn, but you didn’t need me. It’s why it was so easy for me to join the Watch. As much as you loved me, none of you needed me. Not even Arya.

That I was one of many, needed thanks to a lack of options and men, but still disposable and unimportant ultimately, even as I was groomed for leadership, was impressed upon me. Even when I was Lord Commander, I was murdered and replaced.

As great a team as we were together even before we confessed our feelings to each other, I wasn’t sure then that you needed me. As often as you decried yourself as stupid and weak in those days, you were truly dazzling. It was bewildering for me to witness your own blindness in regards to all that you were. And as much as I did to try and build you up, I was sure that if I were lost, you’d find another to help you. You were the indispensable one, as far as I was concerned. Countless people needed you, to lead, to inspire, to save. Not me, despite what any prophecy might have implied.

But that day, in the godswood… “Of course I’ll marry you,” you’d said, snowflakes melting on your soft lips. “Under one condition.”

I remember expecting your condition to be of the same political precision you always conducted. You wanted me to understand that I’d be your prince consort, not a king. That I’d lost a crown for good the day I handed it to you. Or I expected that you’d ask that I not march to the front lines and stay behind, commanding the armies from the safety of Winterfell’s walls. That was the only condition I feared.

But still I asked, “What?”

“Ya’aburnee,” you replied. And, not having taken up an education in Valyrian dialects as you had, I of course had to ask for clarification.

“Bury me. Outlive me. So I never have to live without you.”

There was a part of me that wondered if this was your way of saying that you wouldn’t marry me if I returned to the battlefield, so I hesitated. And you reassured me.

And I never felt so loved, so needed, so ready to take on the world. You needed me, couldn’t fathom living without me. Me, as I was. Not as another man, who was willing to stay behind as armies fought for him, commanding from safety and comfort as other men were slaughtered on the field. You couldn’t ask me to do that, because you knew who I was, understood who I was, accepted it. Accepted me, and needed me.

Loved me as I’d never been loved before.

And somehow, whenever I was in the middle of the fray and ready to give up, sure we would all perish, wondering what the point was of continuing to try, you’d suddenly appear. It didn’t matter how many times I railed at you for endangering yourself. When I reached my lowest point, I’d return to my tent to find you there, reminding me not only of all I had to fight for, but all I had to live for. Whispering to me beneath the furs as I moved within you, “I love you. Ya’burnee. I love you. Ya’Aburnee.”

You never stopped saying it. Even the letter you sent, telling me that Alysanne was coming. “I love you. Ya’Aburnee.”

It’s not fair. You were younger, and healthier. Until that bloody, leeching canker appeared.

How could you ever be sure that you could not live without me, Sansa? I never thought I could, yet I am. And I don’t much care for it. And I’m not sure I can do it for much longer. The rest of the family is the only thing keeping me here, but it’s not complete without you. You’ve never met little Torrhen. And I fear Cat, Litsa, Neddie, and Jonny are too young to remember you when they get older. It anything, that makes me even more eager to leave. It doesn’t seem right for me to live longer enough to be remembered when you haven’t.

I need to stop with self-pity. It was a nasty habit that only you managed to completely break me of. But you’re gone now, Sansa. And as much as I want to do you proud, I need to be with you even more.

I… I need you more than they need me.

I’m glad you made sure that a tomb next to yours was started. I suppose you weren’t entirely selfish. Sure, you left me, but you started the hole, the resting place for me beside you. Ya’aburnee. Or something. I never did manage to master Valyrian, High or otherwise.

We bury each other.

This is the last letter to you, Sansa. I think I am ready to go. Everything else, I’ll say in person.

I love you, Ya’aburnee,

Jon.

Jon Stark Targaryen, Prince of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Prince Consort of the Three Realms of Winter, Hero of the Dawn, former King of the Three Realms of Winter, former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Lord Consort of Winterfell, Hand of the Queen, Council Advisor, Lord General of the Winter Armies, Husband and Consort to Sansa of House Stark, First of Her Name, Queen of the Three Realms of Winter, Lady of Winterfell, and Protector of the Realm, Father to Queen Alysanne I of the Three Realms of Winter, Prince Brandon of Winterfell, and Princess Arya of Winterfell and grandfather to the successive issue, died on the Day of the FIfth month, Year 356 after Aegon’s Landing, the night of the one year anniversary of his wife’s death.

