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tell-me-when-ur-ready · 5 years

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This Thing Called Love (part two)

Summary: When Shawn meets dancer Kellie in Toronto, he falls for her—hard. But Kellie has an invisible disability and thinks it’s impossible that someone could really love her the way she is.

Author’s note: I have multiple chronic illnesses that are similar to Kellie’s, but I don’t have the same exact health conditions she does. I’ve done lots of research, but I apologize if I get anything wrong!

Warnings: tiny bit of language

Word count: 1,200

Against Kellie’s better judgment, she said yes to lunch. She was in Toronto for dance, and nothing else; that was all she could physically handle. More than she could handle, actually, especially with the side effects from her new meds. But when Shawn had texted her, she’d answered Sure, tell me when (after several minutes, not right away; she did have some dignity left).

So that was how, the very next day, she found herself waiting outside a little café for Shawn to arrive. She’d gotten into town on Tuesday to give her body plenty of time to recover, if need be, before her dance competition; now it was Thursday, and the opening rounds of the competition started that night. She’d be dancing once tomorrow, a contemporary piece to a James Arthur song, and then hopefully two or even three times on Saturday depending on how she did—her main piece was her lyrical dance to In My Blood.

And that was what she should be focusing on, she thought anxiously as she tapped her foot on the sidewalk, not lunch with a celebrity she’d randomly met the day before (what even was her life?). But then she saw Shawn walking toward her and all coherent thoughts fled.

“Hey,” he said, raising a hand and flashing her that megawatt grin. He was wearing his signature skinny black jeans and a button-down shirt with the top few buttons gaping open, and anyone with eyes could see he looked really fucking good.

“Hi,” she said back, smiling.

“Sorry I’m a little late. I had trouble finding a parking spot.” He swept a few stray curls off of his forehead with one hand and gestured at the door. “Hungry?”

The waiter seated them at the back of the restaurant and they made small talk about the food as they pored over the menu, Kellie looking at the ingredient lists a little more carefully than Shawn. After they’d ordered and taken sips of their water and flattened their napkins in their laps, the conversation dwindled and things started to feel a little stiff.

“So what have you been doing lately?” Kellie asked awkwardly, and immediately felt like an idiot for asking it. What have you been doing lately? Who said that to a stranger? A strange boy? A strange celebrity?

But Shawn didn’t seem to pick up on the awkwardness that Kellie felt was glaringly obvious.

“Honestly, not much,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “I mean, I’ve been doing a lot of things—working on an album and doing photoshoots and sponsorships and stuff. But it feels like I’m not doing anything cause I’m not on tour or playing festivals this summer. You know?”

“Yeah,” Kellie said, relaxing a little. “In high school I was a super competitive dancer; I was part of a lyrical dance team and we were on this T.V. show, it’s kind of like America’s Got Talent but just for dance, and we won. So we started traveling all the time—performing around the U.S. and Canada and Europe. But now, I just get up in my hometown every day and go to work, and then I sleep and then I work again. And that’s about it.”

He laughed. “Yeah. You get it. And I’m still being productive and doing what I love, it’s just—”

“Not the same,” Kellie said, and smiled back at him. Did she ever understand, she thought ruefully—more than he could know—how it wasn’t the same.

The conversation ran smoothly from there; Shawn talked about his new music video and Kellie talked about her dance background. They found common ground over the ways they took care of their bodies for tour (Shawn) and dance (Kellie). Both of them liked yoga, it turned out, and were interested in holistic health in general (although Kellie didn’t bring up the reason she’d first gotten interested in the field). And once Kellie had started Shawn on that line of conversation, he didn’t shut up for several minutes.

“So basically,” she said finally, leaning one elbow on the table and propping her chin in her hand, “you’re a hippie.”

His mouth actually fell open.

“What?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s obvious. You avoid gluten, you meditate, you do yoga, you’re interested in holistic medicine… should I go on?”

Shawn laughed out loud, his smile reaching ear to ear. “That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, but he didn’t refute her claims.

“Also, you’re a Hufflepuff,” she said firmly, crossing her arms and sitting back in the chair.

That one he did refute.

“Excuse you!” he exclaimed, still laughing. “I am not a Hufflepuff. Not at all. I’m totally a Gryffindor.”

“No you’re not,” Kellie scoffed, but he brushed her off, emphatically shaking his head.

“You’re wrong,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Sorry.”

They were both still laughing when the waiter brought the check, and Kellie looked up in surprise; she hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed. She reached into her purse, but Shawn had already handed the waiter his card before her fingers had even closed around her wallet.

“I got it,” he said easily.

“Are you sure?” (Which was a stupid question, because he was a millionaire, after all.)

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks,” Kellie said, sinking back into her chair. Must be nice to be rich and not to have thousands of dollars of medical bills hanging over your head, she thought grimly.

“I had a really nice time,” Shawn said a few minutes later when they were outside the restaurant, shoving his hands in his pockets. His stance was relaxed, his face open.

“I—I did too,” Kellie said, a little breathless. She silently willed him to return to safer ground. The music video. Business. The industry. Something a little more professional than the way he was currently looking at her.

“So…” he said next, glancing down and scuffing the toe of his pointy boot on the pavement. “I’ll have my team send you details? About the music video?”

Kellie was tempted to tease him again, something like but what if I’m still secretly an ax murderer or don’t you think they should see me dance first, but she didn’t. His wide hazel eyes were looking at her a little too closely and the fluttery feeling in her stomach was one she liked a little too much—because this was something she couldn’t have. Not now, not ever. This needed to end.

“Yes,” she said with finality. “That sounds great. Thank you. And thanks for lunch.”

“Sure,” Shawn said, but she didn’t miss the brief flash of confusion in his eyes as she turned and purposefully started down the sidewalk.

As Kellie walked away into the Toronto sunlight, feeling the beginnings of a migraine pushing at the back of her head, she cursed herself for doing anything except what she’d come here for. It was time to focus on winning Saturday’s competition, because it just might be her big break—and God knows some kind of break was what she needed.

Taglist: @rosiemercy @learning-howto-be-myselfx3

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #sm #shawn

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mimixis · 6 years

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Towards the sun - Part 1: Towards the sun

Paring: Ivar x OC

Word Count: 3092

Summary: Pia just wanted to go to work, but oh well, shit happens.

AN: Hello there! I’m kind of new to posting on Tumblr and there may occur some errors on my part, but please, bear with me. :)

I’m not native English speaker, I’m still learning so if you catch some mistakes, feel free to let me know. :)

“Fuck!” she swore for the fourth time.

Pia took a deep breath in and then exhaled, wanting to calm down. She has gone through this forest many times on her way to work regularly, but now she felt like she was in a completely different dimension. There was no path she always used, she didn't pass the house of the gamekeeper, and she couldn't see the tall chimneys of the factory behind the crowns of the trees.

She cursed again, more annoyed than alarmed. She pulled out her phone to call her boss to inform him she would be late but it refused to obey. There was no signal. She sat on the ground and leaned against a tree. Pia wasn't a person who panicked quickly and without a reason, but this situation seemed too stressful.

First of all, she had no idea where she was. Unquestionably, it was not the forest, that separated her house from the main road, and the passage to the city. Secondly, her phone didn't work. She had no way of contacting anyone to ask for help. Thirdly, it was dusk and Pia didn't feel safe.

She trembled. She didn't know whether it was because of cold or out of fear. She started humming to get hold of herself. When her heart beat more calmly, and she was sure of her voice, she sang.

“Turn your face towards the sun. Let the shadows fall behind you. Don't look back, just carry on. And the shadows will never find you,”

She took a breath to keep sing, but when she heard a rustle in the bushes, she stood up immediately. She opened her mouth to question who it was, but she didn't fancy being a stereotypical dumb blonde girl from horror movies. She took off her backpack, clenched her fingers on it, and pressed her back against the tree, hoping to blend into it. But nothing like that happened, and the noises became clearer.

When a figure crawled out of the bushes, Pia nearly screamed. Her eyes were wide open in horror and shock. The boy stopped moving and looked at her. However, she wasn't looking at his face, but at his legs. She didn't see blood, but he could be injured. His unusual clothes also caught her attention.

“Are you in need of help?” she asked weakly. The boy raised his eyebrow. “Your legs...”

“I'm a cripple.”

"It seems to me, that 'a person with a disability' would be a more proper term," she said, watching him crawl toward her. She wanted to step back, but she hit the tree behind her.

“You don't have to be afraid, sváss snót*,”

Pia didn't know how to react. Not only to his unknown words but also to his behaviour. She moved away a few steps to give him room to lean against the tree. Though, before she could pull back completely and run away, the boy grabbed her ankle. Her brown eyes met his blue ones. She lost her footing for a moment, but somehow she regained her balance.

"Sit next to me," he demanded.

Pia sat down when his fingers disappeared from her ankle. Her heart was beating fast, her body was shaking, she broke out in a cold sweat. She felt like crying. She got lost in the woods, she didn't have a phone signal and a strangely dressed psychopath would kill her. She leaned against the same tree as he, put her backpack between her legs and began to rummage through it, feeling his eyes on her. She took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Would you mind terribly if I had a smo...” she started out of habit, but quickly stopped. If she was about to die, she had the right to the last wish.

She pulled her scarf down. She put a cigarette between her lips, lit it and immediately relaxed. For a few seconds, she even forgot that someone was sitting next to her. She looked at him and her lips parted. She was looking at him earlier, but now that her mind was not overwhelmed by fear, she could see how gorgeous he was. Thick, raven-black hair, piercing eyes and sharp features. For a moment she wanted to touch him. She directed her hand with the cigarette in his direction, offering him some instead.

The boy had been fascinated by what she was doing, but now he seemed unsure. Pia understood that despite her suggestions, he didn't know what to do.

“You take a cigarette between your fingers. Then you put it in your mouth, you drag on it, so that the smoke reaches your lungs,” She showed all the steps in turn, and then released the smoke, creating circles. ”Then you exhale.”

