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your-brilliant-lady-m · 4 years ago

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Part 5 - Basic Concepts of Miraculous Ladybug: Guardians

Helloooo! Did you think I was done? No!

My PhD thesis chapters were approved last week, so have some celebratory meta. I haven't seen the latest Season 4 episodes, so do forgive me for not being up to date.

Welcome to the next part of my analysis of the basic concepts of Miraculous Ladybug. Today we are talking about Master Fu, Order of the Guardians and how little everything here makes sense. I highly recommend reading previous parts to fully understand this one, but I'll try to quote most parts of earlier posts.

Order of the Guardians

Order is an international and ancient organisation (New York Special showed us the guardian from North America and he was dressed like Su Han). Presumably, Miraculous jewels were created by these people. Guardians are responsible for the preservation of jewels and knowledge about them. They also distribute Miraculouses to worthy people around the world to combat mostly magical threats, but sometimes jewels are used against normal threats too. It's implied that Master Fu used Miraculouses during WW2 when he was in Paris. Perhaps he performed some spywork with Marianne, but the magical nature of his interferences was discovered and he was forced to flee, before returning to France many decades later.

Why does the Order need so many people to take care of a 3 Miracle Boxes? If its only purpose is to preserve knowledge, keep magical secrets and distribute Miraculous jewels then wouldn't it be more logical to have Master-Apprentice system? It's much easier to keep magic knowledge a secret and train a few people in martial arts than doing the same in the self-sufficient temple full of people, keeping in mind that a good part of them are teenagers and children, who are bad at keeping secrets. Also a single person can travel around the world much easier to give out Miraculouses. Imagine that we have a few active guardians traveling the world with Boxes. What do other people at the temple do in the meantime? They teach the next generation about the powers of each Miraculous and Mirakung Fu, but besides that?

Master-Apprentice system gives us more personal conflict between Fu and his mentor and makes his relationship with Marinette and Adrien more nuanced. In this scenario Fu accidentally caused the death of his Master at 14 because he wasn't careful. It makes sense for him to take on only 1 or 2 students if this is how things were done with Miraculous Guardians. This Wang Fu is very cautious and protective, he spent the majority of his life afraid of hurting someone else and never took an apprentice as a result. But now he is ready to try again, since he is not getting any younger and he likes these 2 kids. He wants them to succeed. Maybe Master Fu, becomes the father figure for Adrien in this situation and a guide for Marinette. Just think about it. This way writers avoid the need to develop all these extra characters (Su Han) and traditions related to the Order. All inconsistencies I mentioned before and later in this post are gone now! Hell, even memory loss and the changing of the Miracle Box shape could make more sense. We also raise the stakes post-amnesia, if it happens of course (the whole Season 3 finale didn't make sense, so stay tuned for my next meta). Marinette and Adrien are on their own now, there's no one who can give them answers. It's very fun scenario, which has potential to be brilliant. Any thoughts on that?

The existence of Order of the Guardians is not quite a secret, at least it wasn't in XIX century China. Master Fu in "Feast" says that guardianship was considered "a great honor". It implies that people who lived close to the temple of the Order knew about Miraculouses and what exactly guardians did for the greater good.

The existence of other Miracle Boxes around the world makes sense from a real-life perspective. Writers have the ability to create many stories set in the same universe and use them for merchandise and an almost unlimited amount of content. Judging by the unholy amount of specials in production, this is exactly what the creators are going to do. It probably won't go down well, but who knows?

However, it doesn't work in our main story. The main conflict is Paris-centred. Gabriel's motivations revolve around Emilie's resurrection and Season 4 gives us more reasons to suspect that Adrien's mom wasn't as wonderful as everyone says. Hawkmoth still remains the main villain of the show and most likely it's going to stay that way. There's no point in moving the main story to different places for the sake of introducing more Miracle Boxes from around the world. Ladybug and Chat Noir aren't needed to fight something halfway across the world unless Hawkmoth also changes locations.

LB and CN are centrepieces of this franchise. They brought success and money to ZAG. Creators constantly need to remind the audience that this new piece of media with new characters who will never be mentioned again is connected to Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Writers have to come up with reasons to include our heroic duo into the story even if makes no sense.

New York Special had to introduce American Heroes whose names rarely come up in the fandom because people stopped caring about them or their stories shortly after the release of the Special. I barely saw any content dedicated to them. In order to bring LB and CN into the story, you have to include Hawkmoth too. Gabriel suddenly needs to get his hands on the Eagle Miraculous and goes to USA. Marinette and Adrien suddenly have a class trip to New York. Unfortunately, their presence in this story is required only to expand the world of Miraculous and attract fans of the show, so that they could keep an eye on new content related to newly introduced characters.

In the end, it's not their story. Events of the special don't affect main story of the show and the development of the love square is merely an illusion, because Adrien and Marinette are no closer than before. In season 4 LB and CN are growing apart and their test of trust in NY Special doesn't matter. Perhaps, some people don't see it that way and it's their right, but I find it hard to see NYS as a valid contribution to canon. I mean, even people in large portion of the fandom state in the tags on AO3 that "specials are not canon", "specials didn't happen" or "ignores both specials". It speaks volumes about continuity and preferences of your fandom.

Shanghai Special didn't give us more information about the Order, which is located in China, history of Miraculous jewels. We still don't know much about how Gabriel and Emilie found Peacock and Butterfly. Maybe, Marinette's family had connections to Miraculous jewels. Maybe, Adrien does some snooping and discovers research his parents made while Gabriel is away. All of these are relevant to the main story. However, we got something much different in the end.

Marinette chases Adrien across the globe and they make new friends. Fey becomes Ladydragon and now has a direct contact with Marinette through her uncle. Gabriel's desire to get his hands on the Prodigious comes out of nowhere. Apparently, he had been planning this trip for years, presumably even before Adrien was born. It probably happened at the same time as Agrestes found 2 Miraculouses. He bought bracelet-key (which is also a Miraculous apparently, but its Kwami is a Guardian of the Prodigious and they existed separately for a very long time - and let us not dwell on this mess) from some shady mafia boss, who can easily find out just who Gabriel really is (fashion designer billionaire) and use this information to blackmail him. This Special didn't answer important questions, but it gave us a new superhero character.

The real question is whether Miraculous as a project will survive long enough for writers to create content for every minor character they introduced in all specials. This is only a beginning after all.

Miraculous is not a global show and it can't be globalised in a way that makes sense, at least with Ladybug and Chat Noir in the centre of action. Case closed.

Mirakung Fu

I liked the idea of Mirakung Fu introduced in "Furious Fu". It makes sense and things rarely do in this show. Miraculous grants its holder superhuman strength, stamina, endurance and ability to fight. This means that essentially transformed heroes are guided by magic in combat. There's nothing personal in the way Miraculous holders fight. You can predict their moves and learn how to fight this magic guidance, which is what Su Han does.

However, if the holder has any special training, skills or knows any martial art in their civilian life then they become more dangerous opponents during transformation because now their fighting is a mix of magical moves and their personal knowledge, tricks and style. Therefore, Adrien and Kagami as skilful fencers have more chances of winning against someone who knows Mirakung Fu than Marinette, for example.

Memory loss

At the end of season 3, we find out several things:

apparently, now Miracle Box can change appearance to suit its guardian;

when Guardian passes down the Miracle Box to someone else, they lose memories not only about everything related to Miraculous, but also about pretty much everything in their life (Fu doesn't recognise Marianne, instead he experiences the love at first sight)

Master Fu trains Marinette to be the proper holder and next Guardian off-screen. He says that her training as the holder is complete in "Feast" and wants her to become the next Guardian. Fu told her lots of things, and yet, he never mentioned the fact that he would lose his memory after relinquishing the box, nor the fact that Marinette would lose her memory afterwards. She finds out about this from Wayzz after the battle with Miracle Queen and the letter that Master Fu gave her. That's not proper training! How on Earth do you forget to mention this memory loss? How?

Master Fu's amnesia is a convenient plot device that removes him from the narrative almost completely. That's mostly all there is to it. Why? Because it doesn't make sense.

Fu was around 7 or 8 when he started his training. The disaster at the temple happened when he was 14. He stated that his training was never complete, which means that he never passed any magical ritual, never swore an oath or was bound by some kind of spell that made him subjected to the rule of memory loss.

Miracle Boxes belonged to the order, not Fu. Their design reflected their country of origin because these Miraculous were made and kept in China. They were just standing there on the shelves not magically bound to anyone in particular. When Feast attacked, monks just tossed Wang Fu the miracle box and grimoire. No one at the temple lost their memory after Fu took the box with him (Su Han is the proof). Su Han not only remembers Fu and his mistake but everything that happened that fateful day as well. In "Furious Fu" Marinette explains Su Han that Master Fu lost his memory in the very first conversation they have. However, after Ladybug and Chat Noir fight Su Han on the roof and escape with the Miracle Box, the latter searches for Fu and attempts to take his staff from him. In this scene, Su Han acts like Fu knows very well what is going on and who he is.

Su Han should be aware of the memory loss rule as the Celestial Guardian. He remarks on the different shape of the Mother Miracle Box and calls her "incorrect", which means that Su Han should have been able to easily tell that previous Guardian lost his memory and the Miracle Box is now bound to someone else. But he doesn't say anything. Moreover, since Su Han is supposed to know about amnesia, he seemed awfully chill about forcing this 14-year-old girl in front of him to give up the box and her memories. Hell, Chat Noir wasn't on board with this. But we get zero reaction from Su Han.

During the first conversation between Marinette and Su Han, he doesn't ignore what she is trying to say, instead he actively comments on every word. Even if Su Han didn't listen when Marinette told him about Fu's memory loss, than he still should be able to understand that Fu doesn't recognise him, because of common sense and the "incorrect" shape of the box. But nothing of the sort happens. Because writers apparently forgot that "memory loss" is supposed to be known to everyone in the Order. On-screen it looks like Su Han is not aware of the "amnesia rule".

"Furious Fu" makes the concept of memory loss a plothole no matter how you look at it. Just like "Timetagger" and "Chat Blanc", as well as "Kwamibuster" this episode is not consistent within itself. It does not surprise me, however.

Grimoire and Guardian Staffs

Let's talk about the Miraculous Grimoire. Good things first.

There are no illustrations of Miraculouses in camouflage. Kwami can't read its contents, only guardians can. Certain elements are written in riddles as an additional precaution. The book contains only the information people have learned so far, which means that Miraculouses have more unexplored potential ("Mr. Pigeon 72"). It describes powers of each Miraculous, provides information about weapons, has instructions for potions that don't make sense (see previous parts).

Unfortunately, everything is about to go downhill from here.

Guardians are taught how to read the writing in this book. They can read it just like people learn to read texts in a different language. This means that one can read Grimoire like any other book (you don't need to consult some guide to decode each letter or word). Master Fu proclaimed Marinette an almost fully trained Guardian. He should have taught her how to read the Grimoire then (he doesn't know the code very well, but he knew enough to understand the general meaning and content of the book according to "Collector"). He didn't. We don't know why. He shows her powers of every Miraculous but doesn't teach her the code.

Master Fu knows that Grimoire now belongs to Gabriel Agreste. He knows that it's dangerous for someone else to have it. If they knew how to read the Grimoire, they could discover all secrets of Miraculouses and harm Ladybug, Chat Noir and other heroes. It's very important to keep the information about the code top secret because Fu is not the only one with the source material.

What does he do then? Master Fu proceeds to write a French translation of Grimoire for Marinette, a translation that he doesn't even need. He carries it with him at all times on a tablet (without any precautions) just like the Miracle box after "Feast". Naturally, it means that in "Miracle Queen", Gabriel and Nathalie easily managed to get their hands on the tablet and Miracle Box. It allows the plot to happen, sure. But it doesn't make any sense.

"Furious Fu" created another curious plot hole. It will probably be ignored, of course. Su Han has a staff with a magical compass that allows him to find any Miracle box, but not the Miraculous jewels for some reason. How does the staff work? Can it locate the box without the Miraculous? If yes, then it seems useless. What's the point in the ability to locate an empty box? If it can locate the box only with the Miraculous jewels inside, it implies that the staff can track the location of every Miraculous too. So, Su Han could just locate the Butterfly and Peacock without any problem. But he talks about reassigning Ladybug and Black Cat to adults and defeating Hawkmoth like locating the Butterfly is not possible. This situation makes the Guardian Staff a simple plot device that creates plot holes and its only purpose is to explain how Su Han found Marinette.

Also, I have a few more words to say about this. Master Fu had a Guardian Staff that was never mentioned before. I wonder why? That's because the staff didn't exist before "Furious Fu" was written. Writers just went: "Do you know what would be cool? If Fu's cane was really a secret Guardian Staff with a compass all along that he decided to keep even after he lost his memory? It would make people wonder whether Master Fu is faking amnesia, and everyone will definitely call him an awful mentor after this even though we kind of tried to make him a good and responsible person."

Fu didn't give it to Marinette and didn't mention it to her. Why? When he gave up his memory, he should have written about this in his letter at least. Why did he decide to keep it? He can't use it anyway now.

Please note how in the flashbacks Fu didn't take any staff with him when he escaped the temple. Su Han seemed to know how Fu's staff looked like. It means that Master Fu didn't make this staff himself, because it belonged to the Order.

Su Han wasn't even surprised that Marinette didn't have the staff as the current Guardian. Was she not supposed to have it? He never questioned the fact that the former Guardian without memories has the staff. Su Han actually returns this staff to Fu after he is deakumatized and Fu acts like they have never met before. Why did Su Han gave the staff back when he knows what it is and to whom it should belong (to him or to Marinette as the current Guardian)? The staff is useless in the hands of the civilian. Does Marianne know about its secret? We'll probably never find out, unfortunately.

Guardian Staff of Master Fu has a compass too and therefore this also makes it a plot device, just like Su Han's staff.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculous analysis #miraculous meta #ml meta #ml analysis #miraculous critical #miraculous ladybug critical #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #mt of lb and cn #miraculous guardian #miraculous order of guardians #master fu #miraculous master fu #wang fu #miraculous su han

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caitsyoi · 4 years ago

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I made a post about the Seraphites, so now I want to make one about the WLF. This post is mostly about the WLF's home base, aka the stadium and the area immediately around it. I've included some of my favorite pictures, and my thoughts and observations about where they live and their culture.

Under the cut again to keep things nice and clean.

I gotta say, this blew my mind when I first saw this as Abby. The WLF really have their shit together. Multiple power sources, a bunch of the resources FEDRA left behind, and multiple food sources. The field has cattle, sheep, and chickens plus some farming. On the steps they have even more areas for farming. They have a way to collect water, and even people to design and string up their logo everywhere.

It makes sense, supposedly thousands of people live here (you can't see it unless except via glitch, but there is also baseball stadium immediately next to this that they might also occupy).

We only see where Abby and other soldiers (perhaps squad leaders?) live. They have a pretty cushy life, two per luxury box (the rooms NFL teams overcharge for that run along the upper level of stadiums). Mel also mentions a special area for young families, I wouldn't be surprised if these areas were further divided. Perhaps there is also housing for larger families and single people who aren't soldiers or squad leaders. I very much wonder if those who join the military get better housing than those that work as farmers (or dishwashers, teachers, laundry washers, cooks, etc.). As mentioned earlier, Abby and Manny live in a luxury box, and there are 112 of those in the stadium this is based on. That's housing for 224 people, if they all live like the people in Abby's hallway. That would mean there has to be more housing in other parts of the stadium.

This stadium was once used by FEDRA, and you can see the concrete barriers they left behind along the edge of the field. They have to have more cattle than this, to feed all the people that supposedly live under the WLF. There is farmland around the stadium (more on that later), so maybe they mostly let them graze out there, then move some in when they plan on slaughtering them soon.

I love that they have wind turbines AND solar panels. You can see the influence that the Fireflies had on Issac and the WLF, they really focus on stability and restoring what was lost (at least when it comes to comfort). So they have electricity, sustainable food sources (and multiple kinds too), and a way to collect water (you can't see it in this shot, but they use a system similar to Jackson's, just on a much wider scale).

They teach a curriculum similar to what was taught to kids before the outbreak. We only see two classrooms, but from what I can tell they try to give the gives the type of education they could have received in the old days (as best they can, at least). Both the teachers you see are pretty young, which makes me wonder who taught them.

Most of the kinds you see in class are pretty young, like less than 10. These look a little order (they are outside the stadium in the market area, which I will talk about more a little later). I wonder how long WLF children are required to attend school (I think I saw a sign for 1st through 6th grade, so at least that?). I imagine they get a basic education with some broad looks into various topics, and maybe the ones most apt for study are selected to do specialized careers like teaching or meteorology. Other children are probably pushed into farming or the military portion of the WLF. Regardless of what they study, they probably also get a heavy dose of WLF propaganda. That aligns with how gung-ho many of them are to fight.

I wonder if military service is compulsory, like everyone has has to do at least so much time and then they can do other things if they want. Or maybe they make it so you don't have to fight if you don't want to, but those that do get better perks.

Most of the WLF you see appear to be in their 20's or 30's, or at least the fighters. That would mean they have spent most (if not all) of their lives under military rule, and they would have a special allegiance to the WLF since they manage things so much better than FEDRA did. Plus, you know, all that propaganda. I imagine they are told a lot about how the WLF is restoring society and how the WLF saved them from FEDRA/Scars/infected.

Sorta related, I thought of an WLF AU. Ellie grows up in Seattle under the WLF, perhaps with Riley and Dina and the other characters from canon. So many interesting things can be done with this, but that's for another post maybe.

This is one the cafeteria's the WLF use. I believe this is one of a few, although this is the only one you see. There is also a butcher and small market for clothing and items here too. They prepare food here, but I think the majority of cooking is done in an area set up for it in the stands.

They have posted meal times for groups A-F, and separate meal times for children and the late night patrol. So maybe this is the only cafeteria? Each end is blocked off, so maybe they use some of the corridor that circles the stadium for more living quarters.

This is also community space where they can play games, chat, or read. There also seems to be a mix of soldiers and other workers eating together, as well as young families (there is at least 1 or 2 women with young babies in here).

This little detail was super cute to me, but it also tells you a lot about WLF society. Everyone has a job to do, there is a role and place for everyone to contribute.

I'll talk more about this in another post (titled "It's Silly to Call a Post-apocalyptic Group 'Fascists', but Still the WLF Is Pretty Messed Up"), but an important thing to remember about the WLF is that everything comes down to Issac. He has the final say on everything, he makes all the major decisions, he picks squad leaders, he decides who needs to be punished, he's basically the Supreme Leader. Issac has been shown to be somewhat progressive with some things (you can follow whatever religion you want or none at all in the WLF, the WLF has no problem with LGBTQ people, you can get medical waivers for military duty, they provide support for pregnant women and parents, etc.), and in other ways he is very much the opposite (he punishes anyone who disagrees with him - this could be a relatively light punishment of a crappy assignment or it could be a beating, then there's the whole attempted genocide thing). Anyway, my point is that there are good things about the WLF, but also there is a serious darkside.

Anyway, when I saw this lady and her baby I immediately thought of Dina doing this with JJ while she gardens.

I absolutely loveeeee this little detail. A mural for the fallen. This really reminds me of some stuff you could see today, just replace the wolf with an eagle and make the uniforms camo.

There are 46ish names on this wall, so I wonder if it is continuously updated or if there are multiple murals, because they definitely have lost more people than that over the years. Also, there are about 150 people at the FOB (the amount of bodies at the FOB, yes I counted) that will need to be added. Maybe the war with the Seraphites just really exploded in the last few weeks (or maybe longer) leading up to Ellie's arrival.

I love that you can pause during the ride with Abby, Mel, and Manny to look around the outside of the stadium. Immediately outside there are train tracks and what appears to be a large market running along side of it. This is on the west side of the stadium, I believe. A major highway intersection is also nearby.

The market has all sorts of goods, food, gas, clothing, cleaning products, TVs and other electronics, records, and even more. I wonder if this is some sort of intake area for any goods they bring back to the base. But who runs these little shops? From some notes you can find we know their economy runs on trade, so how does this work?

Once you get past the market area, you see a pretty vast section of farmland. I loved this shot because it also shows one of their rain water storage areas. They mark this water as to be used only for irrigation, so they must use something else for people to drink and bathe with. Or maybe they just filter some water for people to use, and the rest goes to the plants.

In the background you can see the wall and a guard tower. There is a larger wall (like much larger, I'm talking maybe 5 stories) around the QZ, and a smaller one that runs around the stadium.

This is labeled "Checkpoint #4", so I'm not sure if that means there are other gates, but this is the only one we see in game.

The wall is pretty thick, and you can see these guard towers spaced out all alongside it (much like in Jackson). Once you leave the walls you are immediately surrounded by the wasteland that is post-apocalyptic Seattle.

#The amount of detail they put into this game is insane #I can see why it took so long to make #The WLF's base is probably my second favorite place outside of Jackson #But there isn't a lot of competition #WLF thesis stuff #I have spent way too much time thinking about this game #the last of us 2 #WLF

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sepublic · 5 years ago

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Your character analysises are so cool. I was wondering if you can do one for Amity. I chose her since she made a lot of appearance so you will have lots of canon events to work on:>

Sorry for the late response!

This is KIND OF a big challenge, and I’ve already done multiple posts analyzing Amity’s character before. So for now, let me just try to quickly summarize it all up, with what we’ve learned since Adventures in the Elements, and give my overall views on Amity and how I see and write her;

The impression and vibes I get from Amity is that she’s the kind of kid who’s got a lot of pressure on them to do well both at school and at home. They’re really desperate for the approval of older, authority figures like teachers and adults, in part because this sort of kid is lonely and doesn’t know how to make friends. This kid is likely to push friends away, not only because of pressing from adults to be better and not dragged down and prevent bad influences (a dilemma made only worse by her trouble-making siblings), but also because she likely has insecurity and self-loathing issues and doesn’t think she’s ‘good enough’, either for her own accomplishments or friendship in general. She kind of gives me Impostor Syndrome vibes. She’s mean to people like Luz both because she feels like she can’t be distracted, but also because Amity doesn’t really believe people would un-ironically want to be her friend, so to avoid being hurt she pushes others away.