Every day from her passing to his, even on the day of his death, Prince Jon wrote Queen Sansa letters, depositing them in a small hole built into the wall of tomb for that use. He was buried a week later beside his beloved wife, a statue of him at the height of his legendary military victories, erected atop his grave, joining hands with his wife’s monument per the instructions of their will. Though entry to the famous Winterfell crypts have been closed to the general public since their creation, the painting of their tomb by their great-great-great grandson, Prince Jon ‘the Dreamer’ of Winterfell, has gone down in history as one of the most romantic and well-beloved historical pieces of art in the North and all of Westeros, with prints and copies of the painting a popular, mass-produced piece. The letters which Prince Jon wrote to his wife were excavated from her grave a century later (and returned and preserved within their tomb shortly after once they were copied) and, along with the rest of the royal couple correspondence, have been published and become timelessly popular reading among each generation in the Three Realms and Beyond over the seven centuries since the royal couple’s death.

The romantic phrase of ‘Ya’Aburnee’, originally only a popular endearment in Eastern countries of native Valyrian speakers, has become a widespread expression of love within Westeros thanks to Sansa and Jon, with the phrase becoming a customary addition to wedding vows all over the world.

#Jonsa #Jon x Sansa #Jon Snow #Sansa Stark #fic repost project #long post

[ficdirectory]

The Fosters: Our Thoughts on Episode 4x19 “Who Knows”

It’s time for another twin recap of The Fosters, featuring me (not in italics) on general plot and adoption related things and @tarajean621​ (in italics) on Jesus and brain injury representation.

Who Is This?  Oh no one, Callie.  Just Russell, Diamond’s pimp…

What Was This Letter Doing in Your Pocket?  Nothing!  You know, Jesus just was telling Brandon what a good brother he was, so Brandon reciprocated and Jesus thought better of frisking him…  (Also, it’s so horrifying that now, Brandon, Grandma, Mariana and Moms all know about Emma’s abortion, but Jesus still does not…)

Are You Gonna Tell Jesus?/I Think...That’s Our Choice?/I Think So:  I hate that Jesus is being left out of this discussion, but what else is new?

That’s My Department.  What Should I Look For?/I Would Say a Hardwood Tree, Right?/Yeah, Like an Oak or a Walnut: So, I love that this project is a thing.  But I hate that it is still Jesus’s fake senior project.  I am glad that we can still hear that aphasia impacts Jesus’s speech.  (I also noticed his prism glasses in his hand - not being worn despite one of the moms saying that he would have to wear them for a bit longer.  And while some disabled people do not need or use their glasses/braces/crutches/canes/wheelchairs 24/7, it seems that in this episode, the glasses and cane are nothing but a visual reminder for the audience.  They exist as little more than set dressing.)

Also, we get to see how Gabe interacts with Jesus post-injury for the first time.  And while Jesus stumbling over words seems to make Gabe momentarily uncomfortable, he is able to keep the conversation going and not make it a huge deal.

Isabella, This Is Gabe/You’ve Never Met Her?  How heartbreaking, seeing Jesus and Mariana’s reaction to Ana and Gabe with Isabella.  And hearing Ana talk about dropping her off at daycare when the twins know how they were treated by her as babies?  It’s all in their eyes as they look at each other.  Mariana can’t even hang around after that intro.

Have You Gotten Any Help From a Doctor?/They Put You on Pills...Screw You Up More/Yeah, I See That:  Totally a valid choice, Gabe.  Not ideal for Jesus to hear, though.

Makeunder:  Callie is not having these people tell her what to do with her hair, her body, her face.

If They Find Out How You Got That Toothbrush/I Found It In His Garbage Bin on the Street:  That’s kind of like saying you broke into his house, but different, Callie...

Does It Ever Make You Feel Bad?  Seeing Ana With Isabella?  How Good of a Mom She is to Her?/No, I Don’t Think About It:  I’m so glad that Mariana feels like she can talk to Jesus about these feelings, and contrary to what Jesus says here, his face tells a whole different story.  It has since they saw Gabe, Ana and Isabella together...seems like, maybe he can’t think about it, or it will hurt too much.

Do You Remember Ana Leaving Us Alone in Our Crib When We Were Babies?  For a Whole Day or More?/Yeah...I Had a Dream About It.  We Were in Our Crib and You Were Crying.  I Was Trying to Take Care of You:  How devastating.  As much as this is so horrible for both of them I am so glad they have each other to talk to about it with.  That they believe each other.  They know what happened because they both remember it.  

