#she was able to be tethered to social reality

[trappedinafantasy37]

All forms of media (video games, TV shows, art, movies, books, etc) are all meant to be social and/or political commentaries. In fact, I can't think of an example of a recent creation that isn't political in some way. And Baldur's Gate 3 is not an exception. It is political. And if you think it is not, it is because you are not paying attention, or you are failing to extrapolate the lessons of the game into real life. One of the points of fiction and entertainment is to provide us with a safe way to view and interact with the evils of the world. To show us how evil happens to begin with, and how it is allowed at all. If we can see what evil looks like, and how it comes to pass, then we will be able to recognize it in real life and potentially stop it.

No, I'm not saying that Larian made this game to be a commentary of the US specifically. The things that happen in the game are happening somewhere in the world. Right. Now. It is fantasy for some, but reality to many others.

There is a reason why so many people, most especially women, flock to a character like Astarion. And no, it's not just because he's a pretty bad boy vampire. But because millions of women (and men) in the world understand what it's like to be sexually assaulted. To be enslaved. To be someone's property and a toy. To be used and abused and denied your autonomy. To scream and cry and yell and shout and beg for mercy from the gods. But no one is listening. No one cares. And they say that it is all your fault. Women cling to him because they find comfort in his story and they see a reflection of themselves in him. And they have extrapolated his character into their personal lives to help them heal from their traumas. Astarion is not real. But he represents the millions of people in the world who have been raped.

There are many different ways you can interpret Shadowheart's story, but I always found it to be an allegory for queerness / transness. She knows who she is deep down, but she has been beaten and indoctrinated over and over to believe that who she is wrong. Everytime she exerted a will of her own, she was forced into conversion therapy and had her mind wiped so she can be reprogrammed. And when that began to fail, her god inserted a permanent tether into her soul. To remind her that god is always watching, and will punish her for her sins. Shadowheart rejects Shar because she feels that she is in a safe environment to do so. That those who are around her will not judge her, ridicule her, or treat her like she ha a moral failure for just being who she is. But that rejection comes at a price where she has to choose her parents or chronic pain for the rest of her life. But if Shadowheart does not feel safe to live as herself, she goes into the closet forever and denies herself and has to put up an act for as long as she may live. She forces herself to subscribe to this dogma because she feels she has no other choice, and to be a blind follower means to be without pain. Shadowheart is not real. But she represents the millions of gay and trans people in the world who have been outcasted and abused by religion and the law. Where they feel it safer to deny who they are, then run the risk of the wrong person finding out who they love.

The grove conflict, is a very real reality right now. Innocent people are experiencing a genocide. And the people conducting such genocide have framed these innocent people as evil monsters. These actual literal genocidal lunatics truly to their core believe that they have the god given right to kill these innocent people because they are an affront to their god and that the land they occupy does not belong to them. There are children in the world right now who are burning alive in a genocide because the people who are burning them believe these children to have been born evil. Of course they claim that these refugees are hiding weapons of mass destruction, how else are they going to justify destroying safe places like schools, hospitals, and actual refugee camps? And the people who have the power to do something to protect these innocent refugees, would rather they be tossed out and left vulnerable to their murderers, because that is more convenient than helping them. That the people who can help are purposefully closing their borders, because they too see these refugees as lures for danger. The tieflings are not real. But they represent the millions of Palestinians and many others who are dying in a genocide right now.

And this man is not real, but he is the president elect of the United States. Gortash won. The Absolute won.

And I wish we had a simple and easy explanation of 72 million Americans have tadpoles in their brains and were forced to vote for Gortash. But in reality, not everyone in the Absolute had a tadpole. Not everyone was a True Soul. A mass majority were willing participants of the Absolute. They never once communed with the elder brain and have never received direct orders from it. They saw what the Absolute is, they saw what it can do, and it was not a deal breaker for them. They chose to follow along with it willingly, thinking that the Absolute was here for them. They were not mind controlled, but they were brainwashed in their own way. And for those who are not brainwashed, they simply do not care. They want to revel in the Absolute's cruelty and how it is going to hurt the people of the world because they themselves want to deal the cruelty.

Gortash is a slaver and a tyrant and he is very up front and in your face about it. He feels no guilt, he feels no shame, and he is well aware of how he induces suffering on those around him. And the moment he became Archduke, he slaughtered everyone who got him into power because he didn't want to share it nor run the risk of them turning against him. You may be able to make a deal with Gortash but he was never going to keep up his end of the bargain. Just like an embraced Durge betrays their romance partner, Gortash would have betrayed you (and even Durge). Because tyrants do not share, and they do not step down. Tyrants are not just tyrants only on day one or for just one term. They are tyrannical always and will do everything they can to stay in power permanently. Tyrants do not play fair. They get into power through perceivingly legitimate means. But when you find out it wasn't legitimate, it's too late. They've removed your ability to not only remove them from power, but prevent you from getting anyone else to replace them.

Gortash didn't just come from nowhere. He has been a duke in the city for a very long time. People know who he is and what he is about. The people at his coronation were there out of genuine support for him, knowing exactly who he is and saw no issue with what he was doing because they all benefited from it. The only one at that coronation who was not a willing participate, was Ulder Ravengard (A BLACK MAN). Gortash used a literal puppet government to get himself into power and silenced all dissent.

I do not know about you, but who Gortash represents was pretty damn obvious to me. The game demonstrated how people like Gortash can get into power at all and remain in power. Gortash manipulated people's fear of the world, and he used religion to do it. He implemented the Steel Watch and militarized the police, and to have constant surveillance on the people. Where any slight transgression will be met with hostility, and the people will cheer because they see violence as a necessary means of keeping the peace. Where if you just didn't step out of line, then maybe the Steel Watcher wouldn't need to pulverize you in the street. He uses the media and is constantly pumping out propaganda to love him. He created a problem, news of the problem spread, and then he sold a solution. He promised to keep everyone safe, protected, and made promises of law and order against this unruly chaos (a chaos he created). Where any opposing opinion is othered and regarded as being too radical to be a sane or legitimate opinion. He enslaved a group of racial minorities and used the livelihoods of their children as collateral. And instead of putting the blame on the slaver, radicals like Wulbren put the blame on the slaves.

The events surrounding Gortash and the Absolute have been unfolding here in the States for a very long time and all of this did not just come out of nowhere. This didn't just start happening 8 years ago in 2016, this was decades in the making and there is still plans for more to come. This wasn't an accident, everything is working by design.

Gortash is not real. But Donald Trump is. That should scare you.

[romanthroughthefield]

okay so it wasn’t my next post but whatever-

Why Something To Believe In is Actually a Good Song (Contrary to Popular Belief):

disclaimer: i’m not a media analyst or whatever i’m just a person with an opinion (and the delusional idea that i know jack kelly better than anyone)

1. first things first i genuinely think that alan menken is a genius composer. how could i not? he has created some of the most influential scores in modern day cinema. regardless of your opinion on the song place in newsies i think that looking at the chord progression, lyrics, and instrumentals you have to admit that it is a nice song to listen to.

