#i WAS courteous in my message and i DID offer my order date and if they ASK for my order number i WILL provide it!
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arcxus-of-altihex replied to your post “maybe a dumb question but yall know the uhhh veteran’s package thing...”
I've gotten mine already, maybe check with Anet just in case? I hope it gets to you soon!
thank u uou
i just contacted them abt it and even tracked down my order confirmation email for HoT bc my brain was like “what if u didn’t actually buy it before the cut off date and that’s why u didn’t get it. u don’t qualify” even tho the cut off date was. this year. like jkfdh
but ANYWAY...now we wait
#arcxus-of-altihex#i bought HoT back in 2016 just a fun fact that i have just learned#i WAS courteous in my message and i DID offer my order date and if they ASK for my order number i WILL provide it!#i said Hello! and Thank you! and i did NOT proofread my message 30 times after writing it!#and that's that!!
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STORY TIME: Turning Down a Third Date
I know I ramble on and on about this topic of love and relationships, so bear with me.
Recently, I had a second date with a guy who I met off an online dating app. On paper, he seemed amazing. He was tall, intelligent (went to a super highly ranked private university in the US), got his master’s degree in engineering, and was working at a super reputable company. Definitely not a slacker.
Our first date was at an ice cream place. We had matched on the app (Coffee Meets Bagel) a day before, when he suddenly asked if I was free that day (Sunday) to meet. I was apprehensive... did he think this was a casual hook-up? I know you can’t tell and profiles aren’t representative, but his CMB profile really looked wholesome and down-to-earth. I decided to meet with him (with the intention being meeting. No hooking-up) because I realized holding the conversation for 5 more days until the following weekend would be hard. And it was an ice cream place nearby, so why not right?
I got there, he seemed ok cute and friendly. He was definitely wholesome. I ordered a drink, I paid myself, he ordered his drink, and he paid himself. I thought this a little odd because he didn’t at least pretend to offer to pay for my drink (it was just a ice cream shake of $5), and this was clearly a date. I don’t mind paying for myself but I’ll admit, I do like being taken care of on the first date at least, or at least the fake “no no I got this” from the guy is appreciated before he “relents” and lets me pay myself. This was a bit of a yellow flag for me, even though I hate to admit it.
Then, we started talking. Because we only had one day of conversation before, it wasn’t that easy to talk but I tried. He told me he doesn’t use social media much (yellow flag #2 for me because while I don’t use social media obsessively, I do think it’s a nice way to bond with people and connect). He also seemed very passive and didn’t seem like he would be the one to wear the pants in a relationship (yellow flag #3). When I left the date, I was on the fence about him. This whole date gave off “friend vibes” and I wasn’t attracted or feeling ANY chemistry. We didn’t share many common interests, either. But it was a first date, and I thought a second date would help decide. Plus, it is hard to find quality guys on dating apps.
He texted me that same day, saying he had fun and would love to go on another date with me. I agreed and we set up a time and place for the next weekend. From date#1 to date #2, we hardly communicated. I know, we’re both busy career-oriented professionals but still - yellow flag #4.
Come the second date, and I was already dreading it; I had the mentality of “let’s get this over with”. We didn’t have texting chemistry or real life chemistry (yet?), but I knew a second date would make or break my mind.
The second date was similar to the first but it did help me cement the fact that I didn’t think we were a good match. Our personalities just didn’t get along. He was a great person but just not for me. Continuing the trend from the first date, he didn’t offer to pay at all for anything on the second date, even when asked point-blank by the cashier “together or separate?” I hope I’m not blowing this out of proportion and looking like a gold digger. The first date cost $5 and this second date totaled only $10.
Also, he had just moved to the area for his new job about a month ago and had told me he had no friends or connections really in the area. This is fine, except the fact that it gave way more “friend vibes” to me and I was secretly scared he’d end up being clingy to me. He constantly mentioned the fact how he was trying to make friends or go to meet-ups in the area, which kudos to him, but for some reason, it made me feel like he was trying to use dating as a way to get connections and friends in the area, and not looking at me romantically. Whether warranted or not, this was a personal yellow flag#5 for me.
After our second date, he hugged me (awkward) and said “let’s do this again? see you around?” I had a feeling from the start of the date that I wasn’t going to see him again, and as the date progressed further, I knew it even more confidently. I said “sure, sure” nonchalantly (because how could I say “nah”)?!
He ended up texting me the following day around 5pm. Sigh, I was hoping he got that I wasn’t interested from the date; honestly, if I felt like no chemistry AT ALL, how did he not? I’m being dense, I know. I decided to reply back and I said “Hey, I have to be honest, I had fun on our dates but I’m not really feeling it. But it was great meeting you and best of luck to you! :)”
You guys, it took me HOURS to find the right wording on reddit and google and asking my friends. How stupid is that?!
Then after sending it to him, I blocked him, deleted the text conversation off my phone, & unmatched him on CMB (so he couldn’t keep tabs on me). A couple of my friends said blocking him was unnecessary because what if he asked me a follow-up question and I’m ignoring him? Oh well. I gave him closure in that I’m no longer interested and I think that’s the most you can ask for in this situation. It was only two dates, not a full-fledged relationship.
Even though I know ghosting is a shitty thing to do to someone, especially when you’ve met them in real-life, I felt also pretty shitty sending him that message. That’s why I blocked him because I didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of sending him the (what was meant to be a courteous text) rejection. But I know what I did was correct (instead of just ghosting him).
Anyway, this whole experience really showed me that I’m not ready to date or wanting to date anymore and my apps are all inactive/deleted now. Good riddance!
#update#life#dating#relationships#story time#love life#turning down a date#my berkeley adventure#myberkeleyadventure#MBA_personal
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Dear Cheritz,
I’m writing this letter as one of many loving fans, hoping to express my gratitude for all the work you’ve done for your users over the years. Though I am still a new face in the community you’ve created (my Mystic Messenger registration date tells me I joined on June 9th of this year, meaning I’ve been enjoying your game for 123 days as of today), I have quickly and delightedly become a devoted follower of your content, and plan to continually support you in the future.
I first came across your content by coincidence, when a game developer I’ve followed for many years now posted about playing Mystic Messenger on Twitter. It was early summer and I was looking for a new game, so I decided to give the app a try. Little did I know how quick and how hard I would fall for everything about your game. It was around Day 6 of my first route when I was certain I wanted to fully commit to supporting your company and Mystic Messenger for a long time to come: that was the day I ordered the game’s VIP package and decided I wouldn’t stop playing Mystic Messenger until I’d seen everything it had to offer, and I haven’t regretted that decision since.
I fell in love with Mystic Messenger because of the care and attention I saw in every aspect of the game. There were so many choices, so many visuals, so many voice acted segments, and so many details incorporated into the gameplay that I found myself completely enraptured. This game I had chanced upon was so carefully thought out, and its presentation so refined and engaging, it was unlike any experience I’d had before. With each playthrough I uncovered more of the meticulous care that went into the game: the entirely different text that appeared when chats were missed or different choices were made; the sheer quantity of new story waiting at every turn—seven different endings per character and even special responses to wrong text and email choices; the vocal expressiveness of the voice actors and the beautiful soundtrack that accompanied chats and visual novel segments; the number of CGs to be collected; all the English translations of even minor details, like the spaceship thoughts or the login messages after this summer’s update (which are very important to me, as a non-Korean speaker); all of these incredible things, and that’s not including the multiple days’ worth of DLC! As I played Mystic Messenger, I could feel all the heart poured into the game by every person who worked on it, and that’s why I continue to play it every day: I know there’s still more of the game I haven’t seen, and I want to see everything made by a devoted team like you.
I’ve spoken of Mystic Messenger at length because that’s my primary form of engagement with your company, but my experience with your care and attention to detail expands to your online presence as well. Following your social media accounts has been a rewarding experience, and has shown me how courteous and caring your company is to its customers. Every update you share is unfailingly friendly and polite, and your continued efforts to provide additional content and improve existing content have not gone unnoticed. I’m constantly impressed by the consistent effort it must take to monitor feedback and fix bugs or other problems as quickly as you do, as well as the generosity you show by offering compensation for gameplay issues, routine maintenance, and even server outages for updates that will provide further content. Your product promotions are always fun, too, from videos to new merchandise to game updates, and the contests you’ve hosted have been a joy to participate in, making even your advertisements rewarding for your fans. All of these things reflect your sincerity: you truly wish for your users to have the best experience possible, and it shows. As a result we users feel appreciated and cared for, and more than happy to continue offering you our support in any way we can.
Cheritz, for all that you’ve done in the past, and all you will do in the future, thank you. After finding your company and your games, I have learned just how thoughtful and communicative a game company can be. You’ve done so much for all of us, more than we could have expected (especially for those of us English-speaking fans who require translations for everything), and I can only hope my words can convey a portion of my appreciation. As for me, I hope to continue sharing experiences with you in the future, and to catch up on what I’ve missed in the past (I’m sure Dandelion and Nameless both have excellent stories to tell, too, and I look forward to playing them in the near future). Thank you again, for everything: I’m so glad to have been able to experience the wonderful things you’ve all created.
Best wishes,
Hannah
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Sapphires and Salt --- A Salty Teens Fic
Sansa:
A sudden rush of light and fresh air jolts her from her troubled sleep. She tries to bury her face in her pillows, only to have her bedclothes ripped off of her violently.
“Up,” Aunt Lyanna says, sitting atop Sansa’s bedside and brushing a curtain of greasy red hair from her face, “You’ve been in bed a week, and court convenes in three hours.”
“So?” Sansa asks, scoffing, “Why should that matter to me? It’s not as if I have a place there anymore.”
“Don’t be absurd,” the queen replies, “Remember who you are. You’re Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, daughter of the Lord of the North, Granddaughter of the Lord of the Riverlands, Niece to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the Lord of the Vale--”
“-The jilted cast-offs of the prince of Dragonstone-”
The queen looks as if she’s about to say something, but appears to think better of it.
“Niece, I am ordering you, as your queen, to get out of bed. You are going to get up, bathe, dress, and walk into the throne room with the pride of a Stark, understand? Show that brat Aegon every inch of what he’s missed out on.”
Sansa feels bile rush to her throat. “Aegon? Aegon is going to be there?”
“Aye,” Lyanna says, getting to her feet and striding to Sansa’s dressing table, “We dragged that spoiled shit and that common slut back to court. And I can assure you, the king is none too pleased with either.”
Two of the five maids Lyanna brought with her help Sansa out of bed and into a tub of steaming water scented with the aroma of almonds and roses. Lady pads over to the side of the tub and nuzzles the hand Sansa hangs over the edge. Sansa strokes her wolf’s ears affectionately. Lady has barely moved from her bedside all week.
Sansa watches her aunt suspiciously as Lyanna goes through her jewel-chest. Her aunt has always been a bit of a mystery to her. To everyone, really. To this day, no one aside from the king and his wife seem to be sure what occurred between them that led to the Rebellion and their marriage. Some claimed Lyanna was abducted and raped, others insisted she ran off with the king in a swirl of rebellion and romance. After four years at court observing the royal couple, Sansa’s been inclined to think it was somewhere in the middle. The two seemed to love one another, but her aunt always seemed rather unsatisfied and melancholy.