Obviously, this is not doing good for her self-esteem and she’s lonely. Emira and Edric’s teasing has likely contributed to Amity being afraid of opening up, and if it’s with adults who have a lot of expectations on her, I guess it’s not a surprise she tends to be emotionally stifled. She definitely has Gifted Child syndrome where she places a lot of self-worth on being that ‘mature, obedient’ kid that the adults all love, with Amity not realizing this will only result in her emotional stagnation and lack of maturity later on in life from a lack of proper social interaction. Tellingly, when placed into bad situations that are arguably more the fault of an adult/teacher, she never blames them for it, and instead externalizes her anger on someone else involved. Amity has a huge respect for authority, which is likely connected to her desire to be in the Emperor’s Coven. Aside from membership in the Emperor’s Coven representing approval on the highest societal level, access to all forms of magic (she likes Azura and whatnot), and approval of the adults who set Amity on her path, it’s also likely that she thinks that she can friends, or at least others like her in the EC. To Amity, the Emperor’s Coven probably consists of what her parents and others may deem as ‘acceptable’ friends.

Naturally, a combination of insecurity, high expectations, and terrible social interaction has also led to Amity being a bit of a bully, but only in a reactionary sense; She doesn’t seek out drama like Boscha would. If she’s left alone, then she’ll leave you alone; But if she feels like you’re messing with her, Amity WILL be aggressive. With Willow, she also goes out of her way to ‘help’, but it’s obvious that she’s echoing a lot of bad tactics that seeks to remind a person of their failures; So it’s probable that the same things she said to Willow in her first appearance, were similarly said to Amity herself by her own mentors. Likewise, Amity’s self-doubt probably leads to her bullying Willow, because in her mind, she deserves to feel good about herself, and the elitist attitude she was taught has likely told her that people like Willow who do badly in school are just lazy and ‘deserve’ their bad grades.

Still, there’s that incessant loneliness. And while Amity does try to be super-mature, and live up a standard of rules -such as respecting hard work- and so forth... She’s also really freaking lonely, which is why she initially tries to reconnect with Willow in Episode 3. She’s not sure what to think of Luz because again, Amity doubts anyone would un-ironically be invested in her, and also because Emira and Edric likely tend to act friendly, then mean, and then brush it all aside afterwards; So she has trust issues and isn’t sure if she can trust Luz and open up to her. Amity’s a very closed-off individual.

And amidst all of her obsession with hard work and the pressure on her, I get the impression that Amity isn’t necessarily talented like her siblings or Willow, and actively has to work hard for her grades? Granted, it could just be because she’s expected to be the best at everything, but there’s also the possibility that she lacks talent and has to make up for it through sheer determination. Which, combined with expectations placed on her, both as a Blight and also because adults know she’s less likely to complain and act out and do as she’s told, it just gets very uncomfortable. Amity needs a place to be herself, but alone, because she doesn’t think anyone would really accept her, for who she really is?

(I mean, we all know at least ONE person...)

At the same time, while she definitely has to try and not just ace everything effortlessly, I also think she genuinely loves and enjoys school, education, and teaching in general; It’s just that making it into a standardized grading system sucks the joy out of it all, as Eda might say. Amity enjoys reading to those kids in Episode 7, and there was a promotional crossover post prior to the show’s premiere about Amity trying to pitch an educational series and being saddened when she got rejected. This girl is a total dork, as if her love for Azura wasn’t already enough!

I also think it’s why in Adventures in the Elements, she becomes a lot more open to Luz, happier around her, and even sort of initiates social connection by waving her hand at Luz at one point! She’s afraid of rejection and loneliness, of not being good enough... But Luz is someone who likes Amity just as she is. And I think Amity is a little anxious to be on Luz’s good side, to not mess up with her like she did Willow (which, Amity may still have reservations about being friends with Willow again... Even if her biases were gone she might still feel guilty, and/or get defensive when called out on her behaviors because Amity feels like she has to defend what adults have told her to do). I think she’s also afraid of getting taken advantage of, given her hurt expression when she found Luz with her Training Wand... But at the same time, she doesn’t want to throw away a friend because she’s been so lonely and found someone with a mutual interest. So in addition to that and Luz’s previous kindness, she’s still concerned for her, and it pays off when Luz comes back to help Amity!

TLDR; This is a lonely, insecure kid who has a lot of pressure on her and doesn’t know how to talk to people, so she internalizes a lot of stuff and ends up becoming off-putting as a result, because she doesn’t want to be hurt. But by the end of the day she’s a still total dork and a dweebus and wants friends and still feels guilt for being mean, but because of expectations on her to be better, Amity feels like she has to prove herself and that also leads to her not wanting to hang out with the ‘wrong friends’ as a result. She’s coped with loneliness by vying for adult approval, and likely operates on a strong sense of right and wrong. She has been hurt before, and her interactions with her siblings make talking with people a lot more confusing to Amity; I wouldn’t be surprised if someone might make a joke or something, and Amity, totally-serious and deadpan, would take them at their word for it and not realize said person was joking.

In short, I love her alongside everyone else in this show-

#the owl house #owl house #amity blight #the owl house amity #ask #character analysis

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msujinri · 5 years ago

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official intro post!

hello lovelies! it’s adri back with a new muse! this is nam jinri, my soft geum girl 🥺 she’s a music major with a minor in healing and is currently in her senior year here at msu! i don’t have a plot page for her yet, but you find her profile here and more information about her underneath the cut! as always, if you are interested in plotting, just like this post and i’ll get to your dms either here or on discord as soon as i can! so without further ado, click the ‘read more’ below!

background info

nam jinri was born and raised in seoul, south korea. she comes from a family of performers with both of parents having professional dancing backgrounds and her older brother being an up & coming theater actor.

while her family excelled in visual performance, jinri turned to classical music, studying and playing the violin since she was five years old.

her family comes from a long line of wizards on both sides, but her immediate family as been living among muggles the past thirty years. so although jinri has grown up knowing about her family’s magical background, her family doesn’t use magic on a daily basis making jinri rather disconnected from magic by the time she was accepted to the korean magical school.

at the school, she found herself adept in potions and herbology which later helped contribute to her interest in magical healing. it was also found early on that jinri was rather weak when it came to martial magic, her weakest subject being charms.

after graduating, jinri spent her summer studying music performance at seoul national university through one of their summer programs, returning every summer afterwards after finishing her terms at mokseong.

currently, jinri is a senior at msu sorted under geumseong.

she majors in music as a violinist and minors in healing after showing a high aptitude for healing magic.

she’s currently in the potions club, the herbology club, and the choir club.

personality info

jinri is a soft person at heart, always believing in the good in people and never actually believing that people are born bad. despite being reserved and rather timid by nature, she’s extremely warm and kind-hearted though it can sometimes come across as naïve.

she’s quiet when you first meet her as she can be uncomfortable in unfamiliar environments and social situations. but once you get her to open up, you can see that she is a bit quirky and easily excitable.

she is a sensitive person, her emotions influenced by the moods of the people around her. this can lead her to become easily stressed out especially if the other person’s emotions are really intense.

because she is also highly empathetic, jinri tends to take on other people’s emotions to help lessen the burden on them. she feels for them and always offers to hear them out and comfort them if they need it. however, this can easily make her likely to be a pushover as people in the past have often taken advantage of this kindness of hers.

jinri is extremely modest and finds it hard to take compliments as she can also be highly self-critical. ironically, she’ll always compliment and praise other people because she genuinely wants to make their day and/or make them feel proud of themselves :((

she’s not necessarily the type to get mad, but she does get hurt easily so please be gentle with her :((

extra info

she always tries to improve herself or help others to the point where she forgets to look after herself emotionally/mentally.

most of her time spent is dedicated to her music. she’s always practicing the violin or at rehearsals. once a month, she goes to busan for a weekend to play at the busan cultural center. other times, she street performs in the courtyard on campus at the request of her peers though it’s mainly for fun.

she and @msuflorence have a flootube channel where they perform orchestra covers of their favorite muggle songs + tunes. (ex. here, here, & here <3 )

she’s childhood friends with @msulevi & @msujieun

her immediate family isn’t necessarily rich but they are pretty well off due to the professions of her grandparents. her grandfather on her father’s side is one of the leaders in south korea’s magical technological advancement program while her grandparents on her her mother’s side both work in the preservations of the arts for both the magical and muggle worlds.

does this make jinri a trust fund baby? probably 🥴 but she doesn’t touch a cent of it because she insists it can be used for something better. so she does have half a mind to sign it off to someone else if they really need it so... 👀 #futureinvestment maybe?

she... doesn’t get memes. she’s behind on the times. we apologize ahsjdkfgjk

okay so this is a big one... jinri loves emotionally connecting with people despite her introverted personality. if she feels like you two have genuinely connected, she’s all in with you 🥺

unfortunately, this also means jinri gets attached to people too easily and romantically, this means she also falls for people pretty easily as well. this isn’t to say she falls for every person she knows, but she does have a tendency to think that close feelings can mean something more if she feels connected to the other person. obviously, this means some people can take advantage of this too once they learn this about her :((

WITH THAT SAID, jinri is a hopeless romantic :(( although she doesn’t particularly believe that true love will happen for her, she believes that other people can find their true loves eventually.

and before i forget, jinri does get sick rather easily due to having a weak immune system so she is very health conscious. she doesn’t smoke and drinks seldom. she takes sleeping schedules very seriously and tries not to stress herself out (though she usually fails at this). she tries to limit her intake on unhealthy foods such as snacks and sweets and does light exercise at least every other day. people who don’t know her too well might think she’s over doing it, but it’s all part of her daily routine.

speaking of daily routines, jinri is also a very meticulous and cleanly person. she really can’t stand cluttered areas or messes so if you catch her trying to fix something that’s out of place or clean up after someone... mind yer business.

plot & connection ideas

friends/acquaintances from the korean magical school of course!!

any other musicians around? come befriend jinri :((

healing majors/minors!! let them stress together ahaha

choir/herbology/potions connections!!

rich kid connections bc... c’mon. or maybe someone recognizes her from connections with her family???

obviously, not everyone loves sweet girls... so maybe there are people who think she’s fake or just hate her for her soft personality )):

uhhh maybe somebody can break her heart??? 😰 make her fall for them and just... crush her spirit ASHDJKFHJKDK

uhhhh also someone teach her about love for real??? she’s soft... let her be someone’s eventual gf...

or if you want jinri to dote on your muse, she can be that person :(( she loves being affectionate with those close to her

#futureinvestment... is your muse trying to create an upstart business or needs funding to continue some big project? uhhhh come track jinri down and sell your pitch 😏

uhh someone keep track of her health bc she won’t do it herself tbqh

maybe someone wants her to teach them how to play the violin??? that’s fun. or maybe they keep bugging her about requests 🤔

someone notices her rather healthy lifestyle and either criticizes her for being too uptight or asks her for advice instead

your muse saw a performances of hers and became a fan. they try to approach her about it but she’s shy??? she looked so cool and graceful a second ago!

friends! please!!

and anything else!! i’m open to everything!! let’s plot please <3

#( ooc | mun's words )#THIS TOOK ME LONGER THAN I WANTED #but please come love my babie (':#i wanted to write more tbh #i feel like i'm forgetting so many things ashjdkfghjkl #but here we are!!

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sanders-sides-fic · 5 years ago

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Member list of the royal council

Earl Janus de Dévoiler

Janus is a long-time friend of Remus. He is almost always composed and takes great care of his appearance - both socially and aesthetically. The silver-tongued man usually makes sure there are no uprisings or problems with the newly enforced rules. His younger brother Remy can be a true life-saver as the kingdom’s most talented spy. Who would ever suspect the sassy, snarky, bastard-son to work for the princes when he was disowned and his brother got moved up two ranks?

Janus has the left side of his face covered by a silver mask at all times. Whenever he is asked about it, he answers with a different reason. People call him two-faced as a joke.

They also say that his loyalty was wavering, that he was like a flag in a storm: always turning. It’s not true, of cause. He’s just good at pretending that he’s on your side - until he doesn’t need to anymore. But at the end of the day, he’s only loyal to Remus, himself and his brother. And maybe he’s warming up to the other members of the council a little. No one knows for sure.

Virgil

Virgil is a dragon-kin who was hired by Remus as his court magician. That in itself is scandal enough, but when he gets appointed a seat at the table of the royal council? Let’s just say Janus worked overtime for a few months. But Virgil knows his stuff, and he knows the streets and the underground better than himself. All the ugly truths, the things hiding in the shadows and problems underneath the surface. Virgil himself says his life on the streets has made him careful. Everyone else says he’s an anxious mess that learned how to trust. How Remus of all people managed to accomplish that is a mystery, to Remus and Virgil as much as to the rest of them.

Virgil doesn’t know his last name or if he even has one. That didn’t help him get accepted by the nobles in Remus’ court much either, but none of them dared to go against the duke. He knows the people in the royal council won’t hurt him like other humans have done before, and he trusts them more than anyone else, but he’s still careful not to let his mask of indifference slip as much as he can help it and mostly stays quiet, until Roman gets him to engage in friendly banter. He does however feel comfortable enough to be seen flying around from time to time.

Patton had the hardest time convincing Virgil that he didn’t hate him, though, because it was hart to believe to Virgil that a priest of all people would find it in himself to accept a demon-blooded council member. In the end it worked out fine, though.

Pater Patton Bluemoon

Patton was born, raised and educated in the church. He never used to leave and was appointed the priest of the castle right when his training ended. Before that he would volunteer in the soup kitchen for the poor and later in the orphanage. He loved all the children dearly, too dearly. Because of that, Patton knows that people have it bad, but he’s still sheltered and somewhat naive. Virgil is, ever since he convinced him that he didn’t have anything against demon-kin, very protective of and worried for him.

Patton built the first public school ever inside an old chapel, after a design and idea Logan had had. The two of them are the only teachers there as of now, but he doesn’t mind getting to spent extra time with the children. On Logan’s request, he makes an effort to teach children a bit of reading and basic math on his tours through the country. He’s the most comfortable in the castle with Roman and king Thomas, though.

Patton’s main objective is improving the standard of living for everybody. His secondary objective is to keep all his friends well-fed with home baked cookies. Especially Virgil. Virgil may not live on the streets anymore, but he is still way too thin for his own good from back then… Oh. And peace. Patton is also voting for peace as much as he can.

Lord Logan Night

Logan is the only son of the Night knightdom. He, for one, is very tired of the constant jokes about his family name. He has generally grown tired of puns since spending more time around the young priest. If anyone needs to find him, chances are he’s in the library or in the astronomy tower. He didn’t want to become a knight, if he was being honest, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He’s glad Roman appointed him into the council, where he could spent his time pursuing knowledge rather than fighting wars.

Logan is generally known as stoic and cold, but those who know him well know that he only has a hard time showing his emotions. He’s actually pretty sensitive. Logan, valuing knowledge and logic above all, usually tries to built a better educational system. Or any public education, rather. He doesn’t believe anyone should be denied the right to learn, no matter their origin. Together with Patton, he built the first public school ever inside an old chapel. He and Patton are the only teachers there as of now, but he hopes that’ll change soon.

Another thing Logan contributes to the royal council is his strategic ability. Surprisingly, his strategies are usually quite brutal. He has a strict moral code and he will not stray from that, but playing fair in a war obviously isn’t a part of that. Usually Virgil has to check his plans over a few times, not just to calm his own nerves but also to make sure there aren’t any unnecessary risks involved. Because Logan’s upbringing sometimes makes it hard for him to tell when a risk is really necessary.

Duke Remus Sanders and Prince Roman Sanders

Roman appointed Logan and Patton, Remus appointed Janus and Virgil. The two of them live separately since coming off age and usually don’t get along too well. But they are still brothers at heart and would jump off a cliff for each other. Well, Remus would jump off a cliff for fun. Virgil knows. Oh, how much Virgil knows that!

If you want to know more about the twins, read the introduction to the au.

AU-masterpost: here

Taglist: @gattonero17

#sanders sides au #sanders sides #royal council au #tell me if you wanna be tagged #this is mainly a one shot au #so feel free to sent requests

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paullahotes · 6 years ago

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Incalescent- Chapter Two

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Fem!OC

Summary: Em just wants to be loved and have a family for once in her life. But nothing has ever gone right in her life before so why should it now?

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: semi-abuse from father figure, gross feelings

A/N: Listen, I don’t think I’m a good writer so this could be terrible! Let me know what you guys think of it!

Three periods had crawled by, each one continuously going slower than the last. I was now sitting in my algebra class, watching the clock tick by slowly. This school was shaping up to be different than the others I had been to, everyone wanted to know me here. A couple different boys, whose names I didn’t remember, had all introduced themselves to me. They were all eager to meet the new girl, they rarely got new people in this town and I was ‘front page baby’. Of course I was not too eager to meet any of them and vehemently denied an interview for the front page of the school newspaper.

When I had gotten home this morning before school, my dad wasn’t there but the house was a mess. Our couch was shredded, pieces of wood and clumps of foam covered the living room. The pan he was cooking dinner in was burnt to a crisp, too far gone to be saved. When I threw it out I made sure to double bag it and bring it right to the can to make sure the smell didn’t linger in the house. The only thing I could do for the rest of the smell in the house was open a few windows and leave them for the day to air everything out.

Thankfully Emily had given me a new outfit and food for school because I had no time for either when I looked around at the mess before me. Though, currently the wolves were the last things on my mind. The one thing at the forefront was that I had killed my mother and my father hated me for it. There would be no getting out of talking about this with him, maybe he would want to work things out. I knew though that that was far fetched, in his mind, I had killed the woman he loved. I had sucked the life out of her, leaving her dead and me a burden on him. My face practically mirroring hers a constant reminder of the tragic events.

“Miss Abbott?” The teacher called from the front of the class, his hoarse voice pulling me from the self hating thoughts. He was staring me down, waiting for a reply so I shrugged at him. The class was turned looking at me now, every pair of eyes trained on my face. “Miss Abbott, you’re new here, so I’ll give you some leeway this time but from now on you have better be paying attention.”

“Yes, sir,” I muttered back copying down the notes from the board that I had been neglecting. I had already taken this math class three times, I could probably teach it by now. Taking the notes however proved to be a good distraction from my thoughts and before I knew it, the bell was ringing for lunch time.

Paper bag in hand I made my way to the cafeteria and found a table in the corner that no one was sitting at. I sat in a seat so I wouldn’t be facing everyone but so I could still see if I was going to be ambushed by anyone. The few boys who introduced themselves to me this morning all stared me down as they say at a different table. I could hear them muttering about how anti social I was and how even Bella, who had ditched everyone for Edward, was still better than I was coming off.

I didn’t think much of it as I propped my right leg up on a chair, to help with the swelling from the bite from Paul and scrolled through the apps on my phone. The lunch Emily packed me was delicious, with a good mix of veggies and fruit. I usually bought school lunch and picked at it because it was gross so this was a good change. There was nothing interesting on my phone except for a few texts from my dad begging me to come home and apologizing but I wasn’t ready to open up that can of worms over text with him.

“You’re back!” someone said, sarcasm was practically dripping from their mouth. When I looked up one of the girls sitting at the tables with the boys from earlier was looking at some newcomers. If looks could kill the three new people who were standing waiting for seats would be dead.

Two of them were clearly vampires, the small girl with black spiky hair had the palest skin I had ever seen, even for a vampire. She had a sincere smile on her beautiful face, looking as upbeat as ever even with a whole table of people glaring at her The other vampire was a guy, he was standing behind the vampire girl and the other human girl. He was wearing a beige sweater and khakis, his hair disheveled but there was evidence of gel suggesting he wanted to look disheveled on purpose.

The third one of them was a human, if she didn’t have deep brown eyes instead of golden like her two companions I might mistake her for a vampire too. Her skin was so pale it was almost grey. Her long brown hair hung over her shoulders, held back by a plain brown headband. She kept looking up at the male vampire like he was a Greek god with the sun shining out of his butt. He seemed very plain to me, with his beige outfit and brooding look on his face. He looked like he was ready to cry and recite poetry about something sad.

“Our family just loves Forks so much, we couldn’t stay away!” the small girl said excitedly, taking a seat at the table. Her two friends following suit while everyone else at the table shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The rest of the group fell back into their conversations, the girl who was fake excited turned away from the newcomers to talk with everyone.

The table next to me began talking about the three people who showed up at the other table across the cafeteria. One of the people whispered something about doctor Cullen’s wife not liking the big city so they all came back here. The word ‘cult’ was thrown in as a reference to their family because none of them ate or really tried interacting with anyone at this school. I found out from eavesdropping that there were three other siblings that came here last year but graduated. I wondered to myself if Sam and Paul knew that the Cullens were back since just this morning, they told me that they had left.

I studied the two vampires as they pretended to eat their lunch. The girl picked her food apart trying to make it seem like she was taking bites but the guy was actually taking bites. I’d seen my dad eat food to pretend to be human over the years but he said it tasted like ashes. He told me that he assumed the venom in his system just burned it up so why not just take a few bites to blend in with the humans.

The human girl with them also picked at her food not eating it. Maybe she was trying to make the vampires look more normal or maybe she wanted to be one so bad she picked up their habits evan as a human. One of the boys called her ‘Bella’ as she was picking apart the bread on her tray. This was the girl they were talking about earlier, comparing me to her. Which would probably make the guy vampire Edward.

