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sithsecrets · 4 years

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A Matter of Expediency - Part XII

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

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Part 12

4k words

Mentions: allusions to past/possible abuse, swearing, sad themes about pregnancy

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Final preparations for your charity gala are done in the snow, puffy white flakes falling from an overcast sky as servants bustle about the Palgoduan castle. You oversee some of the goings-on, a bit tired from your fitful night’s sleep. Kylo is elsewhere, preoccupied with some Order business of a different sort, and you cannot help but feel a bit thankful. Though you’re in better spirits today, sadness lingers at your core, and the last thing you need right now is Kylo asking you if everything’s alright.

Queen Eleanor is by your side for most of the morning, holding her pregnant stomach as the two of you walk about together. She is so sweet, this Queen of Palgodu, but you still feel a pang of jealousy each time you lay eyes on her, on her children and her body. You ty very hard to do as Miriam told you, to not dwell on your empty, fruitless womb, but that’s easier said than done.

At midday, the Queen declares that she is practically starving to death, and she very graciously invites you to take lunch with her and the children. Your first impulse is to decline the invitation, your raw heart wanting nothing more than to avoid sad reminders of all that you do not have, but you force yourself to accept anyway. It wouldn’t do to appear rude, and this childish little self-pity party must come to an end sometime.

You eat in a small, informal dining room in the company of Princess Maudie, baby Eli, and the children’s nurse, Mya. The meal you’re served is rich and heavy, lots of hearty meats, cheeses, and winter vegetables. Queen Eleanor practically inhales a slab of red meat all on her own, eating ravenously in a way that makes you believe that she really was starving.

Princess Maudie takes great interest you as lunch carries on, regarding you curiously as she munches on bits of shredded meat and little slices of fruit.

“Who are you?” the little girl asks after a while, head cocked to one side as she stares you down from across the table.

“Maudie, we talked about this,” her mother chides. “This is the Empress of the galaxy.”

“You met her yesterday, darling,” Mya adds.

Maudie seems perplexed by this revelation, though she moves past it quickly. Her next inquiry centers around why you’re here, asking next where you live after you tell her about your charity work. After serval minutes of intense grilling, Queen Eleanor and Mya tell Maudie that that’s enough.

“Nonsense,” you declare, amused by the little girl’s line of questioning. She’s quite intrigued by the fact that you live on a ship in space all the time, and she wants to meet Kylo again since she, quote, “forgot about him, too.”

You’re in better spirits when you retreat back to your chambers, but rather tired. A nap would do you good before the party, you think, so you draw the curtains and climb into bed. Sleep comes easily, and it’s some time before you wake again.

The room is no different when you open your eyes, sunlight still trying in vain to seep in through the thick curtains you shut tight. Everything is dim and dark, just as it should be, but you’re no longer alone as you were when you lied down.

“Good afternoon,” Kylo murmurs, the pad of his thumb soft and warm on your cheek.

Snuggling against your husband’s touch, you give him a sleepy, loose smile. “It certainly is now.”

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The merrymaking is well underway by sunset, everyone drinking and dancing and chattering happily as if none of you have a care in the world. Many important officials from around the galaxy are strewn about the room, your cause’s most generous benefactor by far. Others are around as well, of course, lesser nobles from Palgodu, a few choice friends. To your utter joy, Lydia, Helda, and Joon could all make it tonight, and you’re practically vibrating at the thought of seeing them again. Comm correspondence just isn’t the same, and you can’t wait to hear all about what’s been going on in their lives in person.

You and Kylo’s arrival is met with thunderous applause, though you’re thankful that you don’t have to formally receive any guests the way you did at your wedding reception. Nonetheless, you do a fair bit of schmoozing out on the floor, greeting ambassadors and generous benefactors alike as Kylo accompanies you. He’s quiet, letting you do all the talking, but the adoration in his eyes is not lost on you every time you look his way.

Joon finds you first, mercifully saving both you and your husband from a rather droll conversation with a couple of diplomats. Her approach is slow and deliberate, though smile on her face is wide.

“I was going to just run up and hug you,” Joon says, fitting the both of you together in an embrace, “but Nobi said that two Praetorian Reds would probably cave my head in before I could explain myself.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, squeezing your friend soundly. Even Kylo cracks a little smile, though it seems he doesn’t know quite how to act naturally in this situation.

Joon has much to tell you, talking your ear off as she whisks you away from the party’s main staging area. To your utter joy, Helda and Lydia are waiting for you off to the side, nursing drinks and talking idly until they see you approach. Their embraces are painfully and spectacularly familiar, warm in the way that true friendship should make one feel. Stars, you think you might cry as you look upon their faces, upon Lydia’s dark eyes and Helda’s red curls.

Poor Kylo is nothing more than an afterthought for a few minutes as you and Joon and Helda and Lydia all make over one another, chittering like birds and grinning like happy children. Only when he gently grasps your wrist do you remember yourself.

“I’m going to speak with Hux, darling,” Kylo tells you, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek. You feel bad then, expression melting into something apologetic and you twine your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “you really don’t have to go.”

Unbothered, Kylo shakes his head. “I want you to speak freely with your friends. Find me in while, please.”

And with one last kiss on your face, your husband turns on his heel to leave, striding off in a dark swirl of cloak. You can feel eyes on your before you so much as turn back to face your friends, all of them no doubt about to tease you mercilessly.

“So that’s the galaxy’s biggest tyrant?” Joon muses, one eyebrow cocked. Helda’s grin is as sly as she can muster, and even Lydia seems pleasantly intrigued for once in her life.

“He’s not so bad,” you murmur, glancing over your shoulder at the back of Kylo’s retreating head.

“We’re glad to see that,” Lydia declares, the look in her eyes uncharacteristically soft.

There’s no more talk of Kylo after that, or of men in general, for the four of go out onto the dancefloor together. It’s just like old times again, you and your friends spinning and jumping and holding hands in time to the music, wisps of hair clinging to your flushed faces. And though it’s all great fun, you tire of the activity after a while, thirsty and a bit too sweaty for your liking under the thick fabric of your gown.

Helda and Joon split off from you and Lydia, both going in separate directions. It’s grown a bit late, Helda’s mother beckoning her away, Joon’s boyfriend missing her by his side. Lydia and yourself grab something refreshing to drink and head outside, warm despite the chill in the air. Neither of you says anything for a while, simply sipping out of your respective cups as the two of you take in the night.

You turn your gaze Lydia’s way, studying her face, the set of her shoulders. There’s something lighter about her, something… peaceful. As long as you’ve known Lydia, you’ve seen her happy or content, but at peace? Never, not once. It looks beautiful on her, truly.

“What’s happened to you?” you ask, words coming out of your mouth along with an icy puff of air.

Lydia turns to you, eyebrows narrowed, her own breath fogging before her face in the darkness. “What do you mean?”

“You seem different,” you explain, “like all the weight’s fallen off your heart.”

Lydia rolls her eyes at that bit of poetry, but the smile that creeps over her face is rather telling.

“I’m… I’m with someone now.”

A noise of surprise escapes your lips, uncontainable as a bolt of unbridled excitement shocks your chest. Lydia shies away from your exclamation, but you won’t let her off that easily.

“Who is he?” you demand, grabbing her arms now. “Where is he from? What does he do?”

“His name is Jacob, he’s from our planet, and he owns a manufacturing facility,” Lydia tells you, answering all of your questions in one go. “We met a couple of months ago at a harvest party in the country.”

“’Months,’” you breathe, though you can’t bring yourself to be angry at Lydia for not telling you about all of this until now. She’s so guarded, always has been— you’d be a fool for expecting anything less.

“I know,” Lydia concedes, speaking quietly. Some of the light in her eyes flickers for just a moment, jarring you from your euphoric state. “I wanted to be sure it would be different this time.”

You cup Lydia’s cheek then, willing her to stop thinking of that vile man you’re sure she’s seeing in her mind.

“Is he good to you?” you ask, because that’s all you care about. “I mean really good to you.”

And, as if someone flicked a switch, that soft, soft light is glowing in Lydia’s eyes again.