Aunt Lyanna was never unkind to Sansa, but their relationship has always been a bit strained. Lyanna had more in common with Sansa’s wild younger sister, Arya, and it was clear before long that the queen would have preferred a girl of Arya’s inclinations to join her at court than Sansa. Queen Lyanna is a wild woman herself, a voracious huntress and rider who adored besting men with a blade. Far, far more than she enjoyed holding court, that was certain. Queen Lyanna had no patience for pomp, pageantry, or the feminine arts, often eschewing gowns for breeches and leaving her ladies to ride out to the kingswood with her two eldest daughters, Visenya and Lyarra, who had similar dispositions.
When Sansa came to court, it was clear that Lyanna expected her to be similar: to look and act like a Northern girl in full. Indeed, apparently she’d gotten the descriptions of her two nieces from her brother’s letters mixed up, and had expected the scabby-kneed tom-boy, not the perfect lady.
Upon discovering the mistake, the queen encouraged Sansa to be more like her ideal: to ride, learn to fight, to hunt like mad. She pushed her niece to pursue every activity designated as more “masculine”, to unexpected results. Aside from taking up the bow and falconry as regular hobbies, Sansa ended up resisting all of her aunt’s martial inclinations. Instead she took the opportunity of the “freedom” her aunt offered her to read everything her Septa back in Winterfell deemed “unfit” for a lady, and became even more engrossed in reading than she’d been prior. She took up statecraft, trade, astronomy, art, and music over swords and lances. And even when hawking, she had a habit of releasing her game that drove her aunt mad.
Ironically, Sansa ended up becoming closer to the king than the Stark queen, something Sansa sensed bothered her aunt as well.
“If you’re going to be a queen and survive a marriage to my spoiled step-son,” Lyanna had told her, “You have to be strong.”
Another thing Lyanna couldn’t stand: the fact that her niece worshipped the ground Aegon walked.
It was no secret that the relationship between the Crown Prince and his Stark step-mother was strained. That was partly why the betrothal was crafted in the first place. Princess Elia, Aegon’s mother and Rhaegar’s first wife, died during Robert’s Rebellion. Rhaegar had left Elia (and their two children) to run off with Aunt Lyanna, sparking the war. Rhaegar won the war, of course, making Lyanna his queen, something that infuriated Houses Martell and Stark. But a betrothal between Prince Viserys and Princess Arianne, the heir to Dorne, and the fact that Elia’s son remained heir to the Iron Throne managed to placate the Martells. House Stark, however, was another story. They feared for Aunt Lyanna’s safety, and that only got worse as Prince Aegon grew up resenting his step-mother, viewing her as a whore who humiliated, killed, and supplanted his mother. The fact that King Rhaegar had sent his son with Lyanna, Prince Jon, off to foster in the Reach at a young age as well didn’t help.
So, to try and bridge the gap and promote a reconciliation between the half-Martell Crown Prince and the House Stark, the betrothal was arranged.
Sansa left her home in the North at age eleven to come to King’s Landing to get to know her future husband. And she thought she had. Aegon, despite his resentment towards her Aunt Lyanna, was always kind, gallant, and lovely to her. He was everything a prince should be: tall, strong, handsome, well-mannered. And Sansa thought he’d come to love her. Despite the fact that their betrothal was set in stone before they’d even met, he’d courted her upon her arrival to the Red Keep, writing her poems and songs, giving her gifts, escorting her to events, and calling her his lady love. As she grew older, he began stealing kisses and even touched her a few times in a way that gave her shivers and even… Well, he did some wicked things to her that often left her dizzy and boneless. Wicked, wicked things he assured her weren’t worth confessing or atoning for, as they were his sins. And not once did he ever let her reciprocate.
Her prince, with his amethyst eyes and mischievous smile, made her life seem like a dream. How many favors had she made him, ones he’s pressed to his lips and proudly worn? How many times had she sworn her love to him, only to have him swear it right back?
She did everything she could to be his ideal bride-to-be. She worshipped him.
Sansa still remembers the last time she saw him. He’d taken off for Dragonstone to prepare it for their use. On their wedding day, Aegon would formally be granted the ancestral seat of the heir to the Iron Throne, and their wedding wasn’t too far off. Before stepping onto the ship, he’d donned the new cloak she’d made him and kissed her fingertips formally. Then as if he couldn’t contain his passion, he grabbed her before all the court and all of Blackwater Bay and kissed her lips deep. Highly improper, but oh-so-thrilling. And then he’d sprinted toward the ship, grinning.
It had left her so dazed that it wasn’t until later that she thought to blush over so many lords and ladies witnessing that kiss.
Aegon wrote to her to say he felt that Dragonstone would require far more modifications than expected for it to be worthy of her. And so he’d requested more funds from the treasury, and sated her with daily letters assuring her of his love. He told her of the things he was building for her, things based on what she missed from Winterfell: a lemon tree orchard, glass gardens, a fancy bathing chamber with a tub that would be as big as the Hot Spring baths from back home, but twice as fine.
And then…
Lyanna’s warnings, always taken with a grain of salt, turned true. Word came from Dragonstone. Aegon had eloped with Daena Valeryon, daughter of the Lord of Driftmark, a “dragonseed”, and declared her his princess.
His letter to his father (he didn’t write to Sansa), declared his bride to be of “proper and worthy Valyrian blood, a descendent of our own royal bloodline, with the silver-gold hair and amethyst eyes to prove it. A proper vessel to purify our bloodline and preserve the traits of Old Valyria.”
That wasn’t enough, however. Despite not sending Sansa an explanation, it was clear he intended to send her a message. The date Aegon gave for his clandestine wedding was the same date as Sansa’s fifteenth Name Day, and he’d sent her letters--- lying letters--- assuring her of his love following that date.
Lyanna was right. Lyanna was right all along.
Not that Sansa felt particularly inclined to turn to her aunt now. Lyanna hadn’t exactly offered Sansa a shoulder to cry on when the news came, preferring instead to devote her time to arguing with her husband and his council. When she did come to visit Sansa before, her manner was patronizing and cloying.
For years, Lyanna warned Sansa not to trust anyone in King’s Landing. Sansa’s all too ready to take that advice now.
Brokenhearted she may be, but Sansa isn’t stupid. There have been rumors for years about how Queen Lyanna desires to see her own son, Prince Jon, supplant his elder half-brother, and that it was partly why King Rhaegar sent Jon to foster in the Reach when he was eight. Sansa’s only ever exchanged light correspondence with her cousin, and though he’s always been kind and courteous in his letters, she always got the odd feeling that she was being condescended to.
Everyone knows the story of Duncan, the Prince of the Dragonflies, who gave up his crown to marry Jenny of the Oldstones. But that was different. Jenny was a common girl with no name or title behind her. Lady Daena is of one of the chief Houses of the Crownlands, a family that has married into House Targaryen multiple times, who shared Valyrian ancestry with the royal family.
If not for the betrothal, she’d probably be considered a fine match for Prince Aegon. And he wouldn’t be the first king of Westeros to have broken a betrothal in his youth--- just look at Jaehaerys II.
Not to mention, there’s the precedent set by Rhaegar himself. How could the king justify disinheriting his son for defying his designated match to wed another when… Well...
Everyone in King’s Landing plays a game, Sansa knows that. Even before Aegon jilted her, she knew that. But she’d always thought his game was to raise up his Martell cousins when he took the throne. She never imagined this.
Lyanna is no different.
As Sansa is helped out of the tub, the doors open, and Visenya, her looks as Targaryen as her name, marches in carrying a velvet-wrapped parcel. “It’s ready,” she tells her mother.
Lyanna rises from Sansa’s dressing table, leaving an array of carefully-arranged pieces laying out on the surface. Sansa takes her aunt’s place, watching her royal aunt and cousin unwrap the parcel through the mirror as the maids dry and comb her hair.
Yards of shimmering, silvery-white damask and myrish lace spill out of the velvet, and Sansa’s heart stops. It’s her wedding gown, completed, with a chain of pearls studding the trim.
Lyanna and Visenya smirk at her.
“You’re going to dazzle the room,” Lyanna says, “You’ll look every inch a queen.”
Sansa gazes longingly at the exquisite brocade, then glances back at the surface of the dressing table. Sapphires Aegon gifted her gleam up at her.
She clenches her teeth, furious, and shoves the gems off the table. She stands and turns, glaring at Lyanna and Visenya.
“I will not…” She snaps. Her aunt groans.
“Sansa, you’re a direwolf. You’re a Stark. You must be fierce and strong. I will not let you hide yourself away like--”
“---No!” Sansa shouts again. The whole chamber falls silent. Never once has she raised her voice to anyone, let alone the queen. “I am a wolf! But I am not some doll for you to dress up and parade out. I will not wear the gown of a wedding that shall not be, I will not wear his sapphires. Send my regular maids in and get out.”
Lyanna stares at her, alarmed. “Niece…”
“---I assure you, Aunt Lyanna, you will see me at court, and I will appear every inch a Stark. Now leave.”
~_~_~_~_~_~
She has the gown, the sapphires, and every other bauble Aegon ever gifted her sent to his new bride. When she enters the throne room, she does not need to glitter. She wears an ivory silk with grey velvet trim, with a posey of blue winter roses pinned to her bodice. They match the crown of blossoms atop her head. Yet more of the flowers are pinned to Lady’s collar. She dons no jewels. What need does she have for them when she is literally leading a wolf the size of a horse? The gown is simple, but it shows off her figure better than anything else in her wardrobe, and she never fails to make heads turn when she wears it.
Sansa meets every pitying eye with a smile, and she climbs the dais to take her usual place with her cousins, Visenya and Lyarra. She is still the queen’s niece and lady-in-waiting. The place is still hers.
The king, however, has other plans. He gazes at her appraisingly, and gestures for her to come over to him. Sansa stands before the Iron Throne and curtseys. King Rhaegar surprises her by taking her hands in his. Their eyes meet. His are kind.
“My Sweet Niece, you are very brave. My most profound apologies.”
“You are too kind, Your Grace,” Sansa replies modestly.
Before he can say another word, however, one of the heralds announces the Prince and Princess of Dragonstone, and Sansa hurries to her place.
Aegon and his new bride are escorted by guards. Princess Daena wears the very costume Lyanna intended for Sansa: the gown, the sapphires. Both of them look thoroughly pleased with themselves.
Sansa doesn’t hesitate to meet Aegon’s violet eyes. She does not flinch, though she wishes to. Just seeing him is painful. Seeing the obvious glee with which he presents his new bride is worse. What had Sansa done to make him want to hurt her so?
The two of them kneel before the throne, and for once, King Rhaegar doesn’t immediately gesture for them to rise. Instead, he looks down at his son and new good-daughter with a sad resignation.
“Aegon of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and Lady Daena Valeryon of Driftmark, you are found guilty of entering into an unlawful union, of a violation of sacred vows made before Gods and Men, and endangering the succession, security, and stability of the Iron Throne. Your elopement has not only violated the orders of your king, but done grievous insult to our allies and dishonored a good lady of high birth and morals. In so doing, you have endangered the very peace that the Seven Kingdoms have worked so hard to achieve and severely undermined our most holy relationship with our good vassals. You’ve dishonored your position, you’ve dishonored our people, you’ve dishonored your suitors, you’ve dishonored your Houses, and you’ve dishonored yourselves. Tell me, what do you have to say for yourself, my son?”
Aegon looks up at his father and smiles. “I only followed precedent, Your Grace.”
King Rhaegar rises, incensed. “A precedent of reigniting a war that nearly destroyed our dynasty? A precedent of dishonor?”
“If that is how you see it, Father. I bow to your judgment.”
The throne room erupts in whispers. This is dangerous. Aegon has only managed to place his father’s hypocrisy front and center. He’s trapped the king.
