#i like how they've made a point to mention what happened at that long pit stop

[petit-papillion]

For Leclerc, the horror show began with a power unit problem that cost him 80 horsepower and over half a second per lap.

Leclerc consequently had no chance of pushing to the front. However, his mechanics were not going to let this or the wet weather conditions get their spirits down. And when Leclerc came in to fit new intermediates during the safety car deployment on lap 25, the service time was really fast at 2.29 seconds. On lap 28, Leclerc pitted again, but this time was kept standing for 24.19 seconds, for which the crew were not to blame.

Instead, Leclerc carried out a hard reset with the help of the team, restarted the car and all the systems, which actually seemed to have got rid of his power unit problem. However, he had now lost a huge amount of time and was trailing in last place. Ferrari decided to take a gamble and sent him back out onto the track on hard slicks. But a brief rain shower ruined Leclerc’s last hopes of a comeback. Even a further tire change back to intermediates on lap 31 was unable to save his race. The speed of the pit service – 2.1 seconds – was however enough to secure the team the DHL Fastest Pit Stop.

Leclerc then drove another nine laps, trailing the leader by a full lap, before parking his car. “I knew that, with the problem, we would finish the race outside the points, so we had to try something with slicks,” he said, fending off criticism of the team. ”I was more frustrated by the whole situation with the engine. If we had managed to sort it out, we might have been in with a chance to maybe finish ninth or tenth.”

Source: inmotion.dhl

Well done, Guidos! It's a consolation prize, but well done all the same.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

angst? me? haha... 2.4k words of it actually c:

cw: slight sensory deprivation (blindfold/mention of going non-verbal)

you still remember the first time it happened. how could you forget? the sheer panic and rapid thoughts racing through your mind when the itch in your throat had produced a single, golden ginkgo leaf from your tongue.

in the stages of grief, it states there are five. you beg to differ since you spent so long staring at the yellow leaf in your palm for so long your eyes felt irritated from the lack of blinking. you couldn't just deny that something was so very wrong when the evidence had come out of you.

you didn't feel anger either. confusion, fear, the deepest pit you've ever experienced in your gut? that's what you felt, but not anger. this was something that was bound to happen one day if you lived long enough to see it, so it shouldn't anger you anyway. still, that doesn't mean that that stage was skipped.

no, jing yuan felt it for you.

jing yuan hated yaoshi, the adundance. he loathes them from the deepest, darkest and most tainted part of his soul. the loathing he felt no doubt could even be felt by the continuously passed on entity of his Lightning-Lord. it was a sick twist of fate that he had been with you when you coughed up that leaf, stood so closely within your personal proximity when your life started ticking away from him.

jing yuan was not a loud man when it came to his negative emotions. he- in fact- made a bad habit of keeping most of them internalized and kept solely to himself. may haps he would tell you or yanqing that which would plague him to the point of bursting- but those rare moments only happened well away from the public eye of the luofu residents. no, jing yuan is a man who radiates anger like a brewing lighting storm devoid of rain and thunder. it's quiet and heavy and skin crawling.

you were younger than him, you still had time to enjoy your long life before having to worry about the effects of mara. you should've still had time to enjoy your long life beside him.

"y/n," his voice calling you is breathless as he moves swiftly to stand in front of you. he takes your wrist gently- you can feel his fingers tremble ever so slightly- and he brushes that yellow leaf onto the ground under his boot. "let me see," he says. finally registering back into reality, you lift your chin and he's immediately searching your face and eyes for any signs of... just something.

maybe he was looking for something that was invisible. a way to prove that what just happened before his very eyes was a trick of some sort- maybe a sick prank you'd be begging him to forgive you for later. or maybe he had already reached a state of dreary understanding and was searching for a timeline of how much time you have left.

"jing yuan," you softly call, and he flinches when he hears the drag of your voice that indicates your painful coughs from a moment ago. "it..." you take a deep breath, "it's going to be fine. let's just go to lady bailu and-"

"no," he quickly shoots down before his brain could think otherwise. his outburst startled you both, and if it weren't for such a dire situation, his wide eyes that quickly scrunched closed may have been cute in a way. "no, just- nevermind." he lets out a deep sigh. "we should go see the dragon lady, you're right. and i-" should contact the ten-lords commission. but he doesn't want to. if he does, then you'll be taken from him and imprisoned with every other marastruck xianzhou native they've taken under his order.

his hands that were wrapped around your wrists grow slack and you easily slip free from his grasp. dropping one hand, the other raises to brush back the wild, white treses that always cover his right eye.

"we'll start with lady bailu, okay?" he just nods, not able to formulate words anymore. he had a letter sent to the alchemy commission announcing his visit along with you for the following day, giving him some time to compose himself. a single day would do you no harm after all.

"is there still nothing that can be done?" jing yuan knew the answer already. of course, there wasn't. there hadn't been for as long as he's been general- which was longer than most of his predecessors. the best 'solution' he had at this point was the small gourd gripped tightly in his fist. this had been his second time back to the alchemy commission, the first time had been with you but now he stands here alone.

"you know as well as i do," bailu's voice spoke as she stood in front of him with her hands on his hips, "this is the most advanced treatment i have. the alchemy commission is still no closer to finding a real cure, so please make do with this for now."

"i understand," there was no point in trying to converse longer. the longer he spent here the longer you waited for him back at home. he had contacted bailu with means on the downlow and had even attempted to keep who the afflicted person was if word did spread.

of course, that didn't work out like he wanted and just by his mannerisms alone, the young high elder knew it was you. she had never seen the luofu's general so disheveled before- normally able to keep a better lid on his emotions.

"you have my gratitude," he said before dismissing himself.

this small gourd could last a patient anywhere between a few days, a few weeks or at worst a few hours. your mara hasn't been active for long, just a day or two before jing yuan could get his hands on the elixir she uses for the marastruck soldiers she comes across.

"only administrator one ochoko of elixir a day! no matter how bad it gets, you cannot exceed that amount!" were bailu's specific instructions. he dares not go against them. at the very most he could stretch the treatment up to around 40 days if he was lucky.

and then there was the probability of you losing your mind quicker than he could treat you. so, he took another precaution.

when jing yuan returned back home, back to you, he had found you sitting on the wooden veranda surrounding the house. the breeze was something you always enjoyed. your head was angled up towards the sky, but you saw nothing behind the blindfold covering your eyes.

sensory deprivation. in cases of mara, cutting off senses of the body can slow the spread of it. surely with this and the dragon lady's elixir...

"y/n," he calls and you swivel your head towards his voice with a smile. one that was so innocent and warm he wished he could see your eyes.

"welcome back," you greet him as he pads softly over to you. running the pads of his finger across the skin just below your blindfold, his chest tightens. its not fair.

"i'm home." jing yuan is glad you cannot see his frown.

the time it took for the alchemy commission to finally find out jing yuan had been seeking bailu's guidance for a marastruck xianzhou native was more than his pessimism expected, but less than his desired yearned. he was cornered at the seat of divine foresight, surrounded by alchemy commission enforcers and yanqing who had been privy to the secret considering he lived with the general and you.

the general sat at his desk, his fingers weaved together and propped up by his elbows. his forehead lowered and resting on the backs of his hands with his scrunched-up expression hidden under his white mane of hair that had been tied up messier than usual- if one could believe it with the nest of hair he normally had.

hearing the underlings of bailu chew his ears off, he could only catch a glance of yanqing at his side. arms locked at his sides with his fists clenched- jing yuan could only imagine the face he was making.

"y/n must be apprehended and relocated to the shackling prison, general. you're aware of this."

"all too well," he whispers to himself, but with the heavy quiet everyone can hear him. "yanqing," he calls without lifting his head.

"general?" the general had never heard the boy so soft spoken before. all his bravado seems to have shrunk.

"i will be contacting the ten lords commission," he swallows. "please make preperation for it."

