#my own family is maybe quite guilty of this assimilation

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream IV // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait to confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history

Warnings: Swearing, grief, mourning a relationship, sadness, angst, war/death, mention of strict parents, and fluff

Words: 3.1

A/N: This is a disclaimer: just because the reader and Luke start to get along better and have a date does NOT mean she isn’t grieving her relationship. Whether the love faded or not with Peter that is still a large part of who she was/is or don’t expect her and Luke to fall into a relationship immediately.

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Masterlist

The phantoms had disbanded for the night, leaving Julie alone in her room surrounded by books and Flynn. You’d snuck down to the basement as you had since you arrived in 2020 from a different world. The wardrobe that quite literally changed your life was in the back corner, unassuming for the young girl.

Your e/c eyes pinned to the antique wooden furniture that had traveled from England to America as if fate had guided it. No matter how long time went by you’d never been able to touch the wardrobe, let alone touch remotely close. A part of you feared finding if you could return to Narnia or not.

It was something you kept private from the new people helping you to assimilate back into a life on Earth. The boys often refused to leave you for very long after the traumatic disappearance, even when you urged for space. It had almost been as tricky as negotiating peace with a land boiling with civil unrest.

Alex had taken to holding your hand as you slept for peace in both him and you; he’d noticed the state of sleep you endured. It was fitful and often filled with memories in the form of nightmares. The one from last night reared its head once more.

An intake of breath as you pulled your fingers closed to your cheek. Eyes on the movement before you released the bow. The arrow sailed true into the unsuspecting enemy with a faint whistle as it travelled.

The body dropped, one of many of the battles you had attended since defeating the White Witch. A life was still a life, and taking one was incredibly difficult. You saw it in the eyes of Peter, heard it in Susan’s strained voice, saw it in the way Edmund carried himself, but the most heartbreaking was the feeling of Lucy’s tense shoulders in certain moments.

Edmund and Lucy had been children when the White Witch had reigned and fought. Lucy had been only nine years old when her foot first touched Narnian snow. At that tender age, she’d watched the evil of the world up close. Edmund not that incredibly older. The youngest Pevensie had watched her brother take his last breath. Felt the trauma of Edmund’s gasping as the cordial bled one life-giving drop of liquid.

“I’d like to say it gets better, but it truly doesn’t, Your Majesty.” General Oreius’ announced from his station beside you. It was a lull in the tension building as people got ready for the enemies on the horizon.

Oreius’ addressed you but kept his gaze on the approaching army from an enemy land; the General was gifted in multitasking. He’d stopped to give you a little peace in only the way he knew how to.

“Thank you, Oreius.” You informed the General as he took off into the land ahead, leaving you to hold off the enemy with arrows. The short lapse is a game-changer for you as you run into battle.

Last night’s dream had been a reprieve from the dreams of Peter staring sadly at you curled around Luke. It hadn’t happened, of course, but that didn’t dim the bonfire of emotions you felt for the hazel-eyed guitarist.

You couldn’t quite figure out if you loved Peter the way a wife should love their husband. It wasn’t solely Peter that made you come to the wardrobe frequently. It had to do with the family that became yours when your parents had been shitty.

“Hey.” Julie spoke, stepping up to your side. The first person to have found you in the basement where you had an entirely different life.

“Hi.” You murmured, breaking your stare to meet the lovely teenager who had taken your brother and friends into her home. Even if it hadn’t been a smooth start, the band had grown infinitely closer.

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” Julie softly questioned with soft brown eyes taking in the action you’d known for years. Your fingers brushed a strand of her gorgeous coil hair behind her ear with a gentleness you’d done so with Susan and Lucy.

Julie watched as your eyes saddened, “I don’t know. Mere seconds before I stumbled out of the wardrobe into your home, I was an adult. I had been in my early ’30s reigning beside my husband, and then I was the same sixteen-year-old girl breaking the chains of the Mercer name.”

“You feel guilty you left Alex, Luke and Reggie without answers, but you feel like you’re betraying your new family?” Julie questioned, shifting on her sneakers to stare at the emotional mask you’d developed in Narnia.

“Something like that.” You simply replied, casting one more look at the wardrobe in your haste to leave the basement.

Julie waited until you had left before she opened the wardrobe with a loud creak. Her hands brushed material hanging before her hand met a solid surface. Her face dropped at the physical evidence that Narnia couldn’t be reached from this wardrobe again.

Julie adored you, but she wanted to know how true happiness looked on your pretty features. Even if she had to give up you just so you could be happy, it was worth it, so when you left the basement each visit, she’d check the wardrobe.

It always failed. Not a speck of snow or a call of your royal title. Had Julie not seen you tumble out of the wardrobe, she’d have never believed the story.

“One day.” Julie murmured to the silent wardrobe.

Your foot barely passed the threshold of your attic space when your ’90s friends dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Each wearing a big grin that matched the fake one you plastered on.

“Where’d you go this time?”

“Top of the Hollywood sign.” Reggie piped up, skipping over to distribute a cheesy tourist keychain of the sign. Had it been someone else than Reggie, you would have joked about it, but you never could with the sweet puppy like teenager.

“Thank you.” You told the boy who had taken to grabbing little souvenirs for you. You couldn’t remember when he’d sat beside you, but he’d softly informed you how much he’d missed you. 

In the year following your disappearance, Reggie had built up a collection of trinkets he thought you’d love; he was the one with the most optimism. Even if he believed you’d met an end, that little spark of hope never died. He wouldn’t be Reggie Peters if the hope wasn’t there.

“I wish I knew if my parents kept that box.” Reggie sighed, referring to the trinkets he had collected the year you’d gone missing. You merely squeezed his shoulder in response before catching gazes with Luke.

“Flynn still here?” Alex questioned, pushing himself to sit on the box bench underneath the window. He’d proudly chosen the wear one of the t-shirts Flynn had personalized for the band.

You shrugged, “Dunno. Julie found me.”

Reggie and Luke were oblivious, but Alex knew to the core of his soul where you tended to spend alone time. Alex would see how you’d return with that ache in your eyes more prominent, and your lips quirked down just enough for him to tell. He saw the guilt when you looked at Luke, the way you thumbed your ring.

“Do you want to hang out? Maybe to use Julie’s computer to search for our childhood friends? See if Sarah got valedictorian?” Alex asked, swinging his feet, trying to pull you from your thought which he was successful with.

“Sure.”

Reggie and Luke watched as you and Alex left the attic for some one on one time together, leaving the two.

“I wonder where they’re going?” Reggie questioned, staring after the closed door. His hands pushed into the back pockets of his jeans.

Luke shrugged, “You wanna write a song?”

“Sure! We could-”

“Not��country,” Luke told the bassist, who pouted but followed as his best friend poofed to the garage. 

The two Mercer siblings wandered the streets of Los Angeles, each in their own thoughts but comforted by the odd brush of their arms. For Alex, it felt like the old days when you both snuck out of the house just for some air. To just to leave the tense expectations shoved on their shoulders by their perfectionist parents.

“If I’d never disappeared and you didn’t die, where do you think we’d be?” You mused, thinking of all the what-ifs. Would you have gotten together with Luke? Would Sunset Curve had gone on to do sold-out shows.

“I don’t really know, to be honest. I think if we’d gone on to be successful that Reggie would have a ranch somewhere. He might have even released an EP of country songs. I think you and Luke would be together.” Alex thought with a bittersweet smile.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Where do you think you would be?” You questioned the older Mercer, who simply shrugged, “I like to think you would have been happy. Whether that was with someone, who was worthy of you or just by being yourself. Maybe you would have started a charity or been an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community.”

Your e/c eyes caught the smile growing on your older brother’s mouth, bringing a lightness to your body.

“I don’t think it matters. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. If we had survived, I would have never seen you again.” Alex confessed, “I think we were always meant to meet Julie.”

You went to open your mouth when your eyes found one of the last places you wanted to be. Somehow you and Alex had walked into the area where the country club was sitting just as it was back in the ’90s. From a distance, you could see the unmistakable form of Sarah, the girl in your grade who had always unwillingly competed academically with you. Sarah was just another girl with heavy expectations from her own wealthy parents.

“Is that Sarah?” Alex softly chuckled as the girl, now a woman, holding the hand of her husband with genuine happiness, “She looks happy.”

“She deserves it. The rivalry all our parents had was insane, so I’m happy one of us got the least complicated life.” You informed Alex bumping your hip against his leg as you talked with the pink-loving male.

England, 1940s

Four youth occupied one of the many rooms in the manor that didn’t hold a candle to Cair Paravel grand size and beauty. Not that the four confused siblings spent time taking a gander in the room. Each focused on how they’d lived well into their thirties before regressing back to the ages they were when they stepped into the wardrobe. There were minor changes.

Edmund wasn’t acting like a knob, Susan inserting herself as dominant, and Lucy was quieter than usual. Peter, however, had a boiling rage he could barely contain within himself.

“Do you think Aslan did this?” Susan questioned her siblings. A single tear rolling down her face at the grief she felt.

Each Pevensie was in the beginning stages of grief. They had to grieve the life they had lost in a magical place. A place where the war didn’t ravage like it did to their home country. For the suitors, she’d only just started to seriously look into.

Not a single shred of evidence tied themselves to Narnia.

“Who else?” Peter scoffed, bringing a gasp from Lucy’s mouth. They had all proudly reigned with Aslan in mind. Not a word is spoken against the great lion who’d died for Edmund and came back to life.

“Pet-”

“This is your fault.” Peter told his younger brother with a grimace on his face, “We had everything we ever needed in Narnia. Why did you need to catch that stupid stag?”

Edmund’s eyebrows furrowed, “You make it sound like our lives were perfect. Newsflash, King Peter, but it was far from that. You barely focused on your marriage, let alone Y/N.”

“Edmund.” Susan admonished, glancing between her brothers as if watching a tennis match. The only sister paying attention as Lucy stared out the window at the overcast day.

“It’s true! His marriage was a sham, and he lied to the entire kingdom!” Edmund shouted with a heated glare, “You acted like you were the most important person in Narnia, like the only reason the place worked was because of your hand solely.”

“Shut up,” Peter growled, stepping right up to his little; Edmund had lost a lot of inches, brother with a sneer. Their hair mussed from rubbing against the furs.

“Just because you’re older and you had High in front of your title doesn’t lessen our power too.”

“STOP IT.” Lucy screamed, stomping her foot, “Who cares about that. How about we focus on where Y/N went? She was right with us in there, and then out of nowhere, she’s gone.”

“I know.” Peter’s shoulder dropped in defeat as it settled further into his mind. Not only had he lost the years he’d lived, but he’d also lost you somewhere along the line.

While you’d fallen out of love, or maybe you’d never even been in love with Peter; he’d faithfully kept feelings for you. Part of him had always known your heart was taken by another, but he cherished the times you had together.

“And she’s not in another place right now. She’s somewhere in the far future.” Edmund added with his arms crossed over each other, “She never elaborated on when, where or what the future looks like. How can we find someone that doesn’t exist yet?”

“We hope our future selves can find her.” Susan finished sending a look at each of her siblings, “In the meantime, let’s live our lives for her, so we have tons of stories for her to listen to.”

Molina Household, America 2020

Luke Patterson shook in his black vans, his best pair he owned, holding simple flowers Julie had gotten. Money from busking down at the pier for some cash the boys could have for anything they wanted. They always left money with a note when they got items.

The flowers’ stems were definitely in a battle to survive the grip from the scared teenage ghost. He’d started the day with a tickle in the back of his mind to ask you out. Just a simple date with no strings attached to see where it could go. He couldn’t chicken out when he’d already knocked, and the door was opening.

“Oh! Luke.” You gasped, blinking at the sudden appearance of the phantom. Luke’s eyes melted at the oversized flannel layered over a cropped dark blue sweater.

Your style pre-Narnia and during Narnia had coalesced over the few months you’d found yourself on Earth. Your love of cropped tops returned with a modest twist, the modesty unshakable.

“I know it’s been hard adjusting from Narnia, but I was wondering if you would go on a date with him?” He blurted, dancing on the balls of his vans with an expression of pure nerves.

Your mind flew twenty miles an hour thinking through the implications of accepting a date with this teenager. A dead teenager at that. Sure he was only a year older, but fate had a sick sense of humour. 

“I don-”

“I know in your other world you have a husband. I get that, but there’s something undeniable between us. It’s been there since the ’90s, and we always just pushed it away. I learned over the twenty-six years that life is too short.” Luke pleaded, slowly pushing the pretty bouquet into your arms, “Just one date to see if this is worth pursuing.”

You should have said no, but you couldn’t, “One date.”

Luke mentally pumped his fist in the air in celebration as if he was starring in a John Hughes movie. As if reading his mind, you teasingly thrust your hand in the air, the very same hand coming into Luke’s grip.

“There isn’t a lot that we can do, but Willie knows a guy unaffiliated with Caleb. Well, he knows him through a few guys, but he hooked me up. In this lovely basket, we have a menagerie of food that I can eat.” Luke spoke proudly with that same twinkle he always had with you by his side.

Your lips parted in pure elation. Luke Patterson was taking you out on one of the things that had been on your bucket list. A picnic date, something you and Alex each desired to enjoy.

Luke led you down a few streets to a park notorious for cute dates. Julie stood over a cliche checkered blanket. In her hand was an old iPhone or iPod hooked up to a Bluetooth speaker, a playlist curated of your favourite songs ready to go.

“You remember how to use this?” Julie questioned the teen ghost with one raised eyebrow. Luke nodded in his mission to unpack the food in a form that was as romantic as possible.

Julie nodded before casting a quiet goodbye to the two ’90s teens.

“How’d you know?” You questioned Luke as he poured a glass of the beverage he’d chosen. His ever-changing eyes flicked up to yours with an endearing expression.

Your eyes scanned his messy hair. He had taken the time to meticulously styled for his date with you. He’d chosen that gorgeous purple corduroy long sleeve shirt that turned his hair to melted milk chocolate. He hadn’t done a 180 on his style; he’d never tell you he’d styled his hair off his forehead into what Alex had dubbed the Prince Charming hair.

“1994 in the studio for Alex’s fifteenth birthday. Bobby snuck some alcohol he’d collected from his uncle’s BBQ and his father’s stash. We got drunk for the first time and played truth or dare.” Luke recalled with a smile. 

He remembered how much of lightweights they were and the way his heart fluttered when Alex answered Reggie’s question. He explained how his ideal date was a picnic in a park with either a guy he was seeing or his celebrity crush. He’d mentioned it was something he shared with you, and then all Luke could think about was taking you on a picnic.

“Dealing with Alex’s hungover ass was a nightmare.” You grunted, swiping one of the pieces of watermelon from a container.

“I can only imagine.” Luke chuckled, slowly shifting closer to you with a sandwich in his left hand. His right arm slowly slinked over your shoulders to rest, the movement halting as your shoulders tensed momentarily.

“Were you really gonna confess that night I disappeared?” You asked the guitarist currently focused on the delicious sandwich. It reminded him of his mother packing his lunch every day, even in his high school years despite telling his mom he could do it himself.

���I was. I chickened out.” Luke admitted and had he been alive, his ears could have flushed along with his cheeks. The bashful ghost struggled to meet your gaze, “I had-have this massive crush on you. I’ve had it since you called me your knight in shining armour-”

“When I sliced my knee open, and you carried me home.”

“I’ve never told anyone, but you’re kinda the reason why I started wearing no sleeves. The guys and us were watching a film, and you mentioned something about the actor’s arms.” Luke snickered with a smile that faded at your sheepish grin, “Oh my god, you knew.”

“Bobby let it slip, ‘I watched him cut the sleeves of his shirts, stitch the raw edges of the fabric, prick his fingers a ton, and he nearly broke my foot’”

“Yeah I almost dropped a weight on him.” Luke snorted, shuffling to lay his head to rest on top of yours. He’d quickly learnt in his mission to gain muscle for your attention that he liked the exercise. He continued to get in shape and grow some muscle, but he still wore sleeveless shirts for you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Luke beamed at your words, “Nah, you’re the beautiful one.”

The rest of the date was everything you had ever wished for. Luke went above and beyond your expectations, even as a ghost. He’d packed a sweater to help you into when the night appeared, and the cold came. He held your hand on the way home and walked you straight to your attic door.

Luke didn’t push for a kiss either. He simply raised your clasped hand to press a lingering kiss on the back of your hand.

“Sweet dreams.” Luke murmured before he walked down the stairs. The euphoria ensuring he forget his ability to poof.

He wore the same lovesick expression into the studio where two ghosts waited for all the details. Alex and Reggie each buzzing in anticipation for their guitarist best friend.

In your room, you analyzed your feelings closely.

The guilt wasn’t as suffocating as you’d anticipated after going on a date that wasn’t with Peter. Just the guy that had been a reason your marriage with Peter wasn’t how it should have been. You also knew in your heart that Peter would want you to be happy and move on. In fact, in the last two years of your marriage, things had changed to just being two best friends married. 

Your eyes met the window of your attic bedroom with a small smile. Your right hand slowly sliding the symbol of love from your finger. For the first time in a very long time, your wedding and engagement band left your hand.

“I’ll always love you, Peter Pevensie.” You murmured from your place in front of your dresser. The two rings slid into the old jewellery box where they would stay.

The only signs of your previous relationship status are just memories and a pale line on your ring finger.

Time to move on. Time to accept that Narnia was in the past and not in your future. Time to accept that Luke Patterson always had and always would hold your heart in his hands.

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[olivinesea]

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter eight: starting to rust

a/n: Just barely coming in at under a month, oops. I think I’m going to take a break from this one for now, it seems to be a little too much while my thoughts are occupied with school things. When I planned this all out originally, this chapter was a possible ending point but then I got ambitious and there’s quite a bit more plotted out after this. But it might be a while before I come back to it, we’ll see. Anyway, thanks for coming along for all the torture, I know it wasn’t a pleasant time but the hurt can be nice occasionally? I’ll try to write something a little kinder in the future. Warnings for all the same things —substances, abuse, some very dark thoughts and themes. ~5.7k

Aaron tries to keep it all together but the world is indifferent.