Rhaegar looks at his eldest son sadly and walks down from the dais. He stands over his kneeling son and raises him up. “You’re right, my son. For too long, I have placed the burden of my mistakes on you. I did everything I accuse you of to your mother and her House, and more. And in my efforts to rectify my mistakes, I forced you into my atonement. You don’t deserve that. I violated custom and honor to do as I wished, and the consequences should be mine to shoulder alone. Though I maintain that my queen is blameless in all of this, Elia’s memory deserves better than to have the same injustice done her be rewarded and to have her son forced to bear the responsibility for it. You deserve the same freedom she did, my son. And even though you’ve chosen to emulate the crime I did your mother, you still don’t deserve to endure the consequences of them. I’m sorry, Aegon. All I ask, however, is that you show remorse to the one you did harm.”
Aegon smiles, nods, and turns toward the dais, looking right at Sansa. “My dear Lady of House Stark, I cannot begin to rectify the harm I’ve done you. If there was any way I might spare your heart, I would. You are a lady of the finest qualities, as gracious as you are beautiful, and any man would be lucky to have you. Please know, it was not any failing of yours that prompted my actions, but my own weakness and the fact that I lost my heart to another. I am unworthy of you, My Lady. I know it. I dare not assume your forgiveness, but I humbly beg for it nonetheless.”
He smirks throughout this little speech. Every smug word is yet another blow, another confirmation that he never loved her, that he’d fooled her.
But what does it truly matter? The king has forgiven him. And she’ll never truly escape this humiliation. She will spend the rest of her life the jilted, unwanted woman, expected to serve Prince Aegon and Princess Daena, and later King Aegon and Queen Daena. This will follow her forever.
She’ll still make an excellent match, of course. Her family will have to be appeased, and part of that will be ensuring she have a bright future. But she’ll still always be the subject of the man who purposely broke her heart.
But she’s not going to wilt away. She’s not going to give Aegon the reaction he’s clearly looking for.
Sansa forces a smile to her face, eliciting gasps from the court. “Prince Aegon, I wish you and your new princess every happiness.”
She alights from the dais, moving towards the newlywed, leading Lady to walk beside her. Aegon’s smile falls from his lips, and both he and his new bride look frightened. The throne room rumbles with shock and speculation.
Daena does indeed have purple eyes and silver-gold hair, but her looks end there. She’s got a plain, spotted face. Sansa can’t tell if that makes this better or worse.
Sansa moves before them, stops, and curtseys. She even kisses Princess Daena’s new sapphire ring, and smiles up at her replacement.
“You’ll have to get your royal husband to replace the stones with amethysts to better match your eyes, My Princess,” Sansa says sweetly, “And hopefully you’ll be able to alter the gown to better suit your own origins.”
Both Aegon and Daena go stony-faced. The jewels are sapphires, a precious stone, to match Sansa’s eyes. And the gown Daena wears is basically a giant Stark tapestry. They’d presented themselves to the court draped in a giant tribute to the House Aegon meant to insult, and brought attention to the fact that his new princess would have to downgrade to semi-precious stones in order to free herself of Sansa’s cast-offs and achieve the same personal touch the gift originally had.
King Rhaegar shocks Sansa by taking her hand. “It seems Lyanna’s niece takes after the best parts of Elia more than her own son. Now, Aegon, as I promised, you’ve made amends. And thus, I free you to live the life you want.”
The wildly speculating hall comes to a sudden silence. Sansa’s heart freezes.
“F-Father?”
“Aegon of House Targaryen,” Rhaegar announces, “I hereby release you from the seat of Dragonstone, the inheritance of the Iron Throne, and all other burdens of leadership and rule of our family name. You are freed from the line of succession and all pertaining duties and responsibilities, as are your future heirs, and you shall henceforth be known as Lord Aegon, Prince of the Blood, with an honored place at court and a fair income to accompany your new rank. You are free to do as you wish with your life.”
The color drains from Aegon’s handsome face. “You… You can’t do this… House Martell…”
“House Martell are still our kin,” Rhaegar replies, “Bonds which are compounded by the union between our brother Viserys and their Princess Arianne. Meanwhile, the Houses Stark, Tully, and Arryn require appeasement. Your brother fills the Stark role, but the ties to the Tullys and Arryns are not guaranteed. At least, not until the proper blood ties are secured.”
“You… You can’t….”
“Yes, Aegon, I can. Don’t worry, you will always have a place at court, if you wish. You and your new bride are of course expected to remain here until Jon arrives and you’ve sworn the proper vows to him. And I will expect you to attend the wedding, as well, and show Lady Sansa the same honor she’s shown you. But after that… Whatever you wish… The world is your oyster. You’re a free man.”
Sansa absorbs the full impact of these words, and everything they mean. She tries not to shake.
Aegon and his new wife begin to howl and curse, but Sansa takes no satisfaction in their fury. Rhaegar orders court done with, and has his son and new good-daughter escorted out. The lords and ladies file out, and Rhaegar turns to Sansa with a sad smile. Aunt Lyanna, grinning from ear to ear, joins them at once.
“You’re to be our daughter after all, Lady Sansa,” King Rhaegar says with a strained, affected warmth. He grips her hand tightly.
Sansa swallows. “Please, Your Graces, I am flattered, but there’s no need for you to do such things on my account.”
“Come now, my lady,” Rhaegar tells her, “I thought you always wanted to be queen.”
The combination of Aegon’s betrayal and observing her aunt for nearly half a decade have made her reconsider. “It isn’t about that, I---”
She just wants to be free of this place, the halls in which Aegon kissed her lips, made her a thousand promises, and broke her heart. The walls built on deceit. She wants to go home, to people who truly loved her.
“---You’ll make a wonderful queen. Probably a far better one than myself,” Lyanna says, letting out a bark of laughter, “You’re made to be one. The perfect lady since age three, as your parents always said.”
“And after all these years, I can hardly let you go, can I? Who will I play duets with?” Rhaegar asks.
“My son isn’t like Aegon, Sansa,” Lyanna tells her, “He’s honest, honorable, and dutiful. He’s like your father. He even looks a bit like Ned.”
Sansa doesn’t want someone like her father, she wants her father.
“Jonny’s a sweetheart!”
Sansa nearly jumps at the sound of Lyarra’s voice. She looks behind her. Both princesses stand there, smiling eagerly. When did they get there?
She feels sick, oh so sick. She hasn’t seen Jon face to face since she was three.
But that’s never mattered, has it? She’s allowed her feelings for Aegon to keep her oblivious all this time. Sansa was never here as family. She’s a hostage. She’s always been a hostage. She was sent here to marry Rhaegar’s heir and secure the loyalties of all of her kin. And she’s going to do that, whether she wants to or not. The political capital she comes with is more important than anything to them. It’s what keeps them in power. And Rhaegar is willing to disown his own son for it.
“I… I suppose I could meet my cousin.”
Her aunt and uncle lean back, pleased.
“We’ve already summoned Jon back to court. He’s due to arrive in three short weeks,” Lyanna says, “In the meantime, though, why don’t we order you a new trousseau?”
~_~_~_~_~_~_~
Jon:
“She’s very beautiful,” Sam remarks.
Jon looks at his foster brother, incredulous. He and the ill-favored Tarly son recline in the sumptuous chambers Lord Varner gave the prince. When they arrived at the Roseroad Keep that afternoon, the lord presented Jon with a package from the Red Keep along with the accommodations. It turned out to be a miniature of his new bride-to-be, his cousin, Sansa Stark.
Jon can’t help but wonder, looking down at painted ivory, if this bauble belonged to Aegon a few weeks ago. How many more of his hand-me-downs should he expect? Jon’s already been granted his title, his inheritance, his bride…
The portrait does indeed depict a stunning young woman, with flowing auburn hair, big, blue eyes, creamy skin, high cheekbones, and bow-shaped lips. But Jon has rarely come across a portrait of a highborn maiden that doesn’t possess these same attributes, even if the supposed subject had spots and a lazy eye. That Lady Sansa is pretty, Jon doesn’t doubt, his mother has been saying as much in her letters for years. But he doubts his cousin in the porcelain-doll-goddess this miniature promises.
Not that he cares too much about that. Mother also said Lady Sansa is frivolous, a “perfect lady”, who didn’t care to take advantage of the freedoms offered to her and learn to fight. Mother complained often that Lady Sansa was content to adhere to the rigid, dull lifestyle of a highborn maid, more interested in fashion than adventure. That she fell madly in love with Aegon, and ignored all of his mother’s warnings about him. That she loved silk dresses, handsome knights, songs of romance, and shiny baubles, and that she loathed the sight of blood.
Of course, the moment Aegon threw his birthright aside like a bag of dung, the queen’s descriptions of Lady Sansa became more favorable. Her beauty and virtue were stressed, and Mother assured Jon that the lady “learned her lesson” after being jilted. That she enjoys hawking and has a lovely voice, that she’s “an ideal queen.”
Jon, the unwanted prince, has never desired an “ideal queen” and he’s not sure he wants one now. He’s always preferred girls like his mother and sisters: athletic, unconventional, ready to ride and joust and spar with him.
His cousin is a sweet, if spoiled girl, and he knows she’s blameless in all of this, but not only is she by all accounts a ninny, but even in their scant correspondence over the years he’s detected a certain reticence from her.
Of course, that hardly makes her any different from almost everyone else. Until a few weeks ago, Jon was the family embarrassment, the prince that the king would rather everyone forget. The product of the king’s insults to House Martell, the ashes of Robert’s Rebellion. Too male to be as unthreatening as his sisters, too questionable to be a valuable bargaining chip. Even his legitimacy was questioned. Father had shipped him off to Horn Hill when he was eight, and mostly ignored him since.
Jon is hardly pleased to suddenly find himself the favored son and heir. Sam has always been more a brother to him than Aegon ever was, and Jon made peace with his status a while back. He’d learned not to pin his self-worth on a father and kingdom that didn’t want him and embrace the freedom that being the second son afforded him. Besides, court was a cesspool of deceit and corruption. Why should Jon want any part of that when he could gain his knighthood and use his name and income to forge his own path?
Until, of course, Aegon went and ruined everything.
Now Aegon has the freedom (not that the spoiled tit probably appreciated it), and Jon is saddled with all the responsibility, dragged back to the court of the father that never wanted him, to marry a stranger who will spend the rest of her life comparing him to his fancy, handsome half-brother.
Sure, his mother might be thrilled with this development, but for Jon, it means a life of being the second choice.
Jon holds the miniature down to the eye-level of Ghost, his direwolf. “What do you think, Old Friend?” He asks, “Do we like her?”
The direwolf wags his massive tail in reply.
“Is that for her, or your littermate?” The image depicted Lady Sansa sitting beside her own direwolf, from the same litter Ghost came from. At least that will be interesting. Though the fact that Sansa named her wolf “Lady” is worthy of an eyeroll.
Ghost cocks his head, which could mean anything.
“You should send her something,” Sam suggests.
“There’s no time to have my portrait done,” Jon responds, taking a sip from his tankard of ale.
“Obviously. But you said she like pretty things, right? Send her a piece of jewelry. A necklace or bracelet or something. Maybe something with sapphires, to match her eyes.”
“How am I supposed to get sapphires?” Jon asks.
“You were saving up your pocket money for a new set of blades, remember? But your parents already sent you all the new things you could want. So why don’t you use the money?”
Jon frowns. A good point. Jon had worked hard to earn and save up that gold, only for all of his new princely trappings to arrive just as he was about to reach his goal, rendering the two-year-effort more or less pointless. Something must be done with the gold, he supposes.