"yes, general." the painful swallow in the young boy's voice was enough to tell jing yuan that he understood.

'go spend time with y/n before they're gone.' that was what jing yuan really said.

soon, jing yuan's office was clear of all guests and he finally lifted his head and leaned himself back in his chair. letting out a breath, he knew it was coming. you had been coughing up more leaves than he had expected and despite everything he tried, the affliction was ruthless.

it wasn't fair.

the next day, jing yuan had decided to do one finally task. for himself and for you. instead of waiting for the ten lords commission to come knocking at his doorstep, he was going to take one last final measure. even if it changes nothing and you're still taken away from him- perhaps it could extend your sanity just a little while longer. that alone would give jing yuan the smallest peace of mind.

your body had been getting weaker, and patches of yellow gingko shaped markings had spotted all over your body. jing yuan had to practically carry you all the way to the divination commission to meet with fu xuan.

"general," fu xuan's soft voice speaks as he undoes your blindfold but softly instructs that you keep your eyes closed for him. "are you sure you want to do this?"

"i've made my decision."

replacing your blindfold, the general places his palm across the span of your eyes. your hand reaches up to gently rest on his wrist and he can see the cursed yellow blotting you under your sleeves meant to keep it hidden. he grimaces.

"you're taking my memories... aren't you?" your voice had gone scratchy and distorted a few days ago, so you had refrained from speaking. another pointless suppression tactic.

"yes, my dear," he brings you down to your knees beneath the matrix that was ever turning. he kneels with you, keeping his hand over your eyes. "i am."

"yanqing?"

"he knows. i... i asked him not to come." he didn't want you to look that boy in the face and not know who he was. "after this, you'll be taken to the shackling prison." jing yuan closes his eyes and lets out a heavy breath. "i'm so sorry."

"i know." your gentle grasp on his wrist tightened and he wishes you'd rip off his gauntlet and embed your nails into his skin just so he'd have something left of you after the day's end. "it'll all be okay."

"no," he refutes, "it wont."

"general," fu xuan wistfully calls. "the ten lords commission will be coming shortly. if you're sure about this, then we must act quickly." the general nods, lifting off his knee to lean and push his forehead against yours one last time. his bangs still tickle your face, and his skin is warm. the way he smells of tea and the elixir you had been taking envelops you and you feel oddly at peace.

the next and last time jing yuan see's your eyes, they're stripped of everything he ever memorized about them. and you didn't recognize him.

the buzz about the general losing you was all hush, like a ripple that kept coming into contact with him. you were gone, taken away from him and all he wanted to do was find a way to get past it. get over it. accept it. but all the outside noise just kept reminding him about how much it hurt.

the buzz turned into murmurs, turned into static and as the days past public life returned to normalcy on the luofu. now, as welt, march and the trailblazer all walk around the divination commission they pass by a small jade plaque that had been placed there several years ago. it looked well-kept and there was a name inscribed on it.

"so, was this y/n person important or something?" march asks, unaware of the intensity that question could hold for some. fu xuan looks at the plaque that used to sit comfortably at the seat of divine foresight before it was moved.

"they were. a very important person who meant a lot to all of us on the luofu."

"did they...?" march's voice was sad, and welt tries to keep her from asking anything more. the plaque was obviously a memorial.

"they were stricken with mara a long time ago." fu xuan takes a deep breath and turns to the curious girl. "i'll be happy to answer any questions you have about them, but you must not bring the subject up to the general under any circumstances."

"the general? but why not?"

fu xuan's face falls and his lips curl over her teeth in a small frown that was biting back too many things she need not disclose to outsides ears.

"it would be pointless." was all she replies.

fu xuan looks longingly at the matrix and can picture the face of the general who had completely recovered from the loss of his partner. the general who will gaze out over his desk at the large star chess board in his office. the general who still entertains his young retainer in both combat training and chess games. the general who still had a bad habit of dozing off and slipping away from his seat and paperwork.

the general who doesn't remember he was ever in love to begin with.

sometimes, the general of the xianziou luofu finds himself starting out into empty space. the words 'it isn't fair' repeating in his subconscious bring a pain to him. he doesn't know what they mean. what wasn't fair? all he can do to shake the feeling and words is resume meditating.

jing yuan didn't know why he meditated. but he did know that he didn't want to remember why it hurts.

[isopod777]

thoughts on radicalisation through media, and how to pull young people out of the alt-right pipeline

one of the easier ways to introduce praxis to the uninitiated is through things that aren't packaged as philosophy or political thought. How do you make a child take their medicine? you sneak it into their food. this is actually something i learned from a YouTube vid on how to pull someone from the right to the left; you don't package it as politics. The success from the alt right pipeline *relies* on this tactic: you don't sell it as political, you sell it as something appealing. That's why that pipeline is so wide: they hook you in with something like memes, wellness communities, friendships, business.

yknow, frog and boiling pot. If you shove an apolitical person who's looking for community into a fascist party convention, they'll usually jump right out, because fascism is very overtly violent, and extreme. but if you shove an apolitical person who's looking for community into a wellness community, they won't realise until much much later that they've been hanging out and slowly starting to agree with their fellow fascist gym buddies that don't trust supermarket's meat products and protein because "you don't know what THEY're putting in the food, the upper echelons have control of the supermarkets so you have to shop here because they support real people like you and me".

in the same vein of introducing slowly, but without the intent of hiding intentions (I can source that is an instruction in the fascist playbook*). It's purely because the average person gets scared by ostracism: if you mention the word woke to an apolitical person they'll see alarm bells. if you mention things like abortion and feminism and unions - things that have been manipulated by fascists bzw - they're likely to know those words from the manipulated version instead of what they really are. They don't want to be ostracised from society like lefties are. They don't want to be a "woke lib".

i show these similarities between the averted introduction and the hidden intentions to make my point that both happen but with different attitudes

they're two extremes with similarly slippery slopes, and wherever you're put into life, you'll fall onto a certain area of one of those slopes. And it is *HARD* to climb the other way back up to the middle to make your own decision.

*source for the intent of not boiling the pot before the frog being to obscure violent end goal. from 4chan, the alt right's favourite forum

the third green paragraph: Keep the long-term goals covert, and don't ever reveal your power level. Power levels are a dogwhistle:

on the other hand with obscuring the leftist pipeline, you have things that serve a purpose to educate- science, history etc being cited more often. Harsh, overlooked realities that are unique to oppressed people (that's why there are so many queer nonwhite disabled poor activists/communists: it's much more common than a cishet white able bodied celebrity turning out to be emotional and fiscal activists). If you're born into a certain family, in a certain area, into a certain religion, if you get into a wreck and you become disabled, if you go broke, you have the very harsh realities of what it is like to live without privilege. Very often the cishet white celebs i mention, will turn to a lite version of activism because they briefly experienced hardship: a distant friend with a disability, a run in with a homeless person that they actually looked at, a documentary that made them cry.

that pit in your stomach of understood disappointment when you see someone from your background that grew up with the lack of privilege you have/had, and you see them now while you're still on the left and they've been tempted to disregard the things they witnessed... it's a very unique sadness. You know why it happens: people that want to fit in so they completely reinvent themselves from someone like you into something more appealing to the privileged. It sucks to be sad all the time. It sucks to have to have to listen to bigotry. It sucks to feel helpless. They want to not feel it, but instead of choosing to fight it directly, it's much more appealing to them to choose the opposition. The opposition doesn't have to think about politics. They don't have to be aware of tragedies. They don't want to feel helpless, and it's way easier** and cosier to choose the option that's morally dubious but very cushy and positive, than the option that is morally strong but doesn't see the benefits without hard work and being *very* aware, that naturally comes with the helpless feeling.

When one is faced with that empty feeling of helplessness, they can be remedied by people who relate to your struggle, and hope.

Siding with the people who are orchastrating your struggle, who will not relate to your struggle, does not give you hope. It is isolating.

the heroes in the stories usually have a big "friendship is the best" moment: they can't fight the big bad guy alone, but they can do it with their friends.