2. addressing some issues people have with jatherine i think a lot of the issues people have with this song come from the pre-conceived notion that their relationship was “rushed” or built on “jack being a creep” which i simply just don’t agree with. possibly a side tangent but don’t come a knockin’ doesn’t make jack out to be a creep it simply states that he participates in hookup culture. a line in which he literally laughs while singing. jack and katherine have a very flirty and joking relationship up until this point and not once did i read into this as katherine being uncomfortable. jack finds katherine as an equal, a match for his wit and humor. this is the first girl he’s ever felt a deeper connection with. he is literally in disbelief that a “girl like her could ever wind up with a guy like him.” the song only further deepens their relationship. they state that the love that they have discovered here is new for them. it doesn’t mean that their madly in love, i mean they’re teenagers, it just means that they love each other and what they brought into each others lives. it’s “rushed” if you people that this song is a confession of deep love which i simply just don’t think it is.

4. a deeper look into what believing means “jack already had something to believe in! he had the newsies” “katherine had herself and her career.” people like to deny it but jack didn’t like his life before the strike. it wasn’t because of the newsies of course but can you really think that stealing food and clothes for the boys he cares about in the lodging house was his endgame for him? that’s why he had santa fe, so he could dream. his “something to believe in” was a dream not a reality.

when katherine comes along that is his first tether to reality. they can change the way new york is run. this doesn’t have to be his life anymore. now his “something to believe in” was a reality in front of him not just a dream that would save his crushing reality of not being able to care for his boys properly.

same thing goes for katherine in the sense that her career was finally “busting out of the social pages” until she immediately got shot down. her father’s pressure was not her end goal, she wanted to make a career for herself but was denied it. when jack arrives and she finally gets a story to run with and the courage to change the way that new york is run she discovers her “something to believe in.” jack and katherine each awaken something in each other, they each believe in each other. i mean that is literally said in the song but it goes deeper than just their love for each other, they literally have changed each others lives.

4. from a composers point of view: something to believe in gets no hints/preludes/reprises/playoffs or anything of the sort which the entire rest of the album does (except thats rich im pretty sure but thats completely different). point is any number that jack or katherine sing in up to this point has either already been lamented again or will be in the future. something to believe in stands alone in its present, it is literally the time frane that jack wishes he could freeze. it is a singular moment in which their unique situations come together. before they kiss in the song jack ends his longer phrases with a stagnant note. after his kisses her the notes at the ends of his phrases climb up. from a strictly technical point of view he literally rises up because of katherine believing in him.

idk i didn’t proof read this let me know if it makes sense

[sugarsnappeases]

what’s ur fav marauders era ship?

i mean of course the answer is quillkiller always and forever but i've been pondering sybillily a bit today so please allow me to hit you some thoughts <3

the main thing that's been sticking w me today is the way they're kind of opposites in the way they connect w the world around them but w each other this can be complementary and sort of balanced out.

like w lily, she's so in tune to what other people think and the expectations that they might have of her and the way that she is Perceived and she uses this to make herself into something Perfect and something that fits onto the pedestal that she's been put on, in a way that i think makes her a lot less able to Define herself and what she wants and who she is when she isn't operating within these bounds that other people have imposed on her (and that she has then perpetuated bc it's easy and comfortable and she knows how she's meant to behave when she follows these rules even if she can't quite ignore the itch to break out of those bounds).

sybill on the other hand has no conception of these things, she can't anticipate people's thoughts and reactions in the way that lily does and she doesn't think before she speaks or even try much at all in her social interactions, she's clumsy w her words, tactless, telling people that she's seen them die bc she's trying to help them avoid that fate but not clocking at all how that could be a horrifying thing to hear, how that could be something that's easier to ridicule than actually properly listen to. and the way she functions is kinda boundless in that it slides so smoothly between her dreams and her visions and her mind and actual reality that she also struggles to fully define herself and tether herself to anything absolute.

but i think together they can find a bit of a middle ground. bc sybill has no expectations for lily, she doesn't have any pre-made notions of what lily should say or do or be, doesn't try to project anything onto her. she lets lily exist in this kind of boundless space with her. but at the same time, lily is something absolute, something who exists fully and tangibly and she can kinda bind sybill more fully into reality with her, ground her, she's so vividly and brightly Alive and Present that she can help sybill to connect just by being there.

like idk i just think they complement each other so nicely. i think this idea of the way they interact w the world around them and the way this is affected by their relationship w each other is at the crux of all of the aus i have about them, especially for sybill, bc she's kinda more malleable as a person so she's naturally more affected by the sort of unrestrained, altering nature of their love. also there's something to be said about the both of them and the idea of Responsibility that i won't go into here bc this is already super long....

[miliamin1]

Stubborn, single minded and obsessive (15176 words) by miliamin Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Wednesday (TV 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair Characters: Wednesday Addams, Enid Sinclair Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - High School, nevermore is not a boarding school alright, Autistic Wednesday Addams, Enid Sinclair Has ADHD, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Underage Drinking, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst Summary: After a full school year Enid can’t really call it a hyperfixation. Or a simple crush really. But falling for an anti-social girl means that the two months of summer break will be enough of a strength test on these feelings to either get rid of them or solidify it as ‘love’, dooming Enid for an unrequited high school cliche. If only Wednesday didn’t develop a sudden habit for window break-ins demanding favors.

First chapter excerpt:

The first time Enid fell in love was during AP Calculus class. Starting at a math quiz even. One of many that year. This teacher loved to give five minute quizzes out of nowhere with so little time being justified by the fact that it was multiple answer papers. Real chance of passing by just guessing. 

There was no chance of passing if just looking at the questions made you freeze and lose all semblance of thought. So little time. So many of those failed already. Enid was screwed. Mom found one with a big red F on them and yelled at her for hours. How she needs to pass all of her AP classes with better grades. How she’s always a disappointment. How she needs to stop being a failure. How she needs to get better. 

There was no getting better when her brain started to swim instead of thinking. Words and numbers jumbling together and not making sense, ticking of the clock speeding up impossibly. 

TICKTICKTICKTICKTICK. 

She could never do anything properly. 

Never.

Never.  

Never. 

Air was heavy and moving sluggishly out of her, requiring all energy spent on getting it in and out. Not enough oxygen. Even her lungs were failing to do their job. Her mouth completely dried up. Her heart beat so fast it hurt.  She felt as if she could fall down any moment. But she couldn’t move. Only clutch at her pen and be stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The test paper slid away from her. Of course the time was up and she failed already. Of course-

The paper moved only slightly to the left and a tan hand deftly picked up the pen from her hand. Quickly filling out boxes and then moving the quiz back in front of her. Cold fingers moving up from her wrist, pressing on the muscles to relax so a pen can be put back into the nearest hand of the owner.

Enid instead tried to hold onto them. With all her strength. They squeezed back, tightly and repositioned them under the desk.