“Sapphires?” Jon asks. Sam nods.
“Like her eyes. In all the best romantic stories and poems, a lady’s eyes are mentioned. You can have it sent ahead. It may break the ice. And she did send you something…”
“Fine. We’ll head down to the market tomorrow before we leave.”
Sam helps him select two sapphire cuffs the next morning. “You should write a note.”
Jon isn’t much of a writer. And he’s not sure what to say. But he does it.
These sapphires are the exact color of your eyes.
Jon can barely remember the layout of the Red Keep, it’s been so long. Ten years, more than half his life. His mother’s letters tell him what to expect. Aegon will be there, probably plotting to poison him, because Father insists that the old crown prince pay homage to the new one. To make sure the whole thing is as awkward as possible, Aegon’s new wife will be there as well.
The Dornish courtiers are none too pleased, but Mother says that they blame Aegon as much as they do the Starks, and that many lords and ladies from the Northern Alliance Kingdoms--- the North, Vale, and Riverlands-- will be there to support them. He’ll be allowed to keep Ghost close by most of the time, since Sansa was permitted to keep Lady. As long as he made sure the wolf behaved, he’d be fine.
He’ll be watched and judged constantly, even by the Stark faction, who will want to make sure their lady is happy following her humiliation. Thousands of eyes will look to find fault with him and declare him an unfit prince.
No pressure, really. With every step closer to King’s Landing, Jon feels the apprehension grow heavier. He doesn’t want this. They don’t want him. So why, why is this happening?
I’ll be keeping Mother safe, he reminds himself. Lyanna Stark was never going to flourish under Aegon VI. But with her son as king, her future is assured. So there’s that.
When they’re at the City Border, his retinue is stopped, and servants swarm around him, pushing him into a tent and the bathtub within said tent, coming at him with scissors and razors and perfumes and silks. Before Jon is fully aware of what has occurred, he’s sitting atop his horse again in black and scarlet brocade, his beard trimmed and perfumed, his normally-unruly curls cut and slicked back, a ruby-studded chain dangling across his chest, and shod in boots shiny enough to render his reflection from the stirrups. Even Ghost has acquired a new collar and a very confused expression.
He looks down at Madrick, his Master of the Guard. “I suppose I’m finally fit to be seen?”
“Indeed,” Madrick confirms before calling for the gates to be opened. He hands Jon a sack of coins.
“What are these for?”
“The beggars.”
Jon isn’t prepared for the roar that erupts from the crowded streets when he rides in. He’s not prepared to hear his name being called, or for anyone to appear happy to see him. He’s not prepared for the children on their father’s shoulders, reaching their chubby arms out to him. He’s not prepared for the thin, hungry-looking men, women, and urchins to run into his path. Sam has to elbow him in the stomach for him to remember to throw the coins. He’s not prepared to see grey and white direwolf banners amidst the Targaryen flags, or for children to point to Ghost in delight rather than terror. He’s not prepared for the pretty maidens who blush when he looks their way.
The tidal wave of adulation follows him the closer he gets to the Red Keep. By the time those gates open, he’s almost forgotten a lifetime of being the unwanted prince.
The court is assembled on a marble dais, his family at the very front. His sisters and Aunt Daenerys wave at the sight of him, delighted. But it’s his mother’s eyes he finds first: the Stark-grey irises. She grins at him, and he can see the pride there. It warms his heart even more than the crowds.
But then, of course, there’s the King.
My father, Jon reminds himself. He has to do that sometimes. Rhaegar Targaryen has always seemed more his mother’s husband and his king than his father. Even when Jon lived with his family, the king had little time for him. The only remotely father-like warmth Jon ever received was from Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Jon looks for the old knight among the crowd, and both men smile upon catching one another’s eyes.
Then, of course, there’s Aegon. Jon feels his older brother’s eyes on him well before he meets that purple gaze. Jon’s hands ball into fists when he beholds his brother. You did this, Jon wants to shout at him, You did this, so don’t you dare hate me for it.
Jon glances at the silver-haired young woman at Aegon’s side. She wears a matching look of loathing, but it’s easily the most remarkable thing about her face. He scans the lines for a sign of his new betrothed, but finds nothing.
Jon dismounts and approaches his family carefully. He has to get this just right.
He walks up the steps, and drops into a kneel seven steps down from his father’s feet.
“My King,” he recites, “It is my honor to come before you.”
All of a sudden, there is a gloved hand under his chin, pushing his gaze upward into a pair of affectionate violet eyes.
“My son!” Rhaegar cries in a tone that makes Jon wonder who he’s speaking to. “My Jon!”
Now he’s being embraced, pulled to his father’s broad, silk-clad chest. Thoroughly confused, the young prince looks into the king’s eyes, half expecting the man to shed tears.
Rhaegar releases him and scans his from head to toe. “You’ve become a fine man, my son,” the king declares, “I couldn’t be prouder.”
“Neither can I. Now, may I please also embrace our son?” Lyanna Stark snipes, though with a smiles on her face and tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. Her hug is warmer and tighter than Rhaegar’s, and Jon returns it gratefully.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers to her.
“I’ve missed you,” she replies.
Jon embraces his sisters and aunt affectionately, truly thrilled to see them. His Aunt Daenerys is more beautiful than ever, Visenya looks like she could take on an army, and Lyarra is his mother in miniature.
When Aegon comes to shake his hand, the two brothers end up battling for control, trying desperately to make the other give in. It’s not until Lady Daena clears her throat that Aegon lets go and introduces his new wife. Jon kisses her cheek and greets her as ‘Sister.’
She has no chance to reply when the king steps forward and clears his throat. There’s suddenly a cloaked, hooded figure on his arm.
“And now, my son, the person that perhaps, you’ve been most eager to meet,” Rhaegar declares pompously as he reaches for the hood, “Allow me to present the Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell.”
The hood falls and Jon finds himself speechless.
She’s not as pretty as the miniature. She’s prettier. She’s utterly stunning. Up until now, the most beautiful woman Jon has ever seen is Margaery Tyrell, the doe-eyed daughter of the Lord of Highgarden. But even Lady Margaery pales in comparison to the woman before him.
The deep blue of her eyes are like an ocean, and Jon almost feels like he’s drowning in them. Her creamy skin makes his fingers shake with the urge to stroke it. Her hair is a river of silken fire. Strawberry-colored lips frame a dazzling smile.
She drifts into a curtsey dainty and graceful enough to set his teeth on edge. He expects a high-pitched, girlish voice. But when she greets him, it’s with a low, husky, velvet-like tone.
Jon swallows heavily. He can’t tell which is worse: the lump in his throat, or the one stirring in his pants.
She’s for him?
He looks her up and down, amazed, absolutely undone---
---Until his eyes find her wrists.
Her bare wrists. Elegant, slender, and uncovered by the cuffs he spent two years of pocket money on.
Indignation takes over. This is the first time they’ve met. He’d sent her the product of two years of squiring for Randyll fucking Tarly, and she couldn’t even be bothered to wear them?
He observes her perfect smile again. It’s too perfect. It’s fixed. And he realizes that those blue eyes of hers don’t sparkle with a matching joy. She’s not happy to meet him, she’s playing a part.
If anything, now that he observes her more carefully, she looks like she’s been frozen in place, and is in pain, almost.
Jon tries to calm himself. Perhaps the package simply didn’t arrive. He’s jumping to conclusions. He takes a deep breath and presses her knuckles to his lips.
“Sweet Cousin, it is my honor to meet you. I’d been told to expect a beauty, but nothing could have prepared me for this.”
“You are much too kind, My Prince,” she says quietly, “You’re even more handsome than I’d been told.”
There’s something to her tone, and undercurrent, that sets Jon on edge. If he didn’t know any better, he’d guess she was mocking him somehow.
“But not as handsome as some, I suppose,” he replies, watching her carefully.
“As handsome as I could have hoped.”
That was definitely a charged remark. And Jon sees it, clear as day. I didn’t want you.
I didn’t want you, either, he thinks, And neither did he.
Everyone files into the palace, and Jon takes the opportunity to quietly inquire to his betrothed if she received his gift.
“I did,” she replies, “Thank you. It was very kind.”
“I wasn’t sure,” he stresses as they follow his parents through the entry hall, “When I saw your wrists, I feared their delivery had been delayed. It would be a great shame, as I had very much hoped to see the sapphires, considering the expense.”
Her nose actually wrinkles. “Perhaps you’d rather see me wearing a necklace made of coins, if expense is so important to you.”
“Not everyone can drop a pound of gold to buy a lady jewels,” Jon says, “I know things are different at court, but generally, people have to work for their money.”
“Hardly something you’ll have to worry about, I think,” Sansa responds, “You’re clearly happy to try and buy your way into anything that isn’t handed to you.”
Randyll Tarly is a hard-nosed, thin-lipped, cruel, miserly son of a bitch. Ever since Jon set foot at Horn Hill, Lord Tarly made it clear how much of a burden it was to take in “the half-bastard”. Nothing Jon did was ever good enough for the man, especially after Jon dared to befriend and defend Lord Tarly loathed older son, Sam. Jon’s adolescence had been characterized by his guardian’s determination to teach him “humility” and to be a “real soldier.” The man hadn’t even granted Jon his knighthood, despite the years of service and skill Jon had displayed. No, that came from Garlan Tyrell. And even after that, the man had Jon, an anointed knight, mucking the stables and polishing his boots like a lowly squire, all to be paid an absolute pittance.
It took two years for Jon to save up his “wages” (which, given they came from the royal treasury anyways, were more rightfully his now that he’d reached manhood than they were Lord Randyll’s) to acquire gold that most squires were paid in a year. He’d spent that two years all to buy her those bracelets, as it turned out, rather than the blade set he’d wanted. Two years of serving a man who only seemed to find joy in flogging his servants for sneezing in his presence.
He’d practically had to pry every copper penny out of Tarly’s fists.
“Handed to him”, indeed.
“I’m sorry for thinking of you,” he retorts, furious, “I had hoped you’d like them. Perhaps you prefer diamonds. But I thought sapphires might---”
“---Match my eyes?” She interrupts, “Next time, save your gold. I have an entire lockbox of sapphires, courtesy of my last intended. Sure, none of them resemble literal shackles, but it’s a bit on the nose, don’t you think?”
Jon gapes at her, utterly floored by this pronouncement of spoiled entitlement.
“May I remind you,” he hisses, “That I am to be your husband and your king.”
“I don’t need to be reminded of that, I assure you. I know my place.”
“Do you?” He asks, baffled. Mother always said that despite everything, Sansa was sweet. This girl is a monster.
“Oh, yes. My place is wherever I’m put. I’m a good little pawn. I’m just not half as stupid as you all hoped.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t even worry about it,” she replies, pausing to greet a courtier and smile her courtly smile, “I’ll spread my legs, give you sons, manage your court, and charm your vassals. I won’t trouble you or get in the way of your dalliances as long as you show some discretion. I’ll be the perfect queen. I believe in doing my duty. It’s what’s best for Westeros. I’d just prefer it if you don’t assume that I don’t know what this is. I’m to be your queen, not your fool.”
Seven Hells. “No wonder---”
But he stops himself before he says the rest. Not that it matters, he can tell by the look in her eyes that she knows exactly what he almost said.
She says nothing, merely greets and charms the lords and ladies around them until at long last, they’re free to settle in. Before she departs, however, she hisses through clenched teeth. “I’ll never forget.”