She gave him the cigarette again and this time he accepted it. Pia hid her face in the scarf and watched how the stranger tried to do everything as she said. He inhaled and then coughed. Pia laughed, ignoring his furious look. The boy threw the cigarette away, ignoring her 'hey!' and grabbed her shoulder tightly.

Pia paled. These few minutes of relaxation were a mistake. She shouldn't have left her guard down. The boy took off her hat with his free hand and then unwrapped the scarf. Pia tried to break free, but it didn't work. His grip was too strong. When he finished, he looked at her and she saw her reflection in his eyes.

Tousled hair, glazed eyes, red cheeks and nose. Her lips were gently parted, ready to scream.

"You are different from everyone I know," he said. His voice quiet, the accent very hearable. He put his dirty fingers on her neck, ideally placing them on the pulsing vein. “You don't behave like people from England, and yet you speak their language. You don't dress like them or like my people. Who are you?"

“What do you mean?” she asked confusedly. “Who are your people? Where am I? Who are you?”

"Answer my questions first," he growled, his face dangerously close to hers.

“I'm Pia Petersen, I was born in Great Britain, I'm twenty-two years old and I'm studying acting.”

“Where is Great Britain? And what acting is?”

Pia stared at him blankly for a long moment. She didn't know whether to take it seriously or as a joke. She blinked several times. She changed her position so now she sat in front of him, not beside him.

“No, no, no! Now is my turn! Where am I? And who are you?”

“I'm Ivar, and you will come with me.”

;:;

Pia followed Ivar for three reasons.

The first, quite obvious one, she didn't know this forest and had no idea where to go. Secondly, she preferred to look at him than to have him to look at her. Thanks to that, she felt a little safer. The third reason why she didn't run away the first moment he looked away was, she had no idea where she was and she really needed help.

Pia didn't ask questions as they walked, but she listened intently to what Ivar has been saying to himself in his mother tongue. It was very similar to Icelandic, her mother's native language. She knew only basic words. As a child, she was not interested in acquiring another language, and she had to start learning it when she moved to Iceland with her mother five months ago.

Ivar spoke mostly about that his brothers would not believe him, that Floki would be astonished. She had no idea, who his brothers and Floki were or what was fascinating about her, but she calmed down. The boy's slow movements had put her in a trance, which she had only wrested out from when Ivar turned to her.

“Answering your previous question, we are in Kattegat. Only a few people know your speech. None of my brothers has that skill, so don't be surprised when they do not answer your questions.”

Pia nodded, listening to him with one ear and letting out with other. All her attention was absorbed by the bustling town. The merchants were shouting all at once, women were looking at the fabric to buy. The crowd was so huge, and Pia was afraid she would get lost among them. There was also another problem.

“Ivar, right?” she asked, wanting to be sure she was pronouncing his name correctly. He looked at her. “I don't want to be rude, but... How are you going to get us through this? Will you be like Moses for whom the sea parted?”

“Who is Moses? And how did he do it?”

“It's a story for a different time,” she replied after a moment, shocked. “But in short, it's a character from the Bible.”

“Are you a Christian?” he snarled, grabbing her ankle hard.

Pia groaned, feeling his fingers leaving bruises on her skin. She tried to escape, but the boy jerked harder and she stopped moving.

“And why does it matter?”

"Are you?"

“No!” she answered truthfully. However, she had the impression that if she were, she would have to lie for her own good.

Ivar stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes glistening dangerously. A smile crept over his lips and he threw a satisfied 'good' in her way. They turned to the right and Pia guessed that it was for them to be able to walk smoothly. She wrapped the scarf around her tightly, when the wind blew harder.

She saw that people who were passing them send her questioning looks, but she tried to ignore that. Even when they entered building full of people, that was staring at her, she tried to act with dignity and didn't hide in her too large jacket.

Ivar stopped and slid on the bench near the table. He talked to people resting there, leaving her alone. She stood in front of them and pretended that everything was perfectly all right and that she didn't feel awkward and uncomfortable at all.

She eavesdropped once again. This time not only on the boy but on his conversations with other men. The situation was more difficult now because alcohol made their speech less understandable. She understood, however, that they were talking about England, Odin and revenge. She didn't comprehend what exactly because she only knew that three words. She craved to take the cigarettes out of her backpack, but she was embarrassed to make any move. She didn't feel confident enough and the boy's behaviour wasn't helping.

"Don't be shy, come closer," Ivar said, beckoning her with a wave of his hand.

Under normal circumstances, she would mumble, she was not a dog, but in this unfamiliar environment, she preferred to fulfil his simple desires. She came up to him without even looking at his friends. He extended his hand, pulled off her hat in one movement and with the other her scarf. He put them on the table and Pia wanted to ask him to give her things back for two reasons. Firstly, she had nowhere to hide her face. Secondly, they were made by her grandmother and she for sure didn't want anyone to spill anything on them.

She gave up quickly because someone distracted her. A hand appeared on her hip and Pia without thinking, knocked it down. She moved closer to Ivar and caught his tunic with her thumb and index finger like a child holding its mother's skirt when they were afraid. Her behaviour was amusing, even to the person, that touched her. Ivar was pleased like the cat that got the cream.

"Hvitserk just wanted to say hello," he laughed and then spoke again. “It's Ubbe, Bjorn and Sigurd. Hvitserk, you've got to know. They are my brothers.”

Pia smiled crookedly and put her hand forward to greet them, but they stared at her blankly. She withdrew, feeling blush on her face and cleavage.

“You don't shake hands to say hello, do you?” she asked embarrassed. Ivar looked at her with amusement, nodding. “Please, let them know it's nice to meet them.”

He did it, and they lifted the goblets up and then drank from them. Ivar shifted to the side and patted the seat between him and Ubbe. Pia sat down and instantly clam up, not wanting to touch any of them. She put her hands on her knees, not knowing what to do with them. She felt someone put her hair behind her ear. This move was so delicate and unexpected that Pia jumped up, bumping into Ubbe.

Her large eyes were focused on the boy's face and his raised hand. She quickly returned to her position, seeing that hurt passed through his face. It sounded strange in her mind, but she didn't want him to feel rejected. She might have been afraid of him at the very beginning, but now she didn't have a reason to be. He brought her to the village, she wasn't lost any more, and she hoped that he would help her. Sure, he was a bit bizarre, but everyone here seemed to be.

"I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to..." she began, but seeing that her apologize meant nothing, she made her hair go back to its previous position and smiled shyly. “Try again, this time I will react correctly.”

Ivar's jaw was clenched and his eyes shone wildly. And though he looked intimidating, Pia was not afraid. She turned her head towards him and waited for his move. Finally, after a time that seemed like an eternity, Ivar once again tuck her hair behind her ear. This time his fingers touched her skin. He caressed her forehead, her cheek, and stopped at her neck. Pia shivered.

"So..." she started the conversation, trying to get rid of the well-known feeling in her lower abdomen. The names of his brothers, as well as his name, seemed familiar to her and she only wanted to determine her preposterous assumptions. “I know you certainly have questions, but let me ask you one first?”

"If you promise to answer mine," he said, ignoring his brothers, who wanted him to translate something.

“Of course,” This assurance seemed enough for him. She took a deep breath. ”Is your father Ragnar Lothbrok? Are your brothers Bjorn Ironside and Sigurd Snake-in-the-eye? Are you Ivar the Boneless?”

“The answer is 'yes', to all your questions,” he whispered as if he was revealing his innermost secret, but there was a mocking smile on his lips. ”It's my turn now. Who are you and where is Great Britain?”

Pia heard him ask her a question, but the shock didn't let her do anything. So she looked at him with her mouth wide open and wondered how all this was possible. There was no doubt that what was happening was real, but how?

Ivar awoke her from her thoughts. He pinched her cheek firmly as if she was an unruly child.

“Great Britain doesn't exist yet. And as I said before, I'm Pia Petersen, I'm twenty-two years old and I'm studying acting.”

“How can you come from a place that doesn't exist?” His fingers disappeared from her neck, and he was caressing her hair. The boy's voice perfectly expressed his feelings. Apparently, in his eyes, she was quite simple-minded. “And explain what acting is, please.”

"The simplest answer to almost all your questions would be... And please, don't think I'm mad," she stammered stressed out, moving closer to him. She put her hands on his and squeezed. “As you probably have noticed, I don't fit here, and that's because I'm not from here. Please, believe me, I really do not lie... I'm from the future.”

Ivar looked at her for a long time. Then he looked at their joined hands, how their knees were touching. Then he looked back at her face. She knew how she had looked. Hair stuck to her face from sweat, her eyes wandering and her breathing shallow. Despite the fact that she felt like a woman who had just fled from the asylum, Ivar's lips rose up and now he looked like a lunatic one.

He leaned to the left to look at his brothers. He spoke to them very quickly and Pia didn't understand a word. The brothers looked at her, then at Ivar. Disbelief and awe on their face. Bjorn laid something on the table and told Ivar something about the map. Ivar focused again on her.

“What did you tell them? Did you tell them I have lost my mind?”

“Do not be ridiculous, heimskur.** I told them the truth. Gods sent you to show they are supporting us," he paused, seeing that his words were not reaching her. “Now be a darling and read this map.”

Pia didn't ask unnecessary questions. She preferred not to know what he meant and why his gods would do it. That's why she looked at the map. And yet she had some question.

“So what do you want to know?”

“Everything you know.”

"I've never been good at geography so it will not be much," she murmured and studied the map. “Well, it's a map of Europe. One of the seven continents. We're part of it, England is part of it.”

Bjorn pointed to the unsigned part of the map, and Ivar translated his question.

"It's Spain," she answered and waited for another question.

Bjorn turned the map over and put something on it, that was supposed to be used for drawing. Ivar explained to her that his brother wanted her to draw a map of the world she knows. Pia looked at Bjorn with a raised eyebrow. He only urged her with a wave of his hand. She lifted the backpack from the ground and took out a notebook and a pen. She laid it on her knees and drew a map of the world with awkward movements. It was not perfect, but it was best she could do. Bjorn wanted to continue asking questions, but Ivar didn't let him.