“Jacob is kind,” she tells you, “with his words and with his hands.”

You can’t help the tears that slip down your cheeks, hot reminders of how truly happy you are for this friend of yours. For Lydia, who deserves all of this and so much more.

“Well that’s good,” you begin, swiping at your cheeks, “because if he wasn’t, I’d have to have him executed.”

Lydia lets out a little laugh then, a real one, not one of the humorless barks that you’re much more accustomed to hearing. “I assure you he has no reason to tremble at your feet, Empress.”

It’s a jab, the emphasis Lydia puts on your title, but a playful one. You shove her for it still, rolling your eyes.

“If I remember correctly, you told me you’d help me become a runaway bride at my wedding reception, Lydia.”

The both of you break down into chuckles then, laughing at yourselves and at each other. And though it’s cold, though the wind is biting at your back through your bodice, you feel so very warm, wrapped in the company of an old friend.

“So when do I get to meet this Jacob?” you ask, locking arms with Lydia as the two of you retreat back into the warmth of the party. Your friend shrugs, as practical as ever.

“Well, if you’re willing to endure Princess Mila’s wedding—”

Your whole body shudders to a stop, your feet nearly tangling in your skirts as you take in that particular combination of words.

“Mila’s what?”

Lydia balks beside you, obviously taken aback by your surprise. “You didn’t know? Mila’s due to marry in a month. Your uncle arranged it, I’m sure, some nonsense about making mineral alliances. I can’t believe no one told you. Rumor has it that you and the Supreme Leader were to be invited.”

You’re not sure about all of that, given how you left things with your uncle and his children the night before your wedding, but the news itself is still… discomforting. Mila hasn’t shown you an ounce of kindness in years, but you know good and well what her father’s capable of. Stars, he sold you off without so much as a second thought, not caring what became of you once you were sent to live with Kylo. Everything worked out in your favor, but how were you, or him, or anybody else for that matter supposed to know that? Besides, you don’t think your uncle could get so lucky twice.

Lydia submits to a virtual interrogation right there in the middle of the party, giving up the name of Mila’s betrothed, the exact date of her wedding, and a few other pieces of information that are more gossip than confirmed fact. Apparently, most of the maids and the concubines are saying that your uncle’s selling Mila off to pay some of his gambling debts, the matter made even more sickening by the fact that her future husband is nearly as old as your uncle himself. The mere of idea of this makes your blood boil, for your marriage to Kylo bagged him similar benefits just earlier this year. And, to your horror, the man’s raised taxes on his people yet again without explanation.

Knowing your uncle, he’s taking every single credit and putting it right back on the card table. You knew he was a man who liked to have a good time, but fuck…

“I have to go speak to my husband,” you tell Lydia, pulling her into a quick hug before you start walking off. “Thank you, Lydia, really.”

Kylo is thrilled to see you, tucking you against his side with one strong arm as the officers around him bow. While the affection does make your heart bubble a bit, the anxiety you feel is much more pressing.

“May I speak with you?” you ask Kylo, praying that he senses your urgency.

Your husband takes you away at once, guiding you through the castle and back to your shared chambers without so much as a word of question. He listens intently as you tell him everything, rambling about Mila and your uncle and how the taxes on your planet’s people were already astronomically high to begin with.

“Do you have proof that he’s using the taxpayers’ credits to fund his lifestyle?” Kylo asks, coming to help you with the zipper on your dress. You shake your head as you slip your arms out of the sleeves, rushing to throw on something comfortable and warm.

“No,” you concede, “but I know how he is. When I came to live with him, I always wondered how he afforded the parties, and the women, and everything else that he fills his free time with. And it worries me that my uncle’s already angling to having his debts paid off again, especially at the expense of shipping Mila off to be with a man that he could have gone to school with. She’s supposed to be finishing her education, not helping him get out from under a bad habit.”

Kylo nods at that, though the look in his eyes expresses reservation. “My love,” he begins slowly, “why… why do you want to help your cousin? From what you’ve told me, she’s been awful to you all your life, and I certainly didn’t like what I saw of her at our rehearsal dinner.”

It’s a good question, and a hard one to answer at that. Kylo lets you think for a moment, pulling together some night clothes to wear to bed in the meantime.

“I want to help her because… because my uncle won’t live forever, and it’s not like he’s doing a good job of ruling as it is. My uncle may be impulsive, but he’s not stupid. Sebastian couldn’t pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel, and Tensin is no better. Mila, though… Mila is cruel, but her wit is sharp. Without her working behind her brothers, the planet’s fucked.”

You pause for a minute, a bit irritated by your more sentimental feelings now.

“And, as a woman, I can’t send her off to marry that man. He’s old enough to be her father, and you know how all of those Valderan mineral barons are. I worry about what would become of her, what he would make her do…” You picture Lydia’s sad eyes, and something in your chest clenches. “Mila may be awful, but I can’t sell her out like that, not for my uncle’s bullshit. I remember how afraid I was when we got engaged, how much I feared not being able to please you.”

Kylo’s hand is warm on your face, the back of his fingers stroking over the curve of your cheek. You press into the touch, taking his hand in both of your own.

“But of course, all of my worrying was for naught because you’re more loving and gentle than I could have ever imagined. You respect me, and you want me to be happy, but I have a feeling that that’s not how Mila’s husband will feel.”

“If you think something must be done, then by all means, step in. I’ll have a ship prepared for you tomorrow at once.”

The both of you go to get in bed, more to relax than to lie down the night.

“No,” you say, waving Kylo off, “let me do some digging first. I want to be sure I’m right before I go off and make a big fuss at home.”

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You’re back on the Supremacy by late afternoon, anxious to get to the bottom of all of this. Hux, ever the good friend, briefs the Board of Charitable Affairs for you, allowing you time to hole up in your office for most of the day.

You pore over financial documents, intel from First Order informants, and numerous reports, looking for discrepancies or abnormalities in your home planets spending and accounts. It’s no surprise to find that your uncle’s run up a long list of expenses, many of which are listed as “miscellaneous” or “personal”— or, to the layperson, stimulants and whores. However, no one’s cooking the books. It appears as though every credit is accounted for, every tax dollar where it should be— the money’s just being spent like it’s in the hands of a child. With everything correct (in an extremely technical sense) on your uncle’s end, you move on to Mila’s fiancé, a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that he warrants investigation.

Tarlak Tu’Iuni is middle-aged, decent-looking, and filthily, disgustingly rich. Mineral money, naturally, seeing that he was born and raised on Valdera. He’s never been married before Mila, but he has a couple of illegitimate daughters that he seems to care for in some capacity. However, Tarlak’s personal life matters little to you. It’s always the money with the mineral barons; they can be perfectly good people in their personal lives— real upstanding citizens, even— but they just cannot keep their accounts straight to save their lives. They always want a little extra, they’re always moving money around… Lets just say that paying taxes and being frugal are two things that do not come easily to the Vaderan elite.

But, well— you’re the Empress of the Known Galaxy. For every slick accountant a mineral baron like Tarlak Tu’Iuni has in his corner, you have five even slicker financial investigators in yours.

Your team comes to you with a report in a matter of hours, and you nearly fall down when you learn of their findings.

“You’re absolutely sure?” you ask the woman before you, clutching onto the datapad in your hands for dear life.

“We triple checked all of the transactions. These people are good, I must admit,” she affirms, shaking her. “This is the sort of fraud you have to really look for. I’m not surprised we weren’t tipped off until you made us start looking for inconsistencies.”

You blow out a huge breath, anxious and enraged all at once as you scroll through the numbers. Your companion’s right— even laid out plainly this way, most it seems legit.

“Would you like me to contact the Guard?”

“No,” you tell the woman, though you’re grateful for her loyalty and sense of urgency. “Tell no one of this. I’ll handle it.”

“Yes, Empress.”

And then you and your bearer of bad news are going your separate ways, she to brief the team on your wishes and you to find your husband.

It’s later than you’d realized, the intensity of your work sapping away time with little effort. The ship’s night cycle is well underway, guard shifts down to barebones personnel, most corridors empty and quiet.