~_~_~_~_~_~
His first morning in the Red Keep, he is woken by a delivery. Two guards carry a steel-bound lockbox into his solar and open it before him. Jon is nearly blinded by the cerulean glare of its contents.
There’s a note is curly, angelic script.
This should prove more than enough to compensate for the expense of my new shackles. To ensure that you receive a fair price, I’ve enclosed certificates of appraisal for each piece and a list of merchants who will not cheat you. This should be enough to swell your coffers admirably.
Well- “Earned”,
Lady Sansa Stark.
It’s an absurd amount of sapphires. Apparently, Aegon isn’t too imaginative.
Jon instructs his men to pawn them at once, finding it uncomfortable to look upon the small fortune his betrothed sent a moment longer. He ends up using portions of the revenue to send her gifts. She returns them.
He soon learns that his bride hosts sewing circles and small banquets in the Maidenvault. She avoids him, and show little concern as to whether or not he notices. He does.
So does his mother, who is none too pleased.
“If you don’t make her happy, you’re going to spend the entirety of your reign with half the Lords Paramount breathing down your neck,” his mother informs him, “And I can only buy you so much confidence from the Northern faction. The Tullys and Arryns aren’t going to be happy if their lady is miserable. The last time a royal bride was miserable, there was a rebellion. House Targaryen was nearly toppled. And trust me, the Martells are desperate for means to undermine you. You want to sit the Iron Throne with the Seven Kingdoms united behind you, or you’ll end up like your father, basing every decision on pleasing his unruly vassals.”
“How can I make her happy when nothing pleases her?” Jon asks. “I’ve sent her flowers, jewelry, fabric, all the things you said she likes.”
“Jon,” his mother cups his cheek, “Aegon showered her with gifts, too. You’re a good man, give her that instead of things.”
He invites her to take lunch with him. She reschedules four times until finally giving in. He makes sure all her favorites await her on his balcony, and tries to look handsome for her.
She arrives wearing green silk and that fixed smile of hers. Jon sends the servants away and serves her himself.
The direwolves, at least, get along, tails wagging madly as they rush to greet each other.
Jon swallows. “I hear you’ve practically founded your own little court within the Maidenvault.”
“I felt it kind to offer a place for the ladies of the court who prefer silk and songs to sweat and saddle-sores,” she replies, playing with her food, “I hesitated to organize things before, as I didn’t want to presume or step on Her Grace’s toes, so to speak.”
“But now…?”
She actually snorts. “Now? What does it matter, now? I’m not going anywhere, and your mother is going to have everything she wants, so I may as well.”
Jon’s eyes narrow. The tone with which she speaks of his mother irritates him, but something holds him back to full-blown fury. There’s a resignation to the way she speaks that is so, so sad.
“I know Her Grace and you have your differences.”
“She thinks I’m a useless, frivolous fool, and always has. She wishes I were my sister, Arya. A proper Northern lass. I’ve been a disappointment to her ever since I arrived,” Sansa interrupts, “I’m sure she’s recounted what a weak, love-struck ninny I am several times. I ignored the warnings of my own blood to fall for a duplicitous prat because he was supposed to be the prince from my dreams. I’ve learned my lesson, better than she expected. But it doesn’t matter now. Her son will be king, her position is secure, and she doesn’t have to worry. I’m still here to secure your family’s position, and I’ll cover all the duties she’s always hated as well. Despite her frustrations with me, Jon, she’s better off with me than with Arya, I assure you.”
Jon stares, eyes wide. He had no idea. “She’s… She’s a good woman.”
“In her own way, yes. She was just a girl when your father stole her heart and won a war for her. She loves him and you madly. But she’s not a girl anymore. And as much as she loves your father, she hates being queen. She’s stuck. And for the last eighteen years she’s carried the guilt of the war, of Elia and Brandon and our grandfather. And she’ll do anything to make sure she’s not the undoing of the man she loves. All the while, being terrified of the man she helped raise, the living reminder of all her youthful impulses wrought. But now her son will be king, and the Seven Kingdoms will stay intact. I’m here, silly, stupid, and weak, maybe, but with all the right connections to bind the rupture her love story caused. Here I am, the daughter of enough fallen enemies, to be married off and save her from all the consequences, heartbroken or not, I’m here. I always will be.”
Jon feels bile rise from his stomach. It terrifies him. Sansa isn’t stupid. Sansa isn’t stupid at all.
He wants to defend his mother, but he has no argument. “I’m sure she cares for you---”
“---I don’t think she’s heartless. I’m sure she pities me. And it’s not her fault that I let Aegon break my heart. She tried to warn me. But I’m still a worthy sacrifice. And your mother has at least been more honest with me than the rest. Everyone, even my parents, were happy to let me believe the lie. I told you, Jon. I know my place. Your family taught it to me. I came here thinking I was the heroine of a song. But I’m a hostage. I’m a literal peace offering.”
“So am I,” Jon replies bitterly.
There’s an awkward pause.
“It’s not the same,” she states, finally.
“No,” he admits, “It isn’t.”
He feels unclean, as if he’s just committed some sort of crime, and he’s staring into the eyes of his victim. But he’s not sure how to apologize or fix it, because he can’t identify exactly what crime he’s committed. He just knows he’s party to this, whether he wishes to be or not.
“You’re going to treat me well, Jon. Because I’m the key to half of Westeros. I know my place. Every bit of it. You need me to keep my family in check. It’ll only become more important with each passing year. So you’re going to give me a place at the table. You’ll be discreet with any infidelities. You won’t keep my children from me. You won’t hurt me, or force yourself on me, or be cruel. You will show me every inch of honor, respect, and credit I am due. I will have a say in every major decision made. I will do my duty and show you respect, honor, and give you my full support. I will bear your children. I will not bear any other man’s bastards. I will charm your vassals and placate my kin. I will reach out to the Martells. I will mend your clothes and your wounds. I will aid you in matters of state. After I’ve born you an heir and a suitable amount of spares, I will be discreet in any liaisons and keep myself from conceiving another man’s child. I will devote myself to the success of your reign and the preservation of our family. And we will both be honest with one another. Is that fair?”
He doesn’t like the bit about the other men. Not one bit.
“No,” he says, fists clenched, “That isn’t fair at all. It’s not fair to you, or to me. It’s not fair to anyone. Why should I have to go looking to other women to find happiness? Why should you have to sacrifice your body to a man you barely know, then restrict yourself? Why should either of us have to build our life together through leverage and threats? Use our families, who, let’s face it, don’t care a wit about us, or at least not as much as they should, to control each other?”
“Because there isn’t an alternative. These are the roles we were born into. And the people of this country need us to fill those roles.”
“No.” Jon shakes his head. “They don’t need that. Jaehaerys the Wise and Good Queen Alysanne loved each other…”
“You can run off and marry for love if you like, Jon. But they’ll just pass the crown to Viserys, and the realm will suffer for it. Your uncle is an utter shit, but at least his marriage secures Dorne.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Jon snaps, rising to his feet and beginning to pace. “I’m marrying you, that’s set in stone. But why should we go into this merely tolerating each other?”
“Because your brother left me broken, Jon. I don’t have a proper heart to give anymore.”
He stops short. “No, I don’t accept that. Aegon is a dog turd. He’s not capable of such a thing. He hurt you, but he couldn’t possibly ruin you. You’re a… You’re you, and he’s just something you stepped in.”
She actually giggles at that. “You think that, maybe, but he… I loved him, Jon.”
“You loved what you thought he was. Because everyone wanted you to feel that way. You were a child when you met him, like my mother was. But you’re not a child anymore. You see so much else, Sansa. Surely you see that.” He walks over to her and kneels by her side, looking into her eyes. “See me. I’m not Aegon. I don’t want to use you, or hurt you, or lie to you. I don’t give a shit about the Iron Throne, or your family. I’d happily see that stupid metal chair melted down and run away to the East. I’d run away with you, if you like. They are trying to force us into things we don’t want. But one thing I think I want is you, if you’ll have me. I’ll take you, and leave everything else.”
“Why, though?” She asks. “Why do you want me?”
“Because you’re beautiful, clever, and just as angry as I am. And you care, Sansa. You are ready to resign yourself to bondage because you want to help others. That’s… That’s incredible.”
“I’m not clever, I’m frivolous and weak. Your mother--”
“You’re just as defiant in your frivolity as my mother is in her armor. If she can’t see that, it’s her loss,” he grins, “If you were really as weak as she claims, you’d have dropped everything and done whatever you can to please her. Instead, you started your own court. That’s inspiring. I didn’t want to be king, but if you wish, I’d like to be king to a queen like that.”
His stomach sinks a bit. He feels like an idiot, and he isn’t even sure what he’s saying, though he means every word. But Sansa’s given no indication that she wants him.
He supposes that’s not too surprising. She’s beautiful. He’s the second choice.
Jon pulls away, embarrassed. He’s made a fool of himself. She’ll never respect him. Maybe if he’s lucky, she’ll pity him.
“You’re sweet,” she says, “A good man.”
Jon cringes. Sweet. That’s something women say about puppies and babies.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “About the bracelets. I just felt so trapped and I was so angry with myself for letting him charm me. And I felt like everyone thought I was stupid enough to fall for it all again… I didn’t want to be bought or tricked. I didn’t want them to be right about me. I was scared.”
“I did it because a friend suggested it,” Jon confesses, “I just looked for whatever had the biggest stones. It didn’t occur to me that they looked like shackles. But I didn’t care. I sent them because I thought you’d be charmed by something shiny. So you weren’t entirely wrong. I got so angry because I’d been saving up before… well… Father sent for me. And I spent the savings on them. But it’s stupid, because as much as I cared, I didn’t care to spend it on something I cared about. It’s… It’s strange, really. I worked so hard, and cared so much about the work I did, then dropped all that work on something I didn’t care to even think about.”
She sighs. “I know what you mean. I spent months working on my wedding dress. But when it was finished, I sent it off to Daena. Can you believe that?”
Sansa utters a bitter laugh. She closes her eyes and leans back in her chair. “I’m not going to run away with you, Jon. There are a lot of people who would suffer if Westeros falls apart, people who are blameless in all this. Our families think we belong to them, but we don’t. We belong to the people that depend on their lords to do their duty. And honestly… I’ve spent my whole life preparing to be queen. It’s all I know. And frankly, I barely know you.”
He turns away, stomach sinking. She’s right, of course. They’re stuck.
“...But I’m willing to stay with you…”
He turns around, heart rising. She smiles at him.
“I know this isn’t the life you expected,” she says gently, “But I’m willing to help you through it. I’m willing to try. Maybe we could fall in love. I’d like to.”
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Hey guys,
I’m sure you would have heard about the Adulting 101 conference on social media. It was on November 30th and I’d like to officially thank the organizers for allowing me to come and take notes so that I can share with you all. It was a long day packed with information and so there was no way I’d be able to fit it into one blog post. Therefore, this is part 1 and it will focus on everything except investment. The investment section was my favourite part and I know you guys love investments so that presentation gets its own blog post.
Since it was a lot of information, I’ll be sharing what I either think you’d be interested in knowing or what I found the most interesting.
I know many people were complaining about the price of the event and it’s okay, I hear your concerns so I was on the lookout for what exactly they were getting for their buck.
In there very colourful folders, the attendees received many things including:
An investment voucher to open a mutual fund account at Sagicor investment.
Resume starter package
Voucher for 50% off a medical check-up
Registration for a mentorship program
Interview coaching sessions
In addition to that, there was coffee break food, lunch and booths outside with samples.