My first thought when finding out that this was the girl everyone thought was better than me was petty. She was plain and from what I could tell didn’t give a damn about anyone else besides the vampires she was with. She was listening and contributing to the conversation with everyone at the table but her eyes barely left the guy. The whole thing gave me secondhand embarrassment.

It wasn’t too long until the bell rang and I was heading to my next class. I pulled my hood over my head to keep my hair from getting wet as I crossed the courtyard to get to the little buildings scattered along a paved sidewalk. This was the first school I had been to where it wasn’t one whole building but a bunch of little ones placed around a campus. Everyone rushed alongside me, most had umbrellas and the ones that didn’t, ran full speed through the crowd to get to their class faster.

I left my jacket on the coat hook by the door when I got to class and found a seat toward the back so that I could be left alone. The assignment for the beginning of class was written on the board, the rest of the class had started writing about it in their journals so I pulled out my notebook. Writing isn't my strong suit but the prompt on the board read ‘write a narrative about something upsetting’ and I knew exactly what to write about.

While I was writing my narrative I glanced up as two people sat at the desks in front of me. Bella and Edward were sitting there, both turned facing each other with their notebooks out. She was glancing over at him every few seconds and I could hear her breathing hitch every time. I had to suppress an eye roll at the sight of it. Sure I had been lonely my whole life but I couldn’t imagine being that into someone. Though how would I even know since I’d never been in that situation.

The class got started and a couple people shared what they had written. I didn’t volunteer to read mine because of how emotional it sounded. Bella and Edward didn’t volunteer either and every once in a while I thought I could see Edward turn and glance my way. After the first couple times Bella noticed and turned back to me and gave me a questioning look. I made sure I looked like I didn’t know what was going on and just sat there doodling in my notebook.

“Are you new?” she asked me when the bell rang, signalling us to leave and head to our last class. This school and everyone in it was going wildly out of their way to talk to me and I wasn’t having it.

“Yeah,” I told her bluntly and quickly walked away. I grabbed my jacket off the hook and shrugged it on going to my last class. I got there before everyone else, having sped off as fast as I could. I could feel my calf throbbing as I sat down. The bite mark wasn’t an open wound anymore but the teeth outline was still there surrounded by bruises. If I didn’t think about it the pain would go away but since I was reminded of it I had to limp to my seat.

I found a seat in the back of this class as well, internally thanking the universe for giving me the best seats as this school. As I sat at my desk waiting for the other students to arrive I stared out the window. The rain had subsided for the time being, the sky still covered in dark clouds. The day had gone much different weather wise than what it had been this morning when Paul was walking me home.

The early morning sun was peeking through the trees as Paul and I walked side by side to my house. His hand kept bumping into my arm as we went. I had seen a couple cheesy movies where the boy and girl would be walking and the boy would bump his hand into hers on purpose because he wanted to hold it. But Paul and I had just met. He was probably so close because my leg was threatening to give out at any second. Emily had thankfully cleaned and bandaged it well so I wouldn’t have to worry about it for a couple hours.

The walk back through the forest was different than last nights run through it. It had been dark and stormy, a combo that hadn’t let me really appreciate how beautiful it was. Though my mental state probably wouldn’t have let me appreciate it either even if it hadn’t been dark and stormy.

The scenery was gorgeous. The entire forest floor was covered in old fallen tree trunks and moss. The green had overwhelmed me on the drive in but being here with the sunlight peeking through the tops of the trees was amazing. You could hear birds chirping and if you listened close enough you could hear the river rushing over rocks a little ways ahead.

Paul nudged me and smirked as we approached the river. My mouth set into a tight line as I thought of having to jump over it with how badly my leg hurt. I frowned up at him and he still had a smirk on his face.

“Do you think I’d make you jump this after trying to take a chunk out of your leg?” He asked me, his eyes twinkling with delight.

“Yeah, actually,” I mumbled back to him. His smile was so bright as he looked down at me. He shook his head and stepped back a bit before putting his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and pulling them down. I looked away quickly as blush spread over my cheeks.

“You should watch this, I think you’ll think it’s cool,” I peeked back over at him making sure not to look down but directly at his face. His smile grew wider as he spoke again. “You’re cute when you blush.”

My face got even redder than before, I could feel the heat spreading across my face rapidly. Before I could even think of anything to say and let alone say it, Paul was visibly shaking. Then suddenly he exploded into a grey wolf five times his size. I stood there with my jaw practically on the ground. He grabbed his shorts in his teeth and walked them over to me.

“You were right, this is pretty cool,” I told him patting his head like I would a regular dog. He didn’t seem to like it so he nudged my hand out of the way and flung his shorts at my face. “Alright, alright I’ll carry these but I don’t know how you being a wolf is going to get me across the river.”

Paul laid down on the ground and gestured with his head for me to get on his back. My eyes widened and I took a step back and muttered ‘no way’ quietly. Then before I could do anything else Paul jumped up and ran at me full speed. I let out a shriek as he charged at me and jumped, my leg kept me from going to high and I was suddenly on his back. A low rumble from his chest alerted me to him laughing.

“I’ll remember this,” I growled at him, gripping onto his fur. The wind whipped passed up as he ran forward, faster than I could run even when my leg was healed. I made a mental note to work on my speed so he wouldn’t have an edge on me. We got to the edge of the river quickly and he leaped across it like it was nothing, landing gracefully on the other side.

“So how’d you like it?” Paul asked smugly a few moments later as he was pulling on his pants. It had been such a rush not being the one who was jumping. I was able to just sit back and let the wind whip through my hair and relax. Him turning into a wolf was pretty cool too, way better than being half vampire.

“It was alright, I’m glad I’m half vampire and can’t turn into some dog,” I tried ending my sentence sounding like I was teasing him. I wasn’t used to feeling anything but empty. I had never come close to even a sliver of happiness. The feelings I felt being around Paul and the feelings I felt back when we were at Sam and Emily’s house were foreign. My life had never known anything like this and as my stomach turned itself into knots I knew it couldn’t last forever.

“I know that you secretly wish you were as cool as me,” He taunted me, the bright smile back on his face. I tried not to look directly at him now that I knew I would blush at everything he did if he had that smile.

“Please, I could find someone cooler than you without even trying,” I shot back, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. This was the longest interaction I had ever had with anyone in my whole life. Even longer than anything with my father. I didn’t even know that I knew how to interact with anyone like this.

“Hey now, you gotta be nice to me or we can’t be friends,” Paul joked back, bumping into me. I looked up at him, my mouth opening then closing because I didn’t know how to respond. The look on my face must have worried him because he grabbed my hand and said, “I was just joking, we just met but I think we’ll be the greatest friends.”

“I’ve never had one…” I mumbled looking up at him. My forehead was furrowed as I looked up at him. It was pretty pathetic that I hadn’t had a friend but it was all part of keeping the family secret.

“You’ve never had a friend?” He asked sounding like he didn’t believe me. I shrugged as we kept walking and didn’t look up at him.

“My dad never let me have one, he wanted to keep our existence a secret and thought that if I ever had any friends that they would somehow find out about us,” I explained, the more I thought about it the more dumb it sounded.

“Your father sounds like a dick,” Paul muttered. He was right, that is how my dad sounded. Why else would he keep me from having friends? Why else would he keep me from being happy? Maybe it all went back to him blaming me for my mother dying, though if I could go back in time I would change things. I would never kill anyone consciously, that wasn’t me.

“That doesn’t matter anymore, we’re your friends now!” Paul said trying to pull me out of my thoughts. We were coming to a clearing and Paul slowed down his walk. “The whole pack is like one big family, we fight like real siblings and we have bonfires together. I really think you’ll get along with everyone once they see past you being a vampire.”

“Everyone?” I asked sounding a little uneasy. “There’s more than you and Sam?”

“Yeah! There’s actually ten of us that are wolves, two more phased for the first time the other day which indicates that more vampires are in our area.” He explained to me as I wrung my hands together. There were ten wolves in the ‘pack’ he was telling me about. Less than twelve hours ago I didn’t even know wolves existed and now I knew about ten.

“There’s a lot of you…” I quietly exclaimed. “How do you know when to phase? How can you tell that vampires are near?”

“You’ll have to come out to a bonfire sometime and hear our tribes stories. They explain it all but in short and to quote the stories ‘we have always had magic in our blood’,” Paul explained to me as we walked along somehow even slower than before. Meeting him had been a good distraction from my feelings and the pain in my stomach told me that as soon as I was alone I would spiral.

“That sounds fancy, I don’t think there are stories of how vampires came to be,” I muttered to him. “Though if there were they would probably be dark and contain no magic.”

“Don’t sound so negative about vampires, you aren’t so bad,” he emphasized ‘so’ and wagged his eyebrows at me jokingly. I let out a small chuckle, rolling my eyes at him.

We made our way out of the thick trees and into my backyard greeted by the sun being out fully. There were no clouds in sight. The warmth spread over my skin and I let myself smile widely. The weather had been disastrous since our arrival yesterday and the sun was a welcome change.

“You don’t sparkle,” Paul commented from behind me. When I turned to look at him he sounded surprised, the look on his face was priceless.

“I am half human, silly,” I told him. He cocked his head to the side watching me. “Maybe that makes me deadlier than a regular vampire. I look completely innocent.”

“It sure does,” He muttered before shaking his head and giving me a small smile. “I’ll see you later right?”

“Of course, what else do I have to do? Stay home and hang out with my dick of a father?” I asked him referencing what he said earlier. He was beaming now and waved me off. As I turned to walk to my house he was pulling off his shorts again and phasing into a wolf. I heard a loud howl in the distance as I was opening my front door, bringing a smile to my face.

“Miss Abbott,” someone said pulling me out of my daydream. I snapped back into reality and saw that this teacher was catching me for not paying attention too. I stared at him until he spoke some more. “Miss Abbott, I was wondering if you would like to introduce yourself to the class but if you’re too preoccupied don’t let me bother you.”

“My name is Em and I’m new. That’s all you really need to know,” I replied, sounding sarcastic. I didn’t mean for it to come off bad but I was irritated. More so with myself than the teacher who interrupted.

“Great,” He muttered back, the edge in his voice sounding like he was ready to retire any second. None of the students were staring at me this time except for the two who were sitting directly in front of me, again. Bella and Edward stared back at me, both looking different levels of shocked. Edward looked like he was shocked and frustrated. Who knew a vampire could be so uptight about a new student with an attitude problem?

“Mr. Cullen, one student not paying attention is enough for me for one day,” our teacher called from right beside our desks. I gave the teacher a quick glance and then looked forward to the front of the room where he had our lesson up on the board. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Edward stiffen and turn around, clearly upset as he clenched his fists.

Besides a few snide whispers among the other students of ‘the new girl must already love Edward’ and ‘god she’s JUST like Bella, amazed by Edward already’, the class went by quickly and I was out the door while the bell was still ringing. The walk home was brutally cold with the wind whipping at my face, numbing it. With the way Edward already seemed interested in me I didn’t want to risk running home and being found out that I was some type of vampire.

Each step I took brought me new anxiety, that tightened my chest with every breath. There was no doubt that my dad would be home now, waiting for me. I had no idea what to expect from him since everything was on the table now. His mood had changed rapidly during our confrontation that I didn’t even know what to expect from him in that sense when I walked through the door.

When I turned down the street I lived on I could see the car out front of our house but I couldn’t remember if it had been there this morning or not. If he was home he would know that I was close by now, he could probably hear my footsteps and he could definitely hear me breathing hard. The door to the house swung open as I started up our front steps, he wasn’t there but I could hear him walking in the kitchen. My ears picked up on the soft sound of clothing moving against wood, telling me he had taken a seat at the kitchen table.

Once I was down the hallway and into the kitchen I could see him. He was sitting with his elbows on the table and his hands clasped in front of his face. He didn’t look up when I came into the kitchen or as I took my time placing my backpack on the island and taking my jacket off. I took a seat at the table across from him and sat silently, waiting for him to talk.

“I didn’t mean for you to ever find out about your mother,” he stated after a while of silence. His face was unreadable, blank. This terrified more than if he was showing any emotion at all.

“Don’t you think it’s unfair of you to have kept that a secret from me? Don’t you think it’s unfair to treat me the way you do? Don’t you think it’s unfair keeping so much from me?” I asked him those questions with a shaky voice. My body felt like it was vibrating, heat spread from my stomach throughout my whole body. I kept myself from crying but the rest of my body was reacting. A slight sweat was building up on the back of my neck and scalp.

“Everything I have ever done was to protect you,” he said a little bit of emotion breaking through. The way he said it made me want to believe him but he had kept me not only from knowing the truth about my mother but also from knowing anything outside of our little bubble. I didn’t want this to keep happening. As much as I hated myself for now knowing what I did to my mother I wasn’t ever going to die so I had an eternity to go out into the world and explore and I wanted to start doing that soon.

“I can understand that to a point but you’ve never talked about my mother, not once. I didn’t even know what a mother was until you put me in school and I saw that almost everyone else had one. I grew up thinking it was only something in movies, I thought mothers were fictional!” My voice wavered in the end, a few tears spilling out and rolling hotly down my cheek. He sat back, crossing his arms across his chest and looked like he was thinking for a minute.

“You seem to have given this a lot of thought, I guess your little run gave you a lot of time to think,” he was calm now, back to showing no emotion. Though there was a slight edge to his voice. I took in a shaky breath, an indication of how worked up I was about this.

“I’ve been thinking about having this conversation with you my whole life. Do you know how hard it is to not have friends? How hard it is to have the only real interaction you have be with your father and even those interactions are few and far between?” My voice was beginning to crack with every emotion I had felt over the last twenty-three years coming to the surface.

“Em,” he let out a long breath, his eyes almost rolling. “You know how important it is to keep our secret! If anyone found out that we were vampires there would be terrible consequences.”

“How would they find out? What harm would it be for me to have a few friends? Do you think I would go to a sleepover and just tell them I was a vampire? Do you think I introduce myself as ‘Em, the vampire’?” This was when I began to raise my voice. The tears were flowing freely down my face as my father was glaring daggers at me.

“Do you know how hard it is to have the love of your life taken away by a child that you never even wanted?” He shouted at me, standing up so quickly the table lurched forward and shoved me back. The chair tipped back from the force and I hit the floor, not bothering to use any of my enhanced abilities to stop myself. I was lying on the floor when he continued. “You have no clue what I’ve been going through every single day since you were born. I can barely look at you, your face is just like hers, you remind me of her so much. It’s unfair that you get to live when she’s dead!”

“Why didn’t you kill me then? Why did you let her have me?” I sobbed out, tears blurring my vision so that I couldn’t see anymore. The only thing that could be heard for a while the crying, each hiccup-like intake of breath echoing off the walls.

“She wouldn’t let me, she wanted you so bad. She wanted to start a family with me. She was so optimistic, she thought she would live and I could turn her into a vampire and we could raise you. The perfect little family that she always wanted and I was willing to give her anything,” his tone was different now, almost like he was crying too but I still couldn’t see him. My tears wouldn’t stop. “I’m going to leave for a while, to give you some time to breathe. You have my cell phone number so if anyone needs you to confirm you have a dad or anything, just call. Follow the rules while I’m gone, I’ll know if you don’t.”

With the last threat he left, the door slamming so hard behind him that the whole house shook. It felt like years before I could calm down and pick myself up off the floor. My body was stiff as I stood up and put the table and chair back where they belonged. That was when my brain decided to rearrange things and not think about or process anything that had just happened. With the couch from the living room destroyed I decided to move some chairs around to make up for it.

Once the house was completely rearranged and the sun had set, I began to cook my myself some dinner. Though my stomach currently felt like lead I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep at any point tonight if I didn’t eat. When the house began to smell like the food I was cooking, I started to feel better. I let myself breathe the delicious scents in as I stirred my food around the pan.

All the movies and tv shows I had seen over the years told me that this is what your home should always smell like. Your parents should be cooking in the kitchen while the kids are scattered around the house doing homework or other activities. Though I was fully grown now, I had been since I was around 7 years old, but now I was considered a real adult and most people at this age don’t live with their parents anymore. I had never had that and I felt like no matter how many years passed I would still crave a family.

The loneliness crept back in as I stared down at the suddenly inedible food in the pan. The once delicious smells were making my stomach churn, my nose crinkling in disgust. Before I could even register it I was dumping my food out in the trash and scrubbing the pan violently in the sink. I hadn’t even finished my second day here in Forks and I was crying again, the tears running down my face as I splashed the sink water everyone in anger.

How could my father do this to me? Why would he spend over two decades with me, raising me, if he hated and resented me so much? He didn’t seem to give a shit about what my mom had wanted since he barely even acknowledged that I was around so he wasn’t doing it for her in any way.

A sudden knock on the back door pulled me out of my angry thoughts. I jumped at the sound making the soapy water in the sink spill over the edge and on the floor, soaking the bottom of my pants and shoes. The sun had set by now so I couldn’t see out onto my porch but my ears picked up on a rapid heartbeat and a familiar scent was beginning to seep in through the crack in the door. When I flicked on the porch light I was proven right, Paul was standing there soaked from the rain I hadn’t even noticed. I slid the door open silently, letting him in.

“What’s wrong?” His hands came to my face as he asked, palms cupping my cheeks and thumbs wiping my tears away. Part of me knew this behavior was odd from someone I had just met-been attacked by, yesterday. But another part of me wanted to be cared for like this, craved the soft, caring touches.

“My dad left to give me some space to breathe for a while,” I choked out trying to calm down. Paul pulled me into a hug and I didn’t protest, pressing my cheek to his bare chest. The heat was coming off of him in waves, practically burning my cheek.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” Paul tried to assure me, rubbing a hand up and down my back while his other was placed on the back of my head. “He is a dick after all.”

We stayed like that for a while, until reality kicked in a told me I shouldn’t be hugging a complete stranger. I couldn’t tell why but I felt a strong pull to Paul. If I had been in my right mind at all yesterday when he was carrying me through the woods or this morning when he walked me home I would’ve realized it earlier. The second he wasn’t touching me a part of me felt empty, having not realized I felt anywhere near whole when we embraced. I hadn’t even know him for a full twenty-four hours yet so I would be keeping these feelings to myself.

“Are you hungry?” I found myself asking him, gesturing awkwardly to my kitchen.

“Actually I came to see if you wanted to have dinner at Emily’s,” he told me looking around my kitchen. “You said you were going to come over after you got off of school but you never did. I didn’t have a real reason to come and check on you since we just met yesterday and I shouldn’t be worried so Emily suggested that I come and invite you to dinner.”

“I’m sorry, I totally forgot about it with everything that happened when I got home,” my cheeks flushed, the heat pooling in them immediately. Maybe my dad kept me from having friends because he knew I’d be a terrible one.

“Don’t even worry about it, I just really wanted to see you again,” he said the last part unsurely, like he didn’t know that he should actually confess that. His cheeks turned a little red after he spoke and he rubbed a hand awkwardly on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I would!” My feet squeaked as I walked forward to go with him. I had forgotten about my soaked pants and shoes. “Let me just change real quick.”

I flew up the stairs as fast as I could, throwing open my bedroom door and searching through my boxes of clothes for new pants and shoes. It felt like I had been up there forever once I came downstairs in my new clothes. Paul was waiting for me outback already in wolf form, his shorts in his mouth.

“I can hold those for you,” reaching out I took the shorts from him and climbed on his back, gripping his fur tightly. He took off as fast as he could through the woods, it was so dark out tonight that even I could barely see. The way he ran showed me how sure of himself he was, whipping between trees and over fallen ones without hesitation.

The sound of rushing water filled my ears as we neared the river. Paul never thought twice as he picked up speed and suddenly we were soaring over the it. The water was rushing violently from the heavy amount of rain we had gotten, mist spraying up at us as we went. We hit the other side of the river with a thud, without missing a beat Paul continued forward until we were outside Emily and Sam’s house. Their small cottage lit up the small clearing it was in. I could hear several people laughing inside as I waited for Paul to turn back and put his clothes back on.

“Come on,” Paul said from beside me. He was now dressed and holding out his hand for me to take. My face flushed as I took his hand, feeling more comfortable than I ever had as we walked into the house with our hands intertwined by our sides.

“Welcome back!” Emily called out to me when we walked in. She crossed from room quickly and was pulling me into a hug away from Paul within seconds. When she pulled back she kept her hands on my shoulders and looked me over. “Is everything all healed?”

“For the most part! My leg is still bothering me a bit,” I told her. She looked passed me over to Paul and gave him a sympathetic look. When I glanced back at him he looked like he was on the verge of tears. So I quickly said, “At least you guys know now that I’m not a dangerous vampire, I’d want to keep my people safe too if I were you guys.”

“What kind of bloodsucker are you then?” A boy asked from the kitchen. He was sitting next to Sam and another girl I had never seen. His face was round and youthful but his eyes were hardened like he’d been through a lot. Even though he was sitting I could tell he was a few inches taller than Paul but not as tall as Sam, the three of them the tallest people I have ever been around. The girl next to him that I had never seen was beautiful, her long black hair was pulled into a braid that she had over her shoulder, a scowl on her face as she looked at me. I wondered if they were two of the other wolves Paul had been telling me about earlier.

“I don’t really know,” I replied honestly, shrugging at all of them. “All I can say is I may be half a vampire but I’ve never killed anyone for their blood.”

“Never?” The girl asked me sounding skeptical. No one except for my mom but this wasn’t the time for that. I shook my head at her, everyone in the room looked a little shocked.

“I do steal things though, like blood bags from hospitals so I don’t have to feed directly off of a human. Sometimes I hunt animals…” I trailed off, looking between everyone’s faces. Beside me Emily grabbed my hand and led me to the table and pulled a chair out for me. I was sitting beside the boy I had never seen with Paul on my other side. I could tell that he didn’t like me already from the way he stiffened when I sat down next to him.