Kylo is with his nights, just as you suspected, the lot of them stowed away in a dark corner of the ship that they like to frequent. Each one rises to their feet upon seeing you, the Knights bowing in respect as your husband comes to greet you.

“She’s been skimming off of the charity accounts,” you declare, holding out the datapad for Kylo to take before he can so much as say hello. “Her and all her fucking friends on Valdera. Mila’s fiancé is going to essentially paying off my uncle’s debts with money he and Chairwoman Evan stole from the Palgoduan donations and a couple of lesser projects in the Outer Rim. Millions of fucking credits, Kylo! Millions! And that’s just recently!”

You don’t mean to shout, but rage is hot in your veins now. Kylo looks horrified and bewildered all at the same time, scrolling through the information you’ve given him quickly. Not two seconds later, the air seems to crackle all around you, lights flickering under the influence of Kylo’s powers.

“Is your uncle in on this?” he asks you, eyes dark and wild as he regards you. The Knights stand at attention now, waiting for orders, waiting to be sent off for an attack.

“No,” you scoff, waving your hand flippantly. “They’d be stupid to involve someone like him in this. This is inside shit, crime committed amongst a tight-knit group of intelligent people. I wasn’t even looking for something like this, my team found it when I had them doublecheck Tarlak’s accounts.”

“It’s a good thing you did,” Kylo says, trying to stay calm even though you know an outburst is bubbling up inside him. His fist is tight at his side, shoulders tense and taunt. And the energy in the room… You’re just grateful he isn’t angry at you.

Finally, your husband hands the datapad back.

“We’ll deal with this issue at once,” he declares, and the Knights are ready to follow him out of the room without so much as a cue, the lot of them already grabbing for weapons and tools of destruction.

“Kylo,” you cut, stepping into his path. “Kylo, my love, let’s talk about this first.”

“That bitch stole money from the Order,” he spits, murder in his eyes. “All of those credits are for food, and medicine, and schools—”

“I know that, my love,” you soothe, though a fresh wave of rage does sweep through your insides at the notion of one of your subjects going hungry so that Evan and her cronies can play another hand of cards. “But we have an opportunity to make a statement here. Gutting Evan in her quarters may be satisfying now, but why not put let everyone else see what happens when they try to steal from the Order? Why not show the galaxy that we’re in control, that no one can just get away with things like this?”

Kylo draws in a shaky breath.

“I will have the offenders arrested at once. They shall be executed on a live broadcast tomorrow afternoon.”

You nod at that, satisfied with the statement. Still, you know your husband well.

“Well,” you begin, smoothing down the front of his shirt, pulling a few pieces of hair out of his face, “I never said all of them had to be executed publicly— just the important ones.”

Kylo’s hands come to rest on your hips, his grip tight on your body. Feigning innocence, you begin caressing his cheek in lazy, slow strokes.

“I also think it would be wise if we got a few of the main players to confess. You know, just so no one thinks we’re making this up. I’m sure you and the Knights could handle that, right, darling?”

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #ame #my writing

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years

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The Ghost of the Red Keep, ch8

A03 link

It’s six years before the war ends and Arya sees any of her family again.

Winter’s in it’s fullest glory by the time it ends. The inn is off the beaten path, and in winter, few travelers come to stay. The ice makes the roads treacherous and the soft snow drifts blanket the open land and lessens the ability of even a single traveler to approach quietly.

From the relative safety of the inn, Arya pieces together the truth. Of Littlefinger’s having managed to convince multiple people in the Red Keep to trust him. She turns it over and over in her head, trying to figure out how he managed it. After Jon Arryn- something must have let it slip that he had found several of Robert’s bastards, and he hatched his scheme to use them to bait Cersei and eventually play her and Robert against each other.

They learn from the scarce travelers before winter sets in that Robb has gone to war over Ned’s execution. It makes Arya proud, though she is terrified for her brothers. They learn that the Tully’s of Riverrun have come to his side, which makes her feel safe, but the Riverlands are pressed right up against the Westerlands and the Lannisters remain loyal to their king. Lannister soldiers have already begun making incursions, and any journey away from the inn carries the fear of their banners

Though Arya has a hard time being truly frightened when she knows Nymeria is keeping so close. As winter creeps in, she begins to have to hurt further and further away to find game big enough to sustain her.

Within the inn though, life goes on.

There’s a dozen or so orphans sheltering under the same roof as the Heddle sisters, ranging from still awkwardly toddling to nearly grown. They have an unusual array of skills.

They have among them, three very simple bows. None of them have much skill shooting them.

Arya plucks the bowstring with a finger. She thinks back hard to those nights stolen in the Godswood with Bran. The bow had seemed so much less attractive than the sword.

“I can teach any of them who want,” she tells Jeyne in the last year of autumn.

And that’s how Arya ended up in the little patch of land beside the garden, surrounded by a gaggle of children. Jeyne and Willow are off to the side, digging up the last of the season’s potatoes and turnips to freeze in the cellar, as they watch.

The oldest two, Teo and Thea, the children of a deceased hunter and trapper, pick it up with ease. The others are a mixed bag.

When Madge, a girl of eleven, lets her arrow slip for the fourth time in a row, Arya sees the tears prick at her eyes and silently pulls her aside.

“Deep breath. Remember you can’t get worse than yesterday.”

Madge follows her lead, and this time the arrow flies free, though it does not hit.

Once the children all tire, and Arya is pleased with their progress, Jeyne stands and calls them in for supper.

“Have you seen Gendry?” Arya asks Willow while she gathers the dug up veggies to store in the root cellar.

Willow raises an eyebrow.

“Hardly ever see him at all except with you. Probably out in the forge like always.”

The inn had a small forge that once housed a blacksmith, who Jeyne told them had gotten married and left for better pastures at the end of summer. Gendry had thrown himself into getting it back into shape, and as the cold crept in, spent nearly all his days clearing it out and getting things working again. Arya feels like he might even sleep out here if she let him.

Today, he’s got the forge lit and is pounding something on the anvil. Arya stands back at the door, and just watches him work for a bit, the muscles in his arms playing under his skin, and the look of deep concentration on his face.

Doing this lets her pretend this is all normal. That she’s just a wife come to fetch her blacksmith husband for supper.

Then he notices her, and his face falters slightly, and the fantasy breaks.

“Suppertime,” she tells him, moving to sit on the bench where he’s working. He ducks his head, and makes a noncommital noise.

She looks him up and down while he towels himself off and pulls his shirt back on.

“I’m taking Teo and Thea on a hunt tomorrow,” she says, carefully, “Would you like to come?”

“I shouldn’t.”

Arya steps closer to him, and lays one hand on his shoulder.

“I know it’s hard. But you’re not going to wake up in that cellar again. Come with us tomorrow, it’s only four people. As long as you eat meals with us in the inn, I won’t bother you about it too much.”

She leans in a little closer, smelling the soot and sweat on his neck. It’s nice, strangely so.

“And if you stay all through supper and clean up, I’ll let you sneak me back out here after.”

A smile quirks on the corner of Gendry’s mouth.

“We have our own rooms, why not just sneak me upstairs?”

Arya chuckles, and presses a kiss to that corner.

“Have some sense of adventure.”

He does stay in through supper, even plays a card game or two. And later, they go out to put out the forge, and spend quite a long time putting their kissing to practice. They walk back to the inn hand in hand, not even to any questions

The hunt the next day goes smoothly. The last of the red and gold leaves are still clinging to the trees, but the wind comes from the north and Arya can tell it won’t last long.

Teo and Thea are both good at the walking-in-silence thing, and have a few improvements on Arya’s simple snares. They plan to leave the close ones up, and check every few days. It takes less effort than having to have a proper hunt.

The sun is high in the sky when Arya sees Teo still, she grasps Gendry’s hand, and they turn their heads as a young buck makes it’s way in to the clearing.

It’s large, it’s antlers fully grown, and it sniffs at the ground like it doesn’t even see them. Arya sees Teo move to pull his bowstring, and she stops him with a hand on the elbow.

“I don’t know how to field dress a deer, and I don’t think even the four of us could carry it back.”

It’s good they’d seen it though. A buck wandering about the wood meant there was plenty of game still.