The event was hosted by Kingsley Morgan and Brithney Clarke and they did a great job. They kept their energy up (and it was a long day folks) and were not actually supposed to be hosting together, the hostess that was supposed to be there had an emergency. Honestly, if I didn’t find that out after, I wouldn’t have known, the chemistry was good.
Also shoutout to whoever was on sound, the playlist was lit. I was there from 8am and was thoroughly entertained.
The event started with Kingsley defined adulting and summarized what the conference would be about.
The event was supposed to be a “playbook on how to navigate adulting”
Adulting referred to doing adult things.
I liked when he likened moving from writing in pencil in schools to pen. Adulting more or less feels like that and I don’t know if he was going for a metaphor but the reader/writer in me saw it to mean that your mistakes matter a lot more now than it did then. It’s typically much easier to erase your mistakes or distance from them as a child but as an adult, you’re expected to simply know better.
The first presenter was Kavan Allen and who spoke on Spiritual Wellness from a Christian’s perspective.
Photos from Adulting 101’s IG Page.
Photos from Adulting 101’s IG Page.
He believes:
Neglecting your spiritual health may affect you in other ways.
As an adult, we tend to value peace of mind and he believes that’s what God provides.
Things in the Bible were designed to make you and everyone better.
That we were created and made to love.
Forgiveness and patience is a part of love
For you to be spiritually well you have to love and be loved.
He was basically saying that in order to be healthy holistically and successful in your endeavours you’ll have to be spiritually well. Kingsley then asks “How do you explain atheists achieving success?”
I appreciated the question because it is a fair one.
Kavan went on to say that you can apply principles from the Bible (whether you know you’re doing it or not) and God would bless them anyway.
He also said everything isn’t always what it seems meaning that they may look successful and happy but aren’t. He mentioned that many people don’t have the peace of mind (that spiritual health would bring) and are addicted to drugs and are suffering.
Honestly, I don’t believe those things are unique to atheists, I’m sure every type of person struggles. I think honestly some people have ignored religion and are successful by their standard and or society’s and it just is what it is. That fact shouldn’t make someone abandon their faith though.
The next presenter was Dr George Scarlett
What I basically took away from the presentation was that it is best to eat organic unprocessed foods. He made the great point that nowadays it’s much more likely that we’ll die from a chronic disease. He also spoke about epigenetic signalling which is defined as allowing our cells to allow us to live our best life.
The next presenter Felecia Williams presented on Creating a Real and Lasting Relationship.
Photos from Adulting 101’s IG Page.
Photos from Adulting 101’s IG Page.
Dating isn’t on my agenda but it may be on yours so here are some gems you might appreciate:
Beware of unrealistic expectations, too much accessibility and failure to communicate.
Keep the importance of chemistry in mind.
Invest in each other but don’t invest in relationships that do not serve you, build a future, be authentic, mutually respectful and supportive.
Put in the work.
For the hopeless romantics who are single, Felecia says to avoid a scarcity mindset and abandon the idea of the perfect parter i.e don’t have a type.
She also mentioned not accepting bad behaviour because you’ll be valued by them less.
Felecia threw shade when she said that maybe you just aren’t ready for a relationship, ask yourself if you’d date yourself.
I honestly feel a lot of these tips can be implemented for platonic friendships too.
Sean Williams presented next on building your personal brand
Photos from Adulting 101’s IG Page.
Photos from Adulting 101’s IG Page.
Sean says:
You’re a brand and a creator of your brand.
You’re either your greatest asset or your greatest liability.
If you want people to focus on your message you’ll have to look a certain way. This is one of the saddest truths I’ve heard and I hope one day it isn’t the case.
It’s important to know your brand and value.
Value your name and what it stands for.
Don’t compromise on your values.
Know who needs what you possess
And my favourite tidbit was that: People are willing to pay more because of a name because people associate that brand with quality. I can only hope people associate the Goody with a Budget brand with quality.
Money Management Framework with Nigel R Holness
What I really took away from the presentation is that you have to access where you are and have a plan which is being deliberate.
He speaks about sacrifice to get what you want. I’ve always agreed and disagreed with this statement. On one hand, sure you can’t always buy what you want all the time if you’re saving towards something. That’s a no brainer. But on the other hand, I’m wary about sacrificing all the fun out of your young adult life for a day that may never come when you’re older. For example imagine missing out on all trips, outings, parties and experience you could have had. You have a child and get married and you’re 50, not in your best health or don’t have the luxury of time to do things you wanted to do even if now you have the money. I feel like finding a balance and having a budget that allows for fun is important.
Nigel was saying you shouldn’t have fun but I had to go on my little rant. Nigel did say to watch out for inflation and that’s facts.
Photo by Nathan Walker from Nigel’s presentation
He also mentioned:
Record your balance sheet.
Calculate your net worth
Record your income statement
Calculate cash flow
Analyse and set up a budget that you keep track of.
Know your credit score.
Photo by Nathan Walker on Nigel’s presentation.
Finally, the last presenter for the evening was Gina Tomlinson Williams
Photos from Adulting 101’s IG Page.
Photos from Adulting 101’s IG Page.
For jobseekers she suggests:
Cleaning up your social media because recruiters do check.
Make sure your resume, which shouldn’t be more than 2 pages. has information relevant to the job you’re applying to make sure it is free from errors. Get a second pair of eyes to glance over the resume to make sure.
Get a professional photograph taken. I got mine at Millenial Mixer this year.
Create a LinkedIn profile.Here’s mine.
Gina offered a golden list to prep for interviews:
Research the company.
Research the role and department
Find a list of possible questions for the interview
Create a list of questions you might get.
Practise your body language and facial expressions.
Bring a copy of your resume.
Rest and Hydrate
Beaware of how you smell, don’t use slangs, don’t chew gum or sweets and be nice to ALL of the staff. They’ll ask the staff if you were courteous to them but in my opinion you should be nice even if they don’t check.
Am I the only person who gets caught off guard and silent when the interviewer says: “Tell me about yourself”?
No? Okay, great Gina said you can talk about your bucket list, yourself in 5 years, strengths/weakness and why you’d be the best candidate.
After the interview, you should ask about next steps, shake hands and then send a ‘thank you’ email.
Did you make it this far? Congrats, the blog post on the presentation on investment will be posted next week. Need a Writer? You know where to find me!
Takeaways from the Adulting 101 Conference Hey guys, I'm sure you would have heard about the Adulting 101 conference on social media. It was on November 30th and I'd like to officially thank the organizers for allowing me to come and take notes so that I can share with you all.
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I matched with this guy on tinder. He was European, relatively good looking and had super liked me so I swiped right. My best friend commented on how his profile seemed nerdy, but the kind of nerdy that I would appreciate. He said he moved to the city less than two months ago and works remotely as an IT developer. I wasn’t overwhelmingly drawn to him in particular (he seemed nice, but that was all), but I ended up talking to him a lot because he was quick to respond to my messages and asked me a lot of questions. Even if I took a couple of hours or even a whole day to text him back, the next message from him would come within a minute of me responding. It wasn’t something that I was used to but I decided not to hold it against him for being better at communicating over text than I was. Earlier on in the week he asked if I’d have time for coffee or dessert sometime, which I thought was refreshing compared to the usual invite from dudes asking to just “get drinks sometime” - plus I always have time for coffee or dessert. I told him I was free Saturday and he told me about this Indian restaurant he really wanted to check out - yikes, I agreed to a quick coffee or ice cream, not a full meal. I didn’t want to promise that much time to someone I hadn’t even met yet. I told him a white lie and said I wasn’t available for lunch or dinner, but offered to meet for breakfast instead. At least breakfast could be quick. It would be a quick start to a day where I’d normally be in bed until 11am. I thought if I didn’t like him I could always carry on with my day having had a solid breakfast and a strong coffee and you really can’t go wrong with that.
So Saturday morning came round. I met him at the brunch place of my choice and he looked exactly as he had in his pictures. He was pleasant, but that was pretty much it. I appreciate people who are chatty but he talked a little bit too much about himself. He droned on and on and I listened politely, but in my head I’d already decided that I wasn’t interested in extending the date much longer. For starters, he was way too keen on yo-yoing. Every story he told had something to do with yo-yo this or yo-yo that. It’s so important to have passions and I want to love people for their quirks, but even as I greeted him for the first time I clocked the he had attached to his shorts with a strap. We wolfed his breakfast down, practically inhaling it and he’d cleared his plate before I was halfway done with mine, which is impressive because he was also doing the most talking.
I don’t know. He’s 28, so despite his apparent eccentricities I somehow expected someone slightly more polished, mature and courteous. Instead he was just a little too odd and boring. After I finished my food, I suggested we leave to get coffee. I desperately needed the caffeine and I thought coffee would be a good excuse to wrap up the meal and get the bill. I asked for the cheque and when it arrived I reached into my bag for my wallet. It wasn’t there. I rummaged, puzzled, and realised with dismay that I had left it at home in the tote bag I carried the day before. My date sat next to me, counting exact change in coins and didn’t interrupt my bag rummaging the way some people do to indicate that they’re going to cover the full bill. I desperately looked through the side pockets for any money I might have carelessly tucked in from before but there was nothing. I was mortified, knowing I’d have to tell him I didn’t have my wallet and it would sound like a blatant lie, a desperate and over-used tactic that some of the most shallow people pull to get men to pay for them. I took a deep breath. ‘My wallet’s not in here’ I said finally. ‘Really?’ His tone was uninterested, almost cold. He clearly wasn’t buying it. ‘Yeah’ I said. ‘I left it in my other bag at home. I can’t believe how dumb I was to forget it.’ ‘How did you get here’ he quizzed. ‘With this’ I pulled out my train pass to demonstrate my story was valid. ‘I don’t know what I’m gonna do’ I said. I picked up my phone doing the only thing I could think of, which was frantically shooting a text to my best friend, wondering if she could come rescue me. He sucked air through his teeth. ‘Tough situation’ he shrugged, meaning it was none of his concern.
I was too embarrassed in the moment to think much of this at the time. His unwillingness to help was somewhat baffling but I was more annoyed at myself for forgetting my wallet in the first place. I wasn’t planning on seeing him again so why should he have to pay for me? I wasn’t going to ask him for money. I’d already decided that I would stay where I was and wait until one of my friends could join me and help me with my unfortunate situation. I turned to tell him that I was going to have a friend come and meet me there so he could just leave me with the bill and his half of the money owed but the waiter turned up to take the cheque away. ‘Can I take this?’ he asked politely. ‘Just a second’ my date said, and he pulled out another 20 dollars to pay the full amount. ‘Did you just pay my part of the bill?’ I asked, feigning surprise to show him I wasn’t expecting him to cover me. ‘Sorry about that, I’ll get the money back to you’. ‘Don’t worry, I have Paypal’ he said unsmoothly. We left the restaurant he asked me if I wanted to go a public garden with him. I’d love to but I really need to stop home to pick up my wallet, I can’t do anything without it. Besides, doesn’t the garden have an admission fee? ‘It’s only a little bit. Don’t worry I can pay’ he told me. But I wasn’t convinced. I felt uncomfortable at the thought of having to rely on him to cover my expenses for half the day. I didn’t want to spend much more time with him anyway. ‘That’s sweet, but I really think it’ll be easier if I stop home once first. I can meet you back out later’ I insisted. We headed to the train station together, as we would be taking the same line until halfway anyway. I felt obliged to be sweet to him, feeling like I owed him for helping me, even though he had been incredibly slow to do so. I collected my thoughts on the train platform, contemplating how much time it would take me to get back to the city after picking up my wallet. He unrolled his yo-yo as I checked through my phone for messages. He started doing tricks on the platform, I imagine he might have been trying to impress me or prompt another conversation about yo-yos but I didn’t look up to indulge him.