“It's time to go to the ritual.”

“Ritual? What ritual?” she asked, terrified.

“Oh, do not worry. You will not be sacrificed. Gods have only now given you to me, haven't they? Now come on, I do not want to be late.”

Pia took her hat and scarf, but before leaving, she grabbed goblet from Sigurd's hand and drank its contents.

"I needed it," she said, looking at his startled expression.

Sigurd didn't know her language, but he understood what she wanted to say.

_____________________

(Part 2)

*sváss snót - sweet lady **heimskur – silly Pia sings Rihanna song 'Towards the sun'.

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hookedonapirate · 6 years

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To Play the Game (and win your heart)

Summary: Some people would call it a job, but to Emma and her sister, Milah, it’s a game of the heart. Play by the rules and you’ll never get hurt.

Whatever you call swindling wealthy men out of their money, this con-artist duo has it down to a tee. Milah sets up an available, rich man and gets him to marry her. Emma seduces and lures the husband into having an affair so he’ll get caught in the act. He then loses his money in the ensuing divorce.

The sisters wear a coat of armor around their hearts to keep them intact, but when they set their sights on their next mark, professional golfer Killian “Hook” Jones, Emma never imagined how hard the game could be and how easily her heart could be stolen—especially when she switches roles with Milah and becomes the one exchanging vows with the gorgeous multi-millionaire. Heartbreakers AU.

Artwork by: @distant-rose

Rating: Mature for connivery, vixen behavior and sexual themes.

Content Warnings: This story deals with conning and manipulation and also mentions/includes children with various disabilities, and also .

Author’s Notes: Thank you @captainswanbigbang and all of the moderators for organizing the event and for all of your help throughout the process.

A huge shout out goes to @ilovemesomekillianjones for all of her help with this fic. She really kicked some butt while beta reading, and if not for her, this story would not be what it is.

Thank you @distant-rose for stepping in as my artist. She is so talented and I can’t wait for everyone to see all of the art she has planned for this fic. She even made me a playlist for this story including Emma’s and Milah’s theme song, Homewrecker by Marina and the Diamonds, and some other great tracks that fit well with the theme of the fic.

Thank you @onceuponaprincessworld for all of her feedback and for her constant support and for letting me bounce ideas off of her during the process. Thank you @teamhook for her help and ideas with scenes I was struggling with.

There are 12 chapters, and I will be posting every Tuesday, so let me know if you would like to be tagged.

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

Also available on: AO3 FFnet

Artwork by @distant-rose

Ch 1 Art Ch 3 Art Ch 4 Art

Chapter 5: Let the Games Begin

~Rule #5: Play the crowd. When surrounded by strangers, take the opportunity to make eyes at a few of them to let your target know you can have any man you desire. Some may be turned off by the notion that they have competition, but a true competitor will either accept the challenge or find your obvious self-confidence attractive.~

“Emma! I’m so glad you could make it!” Mary Margaret greets exuberantly when Emma arrives at the golf course. It’s a perfect day to be on the green—warm and sunny without a cloud in sight.

Emma gives the woman a kind smile. “Thank you for inviting me as a volunteer. I’m honored to be a part of this fantastic event.”

“And we are happy to have you!” Mary Margaret is carrying a clipboard in one hand and grabbing Emma’s with the other as they start walking. “I will introduce you to the group you will be working with, but first thing’s first—are you single?”

Emma lifts a brow, eyeing her suspiciously. “Am I that transparent?”

The brunette laughs and shakes her head. “No, sorry, I was wondering because after the tournament, we’ll be holding a Date Auction where bachelorettes will be bid on for a date here at the country club. And I was wondering if you wanted to sign up? It’s basically a free dinner with some company.”

“Oh, I don't’ know…”

Mary Margaret stops and turns around, looking at her with pleading eyes. “Oh please, Emma. One woman dropped out at the last minute, so we need a replacement. As you know, it’s for a good cause. All of the proceeds go towards Hook’s foundation.”

Emma grimaces, not at all interested in being a doll one can bid on, nor having dinner with a rich snob who will undress her with his eyes the entire evening. However, when the bidder wins, Hook might get jealous when he sees her on a date with someone else, and the possibility of this intrigues Emma. Pondering whether she should or not, she thinks about what Milah would do and say about it, and makes her decision. “Okay, since it’s for a good cause, I'll do it. But I don’t have anything to wear, and I definitely can’t go on stage in this outfit.” Emma looks down at her sneakers, khaki shorts and tight blue tank top before looking up at Mary Margaret again.

The brunette grins and is practically jumping up and down. “Oh thank you, Emma! And don‘t worry about the outfit, just tell me your dress and shoe size and I‘ll do the rest.”

After writing down all the necessary information, Mary Margaret gives Emma a tour of the course, explaining the event in more detail. Each player has a pledge who has promised to sponsor a child of their choosing—a child they wish to see his or her dreams come true. The sponsors have also donated items to the raffle and would be bidding in the dating auction.

Hook’s agent goes on to explain the foundation and how it was born from a small group home for children who were living with developmental and physical disabilities and were isolated from society with no organized sports or socialized activities available to them. “Killian came to the kids offering these opportunities to them, along with a little hope and a lot of love. He wants nothing more than to help make these kids’ dreams come true.” Mary Margaret laughs a little, shaking her head at a thought. “Last Halloween, Ryan—one of the kids you’ll be working with—who was born with spinal muscular atrophy, wanted to be Captain Hook for Halloween because he always refers to Killian as the captain of the ship; he looks up to him and always says ‘I want to be just like Captain Hook’. So Killian had his wheelchair turned into a pirate ship.”

“Really?” Emma asks, thinking about that for a moment and starts putting the pieces together. “So, is this kid the reason why Killian named his yacht The Jolly Roger ?”

“Oh, yes. Ryan had suggested it when Killian was trying to think of a name for the new yacht. He wanted Killian to have his own Jolly Roger. How do you know about Killian’s boat anyway?” Mary Margaret asks suspiciously.

Crap.

“Umm... I don’t know, honestly, I think I heard it from someone at a bar or something. People talk a lot around here,” Emma laughs, trying to cover up the anxiety twisting in her stomach.

“They sure do,” the brunette agrees, and Emma sighs in relief as they approach a group of children. “Emma, this is the group you’ll be working with. Ryan over here, Chelsea, Hayley and Charly over there.”

“Charles,” the young boy corrects Mary Margaret—however he doesn’t look at her, and instead stares at Emma and smiles shyly, waving his fingers.

“There is also Anthony. He is Chelsea’s interpreter; he not only translates sign language, he also teaches her social and behavioral cues as well as management strategies for daily life, so eventually she won’t need any help.”

Emma greets the kids and shakes Anthony’s hand before she turns to Mary Margaret again, waiting for further instructions.

When Emma had accepted her offer, she didn't think about what this job would look like. Her primary goal at the time was to appear on Hook’s radar, begin her mission of collecting as much information as possible and to find ways to get close to him.

“You and your group can practice over there, and in an hour, the tournament will begin.” With that said, Mary Margaret hurries to a blonde man with a camera in his hands. Emma watches them kiss briefly before Mary Margaret slips back into manager mode and scurries off again.

Curious about who he is, Emma decides to store the question in the back of her mind for later and turns to her group.

“So, who wants to play some golf?”

$*$*$

“What do you think of her?” Killian’s eyes land on Emma, who is standing next to Ryan as he looks at the beautiful woman like he is looking directly at an angel. The young lad is confined to a wheelchair because of spinal muscular atrophy after being diagnosed at only ten months old; however, Killian has never seen a more self-confident kid before. Ryan smiles more than anyone Killian knows, he is eager to learn new things and is always the first who greets everyone and includes new people in every activity he is doing.

“I think she’s doing great. She’s a natural,” Mary Margaret answers as Killian studies the woman who haunts his dreams more and more every day.

“Aye,” Killian agrees, raising a brow. He’s been mesmerized by her since the moment he’d seen her, and is even more so as he sees how good she is with the kids.

When he hears clapping and cheering from the direction he was staring at just moments before, he looks up again and sees Emma beaming at Ryan.

“She is really great with the kids, isn’t she?” Mary Margaret suddenly asks. When her eyes meet his it’s she who raises a brow this time. “What is it, Killian?”

He shakes his head, averting his gaze to the scenery in front of him and watches Emma placing the ball in front of Ryan’s wheelchair, encouraging him to hit the ball again. When he does, another wave of cheers and applauds fill the air, and Killian smiles approvingly.

Emma walks to Hayley, a blind girl, and her friend Chelsea who is deaf. The two of them have the most beautiful friendship in Killian’s eyes. He had never imagined these two could be friends when he’d met them because a girl with no sight and a girl who can not hear is a combination which makes everyone scratch their head. But it works. Chelsea has someone with her who translates everything into sign language for her, however, Killian knows she is lip reading and is really good at it despite her young age. He can see she is concentrating on Hayley’s lips and not looking at her interpreter at all. This fact makes him smile.

He admires these young people who are able to cope with their disabilities so easily. Sometimes he forgets they are disabled at all; they are all so eager and enthusiastic, always giving their best and having fun together. But sometimes the dynamic between them doesn’t work without help. Chelsea’s and Hayley’s friendship only works when there is a third party who translates what Chelsea is saying. Because she isn’t able to speak well enough so that people can understand her, and Hayley is incapable of seeing her, a third party is essential. But neither of the girls has a problem with that. Killian often watches them interact as if they were two normal teenagers, talking about boys, school and other activities.

“Yay! Well done!” Emma’s chanting brings him back to reality once again.

His smile widens when he sees her standing behind Charles, a ten year old kid with autism who has a golf club in his hands. Killian watches as another ball is placed in front of Charles, and Emma wraps her arms around his little frame to help him hit the ball, which he does. Involuntarily, Killian thinks about when he was doing the same with her, and a shudder runs down his spine.