He tried to stay away, he really did. As if he could see into the future, he could imagine how quickly he would tarnish her smile, could picture it fading right in front of him. He had nightmares where Haley sat, unresponsive and slowly dissolving. But she was insistent, seeking him out, towing him along with her through her day. She’d find him at lunch and push half a sandwich at him once she realized he hadn’t brought anything to eat. Brought him along after school to loiter in the sun with the other theater kids killing time between the end of class and the start of rehearsals, loudly asserting their presence on the world. Aaron hung back, uncomfortable around such casual chaos, everyone moving too fast, speaking too loudly. Compared to his world, Haley’s life was bright, unrestrained, and viscerally present. He didn’t fit there. He stuck out in his silence, dressed in his dark clothes, still too big on him though he was finally starting to grow.

The other kids eyed him suspiciously, muttering quietly about him when they thought he couldn’t hear. Only Haley’s position at the top of whatever social apparatus they operated by kept them from outright excluding him. He didn’t mind too much, he’d heard worse, what did he care what these kids thought of him anyway? What did they know with their golden lives, their excitement, their expectations for the future? Haley’s people believed that the world was for them, would provide what they wanted when they wanted. He found it odd, watching them as they screeched and tackled each other, a blur of color so jarring he had to squint.

He could feel how his difference was noted, their eyes making the back of his neck itch. More than once he tried to disappear but every time Haley slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently, pulling him back toward the group. She’d smile, encouraging, her belief that it would all work out, that he could assimilate given enough time, was unwavering. Her optimism baffled him, sometimes even irritated him. He would inevitably feel guilty about that. Surely it was ungrateful for him to find fault in this girl who had welcomed him when there was absolutely no need for her to do so.

Not everyone was tolerant of Aaron’s presence. The drama teacher regarded him with suspicion, allowing him to stay but making it clear that she was doing him a favor. It helped that he was able to sing, shoring up the weak lower register of the female dominated cast. He was given a minor role, nothing too complicated, nothing that would embarrass them if he failed, as she assumed he would. Some of the other kids caught on to this disapproval, emboldened by it they became less subtle in the ways that they mocked him. Aaron tried to mind his own business, even skipping out on rehearsals when the attention became too much. But Haley inevitably found him, running to catch him after school as he tried to escape out a side door. She dragged him back again and again, refusing to give up on him. Insisting she had seen something special, something she thought she could coax out if given enough time—like a stray dog, so used to mistreatment that he bristled when people came near but still craved affection.

He followed reluctantly, acutely conscious of the growing dislike, mutiny thickening the air. Everything was too sharp these days, he’d lost his sources for getting high. All he had were his cigarettes, too afraid to steal alcohol from his father. He desperately wanted to go back into the woods, to fall back under the quiet spell of muffled words about nothing, watching the light filter through the branches, sparkling as the leaves moved with the breeze. He hated it here, in the building, surrounded by these people with their constant need to be heard, each louder than the last. The smells of the theater, new paint and old fabrics and so much dust made it hard to breath. The too bright lights, unnaturally hot against his skin, and the way every sound echoed made his head ache. He’d be long gone if it wasn’t for the way Haley’s touch made his heart skip, her fingers lightly brushing across his arm to get his attention. Or the way she looped her arm through his as she caught him in the hallway and insisted on walking with him to class, leading him along her sheltered path.

Aaron wondered at the lightness of her head rested against his shoulder as they sat in the grass, sticking her tongue out at something stupid another kid said, then smiling when she heard his smothered laughter. He let his attention drift, eyes wandering until he saw a group in the distance. He watched as they moved away from school, easily guessing where they were headed. He felt a pang of longing as he watched them leave, wishing he could still be part of that. He wasn’t sure he had been happy with Cole but he had at least felt like he was in the right place, like he had found someone who understood him. No one here was like him, no one less so than Haley. He was attracted to her in a different way, fascinated at how she viewed the world and how the world viewed her. He’d never known anyone who moved so easily through life, who was loved and desired by everyone she met. He couldn’t begin to imagine what that felt like though he agreed with the rest of them, she was something special. He didn’t understand why she wanted him around but he wasn’t going to contradict her. Still, he wished to be gone with the group as they sought out unobserved spaces.

“Aaron?” Haley squeezed his knee, drawing his attention back.

“Hmm?” He had no idea what she had been saying.

“Do you want to come to Mike’s house after rehearsal tonight? His parents are out of town.”

Aaron looked dubiously across the group at Mike, someone who was clear in his dislike of Aaron.

“Please?”

Aaron shrugged a shoulder, shifting uncomfortably and causing Haley to sit up.

“It’ll be fun. And it’ll be good for you to get to know everyone a little better. You’re so quiet all the time.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Aaron murmured, watching as Mike narrowed his eyes in their direction.

“Don’t be silly,” she said as she hopped up. “C’mon, let’s go inside, it’s almost time.”

He looked up at her, now standing above him. Their eyes met and she smiled. She was pleased with how much he’d been softening. It had only been a few weeks and already he seemed more comfortable, at least with her. She congratulated herself a little, privately, on her success. People had gone out of their way to warn her when she started hanging out with him, bringing him places with her. He was bad, he was dangerous, he would hurt her. But she knew, had known from that first time she saw him looking at her, he wouldn’t hurt her, not ever. He wasn’t so complicated, she reasoned, they were all just scared away by his dark features, his perpetual scowl, the whispered rumors about his family. She, Haley Brooks, was better than that, deeper and more sympathetic. He wouldn’t be the first broken creature she’d healed, but he would be her biggest project yet. She didn’t imagine it could be that hard. Everyone was always happier around her, she could fix this.

He sighed, shaking his head and stood up. Sometimes he could see her watching him and he wasn’t sure he liked the look on her face. Like she was assessing him, marking his progress along some scale she had in her mind. Noting when he ate, when he was rested, when he laughed. He felt a little bit like an animal in a laboratory. But then she would smile at him and he forgot all his hesitation, forgot how he disliked being watched, how much he hated people thinking they knew what he needed. No one had ever cared like her before and he wasn’t sure what she expected in return. But he let himself forget all that and follow her where she led for another chance at that smile, another chance to hear her say his name, sounding so different coming from her lips that it might be a different name entirely.

One of her friends, already halfway back to the building, called Haley’s name and she skipped over to her, confident that Aaron would follow. He watched her go before turning back to pick up his backpack. When he straightened up, Mike was standing very close to him. Aaron wondered at how he’d moved so quickly.

“I hope you don’t think you’re coming to my house, loser.”

Aaron stared at him, debating what to do. He didn’t particularly want to go to this party, he’d really prefer not to go. But Haley had invited him and he didn’t like the way this guy was always looking at her possessively, then looking at Aaron like he’d like to strangle him. Not exactly subtle.

Mike stepped in closer. “Did you hear me? Or are you too high?” He turned to his friends and forced a laugh, “Maybe you shouldn’t have fried your brain with your little homo boyfriend.”

Aaron didn’t think, he just reacted, fist swinging up and punching the other boy in the jaw. He stumbled back, holding a hand to his face, eyes frozen wide in shock. Aaron didn’t pause, only advanced on him, swinging again. It felt good, the anger that was always simmering in his chest, the anger he only barely distracted himself from, finally had an outlet. It probably wasn’t a fair fight, Mike had been expecting Aaron to quietly take the insults as he’d been doing, pretending to ignore them as they needled him whenever Haley was out of earshot. But this insult was too far. More of a mean jab in the dark than an actual accusation, his words had hit a nerve and unlocked a force within Aaron.

Once he landed the first punch, his vision clouded over with anger and he continued to swing at the other kid. The other boys quickly jumped in, once the surprise of seeing Aaron actually fight back wore off, once they realized he meant to do real harm to their friend. He already had Mike pinned on the ground, lip bleeding, hands covering his face, before two more of his friends managed to drag Aaron off. He swung at them too, no technique but plenty of experience on the receiving end. He knew what would hurt and he had enough rage to power him through a dozen opponents. One of the others pulled him off balance, using his grip on Aaron’s wrist to fling him to the side. They blocked his path to Mike, who was scrambling backward on the grass, putting more distance between himself and this suddenly rabid opponent. Breathing hard, Aaron glared at the group, realizing he didn’t have enough strength to overpower them all, despite his murderous desire. He spit in their direction, then grabbed his bag and stalked away.

He didn’t have to think about where he was going. There was only one place to go. He’d tried to be a part of the regular world, a part of a world where time continued evenly, where lights turned on when it was dark and spotlights burned brightest on those with merit. He’d tried to fit himself into that space for Haley’s sake but he had only been fooling himself. They’d known he didn’t belong and he’d finally overstayed his welcome. It was time for him to retreat to the unlit corners of the world, return to the margins of society where people could avert their eyes, where it was easier for them to pretend they didn’t see the wrongness of the boy in front of them. He’d go back to the place in the woods and hope there was someone there that could give him what he wanted, could help him disconnect from this too bright reality. He was as sick of it as they were of him. He allowed himself a brief flicker of hope that he might find Cole out there, with his understanding and their shared history he didn’t have to think about his walls so much. But he stomped down hard on that desire, reminding himself how he had still ended up alone. No, it didn’t need to be Cole, it didn’t need to be anyone in particular, as long as they had something to get him high he didn’t care. It wouldn’t matter for very long anyway.

He crashed across the grass, his anger making his steps heavier, his thoughts louder. He didn’t realize he was being followed, that someone was calling his name. He didn’t notice until there was a hand tugging at the elbow of his jacket. He spun around fast, ready to fight. Haley shrank back at the anger in his face, the wildness in his eyes. He clenched his fists when he recognized her, trying and failing to pull back the storm of emotion that had been knocked loose. He never wanted to scare her but she was following where she didn’t belong. He only had so much control.

“Go away.”

“Are you hurt? Where are you going? Why’d you attack—”

She didn’t even have the question fully formed before he turned and started walking again, unwilling to be accused of something that wasn’t remotely his fault. He didn’t like the way it stung him, hearing that she assumed his guilt. He didn’t like that he’d let her get so close, let her have such influence over him. She ran a little to get ahead of him, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She was frightened by his fury, but she wouldn’t let him go this easily. Not after she’d spent so many hours persuading him to join her world.

“Aaron.”

He stopped short when he heard his name, looked at her with some of his anger melting into sadness, feeling betrayed even though he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

“I didn’t start it,” he could barely get the words out, hated how much he wanted her to believe him, hated that he had to explain himself.

She rubbed her face, trying to think as she pressed her palm against her lips. She found she was more frightened of this new emotion than she was of the anger. He looked so hopeless.

“I’m sorry, I just…” she didn’t know what to say now that she’d gotten him to stop, now that she could see past the heated front of anger and could see some of the broken edges he did so much to hide. Wasn’t this what she’d been asking for?

He watched her struggle with what to say, saw the moment the pity started to creep into her eyes. Before she could say anything else, before she could make him feel worse, he started walking again, pushing past her. “Just leave me alone,” he muttered. He didn’t bother to check if she followed.

When he reached the clearing it was empty except for one person stretched out on a broken down couch. At first all he could see was the back of their head, the dirty blond hair sticking up in places. The recognition was a visceral feeling, clawing through his chest. He almost couldn’t believe it was real, that he was getting exactly what he hoped for. Cole sat up when he heard Aaron’s heavy footsteps cracking through the dead leaves and sticks littering the ground. He remained seated, looking at Aaron idly, as if no time had passed, as if he’d only been waiting for Aaron to turn up after class. Aaron felt so many conflicting emotions, had so many things he wanted to say that he could only stand with his jaw clenched against the flood of words he knew he would regret. Cole twitched the corner of his mouth in a slightly mocking smile and Aaron snapped. He grabbed Cole by the collar, pulling him to his feet, unsure whether he meant to strangle him or kiss him. Cole’s gaze shifted to look behind him.

“Why’d you bring your girlfriend with you?”

Too caught up in the charge of the moment, Aaron didn’t understand what he was talking about. Cole pulled away and lifted his chin in the direction he was facing. Aaron turned and saw Haley. She’d continued to follow him, concerned about what he was planning on doing, haunted by the hollowed out look in his eyes. She stood, apprehensive, eyes darting between the two.

He scowled. “Go back to school Haley.”

“But—are you okay?” She stumbled over her words, staring openly at Cole. She’d seen him in the distance, even noticed how Aaron sometimes watched him when their paths crossed. He looked even more menacing up close.

“I’m fine.” His mouth pressed together, biting his lower lip to keep his composure. He didn’t understand why she was being so persistent, why she wouldn’t just go away like everyone else. When she still hesitated he got impatient. There were things he needed to handle and he didn’t need her here getting in the way. He waved his hand at her, brushing away her attention. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

From behind him Cole fluttered his fingers at her with false sweetness. She hated the way he was grinning at her, his obvious confidence that he was the one in charge of the situation. She glared at him and he laughed.

She looked one more time at Aaron, who was no longer paying attention to her, had turned back to Cole entirely. She shook her head. Fine, if he wanted this it was hardly her problem.  What did she even know of his life anyway? Trying not to feel like she’d lost, she retraced the path back to school.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Aaron started in on Cole. His thoughts were disorganized and barely coherent but he’d spent weeks trying to understand the sudden distance. He needed Cole to explain, to know his reasons for turning on him so quickly after all that they’d shared.

“What the fuck—” He hadn’t finished his question before Cole clamped his hand over his mouth.

“Shut up.”

Their eyes met and there was a mental struggle for the upper hand. One thing that had changed in the past few weeks was Aaron’s strength. No longer constantly submerged in a haze of intoxication, he felt everything more pointedly and he was ready to direct that pain elsewhere. He wanted to bite Cole, to scratch at his face, to scream at him for way he’d been abandoned, the sickness and shame he’d had to endure on his own. But the warmth of Cole’s palm, the familiar smell of his skin, the muscle memory of being in this exact position was too much. He relented almost instantly, sinking into the couch, pulling his knees up against his chest and waiting to see what Cole would do next.

Cole watched him thoughtfully, interested by this new spark of resistance but also pleased that he hadn’t made it too far on his own. A little fight kept things interesting, staved off the boredom Cole so often felt. It was probably that girl he’d been with, giving him ideas. He could see he’d have to do some damage control to bring Aaron back completely.

“I’m sorry,” he looked down, measuring drops of sincerity. “My grandma, she saw…she said she was going to report you.”

Aaron was confused, he didn’t know exactly what she could report about him but he heard the edge in Cole’s voice, knew better than to dig deeper. Cole sat down beside him, pulling one of his hands loose from where he’d wrapped it tightly around his legs. He traced Aaron’s palm with his thumb, looking into his face again.

“You know I didn’t mean it right? I didn’t have a choice.”

Aaron recoiled, sickened by the number of times those words had echoed through his life. Worse though was how easily he was willing to give into them if it only meant he could have back a little of that warmth he had found. He ducked his head and shrugged.

Cole squeezed his hand. “Good, cause I think I’ve got something you’ll like.” He let go and dug around in the couch cushions, pulling out a crumpled paper bag. When he smiled at Aaron, that familiar greedy smile, Aaron admitted to himself that he wasn’t here to fight with Cole, that he had never been coming for that. This was all he wanted, was all he was good for: to be lied to and to be led astray. He didn’t mind as long as he didn’t have to be fully present for it. He sat up a little straighter.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

They fell back in with one another but it remained uneasy. Aaron was still not allowed back at Cole’s house and he was afraid to miss too much class. Lately his father had been grumbling about sending him away and he wasn’t entirely sure he meant away to live somewhere else or away from life entirely. There were no peaceful interactions between them, only lucky days where Aaron successfully avoided being seen. A sudden increase in truancy calls would not work out well for him. If he had been a little more mature, a little less caught up in his own teenage drama, he might have noticed the changes in his father’s face, the way the lines grew deeper as his frame grew thinner. As it was he only noticed as much as he needed to know to keep himself out of the direct path of destruction. He once might have cared to notice his mother crying more, even when his father wasn’t there to be the cause of it but he was long past feeling any sort of connection to her. If she was troubled, she could find someone else to support her. She certainly hadn’t done anything to help him all these years. Nothing that he could see.

At school Haley continued to pester him. She stood up for him against the accusations that he had attacked Matt for no reason so he was still allowed at play rehearsals. He went grudgingly, only because he couldn’t shake the way he felt bewitched by Haley. Now he tried even harder to stay out of any social situations, to keep things strictly professional with the group of theater kids. However, he couldn’t help but enjoy Haley’s company at lunch and in between classes. Much as Aaron had disliked her friends, he couldn’t resist the brilliance of her personality. She made him feel like being a whole person was possible, made him forget for a few moments what he really was. She may have made him a little uncomfortable but she was relentlessly kind, and he was more than expert at keeping things hidden so he let her think she was doing some good as she badgered him into eating more and forced him to study. Even if it was only pretend, they were both getting something from it.

Only after the school day was over would he would slink away to the woods where he’d meet Cole. Cole still wasn’t speaking to him on campus, too aware of how their obvious closeness before had been risky. He hadn’t changed in their time apart either, his mood still swinging wildly from affection to disgust. It didn’t feel great but Aaron needed him, needed what Cole could give him. Attention and a steady supply of drugs. He didn’t have to worry about his insufficiencies around Cole, they were too similar for him to care about hiding the difficult parts of his life, didn’t have to worry about being pitied, about someone trying to fix him. They’d dragged more furniture into the abandoned shed, found an old metal trashcan they could burn things in to warm the place as the months crept deeper into the dark end of the year.

By the time Aaron’s sixteenth birthday came and went he felt like he was leading a completely fractured life. At home he was a ghost at best, a target when not; with Haley a treasured curiosity, constantly examined and prodded into a more acceptable shape; and with Cole, he was himself, angry and violent but self-medicated to the point where none of it mattered. Any gentleness that had existed between them over the summer was gone, every interaction was rough and scrambling, followed by a shame that only dissipated once the high kicked in.

It became harder to hold all the pieces together. He would look at himself in the mirror and struggle to remember his own name. He started smoking pot during the day again, just to ease some of the jarring transitions. At lunch, Haley talked and talked and he wouldn’t notice when she asked him a question until she poked him in the bicep and he jumped like a startled cat. When she tried to ask him about it he got annoyed, snapping at her and walking away from school, not caring that it was the middle of the day and that this bad choice was sure to come back to him that evening.