This brings me full circle to the packaging method of each pipeline's entry.

two children's books, with different pipeline entry. It's absurd to think that a toddler would be interested in fascism, or it's opposite, communism. but they like picture books, and if they love that book enough, they'll know it by heart. That shapes part of you, and it always stays with you through your life.

The first book:

this is a book currently going around parents looking to comfort their children about the social fighting between Zionists~~Jewish people~~ and anti-zionists, between israel and palestine+lebanon

but it's packaged about a young girl learning about her ancestors from her dad, and learning why she's strong just like they were, and how the things that their ancestors did have always been hated by bad people. the loud scary bright lights in the sky are them making sure that the bad people don't hurt them anymore.

it's packaged sweetly with kids illustrations (im fairly sure it's AI but I digress) and it's an easy to understand story that will stay with those children, because it's about something pertaining to them. they're living through what the book is about, after all.

that book could stay with a child into adulthood because it shaped part of their core beliefs, so in the future they'll be placed on one side of the altright pipeline, as zionism is an ethnonational+cultural colonial movement. These things, and the zionist colonial project (aka Israel) go hand in hand with fascism.

The second book:

this is an older book that's about a very shiny fish learning to make friends by sharing his precious shiny scales with everyone, so everyone can be shiny too. It's a very popular book, it's bright and cutely illustrated and appeals to kids.

but I have seen it be called "the children's communist manifesto", because the story is about sharing with everyone to make friends and be equal. Those same morals could stay important to a child who could grow to hold that as a value, and see the benefits of socialism or communism (sharing vs hoarding wealth)

anyway in this essay i mean to say that the base morals in these books are more digestable to an uninitiated mind. Those same morals, as long as you value them enough, will carry you through how you go through hardship.

and when you're older maybe you don't like books anymore, certainly not children's books - but you can play video games, and watch movies. Those are popular. Games aren't usually about your hardships, they usually involve some level of seperation via roleplaying. But creators tend to create stories that reflect their experiences; even the most abstract products can be produced by people with a specific moral profile or with a moral story in mind. Game about fish could be about communism. Superhero movie could be funded by the CIA to make kids want to be soldiers.

**final note: it seems easier *for some*, depending on environment, proximity to wealth and whiteness, etc.

[shyrose57]

It works very much like illusions. Ranbob can see him but can't touch him. While Dream can touch him (though it feel like more of a faint touch). The entire time Ranbob feels like he's dreaming but due to physical evidence, like notes left by Dream, he knows it isn't a dream. He's just kinda existing. But in actuality he's not completely "there", sometimes he is aware of what's going on (though he never remembers more often than not) but that's when Dream allows it, other than that he's either floating aimlessly in the void or dreaming. Not aware of what's happening. 

Definitely, Enderman tend to be 7 ft+. Infact when traveling and Enderman spot Ranbob, they always voice their worry about him being so short. They know he's a hybrid so he was always going to be shorter than them, but he shouldn't have been this short. His growth is permanently stunted. Its a miracle he even got those 2 inches to be honest. Ran was definitely caught off guard seeing Ranbob so short. But quickly dismissed it in favor of attacking him. But later on as time passes, he can't dismiss the unease and concern he gets when he thinks about the difference so easily as he did eailer. The Gladiators notice right away but don't comment on it, the Fishermen think Ranbobs height is normal so when they meet Ran and learn Enderman hybrids typically grow that big and bigger their caught off guard, Cletus and Charles attempt to question Ran what its like to be so tall but Benjamin stops them. 

He did, the Dream Mask has a small bit of it broken off due to it being dropped (Ranbob didn't break it. He suspects maybe when it was being transferred it got dropped in its holding box and thats what broke it). Ranbob picked it up because he meant to throw it away, but he forgot too. Giving Dream more time to get a hold on him. They talked about whatever came to mind at first since Benjamin didn't want to start off with the rough questions. But eventually the two did start to talk about what happened to Ranbob and who/what Dream was.

Dream does not consider it important enough because he thinks he's never going back there. So it falls into disrepair and gets all dusty with some mold even growing in the room. 

Dreams petty and likes being in control of everything. But Dream would just kinda wander, making sure no ones alive. Every now and again he'll get bored and just destroy something. The fishermen explored and read about the history of Mizu while they were there, then after Ranbob attacked them spent most of the time arguing about what to do with him. 

It just leads to Cletus being mean/rude to Ranbob and taking much longer than the others to be comfortable around him. If that's what you mean.

-------------------

Yes! When it was down to just 4 people left alive in Mizu, Ran stumbled upon the 4th person dead, then it all kind of clicks in his head, as the only other person currently alive is a Council Member, that it has to be his brother. So he rushes off to find the Council Member so they can stop Ranbob, only to find Ranbob standing over his dead corpse. Thats when the chase around Mizu ticks off that ends with Ran fleeing Mizu. 

Cause while spiders are passive in daytime, creepers aren't, and don't burn in the light. Plus they are loud with their explodes (yet oddly quiet) which can give his position away.

Eh I'll say. Their not really super common because mixing them can cause serious side effects during and after mixture. But the healing, sleep aids, and infection mixtures are common as they've been figured out and can safely be made. Fun fact: Subbin actually has an entire community and an official place in the government for figuring out potion mixtures, making new ones, and making the mixing process as safe as possible. 

The group doesn't really use the mixtures much, expect for Rans sleep aid and a every now and again healing mixture when a Pit match goes wrong. Cause Grievous used to intern in a potion shop and learned all about them then.

He really did. 

Your right! Not many people traverse it. Because he was a Technoblade follower, and they typically get taught the bare basics of surviving in environments like the Nether, deserts, snow, caves, etc in their teachings. He got da book from his Idol teachers, everyone in his Idol group got a book as well. 

You can ask! I welcome any and all questions.

There's gold coins (I forget the actual in-game name oop) ore deposits in the Nether, so he mines that. Not any specific ones, cause there is still a language barrier and a mostly gesture barrier (expect for the universal ones like wait, ok/good, no harm, etc). 

They made a group decision to try to check the Nether on a whim. Though mostly cause one guy just wouldn't shut up about it. They found a broken portal and managed to repair it enough to enter.

The Fishermen and Ranbob where kinda confused (cause Ran hadn't fully told them about his time on the run.) But expressed sympathy at his house being burned down. Jackie and Grievous wanted to search it for anything usable, Ran didn't let em cause he thinks there's nothing left. Watson shoots Ran a sympathetic look and declared that he wants to keep moving to find shelter. Benjamin quickly agreeing and the group moves on.

---------Tip of The Iceberg-----------

He does not expect in all of their times he's still the God of the world. 

Honestly, most of them were fine. Bad was the only one who was mad and wasn't ok with it. The Masquerade, The Pit, Sam, Sapnap, Quackity, Foolish, Ranboo, Skeppy, Tubbo, Tommy, and Karl all say the Egg wrote it because they all have had experience with the Egg. The Haunted Mansion, The Wild West, George, Fundy, Eret, Jack, Niki, and Puffy all say XD because they've either had no experience with the Egg or believe in XD's existence. Philza and Technoblade actually go both ways. (If I forgot someone, oops). 

Technoblade, Phil, Niki, The Pit, The Wild West, Puffy, Sapnap, and Sam are all on the Frontline. While the others are all split between research into the egg (The Masquerade is in this one of course), and running tests. Fundy is a runner, delivering orders, requests, or new information. Foolish is on both the researching, testing, and frontlines, he is on the frontlines when needed but otherwise is researching and testing. Karl is typically somewhere with one of the many Traveler groups. Quackity, Eret, and Sam (when not on frontlines) are on planning duties. 

The Egg is strong enough to propose a real and constant threat to the groups. Everyone is typically on the move to avoid the reaching of the Egg and its Eggpire. 