Within an hour, I’d gone home to grab my wallet, swapped my handbag and reached the gates of Shinjuku Gyoen. He said he would meet me outside because he didn’t want me having to pay an entrance fee just to be in the garden for 20 minutes. I promptly handed him the cash. ‘Thanks, but you didn’t have to give it to me straight away’ he said. I did, because for me, it was a matter of principal. I refused to let him think for a moment that I was the free-loading type. Sure, I’d never see him again, but my pride was too high to allow a stranger to misjudge my character. I’d felt humiliated in the restaurant. He’d waited a little too long to offer any assistance, waiting until the very last minute to cover the last part of the bill. The fact that he offered Paypal as a solution, to show he wasn’t willing to forget the expenses, and that I was to reimburse him like some sort of business transaction was more reason for me to give the money to him in cash to prove a point.
Earlier at the restaurant, I immediately noticed his strong scent. There was something about his laundry detergent or cologne or shampoo that made him smell like an old man. Now, walking alongside him, I noticed a large bottle of cologne sloshing around the side of his backpack. I couldn’t help but crack a grin. No wonder he reeked. He caught my expression and asked me what was up. ‘It’s…just the sun, it’s so bright’ I lied, squinting up at the blue sky. My diversion was a silly one but I didn’t care. I found myself inviting him to head to a coffee shop with me, struggling to understand why I was still trying to act nice, and friendly and like I was enjoying his company. We went to blue bottle where he ordered a cafe mocha and asked if they could add honey to it - they didn’t have any. Maybe if I were there with anyone else I would have found their absurd sweet tooth charming and teased them fondly over it, but I was growing tired of his anomaly so instead his strange request was just another item to add to the checklist of weirdos in my mind.
Eventually I excused my self, telling him that I needed to get on the train soon to meet my friend for lunch, but instead I turned the corner to the nearest bookshop in the building right next to the one we’d been in. Throughout the day he’d send me messages, and when I didn’t respond he sent me a few more. ‘Appreciate you taking care of the wallet situation!’ He piped.
I ignored him.
‘Shows good character!’, he added a few minutes later.
I don’t need his praise I scoffed to my friend later, tilting my phone to show her his messages as we sipped drinks at a bar. ‘It’s condescending’ she agreed.
And that was the story of my 3rd date of 2019…
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my friend in jail wrote back to my last letter a few days ago, and I just got it today. we’ve been reminiscing a little bit over the passage of time, him more solemnly. he’s mentioned it a few times but I still can’t wrap my head around it: we really have been writing back and forth for about two years now. I do remember reaching out, and I guess it really was summer two years ago that I saw his mom’s post on his facebook page, pleading for his friends to write to him while he was in court-ordered rehab.
the summer I transferred schools, I ended up getting really sick. I was alone, didn’t have any friends around, my anxiety was off-the-charts, and on top of that I didn’t know what was wrong with me. around the time I was supposed to get my CT scan done, when I was in so much pain I kept calling off at my part-time job til I quit, I was afraid I’d die in my sleep. I couldn’t eat or even drink, really, and I was dropping weight like nothing. at my lowest I weighed about what I did when I was 14. I could only sleep 3 hours at a time. I’d stay up til morning and wake up after a few hours to my heart pounding. one morning, must’ve been around 4 or 5am, I got a random facebook message from this guy I knew of in high school but had never talked to. he was part of the “cool” crowd, sort of. I knew of him as one of the class clowns who partied on weekends with the other kids fitting that descriptor; everyone knew who he was, but he wasn’t one of the populars, if that makes sense. he’d been in detention or in-school suspension for something or other since middle school; not really a troublemaker, but definitely not a model student either. I don’t think we had any classes together, since he mostly took the academic-levels and I took the advanced/AP courses. or maybe we had stats & discrete together in 12th grade? I don’t remember. I think he friended me my first year of college, back when everyone from high school added everyone else from high school just because we had mutual friends. I was maybe a little surprised, hence why I remember when he added me, but we never talked. but that one summer he’d seen one of my statuses about being sick, and messaged me to say he hoped I was feeling okay and that I’d get better soon, also he thought I was pretty (lol), and he confessed he had to get pretty drunk to work up the nerve to message me. that got a laugh.
I don’t remember how often we talked back then, but it was often enough. he’d check in on me, only ever polite. he told me about the girl he was dating (or had just broken up with?), I’m sure I told him about my whole ex-boy situation. I tried to gently advise him away from making the poor decisions he was making as far as this girl, he comforted me telling me that I was a catch and any guy that couldn’t see that wasn’t worth my effort anyway. we kept talking sporadically through 2015; I remember messaging him (I’m pretty sure it was him?) while sitting on the couch one winter in T’s then-girlfriend’s apartment; they’d invited me and A over for some reason or another, and I don’t even remember what movie we were watching because I didn’t watch a second of it. I’d been staring ahead at the bookshelf until I got a message, then I was engrossed in complaining about the whole situation, ha. he was ever the patient listener, and very courteous about offering advice, lowkey bashing these guys in my life too, ha, but being aware that he didn’t know the situation all that well. a lot of his advice was well-founded, though, and I definitely put a lot of value in what he said, though I can’t remember much of it now.
I don’t remember us losing contact, really, all I remember was that I heard about his best friend’s heroin OD, and then later saw his mom’s posts that she’d tagged him in. once we started writing back and forth I learned how hard he took his friend’s death. I don’t remember how he ended up with his grandparents in kentucky, but he was there and ended up stuck there because of his felony charge. he learned a lot about his own issues in rehab, became much more self-aware and reflective and he knows he’s grown into a better person despite everything. it makes me glad that time is at least passing quickly enough that he may be able to be with family soon. I think he may be released into a substance abuse program next month, and he’s really looking forward to that. I feel like I’ve had to remind him to keep his head down until he gets out, but jail politics are unfamiliar territory for me. he’s told me some pretty wild stories, most recently about someone who ratted about a tin of dip that was in a common area and tried to pin it on my friend (and of course it wasn’t his; he’s not stupid), some guy in his pod who keeps starting shit... he doesn’t want to have to fight this guy, he tells me, but if he starts anything with him he’s not going to sit there and take it. but I know he’s got his goals at the forefront of his mind and he’s hopefully not going to jeopardize them for some petty bullshit.
it’s just amazing to me, though, how long it’s been. but he’s right; all of it did happen. it really has been that long. at least he remembers it.
It’s crazy that my time down in Paducah was 2 years ago already... I want to ask where 2018 went and then I remember that I spent half of it locked up. 2 years of you keeping me company through thoughtful writing and thinking about that feels, I don’t know, deep? I mean you took time to write me in sickness, school, personal ups and downs, etc. Even when people I’ve known for 18 years can’t write me or ask how I am, or when family forgets about me and can’t take a minute to ask about me or write me. Yet you take time out of your free time to check on me by writing, when family can’t send me a birthday card but you’re able to hand-make me one. I appreciate you being such an amazing human being and friend to me.
that’s all I could hope for, really. just keeping some kind of hope alive in him, even if it’s just me. sometimes that’s all you need to get through hard times; just one person to care enough. I could feel the desperation in his mom’s posts, saying how nobody was writing to him and he was lonely and going through losing a best friend and now rehab for alcoholism instead of jail (but then eventually jail because he missed one meeting and had someone sign his name for him, and someone ratted on him). and like... he was there for me when I needed it, what kind of person would I be to ignore him when he needed it most? I couldn’t imagine being in his situation and feeling like nobody cared. being hundreds of miles from home, knowing your best friend is gone, only having limited contact with even family, and then on top of that being stuck in jail with a bunch of other smelly guys (he often complains about the smell of a bunch of guys living together in small quarters), most of which are drug addicts, alcoholics, repeat-offenders, many of them he’s described to me as ‘not terribly bright’ (in kind terms, of course)...
it was hard enough for me having to move home from PA once I finally found a group of friends I was actually comfortable with, who seemed to genuinely like me and appreciate my company, and feeling like I’ve been slowly losing all my friends since I left, feeling like nobody even wants to spend time with me because when I ask I’m just met with silence... I know how bad that feels, but to be at your absolute lowest, in his situation, and feeling like nobody even cares to write to you? check in on you? see how you are? nothing at all? I knew he had enough of being made to feel worthless by too many people in his life. if I could make even a little difference by being there for him, I couldn’t not do it. sometimes it has felt like a chore to write back, but only because I feel like I need to write enough for it to be worth reading. I want to come up with thoughtful replies, and for that I have to be in the right mental space. sometimes it’s taken me a week or so to write back, but he doesn’t mind. he appreciates the effort I put in anyway, and understands I only have so much energy; in this last letter he reminded me to pace myself and not to push too hard if my walks and yoga are too much for me. I appreciate his being so understanding too; too many people hear I can't get through 2-3 mile walks without crashing and insist I must be faking it, or I’m just really out of shape. there’s always some reason that’s my fault.
he’s started calling my letters Hannah Weekly, haha. I tend to write little updates about my life to give him a glimpse into something else beyond jail. he doesn’t seem to mind, though; he doesn’t have much to update me on anyway, besides the little things they find on road crew sometimes, or when the officer supervising them on road crew treats them to fast food every so often. or this new lunatic in his pod. he earns 63 cents a day, he says. and a jar of peanut butter is $9. either 7 or 9; something outrageous. his poor family has to pour money into this jail just to keep him semi-comfortable. 15-minute phone calls cost money too; I forget how much. but he still tries to call me about once a week or so now.
he didn’t have much to say about my health, but I understand he’s not well-versed in any of it. I mostly just write about those things to vent, get my thoughts organized in my own head. but he reminded me that, on top of my health not being good, I really have been worn out.
You’ve had a stressful year and even before your father passing you were stressed out from work, and before that it was from school. You’ve mentally and emotionally been through a lot in the last few years. Changing schools, having to leave friends behind, shit with your ex/friend from PA, etc. It all adds up and takes a toll, you know?
I feel like that should be more obvious to me. it sounds like something I’d say to someone else. but I’ve probably been brushing it off. taking it as it comes, one thing after another. what’s another mental, emotional hit? isn’t this just life? but maybe I really did need to see it worded like that. I’m sure it’s occurred to me that it all adds up. but maybe I thought I’d just moved past it. that I’d healed between hits, even though I knew I hadn’t. the damage was still done. the toll had been taken. a rock is still a rock even when it’s been chipped at, but those chips do add up over time, and before you know it, the rock is shaped entirely differently. I definitely feel different. but is that not still life? we’re all shaped by time and everything that fills it, good and bad.
I’ve always been a supporter of the idea that everyone handles different amounts of trauma differently, and people change in how they handle trauma too. a nightmare that I could brush off like nothing today sent me into an hours-long panic attack just 5 years ago. but all this time, over everything I’ve been through, I’ve still never truly felt like my pain was justified. I’ve tried to convince myself I’m just being stupid, overemotional; that it’s really not as big of a deal as it feels like to me. boys hurting me (we never even dated; he told me repeatedly it meant nothing), losing my pets (’they’re just rats...’), feeling completely alone (people all have their own lives; so what if nobody ever responds to your posts about wanting a concert buddy), feeling like I’m worthless and useless and generally inadequate (just get over it; you’re overreacting; other people have it worse so you shouldn’t be feeling so bad because you have no real reason). no matter how unfounded... things still hurt. they can still pile up. stress and emotional pain and self-loathing and fear... it really does add up. it really does.