The show opening got closer as he missed more rehearsals. He missed so many that he didn’t know what he should be doing when he was there, very obviously sticking out when he went one way while the rest of the corps moved in the other direction. The drama teacher pulled him aside, giving him an ultimatum that he needed to be present at every subsequent rehearsal or he would be cut. Not so secretly hoping this would be enough to get him to leave. He started to say he didn’t give a shit about her stupid play when he saw Haley anxiously watching their conversation and swallowed his insults, only nodding, looking away so the teacher wouldn’t see his contempt for someone who could think something like a high school play mattered at all.

He made it to all the rehearsals but he was sure to be high, not enough that he would be caught but enough to be clear that it didn’t matter to him if he did. He wasn’t sure why he continued to come, why Haley had such a pull on him. It didn’t make sense that he wanted so badly to make her happy when she was so different, so far removed from everything else in his life. Maybe it was that he knew that without her, there was nothing tying him to the regular world, the place of school and society and jobs and futures. She was the only person that seemed to care if he was around, an emotion he was long past feeling for himself. She was the last reminder that he was a human being, that he mattered to someone. It was the only thing standing between him and completely giving in to the destructive force that had been whispering promises of an easy solution to his problems.

It was just enough to keep him behaved around these people who hated him without knowing anything about him. They hated what he represented, hated the way he forced them to see that the world could be ugly and painful. They were offended that he dared to show himself among the normal people when he so clearly belonged to the underside. He kept quiet and kept close to Haley when he was at school, when he was in the theater. He wore the stupid costume, the silly hat, followed the directions barked at him, sang just loud enough to carry the rest. Then he slipped away as soon as he was able.

The week of the opening performance was a bad one. Cole, having recently gotten his hands on some speed, was off on a manic high. Aaron had tried it once but hated the way the uppers spiked his anxiety, the way he felt every eye on him like his skin had turned inside out. After that first time he had declined, preferring to find oblivion in whatever downers were available. But Cole liked it quite a bit. It made his already unpredictable nature even worse, even more dangerous. He’d spend these highs running all over town, breaking car windows for fun, stealing anything worth a couple dollars. Aaron hated it and did his best to hide from him while he was strung out like that.

The afternoon of the show’s opening he’d gone to an old, private hiding spot after school with the intention of getting so stoned he couldn’t feel anything that might come his way later. He succeeded only to remember belatedly what day it was. Haley had tried to remind him several times during the day but he’d been too high, too distracted to listen. Swearing, he ran back to school, not sure what time it was or what time he was supposed to have been there.

The house lights were already off, the audience quiet as the opening bars played. He raced to get into his costume, having to re-button his shirt more than once as the tiny objects refused to line up properly. He gripped his hat as he stumbled into the wings to the sound of the chorus coming in—the chorus he was supposed to be a part of. He thought he could probably just slide onto the end of the line without attracting too much attention. Unfortunately, he found his path blocked by the drama teacher, her face dark and angry, completely out of patience for this mess of a teenager. She stared at him, his eyes red and glassy, skin pale, insultingly obvious in his intoxication.

“No.”

He looked at her unfazed, barely registering her as more than an object to move around. When he tried to step past her, she blocked him again.

“Go home Aaron,” her voice was quiet but unfriendly.

He shook his head, “I’m going to miss my cue.”

She frowned, surprised that he was aware enough to even know when his part was. “You’re high, you can’t be on school property.”

Aaron glanced into her face now, paying attention. No teacher had ever mentioned being able to tell he was not sober before.

“If you don’t leave now, I will call the police.”

He stepped back, narrowing his eyes, gauging how serious she was, if she would really draw that much attention to the situation. Her expression didn’t change and he could tell she meant it. He looked past her once more, seeing Haley step forward into the spotlight to begin her solo. His heart twisted, thinking about how disappointed she’d be that he couldn’t make this happen for her. He’d tried, tried so hard to keep it together for this. She’d been so excited and even though he couldn’t feel any of that, he liked the way it lit up her face when she talked about the performance, about how her parents and her sister would be in the audience, about how she wanted them to meet him. He’d never planned on staying for that but he’d wanted to at least be part of the show, to at least give her that.

“Now, Hotchner,” she insisted, voice cold and unsympathetic. He shrugged and tossed the hat on the ground by her feet before turning and walking out.

He headed straight for the shed, knowing there were supplies there that he had slowly siphoned away when Cole was too high to notice. He’d been saving them, watching his little stockpile grow larger. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was saving it for, exactly what his intention was but now seemed as good a time as any to find out. He hoped Cole wasn’t there, at least not until he could get his fix. Nothing would matter then.

Once inside he turned on the camp lantern he’d stolen and climbed onto a rickety chair to reach the seam between the roof and the wall. He pulled out his supplies, examining them as he settled back down on the dirty old cushions on the floor and wrapped a blanket around himself. It was an old army surplus thing, scratchy and smelling of smoke but effective against the chill. He considered his options. There was a good amount in there, probably enough for two people if he waited for Cole to turn up. He could maybe ease him out of his frenzy, bring him down to Aaron’s level, to the place where they could float through time without moving, without worrying. He thought about the last time he’d seen him, the way his eyes had moved past him without any real recognition. He thought about the dark purple bruises on his wrist where Cole had grabbed him, twisting his arm and insisting Aaron give him whatever money he had.

Fuck him, he decided.

Cole would probably be angry if he came here and found Aaron high without him, would be suspicious of how that had come to be. He would probably regret not leaving any for him but just at that moment he didn’t care. Hurt and love and shame and desire were all the same to him, all more than he wanted to feel. He just wanted to feel nothing. He set himself up quickly, well practiced and sure of his movements. He glanced around the shed once, really seeing his surroundings, seeing how far he had sunk and he laughed as he pressed the plunger down. Anyone who heard him would have been alarmed, the sound more like an animal caught in a trap than an expression of human joy. His last thought as he sank back into the ground was that it really was too much for one person. Too much to be doing alone. Then he got what he wanted and everything was just black.

[ofaylin]

⌠ BAHAR SAHIN, 19 CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, AYLIN KALELI! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in LINGUISTICS, CULTURE, & ASSIMILATION; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (hair pulled back with a chanel ribbon, lycra boots with razor blades in the heel, champagne and french macarons in a bubble bath, wiping your tears with a $100 bill). when it’s the (leo)’s birthday on 8/3/00 they always request their FRENCH FRIES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. 

hi, hello, i’ve been sitting on this idea for a while and i was going to wait until june but with all these new characters i just got too excited ?! so, fuck it, i’m here now, i can’t help myself. for plots, feel free to message me here on tumblr or hmu on discord @ #kati7600, but check out her intro below the cut ! // ty @gallagherintro​

INSPIRATION.

bex baxter – gallagher girls

carmen cortez – spy kids

blair waldorf – gossip girl

cher horowitz – clueless

torrance shipman – bring it on

jackie burkhart – that 70s show

BACKGROUND.

both of her parents work for the national intelligence organization of turkey, they’re big shots and they make a lot of money! she has two older sisters and she’s born into a world of wealth and expectations. it won’t take her long to learn more languages than years she has lived, and waking up early to run drills and do obstacle courses with her sisters is routine.

picture perfect on the outside, the household within goes through turmoil. her mother is promoted to the director of the NIO and it puts a strain on her parent’s relationship. her father starts taking more business trips, and aylin and her sisters spend nights sitting on the top of the stairs, listening in on phone conversations. aylin’s the youngest, so she doesn’t really understand what’s going on and needs to have it broken down. 

aylin had always LOVED her parent’s love story – they met on a mission and they were partners for years, it’s all very romantic. so the divorce leaves her confused. how could you stop loving someone? how could you just give up?

both of her parents are an active part of her life, the divorce is...fairly amicable and they share custody. the only thing aylin doesn’t like is her father’s new girlfriend, young and totally uninvolved in the world of espionage. the girl could be her sister. aylin spends her time split between two houses, half-belonging to each, but her parents feel GUILTY so aylin quickly learns how to use that guilt to get what she wants, whether it’s freedom or material goods. 

she’s a little spoiled, but it doesn’t satisfy her. nothing really does, it just makes her feel sort of empty, so she works harder, filling time with books and training with her older sisters who tell her cool stories from their spy prep schools and teach aylin things they’ve learned when they come home for breaks. aylin long for the day when she’s not splitting your time between other people’s homes and she’s in a place that she can really call her own.

she goes to the same spy prep school that her older sisters did in london. she’s competitive from the get-go because she’s a kelali and people already expect things from her to begin with. she smiles when people call her by her sister’s name or mention her mother, but inside she’s seething, eager to prove that she’s good because she works hard, not because she’s someone’s sister or daughter.

it’d be a lie to say that aylin didn’t step on a few toes, and the way she skyrocket to valedictorian is a little less than savory – she reports her competition for illicit activities, and...perhaps she planted something in their locker idk!!! 

she has her pick of spy prep colleges across the nation, but her mom really encourages her to choose gallagher. why? that’s weird, her mom never went there and neither does the rest of her family! but aylin really likes the idea of a place that’s all hers and she’s always wanted to see america, so she chooses it. she’s a bit smug about being ahead of others because she’s been reading books on espionage since age 4, and if you don’t know sixteen languages, stay out of her way. 

PERSONALITY:

PROUD. aylin is a very proud person, she grew up in an affluent household with important parents. when faced with a challenge, it’s her pride that tends to motivate her to be the best because she feels like she has something to prove, and she’ll turn her nose up at you until she gets it. this also makes her stubborn.

INTELLIGENT. aylin was raised in an environment where she was being trained since her childhood, knowing about espionage since she could speak, but she also has an iq of 122, so not quite genius level but she’s getting there. she’s the head cheerleader type that you’d be surprised is actually really good at math.

HARD-WORKING. queen of taking on too many extracurriculars at all times! honestly she tends to overexert herself until she burns out, but she wants it all – the exciting social life, the straight As, the meaningful connections, the parties, when does she sleep? maybe never.

SNOBBISH. honestly, she doesn’t mean to come off as a snob but she definitely does because she hasn’t really known anything other than crystal dishware and fancy clothes. she doesn’t even comprehend that other people don’t come from the same place of privilege that she has.

FUN-LOVING. the girl you want to party with! just because she’s a good student, she wouldn’t want you to think that she doesn’t know how to have a good time. aylin operates in extremes, so she parties just as hard as she studies and has a tendency to get carried away, but let it be known that she’s doing this for herself and not for anyone else’s attention.

MANIPULATIVE. aylin will step on toes to get what she wants, and she’s not scared to fight dirty. she tends to stay in the lines of what’s legal of course, but if she sees a window into getting what she wants, she’ll say what she needs to in order to get it. honestly, she can be a bit callous with the way she uses people and doesn’t always understand the effects of her actions. she would tell you that the ends justify the means. yikes.

INDEPENDENT. doesn’t need you or anyone else and wants you to know it. her confidence is genuine and real, and she doesn’t attribute any of her accomplishments to her family name – she’s not insecure about it, she knows that she’s good at what she does.  

HEADCANONS.

started school early, so she’s a bit young for her grade by a year. she sees this as a positive thing and will brag to you about how she’s younger AND smarter. annoying.

acts like she really likes healthy food and eats a salad in public ( will tell you that’s her favorite food ) but she’s weak for things that are greasy and fried and will be pigging out in secret. her favorite food is french fries but you probably wouldn’t guess that about her ! 

languages she knows: english, french, turkish, arabic, german, kurmanji, italian, dutch, spanish, mandarin, japanese, latin, hindustani, malay, russian, bengali. some are better than others and some she reads more than she can really speak. 

taught herself to skateboard since coming to america since it seemed like the thing to do based on watching american films. she will ride her little penny board in high heels and loves it ! and you thought i couldn’t make her more annoying !

tons of expensive lingerie but u can look but don’t touch. 

bisexual but still not interested in you. 

leo with a virgo rising and cancer moon. i am so SORRY ! 

WANTED CONNECTIONS. 

SERENA TO HER BLAIR. literally her best friend ever, but they probably have a sort of on-off friendship because they’re strong personalities and get in each other’s business. however, when it comes down to it, they’ll always put the other first and they love each other immensely, would kill a man for the other. but they’re also pretty competitive too. 

GIRL SQUAD. i just want her to have a couple close girl friends that are all close...you know. i would love if one of them was more subdued and totally chill about everything, maybe a wallflower type, and then another that’s kind of nerdy ? but also cool, you know. i’m just dreaming. 

EX/BESTIE. aylin and this person used to date like forever ago, but mutually decided that they made better friends than romantic partners. they care about each other a lot, and they probably make jokes about how they USED to date. a healthy ex connection basically !

ON/OFF THING. because for every healthy ex i also want something kind of toxic. essentially it’s not good for either of them and they just keep going back to each other because, well, it’s a place of comfort or whatever. they drive each other fucking crazy though and no one can keep up with whether they hate each other’s guts today or if they’re all heart eyes.

SWORN ENEMY. but for a justified reason, like aylin probably screwed them over for something academic or even in a campus club or something. if your character went to a spy prep school, maybe they’re the person that aylin screwed out of the valedictorian role ? might submit a WC for that cause. fun.  

PROJECT. like my fair lady, be aylin’s eliza doolittle, let her she’s the man you, whatever. essentially, your character might by shy, nervous, or new to the spy world and aylin wants to give them a metaphoric ( or maybe even physical ! ) makeover and help them get acclimated, teach them the ways of the world. i’m also picturing that pic of the lesbians, u know what i mean. i can’t find it, but i google searched “girl doing the other girls makeup, gay” 

FORBIDDEN FRIENDSHIPS/LOVE. idk something totally not allowed. if this was sooner i’d want her ass to have a crush on a witness protection kid. however, her parents work for the turkish NIO, so perhaps your muse’s parents or family have been involved in something rivaling that so they’re not supposed to get along. 

MARRIED COUPLE FRIENDS. these are friends that are so close that they’re practically a married couple?? i’d love to do a platonic m/f thing with this, where they fight and get on to each other like they’re married but love each other like it too. lil grandparents of their friend group.

CRUSHER. someone who has a crush on her, probably because they’re fascinated with the idea of her and not her true problematic self. she’d probably be kinda rude to them and i’d love to plot this out long enough for that crush to turn to dislike once they recognize the selfish parts of her or notice she’s been making fun of them. maybe a flipped scenario.

ONE NIGHT STAND. maybe after a few too many drinks, they hooked up. something recent so we can make it super awkward and potentially funny. 

SET-UP. your character’s parents are close friend’s with aylin’s and they’re trying to set aylin up with your character. aylin and your character are NOT compatible at all and it’s hilarious. 

OVERSEAS. they met while they were both abroad together one summer, and they accidentally got into some trouble with international police maybe just for being too drunk on the streets or acting stupid, climbing stuff. aylin considers your character a liability and has avoided them since, disregarding the fun times they had.

RIVALS/ENEMIES WITH SEXUAL TENSION.

EXISTING CONNECTIONS.

NAZ FARHI. her cousin. the two of them don’t NOT get along...but aylin really thought she would come to a school and be the only one of her family members there and then naz showed up ! determined to make it clear that she’s the best. 

JO TRAN. rival/dislike. took one of the upper-level courses because she could and her attitude got on jo’s nerves because what doesn’t get on jo’s nerves. aylin’s just the epitome of everything that pisses jo off. 

KASSANDRA SUTTON. bad friend to. one of those friendships where one person takes more than they give, and it’s not ON PURPOSE, but kass is really just so easy to take advantage of, aylin’s ALWAYS running to her when she needs a favor. 

[eamesandbellamyaremyheaven]

Heart of Novocaine Ch1|| Jax Teller x Sansa Stark (SoA/GoT)

Sons of Anarchy x Game of Thrones AU (set before the show)

Warnings: none for now, but there will be violence and smut in the future - with SAMCRO what do you expect? 😜 

Summary: After loosing her mother and elder brother in an accident, Sansa takes her younger siblings and moves in with Jon, who lives in Charming, to start anew, amidst from and the suffering and heartache from the past. But can she adapt to Jon’s dangerous lifestyle? And what if her “past” comes looking for her? And for how long will she be able to abstain herself from the alluring advances of Jax?

Chapter One - Far from Home

Sansa raised her head to the skies, and closed her eyes. It was a grim day, as it was past midday and the sun wouldn’t shine through the dark heavy clouds, and the cold breeze puncture through her skin, her blood, her bones. It was a grim day, for grim matters.

Sansa looked to her left, where Arya stood. Arya raised her head, giving her a simple tight-lipped smile, an understanding smile, and took her hand in hers, squeezing gently. When Arya adverted her gaze, Sansa looked to her left, where her brothers where. Jon’s shoulder brushed against her arm, as he was now smaller than her a few inches. He’d taken hold of Rickon by his shoulder, pulling the youngest of the pack closer to him. Bran stood by their side, is face void of any emotion.

All dressed in black, two graves freshly dug and filled in front of them.

A drunken driver. A car crash. A massacre. No survivors. That’s how she was told she had lost her mother and brother Robb, less than a year after loosing her father.

The world was cruel to the Starks, it had always been. But as long as the family stood together, as a unit, they could endure all the obstacles that were thrown at them. That’s what Ned used to say. And when he died, leaving them stripped from their shield, Catlyn and Robb joined forces and ran the company her father had built, a company that was facing serious difficulties. Now, with them gone, her only solution was to sell all of their belongings in order to pay the dept, and sell the company. She couldn’t run it without Robb, anyway. And she couldn’t take care of her siblings alone, so Jon had offered her to move in with him, and she had accepted it.

So, in the two weeks that passed since her mother and brother’s death, Jon had stayed behind to found them a place that would be fit for all of them, leaving Sansa to deal, alone, with the funeral and the legal bureaucracies that involved selling all of her family legacy. In between packing what was left, finishing paperwork and signing deals, Sansa barely had any time to assimilate what was happening, as she was running in auto-pilot and coffee.

“We need to go now if we want to get there before dark” Jon said, facing her, to which Sansa simply nodded. The ride to Charming was long, and since Jon brought his bike Sansa would be the one driving the car down to California.

*~*~*~*

Sansa let her last bag fall into the floor in a thud, taking in her surroundings for the first time since they started unloading. The mid-century house Jon had rented for them was in good conditions, but it was outdated. The furniture was old, dark and sturdy, and every room had colors and patterns that didn’t quite match one another. Not to mention that in the two weeks that Jon had already stayed there, he made a mess of it, with empty beer bottles and take out boxes scattered through the living room’s every surface, and as she reached through the dark-green linen couch pillows, she pulled out a lacy hot pink thong, which she immediately threw away, grunting in disgust.