“Enough about this! Em is welcome here anytime and she is to be left alone unless she decides she wants to be interrogated.” Emily informed everyone, her eyes landing on the boy next to me. He huffed and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms,

“Don’t mind, Jacob,” Paul leaned in to whisper in my ear. “He’s still in highschool and in love with a girl who doesn’t love him back.”

“Shut up, Paul!” Jacob barked from beside me, getting up so quickly his chair flew back and slammed into a wall. The girl I didn’t know looked like she had gone through this before, Emily wasn’t paying attention as stirred some food and Paul was laughing next to me so hard the table in front of me was shaking.

“Just sit down, Jacob,” The girl said before Sam could say anything, though he was poised and ready, his fists pressed to the table. He took a few deep breaths and picked the pictures off the floor that he knocked down with his chair and came to sit back down. This time he made sure his chair was further away from me and closer to the girl.

“Thanks, Leah,” Sam told the girl, giving her a nod. She nodded back and then went to get some food like nothing happened. Paul started to put food on my plate without saying anything, then began to hesitate when I looked over at him to ask him why.

“I didn’t know if you felt like you should help yourself or not,” Paul explained, continuing to put more food on my plate for me.

“Thank you, I’ve just never…” I trailed off not knowing how to explain this to him and the rest of the people who were now staring at me.

“You’ve never had dinner before?” Jacob asked snidely beside me, a laugh coming out of him.

“I’ve always eaten dinner alone, my father doesn’t eat and he’s my only family,” I began to explain. What I said made the expression on Jacobs face falter, some food threatening to fall out of his mouth as it hung open.

“Haven’t you ever been invited to a friend’s house?” Leah questioned, stopping to ask before she took the forkful of food she had.

“I’ve never had a friend,” I told her quietly. My life was starting to sound pathetic to them and I could tell. I felt Paul’s hand press against my back and rub gently. Everyone was silent for a couple minutes, quietly taking bites of their food. I pushed mine around my plate, taking small bites here and there. Even Jacob was quiet next to me, his face no longer pinched in disgust at my presence.

“Hell yeah another blood sucker free day in the books!” A voice giddily announced walking through the door. I stiffened waiting for them to notice me. The person who announced it stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on me, the three boys following in behind him stopped too and followed his gaze to me. The youngest boy who followed in the first boy looked between Paul and I and gave me a small smile and a wave.

“Sorry to ruin that for you,” I dead panned, our eyes never breaking contact. The young boy who smiled at me laughed quietly to himself, the two others cracking a smile.

“Yeah, you should be,” He said walking over to the table and grabbing a seat directly across from me. As he filled his plate he began to talk to me, “I’m Jared, by the way. You must be Em, the girl Paul im-” Paul growled and kicked him under the table. Jared and Paul stared each other down for a minute before Jared finished filling his plate and began eating. I took a bite of my food as Paul calmed himself down, he didn’t seem angry but worried about whatever Jared was going to say. Though all he could’ve been saying was that Paul attacked me but he did seem to get upset when that was brought up.

“I’m Seth and these two are Quil and Embry,” the youngest boy said with a mouthful of food. He smiled at me and some food fell from his mouth and down his shirt. He began to laugh, causing more food to spill out of his mouth. I slapped a hand over my mouth as I tried to stifle my giggles. That’s how the rest of the dinner went, filled with laughter and happiness. They showed me how a real family was supposed to be and surprisingly I wasn’t sad, I was the happiest I have ever been.

After everyone was done eating we sat around Emily and Sam's small living room talking and laughing more. Everyone except for Jacob, who was sitting outside on the porch in the dark, were sharing stories. Even Leah, who had been scowling lame when I arrived, seemed to be warming to me as I sat quietly next to Paul on a couch. The heat was radiating off of Paul in waves, warming up my body as I sat snugly against him. I felt happy here, at peace. A bunch of people I had just me were accepting me into their home, into their family. Between the heat and the melodic laughter my eyes began to get heavy and before I could even register it, I was asleep.

Tagged: @angelenemies @twilightxcx

#paul lahote #paul lahote fic #paul lahote smut #sam uley #jacob black #quil ateara #embry call #seth clearwater #leah clearwater #jared cameron #twilight fic #twilight #twilight fan fic #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn

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tyler-blogs · 5 years ago

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Long Post About Adulthood and Not Being Ready

Internally, I feel like I'm in a constant battle between ambition and...something else that I can't quite name.

I want desperately to make a difference in this world. I don't care if my name ends up in a history book. I don't need that kind fo legacy. I just want to die knowing that this world is a noticeably better place because of decisions I made.

That's part of why I became a teacher. There are other reasons, but my desire to help people is a big one. But it's also causing me to look beyond the classroom, because American teachers, for better or worse, have to work within a racist, classist, sexist, and generally flawed system. And although teachers make the biggest impact on students directly (few people have a "favorite principal" from childhood), they have less control over the system. Especially in states with strict anti-union laws.

So to help make the systemic changes we need, I need to become a principal or superintendent. To do that, I need to go back and get my master's degree and maybe event a doctorate, eventually. I'm not worried about whether or not I CAN do that. I definitely can. I'll kill that dissertation one day.

But I'm also just so exhausted.

In a perfect world, I'd pay off my student loans (which will be in 2027 if I apply for the $5,000 teacher student loan forgiveness), THEN go get my master's (and probably more student loans). I will have taught for 9 years, spend 2ish getting my master's, then move into a building level admin role (assistant principal or something) after 11+ years as a classroom teacher. I liked that timeline. That was my plan when I graduated, and my husband was on board with it (because I don't need his approval but it's good to have your partner in crime be on the same wavelength as you, ya know?)

Then I got my first teaching job, and now basically nobody else supports that plan, including my husband. My first year at my school, I got an Educator of the Year award (which is unheard of!!!). I've contributed to a pedagogy book that will be published in a few months. I got voted as favorite staff member by my colleagues in May, the end of my 2nd year. My district is paying for me to take classes so I can be certified to teach ESL students. I've only been teaching for 2 years, but my assistant principal, who I love and consider a friend, "jokingly" asked when I was going to get my degree so I could be Dean of Students. I've taught professional development sessions to colleagues who have been teaching longer than I've been alive, and those colleagues voluntarily attended so I guess they like me. I've become my building's NEA union representative. I'm on my district's new "Virtual Learning Taskforce" that we set up to create guidelines for this school year since we are going 100% virtual until COVID cases go down in my county. My resume is getting so long I can't fit it all even on 2 pages. I'm designing websites and sponsoring clubs and mentoring new teachers and I just don't feel comfortable with the pace of ANY of this.

I want these things. I do. I just didn't expect them to happen so quickly. I was taught in college that your first 5 years as a teacher, you're a mess. Well, apparently I don't look like a mess. I feel like one, though.

So Blake, my husband, started trying to get me to rethink my timeline. Maybe instead of starting my master's after I teach for about 10 years, I could start it around year 7, and then have it done by year 10. And then he started looking up programs for me to apply to. He found 2 and I talked to some colleagues and I've chosen the one I want. I know I can get in. But I'm not applying yet. Because I don't! Feel! Ready!

Why don't I feel ready? I don't know! I really don't. Maybe I don't trust myself? This is what goes through my head when people encourage me to step up, lead people, and go get my master's sooner rather than later:

There was a man in the building where I student taught who said the worst principal he ever had was a young woman who only taught for 5 years before becoming an admin. What if I end up like her? What if I don't have enough experience in the classroom, and my teachers don't trust in my abilities?

Why am I being given all these opportunities? Do I deserve them? I'm a baby. I'm fucking 24. I have 2 years of job experience. Why do these people trust me to do this?

What if I'm taking opportunities from my BIPOC colleagues? Do we really need another white high school principal in a majority minority school district?

Does my awareness of the above bullet point, and the fact that I do try to listen to BIPOC voices, and am doing this specifically so I can dismantle systems like the school to prison pipeline and subpar education received by poor and BIPOC children, make up for the fact that I'd be another white high school principal?

When I sabotage my own success one day by having a manic or depressive episode, what will happen?

Am I really doing this for the right reasons?

Will I miss the classroom too much and regret my decision?

Why do I have the audacity to think I can make a difference at all? I'm not special. I'm not better than anyone else. So why does it have to be me? Is this all secretly about my ego?

So yeah. I just had to write this out. And idk what this accomplished. I still haven't decided what I'll do, but I'll probably finish my ESL certification in May 2021, and then have to start my master's that Fall because everyone will push me to and I don't want to let them down.

#long post #text post #teaching thoughts #thoughts #tyler's thoughts #ramblings

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 7 years ago

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Schneider + the romances of Penelope Alvarez: meta ramble

So I’ve seen a lot of people discuss the ways that Schneider and Victor mirror each other in S1. And I think that in terms of major story arcs, that comparison is the most important, but we don’t talk enough about the way Schneider mirrors the best aspects of every guy Penelope goes out with.

Victor:

likes to seem tougher than he is

believes nothing is more important than looking out for his family

except maybe his patriotic ideals

struggles with trauma and addiction

Schneider does all of the above, but in much less toxic ways. He’s a big marshmallow who wants to seem like a tough guy--except not if it means hurting people. His pride isn’t more important to him than other people’s feelings. Ever.

He would do anything for the Alvarez family, and they’re not even his. Except they are, because they mean the whole entire world to him. He’ll bust in without hesitation to protect Elena from being alone with a boy who might try to take advantage of her, he’ll have a panic attack over the slightest possibility that Alex might not be safe in his charge, and he’ll let Penelope stab him where it hurts without fighting back if he think it’s what she needs. Because they’re his family.

And unlike Victor, that’s all that he needs to know. It doesn’t matter what they’re dealing with or who they turn out to be, he’s there. Above everything else, he’s always right there.

Victor goes back into active combat because 9/11 makes him feel like he owes it to his country, and to his daughter. I totally get that, for his character, and it helps explain him a bit better when we learn about that in S2. But he’s comfortable making that decision on everyone’s behalf, knowing the risks and knowing that he and his wife had a plan--which didn’t include him deciding to put his country and his fears for his baby’s safety ahead of everything else.

Schneider decides to become an American citizen despite benefiting greatly from being a rich Canadian living in the US...and he does so because Elena convinces him that he might risk losing them if he doesn’t. And the only moment he seems actually worried about the dangers of outing himself as undocumented is when he realizes that getting sent back to Canada would mean never seeing them again.

Victor’s family and love of America is why he does things that change his entire family’s future--without them getting a say.

Schneider’s family and love of America are completely intertwined, and it’s his love for them that motivates his best decisions--not just risky ones.

The decision to go back into the Army is what messes Victor up, with the addictions and the trauma. And his pride and need to be ‘strong’ means he refuses to face it and deal with it, because he’d rather not seem weak by admitting he has a problem or needs help or can’t fix himself on his own.

Schneider’s emotionally barren childhood and loss of what little support system he had as a young adult gave him the trauma that fed into his addictions. And while his is nothing like Victor’s, you can still see it haunts him.

He’s desperate to give and receive love, but terrified of losing it, which leads him to bounce between ‘no strings’ relationships that don’t scare him but do hurt...and considering marriage to anybody who’ll have him, while he puts all of his love on a family that he has no actual rights to, simply because they let him.

Where Victor won’t admit his problems, Schneider goes to rehab six times. And he’s honest about how hard it is to stay sober. Where Victor insists he’s right just because he’s the dad, or the husband, Schneider will apologize when he’s called out--or correct himself. Victor isn’t willing to seem vulnerable or ‘weak’--even when he tries to win Penelope back it’s with smirking bravado and lies. Schneider is willing to rehash the most pathetic, broken parts of his own history to give Penelope courage.

Victor was Lydia’s adored son in law for almost two decades, and when she might die he’s nowhere to be found. Schneider gives her mood lighting and tries not to cry at the thought of losing her.

Schneider doesn’t share Penelope’s culture, like Victor does...but he makes an even larger effort to try, because of his privilege. He learns Spanish, he joins in their meals and events and does his best to be a good ally.

Max:

focuses his life on helping people

loves children and is very family focused

is willing to have a casual relationship, but really wants more than that

charms Penelope’s family, especially her mom

Again, Schneider shares all these traits, they just manifest differently.

He doesn’t need to work, but he uses his time to mentor kids, or teach exercise classes, or give his entire apartment complex the love and attention they each need. He spends his time figuring out, unasked and unpaid, just because he cares, what will make each tenant happy beyond the landlord business he’s actually called for. He doesn’t have the specific type of strength that saw Max (and Victor) through war, but he has the same drive to help others.

Max enjoys Penelope’s kids, and has always dreamed of having a family of his own. In the one exchange we see him have with Alex at the dance, he seems pretty good with him, too.

Schneider claims he’s never really thought about kids for himself, and I think that whether he really hasn’t, or he claims he hasn’t because he already decided long ago that he’s not dad material, it’s easy to understand why he doesn’t have kids of his own. His parents growing up were completely disastrous--neglectful, distant, cruel, inconsistent. His best role models were family employees.

But whatever his thoughts on having kids of his own, he’s really good with them. He supports Elena and looks after Alex and is trusted to watch tenants’ grandbabies---a really high level of trust, especially placed in someone who can come off as careless or incompetent.

And so as a guy who has endless piles of love to give, who learned that he couldn’t expect to consistently receive it, Schneider is completely obsessed with the Alvarez family. He puts them in his art projects, he joins all their family gatherings, he tries to contribute and help out and makes them the center of his world.

He doesn’t need to have kids, to start his own family, because he already found the one he wants. And they let him keep them.

When it comes to his relationship with Penelope, because that’s how we know him, Max is open to a casual relationship from the start, because he likes Penelope and it’s what she wants. But the moment she starts to show signs of wanting things to be more serious, he’s more than ready. It’s actually what he’s wanted all along. He also says ‘I love you’ first, and is the first to bring up kids.

Schneider has casual relationships only, and extolls their benefits to Penelope, but like Max he’s really open to more, and trying to follow his partners’ lead. He considers marriage twice in two seasons, in one case with a woman whose name he doesn’t even know--this is a guy desperate to belong to someone.

He tries to get more affectionate with his non-girlfriend then does his best to look like it doesn’t hurt when she rejects him. The moment she claims him as her boyfriend, in complete opposition to what they agreed their affair is, his response isn’t to try putting things back the way they were. He leaps right to a proposal, as though he was just waiting for her to decide they could be more.

Max wins Penelope’s mom over before they even admit to dating, and Lydia holds him up as the ideal specimen of a man forever after. But despite their styles being totally different, and Lydia coming to see Schneider as more of a sweet idiot who she adopted...before there was a Max to literally sweep her off her feet, Lydia was groping a shirtless Schneider and getting him to check out her ass in public. If he weren’t already family, Schneider would almost certainly win Lydia’s approval as a tall, handsome, charming guy, in spite of not being Cuban.

Ben

supports Penelope through her coming to terms with Elena’s identity

tolerates her mother’s quirky intrusion into their dates

respects Penelope’s boundaries

We have less to work with here, as Ben is only around for two episodes. But he’s the first man we see Penelope date, and it’s very telling that the basic reasons he’s appealing to her are also characteristics Schneider shares.

Because of his own experience with his brother, Ben is able to reassure Penelope that she’s still a good mom and she can love her daughter while she works out her own issues. This is how they bond, enough so that she’s actually willing to date him when she’s been hesitant thus far.

Funnily enough, though, after Elena comes out to her and she realizes she feels weird, where does she go? To Schneider, at one in the morning. Before she meet Ben and he gives her hope that things will get better, it’s Schneider who talks her through her feelings in the immediate aftermath.

Ben never makes it to the stage where he would be expected to meet Lydia. But she intrudes on their dates virtually anyway, even hijacking his phone to keep tabs on them. He is pretty cool about that, where another guy might be bothered by it.

At the same time, Schneider’s entanglement with their family means that Lydia sometimes does the same to him, meddling with his one night stands and sussing out his potential future with a woman he’s willing to take dance tips for. He never minds even a little bit.

One of Ben’s best qualities (that we know of, anyway) before Penelope breaks up with him is his respect for her boundaries. She doesn’t have recent dating experience when they start going out, and her self-imposed rules are a little old-fashioned, but he goes with them. Even when he makes jokes about the number of dates remaining until they take things to the next level, it’s clear he’ll wait.

Schneider wanders around her apartment in a towel, agrees to play her husband at a car dealership, and intimates that he would willingly have sex with her if she wanted because he’s ‘a good friend’...but he is completely respectful of her, he never crosses any lines or even edges near them. No uninvited touches, no lewd remarks, no blatant ogling. With Penelope, he is a total gentleman.

Schneider:

is always there for not just Penelope, but both her children and her mom

is the one she trusts with secrets she won’t even tell her family or her dates

includes her in his hobbies and his relationships, and supports hers

doesn’t lie to her, or encourage anyone else to lie to her

loves her unconditionally, with no expectations or demands

TL;DR Schneider is the guy who Penelope can’t see has everything she’s looking for in a partner, because he’s already standing right there next to her.

#feel free to add to this if you have additional thoughts #schneider #alvareider #odaat #one day at a time #penelope x schneider #schneider x penelope #meta #I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS OKAY #rambling #long post

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tancong · 7 years ago

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Gency Week: Day 7

And the fic is finally finished along with gency week. I forgot how good it feels to finish a multi-chapter fic. It’s been a really fun week, thank you to all those involved for hosting this wonderful week with all its wonderful prompts. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did~

And now, I return to hell in college with my 5 classes ;u; Perhaps one day, I’ll return to work on my next fic series.

Title: Four Halves Make A Whole Theme: Family Word Count: 1873 Rating: G (for God there’s fluff everywhere)

It would not be for another half-decade or so that they would finally consider starting their own family. Angela was all too busy with the ascension ceremony and her studies about magic, along with learning about everything else that was needed for ruling a kingdom. Her husband was fortunately gifted with the knowledge of the inner workings of the streets, allowing him to appeal to the people rather easily. He had that going for him at least.

She felt bad for making him sit in on so many conferences that he hardly had a clue about, with the council people very purposefully using big words and archaic terms to mess with him. However, Genji was not one to surrender easily, or at all. He studied books after books through the nights with his wife snuggled up to him, knowing that he shouldn’t be a useless burden to her forever.

The day that he very offhandedly dissed a counselor’s use of resources and casually suggested a solution that would eventually come to reform the entire system for the better, he was showered with a lot of kisses after the meeting and rewarded for his cleverness with yet another sleepless night, only without the books.

Eventually, there came a day when they found themselves with a king declaring war on them. Or more specifically, Genji for stealing his wife. It was probably one of the potential suitors she had met who got his head so far up his ass that it actually came back out of his neck again.

That being said, the issue of having a significant kingdom declaring war with them, no matter how opposed their people may be, was still rather serious. There would undoubtedly be a battle or two and might end up ruining both their reputations, not to mention their trade routes and any casualties during the battle.

As such, Genji offered to go there in person and talk the man down. While many of the counselors opposed, having finally gained a respect for their king, he left anyway without regardless of what they had to say. Angela was also left behind, left to pout and mope at being left behind and all alone for the first time in a whole year.

It only really took her three days to recall what exactly her husband was and what he could do. But by then, it was much too late to stop him. However, it was not as if she needed to. In the single day he spent in the capital under disguise, he had found out that the previous king had a much more capable heir who was unfortunate enough to be female and younger than the prince. All that remained was for him to cause the prince to look out the window one night and accidentally fall off. His fault for living in such a high castle.

He was very promptly chastised and met with very angry yelling in their room, before Angela hugged him tightly and told him to never leave her without telling her again. Realizing that the problem was not in his plan for the fact that he abandoned his wife, Genji took all the necessary measures to reassure her that he did love her and that he would do it again. A candlelit dinner, a long bath, and even a new set of undergarments which she very generously modeled for him that night.

They had various problems in the following years, some of which they dealt with peacefully and some which were strangely dealt with by some unfortunate accident or another. He had to do some freelancing assassination for other friendly kingdoms as well, to ensure that everyone didn’t connect the dots between the relation of conflict towards his kingdom and a random death of his adversary.

Eventually, things settled down enough that they began to think more about themselves. They had many advisors and trustworthy men and women helping with every aspect of running the country. While their opinion still greatly mattered as the rulers, having others to contribute different ideas and views was very useful. It was an idea that Genji proposed to the council in an attempt to get people more specialized in different fields as to have a better system of balancing power around the throne. Just one of the many things that he used from his time of being an assassin.

Actually, Reinhardt found himself with a new partner, the retired knight turned assassin. They ended up working together as instructors and advisors of the army. With them and Genji, Angela had never felt the need to fear for her life. There was only one occasion when an assassin tried to hurt her. In the time it took for her magic to detect the hostile presence, her two veteran bodyguards had already drawn their swords and her husband was already busy pinning the culprit against a wall to interrogate him about his employer.

And so, they decided to have a child. Actually, they ended up having two. After their first child had been around for a year, they realized how wonderful it was and wasted no time in having another one. The elder one was female, who had a talent for finding her dad despite him utilizing various assassin skills to hide during hide-and-seek. Eventually, he resorted to climbing on top of the roof, much to the amusement of his wife, only for them both to realize that their daughter had inherited flight. Even if only temporarily.

After a near accident that gave them a nostalgic reminder of their past, they began to teach her how to use her skills in earnest. Much to her mother’s disappointment, she took more to her father, opting to learn various combat skills after seeing him practice.

As such, the castle staff soon found out about Genji’s past, something that he had kept hidden from them all that time. It was inevitable that they would question how the eldest child of the Shimada bloodline managed to evade etiquette lesson and got access to the kitchen 24/7.

As for their second child, he was the opposite. Somewhat reserved and opting to be more studious, he stayed by his mother’s side and watched as she used various magic to restrain her rampant daughter and heal up wounds. They soon found that he had a large potential for magic, being able to use the same magic as his mother despite still being quite young.