Wednesday didn’t try to free herself the whole rest of class. Even after Enid's breath evened out. Or to be able to write with her usual right hand. Enid felt guilty because it wasn’t like her dominant being free meant she wrote anything. She was so exhausted all she could do was examine the blue veins, tiny scars and manicured black nails on the tether that kept her still in this world. The coldness of the skin made reality easier to latch onto. 

She was too exhausted to remember that Wednesday never needed to write down that many notes. Not until the ripping sound of paper got accompanied by being given instructions of extremely dumb downed new formulas and how to use them in a question. 

She only noticed she’s crying when she noticed wet marks discoloring the black ink. But  they were so far from being caused by pain. Blissful feeling in her chest, making breathing easy, fed on gradually disappearing coldness of skin. Like it needed it more than oxygen. Her neck tensed as she tried really hard to not look at the girl beside her and risk her crying to become noticeable beyond the stray tear or two. The feel of her firm touch was so sweetly overwhelming enough as it was. Eye contact would make her fall apart in the opposite direction.

By the end of the period their hands achieved thermal equilibrium and Enid’s heart learned a new beat.

[krihmuh]

"Exploring the Depths of Humanity: Unraveling Jordan Peele's 'Us'"

It is almost impossible to forget the other mind-bending cinematic gem that Jordan Peele gifted his audience in 2019 – "Us." This psychological horror flick was an invitation to dive deep into its chilling narrative and unearth the hidden layers that resonate with our deepest fears and societal schisms. "Us" isn't your run-of-the-mill horror movie; it's a dark, thought-provoking mirror reflecting the human condition in all its eerie glory. So, let's get into it and dissect this enigmatic thriller. 

In Jordan Peele's "Us," the theme of isolation reverberates throughout the storyline, creating an eerie and unsettling atmosphere that lingers long after the credits roll. The Wilson family, our protagonists, find themselves isolated both physically and metaphorically, thrust into a nightmare where they face their own doppelgängers, the Tethered. This physical isolation, occurring in the form of a home invasion, is intensified by the fact that the Wilsons' attackers are twisted versions of themselves. This duality accentuates the feeling of isolation, as they are essentially confronting their own darkest fears and suppressed identities, mirrored in the form of their adversaries.

Metaphorically, the theme of isolation expands beyond the Wilson family. The Tethered, living beneath the surface of society, unseen and forgotten, represent the isolated and marginalized segments of the population. Their existence in labyrinthine tunnels beneath the ground echoes their isolation from the world above, illustrating a profound social divide. Jordan Peele dives deep into the theme of social isolation in "Us." Take Jason, for instance. He stands out not just because he's a unique character but also because of his neurodiversity, which sets him apart from the rest. Jason’s neurodivergent superpower is the reason why he is the only one able to control his doppelganger. He was the first to recognize the Tethered as a copy of themselves and knew without a doubt at first glance! And then there's that not-so-subtle moment with Umbrae and her white vacation friends at the beach. Remember that super awkward exchange they had about why she wouldn't get into the water? It is obvious to those that get it, she just had her hair permed, and getting in the water would reverse that. Her friends obviously didn't know that, nor understood, and just thought she was being lame or a party pooper at the end of the day. Peele masterfully inserts these moments as subtle nods, skillfully illuminating the profound social chasms that separate the characters. These instances are far from arbitrary; they represent Peele's meticulous craft, unveiling the multifaceted layers of isolation. His storytelling prowess prompts us to delve into the intricate nuances of human connection, urging us to contemplate the subtle yet impactful barriers we inadvertently construct. With an expert touch, Peele invites us to navigate the complexities of these relationships, encouraging thoughtful introspection about the intricacies of social isolation and the intricate webs of human interaction.

The theme of privilege is woven into the intricate fabric of the storyline as well, unveiling the disparities and entitlements that exist within society. The Wilson family, particularly the matriarch Adelaide, represents a middle-class African American family vacationing in a beach house, blissfully unaware of the horrors that await them. The family's initial privilege lies in their economic stability, allowing them the luxury of a vacation, shielded from the harsher realities faced by marginalized communities. Privilege, taken in the form of money, can definitely cause a separation or distance between you and where you started/came from.

As the film progresses, the concept of privilege becomes more nuanced. When the Tethered, their doppelgängers, emerge from the shadows, it becomes apparent that the Wilsons are not just facing a physical threat but also a metaphorical one. The Tethered, living in darkness and suffering, embody the neglected and oppressed members of society, devoid of the privileges enjoyed by their counterparts above ground. They are forced in the tunnels while real humans are given the privilege to live their own lives, despite the occasional feeling of isolation. Peele uses the concept of the tethered to remind us that people have had to, and have, suffered in order to enjoy the privilege we currently have, whether that literally points to those who are less fortunate, or to people like our parents, our ancestors or people in our past lives that have had to “walk so we can run” so to speak. The contrast between the Wilsons and the Tethered serves as a stark reminder of the systemic inequalities that persist, illustrating how societal privilege shields some from the struggles faced by others.

"Us" transcends the boundaries of a typical horror flick; it's an intricate tapestry woven with threads of psychological depth, societal intricacies, and the enigmatic facets of the human soul. Jordan Peele skillfully peels away the layers of fear and suspense, exposing the raw essence of our existence. It's like he hands us a mirror and challenges us to confront the complexities within ourselves, encouraging us to shatter the self-imposed chains that bind us.

[maddymoreau]

Dead Space Live-Blog COMPLETE

Chapter 12: Dead Space

Part 1-4: Click Here Part 5: Click Here Part 6: Click Here

Part 7: Click Here Part 7: Click Here Part 8: Click Here

Part 9: Click Here Part 10: Click Here Part 11: Click Here

This entire game I thought Nicole was Isaac's wife, turns out she's his (ex?) girlfriend. Which should've been obvious to me since they have different last names. I just thought she kept her last name for work.

Early into playing Dead Space, I accidentally saw a spoiler online that said Elizabeth Cross was pretending to be Nicole. So I thought Elizabeth was part of the Hive Mind and making Isaac hallucinate Nicole to manipulate him into returning The Marker.

Turns out Isaac does hallucinate that Elizabeth is Nicole, but that's in the 2023 remake. Elizabeth was killed by Dr. Mercer in the original 2008 version (what I'm playing). In the remake, Isaac isn't the only person hallucinating that someone else is a different person. Elizabeth mistakes Isaac for Temple. This is because The Marker is making both of them hallucinate this.

In the original 2008 version The Marker is only making Isaac hallucinate that Nicole is there. When, in reality, Isaac is interacting with nothing. The Marker used Isaac's love for Nicole to manipulate him into returning The Marker to the planet. The Marker is sentient.

Nicole is already dead, she killed herself. Isaac was like Dr. Kyne, believing the love of his life was still alive and being pushed into returning The Marker.

I forgot to mention this last time, but The Marker is larger than I imagined it would be. Its design is also very beautiful.

I can see why someone would worship it:

I thought it was small because of what Nicole said: "It's strange...such a little thing."

However the second part to that message makes more sense: "In the end, it all comes down to just one little thing . . . I didn't want it to end like this. I really wanted to see you again...just once. I loved you. I've always loved you."