She Never Should Have Had Us/Is That What You Would Have Done?  If You Were Gabe - Would You Tell Ana to Get An Abortion?/No.  I Would’ve Been a Dad: It struck me last night how Noah’s Jesus really is a completely different character than the first Jesus.  Because in season one, he was all about getting that morning after pill for Lexi.  Maybe that’s because now the writers can portray Jesus the way they always intended to.  I’m not really sure.  But I do really find this statement by Jesus in this scene to fit with the way he is now.  Very tender, quiet, and driven to do what’s right.  Especially after having that conversation with Gabe in season 3 about how Gabe did tell Ana to abort the twins when she was pregnant, and how terribly that sat with Jesus.

So, We Let Her Off The Hook?/They Are Not Us and It Does Us No Good to Get Mad at Them:  This is such a twin thing.  Mariana is so upset at Ana abandoning them (as she should be.  They deserved to be taken care of.)  And Jesus is on the other end of the spectrum where it seems he’s trying to put distance between himself and that time because he knows it can’t be changed.

Twins do tend to try to balance each other out, I’ve found.

Nobody Ever Gave Me Nothin’ for It.  Now I Got the Power:  This reminds me of Jack in season 3, telling Jude and Callie that he had the power after those boys broke his arm.  :(  It seems like Diamond almost HAS to rationalize this as being okay, because it likely feels like her only option.  

It Really Wasn’t His Choice/True.  But We’re Adopted, So Maybe You Could Have Considered That:  I adored this conversation between Emma and Mariana.  I love the honesty.  How Mariana didn’t hesitate to tell Emma how Jesus felt about it but also acknowledged that it wasn’t his choice.  It also felt really accurate that she would talk about how she and Jesus are adopted and how that’s also a valid option.

You Sure You Should Be Lifting Stuff?/Yeah, I’m Fine.  It’s Good for Me to Move Around:  The thing about brain injuries and disability in general is that you’re always contending with your limitations.  And those limitations can shift and change day to day, depending on any number of things.  With the visual disturbance plotline pretty much gone, it follows that Jesus probably does feel markedly better than he has.    

What Are We Doing?/We’re Moving My Stuff In/Why?/Should I Call Your Mom?  And this is why it is not advised to go off medication without a doctor’s knowledge and supervision.  Yes, Gabe, please do call Lena.  (Also, notice Jesus’s speech being impacted by not feeling well.) 

I Can’t Have Sex When I Take My Meds/Well Maybe That’s Okay?  For Now?  Until You Get Off Them?  To recap: Felbamate is a last-resort anti-convulsant with dangerous side effects.  Impotence is not one of said side effects.  Also?  I cannot find any research that supports the arbitrary 5-years-on-anti-convulsants thing.   

My House Could Use Some Pretty Flowers:  Callie, it’s Russell!  Take the girls and run away!

I Folded Your Laundry for You...You’re Welcome?  Why are you doing chores while Jude is sitting on his butt playing video games, Mariana?

They’re Trying to Turn Anchor Beach Into a Private School!...You Can Still Plead the Fifth:  Hahaha!  I love how Jude came in and side-eyed Mariana for instantly telling Mama about Anchor Beach.  (Good call, by the way, Mari, Mama needs to know.)

I Think Diamond Took Something Out of the Trash.  There Was This Guy Hanging Around and I Think He Left Something for Her:  Ooh, I still love seeing Daphne in charge but Callie snooping around makes me nervous - her investigating always leads to so much terribleness…

Call Me on It and Delete the History...Then Put It Back...and Wipe Your Fingerprints Off Of It:  I know it’s not supposed to be funny but I love Daphne like buffing the phone with her shirt.  

After Everything Ana Put You and Jesus Through!/At Least She Didn’t Get Rid Of Us!  God, twist the knife a little more, Brandon!  You can’t bring up how badly Mariana and Jesus were neglected as babies as justification for Emma’s abortion.  How do you think that makes Mariana feel?  Oh right, you’re not thinking of HER feelings…

Jesus, Can I Talk to You for a Sec?  When Did You Stop Taking Your Anti-Seizure Meds?  I’m frustrated that this conversation is off-page.  