“Eww, Jon!” She rubbed her hand fast on her jeans, as Jon simply chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable with her discovery

“Me and the boys had a party last night, won’t happen again” he said, apologetic, as she raised her brow, looking at him clearly annoyed

The boys. Jon left the Starks household when he was 14, and moved in with his mother to Charming, California. There he apparently made friends with a group of 16 year-old wanna-be bikers, whom she couldn’t remember the names, and as they finished high school they joined the town’s biker club, Sons of Anarchy. Now, Jon worked in the auto shop that belonged to the president of the club, and the group spent most of their waking hours together, either working or partying.

“This place’s a shithole” Arya stated, as she walked through them with two duffle bags thrown over her shoulders

“Arya!” Sansa scolded, her stare firm but stern “It has potential, maybe we can make it better over time. New furniture, a fresh coat of paint, the boys can take care of the front yard-”

“Don’t count on it, sis” Rickon replied as he passed them by, his eyes glued on his phone, as Bran simply shrugged, too busy carrying an heavy box of books to even dignify them with a spoken answer.

Sansa grabbed a black trash bag and started to pick up the empty bottles that were spread all over the place, the mess all around her was starting to make her feel anxious.

“So, what’s for dinner?” she asked Jon, but as she looked to him she noticed he was on the phone. He hung up, and smiled weakly at her with guilty eyes, as he tapped his phone against his hand, a nervous tic he had since she could remember.

“Jax called, they need me in the club”

If Sansa could shoot daggers with her eyes, Jon would be dead on the stop. He moved closer to her before she could start screaming at him, and he held her steady by her shoulders, speaking low so that the younglings could not hear them.

“It’ll only be for a couple hours, I swear, he wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important”

Sansa sighed “I need you too. We need you. Things have to change, Jon. What happens when I get a job?”

“Speaking of which” Jon shot her one of his rare, mischievous grins, making her instantly roll her eyes “Gemma wants to hire someone to help with the shop paperwork, and I told them of your degree, so Jax said if you want the job, it’s yours”

Sansa felt herself calming down, and she smiled gently at her brother “You got me a job?”

“Well, technically, Jax did, I just suggested your name” Jon said, as he grabbed his kutte and slipped it on. “So, don’t forget to thank your new boss when you see him tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“I sure will, biker boy” Sansa teased jokingly

“I’m gonna regret this, ain’t I?” he asked, exasperated, as he ran his hand through his thick black curls, and Sansa couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction to her provocation. He was more alike Robb than she’d ever expected.

“Calm down Jon, unlike Margaery, I don’t have a bikers fetish”

Jon first made a disgusted face, but then her words sunk in and he raised his eyebrow, curious “Margaery has a what!?”

“Ugh, just leave already!” Sansa said, faking annoyance, as she pushed him out the door and closed it quickly behind him, smiling as she went back into cleaning the house. 

*~*~*~*

Sansa set the car into parking, coming to an halt. She looked at her watch, noticing it marked a quarter to nine. She’d arrived early, but there was people walking around the garage already, so she exited the vehicle, old metal screeching as she opened the door.

As she came closer to the shop she could feel all those curious eyes glancing at her, gruff-looking men twice her age wondering her up and down.

“Hello, sweetheart” one of them shouted, a younger man with a short mohawk and a devilish smile, as the rest of them laugh. Sansa raised her perfectly trimmed brow at him, defiantly, and instead of ignore him or scold him, like she would do, she pulled out a Marge card, and shot the men the most sweet - yet provoking - smile she could muster as she opened the entrance door.

“Good morning to you too” she said, sliding through the door as it closed behind her, fully aware of the slack-jawed men she left behind

There was a woman behind the counter, eyes scanning through some receipts as she expertly moved them in between her fingers, using the other hand to bring a cigarette up to her lips, inhaling deeply, her bony cheeks hollowing as she raised her eyes towards Sansa.

Sansa closed the distance and raised her hand at the older woman “Hi, I’m Sansa, Jon’s sister. I’m here for the accounting job...?”

The woman didn’t move. She looked her up and down, as she puffed out the smoke, taking in her’s features, and in that moment Sansa was glad she’d opted for a simple black shirt, jeans and sneakers. The woman’s lips curled upwards, and she nodded as she dropped the papers and reached for her hand “Gemma”

Sansa smiled gently to her new boss, and the woman waved to her to follow. Gemma was lean and tall, and she looked all the way what she’d imagined a biker’s wife would look like. Long, styled hair, tattoos on her exposed chest, a cleavage that left barely nothing to the imagination, leather pants with an adorned buckled belt and high heel boots. She looked like a Van Halen groupie.

“You don’t look like Jon” Gemma remarked, and Sansa chuckled

“Yeah, I hear that a lot. I look a lot like my mom...” Sansa voice dropped, as she felt her heart clenched at the thought of her mother, hauntingly beautiful, now six-feet under. Gemma turned around, facing her with a compassionate smile.

“She must’ve been a beautiful woman, then”

“And pretty badass, too” Sansa added, thinking of how Catlyn would rule the house with an iron fist

“I hope you have some of that in you, ‘cause these boys can be pretty handful” Gemma said, as she pushed the door open, leading Sansa inside an office. Sansa furrowed her eyes, confused, and Gemma explained “In here, we mix family and business, and we take care of our own. You’ll see that soon enough, but for now, let’s concentrate in cleaning this mess”

*~*~*~*

Jax rushed towards the shop’s office, looking for Gemma, his self-assured throttle a sign of his good mood.

“Hey Ma-”

“She’s not here” an unknown voice called from inside the office, before he turned the corner and entered the room. He froze under the door arch, unable to move forward, or leave. 

Jax knew Jon’s sister was the new employee, hell, he was the one that came up with that idea, but for the past couple days she had been working there, he had been either running around for the club or visiting his son, so it was the first time he was face-to-face with her. And what a face.

She was sat down by the desk parallel to his mother’s, too lost in the accounting books to acknowledge his presence. Her auburn hair, long and wild, cascaded down her shoulders, in contrast to her dark blue shirt, that in its simplicity only emphasized more her porcelain skin and the most stunning set of bright eyes he had ever seen.

She was nibbling lightly at the end of the pen in her hand, and Jax could feel himself grin at the thought of what else he would love to see those full lips wrapped around.

Jax cleared his throat, hoping she would finally noticed him there, too afraid to let his mind wander anymore on the thoughts that involved the beautiful stranger in front of him. 

“Hi there” he called, and she looked up. And he was a goner.

Her bright blue eyes staring wide at his, her mouth slightly open, lacking a pen, as she first noticed him standing there, by the door. He bravely kept the steady eye-contact, his brows rising as he smiled smugly, waiting for any kind of embarrassed reaction from her. Instead, her eyes softened as her lips curled into a mesmerizing smile.

“Hi” her voice is as sweet as a hummingbird, Jax thought, as he moved closer to her, sitting down in the chair in front of her desk, his legs sprawled out and his fingers entwined over his torso

“So, you’re Jon’s baby sis, huh?”

She rolled her eyes quickly at him, obviously amused by his teasing, as the sweet smile never left her lips “My name is Sansa”

Sansa. An unusual name for an unusual good-looking woman.

“Jax” he replied, as he pulled the cigarette box out of his pocket, grabbing a stick in between two fingers.

He noticed her gaze drifting from his face to his hand, and as she leaned back on her chair she looked up to his eyes again.

“So, it’s you I have to thank for the job, then” she remarked, and he simply shrugged

“Jon said you’re good with numbers”

She chuckled “I hope to live to that high expectations”

Jax was about to bring the cigarette to his lips, but stopped, just inches away. The corner of his mouth curled up slightly, as he tried not to show too much how he was amused by her smart teases. He licked his bottom lip as his eyes never left hers, a hum escaping him “And some”

Sansa looked away from his gaze into her papers, still smirking as a flush of heat rose from her neck into her cheeks “Gemma’s out, running errands. She’ll be back in an hour or so”

Jax pulled the cigarette into his lips and pushed himself up using the armrests, turning to the door as he lighted up the stick. He then turned around, puffing out the smoke before he smiled cheeky and winked “See ya‘round, Red”

She let out a loud laugh, her eyes and nose crinkled in pure amusement, and when Jax thought Sansa couldn’t be more arousing she spoke, her voice sweet and flirtatious as a purr

“Bye, Boss”

A.N.: So, here it is the first chapter!!! Sorry for any mispelling, and if there is anyone interested the taglist is open!

[gintokissilverbells]

The First Time

Pairing: Kawakami Bansai x Female Reader

Warning: A little angsty and a bit of fluffy/semi-romantic?? moments. A bit of a sad past, but I promise it gets better! I think...

TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of family death and grieving (break down??).

Summary: When misfortune befell on you; you were given a chance to seek revenge against those who wronged you, but you got a bit more than what you bargained.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: AAAHHH!! My first request!! I’m not gonna lie, I panicked a little when I got this request. (I deleted it by accident, but hey I got a screenshot of it). Sorry that I took a bit of time. I got carried away when writing this request. It was supposed to be short but I ended up getting into it, and I ended up editing some things out because this WASN’T MEANT TO BE SAD WTF... Anyhow, my writing is still improving and my grammar isn’t the best, but I will definitely edit this out for any grammar mistakes on a later date.

To the Anony: Thank you sweet pea for your well wishes!!! It makes me happy knowing someone out there is looking forward to this request. I hope this lived up to your expectations, or at least grazed your expectations a little. I hope to hear more of your asks if you wish to send some more.

- Mrs. Sakata

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Life has a funny way of turning sour things to sweet, and vice-versa. You never know when the wrong side of the coin will land on top, or when misfortune befalls on you.

You lived a comfortable life as the daughter of the shogun’s top general. Your upbringing and education were of the best quality, and your family were loving and supportive. As your family tradition dictated, every direct descendent of the family’s main branch were required to learn the art of the sword and martial arts.

You excelled at whatever given tasks, and even advanced to learning strategy and war tactics from your father himself. You were the perfect only daughter of the (y/l/n) clan, and the one who was given the hope of surpassing your father’s intellect and strategy. Your growing connections with the wealthy, the politicians, and influential people were making you a reliable future head of the family.

Until the day misfortune befell on your family, and ultimately on you.

The greatest and exemplarily man of your life had slipped up, and he and all of your family paid for it. The man who you called your father was found guilty of treason against the Bakufu by aiding various Jouishi extremist groups with supplies, investments, and most importantly, weapons. The most notable extremists of them all, the Kiheitai. The Army of the Demon Soldiers. By aiding these extremists, your father was taken and executed along with most of your family and servants.

Escaping with only your father’s precious sword, the (y/l/n) clan’s former glory and status had all but plummeted. You were all alone and being persecuted, with only a sword to really call your own.

Then you stumbled on the very people your father was helping with overthrowing the Bakufu. You don’t know what really happened, or how you became to join the Kiheitai officially. It was all a blur, a lot of noise, and a lot to process. Yet, you found yourself sitting amongst the dangerous leaders of the group instead of being forced to death by your family’s killers.

You found yourself quickly introduced into the ranks before you had completely assimilated the absence of your family. It was too much all at once, and to add to it, the mastermind behind her rescue was no other than the Kiheitai’s leader: Takasugi Shinsuke.

It was no secret to you—or to anyone—for the reason of your recruitment. He knew he had lost a valuable backer and spy with the death of your father—and he made it known that even if this setback their plans slightly—he still intended on using you and your connections amongst those who are willing to back the Kiheitai. And you willingly allowed it to happen. After all, the Bakufu were the reason for you losing everything that was dear to you, and you were not going to rest until you saw the corrupt organization burned to the ground.

Of course, ideals are all good and pure up until the dirty work came around. It wasn’t all sunshine and daisies, nor was it easy to work with experienced soldiers, tacticians, and assassins. Being second-guessed, fighting for your position, and defending yourself against the toughness of ral life; you were quickly maturing to a level you never imagined you will reach. Where once you were amongst the rich, now you were there amongst real people, real suffering, and real pain. You weren’t the spoiled brat that was able to defeat your father in a game of war anymore. You were someone else now, and you weren’t quite sure what that meant beyond the revenge you seek for your family, and for your father.

Amongst everything that happened; there was a silent supporter amongst some of the opposition you faced. He was quiet, always hearing his music and seemingly ignoring his surroundings. When listening to something he particularly liked, he will bob his head to the beat and make his teal green hair flutter with the movement. When you first arrived at their main base of operation, he was the one who silently guided you through the Kiheitai ranks and guided you to a new beginning for a new you. Your first impression of him did not go beyond that of a good-looking man and wondering what type music he was listening to. Now, he was a mentor of sorts, and you often accompany him in negotiations and transactions made between the extremists and Amanto mercenaries.

Now, in your current present, you were sitting by yourself in one of the observatory rooms of the ship. You saw the stars pass by you as the ship sailed into the black void. As you looked on, you held the last memento of your family close to you. Scattered around you were products that you needed to clean your father’s sword, and you ceremonially cleaned it with respect and care.

You hadn’t noticed there was someone else in the room.

Going on about your business, the man you thought about lately stood next to you. Looking up in surprise, you saw him keep his gaze on the sparkling stars. There was silence between you two, not awkward, but pure and simple silence. As you were about to go back to your cleaning and maintenance, you saw him settle down next to you after taking off his shamisen from his back and holding the instrument on his lap. At first, there was a pregnant pause before he spoke,

“Have you’ve gotten used to life here?”

It was a random question and so very out of the ordinary for him. He wasn’t a shy man, and he had no trouble speaking, but often enough he just chose not to. You knew him as being quiet and usually did not initiate any conversation unless he found some interest on what he saw or heard. Most of the time, when it was just you two, you will be the one to start the conversation. It was always work related though.

“You can say that… It is better than what fate and the Bakufu had in store for me back then,” You answered as you ran a soft rag over the long blade of your father’s katana.

“­­Are you comfortable?”

You looked at him quizzically, but you indulged him with an answer,

“Yes…”

“…You sound unsure.”

Bansai looked at you through his maroon rimmed shades. His light brown eyes staring right at your soul and maybe your inner thoughts. You sighed, looking away from him in hopes he took the hint and dropped the future topic. You really did not want to talk about your state of comfort to him with his weird interrogation/caring questioning. Instead, you decided to busy yourself looking at the stars and questioning him,

“Bansai-sama, with all due respect, what brings you here? I doubt you came to question me about trivial things as the state of my comfort.”

You didn’t mean to be rude or trying to get rid of his presence. You were merely questioning his motives. After all, this was extremely out of his character.

Without missing a beat, the man ignored your question and repeated his statement,

“You sound unsure.”

You sighed and turned to look at him. He seemed to have not moved at all from the position you last saw him in. His staring became a bit more intense, and finally you gave in after having a small staring match with him. With a sigh, you looked down at your sword and found your face being reflected on it.

“It’s not that I’m unsure. I am comfortable. I have food, a place to sleep, and a roof above my head. There is no need to worry about that. It’s just… I guess I just miss what I had…”

You paused. This is the first time you had ever talked to him about a personal matter… or to anyone to begin with. You were always busy with something else or making meetings with potential backers and the such. There was no real time to worry about comfort, or to remember. To remember what you took for granted, and how much you missed it. 

Clearing your throat, you smiled forcefully and looked towards the man next you,

“Do not worry about me, Bansai-sama. I will be alright. You don’t have to worry about my performance or my ability to complete my duties. I will follow through our goal to my very end.”

Bansai stared back, and for a few moments the emotions in his eyes shifted into something soft before going back to being passive. Observing her as if she was something hard to understand.

Looking away with an embarrassed soft blush, you returned to cleaning your sword. At this point, you were just trying to make yourself busy rather than cleaning the sword. It was already clean to begin with.

A soft sigh came out from the man next to you before he spoke up,

“I had passed by to see if the room was empty. I was wrong, obviously… When I saw it was you… You held a sad expression.”

You almost didn’t catch the last part of his sentence, but for some reason it still rang in your ears loud and clear. A little stunned, you stared at him with a slightly confused face; mouth slightly agape. 

This was the first time he had expressed any concern for you. Ever.

He looked down on his instrument and prepared himself to play it. Ignoring your existence for a moment, he started to play a tune. This was also the first time you heard the instrument being played in such proximity. Almost like a private concert. You were entranced by it at first, the movement of his skilled calloused hands and the concentrated expression he held on his face made him look different to you.

This was different from his usual demeanor.

Finishing up, he finally opened his eyes and looked at you. A little mesmerized you complimented him,

“That was amazing... so beautiful.” 

He widen his eyes and his cheeks only so slightly turned pink, but he didn’t turn away from you. 

“Thank you.”

You smiled a little before looking at the glass window, the black nothingness outside peppered with stars. The silence that transpired between you two stayed liked that for a few moments, and you decided to speak again, 

“Father would’ve thrown a fit if he saw me following his footsteps. He would’ve for sure locked me in my room and tell me to study instead of playing with fire.”

She smiled down on your sword with a wistful expression. Raising it up, you let the light gleam on it’s sharp edge, “He often told me stories of the Joui wars, the amanto invasion, and how he served the Bakufu despite everything... The look on his eyes... they were those of a guilty man in a nightmare. I should’ve guessed his intentions from the very beginning.”

Your eyes started to water, and you let the sword rest on your lap. Biting your lips, you hid from the gaze of Bansai as you spoke again, “He wanted a different future for me... Ah dang it, I’m sorry... it’s been a few months and it still hurts so much... I don't even know what I am saying anymore. Forget-”

His voice interrupted you, “Instead of forgetting... and pretending to be strong in front of a man who also has known lose, you should remember the good and the bad times and let the tears flow. Do not pretend that it did not happen, it will only hurt more and for a longer time than what you will wish for. Instead, take it as the driving force to what makes you now, and what drives you to move forward. As twisted the path is, it is still forward. That is what (Y/Father’s/N)-dono would’ve said, I daresay.”

You were biting your lips so hard, you were sure to draw blood from them if you kept on trying to hold back the tears. A few traitor ones slipped by and finally a gasp for air was heard from you. Then there it was, you felt the few awkward comforting taps on your shoulder. You slowly turned your head to the only other person in the room, your eyes meeting slowly, a small hiccup leaving your lips before...