Bad hasn't gotten what he wants, which is Skeppy. And as he has "opened his eyes" a bit he sees the hypocrisy, manipulation, and lies that surround the Egg and wants out. 

----------------------

Ye ye Brothers AU sorry.

The fishermen get to their home, wake up the next day, and Ranbob is already making a field for wheat and potatoes. Benjamin fucking squawks and races out to make Ranbob stop. And Isaac eventually has to come out and help cause Ranbob is refusing to leave. Cletus laughs at Ranbob and makes fun of him but stops when he sees Charles sadly staring at him. A silent ask to stop. 

He does but Porkius is chill and let's the Gladiators do whatever they want as long as they are still in fighting condition for matches and gives them money every week. Plus he's chill and is kinda friends with them. But sometimes Porkius has them go to extravagant parties with him. They all hate going, not just Ran. Mostly cause the rich people are snobs and either 1. Constantly insult them in conversation than act surprised when they get mad at them and report it to Porkius. 2. Talk with them but talk exclusively about themselves and are insensitive to the Gladiators. But sometimes there's actually people at the parties who are genuinely curious and kind and want to get to know the Gladiators. Those conversations are pleasant and the Gladiators, no matter who it is, actively enjoy the conversation.

Ran has always been mischievous. Even witnessing murder, being traumatized, hunted constantly, and fighting non-stop hasn't changed that. If anything he got more mischievous over time. 

Something extra I wanted to share: 

-There is music in world and the player the Gladiators share get brought on the trip so they can play music the entire time. 

  -Ran and Grievous fight over who gets to pick music often.

    -Fun fact about why I did this: Every single part of this story and all others has been either created by or inspired by music. For example the Tip of The Iceberg AU was solely inspired by the song True North (by Vocal Line), while Brothers AU was made from Ruler of Everything (by Tally Hall) and partly Mind Electric (by Miracle Musical). So I wanted to include music somehow. (I actually have a entire playlist with music that I've used for certain parts of the Brothers AU.)

Brothers AU:

Interesting, interesting. What triggers these 'dreams'? Can Dream do it, or is it like just something that happens?

I'm assuming only the brothers would know what the Endermen are saying, but there's also body language, so how does everyone react to that behavior? Do one of the brothers ever tell them what's being said, or? What's everyone's thoughts on Ranbob's height, seeing as the Fishermen were surprised, and the Gladiators immediately noticed?

How does Benjamin feel about what he hears? Is he a bit skeptical at first, or fully believing Ranbob's words?

So the room's in disrepair, interesting. At some point, it's mentioned that they go back there, I think, so does that strike anyone as odd?

He destroyed stuff? Like just general items or artifacts? How did Ranbob feel, if/when he was aware?

------------------

Why didn't he assume it was the Council Member? What clues led him to his brother instead?

Understandable.

Oh, that's really interesting!

World building galore, fantastic!

Who was the one guy?

He thinks? Was there something left then?

-----------------

Tip Of The Iceberg AU:

Still the god? He didn't expect that? Was someone else supposed to be? If so, who? What's his reaction to learning such?

Bad seems to be straying from the egg, does he intend to leave it? Or does it have a way to keep him?

Do we have any particular groups here? People who fight or work well together, and kind of drift to one another? What sort of dynamics do we get with all of this, especially since everyone's on the move constantly to avoid the Eggpire.

------------------

Brothers AU:

Benjamin: Whatcha got there?

Ranbob: Excessive labor when I should be resting.

Benjamin, gasping: NO!

What are the parties typically like? Do they behave or cause havoc? Switch it up? Anyone in particular they don't hate talking to there?

Always mischievous, just better at hiding it. Wait, that means Ranbob would have known he was like that, wouldn't he? He'd know exactly what to expect. Would anyone else? Either way, that should be amusing.

------

What kind of music do they have, and what does everyone prefer to listen to?

(Time to go on a song-spree!)

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Basically what happened was that someone put the sarcastic lore Olympus video another anon mentioned in a server im in and when I mentioned that I dont think that Lore Olympus is the best interpretation of H/P in part due to how non-greek the whole story was, the shit started. Excuses ranged from "Greek polytheism isn't exclusive to Greece" to " im not saying you're wrong but I know a lot of Greek polytheists" (I especially got mad at this one) to "it's an American story and the myths naturally reflect what Americans see in each other" to "many colonized places had Greek and Roman fetishized culture thrust upon them" and "American culture is deeply seeped in Greek myth and Greek polytheism is a thriving culture here" (send me the fuckin thesis) and then what really boiled me was their blatant shock at the fact that Zeus could *gasp* love Hera and be good to her. And then claimed they've read all sorts of myths for decades. Gems like "half of the heroes in Greek mythology aren't Hera's kids" like Ares and Hepheastos just don't exist ig. Then blaming me for getting angry and upset for all around being disrespectful to the gods. Thank fuck someone was on my side because I was just so fucking over it. God and all heavens above forbid you tell an American they got their history wrong and they're being disrespectful and hurtful in doing so. The worst part is that I tried to be polite through the whole thing. Tried. I dont know how I was coming off, but God fucking damn it i tried. Fucking hell, claiming that the need to study Greek mythos in your AP Us History class doesn't fucking mean it's baked into your culture. It made me so frustrated and now I can't even fathom talking to the people involved when they so staunchly defended something and claimed to be educated when it's obvious they weren't. I got an apology from a few people which I appreciated, but f u cking hell. Sorry for the long ask.

1) "Greek polytheism isn't exclusive to Greece" - Yeah SO? Does this make LO better? Does it negate the fact the planet knows only inaccurate/whatever Americanized movies about Greek mythology?

2) " im not saying you're wrong but I know a lot of Greek polytheists" SO??? You are allowed to have your own opinion! Plus, Greek polytheists can still be uneducated and follow practices they read in Percy Jackson and are used only to pop culture Americanized versions of how the gods are

3) "it's an American story and the myths naturally reflect what Americans see in each other" Nobody said those stories aren’t allowed to exist! The f-ing point is the Greco-Roman deities are treated like American property!“American story and the myths naturally reflect what Americans see in each other” it’s ALL THAT THE WORLD WATCHES. INCLUDING GREEKS.

Don’t they realize the US is an imperialist country or what? Those stories are everywhere and we are bored. If all you have to show is “Greek gods in US and Canada” x 1000 times and “The Greek gods used to show American social issues”x 1000 times just throw me into a bottomless pit already.

And then they have the nerve to say “but this is representation for you!” No, it isn't if you make Hera into a Karen and Zeus into Bill living in their mansion in Manhattan, showing no hint of my culture (OR Greek American culture) apart from some names and some basic powers! You might as well make them Egyptian gods and the script won’t change.

4) "many colonized places had Greek and Roman fetishized culture thrust upon them" How does that excuse the stupid stuff in LO?? What does a white woman in Australia have to do with how culture was forced to change in colonized cultures??

Why should Greeks see the disrespect of their figures because other countries promoting a *fetishized* image of their ancient culture to other countries they colonized? Why is the US continue to glorify that *fetishized* (as this person said) standard?

Plus, it’s not like Indigenous Americans or Africans from formerly colonized countries consider Zeus part of their culture. Yes, the philosophy of West European nations and certain standards were unfortunately forced upon them but they know the gods are not theirs! (As opposed to many formerly not colonized people in the US)

And if you speak with people from countries on this side of Atlantic which were colonized by France or England you will see they don't deem this mythology theirs! In most of these countries, the citizens merely know the basic stuff about Greek mythology. All they know comes from - you guessed it - American shows about Greek mythology!    

5) "American culture is deeply seeped in Greek myth and Greek polytheism is a thriving culture here" Okay just... what? 😂😂😂😂😂 I swear this fetishized version they accuse colonizers of spreading, they have it themselves and don't recognize it. It’s apparent, as they often see Greek mythology as “a thing of the White man” and want to “subvert” it to send a message. Meanwhile have they thought about how Greeks feel about this? Naaaah fuck dem Greeks. Who cares, it’s not like their culture is Greek any more, right? Who knows what language they speak nowadays these exotic people...