They net a few fat hares, that they string up and carry back. They’re close to the inn, when Arya’s ears perk up, hearing a howl.

“Wolves howl to call to others,” Arya quietly tells Gendry, “Maybe Nymeria’s found herself a friend.”

Or a mate, she thinks with a pang in her heart. She’s glad they left the buck, she would not want her friend to hunger in the woods.

“What did you think of your first hunt?” she asks Gendry.

He shrugs, “Seemed just like a bunch of walking around to me.”

Arya remembers the journey south from Winterfell, remembers how King Robert nearly doubled their travel time by constantly wanting to stop and hunt. It seems nearly a life time ago.

The hares are an excellent haul though, making a fabulous stew for supper, and the skins will be taken the next time Mya goes into the village to trade.

And the next morning, a disemboweled and mostly eaten buck appears in front of the inn. Maerie, the youngest of the orphans, goes green and starts crying when she sees it, and Arya tries to remove it as quickly as possible. There’s enough bits of meat left for Jeyne to make some sausages at least. Teo tries to help her Arya it, but they still make a mess of it.

“I’ll still take it with me,” Mya tells them, “Might still fetch a few coins.”

That night, Arya stares out the window of the inn during supper.

“She’s still trying to take care of me,” she comments to Gendry.

“This must seem wonderful to her,” is his response, “This whole big open wood, after being cooped up within the Red Keep.”

She’s not sure he’s still talking about Nymeria.

The chill stays in the air, and eventually, the snow begins to fall. It blankets the ground and piles onto the roof. The younger children hardly have time for mischief making after spending the mornings clearing what needs to be cleared.

Sometimes in the mornings or in the dark nights, Arya will hear Nymeria howling again.

It’s during another hunt, that Arya spots Nymeria across a long meadow, two smaller wolves behind her. Arya stares, and smiles.

At supper that night, Thea demands she tell the story. One by one, all of the orphans, and Willow even, turn to her at the table. Arya’s unused to having even one eye on her. And with a deep breath, she starts.

“My father and my brothers went hunting one day. They found a mother direwolf who had died, in a fight with a stag. Both of the animals had died, but the mother wolf had six pups. My father thought it might be better to put them out of their misery-”

Her heart squeezes at the symbolism of that.

“But my younger brother Bran pleaded with out father, and he relented and let my brother take the pups home. Six of them, one for each of us. Grey Wind, Ghost, Lady, Summer, Shaggydog…”

She waits, and listens, maybe even imagines that she hears another howl.

“...and Nymeria. They’ve been by our sides ever since, though they are now much too large to live inside. I used to let her sleep at the foot of my bed, until she got too big. When we ran, she followed us the whole way. She will not harm anyone who is not a threat to me, and no one will harm me if she is near.”

“The buck-” Madge remembers, “That was her?”

Arya nods,

“I think she was pleased we left her her meal.”

All of orphans’ are now looking out the window in near silence, as though hoping for a glimpse. Gendry remains in his spot, but he’s looking at her with something in his face she can’t place.

Afterwards, In the cold night, Arya walks back with Gendry to put out the forge. He holds her hand tightly the whole way, their boots scraping against the gathering snow.

“I used to wonder,” he nearly whispers, breath going cloudy from the cold, “if the way I felt about you was just because I went so many years barely even seeing other women...but watching you with the orphans, teaching them things, telling them stories...you really are incredible you know that.”

Arya flushes a deep crimson.

“They’re pack,” she suddenly realizes, “Maybe not the same one I used to think of, with Jon and my family and our household..and you. But they’re their own pack, and they’ve let us in.”

They’ve made it back to the forge, and Gendry’s cleaned out the ashes while she tells him this. Once he finishes, he sits at his workbench, fishing around for something wrapped in a flannel.

“I made you this,” he says, offering it to her. Arya unwraps it slowly, revealing a hunting knife.

“It’s not flowers, but-”

Arya swallows, remembering the flowers that wilted in her braid until they flew free in the wind.

“There aren’t many flowers now. And not much need for them in winter.”

She moves beside him on the bench, raised up on her knees, carefully setting the knife down before she wraps her arms around his neck and rests her forehead on his.

“I love it. And I guess I should thank Mya for her advice.”

He laughs bashfully.

“I had to ask someone. I told you before I don’t know anything about girls.”

Arya holds him a little tighter.

“Well it seems you know enough about Arya.”

The snow keeps falling, and a routine establishes.

Everyone wakes to break their fast, usually porridge now that the mills can’t turn anymore and flour jumps in price. Chores are divied up, and argued over. Mya often rides one of the horses into the nearest village for supplies and news. Gendry still spends most of his day in the forge, making small repairs to things around that always seem to need mending, or else shoveling and fetching and climbing and hauling. Sometimes Arya hunts with Teo and Thea, sometimes she checks her traps, sometimes she helps Jeyne and Willow keep up the inn.

She’s never done much in the way of cooking or cleaning, but she’s good at watching, and imitating.

It’s during one of these days, watching Jeyne press out cheese, when Willow asks her,

“How come you haven’t married the blacksmith, since the two of you like making moony eyes at each other so much?”

Arya sputters a bit. They’ve done their best not to share too many details of their background with anyone here, for their own safety as much as their privacy. She’s pretty sure Jeyne and Willow at least recognize her as a highborn, even though she doesn’t often act the role. She smiles roughly before answering.

“I’d like to, never thought I’d say that. Not sure I could convince him to. Still thinks someone will pop out from behind a tree to behead him for so much as holding my hand.”

“You should say something,” Jeyne tells her, with a wry grin, “Man who looks like him wouldn’t be lonely long if he tried, if he wanted to try. Not to mention that a blacksmith in spring could find work wherever he chose. The way he looks at you though, you can’t just find that anywhere.”

It’s practical advice, which is apparently Jeyne’s specialty. Arya doesn’t say anything else while they rub the cheese with ash and stack them to carry to the cellar. Her words are on her mind for several months though.

It’s on Mya’s journeys into the village that they hear any news at all of the war. Most of the news is grim, tales of Lannister raids further north. She brings a story or two of Robb Stark, the young wolf, who some said could turn into a wolf himself. Arya wishes it were true.

Mya spends much of her day in the stables, as Gendry does the forge, though her solitude is more practical. The stables have been empty for so long that they must be constantly kept up. She tries to insulate the best she can, so that the horses (nicknamed Nettle and Briar by her) will be comfortable. Both have grown their winter coats in, and are quite happy to be sure, frolicking outside and being ridden in turn. When the snow doesn’t fall, they still dig through the blanket, seeking grass.

One day, nearly a year or so into winter, Arya sits in the stable on the top rung of the ladder to the hayloft. Gendry sticks his head in.

“Thought you were going to town with Mya today?”

Arya shakes her head, and Gendry climbs the ladder to join her, and she takes his hand. The hayloft is warm enough, dry and sweet smelling.

“Just thinking about...stuff,” she admits. They’re both quiet for quite a long time, Arya holding his hand in her lap. He wraps an arm around her, and she twists so she can crawl into his lap and kiss him. His lips are as warm as his hands.

It’s after several long, blissful, moments, that Arya’s hands wind in the fabric of his tunic, and her eyes meet his. Their hands have explored each other, often and extensively, but they’ve always gone over or under, never taken off.

“I love you,” she murmurs, her hands still holding still.

Gendry is quiet for a time, before responding,

“I love you too, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Arya’s face sprouts a huge grin, and she lifts her hands and pulls the tunic over his head.

“For as long as we have.”

And no one but the horse was there to see their winter-pale bodies, moving against each other in the dark of the hayloft, shivering and grasping, soft moans carried on the wind.

The next morning, Arya privately asks Jeyne if she has the ingredients for moon tea. Jeyne sighs, long and resigned, and makes Arya keep close eye when she pulls out and measures the herbs from her medicine stash.

“Mint, wormwood, tansy, pennyroyal, honey. No more than a few leaves of the tansy or the pennyroyal or you will become quite ill. You don’t actually need the honey, but it tastes vile otherwise. Go with Mya when she goes to the village next week, or I’ll have run out of mint. I suggest restraining yourself until then.”