“... Bansai-sama? Are you alright?... You look... constipated.”

The man’s expression looked like it was in that sort of pain when you know it’s there but you can’t push it out because you think your whole existence will go with it. You know, THAT pain? Well that’s the look he had. 

Bansai looked at you with a dangerous glare as you mentioned it to him. Removing his hand quickly, you couldn’t help but snort before starting to laugh even with the snot clogging your nose.

The tears you tried to hide became those of laughter, and the look that Bansai gave you was enough for you to die down a little. Cleaning a tear away, you sighed when you finally completely stopped.

“I needed that. Thank you Bansai-sama.” You gave him the brightest smile you could and he returned a semi-soft one in return.

“This is the first time I see you smile like that...” You gave him a surprised look, cheeks flushed, but nevertheless you gave him another one. You felt lax, and a little lighter. The hurt was still there, but the pain was easier to bear today than yesterday.

He held a smile as well, not as expressive, but definitely reached his passive eyes. This was the first time you saw him show so much emotions to you, and you felt a different connection to him from the one that had transpired earlier.

There was always a first time for everything, and that time in the observatory was the first time to a blooming relationship.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Thirty-Two: Gateway ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ AO3 Link ]

Well...this isn’t how he planned this journey to go, if he’s going to be honest with himself. When Itachi approached him with a plan to make a mountain of gold with what would likely be only average effort...well, he wasn’t about to say no. Sasuke isn’t a greedy young man, but he is a bit desperate. Their family, fallen from grace when he was a boy when their homeland was conquered, are only shadows of their former glory and influence. If they could just get some of their money back...then surely the Uchiha name would have a fighting chance!

But that means earning it. Their new ruling class aren’t too fond of those able to wield the elements...and that’s made things hard. So a job like that Itachi had described - rescuing a kidnapped princess from the clutches of her personal hand mage gone rogue - seemed the perfect opportunity. Their magic would put them on good footing. Add in that it would be two on one, and...surely they couldn’t fail.

Plans, however, have a way of...changing.

Because while they did indeed find the missing princess they’ve been looking for...there’s a slight problem. For Hinata, daughter of the king Hiashi of the line Hyūga, was not kidnapped. Or so she claims, backed up by the woman painted as the guilty party. Oh no...the tale was indeed far more complicated than that.

What Itachi had been told was that a woman - a mage and bequeathed to the princess when they were both only children - had stolen the princess away as a means of leverage for her escape. A citizen of a conquered land, she had been treated as an object, gifted to Hinata as a servant and plaything. The story went that her hatred had grown silently, never shown, until she stole the princess away to ensure her safety until reaching the border.

But...that’s not the truth, or so Hinata claims.

Itachi had held up a hand upon her rather blunt declaration of the true reason behind their being missing. “...your father was going to have you killed…?”

The princes gave a grave nod. “...several weeks ago...he discovered a truth I’d been hiding from him for quite some time. My mother - his first wife - was n-not what she seemed. She was a mage, but kept it hidden from all. My powers woke when I was young, and it was my handmaid who helped me hide it, and helped to teach me.”

The brothers’ eyes had gone wide, exchanging a knowing glance.

Hinata’s eyes dropped somberly to the floor. “...I knew he’d be furious should he ever discover it, but also that - eventually - it would slip. And when it did, he f-flew into a rage. Forbade me from ever using it, and began seeking ways to strip a mage of their powers. It was then we began to plot an escape. But just as we were preparing, my father revealed his own plan: a coverup. He would have me killed, and place the blame on my handmaid: spin a tale of hate and jealousy when in fact...she’s my closest friend.”

“...so when you escaped, he altered the tale…”

“Yes. We’re fleeing for the northern border - the lands Hiashi lost in the last war, and my previous homeland,” the maiden mage then offered, stepping up. “We plan to find asylum there. If we do, Hinata will be safe...and I can try to find the remnants of my people. We just have to evade those like you seeking to take Hinata back. If they were to succeed...I can guarantee she’d be dead within a fortnight.”

Itachi hummed in thought, a hand at his chin. “...might I make a suggestion?”

The women exchanged a look, and then warily nodded.

“First, let me ask: have you any coin? Surely you need it to make such a journey. But I can’t imagine you were able to raid Hiashi’s coffers before you fled.”

At that, Hinata gave a hint of a smile. “...I have my inheritance.”

“What, on you?” Sasuke asked skeptically.

“In a manner of speaking, but...for safety, I can’t really tell you.”

“I see...forgive my brother, he often speaks before thinking,” the elder then apologized, tone hinting at Sasuke to curb his tongue with a glance. “Then perhaps we could make a bit of a deal…?”

“What kind of deal…?”

“Well, when we began this quest, we sought to earn gold for our family by returning you ladies to the king. But now, we can hardly do so and keep our consciences happy. So what if we were to turn our intentions on their heads?”

“...meaning?” the handmaid asked.

“Rather than capture you...we could escort you. We know these lands well, and we are both adept in magic like yourselves. With which we could guide you through the safest routes, and help protect you...respectively.”

While the princess looked hopeful, her handmaid held out a bracing hand. “...why should we trust you?”

“I realize you have little more than our word to go on, but...in a sense, we know your struggle, ma’am. Our family was also assimilated unwillingly when we were conquered. It’s for them we work to refill our own coffers. In truth, we’ve little love for Hiashi...as mages, he sees us as lesser and tainted. By helping you, we could kill two birds with a single stone. Perhaps earn some coin, and also deliver a bit of a blow to the man who reduced our family to ruin.”

“...so you’re loyal not to Hiashi, but to yourselves...and your family.”

“And - out of necessity - coin. Should you agree to part with a small sum of the princess’ treasury, we’ll gladly lend you our aid.”

“And if someone were to offer you more to harm us?”

Itachi gave a wry smile. “Well...you also happen to have the advantage of being an enemy of our enemy. It will take more than that, I assure you.”

“...I think we should go with them,” Hinata had murmured, earning an uncertain glance from her companion.

“But, my lady…?”

“They’re right. We need help. And we have a common enemy.” There had been a small flicker of an emotion across her face at the word none of them could identify. “As far as I can s-see...we’ll all help one another. And it’s safer to travel together. Please…”

The mage sighed heavily. “...as you wish. But your safety is still my utmost priority, my lady.”

“I know.”

It was then, after a few more haggles over details, that the group of four had left the strange cave and took to the road. With only two horses between them, they maintained a slower pace to the next town. The mage had saddled up with Itachi, and Sasuke was stuck with the princess.

Thankfully, she hasn’t said much, just sitting behind him with a careful grip around his middle for balance. Sasuke’s never been too keen on women. Needless to say...he’s a bit unsteady.

“May I ask...which war saw you become citizens of my father’s nation…?”

“...it was when I was fairly small,” he manages to reply, tone a little terse with exasperation at the small talk. “Maybe five or so.”

“I see...the same, then, that I was given my handmaid. Only for the north to be conquered instead by the Namikaze king a few years later.”

“...that’s where we’re headed, eh?”

“Yes. We hope to find safety there.”

“What would they want with a princess no longer tied to a kingdom?”

“Their king and ours have a-always been at odds. My father’s loss to him left him embittered, and there’s been a long-standing stalemate between them. But unlike here...mages are free to live as they please in the north. It would be a personal blow if they played a hand in t-thwarting my father’s attempts to be rid of me. And even if no longer a princess by rite, I still carry royal blood.”

“Hn...never been one much for politics.”

That earns a soft laugh. “Nor have I. In all honesty...I’m glad to be rid of my title. It’s better suited to my sister.”

“...so, she’s a half-sister, then?”

“Yes...my mother died when I was four or so. Father then remarried, and soon had Hanabi. And after all of this, I wonder…”

“...what?”

“...if her death was planned as mine was. If Father remarried and had another child for fear that I would be like her…”

In spite of himself, Sasuke balks a bit in surprise. “...would he…?”

“...I can no longer assume he wouldn’t.”

Unsure what else to say, Sasuke instead looks up as they pass beneath an arch that houses a gateway into their next destination. The women need horses if they’re to make any decent pace. “...well, we’re here. My brother and I will buy the mounts. You two stay out of sight, and do your best to disguise yourselves. Speak to no one, and try not to leave the inn.”

“...right.”

With two rooms rented for the night, they settle the pair in before leaving for the livery.

“We’ll bring a meal with us,” Itachi promises. “Just be patient, if you would.”

“Thank you.”

Glancing to Hinata, Sasuke hesitates a moment. “...keep yourself safe until we get back.”

“...I will.”

                                                         .oOo.

     (This is a sequel to day 321!)       I'm super tired sooo I'll be brief!      More of the old RP-turned-fic...thing. Kinda. I dunno how to describe it xD Fantasy stuff! Mages! Not-so-kidnapped princesses! Evil kings! All we need are some dragons and our checklist will be complete, right?      I dunno if I'll do more of this - I'm...unsure about a lot lately given just how DRAINING and busy life has been (and will be) for...a while. So forgive me with how much I'm falling behind, I just CANNOT keep up. But as always, I WILL FINISH THIS. It's just gonna stretch past.      ALSO! Since we ARE nearing the end, please PLEASE let me know somehow - be it comments here, messages on Tumblr, etc. - your top pick(s) for ideas from this challenge you'd like to see given more chapters! I AM going to take a fairly big break after this challenge cuz OOF, but I DO want to do some short multichap fics once I'm recuperated, so...if you have a favorite, let me know, and I'll see if I can do more with it!      Anyway, I reallllly need to sleep, so I'll leave it at that - thanks for reading!

[betsynagler]

The Four (Thousand, New) Questions

When I was growing up, I didn't really have to think too much about what it meant to be a Jewish American. A large part of that was living in New Jersey, where being a member of the tribe isn’t exactly an anomaly. In Newark, pretty much all of my friends were Jewish or Black, until I spent 2nd grade in Catholic School. You’d think that might make it weird, but even then, it wasn’t. All my new friends just had Irish and Italian names, and I got to sit in the back during mass and read, which is the dream of every second grader. And when we moved to the suburbs, things became, if anything, more Jewy. We joined Temple Israel and actually tried going to services every once in a while, and I went to Hebrew school on Saturdays. At my suburban public grade school, I learned the term “Jappy” something my friends and I called other girls that we considered spoiled, regardless of whether or not they were Jewish, and in junior high, the school bus that came from the most wealthy, Jewish neighborhood in town was sometimes referred to as “The Jew Canoe.” Who did we learn these terms from? Other Jews. We were the ones trading in the laughable stereotypes, because that’s American Jewish culture all over: we joke because we can. It’s never been in doubt in my lifetime that we belong here, to the degree that we are comfortable poking fun at ourselves, enough that while we are very aware that we aren’t and will never be the majority — and if you forget that, you always have the 30 to 60 days of Christmas to remind you — we are perfectly okay with that; and enough to feel safe in the knowledge that the past is the past, because in the Tri-State Area in the 1970s and 80s, anti-Semitism was about as real to me as Star Wars: something that existed long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away. The same thing with Nazis. Nazis were the movie villains nobody got upset about. Nobody ever said, “Why do the Nazis always have to be the bad guys?” Why? Because they were the bad guys. 

That doesn’t mean that my Jewish identity was 100% uncomplicated, mostly because I was raised to figure stuff out for myself. Mine were the kind of parents who took us to fancy restaurants and said, “Want to order the escargot? Have at it!”, perhaps not realizing that they’d end up with a seven-year-old who liked to try every appetizer on the menu but had a stomach the size of a golfball – which led to my parents gaining weight in the 70s, which led to their joining the exercise craze in the 80s...See how history happens? Being able to make my own decisions meant I could quit Hebrew school after one year (I was already a well-practiced quitter of stuff I didn't like, such as wearing dresses and learning the violin). I felt a little guilty about it, so I was definitely Jewish in that way, but one of the reasons I couldn’t get behind religious school was the fact that Judaism was supposedly my religion, but – go figure – our family was not religious. My parents don’t agree on which type of not-religious they are, since my mother describes herself as an atheist and my father calls himself an agnostic, but that’s only if you push them, since neither of them cares enough about it either way. They still identify as Jewish, and therein lay the confusion for me: Judaism is kind of an ethnic identity as well as a religion, but in a weird way, because you can convert to it, which you can’t do with, say, Slavic, and because it’s not one where we all come from one specific place, since Jews were basically driven out of everywhere. Sure, my family were all driven out of one country, Poland, but that didn’t exactly make them feel Polish. No, we were definitely Jews, just the secular kind, which is actually a thing — although I didn’t know anyone else like that in high school, the result being that in my group of friends, a mix of Jews and non-Jews, I was in my own category of Jewish, But Doesn’t Know When Any of the Holidays Are.

When I went to college on the West Coast, where I was meeting new people all the time, it was common for people tell me I didn’t “look Jewish,” which seemed to just fit right in with every other confusing part of my Jewish identity. You might think that, as a stealth Jew, I’d finally be privy to negativity about us, but that never happened. That was around the time of the rise of the religious right, and there were a lot of born-again Christians at Stanford, my freshman dorm was full of them. But while they may have believed I was going to hell, most of them still seemed happy to hang with me while we were alive – one of them even took me out for fro yo once (that’s short for “frozen yogurt,” and eating it together at Stanford in 1987 was called “dating”). If anything, being Jewish around them was an advantage, because they never tried to rebirth me the way they did other Christians, like my poor freshman roommate – I would come back to our room to find her surrounded by a group of them, looking uncomfortable, like she was getting hit on by Jesus. Mind you, I know now that my school was a liberal bubble inside the liberal bubble that was Northern California, and that protected me from a lot of things. But while we were definitely dealing with racism and sexism on campus at the time, anti-Semitism? That just wasn’t a thing.

Neither was being a Jewish person who didn’t support Israel. I didn’t know all that much about Israel growing up. I knew that it was the Jewish state, where I had once had some relatives, and that my cousins and eventually my brother — who finished Hebrew school — went to visit because they felt like it was an important way to learn about who they were. I didn’t. But when, in college, I had my first conversation with someone who’d lived in Israel about the way that Israelis felt this constant existential threat to their existence that justified their defensive posture when it came to negotiating peace with the Palestinians, even though they clearly had vast military superiority, I didn’t necessarily agree, but I got it. I understood why Israelis felt that, in a visceral, six-million-dead-just-because-they-were-like-you way that I think most non-Jews can’t. 

That was probably as much of a surprise to me as it was to anyone: that, on some level, in spite of not looking Jewish, or being able to speak Hebrew, or knowing what Sukkot was (if it wasn’t about eating or presents, it didn’t make it into the Nagler Canon of Holidays), I actually still somehow just was Jewish. And that part of my identity might never have really sunk in if I hadn’t become a New Yorker. Moving here didn’t just mean that I discovered Zabars, or that I was a bagel snob, or that I would be able to have lox at catering pretty much every day (and occasionally take some home if it was really good), although those things did indeed happen. New York was able to absorb and assimilate Jewish culture in a way that allowed it to flourish as one distinct flavor of the whole that is this city of many flavors. New York is a Jewish city – in same way that it’s also Italian, Irish, African-American, Puerto Rican, Chinese, Russian, Indian, Dominican, Pakistani, Caribbean, Mexican, and the list goes on depending on who’s arrived recently and who’s coming next. And so, from the way I relate to food, to my sense of humor, to my analytical and intellectual side, to how forthright/tactless I can be, to my overall worldview: living here enabled me to recognize that I just wouldn’t be this way if I weren’t Jewish.

Everything feels different in 2019 in so many, surreal ways, but what exactly it means to be Jewish in America is definitely a big one. I’ve felt some vulnerability and uncertainty as a woman for most of my life, as you do, but I’ve never felt that way about being a Jew until now. To the point that I can’t call myself “a Jew” any more, because suddenly, that’s an epithet. How the hell did that happen? When did we allow them to take that word away? Then there’s the realization of, Wait, we can’t make those jokes any more because there are people who actually still think that shit about us? And they’re telling other people? Fucking internet. Add to that the fault lines within the American Jewish community over Israel and the ground really starts to feel like it’s swaying under your feet. How much we should continue to support this country that seems increasingly unrecognizable to me, that is so racked by fear and sectarianism that it appears to have given up on peace and democracy, that votes for a leader who has demonstrated time and again that he is both racist and corrupt? Well, now that I’ve put it like that, okay, maybe this is something that Israel and the United States have in common right now, but that doesn’t make it any better for those of use who are trying to stay on the sane side of it all. I’m lucky that most of my family is in agreement with me on these issues, but my mother has some cousins with whom she is close that she had to ask to stop sending her political emails, because their conservative views about Israel seemed to have somehow spread to abortion and immigration, despite that fact that they live in San Francisco. Jewish Trump supporters? From the Bay Area? What the hell is the going on?! Come on, this can’t be us. When an audience at the Republican Jewish Coalition cheers when Trump says “Our country’s full. You can’t come in,” don’t they hear the eerie echos of what the American government said to the boats full of Jews they sent back to be slaughtered in the holocaust? Don’t they know that we are supposed to be sharp, and educated, and fucking liberals? Oh, wait, is “liberal” now a bad word not just among conservatives but for some on the left too, as in the “liberal elite who control everything” that they’re always talking about? But, double wait, wasn’t that just another way anti-Semites used to say “the Jews” without saying “the Jews”? But triple wait, aren’t Bernie Sanders and Glenn Greenwald Jewish? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Of course, this about when all of your older Jewish relatives shake their heads at all of this and say, “See? This is exactly the shit always happens to us. Somehow, when things go bad in the world, and people start believing crazy conspiracy shit, that always turns back on the Jews.” I never believed that before, so to see it sort of happening right before my eyes is really something. But at the same time, I’m sure as hell not going to let that make me just silo up. Yeah, there are the swastikas, and the Tree of Life synagogue shooting, and “Jews will not replace us,” but can we honestly say we have it worse than everyone else who’s under attack in this country right now? What’s the point of joining a grievance competition that just gives the people who are trying to divide the left exactly what they want? It’s how, when the new questions that confuse and divide us just keep coming — What do we say or not say about Ilhan Omar? What about the schism in the Women’s March? What about the Senate bill that would allow state and local governments to withhold contracts from those who boycott Israel that Chuck Schumer supported? — they just get us to go after each other.