And “Greek polytheism is a thriving culture here”?? North America has hundreds of millions of people. The 500 internet friends you have who are in Greek polytheism is not even a fraction of that. 

“The need to study Greek mythos in your AP Us History class doesn't fucking mean it's baked into your culture.” I agree with your statement. Moreover, guess who fought to keep the heritage alive for thousands of years? Greeks. Copying manuscripts, analyzing ancient philosophy, protecting heritage monuments, songs, religious customs, etc. Do they think Greeks sat on their asses for a blank 2000 yrs??

Final thoughts:

Greek mythology aside, people who claim to know something when they are ignorant and they don’t offer to search for things they don't know, are immature and cause harm to whoever tries to argue with them. It’s good you got an apology from some, I am happy when people want to research something they don't know! 

But that server in general... doesn't seem very inclusive (ironically). And if you weren't a Greek (aka not perceived as oppressed in N. America xD) they would take you more seriously and they wouldn’t say “but I have other Mixed Brazilian friends who don't complain about the cultural misrepresentation!” I find it natural if you don't want to engage with them any more :/ See what is best for you 💙

[mermaidxatxheart]

The Queen of Wishful Thinking

Ok. So, this is the start of a new series that I’ve been working on for a couple years. This is the prelude to my teen wolf story. It’s an OFC. If you’d like to be tagged, let me know. send me an ask. I’m not stopping my other works. I’m still continuing all of my Bucky stories and the requests that I’ve received. I haven’t forgotten about them. But I’m struggling with the toxicity of the Marvel fandom at the moment. I won’t be tagging anyone from my Marvel tag lists specifically because they didn’t sign up for this genre. If you want to be on both, let me know. Here we go. Also, thank you to everyone who read this for me and encouraged me to post it. You guys have been sent by the gods. I love you so much.

Pairing: OFC X Derek Hale (future)

Word Count: 6732

Warnings: abuse, mentions of blood and violence. descriptions of pain and torture.

Summary: Aryanna was a special girl. Her parents got exactly what they wished for. But she’s the one paying the price. 

My birth should have been the best thing that ever happened to my parents. They had prayed to the gods for so long to bless them with a special child.

 Be careful what you wish for.

I tried to be normal.

 I tried desperately to be like everyone else.

 And the reality was that I wasn’t that different. I didn’t have extra arms, or a second belly button or anything weird. What made me special wasn’t visible. I don’t know what made him choose me, all I know was that it made my life miserable. Lord Apollo, the god of music, poetry, prophecies, light and truth, had picked me to bear the gift of foresight. Apparently, he was also the god of stupid decisions.

 Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I was different. It was supposed to be a special gift, craved by many. I was to be the next Seer. It was a popular practice in those days, most every village had one, as long as it was large enough. The one in my village was useless. He was called Aischylos. It should have been an obvious tell to anyone who spoke to him, seeking advice and consul that he’s a liar and a fraud since his name means ‘shame’. But, as usual, people see and believe what they want to.

 The very first vision I had was of my father when I was four years old. I had stayed home with my mother while she prepared her wine to sell. I was playing on the floor next to her and my sight disappeared. I blinked several times, and when it cleared, there was something strange about it. It was in front of me, but I could tell it wasn’t true. If I were to reach out and touch it, my hands would pass through air. It was rounded, and not all together clear, like I was looking at it through water. My father walked through the door with a large sack full of fish, a magnificent catch for the aging fisherman. I shook my head and my father was gone. I looked up at my mother and she smiled down at me.

 “Papa did good today, Mama.” I said simply and went back to playing with my wooden centaur figure. My father returned home soon after just as I had seen it in my mind. My mother looked from my father to the little girl sitting at her feet and she smiled wide, clearly happy but I was too young to understand what it was. 

 I didn’t see anything for a long time after that, I was close to my fifth year, I spoke to my mother of a time of man that was far away. A time when houses and structures soared high into the sky and horses were no longer used for common travel. I had seen it in a dream and it fascinated me. I had made the mistake of telling my mother in the market place and people overheard. Word spread like wildfire through our village about what I said, and the Seer, Aischylos, realized what it meant. That I was to take over his position. He no longer would get the respect and honor and good treatment that came along with his title. It would be handed over to a little girl and he would be cast aside, forgotten and forced to return to the status of everyone else in the village. He had spent countless years forging his ability that he didn’t have to get the status he didn’t deserve. He couldn’t just allow some stupid girl to take that away from him. But he bided his time, knowing I would not be eligible until my twelfth year. He watched me carefully, finding chances to whisper lies about me. He was a master of patience and manipulation.

 Living in a coastal village, there wasn’t much to do. But I was an adventurous girl, always finding places to hide and run off to. The other children would ask me questions to watch me predict the future, but I wasn’t allowed to give too much away. So, I enjoyed playing in the woods with the nymphs and satyrs, they didn’t care about using me to see the future. But they usually avoided the humans unless to tease them, so they were never much help in defending me. He would follow me, see that I was alone and go back to the village, whispering tales about witchcraft and evil. By the time I was nine, no one in my village trusted me. I was all but shunned. My mother and father were having issues at market, no one wanted to buy from them and it turned them bitter, turned them against me.

 My mother raged against me. Always berated me for any task that I did. No matter how well I did it, no matter if it was perfect, she would destroy it and shout at me, hitting me. My father couldn’t stand the sight of me. He would hit me for no reason at all. He encouraged his friends, our neighbors to hit me. They made me believe that I was a mistake, and the only way to make it right, to get them to love me, was to pray to the gods, begging Zeus and Apollo to take away this curse and make me like everyone else.

 Every night I would make the very long trip to Zeus’s temple, light candles and make offerings for the gods. Then I would pray with all my might that they would relieve me of this burden, so that I may be accepted. Every night, praying until I was numb with exhaustion. But I received no answer to my prayers, no matter how hard I muttered them and shouted them. No matter how many years I prayed, or food I sacrificed.

 When it became obvious that the gods weren’t going to answer my prayers, my father blamed me. He would hit me senseless and tell me I wasn't praying hard enough. There was no point in trying to hide the cuts and bruises on my skin, no one cared about me enough to even ask if I was okay. The villagers would even contribute at my father’s encouragement, throwing stones and rotten fruit at me, whatever they could find.

 One day, in the darkness of the early morning during my fifteenth year, I was roused out of a deep sleep. My father demanded I attend him on his boat with my mother. It had been a long time since they've wanted me on the boat, or even anywhere near them.

 I had a terrible feeling as I blundered around on the deck. Nerves racked my body, a heavy pit settling in my stomach. It had been so long since I handled the nets, my fingers had forgotten what to do. My mother was staying up by my father on the helm, speaking so quietly I had no chance of hearing. I stumbled over the ropes and crates littering the deck as we sailed smoothly out further into the vast expanse of Lord Poseidon's realm. Finally, I gave up on trying to move around and sat towards the front, watching the horizon grow lighter with Apollo rising the sun. I had a knot in my stomach-fear that they were going to bring me someplace to leave me, finally to be rid of me. But that seemed to not be the case as my father called across the boat for me to cast the nets.

 A few hours later we were finished, sacks of fish crowded the deck and a bloody spear was propped up against the mast. My father used it to defend the boat from the vicious sharks. We were headed back to land and I was starting to feel the knot in my chest loosen and relax. Maybe they really just needed my help. I was carrying a length of rope across the boat when it jerked suddenly. I lost my balance and fell forward just as the spear tipped towards me. It pierced my skin as easily as a knife through goat cheese and pain flared, burning my side. I cried out, flinging my hand against the mast to keep myself upright. I looked up at my parents for help, but they just stood at the wheel, watching my lifeblood pour out of my side.