If They Want Me to Say That I Think Kyle Killed Martha Johnson, I Need to See Him Again:  Sounds totally legit that Moms will let Callie and Brandon drive eight and a half hours to a high security prison.  So your 17 year old daughter can visit an inmate there.  Sounds totally safe.

We Are Going to Allow You to Drive With Callie to Folsom:  We, a police officer and an assistant principal are allowing our 18 year old son and 17 year old daughter to DRIVE TO FOLSOM PRISON TOGETHER.  What is happening right now?

Mouth Open.  Tongue Up/How Long Are You Gonna Make Me Do This?/Until I Can Trust That You’ll Take Them...So Probably Forever:  Okay, so apparently the off-page conversation did not go so well.  While I understand the importance of taking the medication until a doctor’s appointment can be scheduled, forcing your kid to take it “forever” despite the (fake) side effects?  Not okay.  Understandable if there are no other options, but it appears that Lena is not interested in looking into those options.  

And I can’t help but entertain the thought that perhaps in Lena’s mind, the impotence might be a blessing in disguise - a way of controlling Jesus?  Which is such a gross thought, but the truth is that many disabled girls and women undergo forced sterilization as a matter of convenience even today.  Is keeping Jesus on Felbamate despite his objections due to a convenient “side effect” so different? 

Your Brain’s Not Right/MY Brain’s Not Right?!  You’re So Depressed, You Got Evicted!  Maybe YOU Should Take YOUR Meds!  Oh my.  I know this seems most unfair, Jesus.  And it is.  

I Wanna Be Here For You, Jesus/No You Don’t.  You Almost Left Town Without Telling Us.  The Only Reason You’re Here Right Now Is So You Have a Place to Live:  Ouch, but Jesus speaks the truth.

I Had a Job Lined Up in Tahoe/Maybe You Should Go!  I’m Sure It’s Still Available!/We’ll Talk About This Later: I have to say, as far as adults go, Gabe is actually doing quite well avoiding the whole ableism thing so far.  Just the fact that he does not dismiss Jesus’s anger as a “TBI outburst,” and lets him know that they will talk later is huge in light of how the family has been treating him in past episodes.  

I Don’t Wanna Live Like This/Don’t Say That.  You’re Gonna Get Better:  There definitely is such an adjustment to life with a brain injury - and depression is often a part of that.  And while I appreciate that Brandon is trying to make Jesus feel better, telling him that he will “get better” is harmful in the long run.  While Jesus will definitely make improvements, he will not return to who he was pre-injury.  The promise of this is false hope.  (I mean, this is TV, so a “miraculous recovery” might still happen.  But in real life?  Please avoid the phrase.  “You’re going to improve, but I respect your limitations.” holds the same sentiment.  And it’s okay to be different post-injury.  Life happens.  We evolve.

You Can Talk to Your Doctor.  They Can Put You on Something Else.  Or Give You Something/What?  Like Viagra?  Like I’m an Old Man?  Why is Brandon, of all people, having this conversation with Jesus?  This is a conversation Lena should have had with him when she found out he was not taking his medication.

What About Emma?  Everybody Knows She’s Not With Me For My Mind.  Our Thing, It’s Physical/Jesus, There’s Nothing Wrong With Your Mind.  You Have a TBI - But You’re Funny, Smart and a Really Good Guy.  She Has to Love You for All That:  Brandon, you and I have a love-hate relationship.  And lets be real, it’s mostly hate.  But this?  This was the perfect thing to say.  “There is nothing wrong with your mind.  You have a TBI.”  Please get this engraved on a plaque and place it in the kitchen for all to see.

Are You Sure I’m Gonna Get Better?/I’m Sure:  :/

I Wonder Where This Money Is Coming From?/Is That...That’s Craig Stratos.  Nick’s Dad.  Why Would He Wanna Bankroll This?  Do You Think This Is Personal?  Well, that was unexpected…

Oh My God, Kyle.  Did You Kill Her/What If I Did?  This scene.  Adam Irigoyen’s complete transformation as Kyle is just amazing and chilling.

You Used Me/YOU Used ME/For What?/For a Cause.  To Feel Good About Yourself:  I love this so much.  I love that Kyle is knowledgeable.  I love that he knew, from the start, that he was also being used.  I hate that feeling.  While I obviously don’t condone murder or theft, I do like the reveal that Kyle was aware the entire time of the bigger picture.  That he isn’t just the sweet ‘special needs’ boy that Callie perceived him to be.  He is fully aware and he always has been.  This scene was easily my favorite part of the episode.  What amazing acting.  What a stunning reveal.