Let’s not do that. Sure, maybe this is just another case of me getting older and less able to accept how the world is changing — sort of a, “Damn Nazis, get off my lawn!” type of thing – and maybe I should just go along with this new normal. But that's one thing I know is definitely not me. MoTs like to talk shit out, sometimes too much, but eh. Let’s bring that tradition of analysis and argument — and I mean the kind where you’re forthright and emotional, but you still know how to listen — to bear on the questions we’re having both on the left and in the Jewish community about how we move forward, instead of fleeing back into our fears from the past.

[youthincare]

[ image description is screenshot of facebook page Toronto IWW General Defence Committee Local 28 that says, “this site holds the personal journey of Allison, an Anishinaabe woman and survivor whom experienced intense abuse at the hands of Canadian Child protective services. These letters, videos, and other evidence tell her life story - from her point of view - aiming to help victims and expose the disgusting reality of Canada-bred colonialism. Please share widely! #familiesbelongtogether.” ]

Allison:

I will begin by saying the following information can be triggering for many people. Especially Indigenous People and it includes extremely sensitive subject matter. Please have supports present if you fall under the following categories (not fond of that term, but it is what it is);

Residential School Survivors Sixties Scoop Survivors Victims of Millenial Scoop (ongoing Neo-Colonism) Domestic Violence Victims Sexual Abuse Victims Justice System Victims Victims of Discrimination via Health Care Systems Victims of Human Rights Violations Victims of Disenfranchisement whether legally in the past or via Modern Day Disenfranchisement by way of Neo-Colonism Human Trafficking Victims

The attached letters include my personal journey while attempting to navigate the Federal and Provincial Policies that we as Indigenous People are Governed by via the Corporate Government of Canada. Kanata. They essentially contain my life story. Like many of our People a time came when Child Protective Services began knocking on my door. At the time I had no way of knowing where this would lead me and had I known I may have ran for my life with my children tow. I didn’t though, but I also didn’t give up. Although this Correspondence is Traumatic in Nature, there is also hope within these pages. If you know where to look, there is always hope and I aim to touch the hearts of those with similar stories and also provide them with a Template of sorts as to how I effectively protected my family so that maybe they can dig deep within themselves, find that fire within and use to Protect their families from the Vast Amounts of Systemic Racism we as Indigenous People face on a daily basis. Our lives being Politicized for us through the Indian Act and other Discriminatory Federal and Provincial Policies. I dare even say Genocidal Policies. Debwewin.

If you look into History, you will see evidence that the Settlers often used our own People to aid in their Assaults on us. This has not changed, a Symptom of Intergenerational Trauma is Lateral Violence. Heartbreaking but true. Divide and Conquer often being an effective technique during times of War. Debwewin.

“A Nation is not defeated until the Hearts of its Women are on the Ground.” A well known Cree saying. How is this accomplished? By going after the children. Instilling Patriarchal Policies, Seperating Tribes and Clans. By removal of the Matriarchal Ways of Being by which we Governed ourselves Pre-Colonization. By Removal of our Traditional Ways of Life and rendering our Women Silent on Matters that control their very lives.

Victims of Domestic Violence are not protected but Prosecuted. Their children taken by force. Assimilated into the Justice and Child Welfare Systems. Our sons are denied appropriate services and Educations until they are forced into a live by gun die by the gun lifestyle. Gangs, Prisons, and Graveyards claim our sons as their own. Our daughter’s forced into unsafe positions. Outside most Women’s Shelters, Group Homes, Jails, and Child Protection “Safe Houses” you will see vehicles. I have seen them with my own eyes. Been followed and stopped by them many times in my life, both as a Youth and an Adult. In these cars are Pimps. Ready to sweep away young women with broken hearts with promises of Safety and Belonging. Grooming behaviours. I have buried many Sisters in my life because of these cars and dangerous men behind their windshields. I speak now for them. To Honour their Lives because I survived it.

Our Communities often do not help us. Band Systems are Government Systems. If a child gets sent to live with Family, the Band gets Funding for that, the Child Welfare Organizations get funding for that. The Familes themselves often get Funding for the extra Children in their Care. Corruption allows these “Corporations” to decide amongst themselves who will Parent who’s Children under the guise of “Kinship Societies and Agreements” This is what I faced. I had no idea how high this corruption would go. Each step I took, each letter I sent I thought to myself….”This will be the one, someone will hear me.” I was wrong. Devastatingly wrong. My children though ARE in my Care. I DO still hold Sole Custody. It was these letters, how I wrote them, and how I sent and Served them that made all the difference. Communities should not have so much say over Children. Children are born to their parents, not to Government Systems. Yes they should stay in their Communities when they ARE in need of Protection, Kinship was our ways, but how it’s being done is not true to the Traditional Ways and is riddled with Colonistic, Patriarchal, Racist, and Genocidal Characteristics.

My Mother In Law wanted my daughter. I believe she wanted to her in Part to ease her own guilt at failing her son, who spent the majority of his youth in Juvenile Detention Centers. Cecil Fraiser. Another reason I contribute to this is it was merely their way of ending relationships. Their Cycle of Trauma repeating itself from Generation to Generation. Jealousy, feelings of Betrayal, Intergenerational Trauma. Although this infuriates me to no end, I see the Trauma behind it and so attempt to remove my personal emotions and look at the Whole of the Situation. A Birds eye view if you will. Taking this approach saved our lives. It truly did. It was anything but easy. My anger runs deep. My disgust runs deep. My sadness runs deepest. I grieve this woman I once loved. I grieve her everyday but I know she is not safe for me. Her Trauma will kill me if I allow it too. So I won’t. I’ll fight till the bitter end to remove her control over my life and the lives of my children. Even if it costs me my life. This Cycle of Abuse….ends here. My children and future Generations mean that much to me. I would die for them. Willingly give my life for theirs.

I do hold Imartial Documentation relating to these claims. Which is why nobody will Serve me or attempt to remove my children. Not Child Welfare, not Michipicoten First Nation, not Toronto District School Board Trunecy Office, the Office of the Attorney General simply hangs up on me, in fact upon speaking with United Nations I have been referred to Amnesty International. That’s how high the Corruption went. That’s how vast the Human Rights Violations committed against myself and my family were. Amnesty. Faaaack.

When it became clear that taking my daughter via Child Protection was NOT going to work. I was Served with a Motion to Change an Original Order. I fully expected this. In fact I am quite comfortable in a Court Room. They were now on my turf. Debwewin. Relief set over me. At first I was very quiet in the Courtroom. I bit my toungue and allowed them to build their Case against me. My Lawyer was not responding to me anyways. I eventually held him accountable. I looked terrible in Court. Dilico Anishnabek Family Care was flat out refusing to be Transparent. They told me they were only required to issue a lettter whether I had an open case, a closed case, and if I was cooperating or not. So I stayed silent. For years they had been investigating me. Sometimes as much as weekly. I knew full well what claims would be made against me because Dilico had already investigated them all. False Claims against me began happening in rapid succession. My home and my children’s school constantly being infiltrated. My daughter, ONLY MY DAUGHTER, constantly being pulled out of school to be interrogated without Representation, our home Investigated, our fridge went through, our bedrooms viewed, HER Health Records requested…again ONLY HERS, not my sons. My daughter began to break down under this pressure. She TOLD Aimy Price and Teresa Black, an Intake Worker for Dilico and a Family Support Worker from Michipicoten First Nation that she wanted her Father and her Nokomis to stop. She was ignored and a Privacy Breach took place. My ex, Benjamin Lewis, was given extremely sensitive information and confronted our daughter with it. She completely broke down. Details are provided in my letters. She had a Suicide attempt at school. At this point I had already obtained a referral for a Psychiatrist. Dilico Mental Health, a different Department under the Umbrella of Dilico Anishnabek Family Care WERE SUPPORTIVE of us throughout our battles with their Child Protection Department. I would like to Thank the Individual people that supported us through this time, without you we never would have made it. You know who you are and know how much we love you. Miigwetch….will all our hearts Chi Miigwetch.

At this time, very suspicious behaviour was taking place. Some involving my sister to whom I’m not close. I didn’t see the connections until a few months later upon looking back. I was shocked and furious that my sister was affected in this way. Although we are not close, I love her with all my heart. Nobody deserves what they did to her. Luckily she is a force to be reckoned with herself and had no problem effectively holding them accountable. By them I mean Michipicoten First Nation. Chief Joe Buckell was found guilty of Workplace Harassment and Wrongful Dismissal by the Human Rights Tribunal. Rock on Sister…you are a Warrior, Ogichidaa Kwe.

I was soon asked to sign Consents for the Courts regarding Child Protection Files, Police Records, and Health Records. I signed without question. At the time of my daughter’s Suicide attempt I had written Commissioned Complaint letters and sent them Registered Mail to Executive Director Darcia Bourge. I told my lawyer I would be writing my own Affidavits from here on out and he would be serving them unless he wanted my next letter to be to the Upper Law Society. He was surprised but did as asked. I attached my letters to my Affidavits as Exhibits along with Corresponding Health Records. This essentially flipped the direction Court was going. My Mother in law was removed from Supervising her sons access and as I requested his Step Father was put in his place. It’s not so easy to control his step father and he was soon left without a willing Supervisor and was Reduced to Supervised Access at a Temporary Access Center. When Lynn Tegosh, his Legal Council realized what I’d done she attempted to proceed without the Records. She was swiftly denied by the Judge. All Parties fought Subpoenas relating to the realease of their files. It was not until August of 2017, an entire eight months after being Subpoenaed that Dilico finally relinquished their Files for the Courts viewing. I felt physically sick to stomach when eight bankers boxes worth of files were realeased and it was discovered that in all those years they had NEVER had the grounds to serve me with a Protective Application. The Police Records never did reach the Courtroom. The week before a schedualed Mobility Hearing thatbwasvexpected to be remanded due to lack of Police Records, Benjamin was charged with an Assault on his new partner as well as Possession of Weapons while under a Weapons Prohibition. I also had secured an Investigation for Criminal Harassment, Making false Allegations to Police and Child Protection. I had been instructed by Shelley Nuefeldt to update my Lawyer and secure a Restraining Order against them. However when I got to Court, a Settlement Offer awaited me. If I signed this Settlement, relinquishing my Child Support and agreeing to Unsupervised Reasonable Access upon Reasonable Notice I could have my Mobilty and keep Sole Custody. In order to secure our IMMEDIATE Physical Safety I signed at my Lawyers advice. He said to go to Toronto, File from the Residence of the Child and put Restrictions back on him. I took his Advice, signed and fled. We never went home again. We went through the Shelters. So the Police Records never made it too the Courtroom.

Upon getting to Toronto, I concentrated on my children’s Mental, Emotional, Spritiual and Physical Safety. I secured an Apartment, managed to get our belongings shipped to us. Found them a school and counselling services. Arranged for Speech Assesments, that we’re never completed for my son. I contacted Shelley Nuefeldt, of Ontario Provincial Police, only to be told the moment I left town they dropped their investigation. She flat out refused to view Corresponding Health Records she was supposed to have secured. I wrote more letters of complaint and have been told that there is an Ongoing Organized Crime Internal Units Investigation, however Helena Wall of the Ontario Provincial Police refuses to give me written verification that they are in fact investigating, only phone calls and she does not respond to my emails.

Also since my arrival in Toronto, my children began experiencing Human Rights Violations via Systemic Racism in the First Nations School of Toronto. Six months passed and my son was not even given a Speech Assessment. I was given multiple excuses as to why not. Unclear signature, no Health Card number. Refusal to use the email address they were provided with and refusal to call his father who’s number I had provided the School with on Mulitple Occasions. I had been assured that they could obtain that information from his OSR as we had lost his Card on our Journey. My son barely speaks. I brought him to a Psychiatrist as well and it was Documented that he does not struggle from Mental Disabilities, but rather his ability to communicate and developmental delays are a Direct Result of Trauma from Human Rights Violations committed against him by way of Lack of appropriate Services, and Inconsistent Services. It has been recommended that he receive a Full Pyscho Education Assesment. As well recommended I get a Private Speech Assement to provide them with in order to prevent any future delays in Services to him.

My daughter’s experience. The teacher, told a group at school one day that nobody would care if they were raped or murdered. She also told them personal information regarding a Foster Child in her Care who she was supposed to have adopted. The adoption somehow fell through and all her students were aware. Highly inappropriate for children to be that involved in the personal details of their teachers life. Complaints by other parents were made. My daughter was part of an Investigation against the teacher without my knowledge. She began coming home snapping her fingers, and wanting to be beside me at all times. Clingy behaviour that raised Red Flags for me. I went into the school and spoke with one of their many Principles. He assured me my daughter would not be questioned again without my Prior Formal Consent. She was though. Multiple times. Due to Student on Student Sexual Misconduct. At this time I was furious. I pulled both children out of school immediately. I reported it to Police and Native Child And Family Services. Again, I hold Documentation to back up these claims. The School agreed to make a Saftey Plan with me for my daughter, yet they did not fill this out properly. Again I picked up my daughter showing high signs of stress. The boy had called her a Suicidal Slut. He should not have had any information that my daughter was ever suicidal. My daughter and I were told by Christina Breen that the boy involved had to show accountability himself in order for them to hold him accountable. I again removed both children. This time the school called Native Child and Family Services on me, as well as the Truency Office. After speaking with me both have declined Involvement. My children have not attended school since April of 2018. Nobody has Grounds to serve me and nobody will. They know full well the type of Documentation I hold and the thoroughness of it as I was Transparent throughout. Should any of these Corporations Serve me, they know full well what my Responses will look like, and so we are now at a Legal Standoff. My children being denied their Educations. Anything through Native Child, things Education related get sent back to the Bands through Federal Policy. So my Mother in Law and Michipicoten could easily track and influence the outcomes of any Investigations surrounding Truency and Child Protection. Had I filled out Home Schooling Forms, the School could challenge me as well so could Michipicoten. For this reason I refused, and the burden of proof lies on them, again they know what my responses will look like. So silence. Silence from TDSB, silence from the Band, Silence from Child Protection, silence from AFN, silence from Police, silence from the Attorney General. Just silence. I will be returning to Family Court. Should I not, due to her Suicide attempt, my daughter could be “red flagged” by Child Protection when she herself decides to become a mother. I will do everything in my power to ensure that doesn’t happen. Yet I will be taking a different approach, hopefully breaking trail for other women and family’s trapped by these systems. With the same words I’ve been using all along. Restorative Justice.

Restorative Justice was not originally meant to protect offenders, or provide them with excuses for violent or harmful behaviour. It was meant to Restore the “Cirlces” of the victim and possibly provide the Offender with the help they need to not reoffend. The offender and their family, victim families and communities would come together and survey the damage that had been done. How it affected all involved. And what could be done to repair Relationships, and if that was not possible or a danger, than the offenders were removed and a Circle of Care placed around the Victim or Victims in a Protective fashion. This was an extremely beneficial way of doing things Traditionally. Yet some are misusing this System in today’s Legal Systems. As I have repeatedly requested this Traditional approach to our situation but been denied everywhere I’ve reached out. I will now provide my daughter with it myself. I have reached out to an Elder who is willing to help me achieve this. We will not find the help we need through any Government Service. So I am taking my daughter on a Spirit Quest. A Medicine Walk.

Many of our People Fear the Change to which I aim to address. Some of these issues include sensitive subject matter. However, in order to truly obtain Healing and Restore Balance Amongst our People we can challenge ourselves to begin addressing them. As we walk I will release Oral Accounts via Video of my Journey that led me to where I now find myself. My daughter will be kept out of the Public eye for her safety and privacy. Should she wish to share her story on her own, that choice will be left in her hands for it is not mine to make.

Our end goal…to make an offer of Restorative Justice and Healing to my daughter’s Paternal Family, specifically her Nokomis.

My daughter is a wise child, always requesting of me to fix the troubles she sees in the world around her. A tall order indeed. I know in my heart of hearts that our People need to establish our own Systems and Authenticity DeColonize from the Western Linear Systems which we have become not only Oppressed by, but reliant on. She confided in me that she felt as though by being born she had somehow disrupted everyone’s “Circles”. Her words. She did not. Colonization, Assimilation, Genocide, disrupted these “Circles”. It can now be up to us as ONE NATION to Restore these Circles and begin to take steps toward this Common Goal in a Authentic Way. We all have these circles. I believe we also all have this evidence. What would happen if you, reading this, put all your Records into one room? What would you find? Something very similar to what I did I suspect. Differentiating situations, with the same overlaps, pushing and herding you where these Policies were set up to herd you. I believe this with all my heart and it saddens me deeply. To watch my People struggle through no fault of their own. Their Fate sealed by the Genocide. So under the Steady, Relentless Gaze of my daughter and with her at my side, we are committed to completing this Medicine Walk together in a Quest for Restorative Justice and to request her Nokomis to attend a Healing Lodge in Order to repair their Circle.

We are lovers of the land, and so have chosen to camp our way there. By doing so, Mending and Strengthening our Circle with each other. We will be walking 1013 Kilometres from Toronto Ontario, back to Michipicoten First Nation…ending our Walk for Healing on Whitesands Beach. This is a Rights of Passage for my daughter and Health Care Professionals are aware of what I am doing and are supportive. However her Nokomis reacts will be up to her. My daughter will always know where she stands. She will begin this walk a child and come out a woman. Essentially vaccinating her and instilling in her a strong sense of Self and Balance. As I will not be able to stand over her forever protecting her from the evils in this world, I will instead teach her to use her voice to set healthy boundaries. Even with those she loves. To put her own needs first ahead of the wants of others. We will NOT be approaching her father as he is a Physical Danger to us. My daughter understands that. My aim to teach her that sometimes it’s okay to love people from afar if that is what is required to maintain her personal safety and well being. When I return I will release the records I hold. I will speak out. I will Advocate for others. I will Call for an end to the Six Point Plan. I will Advocate for Clan Systems to be reintroduced into our ways of life. True Restorative Justice. I will be returning to Family Court. Should I not, due to her Suicide attempt, my daughter could be “red flagged” by Child Protection when she herself decides to become a mother. I will do everything in my power to ensure that doesn’t happen. Like minded people…I ask you, get together. In groups and find your Brothers and Sisters by Clan. Access your own Records and see what you find. Research your Family Trees. I believe we can do this. I believe we all can together. I believe we can make a difference. One Nation…. We are not responsible for our wounds, but we are responsible for healing them. For True Healing comes from within. Not from any Government Service. From within. Should we find healing, and let go of our Traumas that hold us back. We could end this Trauma Pipeline. For a Government cannot control a Healthy Nation. Their biggest fear…is the day we truly stand together as one. I believe we can…if…

I make this Statement for no Improper Use.