When The Marker was returned it started glowing. This flash caused the gravity tethers that are holding the large piece of the planet above to become disabled.

Kendra returns, reveals my wife was dead the whole time, that The Marker tricked me AND TAKES THE MARKER!!!! She was going to steal my shuttle with The Marker and abandon me AGAIN!!!

YESSS BEAT HER ASS!!!!!!!

This cutscene was SO SATISFYING!!!! Kendra earlier saying that this entire system can go to hell and being killed by essentially the manifestation of her poor decisions in the most graphic way *chef kiss*.

This boss fight reminded me of Majora's Mask.

From what I understand since Isaac wasn't able to properly return The Marker. It’s forcing a grieving Isaac to experience horrific hallucinations of Nicole because it's upset it wasn't returned.

I’m sorry I failed Dr. Kyne 😭💔

I didn't expect this game to end on a cliff hanger!! I'm so happy I already have the second game. I'll probably start playing that in a few weeks, but I'm not sure if I'll live-blog it.

Beating the game gives you bonus datalogs. I'm not going to summarize everything in them because they're extremely long.

However I will write what I found interesting:

The Markers are named based off their color. The one discovered on earth is called the Black Marker. While the one made by the government is called the Red Marker.

The government did assassinate Michael Atlman. He was holding conferences to inform the public about The Markers. After his murder the Church of Unitology was formed. It became a big social movement with many riots.

The Church of Unitology requires members to donate their bodies after death. These bodies are held in stasis storage tubes within deep-space vessels.

The Church of Unitology performs something called "soul cleansing" on its members.

Poul Clarke: Isaac's father a Galactic Union Marine Corporal who left Isaac when he was four years old for an extended off-world tour. His father's service record has been mysteriously classified by an executive order.

Isaac was inspired by his father and pursued engineering. He tried to re-unite with his father for years, but was unsuccessful.

Octavia Clarke: Meanwhile after his father left for work, Isaac's mother's mental health issues got worse. Doctors encouraged her to find fulfillment doing charity. That is where she was approached by the Church of Unitology and joined. She gives them all her money and has managed to purchase a Vested-level title.

I'm VERY curious if Isaac’s father and mother will impact future games or if this is simply fun lore.

Altman worked for the government: "Altman's hasty expulsion from the project is unfortunate."

The code we see throughout the game may have been written by Atlman: "What notes we have recovered appear to be written in a code of his devising.”

They moved the Red Marker to Aegis VII to keep it outside the reach of the oversight committees (unsure who they are).

Where the name Dead Space comes from: "As it turns out, the field generated by the Marker creates a "dead space" around itself that forces the recombination effect into dormancy."

[aspenlovesmedia]

So, who are the main cast of the Luna Stone series?

Luna is of course the protagonist. She spends her childhood being raised among humans, every so often catching glimpses of the magical world, yet any signs dissapear quickly, that is until her last few weeks of Primary School, where she accidentally starts a fire and discovers she’s a sorcerer. Her mother (Andrea Stone) is a sorcerer, however she married a human, and due to that it was never guaranteed that Luna would ever end up being able to control magic. As she is half human, she needs to have her magic awakened, as humans are unable to see or use magic at all, which also means Andrea has to get involved in the magical world once more, something she hoped she’d never have to do again.

Luna is a huge nerd and has always been fascinated by mythology. Of course she never believed it was actually real until she accidentally discovered her own magical abilities. She’s very head strong and passionate about her interests, and while she has a good heart, she doesn’t really have any friends. From a young age she was considered weird for her extreme and specific interest, and the fact she celebrated Yule and Ostara rather than Christmas and Easter didn’t help. When she starts at Peregrine’s Academy of Magic, she hopes she can maybe actually make some friends as after all, she may be new to the whole magic thing, but she does know a lot about myths and legends already.

Willow Redwood comes from a very long line of sorcerers, which under normal circumstances would be hugely beneficial to her social standing, however, a family blood curse means the Redwoods are thought to be dangerous. In reality the curse only affects its host, and leads to symptoms like chronic pain, and difficulty in using magic. Willow is used to people being afraid of her and that’s why she prefers to be in the company of animals. As a druid, she was born with the ability to understand them, and unlike other sorcerers, they don’t judge her based on a curse she was born with. She lives with her father (August Redwood) as her mother died from the curse when Willow was 4. She’s very close to her dad, even if he is overprotective at times.

Khumo Graves has the rare ability to see ghosts. Ghost sight runs in his family, so seeing the souls of the dead that are still tethered to the Earth is a very normal occurrence for him. In fact, Khumo gets on better with the dead than with the living. Talking to ghosts is easy, talking to alive people is complicated. He struggles with severe anxiety and is very quiet because of this. He has a hedgehog familiar named Spindle who has red spines across their back. Spindle was manifested mainly to support Khumo, who from a young age suffered from anxiety attacks. He is a huge history nerd, and plans on becoming a warden (someone who works with the Collection, a library with the blood memories of people. This is not as morbid as it sounds I’ll do a whole post on this later) when he’s older. He often wishes he had the confidence of his younger sister, Naledi (often called Nali) who isn’t afraid to tell anybody what she thinks.

And that’s the main trio! There’s a lot more I can say on these guys, but this is already a long post. I hope you enjoyed getting some more information on these guys. I’ll be doing more lore posts soon.

[mostspecialgirl]

oc rambling - angelo edition

i often forget how much fun it is to write the insiders in serious scenarios because dear god did i ever make angelo my perfect little mentally ill hater man with a completely crooked view of social interaction. i always love setting him up as the straightman for angora doing some ridiculous shit but outside of that angora is always the one who had to tether angelo to reality when he gets left alone for too long. like. He came back to life and killed his girlfriend after she murdered him. And the only “reconciliation” he got was isolating himself from the world and imposing some kind of higher-than-himself duty upon himself as penance. when his only friend finds him again the two of them have grown too far apart to have the kind of understanding they used to. embryophyte has to tie him down with excuses in order to even keep him around the vicinity of sundown

He’s the only insider who really was “just some guy” and yet due to his lived experiences he’s the one out of them who is the least in touch with his humanity. it’s practically the whole reason he’s an insider to begin with, he’s lost any personal attachment he had to the physical world after his first death and thinks the insiders project is enough of a “higher calling” for him to remain among them. really his whole arc as a character should be about reconciling with his trauma but the only person who gets him is too emotionally immature to help him despite their best efforts. I think he’s a really interesting character.

despite serving as a positive mentor to virgil in Sundown, in a lot of ways angelo really serves as a picture of what virgil realistically can, and shouldn’t become. he’s practically dark mirror of virgil’s future and that’s why virgil likes and trusts him so much without realizing he shouldn’t be idolizing his lifestyle. neither of them really realize. it’s only when virgil is raised up by those he trusts, the support system that angelo lost and lacks, that virgil was able to become a person fitting of saving sundown, and very ironically by wielding a weapon of angelo’s only made complete by the willingness to grow that Virgil still has.