The two children got along as well as any siblings would, with bickering and bullying aplenty. However, they looked out for each other. Before the younger would gain his confidence as a magician as a young man, his older sister did not hold back a punch to defend him. They were allowed to go to a public academy under the watch of Reinhardt’s friend, though he was hardly needed for their protection. It turned out that the kingdom loved the two children to death, so much so that talking badly about them in the slightest at a bar would be enough to start a brawl. No one wanted to harm them and they got to enjoy the academy as anyone would.

Angela was glad that they got to experience life as kids, not as royalties. She had always been sheltered and felt that life was always so empty before Genji came along. Their children got to experience it all. Crushes, bullying, terrible education rectified by superb tutoring at home, shitty food, and most importantly of all, friendships. It only took their parents a talk with the academy administrator, a close friend of Angela’s father, and the kids proving their own worth for others to see them not as the children of the throne but as children.

Eventually, they grew up and became close to being adults. They began to learn more about their parents' jobs, though it was obviously the younger one who was more studious and diligent in learning about everything.

“Sis, I thought I would find you here. I didn’t even have to use magic this time. Now, will you come to the lesson?”

She simply pouted, flipping backward off the rafters to hang upside down to look at her younger brother. “But it’s so terribly boring. It’s the weekend and I want to go out to see my old friends. I bet they’re out doing something fun, like uhm .. preparing for the festival!”

At the excitement of recalling the upcoming festival, she found herself falling off, only to be caught inches from hitting the ground with a sigh from the brother. “Isn’t it the elder one’s job to watch out for their sibling, not vice versa?” he thought to himself.

“In any case, I’m aware that you have some poor innocent soul that you somehow convinced to go with you but you should ask mom and dad first, should you not?”

“They said it would be fin- Wait what do you mean poor innocent soul? What’s wrong with me asking my best friend to come to the festival with me?”

“Because I know for sure that even if the fireworks went off a million times, you’d never confess your feelings to her.”

There was a silence before the older sister’s cheeks would heat up, punching her sibling’s chest repeatedly (albeit gently, at least by her standards). “H-How do you know about that?? You better not tell mom and dad.”

The younger brother simply smirked, “I took a wild guess. Oh boy, she is really going to suffer isn’t she? The poor girl has been hopelessly in love with you for what … a year now?”

She simply sat there brooding for a bit over that thought before her eyes regained their fire. “Oh, as if you’d be making a move on that girl you like. What was her name again … Elenia?”

His eyes widened, looking around in panic before grabbing his sister by the collar, “Where did you get that name? I was sure we never even talked anywhere near you.”

“Your diary could use a slightly better magical lock and a better hiding place than under the false bottom of your desk drawer.”

Genji would later relay all this information to his wife, who would laugh and hug him tightly, talking with each other through the night about their memories. About all their secret meetings and endeavors, their strange meeting, and that wonderful festival that they could never forget.

Theirs was a strange life led by a strange fate. A princess whose life felt dictated by a single path by her heritage, all but resigned to her fate as being a pretty face for some unworthy prince to claim. An assassin whose life existed in only absolutes, kill or be killed, and the cold, merciless solitude of his path. In a single failed assassination, they found themselves in a brand new life that they could have never imagined. A life of happiness and fulfillment. One where they would never have to spend another night alone or afraid. A life where they could live with their children, watching them grow and become the next chapter of their family’s story.

The love story of a princess and her assassin.

#gency week #gency #emergenji #genji #mercy #gency fic #gency fanfic

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accio-ambition · 7 years ago

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Knowing Little Notes

For those, like me, who are only interested in the Super Bowl for the commercials and the halftime show, I come to you this overly commercialized day with my contribution to @captainswanbigbang‘s CS Little Bang. A super special shout out to @technicallysizzlingcloud for beta-ing this monstrosity and @mrs-emma-swan-jones for a lovely art piece. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Emma Swan doesn’t do kids. Or, more accurately, she hasn’t done kids. But when a friend in need asks her to do kids - more specifically teach them - Emma dips her toes into the education field. Her first foray into substitute teaching is for Mr K. Jones, who proves to be a great asset in this whole “learning to teach” thing. It helps Emma understand what her friends get out of the job: that the best life lessons sometimes come from students and a nice little note. Rated: T for language Read it here or on AO3, whatever floats your boat

By trade - if you could call it that - Emma is a bail bondsperson. She chases after skips who’ve failed to pay her back: an irony in the fact that she has nothing, money or otherwise. She’s got an apartment the size of a comfortable closet and enough to eat takeout on occasion. Still, it doesn’t require a college degree that she doesn’t have and it’s active enough for her. It’s great for the lifestyle she leads. She can find a gig in any city, no matter where she might find herself. It’s awesome.

Until it isn’t.

She’s sprained her ankle one too many times and this time around she’s got a broken wrist to accompany with it. Her skip decided to get a little rougher with her than usual, slamming her wrist into a granite counter. She’s lucky it was only her wrist with the heels she was wearing.

Still, a broken wrist means a cast: which means she’s out of the bail bonds game for at least the next two months, probably longer. Her office won’t pay her rent or her bills, to the surprise of no one, and she’s not moving out of the only little square of the world she’s ever been able to call her own.

That’s how she falls into substitute teaching.

Mary Margaret tells her about it one evening soon after Emma gets her cast on, taking on the role of pseudo-mother caring for her healing daughter.

(She even signs the cast, and Emma can’t quite quell the feeling of a little girl excited to have everyone at school sign her cast.)

It’s an easy way to make money, Mary Margaret insists - solid hours, a schedule that changes, yet stays the same and the properly-trained regular teacher comes up with all the plans.

“All you have to do is follow them,” her friend tells her.

She helps Emma cut the plastic bag off her arm after showering all the sweat and hospital grime of her body. A timer goes off in the kitchen, Emma’s rickety oven on the verge of catching fire with the casserole Mary Margaret’s got cooking away in it. With an thrilled little noise, she goes off to check dinner.

(Emma is consistently surprised she isn’t actually Mary Margaret’s child with her husband David. With the way they all act around each other, they might as well be.)

“I don’t know,” Emma shouts into the other room, ripping the remainder of the shopping bag off her arm. “I don’t really do kids.”

“You haven’t really done kids,” Mary Margaret corrects her. The top of her head pokes from around the door jamb to glare at the other woman. “That doesn’t mean you can’t do them.”

She disappears again and Emma can hear the oven door screech open, slam shut, and her friend place whatever was heating up on the stovetop. A drawer opens and Mary Margaret returns to her living room to take the seat next to Emma’s, an empathetic expression on her face.

“Give it a try. I’ll put your name in the system for some coworkers of mine and you can try it out. If you don’t like it, you don’t like it. But at least it’ll get you out of the house.”

“And the money,” Emma adds, pointing a finger down the plane of her face. “Gotta pay rent somehow.”

Mary Margaret’s hand comes to rest on the hand of hers that isn’t wrapped up in plaster. “We can help you out this month if you need it,” she offers. “You just figure yourself out first and then we can deal with everything else.”

“Thanks Mary Margaret.” Sighing, Emma relaxes into the couch cushion, enjoying the delicious smell wafting from the kitchen. Her eyes slide shut for a moment, merely taking in the aroma mixed with the warmth of her seat, and the nice little cocktail of pain meds she’s got in her system right now. When she opens her eyes, Mary Margaret’s expression has morphed into something weirder, like she’s holding back a secret, which she never does.

(She tries, bless her honest heart, but Emma knows from experience that if you share a secret with Mary Margaret, you share a secret with David and all of his work friends, and sooner rather than later, all of Storybrooke knows.)

“You don’t happen to have an ulterior motive, do you?” she asks. Hesitantly, Mary Margaret shakes her head, but her eyes widen and she’s biting her lip and her cheeks are starting to grow red.

She’s lying.

“Mary Margaret,” Emma chides, drawing out the final syllable of her name.

Her friend shrugs. “Well, you need a gig,” she says slowly. “And I’m going to need a long-term sub in the near future.”

Long term? Not that she didn’t already suspect it, but now Emma knew something was off. In all the days and months and years that she’s known Mary Margaret, she’s never known her to skip out on school. She loved those kids as if she had carried and borne them herself, every single one of them. “How near?” Emma asks.

Shrugging, a small grin starts to grow on Mary Margaret’s’ lips. “About five or six months,” she says. That only further confuses Emma. Mary Margaret giggles and slaps her knee. “Oh, did I forget to mention I’m pregnant?”

Emma’s silent with shock, her jaw dropped. She’s not quite sure why: it is the next natural chapter in their story. Both of them would be - will be, she supposes now - wonderful parents. Mary Margaret with the summers off and David as overprotective as he is make the perfect combination. Not to mention they’ve both got so much love, they aren’t sure where to put it.

And she gets to be cool Aunt Emma. All the perks of having a kid with the option of returning him or her to their biological parents.

But her silence apparently lasts too long as Mary Margaret’s expression begins to fall. It seems she’s taken Emma’s moment to process the wrong way. “Look, just try it out,” she insists, her hands coming up between them. “If you don’t like it, I’ll find another sub, but you’re going to love it and you’ll love my class this year. I promise, I don’t trust anyone else but someone close to me with-”

Emma interrupts her unnecessarily hurried words with a hug despite both sets of knees impeding them. “I’m so happy for you,” she says into the fabric of Mary Margaret’s shirt shoulder.

It sounds like Mary Margaret’s crying, or trying not to and failing to do so. She’s making little sobbing-hiccup noises into Emma’s ear.

When they pull away from each other, Emma’s proven right: Mary Margaret’s eyes are red around the rims and she wipes at what may or may not have been full-fledged tears. Emma nods, feeling her smile grow on her face.

“Yeah, I’ll give it a try, but don’t you worry about what comes after.” Taking her hands, Emma squeezes them. “You’re having a baby!”

Mary Margaret nods enthusiastically, still wiping at the remnants of tears. “Yeah.”

“How’d David react?” Emma asks excitedly. If she knows David at all, she knows that his reaction to the news of impending fatherhood would rank high on the list of adorable videos on YouTube.

“Oh, I’ve got a video.” Mary Margaret digs beneath her for her phone, chuckling the entire time. Once she’s unearthed it, she unlocks the phone and hands it over to Emma. “It’s only the latter part of his reaction, but it was wonderful.”

In the video, David’s already kneeling on the ground, his face painfully contorted into something precious, with a little onesie in his hands.

“It’s a Huskies jersey,” Mary Margaret explains. “It’s got Nolan and the number three on the back.”

“That’s too cute,” Emma replies, her eyes still transfixed on the phone screen. It’s sweet, even if the jersey idea is a little cliche for her taste. UConn’s basketball team is David’s favorite, a relic of his glory days of college, and it was the first round of the 2004 NCAA tournament that he met Mary Margaret in a Boston bar. The Huskies went on to win that year, and, rumor has it, David proposed the night they did.

She definitely spots tears rolling down David’s face as Mary Margaret’s recorded giggle comes from the speaker. He keeps asking, “Really? Are you serious? No joke?” and Emma can’t help but feel her own eyes begin to water.

(She blames it on the painkillers, messing with her natural emotional state.)

Thankfully, the video ends, and she has to take a moment to collect herself before turning back to her friend. During her life, Emma’s friends have been few and far between, but since the moment she accidentally spilled coffee on Mary Margaret’s skirt while running after a skip, she’s known the woman’s heart was two sizes too big. Her reaction had been to worry about Emma and her hand drenched in scalding coffee over the fabric dripping down her legs and the stain ruining it.

“You’re going to be an amazing mother, Mary Margaret.”

Mary Margaret’s smile is watery, her eyes shining with joy. “I have as much confidence in you as you have in me,” she assures Emma. With a final pat to her hand, she stands and begins to pack up her things. “You need to rest now. I’ll text you the details of a job and you can ask all your questions later.” She points toward the kitchen. “Dinner should be cool and ready to eat in five minutes. Just throw some tin foil on top and put it in the fridge when you’re done.”

Emma hums, the thought of sleep quite inviting, as she settles into the couch cushions. “Thanks, Mom,” she mumbles. “Congratulations.”

0000

Of course, the classroom door is locked when Emma finally finds it, which forces her to wander about even longer until she discovers the front office again. When the custodian graciously opens the door and flips on the lights, she’s only got about fifteen minutes until first bell.

“Great,” she mumbles to herself. “Off to a great start.”

She’s still got the cast on her wrist, weeks one through four checked off on her road to recovery. At her last visit, the doctor told her things were looking good, but due to her age, the bones were resetting slower than normal.

(That’s something every late 20s, early 30s woman wants to hear. “You’re too old for your bone to move like they used to, so hope you like not being able to wash your hands properly.”)

But for now, Emma’s got her first gig as a substitute teacher to tackle. Hopefully more in the psychological and mental aspects and not so much in the physical one. According to the text Mary Margaret sent her last week, she’s subbing in on a fifth grade class today.

Better for novice subs, she wrote. They’re pretty smart and they know how to use the bathroom by themselves.

Didn’t know that was an issue I might be facing, Emma responded, but awesome.

As Mary Margaret had informed her, the teacher’s left the lesson plans on his desk, front and center, an array of worksheets and handouts surrounding it. This teacher, a Mr Jones, has labeled every pile with the period it had to be handed out with a sticky note. It was all so precise, she can’t quite believe that this man is a teacher and not the commander of an army. If she was a more ambitious and less anxious person at the moment, she might pull out a ruler and measure exactly how far apart each pile is from the other.

(She’s willing to bet it’s equivalent all the way around.)

Granted, she thinks as she quickly skims the plans and shuffles the piles around, keeping order in a classroom might be worse than any war zone at certain times.

She reaches the end of her agenda for the day and finds a handwritten note added after the typed postscript asking for notes throughout the day.

‘Many thanks for helping a dashing rapscallion out. Mary Margaret spoke quite highly of you. They’re good kids. You’ll do wonderfully. K. Jones.’

Emma sighs and slumps down into the rolling chair behind his desk. “Well at least he’s confident enough for the both of us,” she grumbles to herself.

Flicking her eyes to her watch, she finds she’s still got a few minutes. She breathes deeply, mentally giving herself a pep talk while taking in the rest of the room. What looks like a reading nook - bookshelves and small bean bags - crowds the corner next to her. Cabinets and closets line the other side of the room until they reach the door diagonal to her current seat. There’s a question of the day written on the board, awaiting students to answer it in order to inform her of their attendance. Each clustered table of desks has a sign dangled over it, what look game pieces from Battleship, if Emma’s not mistaken.

In front of her, it’s a surprisingly clean desk, save for the teaching supplies K. Jones has left out for her. A pencil holder with a few writing utensils and some scissors is the only teacher-like decoration - the only decoration at all, save for two framed photos. One of the frames holds the picture of a boat and the other is of two men on what’s presumably the same boat. They’ve both got dark hair, one more so than the other. They’re both quite handsome, with striking blue eyes and wide grins across their faces.

The mess of the maniac - whether K. Jones be the curly haired one or the black haired one in the photo - is behind the desk: piles of papers and trays, books and clipboards. How anyone could find a single thing in that mess, Emma decides as she stands, is a fucking miracle. She doesn’t even want to contemplate that part of teaching, the grading and commenting and whatever.

She’s writing her name toward the top of the chalkboard when she hears “Who are you?” from behind her. Emma turns to find a boy, backpack heavy and jacket nearly swallowing him up, standing in the doorway.

“Are you our substitute?” he asks.

Emma nods, gulping away her nerves. “Yeah.” Her voice wavers, so she clears her throat and tries again. “Yeah, Mr Jones is out today. I’m Ms Swan.”

The kid walks up to a desk at the cluster of tables beneath the aircraft carrier sign, close to the front, and sets his backpack on top. “Cool.” He says it so nonchalantly that Emma wonders if she was that calm and collected when she had a substitute at school. She remembers bits and pieces of elementary school, most memories tainted by bad group homes or unworthy foster parents. To be honest, thinking back on it now, Emma’s pretty sure she spent most of her grade school days daydreaming in fairy tales.

The zip of the boy’s backpack wakes her up a little bit, and Emma shakes her head. As he’s putting books and journals in his desk, he asks, “Are we gonna watch movies all day?”

Emma chuckles, setting the chalk down on the blackboard shelf. “Sorry, kid, but Mr Jones actually left us a bunch of stuff to do.” He groans, the arms of his jacket shushing as his shoulders slump. “Don’t worry, there’s a game or two, I think,” she assures him. The boy goes on, grumbling to himself as he hangs up his jacket and backpack. Curiosity strikes her as she shoots another glance at the classroom clock. “What are you doing here? I didn’t hear the bell ring.”

“My mom’s the principal, so we come in early and I go and count the buses.” He pushes his chair in beneath his desk, then comes up to her with an outstretched hand. “I’m Henry.”

“Oh, cool,” she says, very adultlike and not at all frightened by the fact that the principal’s son is in her class today. “Hi.”

He stares, assessing her with his wide brown eyes. Henry squints at her and Emma can’t help but try and swallow away the lump that’s gotten stuck in her throat. “You’re a new substitute, aren’t you?” he inquires slowly.

Guilty, Emma grimaces. “Is it that easy to tell?”

Henry shrugs, finally releasing her hand. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” He points toward a couple of desks in the back of the room, near the reading corner. “These kids are going to give you the most trouble, but if you threaten them with walking the plank, they usually hush.”

“Walking the plank?” she asks, confusion coloring her voice. It sounds like a reprimanding tactic, but she would have thought that something like a plank to be walked across should’ve been mentioned in the lesson plan.

(Not to mention it sounds kind of humiliating. While Emma wouldn’t have put it past the administration back in her schooling days, it sounds a little too corporal punishment-y for the school system Mary Margaret has described.)

“It’s basically a detention. Mr Jones sends someone to the lunchroom to sit with Lunch Lady Cora.” He turns back to her, lifting his hand up to hide his mouth from the side. Dramatically, Henry whispers, “Sometimes, the kids come back crying.”

“What? Is he allowed to do that?”

“Mhm,” Henry hums with a nod. “They usually just help count the lunch money or clean the lunch trays, but Cora is not a nice lady.”

Emma scoffs and goes to stand by Mr Jones’ desk. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

She jumps a bit when Henry pats her on the arm. “You’re going to do great, Ms Swan. I believe in you,” he tells her.

As silly as it may seem, one of her temporary students having such innocent confidence in her does make her heartbeat slow just a tad and her nerves settle. Plus, it bodes well for how she deals with kids.

(Maybe Mary Margaret is right; maybe she just hasn’t had the opportunity to do this child caring thing.)

“Thanks, Henry,” she says quietly. “That really means a lot.”

He smiles. “Well, I’ve got to get to work. I’ll be back before the morning announcements.”

“Alright,” she says with a sigh. “Be good.”

Nodding, Henry salutes her. “Yes ma'am.”

As Henry leaves the classroom, the morning bell rings. He’ll have to fight against the stream of kids heading to their rooms, chatting about last night’s football game, or the pros and cons of certain Pokemon.

(That’s something kids talk about, right?)

In the few precious moments of solitude she has left, Emma takes another deep breath.

“Here goes nothing,” she murmurs.

0000

She sits down at the teacher’s desk after seeing the students off to their busses. Heels were a poor choice today and she’s got the start of a migraine brewing behind her eyelids.

Despite all that, Emma hasn’t felt so accomplished in a long time. Even before she spent the last month sitting on her couch, watching Netflix and trying to avoid the unscratchable itch on her forearm. While the bail bonds business was always booming, the rush of adrenaline attained by catching a skip was nothing compared to the camaraderie and naivete an elementary school supplied her with in one day.

For the moment, Emma slides her feet from her shoes, letting the blood flow back to the places where the nerves have been pinched for the majority of the day. Sighing, she reads over the handwriting scrawled across the bottom of the lesson plan again. Then she flips the little packet over. She contemplates what to write - whether to tell him that Henry was a great asset and helper today, how far they got in the science lesson, and the like - but she settles on the simplest of comments.

‘You’re right: they’re great kids. I’d be happy to come back. E. Swan.’

And it feels right, scribbling that out at the bottom of the page. But then she feels a little guilty, not leaving details about their lesson on photosynthesis, or that his math class managed to trick her into playing Jeopardy the entire time; so Emma goes back and leaves some notations along the side of Mr Jones’ outline. Little things, nothing extensive, but it is her first time subbing. How is she supposed to know what to do?

When Emma feels that all is said and done, she packs up her purse, straightens up the piles of papers, and heads back into the empty hallway, the room darkening behind her. Her heels are back on, their click-clacks slow and measured now that her feet ache and she doesn’t have to walk from desk to desk explaining certain questions.

“So?” The voice comes from ahead of her, raising in question. Mary Margaret’s locking up her own classroom, two bags hanging from her shoulder with another one on the ground beneath her feet. Despite being busy with her own class, Mary Margaret made sure to check up on Emma during her planning period. She’s got a smile on her face right now, shouldering her third bag as she asks more leadingly: “How’d it go?”

Emma laughs, giving up the battle with her heels. When she meets up with her friend, she leans against the wall and takes her shoes off until the coolness of the linoleum soothes her feet. “It all makes sense now,” she says.

Mary Margaret chuckles, hitching her bags up higher. “And what, exactly, does that mean?”

Taking pity on her friend, Emma grabs one of the bags from her hand and throws it over her own shoulder.

She ponders over her words before responding. “You always tell me how tired you are and how your feet hurt and I never understood because I thought you spent all day playing Legos with a bunch of kids,” she explains. “But now I get it.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” Together, they walk - or stumble, more suitably for Emma - down the hall, bidding goodbye to other teachers and staff members as they make their ways outside.