Keewatinung Kwe

[chronicbatfictioner]

Theater of the Soul - Chapter 20

Thanks to Barbara and Dinah — and to no small extent, Diana Prince's — collective efforts; the news of Napier's death and investigation were kept to a minimal. As Barbara predicted, the local police had started with the more 'obvious' suspect: Jason. That, too, was kept out of the news. At least in Gotham.

When Jason was finally able — and allowed — to tell and reveal the things he remembered of the times following the accident, he was accompanied by Bruce, Barbara, and Dr Kent Nelson. The whole questioning by the police took part at the hospital, in Jason's room. Although Jason had asked for Tim to be there, too, Tim had to miss it - the police came at seven a.m.; clearly expecting Jason to be alone. None of them must have predicted Bruce and Barbara coming from the Wayne Tower penthouse - located right next to the hospital. Nor did they expect the insistence of Nurse Crystal Brown — Stephanie's mother — to not leave Jason unsupervised by an adult until Dr Kent Nelson arrived, mere minutes before Bruce and Barbara came in.

Jason's smile at Stephanie when Tim brought her in was majestic.

"Thanks for having your mom look out for me, Blond-- Steph." he said, quickly correcting himself.

Stephanie shrugged. "I told her it was you who'd gotten me to theater. All she said was not to follow your footsteps further." she grinned mischievously. "...and you still may call me Blondie. I liked having a nickname."

Jason laughed. "Ha! Yeah, I agree. I'd tell me not to follow my footsteps, too. But it would be kinda moot. Besides, this adventure is far from over, I think."

And oh, boy, was he right. Again, Tim had to give Barbara credit for somehow being able to manage the company while running an investigation under the radar.

They had eventually decided to hire Victor Sage, who had ended up interviewing Jason only with Tim present - by Jason's own consent. There was virtually no gaps from what Jason told Dr Nelson and the cops with what he'd told Sage.

Jason had recalled a few fights while he was somewhat unconscious, both involving Danny or Ellie; and Tim was certain that if Sage — or the cops, for that matter — would cross-check Jason's words against Danny or Ellie, they would corroborate the stories. Sage confirmed it a few days later, as he called with the report of having chatted with Danny and Ellie, and their mother.

What Sage brought along was the news that the local police had not come to either Danny, Ellie, or their mother. That, in Tim's mind, confirmed his suspicions that the cops would likely blame Jason for Napier's death, and blithely overlooking the underlying issue of Napier holding Jason prisoner and neglecting his injuries.

For the legal defenses, though, Barbara finally decided on Kate Spencer. Spencer, a former ADA of Gotham City before she 'crossed over to the other side' and became a Public Defender, was well known to be a ferocious defender of the wrongly accused. She was also known to flat out refuse to defend criminals or those she knew to be guilty. In spite of the numerous complaints from said criminals, she did not care, adamant on only defending the innocent.

"We need to come up with a different angle." she said when they gave her Sage's report.

"So relying on the lost street kid with daddy issue is no longer in the books?" Dick quipped.

"Definitely not. That might work for you, Grayson. But not in this case." Spencer said. "I would like your permission to dig through Wayne House's business deals." she directed the comment to Barbara.

"What are you looking for? I'm not going to forbid you from looking, just maybe I can help if I know what you're looking for." Barbara replied.

"That's what I don't know, actually. There could be something in the papers — finances, deals — that lead to Napier or, presumably, the person who wanted Napier dead. There has to be a cross in there somewhere. There is just no rhyme or reason why Napier would zoom in to Jason instead of Grayson here, for instance. Or maybe even to young Drake here - he's got some assets of his own that Napier could assimilate without much fanfare or effort."

Tim blinked as a schematic started to appear in his brain. "Oh, I think I know what you're looking for. The first question of a murder is not 'who did it', right? It's 'who benefits'." he said. "You want to see if anyone other than Napier would benefit from his own death."

Spencer glared at Tim with such intensity that Tim reflexively curled back into himself and kind of hide behind Jason. "You... I think you would've been a more beneficial hostage, but I can also see why you'll be more of an effort. You're smart..." she paused and looked at Jason. "not saying you're not, just..."

"No need to backtrack, lady, Timmy is a genius. Not smart. He'd seen a scheme from miles away even before anyone come close." Jason waved her off. They have decided on having the meeting in Jason's hospital room, and Jason was quite happy with it, he did not feel like he was being left out. But for Tim, the main reason would be the fact that Barbara has full control of all kind of surveillance devices within the hospital. If there is an anomaly - i.e. a bug or a hidden camera; she would know right away. "What scheme then, Timmers? Care to share with the rest of the class?" Jason prompted, prodding Tim to get out from behind him.

"I'm not sure yet.." Tim admitted reluctantly. "It's just... I thought it a bit-- kind of jumping the gun with the way Napier had built his scheme. He would not need to get you seen in LA's theater industry like he'd done. He would not need to make you visible in the industry, even by booking you the shows you've deemed to be small gigs. He could just get you there, and then ditch you, banking on the idea that you won't call Bruce to get you home out of shame for doing small gigs instead of 'major' LA shows." he explained.

"Even if he wouldn't call Bruce, Jay would've called me." Dick pointed out. "Or Babs, or you."

Jason nodded. "Yeah. Probably Dick, though - he owed me fifty bucks. Still owe me, actually." he said, pointedly ignoring Dick's dirty looks at him. "I'm not stupid enough to not know how to call collect." He added, maturely emphasizing his statement by sticking out his tongue at Dick. 

"Or he could've gotten you hooked to drugs or alcohol - quicker still even with you resisting." Tim pointed out. "I'm just reading out all kinds of scheme here - maybe more of the 'fallen angel' trope of Hollywood."

"I don't and won't do drugs, ever." Jason replied. Then he paused, looking at his IV line. "Okay, maybe once my pins are out, I'll stop. But this thing is prescribed." he added defensively, pointing at the IV.

"That's just saline, you only have painkillers when you go to sleep, and the next painkillers are on standby for physical therapy sessions." Barbara told him.

Jason glared at her in surprise. "What?? You mean I can ask for painkillers after physical therapies?? Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?" he demanded.

"Well, you didn't look like you need it." Barbara pointed out. "They did give you one at night, didn't they?"

"I was miserable the whole day!" Jason protested.

"Guys? Focus?" Dick groaned. "Tim was giving us his theories here."

Jason pouted, but returned his glare to Tim. "Go on. I might be persuaded with alcohol, though. But turning someone to an alcoholic can't happen overnight."

"Right. Worst case, but simpler scenario, still, he could just trafficked Jason out of the country." Tim continued. "Instead he just drugged Jason and dumped him out of the way. I'm still not... clear on why."

"I think he just wanted to destroy Bruce." Jason shrugged. "I mean, we all know who Bruce's favorite son is." he added with an waspish grin toward Dick. "And by that I mean the one Bruce would move mountains for. Taking me would not make him move mountains."

"He would, too!" Dick protested. "But, anyway. Regardless of the 'why,' you're still not answering the 'who benefits' question." Dick reminded.

"That's just it. I can't see Napier benefiting much from destroying Bruce. If he wanted fortune, he could just... collaborate, maybe?" Tim mused.

"...on Burlesque shows?" Dick scoffed. "No offense, but he should've collaborated with the Kane House for that. Not us."

"I agree," Jason nodded. "So when did Kane House asked to join again?"

"You're not expecting Kane House to..." Dick gasped.

"Oh no, no. Just curious." Jason clarified. "I mean, I've told you before I left that at this rate, the only houses that would remain in Gotham would be the Wayne and Cobblepot--"

"That's it!" Tim suddenly exclaimed, startling Dick and Jason.

"Jeez, Tim, warn a guy!" Jason retorted.

"Sorry, guys. Just... that's just it. No one would benefit if the Wayne House is destroyed but two: Kane House or Elliott House." Tim said. "Kane House had opted to join Wayne House, due to their familial ties. Elliott House?"

"Mama Elliott have been whistleblowing that she would rather merge than vanish..." Barbara said. "But her son... not so much."

"I thought Tommy Elliott is a physician?" Jason said. "Why would he care for theaters?"

"I don't know. Buuut..." Dick shrugged. "It's the most... well... plausible thing I've heard."

"Right, so we'll bookmark that theory for now and look for supporting evidence." Spencer remarked. "I need to be in court in an hour, folks, so if you'll please excuse me."

They thanked Kate and ordered some Chinese food for their dinner - even after the protests of the nurses. Hey, Jason has problems with his legs, not his tummy. And he's a growing boy. Or so Jason claimed. Plus, it's not like he wouldn't eat the hospital food, anyway. Not even the threat of gaining too much weight to hinder his physical therapy session could deter him from eating.

[jumarit38]

THROUGH TIME - CHAPTER 34

[sceawere]

another time pt. 12 | alfie solomons

[story bio + previous chapters here]

Waking up and realising you were spooning a Dalmatian rather than a gangster prompted all sorts of questions in your mind. Mainly, how the fuck did I get here? Followed quickly by, why am I so okay with this situation?

The continuing trend of men in this household snoring was one that Pickles continued, although you were happy to find that both he and his father were more subtle about it than the twins. Alfie had dropped off sometime after midnight, hand slowing and then stilling where it had been tracing through your hair.

It had taken you longer. Drifting in and out, starting when there was a bird squawk outside, or the chatter of the bargemen as they passed under the window. Every little sound was amplified and even burying yourself deep into Alfie’s side hadn’t quite settled you. Though it definitely helped. The low rumble of his breaths, the warmth of his body, the low hum as he dragged you just a fraction closer under the quilts you were buried in.

Reaching over him to check the gun was still tucked into the drawer helped even more. The thought of actually using it was still a mile away for you, but the option was comforting. Maybe it was time to assimilate a little more and ask Alfie for a lesson or two. Although, maybe not Alfie. Maybe Aaron. Not Toby. You had a feeling Toby was a sight with a gun in hand. Regardless of the teacher, if you were going to be a permanent member of the family, you needed to learn some things.

The thought came back to you as you awoke to a semi-empty bed, quilt tucked around you both. You flopped an arm over to check the pillow beside you and realised it was stone cold in the chilly morning air. Alfie must have been up a while. How that man survived on so little sleep boggled your mind. At least he hadn’t woken you as he’d risen and so maybe sharing a bed could work after all. Not that that was going to happen. Not soon.

“Lord alive, it’s like we’re fucking teenagers” you whispered into the air above you, watching the path of your breath swirl around the dust in the light beams.

Pickles whined as you sat up and you tried to tuck the quilts back down around them but they were already awake. They bounced off the side of the bed after you and followed you to the door. It had been left ajar, probably so the click wouldn’t wake you, and so they bounded off down the corridor towards the chatter at the end of the hall. You logged the voices as you turned towards the bathroom, hand stilling over the handle as you caught the conversation.

“-saying that we need to-“Aaron’s voice stalled when there was the clatter of a spoon being thrown into the sink.

“What are you saying?” Alfie questioned, tone clipped. You paused, switching your weight slowly to avoid making noise on the loose floorboard joint at the corner of the doorway.

There was a pause as he prepared his response and you wondered what they were about to argue about.

“We know nothing about her and you’re letting yourself get a little too cosy. I think that’s a mistake, boss” he kept his tone measured but it sounded more like he was holding back.

You knew Aaron hadn’t trusted you at first and had been keeping you at arm’s length since. But you thought you’d made progress. That the last few weeks, the last few days especially, had changed his estimation of you.

“You think it’s a mistake?” Alfie repeated.

“I do”

“Good job I didn’t fucking ask then, in’t it?” Alfie spat, and you heard more clattering about.

“Boss-“

“Oh, shove it. Putting a ‘boss’ before it don’t make it any more respectful. Just makes you sound like a child trying not to get told off” he spat, the chair creaking as he dropped into it.

“Fine then. Let me say this – because you don’t have me around to kiss your arse. You have me around because I do my job and I do it well, and part of that is calling you out on your shit. She’s a liability.

She’s a stranger and I don’t trust her. And I don’t understand why you do. She’s got some kind of hold over you that I don’t understand and I don’t like it”

“There’s no need to get jealous, sweetheart” Alfie joked but you could hear the anger still in his tone, rolling through each word.

“Alfie. I love you as much as I do my brother. And I have had and will have your back from the moment we met until the moment we put each other into the ground. Which is why I’m saying this. You need to wake up and see this clearly” Aaron sounded completely exasperated, frustrated by the situation, and by Alfie’s reluctance to hear him out.

“I’ve got my eyes wide open, lad. Don’t you worry about that”

“She’s sleeping in your fucking bed. It’s been what – a month and a half? She’s working in your office. She’s living in your house. She’s sleeping in your bed” Aaron listed off, emphasising each point as though he was trying a case “How can you not realise that’s too much, too soon? How can you not see-“

“You think she’s a plant?” Alfie made it clear that he wasn’t entertaining the theory.

“I think we need to find out”

“She never asked for nothing. I had to give it all. She never asked for nothing” Alfie argued, half sounding as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Aaron. He knew you. He must do. He couldn’t be doubting you, not now.

“I bet she didn’t fight you much for it though, did she?” Aaron pointed out and your stomach jumped to your throat.

There was another break and you leant against the doorframe, head resting on the painted wood. The reality of your loneliness started to creep up your spine again, a reminder that everything you had in this world was between these walls. It was fragile. It was frightening.

Both their voices were dipped, resigned. You suddenly became breathless again. What if Alfie started to doubt you? What if he started to push you out?

“No. There’s stuff you don’t know. If you knew, you’d understand” Alfie came back on side but you couldn’t settle, the thought spinning up your nerves.

“Then tell me. Come on, Alfie. When did we ever keep secrets from each other? You always said I should never go into anything without knowing twice as much as I needed to, why you holding back now?”

The front door opened and you threw yourself into the bathroom, swinging the door so you were hidden behind it. You held it just out of the frame, so it looked shut without making a sound, and waited with your breath held. It was Toby’s voice that broke through the tense silence.

“Only me! They didn’t have any at the usual so I had to go-what’s happening?”

“Your brother’s voicing his concern about our guest” Alfie explained.

“Oh. Yeah”

“Yeah” Alfie returned and you lifted your hand from the door to wipe away the tear threatening the edge of your eye.

“Hey boy” Toby perked up and you assumed he was bent over Pickles, trying to avoid the conflict. You slipped the door into the lock when the clash of cupboards started up again, dropping to the side of the tub to gather yourself.

You’d let yourself get too comfortable here. Alfie was wrong, you should have been listening to your doubts this whole time. You should have been looking out for yourself. It wasn’t his job to look out for you all the time. He was here to guide you, yes, but not guard you.

It was time to start making some real plans. Time to carve out a space of your own here. Time to stop putting off all the thoughts you’d been putting on a list to deal with another time.

You lifted yourself from your seat, swinging open the door and striding down to the kitchen. The men looked between themselves as you entered, Aaron almost guilty in his expression. You held his gaze for just a second, before turning to Alfie.

“It’s time. They need to know. We need to tell them”

[revisionaryhistory]

It’s All Art ~ 59

Oscar knew how to breath. Breathing was natural and easy. Until now.

His mind was too busy trying to assimilate the story Charlotte had just told. His emotions were muddled. He was furious at the way they’d manipulated her. Sad with how frightened she had to have been. Curious about a dozen different things. And while it was the least of what he was feeling, he was scared. After the funeral, he’d wondered if he’d be as good with her when she needed him. Although this was long over, there was something nudging at his thoughts, telling him it really wasn’t. There was a piece missing.

 Charlotte shrugged, “Five minutes later I made the only choice I thought I had. Kelsey was texting me nonstop, wanting to know what the meeting was about. I didn’t have time to breathe before I was telling the story they had concocted and my friends had me out celebrating. I went home after and cried for hours. By day I was excited and making plans. At night I was terrified and curled in ball in the corner of my bed.”

 Oscar remembered being curled in the corner of that bed. Imagining her there alone and crying ripped at his heart. He fought the urge to press on his chest, instead reaching out to slide his fingers under her hands. She hadn’t stopped playing with her fingers since she sat down. It took a few moments for her to notice he was touching her. She seemed surprised when she looked at her hands found one of his. She laced her fingers with his. Her hand had never felt so small.  He knew that was in his mind. Charlotte had told the story like it was . . . a story. She didn’t seem emotionally attached to it at all. The hurt and scared was his projection, it wasn’t there anymore for her. He tried to snap out of it, “How long before you decided “fuck them”?”

 Charlotte laughed, “Took a bit. At first it was more about laying low to see if the story held or blew up. Once I was in New York and had some distance I figured out that they’d lied and played me just as Jasper had.” She shook her head, “Oh I was pissed. Probably more at myself than anyone. I realized that the worst to happen would being expelled. The rest was bullshit. I couldn’t figure out how to avoid expulsion, so I went on with my plan to reset my life.”

 Things were falling together, pieces fitting, “The musician was Andy.” She nodded. “No wonder you freaked out when he showed up.” Another piece clicked into place, “That’s why you changed your name. Not to distance yourself, but to give them distance. To protect them.”

 “In case I fucked up again.” She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Quite silly.”

 “No.” Oscar was shaking his head, mouth open, “I’m in awe.” She quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. He squeezed her hand, “I’m serious. You were what? Twenty. You had five minutes to figure out how to handle dating a married man who told everyone you were a whore to save his own ass and a group of administrators, who should have protected you, threatening you and your family to get you to leave to save their own asses. Somehow, at twenty, you used that as an opportunity instead of drinking yourself into a stupor.” He shook his head again and chuckled, “Now you own your own business and a building, sold out a gallery show that got great reviews, and have made a wonderful life for yourself. This could have ended so differently.”

 “You left out the bit where I’m dating this amazing actor.” Her smile told him she didn’t see herself the way he did.

 “You’re the amazing one.” He cocked his head to the side, “What did your parents say?”

 Charlotte screwed up her face and shook her head, “They don’t know.”

 She’d dealt with all this without her parents’ support. He remembered that the condition was that no one found out. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to the next question to be. “Who knows?”