“Earth to Killian.” Mary Margaret’s amused voice makes him stop watching Emma and the kids, and instead he tries to concentrate on his manager. He slowly turns his head, his eyes glued to them as long as possible until he finally looks at Mary Margaret, seeing the amusement dancing in her eyes, matching the tone in her voice. “If you stare at her any harder you might drill a hole in her head.”

“I am not staring at her, I'm just seeing how she interacts with the children,” Killian starts to defend himself, but gives up quickly and sighs. “Alright alright, there is something about that woman which fascinates me. Maybe it’s her confident behavior, or maybe it’s how good she is with the kids. I don’t know.”

Now it’s Mary Margaret who is staring at Killian as she tilts her head—a dead giveaway that she’s thinking about possible answers and how to help him reach his goal (whatever it is this time).

Killian’s eyes trail back to Emma, who is helping Chelsea hit the ball. He can’t help himself, but this whole scene warms his heart. It seems he had entirely misunderstood Emma and had awoken this morning with a false impression of her, but who can blame him after how she has treated him thus far? He didn't take her as the kindest or most caring person at first. He’d thought maybe she was too stuck up to go on a date with him, or maybe if she did give in and let him take her out, he’d only end up with his heart broken. And he’d never expected her to work so well with the kids. Perhaps she actually is kind, she’s just not one to show who she truly is right off the bat.

“Well, why don’t you join the group and help her out a bit, and you two can—um—talk? The kids would love to see you.”

“Right. I could do that, but I think I need to check on something else beforehand,” he fibs, because he knows exactly what his agent’s intentions are, as innocent as she may seem.

“Like what?” Mary Margaret asks skittishly, and at the same time, Killian waves his hand in the air, greeting his friend Robin who shows up at the perfect moment.

“Locksley!”

$*$*$

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes, but inwardly she is already forming a plan to let Killian and Emma have a quiet moment for themselves. She can see Killian is bewitched by her, judging by the way he stares at her—the way he talks about her; she sees the fire in his eyes. It’s the same interest—no, the same passion —he normally shows during a competition.

Ignoring the men, Mary Margaret thinks about walking over to Emma and the kids, asking her if everything is okay, when suddenly an idea crosses her mind. She observes Emma looking in Killian’s direction, sees her smile at him and decides to take matters into her own hands.

“Hey, Robin, have you met Emma already?” Mary Margaret asks him with a mischievous grin, which grows bigger the moment she sees Killian’s shocked expression. “I would really like to introduce her to you. She is the one who is replacing Ariel tonight at the dinner auction.”

“She is?” Killian asks, perplexed and a tad too quickly to mask his eagerness to find the answer to his question. He swallows thickly, thinking about the implications.

Robin glances at him, surprised, while Mary Margaret suppresses a smile. She starts walking towards Emma and her group of kids, followed by the men.

Before she reaches them, David joins them, the camera now on his shoulder recording the walk to Emma and her group.

“Emma, how’s it going?” Mary Margaret asks when they approach.

“Everything's fine, I promise,” Emma assures with a small laugh.

“I had no doubts,” the brunette beams at her. “I was just wondering if you already knew Robin Locksley? He is married to the owner of the country club and is also one of the best golfers around.”

Emma shakes his hand, smiling at him. “Henry told me about you. You are his stepfather, aren’t you?”

Robin nods, grinning back at her. “That's right.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Locksley.”

“It’s Robin, lass, and it’s nice meeting you too. Mary Margaret was just telling us you will participate in the dinner auction later,” Robin remarks, offering a smirk. “Maybe I will try my luck and bid on a date with you.”

“Oi, mate! You are happily married,” Killian reminds him, a hint of jealousy in his tone. “Don’t let Regina hear that.”

“Oh come on, Hook, you only say that because you want to have her for yourself.”

Mary Margaret grins in success; she can’t tell who is blushing more—Emma who is trying to focus on the kids again, or Killian who is bashfully scratching behind his red tipped ear.

“We will have to wait and see who places the highest bid,” Mary Margaret chips in to avoid any awkward moments, and then looks at her husband, who is still recording the children. “Sweetie, can you lower the camera for two seconds? I want you to meet the volunteer I told you about.”

“This is her?” David does as he's asked and stops recording, lowering the camera to shake the other blonde’s hand.

“Emma, this is my husband, David. He’s the camera operator if you couldn’t already tell,” Mary Margaret introduces proudly.

“Ah, I figured you didn't normally go around kissing the camera crew,” Emma says with a smile and turns her eyes to David. “It's nice to meet the other half of the kind woman who invited me to volunteer at this wonderful event.”

“You too, Emma. And she is definitely the better half,” David remarks, winking at his wife.

“I tend to disagree,” Mary Margaret blushes at him; she could easily get lost in her husband's eyes, so she immediately shifts her focus to Killian, maintaining her professionalism. “Hook, didn’t you want to talk to the kids? I think this would be a great moment for David to record, right, honey?”

The blonde man smiles at her. “It’s good to collect some impressions of the preparation for the tournament, and having the owner of the foundation interacting with the children is a great idea. Also, having my lovely wife here who is organizing the whole event is an even better bonus.” He briefly presses his lips to hers before lifting the camera to his shoulder again.

“David!” Mary Margaret hisses, her cheeks flushed, but it’s evident on her face she is enjoying the little affection from her man. It’s not difficult to miss the uneasiness on Killian’s face, though, at the possible implications that he is hosting this event for publicity reasons. But, everyone here knows better. Mary Margaret can see how everyone admires him for his good heart—even Emma who doesn't know him very well.

She’s just glad she’d decided to not set up Killian on a date after he’d mentioned her over the phone the other day, hoping Emma would come to the event. However, she has to admit she feels guilty about signing Emma up for the auction in hopes that Killian would become jealous and take matters into his own hands, but she has a feeling these two will find a way to each other's hearts, even if it takes a little persuasion.

$*$*$

David films the interaction between Emma, Hook and the group for a while before Mary Margaret is off to go help with a problem somewhere else, taking David with her. Emma isn’t so sure there is an actual problem, but she would never call out her newfound friend, who also might be handy for her mission and for information about Hook. He and Robin have to leave a short time later, much to the dismay of the kids and Emma, although she would never admit that.

Emma tries to concentrate on her task, but her thoughts are already on the auction. She has no idea what to do or how to behave exactly. She isn’t even sure why she’d accepted Mary Margaret’s request. Was it to help her out? Was it to find a way of making Hook jealous? Robin’s comment makes her rethink the whole idea. She knows she already has a chance to have a date with Hook soon—all she has to do is say the word, but she’s starting to think whether signing up for the auction was a good idea or not. She hopes Hook will become jealous when he sees her with another man, but what if he doesn’t accept the challenge? What if he finds some other woman at dinner who demands his attention? And what will Milah really think about the whole situation? Emma wishes she could call her sister now for some advice.

She doesn’t want to make Milah angry with her decisions, but she also knows she has to make her own if she wants to be the lead in this game. Milah always knows what to do and how to make things happen, so why can’t Emma do it this time? Technically she’s already made her decision and now she has to live with the consequences. So why does this decision make her feel so nervous?

People are starting to arrive, so Emma suggests heading over to the clubhouse to eat something before the tournament starts. The kids start to hurry towards the clubhouse as Emma pushes Ryan’s wheelchair. He thanks her for the lovely day they’ve had so far, and Emma feels touched by his words; this is one thing she will never regret. Being with the kids, helping them and getting to know them better warms her heart. She cannot wait to watch the tournament, root for her group and enjoy the afternoon with them. She also hopes to gather some information about Hook while being here today, surrounded by people who know him better than she does.

While chewing on her grilled cheese sandwich, she tries to analyse her progress in seducing Hook. When she sees him chatting with a studious looking brunette, Emma pauses for a moment, suddenly remembering him asking her to be his date outside of Marco’s. Her mouth is still full when realization hits her hard. He won’t be alone at dinner. Emma is convinced Mary Margaret didn't allow him to show up alone, and has set this woman up as his date.

Emma’s stomach is in knots now, her appetite completely gone. She doesn’t want anyone else to be Killian’s date; she wants to be his date. The moment the thought crosses her mind, all of the blood drains from her face, and she feels ill. What’s happening here? Is she really falling for her target? No, she only feels this way because she is afraid someone else will snatch him up and ruin the con. She shouldn't be worried though. She enjoys a little competition. She's had lots of practice stealing men from Milah—the woman they saw as their wife—so Emma's certainly not worried about some rich, snobby twat.

But just to be safe, Emma finishes her sandwich and passes the two, hoping Killian will see her. She keeps her eyes forward, but when he doesn't say anything, she looks in his direction. Killian hasn't even noticed her presence, he’s still talking to the brunette and smiling. Emma suddenly feels like she can't breathe, thinking she has lost him. But she chooses not to give up, so she boldly makes her way over to her future husband. His gaze finally peels away from the woman, and his lips twitch into a small smirk as she approaches.

“Killian, I just wanted to wish you good luck on the event; I know it will be a complete success,” Emma says sweetly as she curls both hands around his arm, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. Even with a quick, subtle gesture, she can hear his breath hitch at the contact.

“Thank you, love. I do hope so. And I'm glad you’re here.” He nods towards the woman in front of him, so Emma turns to face the brunette, looping her arm through his. “Emma, this is Regina Mills. She is the owner of the country club. Regina, this is Emma Swan. She is one of our volunteers for the day.”

Emma is relieved as she shakes the woman's hand with her free one. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Regina says, eyeing her suspiciously. “I haven't seen you around here. Are you new in town?”

“Yeah, I’m from Boston.”

Regina’s already high brows curve upward, expressing her curiosity. “Well, you’re a long way from home, then. What brings you here?”

“I just needed a fresh start,” Emma assures a bit nervously. She’s no longer worried about her being with Killian because she knows Regina is married to Robin, but this woman seems very intense, and Emma has an inkling she does not want to be on her bad side.

Regina’s eyes widen in realization. “Right, you’re the new member my son had mentioned.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Emma says with a polite smile.

“Alright, I think that’s enough interrogation, Regina,” Killian says a bit sternly. “We want her here, not to scare her off.”