 "Mama! Papa! Please!" I called desperately. I tried to pull the spear out of my side, but every time I touched the wooden handle, the pain only got worse. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I watched my parents turn their gazes away from me, pretending I wasn't dying. The boat bumped against the harbor dock and I scrambled away towards the side, frantic to get away before they finished killing me. 

                                                The spear got tangled on a rope and fresh blood ran out. I clamped my jaw shut and yanked it out. The pain nearly made me pass out, I swayed slightly and pressed my chiton against my side, hoping to stop the loss of the precious red liquid. The sight of it was making me dizzy as I struggled up over the side and up the dock. I barely managed to make it to my feet as I wobbled back towards the center of the village.

 I knew by now that it was useless to beg anybody to help me, I would have to do this on my own. I stumbled into my home, crashing into the walls as my vision swam. I gathered my mother's bone needle and linen threads from the loom where she crafted our clothes. I shook my head violently to clear my vision, but I only succeeded in losing my balance and falling against the door. I forced my way outside and headed for the tree line, able only to focus on managing that.

 The forest floor crunched beneath my feet, pine needles breaking and the noise was deafening. Branches whipped at my face as I ran, looking for privacy to stitch myself. I had heard of soldiers doing this in battle from the men at market. I just hoped I knew what I was doing. I found a large tree and slumped against the base, exhausted. My hand was covered in red as I numbly lifted the bone needle and the thread. I tied the thread through the hole and made a knot at the other end. It took me a dozen tries, my hands shaking and my vision blurring. My fingers were losing feeling and the linen kept slipping out of my hand, but I had to do this. I refused to let this be how I die.

 Somehow I managed to get the knot finished and I raised my arm, preparing myself to pierce my skin once more. The needle was thick, and long; and I had no sort of numbing agent to dull the pain.

 This would not be pleasant.

 I stabbed the needle through my skin, just below the wound and my vision clouded over, going black. The scream was unstoppable as burning hot pain spread across my chest. Everything in me begged me to stop, but I knew I couldn't. I needed to keep going, even though everything would be easier if I just let go. But that wasn't who I was. I didn't give up. I didn't quit even though the gods ignored me, I didn't give up on my parents - and I still wouldn't, even though they just tried to kill me. And I refused to give up on this, even though it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt before.

 I dragged the large needle through my skin, pulling tight and closing the wound. My lifeblood was already slowing down, becoming stickier. I pulled the needle through one last time and let it fall against my skin. I was exhausted both mentally and physically and I just wanted to sleep. My eyes fluttered closed and the vision started.

 A little boy of about three was running around a room. I couldn't see the details of the space, they were blurred, but I could hear his laughter, his tiny giggles. He ran around a table, his jet black hair blown back out of his face as he ran, his eyes green and bright. I saw myself chasing after him and I was laughing, looking truly happy. I could feel vision me, her happiness and contentedness flow into me and I felt at peace as I watched that little boy laugh. I didn't recognized the clothes on my body, they were foreign and unfamiliar but they weren't the important part. The little boy, he would be special, I could feel it in my bones.

 "Perseus!" I called to the little boy. He laughed hysterically and dove under the table, hitting his head on the bottom. He began to cry and I picked him up, comforting him as he clung to me. He turned around in my arms and seemed to look right at me.

 "Get up!" He said loudly and my eyes flew open.

 I groaned as I realized that night had fallen. I would have to walk back in the dark. I gingerly finished with the thread and began making my way back to the village. I would not give up, if only for the sake of seeing that little boy. I was determined to be that happy and content one day. I wouldn't stay here and be miserable forever.

 * * *

On the night of my eighteenth year, I was in the temple by myself, crying as I prayed. That day had been an exceptionally difficult one. I should have been Seer by then, but I wasn’t given the position because of people’s continued hatred of me. Aischylos was making a mess of everything. A little girl had gone to him with her mother for consul and he failed to warn them that the little girl would be hurt. A boy driving his father’s chariot had nearly run them down in the street, but I saw it before it happened. I pulled them out of the way and saved them, but my thanks was being screamed at that I was a monster and being pelted with stones. They hit me all over my body, cutting my skin and breaking my chest bones.

 So here I sit, on the temple floor, crying my eyes out, praying for relief. I want no part of this curse anymore.

 The candles had long since melted low, burning at the bitter end of their lives, and the sacrificial fire was all embers now. My head sank low on my chest with exhaustion from crying and shouting at the gods. I had run out of tears hours ago, but I had also run out of energy to make myself get up and go home. My eyes fluttered closed, blocking out the flickering light and the stone floor. The noise of the wind and sea outside dimmed remarkably as I drifted to sleep. I found that I preferred it here lately, no one to hate me here.

 I don’t know how long I slept there before a massive bang woke me. I fell back with a shout of surprise as I stared up at two figures standing twenty feet tall. I screamed and scrambled for the exit, tripping slightly over my chiton. One of the figures moved so quickly that I barely had time to blink my eyes before he was between me and the way out. I slid as I tried to stop, falling to the hard ground and hurting my wrist.

 “Is that any way to greet the Lord of Olympus?” The figure behind me growled. I looked between the two menacing figures and forced my pounding heart to slow.

 “L-Lord Zeus?” I stammered.

 “Obviously, girl. Use those eyes of yours.” He huffed. I quickly stood and bowed low. Zeus was not a figure to make angry.

 “Um, Lord Zeus, what are you doing here?” I asked, glancing at him as the other figure moved back beside Zeus. I recognized him as Apollo. He was very handsome with blond hair and deep blue eyes, tanned skin and a lithe muscular build. Zeus grunted and looked at Apollo, who tilted his head and raised a shoulder.

 “These mortals.” Zeus sighed. “You prayed to me, didn’t you, girl?” He snapped. I flinched back as his voice rumbled around the temple. Thunder clapped loudly outside as his anger flared. I clenched my jaw in annoyance.

 “I’ve prayed to you every night since I was nine!” I snapped back. “What are you doing here now?” He raised a dark eyebrow at me. I sighed and sat down hard, crossing my legs and holding my head in my hands. My forehead still stung where rocks had hit it, reminding me just how much of a horrible day I’ve had.

 “When you live for forever, girl, a few years means nothing to a god. You’ll understand what I mean.” He said, raising his hand. I snapped my head up, having to almost look straight up at him.

 “What?”

 “Your punishment.” Apollo said, looking down at me.

 “M-my punishment?” I shrieked. “For what?”

 “Your punishment.” Zeus said coldly. “You were given a gift and you want to throw it away. You think it’s a curse, well-I’m going to give you lifetimes to learn to appreciate your gift.”

 “No! You don’t understand! They hate me!” I shouted, tears filling my violet eyes once more.

 “They can’t hate their Seer.” Apollo said, frowning down at me.

 “I’m not their Seer! I’m not anything.”

 “What did you just say?” Zeus demanded, thunder clapping loudly outside.

 “They refused to give me the position.” I said, the tears spilling down my flushed cheeks. “They kept the fraud.”

 “That’s not possible.” Apollo said, sharing a look with his father.

 “But it’s the truth. Please don’t do this to me, I’ll never survive. They torment me and abuse me day after day. My parents have already tried to kill me. I won’t make it another year!” I pleaded. Apollo shrank down to regular mortal size and moved in front of me, kneeling down to be on the same level. Not something gods usually do, but I must have looked extra pathetic so he took pity.

 “What did they do?” He asked gently, putting his warm hands on my face.

 “They call me a witch and throw stones at me. My parents told me I was cursed, that I should never exist.” I said, my breath coming in ragged gasps. “Please? I won’t live a day if you do this.” I whispered, choking on tears.

 “My father has already made up his mind. But you’ll have other gifts to help you survive. I promise.” Apollo said softly, pressing a warm kiss to my forehead. It felt like soft sunshine on a warm summer’s day. “Close your eyes. It will be over soon.” He said, helping me stand up and hugging me against him. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until I touched his body. He radiated heat that warmed me from my head to my toes. I shivered slightly and squeezed my eyes shut, just as he said.