With a sigh, Emma’s forced to take a seat inside the front office to don her shoes once more.

“So?” Mary Margaret asks, pushing open the front door.

The afternoon sun burns Emma’s eyes after a day spent indoors under artificial light, and that along with her friend’s hanging question cause her to grunt.

Mary Margaret sighs and nudges her arm. “Did you like it? Can I count on you to sub for me?”

Her immediate answer is no - it goes unspoken, but Emma’s first response is always to avoid change. Especially change that might benefit her. She’s been a runner all her life, which made bail bonds a wonderful option from her. She could pick up and move, find other skips to chase in any city in and state, no matter what problem she might have been running from at the time: relationships, dreams, emotional trauma, just to name a few.

But this is Mary Margaret, her closest friend in the world, one of two people she’d do anything for. And she did have a wonderful time today. Her comment to Mr Jones was the furthest thing from a lie, surprisingly enough.

When they reach their cars, Emma takes a deep breath and turns to her friend. “I’ll do it,” she says, confident grin across her face. “It was great. So when little Emmett comes, I’ll sub for you.”

Furrowing her brows, Mary Margaret repeats, “Emmett?”

“Well, it kind of seems like you guys are set on a little dude and you’re obviously going to name him after the most important person in your life,” she reasons, smile growing wider.

“My husband?” she says. “My father, or his?”

Emma scoffs, opening the driver’s door with a flourish. Brushing her hair off her shoulder, she says, “Me, obviously.”

“Of course.” Mary Margaret comes over and hugs Emma, squeezing her a little tighter than considered normal. “How could I be so obtuse?”

“It’s okay,” Emma says, patting her on the back. “You’ve obviously got a bad case of pregnancy brain.”

That earns Emma a slap to the shoulder, and chuckles break from her mouth before she can stop them.

“It’s not that bad,” Mary Margaret complains, her voice high and on the edge of whining. Her hand falls to her stomach, just a hint of a bump there, easily mistaken for a food baby or even a trick of the light.

“Not yet,” Emma corrects her. “But if pop culture is to be believed, the worst is yet to come.”

0000

Emma’s enjoying the bright and warm sunshine as she steps outside of the doctor’s office when her phone rings.

“So much for nice things,” she grumbles.

Fishing her phone out of her bag with her new cast around her wrist, Emma sighs when she reads the caller ID. As much as she loves the woman, Mary Margaret has been beginning to get on her nerves in the last couple of weeks. She calls every couple of hours, asking her if she’d be okay with doing this when she’s out because the rest of her team wants to do it or if she wants to take over for so-and-so who’s got an emergency root canal in the morning. And that’s only the school-related calls. The other ones are pregnancy scares or new things she learned while researching during lunch.

She’s a mess, in Emma’s opinion. A big happy mess.

So when her friend calls on her afternoon off, Emma picks up, no matter how much she wants to just ignore it, go home, and nap on the couch until dinner.

“What’s up?” Emma greets, walking up to her Bug and leaning against it.

“What are you doing Thursday?” Mary Margaret’s words are said without preamble, as if this were a major emergency.

(It better be for something good. There is precious nap time to be spent on the couch.)

“Umm, nothing, I don’t think,” Emma replies. “Why?”

There’s some shuffling on the other end of the line, as if Mary Margaret is moving quickly or trying to hide her voice. “I ran into Mr Jones in the hallway and he’s had something come up suddenly,” she explains. “Asked if you were available to sub for him.”

“Oh.” She can’t say she wasn’t expecting this, but Emma is still kind of surprised. A person with absolutely no training in the field is a little - she doesn’t want to say unwise seeing as she’s benefitting from it, but that’s the only word she can think of at the moment. But it’s nice to know that she did something right the first time around. “Sure. Yeah, I can do that,” she finally decides.

On the other side of the line, Mary Margaret makes some little whooping news. “Great, I’ll let him know,” she says. “Would you like me to pass on your number so he can contact you directly next time?”

“No!” Emma yells, unintentionally scaring the man three cars down trying to load groceries in the trunk. “No, I don’t even know the man. That can’t be protocol or something. Tell him to leave any more dates he knows with his plans and I’ll get back to him.”

Mary Margaret hums in agreement, her tone a little different when she says, “Okay.”

“Thanks, Mary Margaret,” Emma offers, opening the car door. “I just got out from the doctors’, so thank you for calling me, but I need to get home before I pass out behind the wheel.”

“Oh! Of course!” And with a quick farewell, Mary Margaret’s back to work and Emma’s on her way home.

0000

This time, Mr Jones’ door is unlocked when Emma makes her way in to school Thursday morning. She’s feeling a little more comfortable with the whole situation, having already gotten over those first time jitters. These kids know her a little better now, and she’d like to think - or maybe hope is the correct terminology - that she has no qualms in making them walk the plank if they act out of order today.

Just as before, Emma finds a pile of materials on the otherwise clean desk. She sets down her bag atop the mess behind the desk, slightly more organized than it was the last time she subbed, and begins to read the lesson plans Mr Jones left behind, adorn with a handwritten note at the top.

‘Ms Swan - or who I hope is Ms Swan.’

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, seeing her name scrawled across the top of the page in this elegant script. He specifically asked Mary Margaret to contact her and his students had to have mentioned her name. But still, something happens inside her when she reads the greeting of his note.

‘Thank you for coming in again. You seem to have made quite the impression on my class, for they asked for you by name,” his note goes on to say. “I consider myself a strong man, but when 23 fifth graders plead with their best puppy dog eyes, I am weak-willed and hopeless.’

The image she conjures up is of the men staring at her from the picture on the desk, all bravado and masculinity, going to complete puddy at those kids’ request. It does something weird to her stomach, makes it flip and contort into an unusual shape, not unlike how reading her own name in his writing did.

His note easily leads into today’s lessons - fractions in math, harms of smoking during health, nothing she doesn’t think she can’t handle - before signing off as he did before: ‘You’ll do wonderfully. K. Jones.’

There are many things in life that Emma considers luxuries that some of these kids wouldn’t. She never had any guardians that were so flawless and incredibly confident in her as Henry’s mother. She never really had parents at all: the first time Emma felt like someone actually cared about her was when she met Mary Margaret and David.

And now, Mr Jones seems to believe in her as well.

“Ms Swan!” Looking up from the notes, Emma’s pleased to find Henry standing in the doorway, his backpack dragging on the ground. “You’re back!”

Emma can’t help the wide smile that crosses her face at his sentiments. “Yeah, kid. I’m back.”

And surprising her even further, Henry jogs across the room, dropping his bag near the front before embracing her tightly. Tentatively, she pats his back, her hand coming to cradle the base of his head.

“Well, this is a very nice welcome back,” she says.

Henry steps back, a little breathless. “I’ve got to count the buses, but I’m really excited that Mr Jones asked you to come back.” He’s gone as quick as he’s come, leaving Emma to chuckle to herself. She takes a seat at the teacher’s desk, grabbing a pen from the supplies holder, ready to write down today’s first note.

“Mr Jones,” she writes, mumbling to herself. “I was honored to hear that your kids wanted me back. I really enjoyed them the first time around and I’m sure I will even more so this time. I’m afraid if I keep coming back, they’ll get the best of me and prove me wrong.” Sticking her tongue out, Emma debates writing the next words, but decides she really has nothing to lose. “But thanks for your bid of confidence. I don’t think I can actually explain to you how much that means to me.”

The bell rings, the sound of kids on their way to class start echoing through the hall, and the school day is off to a rousing start for Emma.

Homeroom bleeds into social studies which bleeds into math. It’s been a while since she’s had the opportunity to do anything with fractions besides try to suss out whether she’s consumed a legitimate half bottle of wine in any one sitting. But going over it in pizzas - something that hasn’t changed since she was in school - opens her eyes and does make simple math a little more welcoming.

Mr Jones left behind a worksheet to cement the information in their fifth grade brains, and after Emma explains it, she claps her hands.

“When you guys are finished, you can do something quietly,” she adds, rolling her wrists. “Read, take a nap, doodle, whatever. Just stay quiet.”

As she takes a seat at her desk, the scritching of pencils overtakes the room. Mumblings of math questions asked to neighbors die off into silence as the students start, focus, and finish up their work. Always a bit paranoid of what’s to come and making sure she has enough time to get through everything she needs to, Emma flips through the lesson plans again. This time around, she notices that, as she told Mary Margaret to pass along, Mr Jones has included a few more days he’d request her services. She joins the chorus of busy pencils by writing down the days he’s asked her to come in in her planner.

(She bought a planner for this whole endeavor and, damn, does it make her feel professional.)

Just as she’s penciling in the penultimate date, Henry clears his throat on the other side of the desk. When she looks up, he hands her the piece of paper he’s got in hand.

“Are you done already?” she asks.

“Yeah, but this isn’t that.” Henry shakes it a bit. “Take it. I drew you something.”

“Really?” Emma’s never had anything drawn for her. Granted, she’s never really spent enough time with children to give them the opportunity. Still, she’s oddly honored. “Well, let’s see it.”

Taking the paper from his hand, Emma looks at it all. He’s obviously put a lot of work in to it, whipping out the crayons and even signing his name at the bottom in his best attempt at cursive. It’s a drawing with a house and some pretty good stick people, and Emma considers herself to be a stick people connoisseur.

“It’s lovely, Henry,” she tells him, meaning every one of those three words.

“Good.” She sets it on the desk, trying to take in all the little things he’s included. The house has a chimney with smoke billowing out of it. It even looks like there’s city skyline in the background.

(How he managed to do all this work and finish his math worksheet in the allotted amount of time has to be a trick of magic.)

Henry points to the figures, standing in front of the house. “This is you, of course,” he explains. “You can tell by the blonde hair and the red jacket.”

She chuckles at that. “That’s what I was thinking. It’s cool that you noticed I always wear that jacket.”

Shrugging, Henry merely says, “It’s very hard to miss.” And then he gestures to the other figure, standing beside her little stick on the paper. “And this is Mr Jones.”

“Oh.” She can see it. The dark hair and what looks like equally as dark clothes on his stick could easily be the men in the photo on Mr Jones’ desk. Henry’s depiction makes it seem like his teacher has curly hair, making Emma believe she’s finally discovered which man in the picture is actually Mr Jones. “And what are we doing?” she asks.

“You guys are going home.”

“Yeah?” The one thing that Mary Margaret told her before becoming a substitute was the innocence Emma would encounter in the school. When she was a child, Emma remembers believing that teachers lived and slept at school as well. But Henry’s a smart kid - surely his mother would’ve explained that teachers don’t all live together, especially not in the school building. “You know me and Mr Jones don’t live together, right? We have different homes.”

“I know,” he assures her. “But I think you would be happy having the same home.”

Emma mulls over his comment as Henry makes his way back to his desk. She thinks about it even harder when she comes in a couple days later - at this rate, she’s concerned about whether or not Mr Jones is trying to get himself fired. It seems like she’s spending more time teaching his class than he is and that has to be a liability of some sort - and finds a line in his customary note that doesn’t necessarily shock her, but does mildly surprise her.

‘Please, love. The only time you need refer to me as Mr Jones is around the children. Otherwise, please call me Killian.’

Oh, she thinks, taking a seat on Mr Jones’ chair.

“Killian,” she corrects herself aloud.

The only other person she calls by first name in this school is Mary Margaret, but that’s because she’s Mary Margaret. And Lunch Lady Cora, Emma supposes, but that’s because at this point, she’s convinced the food service manager doesn’t have a last name. Everyone, even principal Regina Mills, calls her Lunch Lady Cora.

But now there’s Mr Jones - Killian.

Now this is an interesting development.

(Maybe Mr Jones and she could be happy in the same home.)

0000

Though Storybrooke Elementary’s environment is quickly becoming her home turf, there are days where no one - not even Mr Jones, the enigma himself - needs a substitute. And though her wrist is nearly healed completely, Emma’s told her boss she’s taking a little bit of time for herself, exploring other options, something prophetic like that.

That being said, there were still bills to be paid and food to be eaten. Christmas presents to save up for that weren’t going to pay for themselves. So she expands her horizons: reaching out to other local schools in the district, picking up the odd jobs here and there, but always more than happy to come back to her Storybrooke home away from home.

It makes her days at the elementary school - especially with Mr Jones’ class - all the more precious and enjoyable.

She’s pulling double duty one day in January, the morning as Mr Jones while he, apparently, attends to his brother during a bad bout of illness, and the afternoon in the art room. In his plans, Mr Jones - Killian - said he would be back in time for him to escort the students down to the lunch room. Emma’s got them all lined up, ready and quiet for him, but he’s late. And she’s hungry.

Luckily, Emma spots Mary Margaret down the hallway, her belly proceeding her in every direction she turns and action she takes. Close to frantically, Emma waves her over.

“Are you going somewhere important right now?” Emma asks.

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “I was going to see if the vending machine in the lounge had any Cheetos,” she replies.

Emma sighs with relief. “Would you mind watching Jones’ class until he gets here? He’s running late and I’ve got other plans to familiarize myself with. I can bring some Chee - “

“No, Ms Swan, you have to stay for just a little while longer!” some of the kids whine. They’re getting restless, discussion striking up over the entirety of the line. They’ve been good all morning, so it’s sort of unsettling that they’ve decided to act up now as their teacher could literally be walking down the hall for them.

“Why?” Emma asks of the children. Their line is no longer straight and neat; instead, it zig zags, with a few kids here and there straying to the side of their peers to watch her. “What are you kids up to?”

She’s seen their innocent faces before, when she’s spoken to them about a project they were supposed to have previous information on and didn’t. These farces of faces are nowhere close to those looks. “Nothing, we just don’t want you to leave,” the general class mumbles.

“Well, I’ve got to go,” she tells them, taking a step further away from the classroom and closer to the fridge that holds last night’s leftovers-turned-lunch. “My time with you guys is up today and I’ve got to go grab some lunch before I have to be Mr Jefferson down in the art room.”

“You can’t!” Henry yells finally. He’s right on the other side of Mary Margaret, taking this week’s assigned job of line leader very seriously. Everyone’s sort of stunned into silence, children and adults alike. “Mr Jones is coming back,” he says in place of an explanation.

“I know,” Emma responds slowly, trying not to show her frustration just as her stomach rumbles. “That’s why I’m leaving.”

“No,” Henry grouses. “Ms Swan, you’ve really got to meet him.”

“I will, one day.” She can feel her expression soften. Though these kids can’t see inside her mind - thank god - but she gets the feeling. For planting himself so solidly in a place in her life, it is a bit of a shame that she and Mr Jones never met in person, only talked through Mary Margaret or his lesson plans. “But right now, I need to eat,” she says gently, her stomach growling quite audibly, further accentuating her point. “Now, be good for Mrs Nolan until Mr Jones comes. Then you can moan and groan to your hearts’ content.” Giving them a smile, Emma sets her hand on her friend’s shoulder and squeezes. “Thanks, Mary Margaret.”

She tries to hide her laughter, one hand covering her grin and the other resting on her stomach. “No problem,” she says, waving her off. “Go eat.”

Emma’s halfway to the lounge, Mary Margaret barely in sight, when she shouts back, “I’ll get you the Cheetos, I promise!”

0000

In the months that she’s been substituting, Emma’s learned quite a lot. She’s learned the basics of each grades’ curriculum, the generic schedule of the day, and most of the names of the rest of the staff.

(She’s pretty impressed with herself.)

(She’s also learned a lot more about the man who’s chair she often sits in while watching his class. And he writes like he’s got a stick up his ass, but in that whole Jane Austen, kind of romantic way.)

(Her heart speeds up every time she reads his customary last line - you’ll do wonderfully. K. Jones - even if she doesn’t admit it aloud or to herself.)

But the hardest lesson she’s learned during her time is that even the best situations come to a harsh head at some point in time. On a late winter day, something has ruined the feng shui or the status quo or whatever else you might want to call the vibe Jones’ class has managed to pull off every time Emma’s come in to sub. Today was a shitshow, and that’s putting it lightly.

From the moment Henry walked in this morning, already running behind and in a grumpy mood because his mother wouldn’t allow him to go to a sleepover later that night, Emma knew it was going to be a bad day. It was gray and rainy outside, her shoes were soaked through, and something just felt off.

It only went downhill from there.

Lily threw up in the classroom sink, setting off commiserative vomiting from Austin and Camille. Though the custodian tried to clean it up while the classroom was empty, the smell lingered, making it the only thing Jones’s kids would talk about for the rest of the day. Every sentence example, math problem, anything, had to do with puke.

It made Emma not only feel crappier than she’d been feeling earlier, but it all made her feel nauseous herself, as well as develop a headache. When she realizes two and a half hours are still left in the school day, it takes incredible effort not to collapse in Killian’s chair and break down.

After drudging back in from the pouring rain that greeted her at dismissal time, Emma is a step and a half away from murdering the next person who speaks to her. She needs to punch something or scream, anything to rid herself of this frustration and anger making her vision red. She should use this mood to fuel a gym workout, but she knows she’ll barely make it to the liquor store before going back to her place and drinking it all, whatever it is, in one sitting.

She takes a moment to collect herself, taking some deep breaths at Killian’s desk, his lesson plans staring up at her. She has to write the day’s notes and, as she’s been since the start, Emma’s going to be honest.

Completely foregoing her customary greeting, Emma gets to the point. ‘I take it all back. Your kids are little shits.’ Solid start, she thinks to herself.

Her anger floods out of her without any real permission. ‘God, I don’t know what happened to them, but I wanted to strangle them all, and I know I shouldn’t be telling you this because you love them and they love you, you’re their captain and they’re your crew but they’re all little shits. And I know that was a run on sentence BUT THAT’S HOW FRUSTRATED I AM.’ Hand beginning to cramp, Emma leans on the back fo the chair and sighs.

During her past gigs, she’s sometimes held back the darker parts of the day - if they didn’t get to a certain activity or if she had to send someone to detention - because, overall, his class was wonderful. She thought so, especially after visiting other school with classes not nearly as tame.

Today was just too much, though. Putting pen back to paper, Emma begins again. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be writing this down, but I’ve got no other way to tell you. And I wanted to tell you, but not in a tattle tale sort of way.’ She sighs again, her frustration nearly drained away now. ‘I really do like your kids and I know that everyone has bad days, but the chances that all 23 of them were having a bad day on the same day are odds practically worth playing the lottery on.’

Mary Margaret knocks on the door, asking her if she’s ready to head home yet, and Emma quickly ends her note with her signature. Packing up her stuff, she debates telling her friend about the circus she was ringmaster of today, but she doesn’t.

(If she doesn’t tell him that she feels like he’d understand her feelings better than Mary Margaret or any of the other teachers, that’s her business.

And his, if he wants it to be.)

0000

For some reason, spring in an elementary school is a better place. Not that there’s any scientific proof that accompanies Emma’s conclusion, but she can safely say that she hasn’t experienced a spring like this one. The kids are happier, especially since they can start going back outside for recess after the horrible winter. The teachers are excited to see the end of the school year in sight.

There’s one thing specifically that makes this spring the best one yet, though.

Once again, she’s subbing for Mr Jones on a Thursday. His excuse is that he’s cashing in some vacation days to clean up his ship before he and his brother take out it out on the waters for the first time in the season.

(The vacation time this man has saved up…honestly, he must’ve worked for fifteen years straight to earn this much time off.)

But if it weren’t for him, Emma wouldn’t feel nearly as prepared to take over for Mary Margaret when her time comes. Her due date fast approaches, but the devoted teacher she is, Mary Margaret has insisted on working until the baby pops out of her. She’s big as a small whale, not that Emma would ever tell her that, and it’s beginning to wear on her. She gets grumpy a lot easier than Emma thought she’d ever see and every time Emma runs into her, Mary Margaret is grumbling and complaining for the baby to get out.

Emma’s eating lunch in the teachers’ lounge, her sandwich halfway to her mouth, when Mary Margaret finds her, face red and eyes wide.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Emma asks, setting her sandwich down and dusting off her hands. She knows Mary Margaret’s due date is this week or next, and her all last night about killing feet was an unforgettable rant Emma could never unhear.

Mary Margaret leans against the back of a chair in front of her, her breathing a little heavy.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she inquiries.

Brows furrowing in confusion and concern, Emma says, “Um, I’ve got a gig at Fairy Forest Elemen-”

“Cancel it.” Mary Margaret closes her eyes and takes a deep breath through her nose. “Your long-term sub starts now.”

“Now?” Emma can’t help but repeat her friend’s words. Mary Margaret’s still here, how can Emma sub for her unless -

Then everything clicks. “Mary Margaret, are you in labor?” she asks gently.

Mary Margaret nods her head. “It’s gotten really bad in the last half hour, but the kids are in art class now.” Pausing again to catch her breath and, Emma can only assume, survive another contraction. “Regina can find someone to cover me for the afternoon, but it’s all you tomorrow.”

Emma chuckles hysterically, head falling back. “The last thing you should be worried about is me,” she says, packing up the rest of her lunch. She’s had enough to last her. Emma’s foremost concern right now is the woman across the table. “Is David coming for you? Can you drive? I can take you to the hospital, I’ll ask Kathryn to cover for me.”

But Mary Margaret waves her off. “David’s going to meet me at the hospital. I can drive myself there.”

“Oh, hell no, not on my watch.” Throwing her trash in the bin, Emma comes around the table. She turns Mary Margaret toward her, trying to be as comforting as the woman’s always been for her as she leans against Emma. “Grab your stuff from the classroom and meet me in the front office. I’ll tell them what’s going on.”

Mary Margaret nods before leaning her head against Emma’s collarbone. Emma can feel her stuttered breathing on her skin, and all she can think to do is rub her friend’s back. “Everything’s going to be great. You and David are the only people I know who are already the best parents in eh world.”

“You think so?” Mary Margaret whimpers.