taking things back to insiders you probably wouldnt pick up on any of this about his character from the material ive posted that this man is deeply fucked up. He’s too busy shaking his fist at angora which really is what starts to humanize angelo again without him even realizing it. tanith and amph have angelo read like a book, but due to who they are don’t really take much to any issue with angelo’s self image. AMPH who honestly doesn’t see much issue holding his mentality of “i’d love to help but only if you’re willing to be honest with me and already sort of understand your issue” to anyone but mila and all doesn’t get involved and Tanith just doesn’t think anythings there to help with because she’s been in the same place before but “got out fine on her own” (she didnt) and that “mortals have a lot more emotional intelligence than i did” (dear god help the poor man) finds no need to reach out either. (For those interested inseeing more of angelo and tanith be sure to check out INSIDERS: Reckless, available exclusively on my iphone in my house!!!)

angelo gets better though. i dunno how i want to fit thornhill into a proper timeline yet though so maybe no one will be seeing any of that for a while. thornhill angelo visible at the top of this post

[acaifike]

emotional bruises ! choi yeonjun

“you are a confused man child who does not know what he wants. don’t sit up here, storm into my life and confuse me”

“valeria i wasn’t. i just. i’m so sorry”

“you can’t keep doing this to me. you’re killing me”

cast — choi yeonjun , txt , black fem oc !

genre — [f] fluff, [c] crack, [a] angst, [s] smut, mutual pining au !

rated — NC-17

synopsis — to the outside world, choi yeonjun and valeria anderson had nothing to do with one another. on two complete opposites of the social spectrum, yeonjun was the man everyone either wanted or wanted to be while valeria was the ambiverted mystery only a few were able to crack. little did everyone know about their strange tether to each other. like clock work the boy would show up unannounced in the womans apartment, spend two even three weeks at a time with the girl making her ideal life with him a reality until he stripped it away  randomly returning whenever he deemed fit. it was a weird process happening as often as once every three weeks. it drove her crazy but she couldn’t let the man go

or alternatively;

in which valeria refuses to walk away from the confusing cycle she experiences with yeonjun.

[shadowmayura]

I didn’t think I’d be doing this, but it’s gotten to the point where some things have to be said.

Someone from my past has been making vagueposts about me lately and I can’t allow it to go unaddressed any longer. They are disingenuous and at times downright false, and they imply a certain type of relationship that simply did not exist.

If at this point you don’t know exactly who and what I’m talking about, please scroll by. I’m not going to be mentioning her by name and I’m not here to drag additional people into this big mess. This is solely to address any misconceptions for those who have already seen this person’s posts and are left confused by the strange phrasing and missing information.

(TW: harassment, emotional abuse, stalking, vomit)

This person and I met online in the spring of last year. Soon after, she confessed to me that she had a crush on me. I wasn’t interested for a variety of reasons (distance, not knowing her very well, and a lack of attraction on my end) and I gently let her down but suggested that we could still be friends. At no point did I promise a romantic relationship with this person.

We got to know each other better as friends. For a while, it was genuinely fun. I did not harbor any romantic feelings but I did enjoy being her friend. But in the summer, we began to spend more time together, and that’s where it started to go wrong. In reality, it was gradual, but it felt very sudden because the realization that things had changed came all at once. Her flirting had become a lot more aggressive and she was implying to other people that there was something between us. Playful teasing had turned to something far more demanding, and we were talking to each other nonstop, up to 10 hours per day every single day. When I realized how drastically our interactions had changed, I tried to pull back. I became very uncomfortable with how much couple-like behavior had emerged on her side when I did not want to be in that kind of relationship.

My decision was met with a lot of resistance. She was upset at me that I wanted to cut back on the amount of one-on-one time spent together, and she also was upset when I took a week-long break from Discord as a whole. We had our first argument over this. I thought we reached an understanding, but at the end of the conversion, she expressed her need for significant quality time between us, leaving me feeling like I hadn’t been heard at all. It’s worth noting that I hadn’t cut her out entirely at this point. We were still talking almost every day, but we weren’t on voice chat for hours on end any longer. I just wanted interactions that were closer to a normal friendship rather than a romantic relationship that I had never consented to.

It got worse leading into fall. The flirting continued and escalated. She drew “friendship portraits” of the two of us with strong romantic undertones. As she continued to push, I drew back. She didn’t like this. I was met with passive aggression when I tried to set boundaries and put a comfortable distance between us.

September is where it reached a head. On September 17th, she coerced me into a video chat that essentially served as an intervention for my choice. I had a bad feeling going into it, but she insisted that we video chat rather than text chat. I reluctantly agreed under her false pretense that it would be a conversation solely about fandom matters, but within 5 minutes, she was crying on video. I became very uncomfortable and I continued to look at a document on my computer so she could compose herself. She calmed down, but as soon as I claimed to be done looking at it, she turned the crying on again.

For about an hour, I was berated. She was crying and yelling, not allowing me to get a word in edgewise. She was, once again, very upset with me that I had been pulling away from her. I desperately wanted to leave the call, but I knew that there’d be hell to pay later if I did. I forced myself to sit through the whole thing. When she was done, I was shaking. She expected me to speak but I was unable to form words for several minutes and I was additionally berated for not saying anything, even though I had already been cut off many times. When I was able to pull myself out of the state I was in, I told her that our interactions had become far too romantically-focused for my comfort and that I didn’t want her to flirt with me anymore. I then ended the conversation as quickly as I could.

I vomited several times after we hung up and was shaking for hours. I couldn’t sleep that night. A few days later, I lost clumps of hair. It is stress-induced alopecia areata that I’m still receiving treatment for. I don’t say any of this to garner sympathy, but I want to emphasize that this was not a conversation that I look back on fondly. It was traumatic. This unfortunately is relevant later.

At this point, it is safe to say that I did not want to associate with this person any longer, but this was not an option for me. There were fandom commitments that tethered us together, and I knew I’d have to weather out the storm. If I didn’t, I would tear friend groups apart, drop commitments that I cared a lot about, and potentially ruin both of our reputations in the community.

I tried to maintain some distance without angering her significantly, but it was all downhill from here. She continued to disrespect my boundaries and push me romantically. Flirting occurred less commonly in private chats since I would shut it down, but in public spaces, she continued to flirt with me, and I felt pressured to allow it in order to avoid awkwardness in group settings.

Her romantic interest turned into obsession. She became fixated on my Tumblr posts and Discord statuses, accusing me of referencing her when this was seldom the case. Jealousy arose about my friendships with other people. She didn’t trust me to make my own decisions with my friendships and disrespected my decisions when I made them. There was also a huge increase in emotional manipulation and guiltbaiting. Whenever calm and rational criticism of her behavior was given to her, she would exaggerate and call herself a terrible person so that the criticism would be dropped in favor of coddling and comforting her. It was impossible to bring up serious issues without her playing the victim.

She also became increasingly hard to deal with in a team environment. I often felt as if I was being disciplined for not loving her in return. My ideas were constantly nitpicked and shot down. I was condescended to. I began to feel unwelcome in group spaces because of these behaviors. I felt like she was pushing me out of public spaces in hopes that I would flee to private ones, though I tried to avoid that as much as possible.