 “Is it going to hurt?” I whispered, my face pressed against his robe.

 “I don’t know.” He answered honestly. Even though my eyes were shut tight I saw a blinding flash and an intense, white hot pain racked my body. I screamed in torment, pushing away from Apollo and stumbling backwards. I felt like my skin was peeling off my body, layer by layer. The pain was too much, I was sure that nobody could take this much pain and survive. I could feel my muscles pulling apart the way a rope untwines. I could feel every fiber detaching from my bones and then separating themselves. I felt like I was burning hot, but I couldn’t make it stop. I couldn’t do anything to block the pain.

 Then the worst part came. Every bone in my body was ripped apart, dislocated and shattered into a thousand pieces like broken pottery. I should be dead. There’s no way I could survive this, but here I was, feeling every single second of it. My organs melted and my brain boiled as they destroyed me. I staggered backwards, completely disoriented, my throat raw from screaming. Suddenly my feet weren’t touching the stone floor anymore, there was nothing but air under them and I was falling backwards, fifteen feet to the hard packed earth below. I stretched my hand out, searching blindly for Apollo, the closest thing to me, but came up empty.

 * * *

The first thing I noticed was the sunlight warm on my face. I blinked my eyes open slowly, hoping that I had just had a dream; a really, really bad dream and I could pretend it never happened. I was lying flat on my back, looking straight up and that’s when I first noticed that something wasn’t right. Instead of the thatched roof of my sleeping room, or the cold marble of the temple, I was looking at the green leaves of trees with sunlight streaming through casting a green color on my skin. I looked around me, finally realizing that I wasn’t at my home. I was lying on the floor of a forest, and not one that I recognized. I rolled over to my hands and knees, expecting my whole body to ache. 

 There was no way I could have experienced that amount of pain and not feel any the next day, but I felt completely fine. Even my wrist, which I had hurt when I fell, had no pain. I stood up, brushing the fallen leaves and twigs off me and glanced around. I didn’t recognize these woods at all. It didn’t even smell the same.

 I heard noises in front of me, it sounded like women talking. There must be a road close by. I took a deep breath and headed in that direction. Maybe there’s a sign telling me which way is home. I ran through the trees, tripping over fallen logs before finally reaching an empty pathway, just wide enough for a cart to get through. I saw the ladies just down the road and I hurried after them.

 “Excuse me.” I said, reaching them. The three older ladies turned and looked at me expectantly. “Can you tell me which way it is to Akoluthos?” I asked politely, praying they would have heard of it. The tallest lady pointed behind me and I glanced. “Do you know how far?”

 “Three days by this road.” The woman to her left said. I nodded.

 “Thank you.” I turned and headed back towards my home, not looking forward to the three day walk. I took my time, not rushing my pace, keeping it slow and steady. I knew I was in big trouble for not coming home last night. My father was sure to punish me. Not to mention the fact that I will have been missing for days. This will be the worst punishment I’ve ever had.

 * * *

I crested the top of the ridge that borders my village and looked out over it. I don’t know what I had been expecting, some sort of urgency that I had been missing for three days. But, probably I should have seen this coming, everything was going about as it normally would. The sun was setting low in the sky as I hurried down the slope and headed for my home. It was almost night.

 I glanced around as I walked, feeling a strange sensation on the back of my neck. I saw people I recognized, people I had grown up with, but none of them looked the same. The streets smelled different and I felt like everything had been replaced by duplicates that were the same, but different.

 This wasn't home anymore.

 “Mama? Papa?” I called as I ran inside. My mother was in the kitchen, getting the evening meal ready. It was as if nothing was amiss.

 “Where have you been, you wicked child?” She snapped, turning around with the wooden spoon already in her hand. I flinched back instinctively, but I had to answer.

 “I was at the temple praying, like you told me to. Lord Zeus and Lord Apollo came to me and they said I had to be Seer. They said I was going to live forever.” I rushed, getting my story all jumbled in my anxiousness to explain. “Then,” I heard my father moving behind me and I backed into the wall with a quiet whimper, trying to make myself as small as possible.

 “Girl.” My father said, his hard voice quiet.

 “Papa, the gods said that I was to be Seer. That I had to be Seer. They were so angry that I didn’t want their gift, that you didn’t want me to be Seer. They said that I’m your gift.” I said, looking at him with pleading eyes. I should have known it wouldn’t have done any good. 

 My father’s hand flew before I ever even saw it move. It cracked hard against the side of my face, sending me sprawling into the eating table and wall. I cried out in pain, feeling a crack in my chest. After a few seconds it was gone. I looked up at him, tears filling my eyes.

 “Papa,” I started to plead.

 “This was not a gift, girl. You were not a gift to us. You are a curse on this land, on these good people. And I’ve had enough of it. I won’t have a monster like you terrorizing us anymore.” He growled, reaching down and grabbing a fistful of my hair. Strands ripped out painfully under his rough hand and I cried out in protest, my hand reaching up to grasp his wrist, hoping to lessen the pain. He started dragging me towards the door and kicked it open out of his way.

 “Papa, please don’t! You’ll make them angry and they won’t forgive you!” I cried, kicking my legs out to get caught on anything. “Papa!” 

 He didn’t reply, he just marched towards the center of town, dragging me along.

 “Mama!”

 She was following behind, a torch in her hand. It was unlit, but ready for use. I cried and struggled against my father’s hand, but his grip was too tight. I couldn’t get free. The other townsfolk were starting to gather at the center where the home fire was burning, the hearth fire for Lady Hestia. One of my father’s friends, who greatly enjoyed beating me, was piling a few bundles of sticks and twigs around a large pole just a few feet away from the home fire. My mother’s sister was holding a few lengths of rope as my father jerked me upright and shoved me against the pole.

 They already planned all this.

 I tried to step away as he took the ropes from her, but he grabbed my arm and twisted it at an odd angle, making a loud snapping sound. I screamed as pain rushed through my body. He tied me to the pole, making sure I wasn’t able to escape.

 “Papa, please. I’m your daughter.” I sobbed.

 “My daughter is gone. She died a long time ago.” He snarled, standing back as my mother lit the pitch on the torch, using the flames from the home fire. That was against the rules. You weren’t supposed to use the home fire for anything besides making a new one in a new town and sacrificing food to the gods. My mother looked at her husband lovingly, holding out the torch towards him. I watched in terror as his hand covered hers and they lowered the torch to the pile of sticks at my feet. I struggled to get out of my bonds, but they were tied too tight and soaked with saltwater so they were swollen and unforgiving. The whole village was gathering around as the sticks took the fire, spreading around the base to surround me. I struggled harder against the ropes, but it was no use. The flames licked up the pile, flickering around my feet. I clenched my teeth, determined not to give the satisfaction. If I was going to die, I wasn’t going to die making them happy.

 The base of the pole caught the fire, the heat becoming unbearable now as the flames danced around my feet burning my skin. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to calm down, to think of something else besides the fire. I focused hard on something else, anything else. I found myself wishing, for the first time ever, to have a vision, something to see other than the faces in the crowd of my family as they watched me die.

 Maybe it was because I was wishing for one to happen, or focusing so hard I made it happen, but I caught the first flicker of a face. It was handsome, tanned and a little narrow, but still square at the same time. Green eyes and dark hair with a neatly trimmed beard. He was muscular and tall. I tried to stay focused on him, trying to see more of his surroundings, more of the vision but the pain of the fire was making everything fade away. The flames were up to my thighs now, melting my skin. I gritted my teeth, but I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I screamed, struggling harder against the ropes, but I was stuck there. The fire started to travel faster up my body. I let out a continuous scream of anguish, wishing I would just die already and get it over with. I wondered how Zeus and Apollo would keep their promise that I would live forever, if my parents had just killed me.