I Never Did That/Jesus Remembers, Too/I Don’t See How You Could Remember Something Like That When You Were Babies/We Remember Because We Were Scared and Hungry and Our Diapers Were Full.  We Were Covered In Our Own--:  And runner up for my favorite scene is this one with Mariana and Ana in therapy.  I was just thinking how much I hoped we would see some kind of through-line with this.  I’ve  been wondering how Mari’s coping with her PTSD.

The tweets in Mariana’s secret Twitter account were revealing in that sense because we get to see that she’s still scared.  She’s still dealing with things, and obviously she’s been trying to process this memory of her and Jesus as babies for several weeks.  

I like that this kind of thing was included because it is fairly common from what I’ve read that kids who’ve known severe abuse or neglect do have memories from the time they’re babies of their experiences of those things.  And they’re doubly difficult to process because as babies, Jesus and Mariana were preverbal.  They didn’t have the vocabulary to articulate how they were feeling.  Which is why it’s so good that Mariana’s able to start working it through now, and figuring out how it did make her feel.

Is It Possible, Ana, That You Don’t Remember If You Were Using Drugs?/I Didn’t Come Here to Be Judged or Ambushed by Memories That She Dreamt Up.  I’m Not Doing This:  I also really loved the realism in Ana’s reaction.  It feels so viscerally true that she, as a mom, and especially with a baby now, to be super defensive and dismissive of the idea that she did neglect Mariana and Jesus so thoroughly.  And it is complicated by the fact that she was using at the time so she very well might have zero memories of things she did and/or times that she left them alone.  

I feel so much for Mariana, though, and I do hope that her therapist helps her process what happened in the office, so that she can start to realize Ana’s reaction is about Ana and it doesn’t make Mariana and Jesus’s memories of what happened any less valid.

Before Your Daughter Gets on the Stand With That Story.  Check That Out:  Yeah, Stef, Callie’s story of getting Doug Harvey’s toothbrush out of the trash isn’t really gonna stand up in court when Gray has video evidence of her in his house taking it from there.

We Can Still Do Stuff, You Know, For You?/Hell Yeah:  I’m glad Jesus and Emma are still working on their relationship and trying to figure things out.  (Check out the cane standing next to his bed.)

Did You Hear About Anchor Beach?  There’s a Rumor They’re Turning It Into a Private School/ Where Did You Hear That?/Some Anonymous Twitter Account.  I have a hard time believing that Emma would not check out the anonymous Twitter before sharing it with Jesus.  The very first thing Jesus did was check out the handle and the tweets.  And now, he knows.  Finally.  Oh crap.

For more: Fosters Recaps

#the fosters #4x19 #who knows #jesus and mariana #jesus adams foster #tbi #brain injury #aphasia #ableism

[itsiotrecords-blog]

http://ift.tt/2v4myaM

To be fair, not every celebrity on this list ended up choosing their final resting place, but in spite of that, they are, to be sure, strange and/or incredible places all the same. Below is a diverse list of TV writers, novelists, actors, martial artists, musicians, fathers of musicians, royalty, journalists, businesswomen, and the creator of likely the biggest entertainment company in the world, if not at least the best known entertainment company in the world. Each of these men and women— and one special dog— have either been made the lady of the lake, been given a gigantic new prescription for their glasses, stolen a man’s heart… literally, snorted or been smoked, traveled to outer space (or at the very least been blasted across the desert), and have appeared dead on screen… not to say they simply looked dead on screen, but the last anyone saw of them, they were on screen, and actually dead. So here are fifteen weird places celebrities have found themselves in death.

#1 The Game Of Death True, Bruce Lee‘s actual final resting place is in Seattle’s Lakeview Cemetery, where thousands of people go to visit him and his son, Brandon Lee (buried alongside his father), but there is a creepier, much more exploitative resting place of sorts for this martial arts master. Dying, shortly before the famed Enter The Dragon hit the box office, Bruce Lee appeared in several other films, post-mortem. Surely this is not an unusual occurrence, with partially shot films continuing production with stunt doubles, or just cutting with the footage they have, like in Brandon Lee’s final film The Crow, but there is something more sinister behind Bruce Lee’s final shots as a film star. The Game of Death, famous for the yellow jumpsuit that Uma Thurman similarly wears in Kill Bill, and for the epic fight between Lee and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, got away with using actual shots of Lee’s corpse, from funeral footage, being cut into the film. So if one is ever looking for Bruce’s final film resting place, one need only watch Game of Death.