Regina’s lips finally break out into a friendly smile. “My apologies, Miss Swan. Didn’t mean to pry. I’ll leave you to it. Again it was nice meeting you.” With those words said, she walks away leaving Emma with Killian as she keeps an eye on the children sitting at the table across the room.

“I’m sorry about her, love. She does that with all the newcomers.”

Emma swallows thickly, hoping this woman isn't someone she has to worry about ruining her plans, but she chooses to shrug it off. “It’s fine. I have nothing to hide,” she says, and Killian looks at her with a small smile.

“Oh, I think you do.”

Emma's eyes widen at that. Does he know what she's planning? Shit! She's completely screwed! “You do?”

Killian nods with certainty, and Emma swallows thickly, bracing herself for the worst. “Aye, I think you prefer to be a bit reserved,” he concurs, wagging a flirty brow, “which is good because I do enjoy a little mystery.”

With a breath of relief, Emma is smiling uncontrollably and rolling her eyes. “That’s good because I’m not one to give away all of my secrets at once. Not that I care about what you enjoy.”

Unconvinced, Killian bites his bottom lip, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m not so sure about that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous when you came over here claiming me as yours.”

Emma blushes and tears her eyes away, watching the kids. “I was not jealous.”

“Oh really? Then why can't you look me in the eye when you say it?” he teases.

Emma laughs and shakes her head, returning her gaze to him. “Not saying I was, but if I were, would that scare you away?”

Killian shrugs and looks like he has to mull over the possible answer for a moment before leaning in and whispering in her ear, “I’m not running, now am I?”

The sound of his deep, silky accent vibrates in her ear, shooting down her spine. She tilts her head slightly, just enough so her cheek brushes against the sharp stubble on his face and she whispers back, “Good, because maybe I was a little jealous. You told me Mary Margaret was going to pressure you into procuring a date, so I thought Regina was her.”

“Well surprisingly, my agent let me off the hook this time,” Killian clarifies. “So, no date to speak of.”

Emma sighs in relief, never tearing her eyes from his. In all honesty, she enjoys being on his arm like this, enjoys the heat between them, but almost as soon as it’s there, they have to seperate.

“Killian, the ceremony is about to begin,” Mary Margaret informs him when she approaches with a soft smirk, seeing how close they are.

“I’m right behind you,” he assures his agent before reverting his soft, blue eyes to Emma, “but make no mistake… this is not me running away.” He pulls his arm away and lifts her hand to confirm his statement with a gentle kiss on the back of her knuckles, making Emma shudder, the entirety of her skin igniting with goosebumps. Killian steps back, his cheeks painted with blush as he slowly releases her hand and gets one last glimpse of her before turning and walking away.

Emma watches him, her mouth hung open, surprised she’s not a puddle of liquid on the floor right now.

The opening ceremony begins and Killian gives the audience a fantastic speech before the tournament. Emma easily sees he’d started the foundation out of the kindness of his heart and not for publicity. She can see it in his eyes when he speaks about these young people and how they have changed his life. Once again her conscience is gripped with guilt. How can she even think of ripping a man’s heart to pieces when his heart is so full of love and warmth and passion? But perhaps he is strong willed. Emma has a feeling this man can overcome anything. He’s an athlete and he wouldn’t be one of the best golfers in the world if he didn’t know how to handle his shit.

Emma guides the children to their position for the tee off when it's time for the tournament to begin. She's a bit nervous with the crowds and cameras, especially when she sees a spectator who keeps staring at her, uninterested in the children or how well they're playing, only her. He’s tall and lanky and dressed obnoxiously with a flat cap, a bright yellow polo shirt, an ugly sweater vest and plaid pants. Every time Emma moves to the next hole with the children, he is following and observing her. She starts to feel uneasy under his gaze, so instead, she keeps her focus on the children.

She listens to Hayley talking, when it’s not her turn, about Killian and how she thinks he may look depending on his voice and scent, his behavior around them and everything she’s heard about him so far. She smiles when Chelsea joins her, using signing and her interpreter to describe how he looks. She mentions he has pretty lips and is very handsome, and they both snicker to themselves. Emma really tries to concentrate on Charles, who’s trying to get the ball in the hole, but now she is too distracted by the words of the girls and their effect on her.

Before Emma had arrived at the tournament, she didn’t really expect to enjoy herself. Or at least she hadn’t expected to enjoy herself with the kids. But she has to admit, interacting with them and helping them has turned out to be very rewarding. In fact, by the end of the tournament, Emma is sad to say goodbye.

“Bye, Emma. Will we see you again?” Charles asks hopefully, and Emma smiles and nods her head.

“I hope so.” She watches as her group files into the bus, Ryan’s wheelchair being lifted into the back, and she waves at the other kids as they look out the windows and wave back at her.

“The children really like you, don’t they?” Mary Margaret’s voice is heard from behind, and Emma turns around holding a small smile.

“You think so? I know they have really grown on me,” Emma admits honestly, and it feels good to tell such a wonderful truth. “And they all did a fantastic job today.”

“Perhaps you would be a good fit as a volunteer at the activity center?”

“It’s certainly something to think about,” Emma replies, and she doesn’t think it’s such a bad idea. She really did enjoy working with the children, and there’s something pulling at her gut telling her she should back out of this whole thing, but she doesn’t want to. She wants to help these children and spend time with them, and she wants to get close to Killian and be a part of his life.

As they start walking towards the clubhouse, Emma sees the same man from earlier who is now chatting with another sponsor and is still watching her. She had earlier learned his name is Oscar and he was Chelsea's pledge; he had donated money to watch her play, which sickened Emma a bit, because the man is oozing with creepy vibrations.

“What's the deal with him?” Emma asks Mary Margaret as she makes a subtle gesture towards him.

“Oscar? Oh, don't pay attention to him. He’s a former PGA Player of the Year champion and jealous of Killian because he’s broken numerous golf records and has had more wins and more success. Oscar only showed up to this event to try and prove to Killian he is the better man, but no one actually buys his facade. He's only here hoping Killian will fail somehow, but he's severely delusional,” Mary Margaret shakes her head. “We only allowed him to attend because he promised to donate a considerable amount of money to the organization.”

“Ah, I see.” Emma studies him carefully as he walks away.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m in need of a shower and a change of clothes.”

“Me too,” Emma agrees. She is sweating from the heat, her clothes clinging to her skin, and she feels gross and certainly not prepared to stand on stage and attend a fancy dinner with rich folks.

When the two go inside, she is greeted by Henry in the lobby, and the big square gift box he’s holding, which is wrapped in a bright blue bow.

Arching a brow, Emma gapes at it suspiciously. “What’s this?”

“Not sure. I guess you’ll have to see for yourself,” Henry replies with a shrug. “But I’ll give you a hint—it’s from someone who was informed you were in need of an outfit for the evening.”

Eyeing the small envelope taped to the box, she very skittishly looks up and glances between Henry and Mary Margaret whose smiles are both dripping with mischief. Removing the card from the envelope, she reads the note.

Swan,

You helped me with my attire for the evening, now I am helping you with yours. Hope you like the dress. See you tonight.

—Killian Jones

Emma blushes as she lifts her gaze, and sees the two still staring at her.

“See? I told you not to worry,” Mary Margaret says and comes over, linking her arm with Emma’s. “Now that we have that taken care of, let me show you to the locker rooms.”

Tagging: @mayquita @freakassbuthunter @libbcoxnet-blog @goldengirlschildhood @courtorderedcake @florenzu @marcella2727 @veryverynotgood @i-would-cross-realms-4-her @hooklineandswan @wonderfullycarriedaway @0swald-c0bblep0t @cs-forlife @andiirivera @snotelek @capswantrue @nikkiemms @capswantrue @swansong12 @lg-campbell @lassluna @followbatb @harshini01 @betchesgetshitdone @coliferoncer @ultraluckycatnd @resident-of-storybrooke @kinkyhiddlesgirl @teamhook

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan big bang #csbb #heartbreakers au #to play the game (and win your heart)#my fic

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the-anticlimax-that-is-life · 5 years

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Quick update, I guess?

Up and down and all around;

I want to share the pretty nice weekend I had.

Last Thursday didn’t start too well, as may have been pretty obvious by my ‘yaaaaaaaay, I feel guilty .........’ post..

But well, I decided to drink some booze anyway, and it actually worked out really fucking well; I had a wonderful evening with my husband, we ‘fooled around some’(wink-wink) and watched a funny movie afterwards. The typical stuff ‘normal’ people would do, right? It all felt pretty good; I felt pretty good.

Even though it took quite a few drinks, it felt natural.

I can even remember feeling calm and content, my mind being pretty quiet for once.

Usually, these kind of moods only last a short while, and this ‘calm intoxication’ usually ends in a breakdown or anxiety if not even panic attacks.

But this time, it didn’t. And that’s awesome.

I didn’t even feel tired the next day.The fact that I don’t work on Friday morning was also really helpful, so I could sleep it off, I guess?

So on Friday afternoon, I had a normal working shift, nothing too special. Was okay. That client is pretty chill. His home is pretty dirty each week, so I feel like I am actually helping him out. He also never complains or asks anything more of me than what I am expect to do.(I even sometimes do extra stuff around the house for him, BECAUSE he doesn’t take me for granted..)

On my way home, my cousin sent me this invitation for this board game event. She told me that she planned on playing board-games and the like with ‘strangers’ each Friday, and told me I could join if I wanted to.

So I did. I went there. Me, meeting up with complete strangers to play games. I guess the advantage was that these people also didn’t know each other, so everyone would feel awkward? I don’t know.. I was pretty nervous..

But I am so glad I crossed that barrier and joined!

I had a wonderful evening, even stayed till 2 oçlock - I had to walk over an hour to get home because there was no public transportation available at that point - no regrets! (I did have a minor anxiety attack, but I would like not to focus on that too much. It was basically that I had such a great time, that the weight of it all just crashed down on me? - I mean, the whole life/death/existence thing - it’s odd..)