Arya hadn’t really expected things to change because of it, but somehow they still do. Good changes though. The butterflies that would flutter in her stomach have settled, now they just rise in her chest like the sun when he touches her. Gendry slips so easily into her bed it’s like he was meant to be there.

Arya loves the little life they’ve dug out here. Even through the coughs and fevers, the weeks where they can’t even catch a squirrel and have nothing but broth and thin porridge to eat, through the tantrums and fights the children somehow manage to find even in the coldest days.

But she hates it too.

One night, Gendry rolls to one side and wakes to hear Arya, laying flat on her back, reciting a series of names.

“Whattryou doing?”

Arya squeezes her eyes.

“When I can’t sleep, I recite names. Names of people I don’t want to forget.”

“Where were you at?”

“Jon, Robb, Sansa, Bran, Rickon,” she recites, then leaves her family and moves past, “Mycah, Harwin, Tommen…”

She eventually runs out of names and falls asleep.

It might be easy out here, to forget her life before this, in Winterfell. With a start, Arya realizes she’s past twenty and hasn’t been to Winterfell in nearly half her life.

It wouldn’t be safe to try and go home though. The further into winter, the more stories Mya’s trips bring them. Some say that the Lannisters briefly took Harrenhal, which is far too close for comfort. There are stories of the destruction reaped by the Mountain as he rode the countryside.

The stories are frightening enough, that the handful of times a rider approaches the inn, Arya, Gendry, Mya and the youngest children make themselves scarce, upstairs, in the smallest bedroom with the largest window.

Arya shushes the children during these times.

“You have to be quiet, even your feet could give you away. Imagine you are ghosts, “

Yet in every case, the traveler is simply seeking ale or a meal and leaves after.

It’s nearly her twenty-first year, during a long walk in the snow, when her and Gendry make the discovery. It’s one of those rare winter days, the entire land blanketed in snow, but bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. A day you could nearly mistake for summer until the cold nipped at your nose.

It had come after a week’s blizzard had kept everyone inside and driven nearly all of them, even ever good-natured Willow, insane. So when Arya announced she needed to take a walk in the woods, Gendry was quick to join her.

They’re walking through what was once a meadow, when Arya stops short.

“Oh,” Arya exclaims, nearly with tears in her eyes, “I didn’t know they grew this far south. I’ve never heard of a weirwood south of the Neck.”

The tree is small, dwarfed even by the leafless skeletons of the forest around it, but it’s white bark and few red leaves are unmistakable. It has no face, but Arya still falls to her knees to pray.

After a moment, she reaches for Gendry’s hand and pulls him down into the snow beside her.

“I told you,” she starts, “About how we perform weddings in the north?”

His eyes flicker up the trunk and back to hers, wanting, but unwilling to be fooled.

“If you’re certain.”

“I am,” she had once feared that this was all her life was leading up to, but she could never imagined it could look like this.

“We don’t need anyone else?”

Arya shakes her head, letting herself get lost in the blue of his eyes.

“The Gods will see what they need to.”

Gendry nods. She hopes these years have been as good for him as they have for her. He’s got color to his face now, he talks to the children when she is not near. He has lost some of his hunch, and stands tall.

She tells him the words, and he repeats them. There might be some blending of traditions, but she’s always liked the sound of “I am hers and she is mine.” His cloak swamps her, and strictly speaking, she thinks you’re not supposed to giggle while praying.

Gendry reaches forward to lift her with sudden ferocity.

“I’m sorry I have no name to give you,” he says, a breath away from her lips.

She shrugs him off.

“Out here neither of us have names. We live as ghosts.”

They kiss, and Arya smiles and whispers to him about the last part of the marriage tradition. It’s worth risking frostbite for, the two of them pressed together, bare, between both of their cloaks. Afterwards, he scoops her up and carries her until they are out of eyesight of that strange, southern weirwood.

They pass Nymeria from afar near the inn on their way back, with a litter of pups behind her.

Winter continues. Maerie stops knocking into everything when she walks, Pen gains his last few consonants. Teo and Thea are full grown now, and will likely leave the inn come spring to forge their own path.

Mya spends more and more time in the village. Willow suspects she’s found a sweetheart there, though she insists it’s just to make sure she doesn’t overwork Nettle and Briar.

Crocuses come up through the snow. Lya squeals when she sees them, but Arya warns her not to get too excited, for they bloom in winter too.

It’s sometime past Arya’s twenty and second name day, that Lya runs through the front door of the inn, saying riders are approaching.

Arya’s voice catches in her throat, but she has enough presence of mind to grab Gendry and Mya and head upstairs.

She peers through the window. It’s a clear day, another clear day. When the riders approach, Arya is shocked to see that there are three of them.

“They don’t look like soldiers,” Gendry assures her.

Arya squints. Something about them looks familiar.

Eventually, one of the rider’s turns their head, and a bit of hair escapes from under their cloak.

Arya’s breath is stolen away. She jerks violently, and pulls Gendry’s arm.

“That’s my sister,” she says in shock, “That’s Sansa.”

The tiny little glimpse, a bit of bright red hair on the head of a tall, poised, young woman, is all she needs.

Willow has gone out to greet them, and Arya finds she still has more air to be taken away.

One of the figures is Harwin, more lines in his face, more gray in his hair. The other is a mop of red curls Arya can’t quite place until it hits her.

“Rickon,” she breathes. He had been just a little boy the last time she’d seen him, would he even remember her?

She turns to Gendry, and pleads him with her eyes.

“You don’t have to come with me,”

“No,” he replies, nearly harshly. “We agreed before, I go where you go. We’ll find out what’s happened together.”

She nods, and with an unsteady gait, stands, and they both turn to descend the Inn’s stairs and face the future.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #fic

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the-arcana-related · 5 years

Text

Heartbreak || Lucio

Pov: Mya

Haha this is so bad

-Past-

"Here we are," I said, a smile etching itself on my face as we stopped in front of the palance gate. "Back at your palace, back in your body," Lucio stared up at the large building, showing his infamous grin. I o ly stared at him, the smile remaining on my face. He looked...so happy. The more I think about it, I probably would too.

"I'm home," he softly said under his breath. I only nodded. He glanced over at me, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. I flinched a bit, shocked at his action. He pulled my close to him, our noses gently brushing together. "And I couldn't of done it without you," he pressed a quick kiss to my lips. I felt my face grow warm. He pulled away. Letting go of my shoulder. I bit my lip.

"Well, we were bound together, so I had no choice," I said, smiling. He softly laughed.

"Yes, that is true. Now, if you'll excuse me," he looked back at his castle. "I have things to do, parties to plan," Ah there was the Lucio I knew. I softly chuckled and nodded.

"Alright, I have to go to the shop anyways. Make sure to stop-" he was already walking off before ai could finish. My brows furrowed a bit but I brushed it off. I started to make my way back to the shop. It felt..weird not being bound to Lucio anymore. As much as I started ro enjoy not being around him all the time, I missed him.

Maybe he'll visit the shop.

-Present Day-

I sighed in frustration, running a hand through my hair as it carelessly fell in front of my face. The potion in front of me was stealing from the fire beneath it. I skimmed through the page of Asra's book, looking at all of his notes. "How did he do this?" I grumbled, trying to follow the instructions.

I had been trying to make a healing potion, usuing the instructions from a notebook Asra passed down to me. But thing's were going as planned. It just wasn't, working, nor mixing right. The shop was basically a sauna from the fire, but it smelled like roses. I was becoming sick of the smell. If only Asra was here, he could've helped me. But he was out on a trip.

Sighing, I put out the fire. Beside me, Ada, my familiar and dog, started to stir. He had been sleeping beside me. He raised his head, looking at me, confused. "Let's go for a walk," I told him. He slowly got up, stretching. I walked over to the door, Ada beside me. I flipped the sign on the door, to say that the shop was closed. Slowly, I opened the door, letting the cool fall breeze inside. I sighed contently and strolled out.