#2 The Field Where Music Died Buried in the Lubbock Cemetery in Texas, one might not know of Buddy Holly’s final resting place for all of the commotion over the Clear Lake, Iowa memorial, looking over the site of the infamous crash that killed Ritchie Valens, Big Bopper, and Buddy Holly, on February 3, 1959— the day the music died. Along the sorrowful site, which includes an engraved guitar and record memorial, there is a gigantic tribute to Buddy Holly by way of his signature glasses. If one didn’t know any better, one might think that Buddy Holly wasn’t buried elsewhere at all, but left no remains in the crash and therefore had erected an enormous structure to remind people of the significance of his poor eyesight. Smack dab in the middle of farmer’s fields, one has to wonder if this symbol of tragedy is not taking up valuable real estate for the continued growth of that “American Dream” so readily believed in circa 1959.

#3 Princess Diana’s Monumental Memorial Park Buried in an Althorp estate in Northamptonshire, Princess Diana has become the mythical Lady of the Lake. Her resting place is on an island in Round Oval Lake, in a gigantic park (that the general public is allowed to visit one day out of every year), dedicated to the, for some reason, still adored face of the royal family circa the nineteen nineties. It’s not all that weird to have a resting place in a park, but in a park that people can visit only once every year; an enormous park, dedicated solely to her, with its own lake, riddled with ducks and four, specially placed black swans, topped off with an almost palace-like Grecian structure overlooking the island resting place from the mainland of the park… If not weird, it is at least a bit overzealous, to understate the enormity of the memorial. The royal family has not had any great significance since before the Great War, and Diana of all, was loathed by the majority of the royal family when she married into it anyway. Seems a bit weird.

#4 George Harrison Takes A Dip In The Ganges  Once described as “liquid love of life”, the Ganges is a supposedly mystical river in India where good karma flows through the bodies of those who bathe in its waters; a gift from the almighty, graced upon believers and skeptics alike. Never quite escaping the Hare Krishna phase of the Beatles’ legacy, like the rest of his band mates had after the LSD wore off, George Harrison, after being cremated by the friendly folks at Hollywood Forever (facilitators of perhaps the most frequently visited cemetery in the world), was taken to the sacred river, and cast about its waters, as well as at Allahabad, where the Ganges and two other holy rivers converge. The Hindu belief is that spreading one’s ashes about holy waters aids in the process of releasing the soul from one’s body, and escaping reincarnation, to make the final journey to Heaven. Who knows where Harrison is now, besides mingled with the ashes of many others, but My Sweet Lord, he did go peacefully.

#5 Blasted Across The Desert One of the most famous funerals of the twenty first century, to be sure, after taking care of the planning, taking interviews about how his funeral would be carried out and how his remains would be disposed of, and then finally setting the phone down after chatting with his wife and blowing his brains out with a .45, while she was still on the line, Hunter S. Thompson ended his life, but not the significance of it. Shortly after his death, actor and good friend of Thompson’s, Johnny Depp set out to foot the bill for the great tower, atop which sat a double-thumbed fist, holding onto a button of peyote, and through which a cannon would fire the famed journalist’s ashes. With a fabulous fireworks display of red, white, and blue, Hunter’s remains went out the very same way he did: with a bang! The unfortunate missing part of the above video is the moment where, as the cloud of smoke and ash billows over the cheering crowd, one of the onlookers tells his friends to “breathe deep… breathe deep!”; so badly did he want Thompson to be a part of them.

#6 You Know I Snorted My Father, Right? Alright, so this isn’t a celebrity resting place by any direct means, in that Keith Richards has not yet, however surprisingly, been found dead. That being said, this is still the case of a celebrity resting place because while his father was no celebrity, Keith certainly is, and he is now, himself, at least partially, the resting place of his father. “I opened my dad’s ashes and some of them blew out over the table, just because of the suction of the lid, you know what I mean? I looked at my dad’s ashes down there and— what am I gonna do? ‘Do I desecrate them with a dustbin and broom?’ So I wet me finger and I shoved a little bit of Dad up me hooter.” That’s right! Keith Richards snorted his father with, upon further elaboration in an interview, a bit of cocaine because let’s be honest, if you’re already a drug fiend, and you’re already putting your father up there, you may as well get a fix at the same time. Not having snorted the entirety of his father’s ashes, Richards put the rest “round an oak tree, which is coming up a treat.” So a celebrity resting place in a sense, Keith Richards continues to boggle minds.