 “You.” She said the word like it was the simplest, most obvious answer in the world.

 Oscar closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip. He was torn between being horrified that she’d been completely alone and elation that she’d told him. He met her eyes, “Why?”

 Shrugging again, “That was the deal. No one could know. You say it was amazing that I built a new life, but I built it on a web of lies. I’m not afraid of the university taking my degree or destroying my family’s business.” She sighed out a breath, “I don’t know how I’d explain all the lies and expect them to believe my side of the story. I made them believe I was excited. I’m sure it hurt my parents when I changed my name. How could they believe me now?”

 The question was that of a trapped and scared twenty year old. There was no doubt in his mind that her parents and friends would see her choices the same way he had. Oscar wrapped his other hand around the one he was already holding and shook his head, “No, I know. I mean, why did you tell me?”

 “I’d risk all that to not have you look at me like you did tonight. The look on your face when you said I’d hurt you. I lied to protect my family and myself, but I hurt you.” Her green eyes were sad, the first emotion he’d seen from her since the story began and it was for him. Her voice was quiet but strong when she spoke, “I’m so sorry, Oscar.”

 Dropping her hand, Oscar grabbed her and pulled her against him, “You’ve got to shut up.” He let her go so he could hold her face and keep her eyes on him, “I’m sorry. I should have trusted that there was more to the story and not reacted.” She started to argue, so he silenced her with a kiss. Nothing more than a chaste press of lips. The adult Charlotte felt guilty for the decisions her child version had made. God, how he loved them both, wanted to hold and protect them. “I don’t think you lied to me. Way more complicated. But if you do . . . think that . . . I forgive you.” He kissed her again. The emotional intensity of the moment fed the kiss. Oscar groaned quietly. A slow opening and tangle of tongues pulling them away from the upheaval and back to the calmer waters of them.

 When they parted Charlotte climbed into his lap and held tight to him, burying her face against his neck “I love you.”

 Oscar whispered to her, “I love you too, baby girl.” He ran his hand down her hair to her back, “I’m sorry for what happened, but I’m happy you wound up here.” He kissed her head, “With me.” Again he was struck by how small she seemed. Only this time he didn’t think it was all in his mind. She’d crawled into his lap and curled against him, asking, maybe begging, to be held. All those years ago there’d been to no one to hold her. That’s why she felt small. She was. This wasn’t his Charlotte who knew the choices she’d made had been the best she could do at the time and pushed it behind her to get on with. The girl in his lap saw the flaws in her logic, the damage she’d done, and what she feared would happen if the truth came out. What she needed from him was to comfort one so she could get back to the other.

 “I’m proud of you.” He continued to stroke her hair and spoke in a normal voice. He wanted to make sure she heard. The time of one breath was all it took for her tears to come. Oscar felt the wetness against the skin of his neck. He held her tighter, whispering close to her ear. Stopping her tears was the last thing he wanted. He wanted a different memory than crying curled up in the corner of her room. Alone. She wasn’t alone and if he had anything to do with it, she never would be again. “Brave and strong when you were so scared.”

 Oscar was proud of her. And himself. He knew how to be with her. Not just how to love her, but when to push and when to comfort. That was love too. There were no limits. With Emma the limit had been returning to Miami and with Brooke it had been going public. With Charlotte he couldn’t think of a limit on what he’d do for her, to be with her. He felt the way his friends looked with their partners. Adam, Eric, and a few others. Proud, confident, and sure. For the first time in his life he knew everything. He’d never been here before. Hell, this is what he never knew existed, didn’t really believe in. This was what Charlotte always believed in. And she’d taught him.

 Now he understood.

 Oscar knew Charlotte was everything. He knew they were everything.

 Just like he knew how to breath.

[theseventhhex]

HDLSS Interview

Far & Wolfy

HDLSS is a “nocturnal pop” duo from Ridgewood, NY, consisting of Far and Wolfy. ‘Selections from DUMB’ is the latest release from the duo since going on hiatus in 2012. Throughout, the range within the album explores celebrating the hope that it is possible to inhabit relative truths and think independently in a fractured post-truth era. Furthermore, embracing the multiplicity of truth and inhabiting as many POVs as possible to increase empathy also plays a key factor. For Far, as a Muslim, this is a guiding principle to avoid feeling jaded, because witnessing the demonisation of Muslims everyday gets tough. Grappling with the notion of complicity and cultural apathy, ‘Selections from DUMB’ brings to light the stark perils of modern society, whilst refreshingly maintaining a thought-provoking overall stance… We talk to Far about genre-hopping, false flags and spirituality in America…

TSH: Talk us through the idea of witnessing one's own dumbing down being central for your album 'Selections from DUMB'...

Far: The core narrative of the album came more from a personal place than trying to make a political statement or anything like that. I started writing the album as I was going through a pretty transformative period, and in the wake of this period, I began examining where self-destructive impulse comes from, as well as inclinations towards groupthink/my fear of losing the ability to think for myself (and not realising it). I wanted to delve into the notion of losing your creativity, of embracing consumption more than production which I kind of equate with dumbness. Inevitably the record also has a fair bit to do with technology, including the odd effects of the rise of social media and modern anxieties. I guess I see the album as this simultaneous out of body experience where you see yourself going on this trajectory towards destruction, yet you can’t help but exist in this tunnel vision because you are too numb, dumb and tired to really understand the gravity of the long term effects, so we end up just going on autopilot, doing what the hive mind tells us to do.

TSH: The instrumentation throughout the release covers a vast array of genres too…

Far: That's something that comes naturally because Wolfy and I are not versed in any one thing. Our friendship dates back to high school, when we were both really into post-rock and in love with Sigur Ros. Our pre-HDLSS stuff was more one genre, but now we are at a point now where we are more concerned with shaping sounds no matter their origin or context, ugly or beautiful, as opposed to focusing on any one instrument, like a guitar. Musically we are capable of diving into many genres and doing our take on them, so that’s kind of what we did, and often whatever genre we were working within aides the concept or story the song tells. Basically for us any sound is fair game if we can record/produce/sample/manipulate it, which ends up stripping the normal context and creates something new and transformative. Soon instruments and genre will be obsolete.

TSH: What lead to the notable shift in your overall sound?

Far: The shift happened when we got this new recording program Abelton. Previously, we used this early 2000’s DJ program I got free on a rebate, and we embraced using broken instruments and whatever was laying around, and then we would manipulate and add effects sort of creating electronic music out of organic instruments. But, once we got Ableton, we switched over to doing everything electronically. This was both an aesthetic choice and a necessity. It definitely opened our possibilities infinitely, because suddenly we had literally every instrument that has ever existed at our fingertips virtually. And for me, it allowed me to focus on more nuanced aspects of songwriting.

TSH: How would you sum-up your lyrical expressions?

Far: I like to create some distance between myself and the writing, so the words are sometimes an exaggerated narrator’s point of view. But mainly they draw from real life, usually something conceptual or philosophical that is grounded in something experiential.

TSH: What are the origins of a track like 'Colonizer'?

Far: That track underwent quite a few changes. It started off as a trap song, but eventually it morphed into a Caribbean sound and rhythm, so we just embraced that, kind of mirroring the whole “tropical house” trend white pop music like Ed Sheeran or Bieber. The lyrics are about appropriation, it's sort of an open letter to white people that deny white guilt and privilege.

TSH: Were you intrigued to put across a song in relation to conspiracies with 'False Flag'?

Far: Yeah, I was definitely intrigued. That track came from influences of my brother, he kind of goes down the rabbit hole with that stuff. I mean there are the obvious ones like 9/11; it's almost indisputable at this point to know that there was some inside communication or knowledge of the events taking place on that day. The question of a building being able to free-fall in that manner via a plane has been widely disputed by many experts within the field. Then there are the extremes, like Sandy Hook and how it could have been crisis actors. There are all sorts of stuff and I don't know how much I buy into, but that's the point behind the song. It's not about whether it's true or not, but instead that it provokes questions and expands the narrative. After all, the truth is just a spectrum and it's very hard to find truth in the media anyway.

TSH: How did you go about forming 'Cult of Dumb'?

Far: That one is made out of samples entirely. We downloaded stems from this band we love Twin Sister posted on their site, and at first we were going to do a remix, but instead it ended up being a cover/mashup of 2 of their songs (that is actually coming out soon). I then took that file and cannibalised some of the sounds to make an entirely new song. That actually happens a lot with us where remixes turn into a new song entirely, and I end up making new vocal melodies. Making that song out of samples was intentional to reinforce the idea that no-one really owns anything, as the song is about the cult of capitalism, and how we are addicted to the things that dumb us down.

TSH: Do you very much feel that's there's a lack of spirituality in America?

Far: Yeah, for sure. I'm not necessarily critiquing Americans and I'm not really pessimistic as a person. If anything, I’ll criticise myself before I criticise someone else. But it’s something I see in myself. Growing up as a South Asian American, I was more concerned with assimilating and being accepted as an American and not being singled out as the one brown kid in school than maybe embracing my own culture as much as I should have. I moved around a lot as a kid, so it was hard to ever really fit in mostly white schools, but music definitely helped me form my identity and find like-minded people. Music brings me peace and is even spiritual for me. But now at this age when I reflect on past depression and this void that has been central to my life, I do recognise the value of religion and spirituality. I find it sad that assimilation in this country is sometimes at the cost of one’s culture/religion/spirituality. I see that in my family and how certain cultural things have been lost, which is true for any immigrant family. Maybe Americans aren't as religious because being pacified by quick fixes is the American way, but I'm guilty of that too. The lack of spirituality is a critique of my life in America too - how I've lived and how I can change that.

TSH: Did your parents growing up in Kenya impact you at all?

Far: Yeah, in some ways. Both of my parents are from Kenya, they met in England and my dad went to school in England before moving to America for graduate school. Both of them came from large families and I think placed America on this pedestal, as many people around the world do. America was a chance to change things and achieve more. So I think sometimes when immigrants come here, some are quick to embrace American ways and perceive the West as better. People growing up in post-colonial societies bring baggage of white superiority complexes. So it’s easy to come here and kind of lose the essence and spirituality because America replaces those values, and America represents this opportunity for more, and we all want to make our parents proud and achieve more due to the sacrifices they made for us to get the chance to do so. So yeah, I think in those ways it does affect me, because I am only realising now the damage done and my responsibility, and perhaps how I can try and repair some of it by learning and carrying on traditions.

TSH: What gives you most clarity in your daily life?

Far: Music is definitely my happy place. I also have a day job as a teacher and I love doing that as it provides a nice counterpoint to music. I feel music is so insular, it can be selfish and self-involved, so I love the balance of teaching and seeing a direct impact on kids.

TSH: Do you kick back and watch much TV?

Far: Yeah, I love the Adult Swim kind of stuff. I really enjoy watching Rick and Morty, Tim and Eric, those Bret Gelman specials, Moral Orel… I enjoy the absurdity side of that kind of stuff, the kind of dark humour stuff.

TSH: As you look ahead, what ideas do you have in mind for future work?

Far: Well, this is our first proper full length after taking a hiatus in 2012. The work we did back then one was more DIY and hap hazard, that first record was not really thought of as an album, therefore getting this latest record done was a huge accomplishment for us. We have made so much music that we have enough for a companion album and that's how we thought of things when we set out to make this record. We want to put out more music, still under the same 'DUMB' umbrella, as we're not done with this concept because we haven't really encapsulated the whole thing, so we have more music coming. The companion to 'DUMB' will be more personal and more narrative driven, as opposed to using genre to tell stories and concepts; I think it might be more accessible too, ha! More immediately than that companion album are two other works, one is a covers EP, and the other is a remix album. So lots to come!

Selections from DUMB

[eurolinguiste]

Welcome to this year’s 5th (jeez!) #clearthelist. 

If you’re new around these parts, #clearthelist is a linkup where we share our monthly goals, and by we, I mean myself, Lindsay of Lindsay Does Languages, Kris Broholm of Actual Fluency, and Angel Pretot of French Lover.

We’d absolutely love for you to a part of our community. You can join us by adding a link to your own goal post below.

So let’s get started, sharing our goals and motivating one another to #clearthelist!

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Last Month’s Highlights on Instagram

A post shared by Shannon Kennedy (@eurolinguiste) on Apr 21, 2017 at 11:43am PDT

Last Month’s Blog Highlights

Travel

A Tour of the Jameson Whiskey Distillery in Dublin, Ireland // I absolutely love doing this tours and learning about the history and process that goes into creating different products. Plus, when you do the tour in your target language, it’s a great learning hack!

The Royal Saltworks in France // This was a fascinating museum I had the chance to visit while in East France.

  Language Learning

10 French Books, Songs, TV Shows & Films to Help You Learn the Language // An excellent guest post from French Affliction.

A Review of LingQ // One of my (now) favourite language learning resources.

Why Games are an Important Language Learning Tool // I teamed up with Clozemaster to share just how you can use games to learn a language.

Last Month’s Goals

Continue filling the gaps in my Mandarin vocabulary I’ve noticed since Little Linguist’s arrival. // I found a really cool way to do this using LingQ and Memrise. I shared how to do it in a video as a part of my review.

Read one more language related book. // I finished that Spanish Grammar book – yay! Getting through all the rules about the subjunctive, the difference between para and por, the differences between ser and estar, and verb use exceptions was brain melting.

Keep playing Zelda Ocarina of Time in Mandarin Chinese. // Nope.

Stay ahead reading my language reading challenge books. // Sort of. I kind of did that thing again where I am in the middle of 20+ books because I’m weird like that. 

Keep working through my YouTube Queue.  // Yes! For the record, since someone asked last month, my YouTube Queue are all the ‘watch later’ videos that I saved. They range from Steve Kaufman’s updates on his 90 day Korean challenge to lessons from RussianPod101 to the Easy Languages series for Spanish, Croatian, and Russian. I currently have more than 700 videos in this queue. At one point I had it down to 400, but everyone just keeps putting out such great language learning content!

Keep reading my other Pooh Bear book in Chinese // I did, but my pace slowed down quite a bit. I only got through a few pages per week. 

Add words from Chinese readings into my Memrise Chinese deck. // Yes! Now I just need to start studying the deck. Ha.

Have something I’m reading that’s in French or Spanish. // I am still working through the books from last month, so as long as I make sure I spend time reading, this is an easy one.

Do the last 15 Pimsleur Chinese V Lessons. // Yes! I’ve officially finished all five Pimsleur Chinese courses.

This Month’s Goals

Continue filling the gaps in my Mandarin vocabulary I’ve noticed since Little Linguist’s arrival. // As long as I’m still speaking to Little Linguist in Chinese, this one is here to stay. And it will always be a priority.

Read one more language related book. // I have some ideas what this might be, but haven’t firmly decided yet.

Transcribe the dialogues from Zelda Ocarina of Time in Mandarin Chinese that I currently have saved. // Since I probably won’t play this game this month, I can, at the very least, transcribe what I’ve already saved.

Once again get ahead reading my language reading challenge books. // Because I like being on top of things.

Keep working through my YouTube Queue.  // At least one video for every day of the month. Some are as short as 30 seconds. I can manage this.

Keep reading my other Pooh Bear book in Chinese // As much as I love Pooh Bear, I’m kind of tired of it and want to work on something different. I started reading Hunger Games in Chinese with LingQ and I’d like to focus my attention on this, but I can’t when I feel guilty for not having finished this book.

Keep adding words from Chinese readings into my Memrise Chinese deck AND THEN STUDY THEM. // It’s great that I’ve been making all these lovely flashcards in Memrise, but it’s kind of silly that I haven’t started studying them. So, there’s an obvious next step for me.

Have something I’m reading that’s in French or Spanish. // I am still working through the books from last month, so as long as I make sure I spend time reading, this is an easy one. For the record, The Name of the Wind is really long, so I hope you don’t get bored with the fact I’m probably going to take months to read it.

Start to work through all those podcasts taking space on my phone. // This includes Melnyk’s, ChineseClass101, Slow Chinese, and a few other podcasts that I’ve been waiting to get to while I work through Pimsleur.

Resources I Used This Month

A quick recap on the materials I am using.

What I Am Using to Learn Chinese

LingQ – my new favourite tool, I kid you not

iTalki Lessons – I have weekly Chinese lessons

Pimsleur V 

Memrise – I do 12,000 points minimum per day (this will shift to 18,000 when I start studying my personalized Chinese deck)

ChineseClass101

Melnyk’s

Antosch & Lin email newsletters

FluentU 

DramaFever

Chinese version of the Nintendo 64

What I’m Using to Brush Up/Improve My French:

LingQ

Immersion (we speak franglais at home)

Reading books written by French authors

Listening to French radio/podcasts

Chatting with family

Watching movies and other videos in French

What I am Using to Learn Russian:

LingQ

Perfectionnement Russe

RussianPod101

iTalki Lessons

The penmanship practice books from Russian Step-by-Step (a lot of you have been asking me about these)

Memrise

Pimsleur

What I am Using to Learn Korean:

LingQ

Memrise

Assimil’s Korean Phrasebook

Pimsleur

Trial of 90 Day Korean

What I am Using to Learn Spanish:

LingQ

Lingoda (use code FM2J6Y )

Coffee Break Spanish

Schaum’s Spanish Grammar

What I’m Using for Little Linguist

Pooh Bear and Baby Bear

Little Pim

Finding Dory

YouTube

Day-to-day interaction

His Chinese lullaby is from Mantou Riji, I also sing him “You are my Sunshine” in Chinese, and his French is Une Souris Verte

Flashcards from Tuttle

The Biggest Lesson I Am Taking Away from This Month

  Studying with a baby can be fun. I get to practice speaking by reading to him out loud in the different languages I’m learning. It’s interesting to see which languages he doesn’t like the sound of (or maybe just my accent) and which he does. 

The performance aspect of it also adds an interesting dynamic to when I just read aloud on my own. Finding the time to learn a language with a little one can be tough – they need attention (and deserve it!) so finding the time to focus for long periods has been pushed back to after bedtime (if I still have the energy for it). It’s forced me to be pretty creative with how I study and try out things that I wouldn’t have before he joined us. 

There are some things I miss about how I learnt before, but I wouldn’t change any of it. Honestly. 

Don’t forget that I would love to hear all about your goals for this month! Please join us by adding your post to the linkup below! 

Clear The List Linkup Rules:

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