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How To Run A Successful Retail Flower Shop
Owning and operating a floral retail business requires many different strategies.
There are some basic principles that do apply to all retail businesses, however, in the floral industry, there are some retail factors that will take precedence.
In this blog, we will discuss retail business basics that apply to the floral industry. Whether you are just selling floral arrangements or carry of variety of items in your flower shop these tips will help in establishing floral retail business rituals to maximize your sales.
Employee Training:
When it comes to hiring employees training, this is a Must Do! Employees are representing you, the face of your floral business brand.
Do not assume they know how to do everything, train them how to answer the phones, greet customers, and any other job-related requirements you have, even if it’s as basic as cleaning a workstation.
Often we hear from flower shop owners “Well my employee won’t or can’t do that, it’s too confusing for him/her.” Unfortunately in order to represent your floral business and if it is a job requirement, then your employees must learn and be trained in all, regardless if it’s comfortable to then or not.
Make sure your employees are always:
Courteous to customers
Look presentable
Punctual
Well educated and knowledgeable of their work duties
Know Your Competition:
Savvy floral business owners take the time to understand their competitors. Regardless if you are in a highly competitive location or small town, competition is still competition.
Know your competitors,
How are their floral designs?
What are they offering that your flower shop is not?
How is their flower shop look and feel?
What makes your flower shop different?
Knowing your competition is a way of maximizing your brand and standing out from the crowd. It also helps keep you up to date with industry trends.
Know Your Retail Math:
When you own a brick and mortar flower shop, every inch of your floral business is potential for extra income. Knowing what to carry in a floral shop can seem pretty easy, however, there are floral business owners who are now providing other retail items such as candles, home decor, skin care, toys and much more.
Offering a variety of retail products is a way to entice visitors to your store. Understanding your retail math is the only way to maintain profits in your floral business.
Pay special attention to:
COGS (Cost of goods sold): which is – Beginning Inventory + Purchases =Ending Inventory.
Markup: a candle markup is easily done, however, a floral arrangement may be a slightly more difficult. Be sure to include in your mark up for any pins, pics, card message paper, and anything you use in designing the arrangement.
GMROI (Gross Margin Return On Investment): calculate what is worth having for sale in your flower shop versus what is not. How large is your investment in this product line? Is this product a “need” or a “want” in your community?
Note: I know how many times we mentioned this, however, florists please STOP GIVING YOUR MERCHANDISE AWAY FOR FREE. No-one is getting anything free in any other retail businesses. florists, we do love and appreciate that you are so kind hearted and giving. Adding extra floral stems here and there and not accounting for ribbon or other miscellaneous items are not good for your overall retail success. Giving a little here and there adds up fast.
Know Your Merchandising:
Whether you carry a vast array of merchandise in your flower shop or just flowers and plants there is a technique to merchandising to the 5 senses. Floral business retails shops do have an upper hand when it comes to the 5 senses, with such beautiful flowers and plants. That being said there is still a bit of psychology to play on to have your products resonate with visitors.
When merchandising your floral business make sure you are appealing to these 5 senses:
1.Sight
Hard to believe however 85% of consumers say the color is what urges them to shop. A good tip is to limit your color scheme so it’s not overwhelming to your shoppers.
The research concludes that shoppers prefer open floor space that allows for easy movement and good visibility of all products. If you have a smaller shop this can still be easily achieved by decluttering.
Beautiful displays really do work in gravitating customers. Think about every detail of the display not just the products for sale but also furniture that is displaying the products these are all considered to be visually impactful.
Did you know: That subconsciously both females and males respond very well to the colors blue and green.
2.Smell
Appealing to the sense of smell comes fairly easy for flower shop owners who is merchandising for the sense of smell.
Flower shops offer an array of appealing scents that are invigorating to shoppers.
Make sure to keep your flower shop clean, this will appeal to both sight and smell.
Did you know: Of all scents, women prefer the smell of flowers over any other scent when shopping while men enjoy a more spicy scent.
3.Sound
The sound in retail has been heavily researched and many retail chains have studied the impact of various music brands and how it impacts customers when shopping.
Different retail stores will offer different kinds of music to maximize their sales.
Book Stores for instances plays soft music to create a sense of slower time and alter one’s perception of how long they are at their store. While trendy young clothing stores for pre-teens and teens opt for more louder, energetic music which works better for their customers in hyping then to purchase.
Florists sound is also important in your retail space and helps in creating atmosphere and eliminates sounds that may be negative to shoppers such as employee or other shoppers conversations.
Tip: There are tunes that are specific to your brand, flower shop owners consider offering songs that are specific to flowers, we know this sounds typical but works.
4.Touch
It is human nature to just want to touch things, create an environment that allows customers to engage with the products you have for sale.
When a customer touches or holds an item it gives them a more personal connection with the product for sale.
Keeping your products at eye level encourages touching and sales.
Touching is not only for products that you are selling, if you offer seating for customers, be sure that it is comfortable, this gives customers a sense of well-being.
5.Taste
Most floral businesses do not sell food, you may be thinking how do you engage the taste sense. Regardless if you sell treats at your floral shop, taste is a sense that can still be engaged by having small offerings to your visitors.
Consider offering a cup of coffee.
Allow for taste testing of your gourmet treats for sale.
Think of displaying free hard candy on your counter.
These are some easy ways to understand and get started with your floral retail merchandising. Florists, let’s hear your feedback! Do you have any important retail advice/tips that have been or are successful? Please share all your feedback, tips or any floral business retail related questions you would like addressed below.
____________
Floranext makes great florist software. Florist websites, floral POS, florist wedding/event proposal software, and florist technology. Let us know if you want a free demo or try our software for free here.
How To Run A Successful Retail Flower Shop published first on YouTube
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How To Run A Successful Retail Flower Shop
Owning and operating a floral retail business requires many different strategies.
There are some basic principles that do apply to all retail businesses, however, in the floral industry, there are some retail factors that will take precedence.
In this blog, we will discuss retail business basics that apply to the floral industry. Whether you are just selling floral arrangements or carry of variety of items in your flower shop these tips will help in establishing floral retail business rituals to maximize your sales.
Employee Training:
When it comes to hiring employees training, this is a Must Do! Employees are representing you, the face of your floral business brand.
Do not assume they know how to do everything, train them how to answer the phones, greet customers, and any other job-related requirements you have, even if it’s as basic as cleaning a workstation.
Often we hear from flower shop owners “Well my employee won’t or can’t do that, it’s too confusing for him/her.” Unfortunately in order to represent your floral business and if it is a job requirement, then your employees must learn and be trained in all, regardless if it’s comfortable to then or not.
Make sure your employees are always:
Courteous to customers
Look presentable
Punctual
Well educated and knowledgeable of their work duties
Know Your Competition:
Savvy floral business owners take the time to understand their competitors. Regardless if you are in a highly competitive location or small town, competition is still competition.
Know your competitors,
How are their floral designs?
What are they offering that your flower shop is not?
How is their flower shop look and feel?
What makes your flower shop different?
Knowing your competition is a way of maximizing your brand and standing out from the crowd. It also helps keep you up to date with industry trends.
Know Your Retail Math:
When you own a brick and mortar flower shop, every inch of your floral business is potential for extra income. Knowing what to carry in a floral shop can seem pretty easy, however, there are floral business owners who are now providing other retail items such as candles, home decor, skin care, toys and much more.
Offering a variety of retail products is a way to entice visitors to your store. Understanding your retail math is the only way to maintain profits in your floral business.
Pay special attention to:
COGS (Cost of goods sold): which is – Beginning Inventory + Purchases =Ending Inventory.
Markup: a candle markup is easily done, however, a floral arrangement may be a slightly more difficult. Be sure to include in your mark up for any pins, pics, card message paper, and anything you use in designing the arrangement.
GMROI (Gross Margin Return On Investment): calculate what is worth having for sale in your flower shop versus what is not. How large is your investment in this product line? Is this product a “need” or a “want” in your community?
Note: I know how many times we mentioned this, however, florists please STOP GIVING YOUR MERCHANDISE AWAY FOR FREE. No-one is getting anything free in any other retail businesses. florists, we do love and appreciate that you are so kind hearted and giving. Adding extra floral stems here and there and not accounting for ribbon or other miscellaneous items are not good for your overall retail success. Giving a little here and there adds up fast.
Know Your Merchandising:
Whether you carry a vast array of merchandise in your flower shop or just flowers and plants there is a technique to merchandising to the 5 senses. Floral business retails shops do have an upper hand when it comes to the 5 senses, with such beautiful flowers and plants. That being said there is still a bit of psychology to play on to have your products resonate with visitors.
When merchandising your floral business make sure you are appealing to these 5 senses:
1.Sight
Hard to believe however 85% of consumers say the color is what urges them to shop. A good tip is to limit your color scheme so it’s not overwhelming to your shoppers.
The research concludes that shoppers prefer open floor space that allows for easy movement and good visibility of all products. If you have a smaller shop this can still be easily achieved by decluttering.
Beautiful displays really do work in gravitating customers. Think about every detail of the display not just the products for sale but also furniture that is displaying the products these are all considered to be visually impactful.
Did you know: That subconsciously both females and males respond very well to the colors blue and green.
2.Smell
Appealing to the sense of smell comes fairly easy for flower shop owners who is merchandising for the sense of smell.
Flower shops offer an array of appealing scents that are invigorating to shoppers.
Make sure to keep your flower shop clean, this will appeal to both sight and smell.
Did you know: Of all scents, women prefer the smell of flowers over any other scent when shopping while men enjoy a more spicy scent.
3.Sound
The sound in retail has been heavily researched and many retail chains have studied the impact of various music brands and how it impacts customers when shopping.
Different retail stores will offer different kinds of music to maximize their sales.
Book Stores for instances plays soft music to create a sense of slower time and alter one’s perception of how long they are at their store. While trendy young clothing stores for pre-teens and teens opt for more louder, energetic music which works better for their customers in hyping then to purchase.
Florists sound is also important in your retail space and helps in creating atmosphere and eliminates sounds that may be negative to shoppers such as employee or other shoppers conversations.
Tip: There are tunes that are specific to your brand, flower shop owners consider offering songs that are specific to flowers, we know this sounds typical but works.
4.Touch
It is human nature to just want to touch things, create an environment that allows customers to engage with the products you have for sale.
When a customer touches or holds an item it gives them a more personal connection with the product for sale.
Keeping your products at eye level encourages touching and sales.
Touching is not only for products that you are selling, if you offer seating for customers, be sure that it is comfortable, this gives customers a sense of well-being.
5.Taste
Most floral businesses do not sell food, you may be thinking how do you engage the taste sense. Regardless if you sell treats at your floral shop, taste is a sense that can still be engaged by having small offerings to your visitors.
Consider offering a cup of coffee.
Allow for taste testing of your gourmet treats for sale.
Think of displaying free hard candy on your counter.
These are some easy ways to understand and get started with your floral retail merchandising. Florists, let’s hear your feedback! Do you have any important retail advice/tips that have been or are successful? Please share all your feedback, tips or any floral business retail related questions you would like addressed below.
____________
Floranext makes great florist software. Florist websites, floral POS, florist wedding/event proposal software, and florist technology. Let us know if you want a free demo or try our software for free here.
from Flower Decoration http://ift.tt/2raDOcO
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