#7 Just About As Ugly As Ichabod Crane… Making it all the way to the ripe old age of eighty seven (well past ripe in her case), Leona Helmsley was once as big a mogul in the business world as Donald Trump, if not even bigger. Instead of bankrupting herself so many times as Trump, she was caught evading taxes, since “Only the little people pay taxes” according to her view of the world. This billionaire, dubbed “The Queen of Mean” for her incredibly bitchy persona, Helmsley only served twenty one months of her sixteen year sentence, paid her seven million dollars in fines, and had her employees do her pot-prison community service for her. Amazingly not dying of a heart attack at her sentencing in trial, she did eventually suffer from heart failure, leaving twelve million to her dog, and nothing for her grandchildren. Where would such a monster end up? Well, many likely wishing her headless, and absolutely more hideous to look at than Ichabod Crane, Helmsley was laid to rest in Sleepy Hollow, in a 1.4 million dollar mausoleum. It’s doubtful that Washington Irving ever expected such a hideous creature to truly come to the little township North of New York City.

#8 In The Vault, Like So Many Classics What’s weird about this one, is how very not weird it is. The lavish, luxurious Marilyn Monroe, known the world over by men and women alike (and known very well by a number of famous men), after all of her flash and pizzazz, was laid to rest in the Westwood Memorial Park Cemetery, and while she is accompanied by some greats like Dean Martin, Peter Falk, and Frank Zappa, it does seem like a less than lavish way to go, being stuck in a wall of vaults, surrounded by other corpses of former glory. That being said, Monroe’s presence along the crypt wall has certainly raised the price of real estate there, causing a bidding war that jacked the price of the vault above her to a staggering 4.6 million dollars. Surely many wanted to be on top of Marilyn in her time, but in death it seems a steep price to pay for such an honour. All the same, visitors to the site adorn the vault with well-plied, lipstick kisses, which makes one wonder… were there that many women who really loved her, or are there that many men willing to make a last impression?

#9 Shelley & Her Lover’s Heart It’s not so much the resting place here, as it is what is in the resting place. Famed author Mary Shelley (author of Frankenstein), was buried in St. Peter’s Church in Bournemouth, U.K., way back in 1851. Nothing weird about that. What is weird, however, is what Mary took with her when she died. Having drowned many years before Mary’s death, the famed poet Percy Shelley was cremated… all but his heart turned to ash. Unscathed (speculating calcification from TB saving it from the flames), the heart was turned to Mary, who kept it with her in a silk shroud. Unfortunately here is where the story deviates, depending on who is telling it, but the story once went that, wrapped in paper, Percy’s heart was placed in the casket with Mary Shelley. Unfortunately this incredibly romantic story turns out to be a poetic fantasy as the poet’s heart was interred with his son’s body, wrapped in the pages of Adonais (one of Percy’s last poems) in the family vault. So in a sense, his heart was reunited with his wife, but not until some time after her death.

#10 Sewn Into A Pillow After an incredible number of years, toting around a jar of ecstasy pills, snorting cocaine off any surface possible, and indulging in a big breakfast of anti-depressants, it’s no wonder that Michael Hutchence of INXS fame was found dead, hanging behind the main door of his hotel room. Whether auto-erotic or not, Hutchence died of asphyxiation, and thus ended an incredible career of excess. After very publicly and dramatically accusing ex-husband Bob Geldof of murdering Hutchence, and declaring that she would dye her prospective wedding dress black for Michael’s funeral, love Paula Yates attempted suicide, hooked up with a heroine addict in rehab, then fought for the ashes of Hutchence. Split between three urns: one for his mother and father respectively, and one for Paula, Hutchence was morbidly carried around everywhere that Yates went, until she finally sewed his ashes into a Gucci pillow of hers, so that she could still sleep with him. And who knows: maybe some of the prozac, booze, cocaine, and prescription meds are still in the ashes to help comfort her. As for the rest of poor Hutchence, he remains in his mother’s home, and in the ocean blue in the Sydney harbour in Australia.