The next day I had a meet-up with this girl who I had only seen once before at someone else’s birthday, We had been talking a bit through whats-app, and we decided to meet up.

She is.. Pretty much like me, but even more.. Expressive, I guess? This was actually one of the first times in a while where I felt a real connection with someone. Since it was just the two of us and we had similar.. Issues and experiences (?) we were able to talk boundary free about stuff that would usually feel pretty awkward.

She also made quite an impact on me. She is also visually disabled, but I didn’t really know before now how good or bad her eyes were. Turns out her eyes are even more fucked than mine. It was so odd to meet someone just as stubborn as me, with even shittier eyes.. I wouldn’t say it OPENED MY EYES, but perhaps this can help me put things in perspective some more/? I mean, there are so many things I rage about not being able to see.. And it is pretty fucking disabling.. But I can do so much more than I am aware of. Not to say she can’t, but more in a way that.. By seeing her do things with even shittier eyes, by seeing her make mistakes or mess up simple things.. It made me realise.. What does it actually matter? We can’t choose the bodies we are born in, so why feel responsible for dealing with stuff our own way? (Dayum there is a lot of deeper layers in that statement lol.)

Words are failing me. Let’s just say I look up to her, a lot. I see my younger self in her, the person I was before all went down. And I am not even sad. I am touched, simply touched.

When I think of my younger self, I often shake it off by thinking: ‘Ugh, pathetic fool. Who were you pretending for?’

But this girl I met.. I don’t think she was pretending.

And you know what? I have come to realise.. I don’t think younger me was pretending either.

We can’t choose the bodies we are born in, so why feel responsible for dealing with stuff our own way?

We are so much more than the boundaries society tries to force on us based on how we were born.

PS.

Fuck the system!

PPS.

Today my husband and I went for a walk in the forest. We decided to pick up some groceries on our way back. Since we hadn’t had lunch yet, we bought some bread. When we sat ourselves down, surrounded by this flock of birds, we figured that we weren’t the only ones that were hungry..

Some pigeons were courageous enough to actually climb on top of us.. And it was so much fun. :)

PPPS.

I actually decided to write this all down just to end it with ‘..and even after all that, I still feel down..’ but you know what? Looking back at all this, reflecting and all.. I actually feel better. And even if that is just for now, it is good enough for me.

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ihavenoside · 6 years

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Tagged by: @saviour-in-disguise Tagging: @chloemodelrt600 @neverwither @parisian-eagle @stayhuman-genevieve @flawsinourcxde (corwin?) @fraegi @boundinmybones @forensiicanalysis @mikhailthefixer @strictauthority @hakamorraf @kyojin-daelko @replicantdeviancy @becameinhumxne and anyone else who’d like!

— BASICS.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE? Connor’s heights unknown but the general headcanon is that he’s 6ft0. so tall.

▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT ? Yes, he’s never been bothered but it and feels to be average height compared to other’s he’s been around. Aka Hank and Markus are taller.

▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE? Short, brown, a little longer on top so he’s hair to kind of hangs over like it does.

▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING?

Connor doesn’t sleep so he doesn’t have many reasons for his hair to be messed up. If it does, a little water and running his hands through his hair should fix it without much issue. so no.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK ? He cares about his appearance and how he sees himself but he’s also not worn much outside of his Cyberlife attire. He didn’t seem very comfortable in his Jericho outfit and will probably continue to gravitate towards more business causal clothing because it’s all he’s ever known. If people don’t like it, he’s not to bothered by it.

Despite keeping his LED because it’s part of who he is, he’ll ditch the Cyberlife jacket or at least disable the identifiers on it until be can get/find something better. The only thing he really cares about when it comes to how others see him if they still see him as the Deviant Hunter. Which he knows some will and some might never see him as anything but that.

— PREFERENCES.

▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS? He’ll want to be outdoors mostly because I feel like he’s spent most of his time indoors. In Cyberlike, in the DPD, in a building. He’s not had much of a chance to adventure out and he’ll want too to see and discover new things.

▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE? He likes the rain, it beings a sense of calm over the city. It’s often peaceful and storms are an interesting thing to watch. If he’s stuck outside in it, he’s waterproof so the rain doesn’t bother him.

▸ FOREST OR BEACH? Both, each would give a new opportunity and experience considering he’s not stepped outside of the city.

▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS? I think he would like gems simply because they vary a lot in colors, shape, and value.

▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES? Flowers would visually be more interesting to look at.

▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE? Personality means more than appearance but it’s also a trick question. Your appearance and personality can both make you look like a bad person but it doesn’t mean that's who they truly are. It's understanding why they are perceived that way, is where their true colors shine and Connor’s an example of that.

▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD? I feel like Connors used to being alone or happiest in the company of at least one other person. If he’s in a crowd, I think he’s like to hang back and observe the conversation or event.

▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY? Order over anarchy. He’s programmed for order but with order sometimes comes with unfairness, which sometimes needs to give way to anarchy so order can be restored.

▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES? Painful truths, whether people like it or not, facts are facts to him and doesn’t necessarily have a filter to know when he should tell a white lie unless he starts picking up on it.

▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC? Both. There is a science to everything, in which he can understand but magic is the art of despection, which can be very useful.

▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT? Peace is ideal, he’d rather avoid conflict if possible.

▸ NIGHT OR DAY? Night. Again, it brings a calm over the city. Plus the city looks more interesting all lit up.

▸ DUSK OR DAWN?

Dawn, the same reason, most people are still asleep and most things are quite still. Plus the morning hues are nice to see.

▸ WARMTH OR COLD ?

Warmth. While the cold won’t bother him... generally. If he becomes cold or for some reason he can’t regulate his core temperature, he’ll become highly stressed and possibly prone to panic. He has a fear of the cold thanks to his AI almost freezing to death in the Zen garden after Cyberlife resumed control over his programming. While this was more mental, physical would feel worse because the cold would cause an instability in his systems, which could cause him to shake as it’s working harder to fix the instability, which is another form of losing control over himself and would just mess with his head. Please don’t let the boy be cold.

▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS? I think he’d have many acquaintances and would want to befriend all of them but he also knows not everyone’s going to like him so he’d appreciate those that consider him a friend. It’s a little weird because he’d want to be Gavin's friend but Gavins not likely to ever like him but if he finds out someone else considered him a friend, he’ll admire that more.

▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME? Playing a game, it's a good distraction and because there is so much variety in them, he’d enjoy it a lot as well as be quiet good at them.

— QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS?

He’s reckless but often in a way that he freaks people out but he knows exactly what he’s doing. Like be able to run out into traffic and not die lol. which often leaves him confused to why people are upset.

He doesn’t know how to ask for help when he needs it because when he needed it, no one came so he’d basically learned he needs to handle things on his own and not rely too heavily on anyone.

It’s in his nature to ask a lot of questions, even if those questions should seem obvious or possibly inappropriate.

▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM?

No, he hasn’t but Connor’s a new unit and hasn’t had much time to form strong bonds with anyone but he has lost people, even if they where strangers. That has still affected him on a deeper level the more he reflects on it. Emma, the little girl from the hostage mission bothers him the most. A human life was lost and he failed to prevent it. He also sympathizes with Rupert and the Traci's because of him, they’re also dead and they didn’t deserve that. He regrets having to kill 10 army men during the revolution, 10 more people who won’t return home to their families and feels guilty over it despite everything but also doesn’t know how to properly handle the grief he feels.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS?

Again, he’s a new unit so the list is short and simple. One would be the day he got to meet and pet Sumo, tied with that would be the day the DPD the officer he saved in the hostage mission pulled him aside and genuinely thank him for saving his life. Tied with that, is the day he learned Cyberlife hadn’t removed him from the expense account and bought a half a mill car because it was made in the year Hank was born.

▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL?

It’s hard to say because he was built to hunt his kind and programmed to handle weapons. so I want to say yes and he hates it? He never wants to take a life but in the heat of the moment, it’s to easy for him to pull the trigger and go for the killing blow.

▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN?

Connor hasn’t felt geniune loss to the degree that he’d want to break down and cry. Unfortunately, he deals with his grief, fear, anger and stress in the same way he’s seen other deviants and humans do, which is to isolate themselves and hide. He also has the added notion of being this state of the art machine but is showing to be no better than the deviants he was programmed to track down. So he feels like he should be in much better control of his emotions and he’s not.

This leaves him in a high stressed state while he tries to understand and sort through his emotions which will either end in him getting kicked into a sleep mode, become so physically/mental drained that he’s no longer able to focus on what had previously been bothering him, which is basically the state before he’s kicked into a sleep mode or finds a way to distract himself and evade the emotion altogether because he doesn’t know how else to handle them. His life basically dependent on how well he could portray being a machine so Cyberlife wouldn’t suspect him of deviating when he wasn’t even sure if he was deviating himself. It’s a habit he’s also not broken since becoming a deviant. So for the most part he can hide his stress well.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE?

Yes. it’s more or less based on people not killing him when they had the chance too. This would consist of Hank, not shooting him at the bridge, Markus sparing his life twice and North considering shes capable of letting him deviate too. (this also applies to threads in which someone saves his life)

▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE?

No idea. He’s far too focused on working through his other emotions. He has no idea what love is because no one has remotely shown him love let alone genuine kindness. Hank in his case has more or less tolerated him up until the end of the game when Connor was willing to give up his mission so that Hank could live. Aside from that, the only time someone has shown him kindness was the officer pulling him aside and thanking him for saving his life. Connor’s so taken back by this, that he smiles and slightly nods at the thanks because he doesn’t know how else to respond.

#Software Glitch Detected: OOC #Installed Code: Headcanon #I Have No Side: Connor #i've done this before but i dont think i went to details lol #I've been working on and off this for like 3 days lol #long post

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ninety-three-million-miles · 7 years

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“Human cruelty can be infinite. Human generosity can be boundless.”

Original Post:

It’s been seven hours since my first class ended and I still feel just physically wrong.