Ada and I set out to the market place. It was unusually packed today. I glanced down at Ada, who looked up at me. We both shared a confused look. "Maybe Nadia is here," I said. Ada's tail started to wag excitedly. I softly laughed at his reaction before going deeper into the market.

I strolled down to the bakery, as usual, but, I noticed a group of people crowded around it. That's when I saw the familiar tuff of blonde hair, and the red fur coat. Lucio. But then I noticed someone attached to him. A girl. Another pang.

I felt a pang in my chest just at the sight of him. One I had felt so many times in the past few weeks. I just stared. I heard Ada started to growl. That's what caught Lucio's attention. He shifted his gaze over to Ada. His brows furrowed, then he looked at me. Shock registered on his face. "Mya?"

My brows slowly started to furrow. "Let's go Ada," I turned on my heel and started to quickly walk out of the market place. Tears started to brim my eyes. I furiously wiped them away.

He'll go to the market place, but he wont take time out of his day to stop by the shop? Say hi to me? Act like I don't exist anymore? Get a girlfriend, possibly a wife and just disregard everything that happened between us? Yeah, sounds like Lucio.

Ada kept up with my quick steps. I ignored Lucio's calls as I made it back to the shop. I swung open the door, letting Ada in, before I walked in and slammed the door closed. The warmth wrapped around me, and the smell of roses had died down.

I heard a hard knock on the door after a bit. "Mya!" I ignored it, walking behind the counter. Another knock. "Mya, open the door,"

"We're closed!" I growled. There was silence after a bit. I let out a small sigh of relief. But it was short lived when the door swung open, revealing none other than Count Lucio himself. "I said we're closed,"

"Why did you run? I figured you would have seemed more excited to see me. Most people are-" I rolled my eyes and started to wipe off the counters. Ada growled at him. He shot Ada a glare. "I thought you liked me too,"

"Ada, settle. Don't waste your breath on him," I patted his soft fur. He nuzzled his head into my touch. I smiled. "I made that mistake a long time ago," I continued to wipe down the counters.

"What? What do you mean waste your breath?" I glanced over at Lucio, the anger slowly building up. He looked confused and frustrated. "I thought you liked me...?"

"Used to," I corrected. His eyes widened. "Then I realized I was only a piece in your plan to get your body back. To get you back to your castle," the guilt was shone in his eyes. He went to say something. I held up a finger, shaking slightly. "Don't, say anything," I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears. "Don't try to defend yourself. You know exactly what you did,"

"Mya, please, I really did l-" I scoffed.

"No you didn't. You used me. Acted like you genuinely cared for me, when all you cared about, was getting your body and castle back," the words started to pour out. "If you liked me, or even cared about me, you would've visited the shop, even if it was a quick Hello. You wouldn't of got hitched with some girl. To be quite honest, I feel bad for her. Shes with a narcissistic, self centered man, who only uses people," my head started to throb, from holding back tears.

Lucio was silent. I only continued. "I opened up to you. I told you everything. I trusted you. I thought you cared about me. I thought I had finally found someone. I gave you my first kiss. I did everything I could to help you," my fists started to clench. "But you used me. Everything you said or did, meant nothing, didn't it?" His silence was the only answered. I took a shakey breath. "Exactly,"

"Mya-"

"Get out Lucio," I hissed. He flinched. Sadness etched itself upon his face as he made his way to the door.

"Mya, I'm so-"

"I said get out!" I yelled. He bit his lip before quickly leaving the shop, closing the door roughly behind him. That's then the tears started to roll down my cheek. I slid down against the wall, curling my knees to my chest.

I sat there, sobbing. Ada curled up next to me, nuzzling his head against mine. I let out ragged sobs and started to carefully pet his head. "I hate it Ada," I softly croaked out. "I set myself up for this," Ada let out a small whine. "Now I know why Asra hate's him. He uses people to get what he wants. He doesn't care about people's feelings," Ada nuzzled his head against mine again. "I hate him,"

I hated that I fell in love with him.

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randomlyrandoms · 5 years

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SEPTEMBER Peter Lindbergh - Sept. 3 (Photographer) Carol Lynley - Sept. 3 (Movie Actress) Lashawn Daniels - Sept. 3 (Songwriter) Chris March - Sept. 5 (Fashion Designer) Jimmy Johnson - Sept. 5 (Guitarist) Robert Mugabe - Sept. 6 (World Leader) Robert Axelrod - Sept. 7 (Voice Actor) Camilo Sesto - Sept. 8 (World Music Singer) Robert Frank - Sept. 9 (Photographer) Daniel Johnston - Sept. 11 (Folk Singer) Eddie Money - Sept. 13 (Rock Singer) Ric Ocasek - Sept. 15 (Rock Singer) Phyllis Newman - Sept. 15 (Stage Actress) Suzanne Whang - Sept. 17 (TV Actress) Cokie Roberts - Sept. 17 (Journalist) Aron Eisenberg - Sept. 21 (TV Actor) Sid Haig - Sept. 21 (Movie Actor) Carl Ruiz - Sept. 21 (Chef) Robert Hunter - Sept. 23 (Songwriter) Linda Porter - Sept. 25 (TV Actor) Jacques Chirac - Sept. 26 (Politician) Jose Jose - Sept. 28 (World Music Singer) Jessye Norman - Sept. 30 (Opera Singer) Louie Rankin - Sept. 30 (Reggae Singer)

OCTOBER Karel Gott - Oct. 1 (Pop Singer) Kim Shattuck - Oct. (Rock Singer) Diahann Carroll - Oct. 4 (TV Actress) Ginger Baker - Oct. 6 (Drummer) Rip Taylor - Oct. 6 (Movie Actor) Larry Junstrom - Oct. 6 (Guitarist) David Weisman - Oct. 9 (Film Producer) *Robert Forster - Oct. 11 (Movie Actor) Kadri Gopalnath - Oct. 11 (Saxophonist) Sulli - Oct. 14 (TV Actress) Elijah Cummings - Oct. 17 (Politician) Alicia Alonso - Oct. 17 (Dancer) Bill Macy - Oct. 17 (TV Actor) Willie Brown - Oct. 22 (Football Player) Robert Evans - Oct. 26 (Film Producer) John Witherspoon - Oct. 29 (TV Actor)

NOVEMBER Rudy Boesch - Nov. 1 (Reality Star) Brian Tarantina - Nov. 2 (TV Actor) Walter Mercado - Nov. 2 (TV Show Host) Laurel Griggs - Nov. 5 (Stage Actress) Fred Cox - Nov. 20 (Football Player) Goo Hara - Nov. 24 (Pop Singer) Gary Rhodes - Nov. 26 (Chef) Godfrey Gao - Nov. 27 (Model)

DECEMBER Shelley Morrison - Dec. 1 (TV Actress) Ron Leibman - Dec. 6 (TV Actor) Juice WRLD - Dec. 8 (Rapper) Caroll Spinney - Dec. 8 (Puppeteer) Rene Auberjonois - Dec. 8 (TV Actor) Marie Fredriksson - Dec. 9 (Pop Singer) Philip McKeon - Dec. 10 (TV Actor) Danny Aiello - Dec. 12 (Movie Actor) Chuy Bravo - Dec. 14 (Reality Star) Mama Cax - Dec. 16 (Blogger) Claudine Auger - Dec. 18 (Movie Actress) Sue Lyon - Dec. 26 (Movie Actress) Don Imus - Dec. 27 (Radio Host)

#CelebrityDeaths2019

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johnhenduks · 5 years

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Ang Plumang Lumalaban: Hubad na Pamamahayag

Ang rebolusyong ating ginagawan at serye ng iba't-ibang mga ideolohiya, istilo ng pag-iisip, pagkilos at pakikibaka sa mga isyu at sitwasyong panlipunan na direktang nakaaapekto sa isang indibidwal na mamamayan, maging siya man ay may ganap na kamalayan sa hegemonyang umiiral sa ating bansa, sa ating mundo. Ito ang konseptong nais kong gawing pundasyon sa pagtitik ng "blog" ba ito, na nakaayon sa nilalaman ng isang babsahing isinulat ni Regelio Ordanes, ang Literatura ng Uring Anak-Pawis.