#11 To Infinity And Beyond Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry, as well as, eventually, actor James Doohan (Scotty), had the journey of a lifetime, after their deaths, continuing as they did in their work lives: among the stars. Celestis, a company that capitalizes on the grieving families of the deceased, offers the chance for the dead to “experience” space travel. Of course services are given on a sliding scale starting from “missions” to space that then return to Earth ($1,295), to Earth orbitals ($4,995), to Lunar orbitals ($12,500), and finally journeys to deep space ($12,500). Again, these prices are all “starting from”, so the more money you pay, the more fun your loved one’s ashes will likely have in space. Regardless of the ridiculously priced comfort people pay for in terms of grieving, there is certainly no better way for the likes of Roddenberry (his wife also) and Doohan to go than out into deep space, where they spent so much of their lives pretending to be. Though one might wonder what becomes of all of this space junk (especially to those in orbit), since what goes up, must eventually come down, as society has learned one too many times with satellites, and the like.

#12 There’s No Place Like Hollywood… The lovable Terry (Toto), was a Cairn terrier, with a not-so-original name, likely based simply on her breed. That’s right, HER breed. Born at the outset of World War II, and dying shortly after its end in 1945, Terry had performed in nearly a dozen movies with Shirley Temple, Spencer Tracy and, of course, the tragic Judy Garland. After her death, Terry was buried behind owner Carl Spitz’s property, where a number of other four-legged stars were laid to rest (Spitz being one of the forerunners for animal training in Hollywood). During the expansion of the Ventura Freeway, the property was purchased, and the burial grounds were destroyed, and one can only hope that the pet cemetery haunts motorists to this day on the massive freeway. Regardless of the fact that Terry’s remains were disturbed, and covered over with concrete, she remains immortalized as her most famous, male persona with an erected monument to Toto in the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

#13 Give Me To The Highest Bidder Novelist, screenwriter, playwright, and actor Truman Capote, one of America’s most celebrated (especially for the renowned Breakfast At Tiffany’s), is perhaps one of the first deceased celebrities to be able to claim (if he were alive) to have had his remains sold off. Yup, Capote, after his death, was given to best friend Joanne Carson (Johnny Carson‘s ex-wife). Carson died only last year, and plenty of items went up for auction, including the remains of Truman Capote, packed neatly away in a beautifully carved Japanese box. Not wanting to merely sit on the shelf in death, it seems Capote will be getting his wishes, as the successful bidder for his ashes intends to travel with him, for sure. After his cremation in 1984, Truman was valued at $6000, but just last year was sold at auction for $45,000! A number of other Capote items went on the block as well ranging from clothing, to ice skates, and even prescription bottles that Carson had for some reason, that left the auction for $5000. Always living large, it seems that Truman Capote is still worth quite a bit to people, and will not find some new home in the arms of an anonymous bidder.

#14 Tupac Got Smoked… Literally Tupac‘s remains went just as Tupac himself did: he was smoked. Granted, when Tupac died it was because he was smoked by bullets in a drive-by shooting, but this grandiose hip-hop artist, riding with Death Row Records run by the absolutely, certifiably insane Suge Knight, was hit four times: twice in the chest, once in the arm, and once in the thigh, as he stood out the sunroof of the car he was in. The crime still remains unsolved, and while Notorious B.I.G. was accused of being involved in the shooting, he denied everything, swore he was in the studio recording that night, and was himself, a year later, shot and killed in a drive-by shooting. Dealing with the thug life, as well as the drug life, it’s no wonder that Tupac Shakur, upon being cremated, was partially divvied up among friends, rolled up with some primo ganja, and smoked. Made ever closer to his friends, Tupac went out in both the thug life and the drug life, smoked both ways in the end.

#15 A New Meaning To Disney’s Frozen Resting in the Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery, it is indeed very sad to learn that the claim that Walt Disney was cryogenically frozen is in fact false. How perfect would that have been? That being said, the reason that there are so many claims about Walt being frozen is because of the claims of Bob Nelson, president of the California Cryogenics Society. Before Disney died, rather quickly, of lung cancer, it is claimed that he was in discussion with Nelson about wanting to be preserved until such a time that he might be cured, and then continue to live on (in spite of how shady the workings of cryonics are, even to this date, never mind how they were in 1966). Realistically, Walt Disney Sr. was cremated, and not frozen, no matter how perfect that would have been for Disney today, given all of the hype, even still, over Disney’s Frozen. I suppose we’ll just have to “Let It Go”.

Source: TheRichest

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