From under the “Core Values” header for the department that hosts my counseling grad program:

“Multiculturalism and Social Justice: We believe in developing leaders, educators, counselors, and therapists who will advocate for equity and inclusion in the professional settings in which they serve. We believe in challenging all forms of discrimination, including race, class, gender, disability, sexual orientation, religion, in our local, national, and global community and in working as change agents to undermine oppression.“

I feel so naïve. I believed that with no hesitation.

Today, Counseling Theories class: fifteen students. We’re discussing our values as individuals, and how it is ethically critical that as counselors, we do not attempt to impart our values on our clients. Our professor asks us to partner off and take a look at the following slide, showing possible types of people we could easily encounter throughout our careers, and discuss where our ability to be neutral reaches its limits.

Some items are repeated on the slide, but here’s what it lists:

adolescent girl who wants to explore her feelings about whether to have an abortion

gay or lesbian couple who want to explore their relationship problems and/or who want to discuss their desire to adopt a child

person who is troubled over an extramarital affair but is not ready to give up the relationship

person who has a great deal of hostility towards any form of religion

person who has extremely strong fundamentalist beliefs

person whose basic value system includes the attempt to use and exploit others for [their] own personal gain

a friend who wants you to “fix” their troubled marriage or relationship with [their] child

white supremacist who opposes any “mixing” of ethnic groups

a drug dealer who is court-ordered to therapy

teenager who is having unsafe sex with several partners and sees no problem with his behavior

middle school student who wants to explore her sexual orientation

someone who has told you he has put a person in the hospital from a violent assault and is not remorseful

interracial couple wanting to adopt a child and being faced with their respective parents’ opposition to adoption

person who angrily opposes the policies of the US government

parent who wants to discuss the importance of “capital punishment” for [their] child

court-ordered convicted pedophile

other???

The person I partner with looks at that list, and one of the two groups where they said they saw an insurmountable conflict with their values was.. the LGBT couple. And when the class was sharing their different challenge areas, another student said the same thing. When she did, four additional students nodded along emphatically. Both my partner and the student who spoke up in front of the class specified that they wouldn’t be comfortable meeting with these hypothetical people because they are morally opposed to non-heterosexuality, and because being around LGBT people makes them “very uncomfortable.”

They looked at a list that included a pedophile, a sociopath, a white supremacist, and a child abuser, and they drew the line at two women who were in love.

In response, the professor was just super understanding of that and did absolutely nothing beyond unreservedly validating those students’ qualms.

On the first day of this class, this professor also mentioned that we have these online forum/discussion assignments with our other students. and she was telling an anecdote of how things got really nasty with a former class. Evidently, one female student was talking about her personal experience with a topic and she said “my wife” in passing. And another student commented on her post saying that she disagreed with the first student’s ~lifestyle choices~ etc.

The professor’s commentary on that situation was that she didn’t know who was more in the wrong. She wasn’t sure if it was inappropriate for the female student to mention her wife because it made another student “uncomfortable”— a student who then proceeded to attack her in a public forum, derailing the conversation about counseling theory that was supposed to be taking place. And the professor thought that both students shared equal responsibility for how the interaction soured.

This one class session has changed my whole feeling about the course, if not the entire program — because I’m evidently back in a place where who i am as a person is a polarizing political statement. I thought I left that behind for the most part when I left Texas, when I chose a school whose program specifically identifies addressing and eradicating discrimination and oppression as part of its core values.

All of this on the heels of a weekend spent in Texas, where my first night was supposed to be a relaxing casual get-together of my brother’s friends and whatnot. And the topic turned to how multiple people at the table believed non-heterosexuality was a sin. And to one of my brother’s friends bragging — bragging — that his pastor was one of the people who signed the fucking Nashville statement. And my brother, who knows everything, who used to support me before changing his mind and deciding that being bisexual was a sin, of course said nothing. Did nothing. I shut the fuck down.

The entire duration of that three-hour class, I was shaking. I could feel my heart hammering for hours. It was all I could do to keep from crying in front of everyone. I just feel so fucking stupid. I really thought that by moving away from Texas, by moving out of my parents’ place, that I was putting the majority of this behind me. I assumed that this program was a safe space because that’s how it advertised itself. I assumed that being a remorselessly malicious person, an abuser, or someone full of ignorance and hatred would be seen as more difficult than being someone like me.

I am reminded that I still have no sense of community. I don’t even have most of my friends right now. I have no therapist. And the only LGBT person I have ever really been close to is my ex-girlfriend, who is happily in a relationship on the other side of the country. My boyfriend is as supportive of possible, and I appreciate him so much for that, but right now that feels like a pebble in an ocean when I need an island.

I feel tired and alone and unlovable. And it’s week three of classes.

Message from a total stranger (nightowllucas):

I'm so sorry you had a horrible couple of days, and I'm even more sorry to say that you'll probably have to get through other situations like this in the future, though probably not as much as in Texas (considering what I've heard of it, since I'm not even american). I'm nowhere near an expert in this, but I really believe you should look for LGBT friendly spaces and get to know people in the community, I'm not sure if you are able to due to social anxiety or maybe other problems, but the sense of community you'll get from them really helps in a situation like this, even if they're just someone you could vent to that will understand where you're coming from. Some gays/lesbians might be prejudiced because you are in a straight relationship, I've heard too many stories about this to disregard it as a possible issue, but I believe (I have to) that you will find people who you can bond with.

Other than that, is there a way to make a formal complaint at your school regarding what happened? I mean, this situation/professor is going against against their core values, so maybe something will come out of it? As a gay man, I'm way too disbelieving in the world, but it doesn't hurt to try, specially if you can do it anonymously. If nothing can be done I'd say you have to look after yourself and consider if you can continue studying there of it is gonna bring you problems (i.e mental health)

If you need to, feel free to reach out to me in the future, even if it's just to talk things out. Here's hoping you'll be able to get through this, follow the career you want and help as many people as possible as a councelor.

My response:

Holy shit. Thank you so much. This is so unbelievably kind. I’m honestly floored.. I can’t believe you took the time to type all of this out for a total stranger.

I emailed my professor at like 5 this morning because I hadn’t fallen asleep yet asking if we could meet (she has no office hours) and she hasn’t yet responded. I don’t expect that meeting to be particularly productive, but I feel like before I can go to a higher level (administration for my program, something of the like), I ought to try and resolve this directly first. I’m just still kind of reeling. And I was agonizing for hours over whether or not it was even appropriate for me to set up a meeting to express my concerns and clarify my expectations for conduct. Which then prompted me to get pissed off that I was debating whether or not I had the right to advocate for myself (during a lecture that was, no shit, supposed to be largely about advocacy), while the people who said those things during class didn’t think for a single second about whether or not they should consider what impact their remarks might have on other students.

You’re definitely right about having a sense of community. I’ve always been too afraid to seek it out very directly for a few reasons (one of which is being bi, especially currently being in a relationship with a man), but I’m recognizing that I’m really going to need something like that. So I looked up my school’s LGBTQ center and they’re having a discussion group tonight. They said on the website to call the wellness center for the location, so I did. The first time I called I got hung up on... and the second time I called I was transferred to a second person who also didn't have the information... she said she would pass on my contact info to the woman running the meeting if she saw her and that she would "hopefully be able to get back to me within a day.” I even specified that it was somewhat urgent. I’ve heard nothing so far and the group is supposedly in a few hours.

Sometimes I wish I were more stereotypically/”visibly” LGBT or something. People constantly talk very openly about “people like me” to my face without realizing that they’re doing it. I know I’ll have to face people with intolerant views when working with clients, but I’d been led at every possible juncture to believe that attitudes like the ones expressed in class yesterday were not welcome among colleagues in this program. I can even understand allowing a space for students to discuss those issues without being punished for it, but I feel like it’s the faculty’s job to then invite the student to challenge their prejudices as opposed to unequivocally validating them. I can’t imagine that my professor would have responded the same way if a student had said they were unwilling to work with people of color due to a belief that they were inherently inferior/morally depraved or some such bullshit. I don’t understand why it’s okay to express those views about people like you or me. But standing up for myself in most contexts, especially in a formal one like this, is almost completely new for me (and it has NOT ended well the few times I’ve tried in the past). But I’m not okay with being quiet on this. I’m just not.

Anyway. Honestly, thank you so much. Even having one person reach out like this who has some sense of understanding (and, it sounds like, well-learned jadedness) and such remarkable compassion.

As an aside: I'm finding that starting this counseling program has been a really good motivator for me to find effective coping strategies and productive behaviors. Like even though I feel personally incredibly overwhelmed and discouraged and a desire to isolate or be otherwise destructive, I have a harder time letting myself give into that because it goes against all of my values as an aspiring counselor, and because I can't expect my future clients to have the courage to do the tough shit if I can't even find it in myself. So that at least is a good thing.