In November, a flip switched. The romantic harassment almost entirely vanished and all her interactions with me became unkind. In some ways, it was refreshing because the worst of the stalking subsided, but the hostile environment was not easy to deal with. I retreated from fandom in order to avoid it as much as possible.

Finally in December, my fandom commitments finally ended, giving me the ability to end my friendship with her. Right before this, she spoke negatively of me in some public ways. One of these actions I cannot name here because it would reveal her identity, but it spoke ill of a community that I oversee.

The worst, however, was a fanfic that she published several days before I cut her off. She projected her and I onto the main couple of the fic. I was cast as Gabriel and she was cast as Nathalie. The further I read, the more sickened I became as the references became more overt.

Near the end of the fic, Gabriel and Nathalie have a huge argument. I was shocked to find exact quotes from our September 17th video chat in the dialogue of the fic. They were large sections of our conversation. At the end of their argument, Gabriel admitted all wrong and they make amends. As a couple.

I felt ill reading this. I still feel ill thinking about it. I hate that one of the most traumatic conversations in my life still exists on the internet for anyone to read, twisted into a scene that is meant to be read as good and romantic. I am reminded of all the harassment that I endured and I hate that that is a feeling I now associate with one of my favorite ships. There are other creators involved as well whose work has now been tainted by these real-world associations that had no business being in a fanfic.

After this, I cut her out of my life entirely. I was considering less drastic options, but this was the last straw that I knew we could not come back from. I removed her from several of my social circles and blocked her on all social media.

Before I blocked her, I sent a letter explaining in explicit detail why I would be cutting her out of my life. Despite this, she has recently claimed that she was never given a reason.

And that’s where we are now. My life has been more peaceful since December and I have begun to come out of my shell. For a couple of months she left the situation alone and that was fine with me. I was happy to peacefully coexist as long as I wasn’t having to interact directly.

However, my friends began calling my attention to recent posts on her blog that implied I had destroyed her mental health. Some of them have since been deleted. While I was willing to let the first one slide, these posts have increased in frequency while pushing an increasingly false narrative. I don’t enjoy the implications that I did something horrible to her by not consenting to a relationship.

I’m sure she will disagree with my take on things, and that’s fine. If she disagrees with my reasons with cutting her off, that is her prerogative, but I cannot allow her to claim that I didn’t give any reasoning when she did receive it through multiple channels of communication.

And I hope I haven’t gone a step too far in revealing that this person was in love with me. I debated not including it, but I’ve realized it’s an unavoidable issue that is central to the entire situation. At the root of it, I was romantically pursued and harassed. I cannot defend my reasons for cutting her off without disclosing the base motivation for the majority of her actions.

So that’s my story. I’d ask those who read this to please refrain from engaging in any harassment. This post has not been made with the intention to hurt her, as can be evidenced from months of me holding my tongue. I really did try to let her preserve her dignity, but I was left with no other options after being smeared multiple times. My purpose here is transparency.

I genuinely do wish her well, for both our sakes. I really hope that this will finally end her obsession and allow her to move on. But whatever happens, I refuse to be a doormat any longer in this situation.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (8/17)

Summary:  “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Link to cross-postings: AO3

It was late enough in the morning an hour or so before lunch.

For most people it was a godly hour, not too early in the morning for most to still be shaking off sleepiness, not too late to be nap time for many others. The Levi of long ago would have been running from class to class or doing some extra training alone. Maybe he would have been going through timelines on social media.

Ironically though even with nothing much to occupy himself with, Levi was exhausted.

Possibly because in his dreams, he was constantly at war. Some experiences he remembered clear as day. Others were tethered to memory by a single scent. The captain in his dreams though was always fighting or he was at least constantly on his toes, ready to escape or kill when needed.

Maybe that was partially the reason Levi found himself more than ready to collapse onto the cot in Erwin’s clinic that Saturday morning with Hange in tow. Maybe that’s why he had found himself struggling to keep a grip on reality as Erwin and Hange exchanged greetings and updates.

Erwin and Hange had done all the work testing the stiffness and his bum knee through exercises. With the pain still fresh and violent with the right prodding, Levi opted not to look and attempted to occupy himself with anything else. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a trance and let the soldier inside him take over.

The voices were all too familiar for the captain. When he drowned out the words, the jargon, he was able to focus on the serious tones, the unchanging timbre in each of their voices. Erwin's voice exuded authority, seriousness and a dash of mischief. Hange's voice complemented his, constantly wondering, constantly enthusing, occasional peppering her tone with seriousness and possibly desperation.

Of course, she's begging for Erwin's permission to start another research project.

That's how it has always been since he joined the survey corps.

Survey Corps. That was the military legion the captain was part of. Their job was to journey outside the walls and kill titans. In his dreams, when he was outside the walls, he was either on horseback or flying. When he was within the walls, indoors in some office, he was hearing those voices. Hange was constantly pushing some research agenda and Erwin was always discussing limitations to budgets, logistics and expedition plans. Levi would usually just lean on the side of the wall and listen. Just hearing their voices was enough.

Even faced with his reality, Levi had to agree, hearing those same voices from his dreams was comforting, comforting enough to forget the burning and occasionally sharp pain in his knee that had dulled with rest.

A hand on his shoulder was what pulled him completely out of his trance. “How are you feeling?”

Levi opened his eyes on instinct as that one hand helped him up to a sitting position.

"The surgical wounds are healing at least." Erwin continued as he looked at Levi expectantly.

Levi hadn’t said anything at all but social conventions were the last thing on his mind then. He was completely back in his reality, he was processing everything from the natural light streaming from outside the wide window to the sound of the muffled sounds of the sheets under him as he was helped into a more comfortable position. Yet at the same time, Erwin talking directly at him, tapping him on the soldier and making eye contact with him had Levi grappling between his dreams and his reality once again.

In his dreams, Erwin had died. He wasn’t a doctor. He was the commander of an army. In fact, the first thing Levi had thought of when he locked eyes with him were the orders that had sent hundreds to their deaths.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Are you okay? Levi ended up asking himself. Something inside him was raring to get out but he had no idea what it was. The fear of the unknown had spurred him pushing it back down within him and that effort had made his head spin and left him with a nauseating feeling that only climbed up his throat.

“Levi? Hey...” That time it was Hange shaking him. “Erwin, it’s just been a week. Maybe we shouldn’t expect too much...” Her tone seemed more uncertain than it had been a minute ago.

Levi could only watch, unable to move as Hange gave Erwin a side glance. There was a flash of panic in her eyes then guilt. Hey. I’m sorry. She had given him that same forced smile so many times before.

It’s not your fault. He would’ve wanted to say. All they needed was some sort of proof that he was still there and Levi dug for that impulse inside him, something to get him to move, despite that unfamiliar energy raring to break out of him.

He had found within himself enough energy to clear his throat and nod. That was enough at least for Hange to drop her shoulders and let out a small sigh which he hoped was relief..