Bilang sulyap, ang literatura ng anakpawis ay ang pagpapahayag, pagsulat, pagpapakita at pagtalakay sa umiiral na kondisyon ng baluktot na lipunan. Dito, nabibigyan ng pansin ang mga dukha na nasa madilim na bahagi ng pamayanang kuta ng hegemonyang mapang-api. Ngunit, hindi ito nagwawaks sa aktong iyon sapagkat ang ganap na layunin ng literaturang ito ay maglatag ng impormasyon at mga solusyon na magmumulat sa isip at kritika na kamalayan ng mga Pilipino, na hindi peke at imahe lamang ng pansariling interes at kaisipan.

Sisimulan ko ito sa pagbali ng mga katagang bilog ang mundo. Isa itong manipestasyon ng nakakatatawang sistema dahil ang totoo, hindi bilog ang hugis nito. Ang bilog ay walang mga sulok, kahit ito ay sinasabing malayang mekanismo ng buhay at interaksyon sa lipunan. Ito ang ideyalistiko, subalit hindi ito ang totoo. Ang mundo ay isang hugis kung saan patuloy na pumapapaimbabaw ang tatlong sistemang mapang-api, mapagsamantala, nagdudulot ng bulag na karangyaan at opresyon sa uring walang entablado sa oportunidad at pribilehiyo - ang uring anakpawis. Una, ang sistemang kapitalismo, isang sistemang pang-ekonomiya, na nakatuon lamang sa ideya ng indibidwalismo at pera. Sa loob ng mahabang panahon, naging haligi na ito ng bulok na mga pader, na ang taning adhikain lamang ay mapalaganap ang kapitalistang pananaw at hindi ang kabutihan at kasaganaang-panlahat. Kung titingnan, tila ba para sa mga may karunungan sa negosyo, kapital at puhunan lamang ang kontekstong ito subalit lingid sa kaalaman ng nakararami, tayo ay biktima ng pang-aaping ito. Ito ay sa paraan ng buwis, usaping salapi na umiikot lamang sa mga nakaaangat at naghaharing-uri. Dahil sa kapos na kaalaman, hindi natin nasasawata at napagninilay-nilayan na tayo at pinaglalaruan ng sistemang ito sa gitna ng ating matinding pangangailangan sa araw-araw na pakikipaglaban sa buhay.

Ikalawa, ang sistema ng pyudalismo ay isa rin sa mga sulok na nagpapalawak ng hanay ng mga api, alipin at mababang uri. Nakasentro ang idelohiyang ito sa pagkakaroon ng tapat, matindi at opresadong paglilingkod sa isang panginoong may-ari. Kadalasan, biktima ng gahum na ito ang mga magsasaka at manggagawa na ang tanging nais lamang ay kumita at magpatuloy sa hanapbuhay na maghahatid sa kanila ng karampot na halaga upang matustusan ang mga payak na kailangan sa buhay. Umiikot ito sa pautang na kapalit ng kilos-paggawa, na nagiging siklo na lamang sa buhay ng may-ari at manggagawa. Dahil sa patuloy lamang ang seryeng ito, tila wala na, at hindi nabibigyan ng pagkakataon ang mga anakpawis na bumangon sapagkat patuloy lamang silang hinihla ng sistemang may pyudal na interes. Kung namumutawi sa inyong isip ang katanungan na bakit hindi sila kumawala, ang sagot ay dahil nakaposas ang kanilang oportunidad sa isang rehas na patuloy na hinahatak ng naghaharing-uri. Wala silang magawa dahil ang pagkilos nila ay magiging mitsa lamang ng patuloy nilang kahirapan at pagkauhaw sa pantay na lipunan.

Ang ikatlong sistema sa sulok na aking tinatalakay ay ang imperyalismo, na isang sistemang ang pokus lamang at pagkamit, pagkamkam, at pagkontrol ng kapangyarihan sa ating lipunan. Bilang mga mamamayan ng isang lipunang may batid na digmaan para sa kontrol at kapangyarihan, ang bawat isa sa atin ay mga biktima ng sistemang ito. Patuloy tayong naniniwala dahil ginagamit tayo sa isang mekanismong birtuwal kung saan ang ating ksalukuyang sitwasyon ay ginagawang larawan upang makuha ng simpatya at interes ng nakararami. Ito ang tinatawag na "poverty porn". Sa ganitong paraan, nagmimistulang sinsero at wagas ang malasakit ng naghaharing-uri sa mga nasa laylayan subalit ang totoo ay ipinapakita lamang nila ito upang mapanatili ang kapangyarihan na tanging layunin nila, sa umpisa pa lamang. Magandang halimbawa nito ay ang mga patalastas ng mga politiko. Isinasagawa nila ito sa pamamagitan ng interaktibong pandaraya sa kalagayan ng masa, nang sa gayon ay mabulag nila ang lahat na ang pagpawi sa kahirapan ang kanilang misyon, subalit sa mata ng mga may kritikal na pag-iisip, ito ay pagsasamantala bunsod ng ganid na pagnanais sa kapangyarihan.

Tatlong sistemang kumakain sa oportunidad na dapat makamit ng bawat isa sa hanay ng masa. Tatlong sistemang nagiging balakid sa pagkakaroon ng isang daynamikong lipunan kung saan ang nararapat na napagmamasdah at nararanasan ay pagkakaisa, pagkakapantay-pantay at hustisya. Bilang isang manunulat ng tudling at lathalain, mahalagang maiparating ko sa mga mambabasa na hindi natatapos ang laban ng mga naaapi sa pagkakaroon ng kaalaman. Ika nga, walang silbi ang may alam na walang ginagawa; subalit higit na walajg kwenta ang may alam ngunit hindit ito ibinabahagi sa mas malawak na dunong tungo sa paggawa at pagbuo ng mga konkretong solusyon. Gaya ng mga salitang maaari kong gamitin sa sulating ito, ay limitado pa lamang ang nalalaman ko, subalit hindi ako hipokrito at nais kong iwanan sa inyo na ang pluma ay hindi dekorasyon lamang upang maghabi ng mya letra at salita bagkus ay instrumentong may angking kakayahan na baliin ang baluktot na sistema. Magsulat ka!

Larawan ay kuha mula sa: https://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/tag/goose-quill-pen/

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bbdoll · 2 years

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The Pang’s brought home a few fireworks to keep the party going and Mýa got so upset when it rained on her parade.

#ts4 #ts4-gameplay #旁 #GrowingPangs #🌱#mya-pang

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strengthanddevotion · 6 years

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"I will love him one day, won't I Ned? They say love comes after marriage." (Tee hee to Ned)

“I think so.” Ned says quietly, sipping his wine and studying his sisters face. “I know Robert can be... crass, but he is a good man at heart Lyanna.” Ned whispers. Sure Robert had his bastard, but he was 18 a man grown and it would be at least two years before he could wed Lyanna. It wasn’t unexpected that he’d seek another woman for his bed in the time being. “I’ll speak to him Lyanna, about staying to one bed and all, but - but father and mother didn’t meet but once before they were wed. And they were plenty happy.”

None of that really mattered though if Lyanna had given her maiden head to this Targaryen. This married Targaryen that Ned had spotted sneaking her back into her rooms. Ned himself had been coming back form meeting Ashara Dayne in the godswood when he’d seen them. With a pang of guilt he thinks he can’t judge Robert too harshly for being in another woman’s bed. At least Mya Stones mother was a whore who’d been paid.

“You just - you need to be careful Lyanna.” Ned says. “Stay away from Rhaegar. He’s no good for one thing. And he’s married for another. You can’t go ruining yourself for a married man. Just - just spend time with Robert, you’ll see what I do, that he’s a good man but a man all the same.”

@steel-winter-rose

#m; eddard #v; like an eagle to an eyrie #steel-winter-rose

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love-dn · 7 years

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goodnight na dear.. sleep na ako.. gising ka na sguro mya mya.. I love you so much dear.. wala pang isang oras sila mama dito.. mmya sana makapagusap pa din tayo.. super miss na kta.. bukas papahinga na lang muna ako.. kain ka ng breakfast ah..