#o #origin

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ohmontague · 7 years

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❝ ❀ ☕ ✎ *.:｡ Belle Desrosiers + 100 Questions

Basic Character Questions First name? Isabelle Surname? Desrosiers Middle names? Christine Nicknames? Belle, worm (by Maurice), Beauty Date of birth? September 4, 1993 Age? 23

Physical / Appearance Height? 5’4” Weight? Average Build? Slender Hair colour? Medium brown Hair style? Mid-length Eye colour? Brown Eye Shape? Wide Glasses or contact lenses? Glasses for driving (too many years of reading below the cover with a flashlight shot her eyesight) Distinguishing facial features? Large brown eyes Which facial feature is most prominent? Eyes Which bodily feature is most prominent? Hair Other distinguishing features? Wide smile Skin? Pale, clear Hands? Small, lithe fingers. Usually sans nail polish or rings (they get in the way, and frankly, she gets frustrated by constantly having to reapply nail polish) Make up? Simple Scars? None Birthmarks? None Tattoos? None Physical handicaps? Nearsighted Type of clothes? Vintage and French inspired How do they wear their clothes? Neatly, though she doesn’t have time to iron/press What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc): Wears clean flat shoes (boots or flats) Race / Ethnicity? White, Jewish Mannerisms?: bits lip, fidgets, plays with hair, picks at nail polish Are they in good health? Yes Do they have any disabilities? No

Personality What words or phrases do they overuse? “Beautiful”, “classic”, “ridiculous”, “I was reading”/”I saw this documentary”/”I heard about” Do they have a catchphrase? See above (she’s constantly reading wikipedia articles or reading useless trivia websites and can’t help but find everything fascinating) Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic Are they introverted or extroverted? Introverted Do they ever put on airs? Not really What bad habits do they have? See mannerisms What makes them laugh out loud? Bad jokes, physical comedy, satire How do they display affection? Lots of physical contact, looking after people when they’re sad, buying little gifts, “I saw this thing online and thought of you”, saying she loves people Mental handicaps? Socially anxious How do they want to be seen by others? Smart, witty feminist How do they see themselves? Anxious bookish nerd How are they seen by others? Passionate feminist nerd Strongest character trait? Imaginative Weakest character trait? Headstrong How competitive are they? She can be in the right situations Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? She can make snap judgments about people’s character How do they react to praise? Depending on the person giving, either blushing or a heart “Thank you!” How do they react to criticism? Depending on the person, she either snaps or sulks (harsh criticism); genuine criticism has fairly varied reactions, depending on what the person’s criticizing and how touchy she is about the subject. What is their greatest fear? It was losing her father; now, she doesn’t know. What are their biggest secrets? She’s socially anxious, she misses her mother even though she doesn’t remember her, and sometimes she doubts the existence of God. What is their philosophy of life? Be kind to those less fortunate to make their lives a little easier and hopefully make the world a better place for the next generation When was the last time they cried? A few nights ago, thinking about her father What haunts them? The spyglass her father gave to her at her graduation What are their political views? Staunchly liberal What will they stand up for? The underdog, her family, her opinions about books, most things to be honest Who do they quote? Lots of poets and writers as well as artists and stand up comedians Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Indoorsy, but she likes the outdoors What is their sinful little habit? Sometimes she’ll go through an entire box of mini cupcakes in one sitting What sense do they most rely on? Sight How do they treat people better than them? With as much respect as she’s given How do they treat people worse than them? With more kindness than they deserve What quality do they most value in a friend? Loyalty and kindness What do they consider an overrated virtue? Chastity If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? Her temper What is their obsession? Books, books, and more books. (Also, travel, making the world a better place, and being kind) What are their pet peeves? Ignorance, people who share memes on Facebook, people who say the movie was better, people who don’t appreciate what they’ve been given, people who assume she wants to get/is married, people who misinterpret classic literature What are their idiosyncrasies? Hates clocks but keeps one of her father’s by her bed; claims to hate Adam but would protect him with her life; self-assured but also incredibly anxious

Friends and Family Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? Very small, now. She’s an orphan because of her father’s death. What is their perception of family? Family is your blood (though this will change_ Do they have siblings? Older or younger? Only child Describe their best friend. (TBD) Ideal best friend? Kind, forgiving, a good sense of humor, passionate about something Describe their other friends. (TBD) Describe their acquaintances. (TBD) Do they have any pets? Two cats, Billy and Charlie Who are their natural allies? Book lovers, social justice enthusiasts, travel bloggers, liberal arts students Who are their surprising allies? Adam

Past and Future What was your character like as a baby? As a child? As a baby, she was fussy and colicky. As a toddler, she loved to explore and often wound up in scraps. Did they grow up rich or poor? Solidly middle class Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Nurtured What is the most offensive thing they ever said? Once accidentally said “Fuck” at age three after hearing Maurice swear after dropping a wrench on his foot. It took him a week to shake the habit from her. What is their greatest achievement? Getting accepted to a school she loved. What was their first kiss like? Hasn’t happened yet What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? Called her father an absent-minded tyrant dwelling on the past once in anger What are their ambitions? To be published What advice would they give their younger self? Keep reading. It’ll keep you sane. What smells remind them of their childhood? Grease, fresh paint, lilacs, library books, new car smell, paper towels, the seaside, vinyl couch What was their childhood ambition? To be a spy or else an adventurer What is their best childhood memory? Papa watching old movies with her while they made brownies What is their worst childhood memory? Being bullied as a child Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? Yes. Her name was Violetta and she was a princess-turned-spy in a kingdom where every street had a library. When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? Her novel being rejected from a publisher What past act are they most ashamed of? Being cruel to one of her friends because they’d made a separate friend other than her What past act are they most proud of? Throwing cold soup in a bully’s face because he was being cruel to one of her friends Has anyone ever saved their life? Yes, Adam Strongest childhood memory? Her father working overtime so he could afford to buy her a new bike

Love Do they believe in love at first sight? Yes Are they in a relationship? No How do they behave in a relationship? Generally the same as with a friendship, but with more kissing. When did you character last have sex? TBD What sort of sex do they have? TBD Has your character ever been in love? No Have they ever had their heart broken? No

Conflict How do they respond to a threat? Depending on the threat, she either lashes back or remains quiet Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue What is your character’s kryptonite? Threatening her loved ones If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? Her first edition of The Great Gatsby How do they perceive strangers? Wonderful creatures of humanity What do they love to hate? Reality TV, vapidness, ignorance What are their phobias? Fire, spiders What is their choice of weapon? A well-aimed dictionary What living person do they most despise? Gaston Have they ever been bullied or teased? Yes Where do they go when they’re angry? Her mother’s grave, just to talk to her mother Who are their enemies and why? None at present

Work, Education and Hobbies What is their current job? French tutor What do they think about their current job? She likes it well enough, but it’s tedious What are some of their past jobs? Bookstore clerk, summer camp counselor, babysitter What are their hobbies? Reading, writing, going for walks, painting, watching old movies Educational background? BA in English Intelligence level? High Do they have any specialist training? No Do they have a natural talent for something? She has a strong memory and can remember almost all she reads Do they play a sport? Are they any good? Ha. No. What is their socioeconomic status? Middle class

Favourites What is their favourite animal? Cat Which animal to they dislike the most? Wolf What place would they most like to visit? Italy What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? The sunrise from the top of a mountain What is their favourite song? “Circle Game” - Joni Mitchell Music, art, reading preferred? Classical/jazz/rap, pre-raphaelite and post-modern, literally everything under the sun What is their favourite colour? Yellow What is their password? She uses the same one for every website. It’s usually a variation on the first letters of words in sentence, with random letters capitalized throughout Favourite food: Pancakes What is their favourite work of art? Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers” Who is their favourite artist? John Williams Waterhouse What is their favourite day of the week? Saturday

Possessions What is in their fridge: Typical foodstuffs + iced tea + lots of cream cheese + french pastries + ingredients to bake What is on their bedside table? A stack of books, a water bottle, a journal, her keys What is in their car? Nothing, really. She keeps it clean. What is in their bin? Lots of receipts, letters from nonprofits, Smithsonian Magazine tear-outs, advertisements for cruise ships, packaging from books ordered online, PBS catalogs, eggshells from baking, lots of hair pulled out from her hairbrush, pill bottles for antidepressants What is in their purse or wallet? Gift cards to bookstores (~5, each with about $2 left), her library card, $15 in cash, two credit cards, lots of random pink/nude lipsticks, a hair tie, a mini notebook for sketching, a book if she can fit it in What is in their pockets? A lipstick, a receipt, a random $10 bill What is their most treasured possession? Her father’s spyglass

Spirituality Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? TBD Do they believe in the afterlife? Yes What are their religious views? Jewish What do they think heaven is? She’s not entirely sure, but she thinks for her it’d be like a library What do they think hell is? A place of nothingness and emptiness and no hope Are they superstitious? Mildly, but mostly for fun What would they like to be reincarnated as? A bird, so she could fly away How would they like to die? Either peacefully or standing up for what’s right What is your character’s spirit animal? What is their zodiac sign? Virgo

Values What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Take away their basic human dignity What is their view of ‘freedom’? The ability to make your own choices without fear of retribution or embarrassment, so long as another person isn’t harmed When did they last lie? A white lie to a friend What’s their view of lying? White lies are different than black lies When did they last make a promise? Does promising to return library books count? Did they keep or break their last promise? Keep

Daily life What are their eating habits? Two or three meals + a few snacks throughout the day Do they have any allergies? Yes, mildly allergic to nuts Describe their home. Very comfortable and cozy, with hundreds of books, ornaments from around the world, maps of places she’d like to visit, two cats, loads of plants (roses are a favorite), a small piano, lots of warm browns and soft yellows Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Clutter hoarder What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Shower What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Watch a period drama and drink tea What do they do on a Friday night? Possibly see a show or go to the movies What is the soft drink of choice? She doesn’t drink soda What is their alcoholic drink of choice? Aperol spritz

Miscellaneous What is their character archetype? (Innocent, Orphan, Hero, Caregiver, Explorer, Rebel, Lover, Creator, Jester, Sage, Magician, Ruler): Sage Who is their hero?: Jane Austen; her father. What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween?: Ruth Bader Ginsburg Are they comfortable with technology?: Yes, but not super savvy If they could save one person, who would it be?: She can’t answer this question (Adam) If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Her father, but he can’t answer. What is their favourite proverb? A little knowledge is a dangerous thing What is their greatest extravagance? Books. What is their greatest regret? Not telling her father she loved him the day he “died” What is their perception of redemption? Being kind to those who hurt you. What would they do if they won the lottery? Buy tons of books, book a ticket around the world, and put the rest up in a savings account What is their favourite fairytale? Psyche and Eros What fairy tale do they hate? Snow White. Belle has a lot of feelings about internalized misogyny. Do they believe in happy endings? Yes What is their idea of perfect happiness? Lots of people who love them, a significant other, lots of animals to keep them company, and the ability to travel whenever they want What would they ask a fortune teller? Will I make a difference? If your character could travel through time, where would they go? Probably 1960s Woodstock What sport do they excel at? Heh. Belle, sports? She’s decent at archery What sport do they suck at? Anything with a lot of coordination (especially basketball) If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? Flight, so she could see the world.

#belle #m; belle

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