"Erwin, were the sacrifices worth it?"

Levi only realized it a second later, only when Erwin widened his eyes and raised one eyebrow in question. By then it was too late, the words were out of his mouth.

“By sacrifice, you mean the surgery? I told you before. We won’t know if the risk was worth taking until late in the recovery.”

That wasn’t the answer Levi was looking for. By the time, he had made sense of it all though, that odd feeling had fallen back into him and Levi wondered why he even said it all.

                                    A Tale of Two Slaves

“Commander Erwin Smith huh? How can there be two commanders at the same time?”

Levi had eventually gotten over Hange looking over his shoulder as he typed. As time went by, he ended up craving the warmth, the human contact and the companionship that came with her. And maybe that odd nagging feeling inside him that was so tenaciously reminding him not to take any of them for granted.

Stupid. What the fuck did I just ask? That had been his first thought as he left Erwin’s clinic. The whole trek back home, he had remained silent, forcing himself to at least get a little distracted by the physical exertion which came with a ten minute walk to Hange’s apartment in crutches.

If Hange hadn’t insisted they take the elevator, he probably would have attempted to climb the stairs as well. Just to give him something to do while his brain nagged in the background, possibly scolding him for his impulsiveness and his weak constitution.

He had over distracted himself though. He only realized as he settled into the sofa bed after a long and painful shower, laptop open next to him, that he had no idea in particular what he had put himself through all the pains for.

What was that strong nagging feeling he had so desperately wanted to distract himself from? He had so easily clocked it to embarrassment. As he stared at the document on his laptop and looked through the name Erwin Smith, as he put his dreams together and the trance that came with his meeting with Erwin only that afternoon, he realized that those nagging feelings were the extra details to fill in the gaps between those dreams.

That spark of nostalgia, inspiration or whatever positive emotion Levi clocked it to that day, had him typing faster than he had ever typed before. Even he was taken aback by his ability to type that fast.

It turned out Hange was a little surprised too and that’s exactly what had her looking over his shoulder too excitedly asking about the two commanders.

“Erwin died…” Those words caught at Levi’s throat. He quickly cleared it up. “But he made you the next commander.” He had attempted to clear his throat but by the surprised look Hange had given him, Levi guessed that he didn’t look too happy either. He didn’t feel good. The nagging feeling of a while ago that he had let loose in his mind had him writing. It also had him choking on something for a moment and soon after, it had numb to the core. As Levi reflected a little more on those sensations, he comprehend that possibly, he was mourning Erwin's death.

But Erwin’s alive. Levi had to remind himself. Words did little though to quell the strong wave of emotions that faded to nothing within moments.

“Is that why you were... like that a while ago?” Hange asked, her voice suddenly much softer.

“Maybe…” Levi trailed off, using that extra few seconds of silence to dig at his thoughts while he wrote. Back then he had been grappling with two worlds, figuring out what was real or not. His body had frozen at the chaos and in that peace that followed, Levi had let something else take over. But he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“That bothered me…”

“I know. I'm sorry about how I was acting back in Erwin’s clinic,” Levi said, not looking up from his laptop. “I was feeling... a lot of things.”

“I don’t blame you. The results of the tests weren’t good either.”

Levi stopped typing mid word. That confirmation from Hange was all he needed to recall a little more and to make sense of that background noise back in Erwin’s clinic. He felt his heart drop. If it were any other day maybe he would have let out a tear for the life he had lost, the opportunity to run, jump and fly like he had used to.

There were more pressing things occupying his mind though, like his attempts to make sense of the dreams. His dreams came in snapshots and since he started attempting to write them out, Levi would record it scene by scene. As he scrolled through the document, scanning everything he had written, he started to realize there was so much he still didn’t know. The in-betweens that all culminated into that one scene in the woods.

That one scene with Commander Hanji and that one passing suggestion to run away together. That was the one dream he had remembered more than others and it had repeated itself to him more than once, more often since he had met Hange. More recently, Erwin had come up as a subject of his dreams. With the circumstances in his dreams and the knowledge that had been handed to him from Captain Levi then, he was able to deduce at least that Erwin had come before Hange.

"I don't even know if I'm doing everything correctly,” Levi muttered. If he had attempted to enunciate his thoughts any more clearly, he probably would have shown more emotion than necessary and refused to take that risk.

Hange had wanted to talk about his injury. He could see it in her face, she was building up to something, finding the right words and it looked like that mental preparation was hurting her in the process.

To the point that Levi felt like he was doing her a favor when he pushed the laptop screen at her. “There are more important things I want to think about other than my bum knee,” he said. That comment was at least enough to pull Hange out of wormhole of guilt she had been constantly throwing herself into since Levi had gotten injured. “Like this.” Levi gestured at the document displayed on the screen of his laptop. “Tell me about Erwin. Maybe if you told me more about him I could fill in the gaps here.”

“It’s your check up Levi. You should know the results..”

“Even if the results of those tests were good, this season is out of the question, just like Erwin said. And this is my last season anyway so it won’t make a difference. I would have graduated and found a job and never jumped again.”

Never jumped again. Hange’s face at hearing those last three words was both surprised and crestfallen. Eventually, she had dropped her shoulders and looked back at the screen next to him. “Okay fine--”

“Tell me about Erwin first.,” Levi said, keeping his tone deadpan. What do you know about him?”

“He’s an orthopedics doctor, started off in Paradis hospital… Then he took further studies abroad then now he teaches but I think you got that---”

“I got all those parts online,” Levi said. In fact, he had spent a good amount of time that morning going through whatever articles he could find on Doctor Erwin Smith that morning, a desperate attempt to make sense of that dream. Doctor Erwin Smith was a doctor and was well known in his field from what Levi could tell. He had authored multiple scientific journals that were locked behind paywalls. The abstracts that he was able to access were too cold, too scientific and too technical to give him a hint to who Erwin Smith could have been.

He wanted interviews, maybe a personal blog to get an idea of who Erwin was beyond his medical achievements. As Levi slogged through hours worth of links that morning, he started to realize there were limits to what the internet could offer. He had two options, he could ask Erwin himself or he could ask Hange what she knew.

And the latter seemed more accessible at that moment. “What is Erwin like? As a thesis advisor.” Levi asked. His fingers were poised, ready to write. Somehow, he knew as he watched Hange looked up at the ceiling in thought that with just a few words from her, he would have something to write, something to fill up the gaps to make sense of that sacrificial charge, his assault on the beast titan and the gut wrenching feeling that had him almost throwing up as the rocks met their target.

“Yeah, now that I think about it, I did choose to work under Erwin for his personality.” Hange looked back at Levi. “Dr. Erwin Smith is pretty well known in his field for a reason. Orthopedics is a pretty complex field and there are no straight cut procedures on how to deal with most injuries since we have to take into account nerves, blood vessels, muscle death, compartment syndrome…”

“So?” Levi pressed. He limited himself to one word. With just one word, it would least be easy to control whatever exasperation was rating to come out. It was just like Hange to expound on details before answering the question. Most days he wouldn’t have minded. At that moment in particular, he was just a little more impatient.