 The flames reached my neck and that was just about all my body could take. I felt myself drifting, only half feeling the pain as I slowly slipped away. The last image I had was of my parents standing in front of me, in the glow of my flames, smiling and kissing each other, so proud of themselves for getting rid of the big scary monster.

 * * *

I gasped loudly as air flooded my lungs. I opened my eyes, staring up at the sky, confused as all Hades as I tried to remember what happened. I slowly sat up, looking around and seeing my village. It was full dark, the middle of the night. I stood up, starting to dust myself off as I turned towards my home, only my hand didn't touch cloth, it touched bare skin.

 I was naked, my clothes were missing. I took a step towards home to get a new chiton, but then my memory came back, and I remembered what my parents did to me. I covered my mouth, feeling like I was going to be sick.

 “No. They wouldn’t do that.” I gasped, falling to my knees. “Mama and Papa, they wouldn’t.” I breathed. I looked around and saw the pyre where I had been tied up when my parents set me on fire. It was burned beyond belief, still smoldering in the night air. The comforting sea breeze blew through the village, lighting some of the faded embers to a slightly brighter glow. Where my body had been was just a pile of ashes now. Nothing resembling a human remains. I covered my face in horror, feeling my hands get wet from tears I didn’t know were falling. My stomach crawled into my throat as I remembered the pain. I retched but nothing came up, my stomach was empty. Lightening flashed and I looked up at the dark sky, noticing the thunder clouds rolling in.

 “What do I do?” I asked quietly. “They still don’t want me.” Thunder rumbled, low and menacing. Lightening flashed brightly across the sky and I got the warning. They were going to be punished, and I shouldn’t be here when it happens. I stood up and forced myself to move. I hurried through the houses, grabbing a chiton that was hanging out to dry. I clumsily tugged it on, fastening it as I ran. Rain started to fall, slow at first and then more heavily as I half ran and half stumbled to the ridge overlooking the village. I managed to make my way up in a reasonable amount of time as the rain became a downright deluge. I paused at the top, turning back to watch the home fire, which was visible from my location, flicker and die out. Also against the rules. The home fire was always supposed to be kept burning. 

 Thunder crashed loudly, angrily and the waves could now be heard crashing against the shore, sending the fishermen’s boats into the docks. I could hear the waves getting larger as they came further inland. I turned my head towards the sea, my eyes widening in horror as a massive tidal wave, taller than the gods themselves, surged up and crashed over the land, covering the entire village.

 Only, it didn’t fade away, like a normal wave. It held over the village, drowning everyone down there, asleep in their homes. They didn't even have time to scream.

 “No!” I cried out, taking a step towards the edge of the ridge. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I had to do something. I couldn't just let them die. Two strong arms caught me around the middle, holding me back. I fought against them, trying to pry them off me; I had to try and save them. This was all my fault. “Let me go! They’re dying!” I cried.

 “So? They killed you first.” The man said. I faltered, looking up at him, seeing Apollo.

 “That doesn’t mean I want them dead!” I protested.

 “It’s not your decision, Aryanna. They made my father angry. This is their punishment.” He said firmly. “I suggest you get over it quickly, because they’re gone. They’re not coming back.” He moved his arms from my waist to my arms. “And honestly, you deserve better.” He said.

 I shook my head. “They’re my family.” I said, my voice breaking as I looked pleadingly at him.

 “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but your family just murdered you.” He said, his mouth twitching up in an apologetic smile. “I mean, my family is nuts, but yours takes it to a whole new level. I mean, they even asked for a special kid. It doesn’t get a whole lot more special than a Seer.” I hung my head, my shoulders shaking as I cried. This was all so overwhelming. I had so many questions I didn't even know where to start. “Oh, um. Hey, it’s okay.” He said awkwardly, patting my back.

 “How is this okay?” I snapped, looking up at him. He jerked his hand back as if I might bite it off.

 “Oh, well,” He paused, thinking for a minute. “Because now you don’t have to be stuck with them forever. Consider yourself lucky, trust me. I’m stuck with my family forever, literally, and we actually sort of like each other. So, you’re much better off.” He said, smiling brightly and the dark receded ever so slightly.

 “No disrespect, Lord Apollo, but you don't know what you're talking about.” I muttered, turning to look out over the flooded village.

 "Maybe, you humans are strange things to us gods." He shrugged.

 His words rang in my ears and I turned back to him, my temper flaring. "What did you do to me?" I demanded and he took a cautious step back.

 "What?"

 "I was just burned alive. What did you do to me?" I didn't care that he was a god and that I might be offending him.

 "Zeus and Hades, they cursed you. You're forbidden from entering the Underworld when you die." He said softly.

 "Why did it hurt so much?" 

 He flinched slightly. "You had to be unmade."

 "Unmade? What does that mean?”

 "You had to be pulled apart layer by layer to be rewritten the way my father wanted." He explained.

 "So, I'll die but not stay dead?" I asked, feeling my horror rise again.

 "I'm afraid so. And I'm sure you'll find there are some other things you'll be able to do and other things you can't." 

 I blew out a sigh, wiping my face dry. "What about this place? The next people who settle here?" I asked.

 "Nobody will. This place will stay barren for eternity." 

 I glanced back as the water started to recede. "Demeter, I assume?"

 "Yes." 

 I grunted. It seems all the gods had a hand in this. "Terrific."

 “Where will you go?” He asked.

 “Crete, most likely. That's where it's all happening these days. Big city, I can blend in.” I said quietly. He nodded thoughtfully.

 “Good luck.”

 “I’m not supposed to be anyone’s Seer anymore, am I?” I asked. 

 He shook his head. “You’re past the age.” He said apologetically. “That’s not to say you won’t have visions anymore. You need to keep them to yourself. Humanity isn’t supposed to know too much. It’s a punishable crime against the gods.” He said seriously. I snorted and moved to walk past him. “I’m serious, Aryanna.” He warned, grabbing my arm as I passed. I faced him and squared my shoulders, deciding then and there that I was done being afraid. I had just survived being murdered by my parents. If I could come back from that, relatively sane-I had nothing else to fear ever again.

 “What else could the gods possibly do to me? I’m already cursed to live forever.” I said. “What are they going to do? Kill me?” I laughed morosely. “You’re not going to make me stop having visions because that would give me what I wanted in the first place.” I said.

 “There are other things we could do.” He said, trying to sound mysterious. I started laughing even harder.

 “Like take my sight? I would just heal. I was just burned alive, Apollo. I really don’t think there’s much you can do to me.” 

 He was quiet for a long time. “We could make you relive that moment over and over until eternity ends.” He said quietly. I froze, staring at him.

 “You would actually do that to me?” I asked.

 “If you need an incentive to keep what you see quiet, then yes. We would.” 

 I bit my lip and nodded. “Good to know. It’s not like I have anyone to tell anything to, anyways.” I said, backing away from him.

 “Aryanna.” He sighed.

 “You should go. Get back to your family. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on my behalf.” I said quietly, turning and walking into the woods.

 “Be careful, Aryanna.” I heard him whisper before there was a pop and he was gone. I stopped, staring straight ahead of me. I didn’t know what to do now. I have never been on my own before, I had never really even been away from home. I felt myself starting to shake from nerves and uncertainty. I took a second to look back at my home, at everything I knew. 

         The last of the water was receding, fading back into the ocean, leaving behind a ruined town, houses washed away. A broken reminder of what happened, to never make the gods angry. This ghost village would remain here, dead and in pain. A reminder of all the bad things, barren for the rest of eternity. It would never sustain life again, the waters would be empty, the soil ashes.

 A cursed land.

 I bit my lip to force back the tears. I was going to be fine. I didn’t need my parents around yelling at me. I could have my own life and be happy. I took a deep, settling breath and turned back towards the road to move on to something better.

 “I can do this.” I said to myself, taking the first step towards freedom and towards my new life.

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