“I know so.” Carefully, Emma pushes Mary Margaret up. Her friend’s got tears in her eyes, welling up from red-rimmed lids. Emma couldn’t begin to contemplate whether those are from excruciating pain or bubbling emotions. With a watery smile of her own, Emma cups Mary Margaret’s cheek. “We’ve got a hospital to go to. Let’s not fuck around.”

That makes Mary Margaret laugh, tears spilling over. “An elementary school, Emma,” she reminds her. “We’re in an elementary school.”

“I’ve heard much more creative and worse things from the second graders,” Emma jokes. “C’mon.”

Emma escorts Mary Margaret to her classroom and leaves to deal with her own situation. She all but jogs back to Killian’s room and throws her belongings in her bag. Swiftly, she sits down and scrawls out her own note on the back of the lesson plans.

‘Mr Jones,’ but then Emma scribbles that out because her best friends is having a baby and there are just as many emotions coursing through her body as in Mary Margaret’s, and writes ‘Killian.

‘I’m really really sorry, but I had to leave early. Mary Margaret’s in labor and she was going to drive herself to the hospital and you and I both know I wasn’t going to let that happen. Kathryn Griffith’s gonna take over for the rest of the day, I think.’ She should probably cement that plan before leaving school premises. ‘Please apologize to the kids for me. I couldn’t wait to play Jeopardy with them. Just, you know…’

Emma doesn’t really know how to end that sentence. She’s never met this guy in person, but he and his class have become such a huge part of her life that leaving like this is a bit of a shame. Just, such a lackluster ending to this adventure.

There isn’t time to find the right words, or even time for the struggle. She quickly ends her note with, ‘I’ll be around for a while, so if they want to visit Mrs Nolan’s room, they’re more than welcome. Thanks.’

And then, because she’s already in a weird sentimental mood, Emma smiles as she writes out, You can visit, too, if you need some pointers. I know you haven’t been here in a while, but don’t worry: you’ll do wonderfully.”

She tidies up the desk, making sure the plans are front and center for whoever takes her place this afternoon, before she grabs her stuff and whisks down to the front office. Just as she’s turning the corner - she can literally see one of the secretaries easing Mary Margaret into a chair through the window - Emma literally bumps into Henry, on his way back to the cafeteria from a hop to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his little face scrunched up in confusion.

Emma stops her stride long enough to explain, “Mrs Nolan’s having her baby and I have to drive her to the hospital.” She pats him on the head before kneeling down to his level. “I’m not going to be in for Mr Jones anymore, but I want you to tell your whole class I’m sorry, but they can come visit me.” She raises her brows to accentuate her point. “Okay?”

Henry nods in understanding. “Go. Babies don’t wait for a long time.”

Laughing aloud, Emma pulls Henry in for a quick hug. “You are wise beyond your years, Henry Mills,” she compliments. “Get back to lunch.”

With a last grin, Henry waves and heads back to the cafeteria while Emma makes her way to the front office. She enters with a smile and a clap of her hands. Looking at Mary Margaret, she tries to put as much excitement into her voice as she can.

(It’s really not that hard to do. It’s a very exciting time.)

“Alright, let’s go have a baby!”

0000

Little Robbie Nolan has the charm of his father and the sweetness of his mother. Barely a couple hours old, Emma finds herself already head-over-heels in love with the infant. When Mary Margaret gifted her a newborn photo, it immediately finds a permanent home in Emma’s wallet. A blown up copy of it hangs on the blackboard of Mrs Nolan’s classroom, much to the pleasure of her students.

It’s not too difficult to transition from teaching Jones’ fifth grade class to the Mary Margaret’s third grade class. It helps that Emma’s been around the curriculum before and, despite being on maternity leave, Mary Margaret is more than willing to help her write out lesson plans.

(They’re such a bitch, lesson plans. Even with professional training, Mary Margaret admits they suck, which means they suck even more for an amateur like Emma.)

Other than that, Emma’s first foray into long-term teaching is off to a resounding start. It doesn’t hurt that she gets to drop by and see the proud parents and their sweet son whenever she’s got the time after school.

(Her phone background may or may not be a picture of him sleeping in her arms. She’s got absolutely no shame. He’s just so stinking cute.)

One morning, Emma hears the classroom door open while her back is turned, writing the current math problem on the board. She continues to ignore the visitor because, if she’s learned anything in the last couple months, it’s not to let anything or anyone interrupt her train of thought in the middle of a lesson. If it’s that important, they can send an email or still wait until she writes an equal sign.

“Alright, I’ll give you a couple minutes to figure out the answer to this one,” she tells the class, finally turning around to face them. “Remember what we’re learning today. Find the answer using exponents, not the calculator.”

With a clap of her hands, the gentle hum of pencils scratching out figures and students whispering to their neighbors take over the classroom. Only then does Emma turn her attention to the man in the back of the classroom.

He’s sitting against the ledge, his legs stretched out and his arms crossed over his chest. There’s something about him that keeps Emma from immediately throwing him into the hallway. There’s a silly kind of smile on his face, his head tilted to one side as if he’s taking his time in assessing her.

It’s unnerving. She knows she was never formally educated in teaching, but she’s learned a lot, she’s comfortable with what she’s teaching, who is this guy to judge her?

Emma makes her way around the tables, checking how some of the more troublesome students are doing and making sure some of the more distracted kids keep to their assignment, and all the while this strange man stares at her. When she finally gets to the back of the classroom, she stands directly in front of him.

“Can I help you?” she asks sternly.

The man’s tongue peeks out from between his grinning lips. “Not particularly, love.” Though the tone of his voice matches his looks, the accent throws Emma off. In the middle of Maine, the last thing she was expecting to come out of this man’s mouth was a vaguely English accent. “I finished all my planning early,” he continues, “and, since you so kindly invited me, I thought I’d come and see the woman my students keep fawning over.”

She can feel her cheeks redden as she gulps. That’s why the dark, messy hair and bracingly blue eyes look familiar: they’ve stared her down from the framed picture on Mr Jones’ desk. So that could only mean one thing.

“Mr K. Jones, I‘m guessing?”

He sticks out his hand, standing up. “You’d be correct.” She takes his hand and, out of nowhere, he kisses her knuckles, causing her blush to deepen. “Although I’ve told you, you are more than welcome to call me Killian.”

“Killian.” She’s only said his name aloud a few times, but this is by far the most swoon-worthy it’s ever left her mouth. She shakes her head. “Emma Swan,” she tells him back.

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he says with a raised brow. Settling back against the shelf, Killian gestures toward the blackboard. “I do have to admit, I can see why my class would rather have you than me teaching.”

“Please,” she scoffs, finding it much easier to throw away his compliment than to take it at face value. “Those kids adore you. The first couple times I subbed for you, it was ‘Mr Jones does this for us’ and ‘That’s not how Mr Jones does it.’” Emma rolls her eyes. “I swear, it was a miracle we ever got anything accomplished.”

Shaking his head, Killian chuckles to himself. “That’s exactly the type of thing a teacher loves hearing.” A student, Violet, if Emma remembers her name correctly, comes up to them and asks a question that Emma - not to toot her own horn or anything - answers quite expertly. Only after she answers Violet’s question does she realize that the rest of the class has progressively gotten louder, obviously finished or close to finishing their practice worksheets.

Killian, it seems, has noticed as well. “It sounds like the natives are getting restless,” he comments, pushing off the shelf. He leans closer to her, his voice getting deeper and quieter. “I’ll let you get back to this riveting lesson.”

Emma can’t help but groan a little bit and complain, “Do you have to?”

He laughs. “That is what they’re paying you for, isn’t it, Swan?” Another student comes up to her, asking if he can make a trip to the bathroom. Emma permits it, and the student leaves just as Killian clicks his tongue. “Well, I heard you were in the building and I didn’t want to waste an opportunity to put a lovely face to the name.”

She rolls her eyes, resting her hand on his arm. “Alright, Romeo, you’ve already had English class, from what I remember. No time to be poetic now.”

“Right, serious stuff, maths.” He claps his hands, gathering the attention of the class. They turn in their seats and quiet down, something she’s yet to accomplish as quickly as he has now. “Alright, mateys, I hope you’re on your best behaviors for Ms Swan here. I don’t want her to have to call Mrs Nolan and advise her who should walk the plank.”

Someone in the room gasps. “You wouldn’t, Mr Jones!” someone shouts while another student yells, “Ms Swan can’t call Mrs Nolan. She doesn’t have her number!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that something you want to try?” The children start mumbling to each other, some saying how they’ve seen Emma with Mary Margaret in the past and others who are saying they’ve never met in their life.

Killian, however, leans to whisper into her ear. “If you find yourself a tad bored after school or during planning, you know where to find me.” His hand lands on her bicep, giving it a light squeeze to get her attention. He winks at her one last time before sneaking out of the room, leaving her to deal with the tizzy he’s riled her students up into.

Come the end of the day, Emma’s feet hurt, she’s got papers to grade, and she has to get up and do it all over again tomorrow, but the intrigue behind Mr Jones’ offer is just too much to pass up. So after she waves goodbye to the buses, she slowly makes her way to the back of the school building. Most of the teachers leave shortly after the students, making the hallways slightly darker as she wanders through them now. At the end of the corridor, Mr Jones’ room is quite literally the only light at the end of the tunnel.

His door is wide open, but she knocks hesitantly anyway. He looks up from his pile of papers, the pen that was scratching away at written remarks coming to a halt. Killian smiles.

“Surprised to see me?” she asks shyly.

“In all honestly, yes,” he answers. “I thought I may have come on too strong,” he admits. His hands land on the top of the desk as he goes to push himself out of his desk chair, but Emma holds up her hands to stop him.

“No, don’t stop grading on my account,” she insists, walking toward him. “I’m learning how hard it is to get back to grading once you stop.” When she reaches the other side of his desk, Emma slides atop one of the desks nearby. “What are we reading?” she asks.

“This month’s book reports,” Killian says, settling back into his seat with a sigh. “You would think I handed them the book and asked for the report all in the same hour.”

“I’m sure that’s how it seemed for some of the kids.”

He hums, returning to the paper in front of him to quickly write something across it before turning back to her. “I’m wonderfully pleased that you stopped by, but you really don’t have to stay. I don’t want to keep you from any plans.”

“Well it’s your lucky day,” she replies without much thought. “I find myself a free agent this evening.”

She does, kind of. She was going to swing by and let Mary Margaret and David, who knows, go to the grocery store on a date or something while Emma watched Robbie. But she didn’t set her plans in stone, so she can technically push it off until tomorrow.

(And if she plays hooky to finally talk to this man in person, then sue her.)

Sliding off the desk, Emma grabs the student’s desk chair and swings it until it’s around the side of the teacher’s desk. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks.

Killian’s brows crawl up his forehead. It seems she’s caught a little off guard. “Um, not particularly,” he says, surveying the piles on his desk. “Your company is more than enough assistance.”

She blushes. “Are you sure? You don’t want me to put stickers on good papers or draw little monsters on the bad ones?”

Laughing, Killian sets his pen down again. “As much as I would enjoy that, I don’t think the administration would be too fond of the monsters.” He gestures at the pen in front of him, blue ink bubbled up at the tip. “Can’t even use red pen anymore because it’s been shown to be too angry or some shit like that.”

Emma gasps, her hand covering her mouth for effect. “Such language,” she says, her hand falling from her mouth to her chest. “Think of the children.”

“After hours,” he reminds her with a smirk. “You’ve roamed these halls long enough to hear something along those lines. You’ve worked with some of those kids. Called them little shits, if I remember correctly.”

Emma shrugs. “As true as that might be,” she admits, “doesn’t it feel wrong?”

This time, Killian shrugs. “We are the adults in this realm. We’re the ones that rule the school.”

“Isn’t that what the psychiatrists say when the patients run the asylum?”

“Probably.” They both fall into silence as Killian goes back to grading. Emma, trying not to bother or creep him out too much, watches over his shoulder as he writes out comments. He sighs, putting the pen down again and scaring her a bit. “How about I finish up this assignment and then we can do something outside of school property?” he suggests. Raising an eyebrow, Killian adds, “Perhaps grab a drink.”

Pretending to be scandalized, Emma scolds him: “Mr Jones, it’s a school night.”

He smirks, his hands coming to rest wide at the back of his head. “All the more reason, Ms Swan.”

Rolling her eyes, Emma gets more comfortable in her chair. “Now I understand why you needed me so often,” she reasons, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling a little self-satisfied. “I bet shrill fifth grade voices do wonders to a hangover headache.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, love,” Killian grumbles. “Although, to be completely transparent, the thought has crossed my mind that those students of mine are trying to replace me with you. They practically forced me out of the classroom when I so much as sneezed.”

Emma laughs. “I kind of get that impression too. They always wanted me to stay longer on half days so we could meet.”

Killian hums. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell them that we have then,” he suggests. “Leave them in suspense.”

While he goes back to working diligently, Emma tries to focus her attention on something productive, like perhaps cleaning up the counter on the other side of the room, but ends up getting distracted instead.

“Where’s the accent come from?” she asks. It’s something that’s been as on-and-off a thought as he has since they met in person earlier in the day.

(Mostly on.)

(He’s been very difficult to get off her mind.)

“My upbringing, I should believe,” he answers, not looking up from the paper before him. “I was raised in Kingston, outside of London.” Glancing up at her briefly, Killian asks, “Is that a problem, Swan?”

“No, of course not. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Under her breath, she adds, “Certainly isn’t unattractive, but whatever.”

By the way he chuckles as he marks a less-than-good grade on the paper before him, Emma’s assuming her attempts at subtly aren’t that at all.

“Who’s the other guy in the picture?” she asks, avoiding the tension that might arise as well as the warmth rising on her cheeks at being caught.

“Liam, my brother.” Emma sighs, because that makes a lot of sense. They look enough alike and Killian has mentioned his existence in many of his notes. “We sail out on the Jolly Roger during the summer,” he explains.

“Ah, that explains the boat picture.”

“Ship,” he’s quick to correct her.

“Ship?” Killian looks up briefly again to nod at his correction.“Ship. Where’s she these days?”

“Oregon coast, if you can believe it.” Sighing, Killian put the cap on his pen and sets it down. “As much as I love this nice tete-a-tete we’ve got going here, I would be more than happy to discuss it after I finish these last five papers.” He taps his fingers on said papers, his brow arching with challenge.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Emma chuckles, getting up and walking backward toward the dirty counter. Pointing over her shoulder, she says, “I’ll go busy myself over here. Let you get your work done, I guess.”

“That’s all I was asking, darling.”

0000

“Is this seat taken?” Killian’s voice startles her, deep and closer than she could’ve expected. Not that she was expecting his voice at all. Per the daily staff email, he was supposed to be out sick this morning, shouldn’t be on school property until quarter after noon.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, looking up at him from her seat.

He searches the room, confusion clear on his face. “This is the teachers’ lounge, Swan,” he says gently, as if she’s the one who shouldn’t be here. “It’s a public space.”

“But your kids are in your classroom,” she reasons. “And the email said you were out sick.”

Killian shrugs, setting his bag on the table space next to her. “Took the morning off for professional development but thought I’d come in anyway,” he says. His hand rests on the back of the chair next to her as his eyes widened in entreaty. “So may I sit here?”

Still a little stunned and not yet rid of the goosebumps from her earlier surprise, Emma nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Not that there was anything really to go off of before, but something changed inherently between them that night they went for drinks once he finally finished grading book reports. Their banter evolved before Emma’s eyes, from the long distance banter of their little notes to the quick-as-a-whip sarcasm and smartassery of real life interactions.

That night, after he treated her to a drink - or four, as it ended up being - Emma’s found him in her pathway more often than not. They’ve taken to counting the number of times in a day they see each other and Emma would be wrong to say that she doesn’t look forward to that little game of theirs.

(Their record so far is 13. They were both pretty impressed with themselves.)

(She treated him to drinks that night.)

(And dinner.)

(It might have been a date.)

And then the texts start and Mary Margaret still helps her with lesson plans on occasion, but now that Robbie’s a little colicky and her and David are a little more sleep deprived, Killian’s more of her go-to guy for that.

(Among other things…)

He’s scooting into the chair beside her, the legs of the furniture scratching against the linoleum, as he asks, “How is the little Nolan babe these days?”

“Robbie.” He knows the baby’s name: Emma’s told him time after time, especially when Mary Margaret sends her a new picture. And she can tell that Killian’s just pulling her leg by the sly grin growing on his face as he looks at her. Rolling her eyes, Emma can’t help from smiling herself. “He’s wonderful. All three of them are great.”

“That’s excellent to hear.”

“So were you just too upset at the prospect of not seeing me today that you had to come in?” she asks goadingly.

The one day she’d called in sick a couple days ago, her phone had nearly shut down with the sheer number of texts and missed calls she gotten when she finally decided to get up from her bed and shower. Sure, she expected the handful from David and Mary Margaret, the one or two from Regina saying that her sick leave was approved and to feel better, but she thought Killian might die without seeing her. It’s how his dramatic messages came off. Despite her telling him not to, he stopped over after work just to make sure she had everything she could’ve possibly needed.

“Would it put you off completely if I admit, yes, a wee bit?” he admits sheepishly, his tongue running across his lower lip. “You’re quite enchanting, love. No matter what’s already happened, you make any given day a hell of a lot better.”

Emma blushes, focusing back on the emails that awaited responses. “That still doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Yes it does.”

Starting to get frustrated, Emma finally huffs, “Then why exactly do I see you so much even when you should be with your kids and you aren’t off on P.D.?” It’s been on her mind as often as his accent when she showers or his blue eyes in her dreams. The instructional assistant has their desk in her classroom and she doesn’t even see them 13 times in one day. Something odd is afoot with their little game, and Emma knows it’s almost certainly Killian’s doing, because it sure as hell isn’t hers.

He sighs, opening his laptop. “I might, on occasion, ask someone to watch my classroom under the pretense that I need to visit the restroom.”

“And you come find me instead,” she extrapolates.

His hand reaches up to scratch behind his ear, a nervous tick Emma’s learned in their time together. “Guilty as charged,” he admits shyly.

Emma tsks at him. “You’re going to get in trouble one of these days,” she tells him, her voice melodic, almost gloating.

This time when he leans in to whisper in her ear, at least she’s got some warning: his jacket shushes up against the fabric of the chair. “Life’s not worth living without a little risk,” he murmurs enticingly. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Killian pulls away, much to her chagrin, although it’s probably for the best. She isn’t quite sure she could be held accountable for anything she may or may not have done if they’d maintained their proximity.

(She hasn’t had the pleasure of experiencing much of a romance with Killian thus far, but she certainly has enough fantasies to fulfill to give her a good idea of how it might have happened.)

And as he goes to putter about on his laptop, Emma hopes that Killian isn’t talking about only risking a few minutes with his students to see her. It sounds like he plans on jumping out of a plane, or swimming with sharks, or something even more life-changing than that.

(She can’t help but be curious as to what he might be thinking. Because if she’s on his wavelength, his and her little life-changing risk might coincide.)

(Or at least she hopes they do.)

0000

It’s a rainy Saturday, which hopefully bodes well if old wives’ tales should be trusted. Emma’s dress is perfectly white, probably the only solid white piece of clothing she owns that doesn’t have food stains or art project remains on it. It’s a hazard of teaching she’s gotten used to in her time as a substitute and then a fully-certified teacher, but seeing this pristine dress on, reflected back at her in the mirror, makes her wish that maybe she had a couple more shirts and pants that were at least this close to clean.

(Thank goodness she had had the foresight to ask to get ready in the back room of the church. The moment she steps outside in the downpour, her dress could be ruined. But she’ll roll with the punches.)

Mary Margaret sniffs slightly, a tissue covering the lower half of her face. Emma matches her gaze in the mirror.

“No, don’t do that,” she says sternly, already feeling her bottom lip beginning to tremble. “If you start crying, then I’ll start crying, and I can’t afford to redo my makeup.”

Sniffing again, Mary Margaret pats lightly at the corners of her own eyes. “You’re gorgeous,” she says, her voice as watery as her eyes.

Emma‘s smile is sympathetic. “Thanks.” For a moment, she just stares at her friend, equally as beautiful in her own maid of honor dress, before she shakes herself out of it. Looking back in the mirror, making sure everything is absolutely perfect, Emma asks, “What time is it?”

“Time to go.” David’s sassy response comes from the doorway. He looks dapper himself, even with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression is nearly identical to his wife’s, looking entirely the part of a man walking his daughter down the aisle. “You look like a blushing bride.”

Shoulders slumping with emotion, Emma grins back. “Thanks, Dad.” Stepping away from the mirror and toward her friends, she asks, “Where’s Robbie?”

“Granny’s got him, I think.” David leans over and kisses Mary Margaret on the temple before wrapping his arms around both his girls’ shoulders. “Or maybe Regina. I don’t know, the boy’s got so much damn charm. He’s been making his rounds.”

“Of course he has,” Emma chuckles out. She takes a deep breath, centering herself just like she did before taking the PRAXIS or walking into her first interview post-teaching degree. Then she opens her eyes, blows out a raspberry, and grins. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Mary Margaret squeals in delight as David smiles. Taking her hand, David threads Emma’s arm through the crook of his elbow. Mary Margaret goes ahead of them, taking on the role of maid of honor as seriously as she has since the day Emma asked, and David leads her to the back of the church. An attendant opens and closes the door, permitting the rest of the wedding procession in. They casually walk down to the altar, to where she knows Killian is standing there waiting for her, big brother Liam at his side.

(Liam had texted her last night, acting as the middleman between the two of them, telling her Killian was a ball of nerves and would probably be a little less than up to any arduous activities after tonight was over.

She told him she’d probably be the same. If she knew her fiancé, Killian’s last night as a bachelor would have been as sleepless as hers as a bachelorette.)