September 16, 2017 8:57 AM

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popularchips-blog · 7 years

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Singapore Changi Airport

New Post has been published on https://popularchips.com/dailies/singapore-changi-airport/

Singapore Changi Airport

Mothership

Voted the World’s Best Airport (2017) for the fifth year in a row, Changi Airport has bagged the international title at the World Airport Awards for the eighth time since its introduction in 2000. The Singapore Changi Airport allows travelers to experience a multitude of shopping, dining and entertainment experiences at it’s three terminals. They encompass some of the best duty-free outlets in town, wide variety of entertainment features (video game consoles, movie theatres), huge selection of local and international delicacies, as well as relaxation activities like the world’s first Butterfly Garden in an airport.

Social Media Presence – Instagram

The airport has been actively building its social media presence through it’s presence and marketing efforts across all 7 channels. As an international brand, Changi Airport wants to elevate travelers’ experience on a personal level by connecting with them on the different social media platform.

Changi Airport Instagram

A quick look at @ChangiAirport Instagram feed and you will see it is as beautiful and Insta-worthy as the actual place itself, truly living up to its international standards. With over 115k followers on Instagram (that’s about the same as an influencer), let’s take a deeper look at who are following the world’s favorite airport!

Popular Chips

As an international hub with travelers from all over the world, Changi Airport’s Instagram account has followers from a diverse mix of nationality but the main bulk comes from local audience and neighboring countries such as Indonesia and Malaysia.

Popular Chips

It is not surprising that the largest group of following comes are millennial users as they are the top and rising segment on Instagram. However, Changi Airport’s Instagram account is also followed by older audience age 35 above (32%) which are usually not frequent users of this platform.

Now on to the highlight, lets learn some marketing tips from Changi Airport and see how this international brand is expressing itself through one of the most loved social media platform – Instagram. We made use of Popular Chip’s platform to discover Changi Airport’s top Instagram post in the past 3 months and learn how they made their social media strategy works.

Tip 1: User generated content is GOLD

Do you choose the window seat on your flights, just for the amazing view from above? [📸: @zippyzipeng] #windowpeek #singaporeskyline

A post shared by Singapore Changi Airport (SIN) (@changiairport) on May 21, 2017 at 1:36am PDT

The top post of Changi Airport Instagram account in the past three months is an amazing window seat shot taken by @zippyzipeng (top) and this is a great example of brands adopting user generated content to boost brand exposure and engagement. The Singapore Changi Airport has always been active in curating and featuring some of the best shots of their airport on their account. User generated content is one of the greatest asset of the digital space now and brands should make use of these to forge a connection, build and engage a community. Also, a simple interactive caption in the form of a question also engages the audiences to participate in a conversation like the one where followers are asked to share their thoughts on window seats.

Tip 2: Humanize the brand, engage your staffs

This Father’s Day, we caught up with @singaporeair Leading Steward Adriel Pang and his 3-year old son, Vayeus. Vayeus used to cling onto Adriel’s pant leg when he sensed that he was leaving for a longer flight. But explaining that long flights allow him to return home bearing gifts usually does the trick to calm Vayeus down. “Now, he’s starting to expect a present every time I return from a longer flight!” Adriel laughs. Looking sharp in your matching suits, you two. #HappyFathersDay #FacesofChangi

A post shared by Singapore Changi Airport (SIN) (@changiairport) on Jun 17, 2017 at 7:06pm PDT

The second most liked photo features a father (Leading steward) and son from Singapore Airline and this gives the brand of Changi Airport the human and emotional element especially so during the Father’s Day season. Humanizing the brand can take various approach from featuring happy customers to business partners or even your staffs, and all these helps to build a more intimate connection with brands’ ultimate audience – consumers themselves.

Tip 3: Sneak peaks, generate hype for upcoming events

How often do you get to see the all-new Volvo S90 driving through our airport terminal? Stay tuned for more on #ChangiMillionaire.

A post shared by Singapore Changi Airport (SIN) (@changiairport) on Apr 27, 2017 at 3:11am PDT

A car driving through one of the world’s best and secured airport? That’s a rare sight but definitely worth a sneak peak on Changi Airport’s Instagram account (and also this is one of the top liked post). Changi Millionaire is a yearly event that rewards consumers/travelers for their shopping and dining purchases at the airport with $1million in cash and All-New Volvo S90. Of course, Changi Airport could have simply posted an advertisement/brochure to publicize the event but that’s boring and so they brought the prize into the picture in the most epic way?

Tip 4: Go beyond normal!

Guess who will be rolling down to Changi Airport this Friday? #soeggsciting

A post shared by Singapore Changi Airport (SIN) (@changiairport) on May 22, 2017 at 3:38am PDT

Amidst all the HD and perfect Instagram shots on the Instagram feed comes a post that is so casual and cute, it almost seems like a friend of ours posted the photo! But that is one way to reach out and attract the millennial users on Instagram who plays a huge part in this social media platform. Changi Airport Insta account nailed it as this post soon became it’s top commented photo. Brands should not be afraid to go beyond the normal and traditional posts (product/promotion shots etc) and explore more lifestyle/behind the scenes options that is more appealing to the current generation that prefers more genuine content and experience.

To end off the article, we made use of Popular Chip’s social listening tool and identified some of the top performing Instagram post with the hashtag #singaporechangiairport and #changiairport. Here are some of them!

Kemaren pas nunggu di ✈️Bandara Singapur untuk balik ke Jakarta, aku mampir ke #ShillaBeautyLoft @ShillaDutyFreesg Collection Privée Christian Dior for gentleman👨🏼‍💼. Aku selalu paling bingung untuk cari parfum yang pas buat aku karna wanginya beda beda dan masing masing punya karakter yang kuat. Tapi aku senang banget kemaren disana ada Dior Expert yang bisa bantu kita menyesuaikan dan cari wangi yang pas buat aku. Chelsea pun senang dengan ada mya Dior Expert karna aku jadi ga ngerepotin dia untuk bantu pilihin parfum 🤣🤔 #ShillaSG #Singapore #Dior #ChangiAirport #ad #perfume #fragrance #formen #christiandior #luxury #parfum #eaudeparfum

A post shared by Glenn Alinskie (@glennalinskie) on Jul 4, 2017 at 4:31am PDT

The Shila Singapore worked with Popular Chips to develop this campaign for their Shila Beauty Loft.

Hello sweethearts, how do you keep your skin hydrated during a flight?✈️ Let me know below . . Last week at Changi Airport in Singapore, I had an express facial treatment at the #ShillaBeautyLoft. There's nothing that says first class in hydration more than a SK-II express facial, literally 30 mins before boarding a plane. So, shout out to @ShillaDutyFree and its one-of-a-kind beauty loft right in the middle of Terminal 3 in the transit area ♥️ #relax #metime #ShillaSG #ShillaDutyFree #Singapore #ChangiAirport #ad #SKII #facialtreatment

A post shared by Jennifer Bachdim (@jenniferbachdim) on Jul 5, 2017 at 3:33am PDT

Believe in your dreams and keep working for them. So grateful for all your support and to share with you this success: an exclusive video featuring my mother and I which will be played in @ShillaDutyFreeSG in Singapore Changi airport. Next time you are at Changi airport, instead of boring yourself at the gate, stop by the Shilla Beauty Loft and experience what my mother and I did….and let me know if you see us on their maxi screens. #ShillaBeautyLoft #ShillaSG #ShillaDutyFreeSG #Singapore #ChangiAirport #oasis #traveller #premiere #ad #dream #funtime

A post shared by Cazet🌸 (@cacazeta) on Jul 8, 2017 at 4:13am PDT

This 'Kinetic Rain' sculpture at Singapore's Changi Airport helps travelers calm down and de-stress before their flights. ✈️ #zen #lifeisanadventure

A post shared by INSIDER (@thisisinsider) on Oct 25, 2016 at 11:36am PDT

The Singapore Changi Airport is not just a winner in its facility and services, it is also performing well in the social media space. Check out this article where we share Changi Airport’s upcoming Insta-worthy Terminal 4!

#changi airport #instagram #marketing #social media #top

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