The door clunks shut behind Mary Margaret, leaving Emma and David the only ones in the hall besides the official door opener.

David’s hand taps on hers gripping to the crease of his elbow. “You ready?” he asks.

Licking her lips, Emma nods. She’s got one more thing on her mind before she’s really ready to do this whole ‘until death do us part’ thing.

“Thank you,” she says quickly. David squints his eyes at her. “If you hadn’t knocked Mary Margaret up, then we would never have gotten here. So I just wanted to say that before everything gets really emotional and everyone gets questionably drunk.” She breathes deeply and sighs. “Okay, yeah, now I am.”

David sniffs, holding back tears. He may be putting on a little bit of an act, but she can tell there are real tears ready to fall once the ceremony starts. “What a bomb to drop at a time like this,” he murmurs.

Emma shrugs, adjusting her bouquet to ward off any awkwardness she feels. “You’ve been around Killian,” she says. “Guess I’ve gotten a little too used to waiting for the dramatic reveal thing he does.” Sighing again, she stands up straight and faces the door separating her from the rest of her life.

(Not to be dramatic or anything.)

“Really, let’s do this,” she says confidently. “I’ve got a knot to tie.”

David gestures to the attendant, and the door opens to reveal their guests, pews nearly full on both sides. As she and David take their measures steps down the aisle, she waves and smiles at all the faces she recognizes as they pass by. Some of her master’s program classmates are here, along with current coworkers and former teachers. Hell, even some of her former coworkers from the bail bonds agency have made it. Probably just so they can go to the party afterwards.

(Definitely so they can go to the party afterwards.)

And at the front of the church, in the second and third rows, are 22 teenagers, their smiles so wide it nearly brings Emma to tears. The 23rd - mastermind matchmaker Henry - stands behind Killian with his other groomsmen.

It’s been a few years - Mr Jones’ fifth grade class now well into their high school experience - but every single one of them found the time between academic decathlons and track meets and Shakespeare plays to watch their teacher and their favorite substitute get married. At first she thought it was a little unconventional, but when she brought it up to Killian one night before they fell asleep, he found it brilliant.

“In case you haven’t noticed, love, those kids still love you,” he’d whispered into the skin of her shoulder. “At least one of them sends me an email updating us on their lives every week. We’ve attended every play and homecoming.” She had curled into his chest, her head coming to rest over his steady heartbeat. “I’m pretty sure those kids see us as their cool aunt and uncle.”

“Well, I guess it would an insult not to invite them to a family wedding,” she’d murmured back.

Emma thought she’d be able to hold herself together until at least the vows. While she had decided to use the traditional words, she knows Killian has written his own, probably with the specific intention of destroying her emotions. But the moment she spots those kids, she remembers every little nudge they gave her, every time she wrote to Killian about the days they spent trying to get through a lesson plan, and the dams break.

Much to David’s surprise, Emma stops in the middle of the aisle, two pews from the altar. She makes eye contact with Killian, who tilts his head, silently asking what are you up to?

Emma gestures toward the kids next to her.

He understands, stepping down from the altar to her side.

Emma turns to David. “I know this is a little off book, but I’ve got a couple people I’ve got to thank,” she tells him.

David smiles and moves her hand from his elbow to Killian’s proffered arm. “Say no more,” he says. “I completely understand.”

With a kiss to her forehead, David heads to Granny’s side, taking Robbie from her grasp.. Vaguely, Emma can hear her maid of honor stand up and start explaining the small halt in the ceremony, but Emma herself is too focus on squeezing the life out of every kid that comes to her. Each one of them embraces her back, some of them whispering how excited or happy they are, before moving on to hug Killian. It only takes five or so minutes to make it through the class, some of the girls crying even harder than they were before at the gesture.

Once the last student - Henry, of course - makes it back to their place, Emma wipes cautiously beneath her eyes. Killian takes her other hand and squeezes.

“Are you ready to get married now?” he asks, his voice lovingly mocking.

Emma nods, leaning into his shoulder. “Hopefully I won’t get distracted now,” she says.

Killian kisses the top of her head. “Don’t worry, love, you’ll do wonderfully.”

#cslb #cs ff #captain swan little bang #ouat #captain swan #my words #storytime #this story has been in my head for a while #mostly because its my life now #but the story came from one of the first times i subbed and left a really long letter for the teacher #and then it sort of snowballed #this story was brought to you by elementary school shenanigans #in a slightly flu-like haze

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patriotsnet · 4 years ago

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What Is An Example Of Republicanism

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What Is An Example Of Republicanism

The Founding Fathers And The Republic

What is a republic?

When the Founding Fathers were brainstorming the kind of government they wanted for America, they studied the histories of other nations to determine what worked and what didnt. Of particular interest to them was the Roman Republics government, which had been around a full 2,000 years before the American revolution. The Founding Fathers decided that a republican government was the best possible government for America.

The decision to create a republic was largely influenced by the ideas that the Roman Republic incorporated into its rule. The most attractive principles to which the Founding Fathers were drawn include:

Government power is held by the people.

The people elect the leaders they want representing them and, in doing so, invest their power in their representatives.

The representatives are tasked with helping every citizen in the country they serve, not a select few.

Some of the ideals that guided the Founding Fathers choice for a republic included:

Fairness The Founders believed that the elected representatives should create fair laws and, if they did not, they could be easily replaced by other representatives who would.

Common Welfare The laws that those representatives created would benefit everyone in the country, rather than one person in particular, or even a select few.

Freedom and Prosperity The Founders liked the idea of their people being afforded the freedom to live prosperous lives.

What Is Republicanism In Simple Terms

Republicanism is the ideology of governing a nation as a republic with an emphasis on liberty and the civic virtue practiced by citizens. More broadly, it refers to a political system that protects liberty, especially by incorporating a rule of law that cannot be arbitrarily ignored by the government.

What Is A Republican Government

The government of Rome was called a republican government. The Founders read that republican government was one in which:

The power of government is held by the people.

The people give power to leaders they elect to represent them and serve their interests.

The representatives are responsible for helping all the people in the country, not just a few people.

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Opiniondemocrats Challenged Electoral College Votes First And Set The Precedent For This Mess

There is no way to justify continuing the false designation of radical rightists as conservatives and people willing to end the republic as Republicans. The dozen-plus elected members of the Republican Party in the Senate and the more than a hundred in the House who announced that they would vote to overturn various states electoral slates Wednesday should not, despite their nominal party membership, be referred to as conservatives or Republicans.

All who fail to condemn President Donald Trumps phone call threatening and pressuring state officials in Georgia and who do not forcefully disassociate themselves from his reported musings about declaring martial law to remain in power show themselves to be opposed to conserving our republic.

Todays Republicans plainly are not deserving of the inheritance of Lincolns party or its name.

The unconscionable effort to keep Trump in office despite the stated will of the people is tantamount to throwing democracy and the American republic into the dustbin of history. Republicans do not wish to end the republic in which they serve or else they are Republicans in Name Only. Conservatives who do not wish to conserve the very foundation of the American experiment our democratic republic is no kind of conservative their intellectual predecessors would recognize.

In What Ways Does The Declaration Of Independence Reflect Principles Of Classical Republicanism

In what ways does it reflect principles of classical republicanism? The Declaration of Independence reflects John Lockes social contract by withdrawing their obligation to obey the monarchy, by grouping colonists to change leadership because they believed the monarchy failed to protect their rights.

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Classical Republicanism And Natural Rights

Classical republicanism promoted the natural rights philosophy, which is echoed in the Declaration of Independence. Natural rights are those rights that are not dependent on, nor can they be changed by, manmade laws, cultural customs, or the beliefs of any culture or government. These rights include such things as life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Other natural rights include the right to protect oneself from physical harm, the right to worship as one chooses, the right to express oneself, among others.

The reason why classical republicanism is so prevalent in the Declaration of Independence is because of the colonists recognition of the fact that they wanted their government to be vastly different from that of the British parliament. They believed that they were following their civic duty by separating from Britain for the purposes of preserving the common good.

What Is Civic Virtue

When you work to help others and promote the common welfare, you are showing civic virtue. The Founders thought civic virtue was important for a republican government. People with civic virtue are interested in having the government help all the people.

The Founders thought it was necessary to teach children the importance of helping others. Young people learned about civic virtue in their homes, schools, and churches. Adults also heard about civic virtue from their religious and political leaders.

The Founders thought a republican government would work in our country. They believed most of the people had civic virtue. They thought the people would select leaders who would work for the common welfare.

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On Types Of Republicanism

The academic literature on republicanism, in my experience, largely assumes one major distinction between kinds of republicanism. As I did not do conduct a major literature review just recently on the issue, I may have missed something, but it seems safe to say that the distinction I am getting onto is well established. That is the distinction between Roman and Athenian republicanism, with the two big names in the field, Philip Pettit and Hannah Arendt lined up on either side.

There are other distinctions between Pettit and Arendt, in the ways they;approach political thouht but I will leave those aside here. In terms of general political thought, Pettit has a more individualised and reductive approach to rights, while Arendt refers to a lived experience of the political side of humanity.;Pettit’s ‘Romanism’ is indeed a claim to avoid the supposed denial of individuality and the right to be free from the political sphere, apparently inherent in ‘Athenianism’. Arendt’s ‘Athenianism’ is a claim to deal with the role that politics has in the life of humanity, which can never just be ‘social’, so lacking the competition for power in a public space. There are ways we might try to equate those with differences in political position with regard to issues other than pure political structures, but I do ;not believes that those really work out and that is again something I leave aside.

Posted by Barry Stocker on 20 October 2014 at 20:39 |Permalink

Which Republican President Inspired The Teddy Bear

What is Republicanism in the United States?, Explain Republicanism in the United States

Theodore Roosevelt, a Republican U.S. president from 1901 to 1909, inspired the teddy bear when he refused to shoot a tied-up bear on a hunting trip. The story reached toy maker Morris Michtom, who decided to make stuffed bears as a dedication to Roosevelt. The name comes from Roosevelts nickname, Teddy.

Republican Party, byname Grand Old Party , in the United States, one of the two major political parties, the other being the Democratic Party. During the 19th century the Republican Party stood against the extension of slavery to the countrys new territories and, ultimately, for slaverys complete abolition. During the 20th and 21st centuries the party came to be associated with laissez-fairecapitalism, low taxes, and conservative social policies. The party acquired the acronym GOP, widely understood as Grand Old Party, in the 1870s. The partys official logo, the elephant, is derived from a cartoon by Thomas Nast and also dates from the 1870s.

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Definition Of Republican Government

Republicanism Government;is a system of government in which the supreme power in the state rests in the people and their elected representatives. Republicanism is a form of representative government.

The concept is derived from the word republic. Republicanism is a form of government in which the head of state is an elected president and not a hereditary ruler. It therefore refers to a system of government in which sovereign power is widely vested in the people either directly or through their elected representatives.

In short a republician government may be defined as a form of government in which the Head of State is elected for a fixed term of office.

The Lessons Of Civic Republicanism

Thomas Jefferson is known as the author of the Declaration of Independence, and the articulator of the separation of church and state. These high profile accomplishments tend to overshadow his other important contributions. For example, Civic Republicanism is a Jeffersonian notion that deserves our contemporary attention.;

Civic Republicanism centers on two interrelated ideas, civic responsibility and community. Civic responsibility refers to the sense of responsibility that we have toward one another, and for one anothers well being. It is the practice of placing the common good above our individual self-interest. We do this willingly because, in communities, we get to know one another and, in turn, feel connected to the people around us. Our neighbors, religious leaders, teachers, and store owners are all part of this network of common bonds we call community. In other words, we learn not to be narcissists because we have learned the benefits of mutual dependence and mutual responsibility. ;

While Civic Republicanism is a good idea, its not one that seems to inform contemporary America. As populations become more segregated based on race and more stratified by economic class, traditional notions of community have disappeared.

Well, what has happened to them? What has robbed of us this tradition?;

Today, however, as inequality has raised the stakes and undermined traditional notions of community, self-interest has come to rule day.;

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Republicanism And Fundamental Rights

The foregoing discussion should not be construed as implying a necessary correlation between, on the one hand, liberalism and democracy, and, on the other, communitarianism and authoritarianism. Some versions of communitarianism approach a pure, popular democracy more closely than do some versions of liberalism, which would expressly renounce pure democracy. If a society is to be governed by a principle of collective welfare, and if notions of collective welfare are to be ascertained by consensus, then majority rule provides sufficient justification for deciding which acts should be penalized. No additional justification, with reference to the specific harm that would be caused by penalized acts, would be required. If the majority wishes to penalize gambling, alcohol consumption, flag burning, contraception, or homosexuality, then it may do so with no greater notion of harm than the sentiment that individuals and society would be better off without such things.

Ordinary right Putative harm caused by exercise of right Exercise of right may be penalized without special justification Exercise of right may not be penalized without special justification

Wilfried Nippel, in, 2015

The British Empire And The Commonwealth Of Nations

In some countries of the British Empire, later the Commonwealth of Nations, republicanism has taken a variety of forms.

In Barbados, the government gave the promise of a referendum on becoming a republic in August 2008, but it was postponed due to the change of government in the 2008 election. A plan to becoming a republic was still in place in September 2020, according to the current PM, with a target date of late 2021.

In South Africa, republicanism in the 1960s was identified with the supporters of apartheid, who resented British interference in their treatment of the country’s black population.

In Australia, the debate between republicans and monarchists is still active, and republicanism draws support from across the political spectrum. Former Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull was a leading proponent of an Australian republic prior to joining the centre-right Liberal Party, and led the pro-republic campaign during the failed 1999 Australian republic referendum. After becoming Prime Minister in 2015, he confirmed he still supports a republic, but stated that the issue should wait until after the reign of Queen Elizabeth II. The centre-left Labor Party officially supports the abolition of the monarchy and another referendum on the issue.

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Republican As Party Name

In 1792â93 Jefferson and Madison created a new “Democratic-Republican party” in order to promote their version of the doctrine. They wanted to suggest that Hamilton’s version was illegitimate. According to Federalist Noah Webster, a political activist bitter at the defeat of the Federalist party in the White House and Congress, the choice of the name “Democratic-Republican” was “a powerful instrument in the process of making proselytes to the party. … The influence of names on the mass of mankind, was never more distinctly exhibited, than in the increase of the democratic party in the United States. The popularity of the denomination of the Republican Party, was more than a match for the popularity of Washington’s character and services, and contributed to overthrow his administration.” The party, which historians later called the Democratic-Republican Party, split into separate factions in the 1820s, one of which became the Democratic Party. After 1832, the Democrats were opposed by another faction that named themselves “Whigs” after the Patriots of the 1770s who started the American Revolution. Both of these parties proclaimed their devotion to republicanism in the era of the Second Party System.

Republicanism In The United States

Edit

Republicanism in the United States is a set of ideas that guides the government and politics. These ideas have shaped the government, and the way people in the United States think about politics, since the American Revolution.

The American Revolution, the , the Constitution , and even the Gettysburg Address were based on ideas from American republicanism.

“Republicanism” comes from the word “republic.” However, they are not the same thing. A republic is a type of government . Republicanism is an ideology set of beliefs that people in a republic have about what is most important to them.

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What Counts As Arbitrary Power

A second major difficulty in developing the republican idea offreedom lies in giving precise meaning to the notion of arbitrariness.According to what criteria are we to consider power arbitrary? Notsimply when its exercise is random or unpredictable. This view wouldundermine the whole point of the republican conception of politicalliberty. As discussed above, with long experience a slave is betterable to predict his masters behavior, and so it appears lessrandom to him, but the slave doesnot enjoy greater freedom by that fact alone. Just because one isbetter able to cope with arbitrary power, it does not follow thatones domination is any less.

Discretionary is much closer to the relevant meaningof arbitrary, but it is not quite right either. Discretionary powermight be delegated to a public agency with a view to advancing certainpolicy goals or endsas for example Congress has delegateddiscretionary authority to the Federal Reservebut we would notwant to say that this reduces our freedom . For reasons explained inthe fourth section of this entry, contemporary civic republicans mustbe able to offer an account of non-arbitrary, yet discretionaryauthority.

Democracy’s Discontent: America In Search Of A Public Philosophy

RwandaâCAR Cooperation is an example of what Africa can achieve through unity

In this book, Sandel contrasts the tradition of civic republicanism with that of procedural liberalism in the US political history. The presentation is organized as the intertwining of philosophical and mostly historical analyses. Philosophically, based on LLJ, Sandel continuous his criticism of liberalism and argues for the idea of civic republicanism with the sense of multiply situated selves. Historically, Sandel shows, while both procedural liberalism and civic republicanism used to be present throughout American politics, American political discourse, in the recent decades, has become dominated by procedural liberalism, and has steadily crowded out the republican understandings of citizenship, which is important for self-government.

Sandel reminds us that the American Revolution was originally aspiring to generate a new community of common good. By separating from England, Americans attempt to stave off corruption and to realize republican ideals, to renew the moral spirit that suited Americans to republican government . Unfortunately, in the years following independence, leading politicians and writers started to worry the corruption of the public spirit by the rampant pursuit of luxury and self-interest. Nowadays, most of American practices and institutions have thoroughly embodied the philosophy of procedural liberalism. Despite its philosophical problem, it has offered the public philosophy by which Americans live.

T. O’Hagan, in, 2001

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Zombie Brains Are A Thing

There is life after death if you’re a pig…sorta. Image source: Wikimedia Commons)

Recently at the Yale School of Medicine, researchers received 32 dead pig brains from a nearby slaughterhouse. No, it wasn’t some Mafia-style intimidation tactic. They’d placed the order in the hopes of giving the brains a physiological resurrection.

The researchers connected the brains to an artificial perfusion system called BrainEx. It pumped a solution through them that mimicked blood flow, bringing oxygen and nutrients to the inert tissues.

This system revitalized the brains and kept some of their cells “alive” for as long as 36 hours postmortem. The cells consumed and metabolized sugars. The brains’ immune systems even kicked back in. And some samples were even able to carry electrical signals.

Because the researchers weren’t aiming for Animal Farm with Zombies, they included chemicals in the solution that prevented neural activity representative of consciousness from taking place.

Their actual goal was to design a technology that will help us study the brain and its cellular functions longer and more thoroughly. With it, we may be able to develop new treatments for brain injuries and neurodegenerative conditions.

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statetalks · 4 years ago

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What Is An Example Of Republicanism

The Founding Fathers And The Republic

What is a republic?

Government power is held by the people.

The people elect the leaders they want representing them and, in doing so, invest their power in their representatives.

The representatives are tasked with helping every citizen in the country they serve, not a select few.

Some of the ideals that guided the Founding Fathers choice for a republic included:

Fairness The Founders believed that the elected representatives should create fair laws and, if they did not, they could be easily replaced by other representatives who would.

Common Welfare The laws that those representatives created would benefit everyone in the country, rather than one person in particular, or even a select few.

Freedom and Prosperity The Founders liked the idea of their people being afforded the freedom to live prosperous lives.

What Is Republicanism In Simple Terms

What Is A Republican Government

The government of Rome was called a republican government. The Founders read that republican government was one in which:

The power of government is held by the people.

The people give power to leaders they elect to represent them and serve their interests.

The representatives are responsible for helping all the people in the country, not just a few people.

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Opiniondemocrats Challenged Electoral College Votes First And Set The Precedent For This Mess

Todays Republicans plainly are not deserving of the inheritance of Lincolns party or its name.

In What Ways Does The Declaration Of Independence Reflect Principles Of Classical Republicanism

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Classical Republicanism And Natural Rights

What Is Civic Virtue

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On Types Of Republicanism

Posted by Barry Stocker on 20 October 2014 at 20:39 |Permalink

Which Republican President Inspired The Teddy Bear

What is Republicanism in the United States?, Explain Republicanism in the United States

You May Like: Who Are Democrats And Republicans In Us

Definition Of Republican Government

Republicanism Government;is a system of government in which the supreme power in the state rests in the people and their elected representatives. Republicanism is a form of representative government.

In short a republician government may be defined as a form of government in which the Head of State is elected for a fixed term of office.

The Lessons Of Civic Republicanism

Well, what has happened to them? What has robbed of us this tradition?;

Today, however, as inequality has raised the stakes and undermined traditional notions of community, self-interest has come to rule day.;

Recommended Reading: What Color Ties Do Republicans Wear

Republicanism And Fundamental Rights

Ordinary right Putative harm caused by exercise of right Exercise of right may be penalized without special justification Exercise of right may not be penalized without special justification

Wilfried Nippel, in, 2015

The British Empire And The Commonwealth Of Nations

In some countries of the British Empire, later the Commonwealth of Nations, republicanism has taken a variety of forms.

In South Africa, republicanism in the 1960s was identified with the supporters of apartheid, who resented British interference in their treatment of the country’s black population.

Also Check: How Many Republicans Are In The United States

Republican As Party Name

Republicanism In The United States

Edit

The American Revolution, the , the Constitution , and even the Gettysburg Address were based on ideas from American republicanism.

Don’t Miss: Did Any Republicans Own Slaves In 1860

What Counts As Arbitrary Power

Democracy’s Discontent: America In Search Of A Public Philosophy

RwandaâCAR Cooperation is an example of what Africa can achieve through unity

T. O’Hagan, in, 2001

Recommended Reading: Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

Zombie Brains Are A Thing

There is life after death if you’re a pig…sorta. Image source: Wikimedia Commons)

The researchers connected the brains to an artificial perfusion system called BrainEx. It pumped a solution through them that mimicked blood flow, bringing oxygen and nutrients to the inert tissues.

Because the researchers weren’t aiming for Animal Farm with Zombies, they included chemicals in the solution that prevented neural activity representative of consciousness from taking place.

source https://www.patriotsnet.com/what-is-an-example-of-republicanism/

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