“Erwin is more successful when dealing with more difficult injuries because he likes to take calculated risks, most doctors wouldn’t want to risk their licenses or their patient’s welfare over. As a doctor, he approaches injuries and new cases as means of building knowledge and that’s why he publishes a lot more than others...”

Levi’s blood ran cold and he found himself unable to type. His attention had completely shifted towards Hange.

“And that’s why I picked him I guess. He approached research and the pursuit of truth a little more differently than most other doctors I could have worked with. You could say, maybe we approach research similarly?”

                                        A Tale of Two Slaves

The Tuesday after his check up, Levi found himself once again on the couch in Shela’s office. The development into actually settling on the couch and letting the words flow was smooth, much smoother than when they had first met. Shela was there waiting on the office, clipboard in hand. And Levi knew by the way she had gestured towards the couch that he could take up any position he found most comfortable given his injured knee.

She had gone through the common pleasantries.

How are your studies?

His teachers had allowed him to submit the rest of his assignments at home. His classmates had still been sending lecture slides and notes. Levi was sure he could have made the trek to school everyday. Hange had even offered to pay the fare if he needed a taxi to get there, citing the commute to be a not too handicap friendly. He only had three classes and all the teachers had at least been sympathetic about his career breaking injury. As long as he submitted what they needed him to submit, he would pass. And Levi was not going to hesitate to accept that kindness on their end.

How was the weekend?

His weekend was eventful. He had gone out for that one check up that Saturday had had spent the rest of the weekend either studying or writing out his dreams. Hange had spent that Sunday writing her thesis while checking on him a good 10% of the time and on Monday she had gone to school leaving Levi alone in the apartment.

By Monday, his document was teeming with information on Erwin, some he could have sworn were correct while others he could have attributed to a deduction. Somehow, he was a little proud that he had done the homework she had asked of him.

How are you feeling?

“Did you write something down?”

That was until she asked him, looking at him expectantly as he scrolled through his laptop at the document. She probably wanted his feelings, his thoughts. Not some drug-induced daydream he had come upon over a little depression episode. By the time he realized how ridiculous his answer to her homework had been, it was too late. He had given her enough signs to think that the open document on his laptop was his ‘homework’, the gateway to his mind, the attempt at an articulation of his thoughts.

As she read, she kept her face unreadable and her succeeding actions unpredictable. Levi mentally braced himself for a shut down, a comment that would probably leave him resisting the impulse to delete whatever he wrote. He could have been watching her unmoving expression for hours.

Eventually, her mouth turned up into a smile. “This is a good start.”

“It’s… a story I’ve been working on,” Levi said.

“And it looks like a self insert…”

Levi felt the blood rush through his cheeks. “Yes. It is.” There was no point in embellishing what it could have been to the normal reader.

“And it looks like you got Doctor Erwin and Hange here too.”

Of course she would know Erwin. He was the one who referred him to her after all. “Yeah, I’ve been staying with Hange so I have been seeing her a lot.” Levi continued, in an attempt to justify their large presence in his story without sounding like a complete stalker.

“I know, Erwin told me you were staying with Hange.”

“You’ve met her?”

“Erwin introduced her to me when we were still discussing the sessions. She asks about you.”

That cleared up at least some of his question. He was at least aware then that she kept a correspondence with Hange.

“And what did you tell her?”

Shela shrugged. “There’s nothing much to say yet. I think at this rate, she probably knows more about the state of your mental health than I do. This is just our second session after all.”

“She knows about these stories too…” Levi admitted. He found himself freezing up as he started to become aware of how crazy he sounded, having created a self insert fiction with people he had only met less than two months ago. As he gave it a second thought, he started to realize as well, he had even added Hange’s laboratory mates Nifa and Moblit to the mix of his stories, the few scenes he had remembered visiting Hange’s squad in their post.

“This isn’t anything to be embarrassed about. People cope through various ways. My job is to make you understand this and turn it into something which can help you heal and eventually grow.”

Levi had to muster up the courage to look up at her. He was sure his face was a few shades redder than what he would have wanted. When he locked eyes with her, he couldn’t help but notice they were softer than they were a few minutes ago.

Shela put her clipboard down and pen down on the table. Somehow, Levi felt in her actions, a little more of concern and emotional investment than he had ever felt before. It was seen in the way she leaned forward and widened her eyes in curiosity at him. And as she spoke up, he was able to confirm that it wasn’t just a trick of the mind.

Her voice was warmer, nostalgic and it started to feel more like he was talking to a very old friend. “Okay, tell me about them. Tell me about Erwin and Hange.”

The ones in my dreams? The ones in my story? Or the ones in real life? Levi was close to asking. He noted the confidence in her eyes and on the smile that settled on her lips and soon realized he had no need to clarify. She had chosen her words well.

As soon as he spoke up, he understood. The many dreams and the emotions that ran through him could attest to that same assumption. Erwin Smith and Hange Zoe were the same two people, regardless of which dimension he encountered them in.

                                        A Tale of Two Slaves

Have you ever thought of reincarnation? I’m sure you’ve heard of the concept but have you ever thought hard about that theory?

Reincarnation?

I did a lot of research on this and I’ve strongly believed since then that this is what happens when we die… Do you ever think...What if those dreams are someone telling you something? Someone from a long time ago?

What if I’m just going a little crazy with the shit I’ve been going through? Levi had argued then. When she had mentioned that, she had sounded more like a friend throwing outrageous theories than an actual therapist. There was some truth to what she was saying despite Levi’s doubts. He had been having those dreams since before he got injured after all.

When that one hour session ended, Levi had been left with that open ended question to ponder. Shela did not push it after all. She had strategically left enough crumbs for Levi to question. And the questions only resounded much louder as he exited the building to find Hange on a bench by the entrance, looking through what could have been another journal on her iPad.

“Four eyes, what are you doing here?” Levi asked. With the glare of the screen reflecting on her glasses, she had looked like a ‘four eyes’ at that exact moment he called out to her.

She looked up at him and the glare quickly disappeared. “Levi! You’re done.”

“And you came here to pick me up.”

Hange nodded. “My classes end early today and there’s not much work to do in the lab with the type of thesis I’m doing… so why not?”

“What if I didn’t notice you and I went ahead and you ended up waiting for no one?” Levi asked. “If I weren’t looking right, I could have completely missed you."

"Well you didn't right?"

"You could have waited inside. ”

“The hospital courtyard makes a nice view,” Hange answered. She was right. Autumn was only making itself more and more known through the orange dotting the green landscape in the courtyard. A lot more color than he had seen lately, having cooped himself up in her apartment.

And maybe I should have left you so you could appreciate it more? Levi was tempted to banter with her a little more.

Hange had made herself an easy target at that moment for a little teasing and jokes. Her hair was up in a messy half ponytail and the distracted look remained on her face, a sign that she had probably been a little too focused on what she had been reading until he called out to her.

That look of slight disengagement from her could have been frustrating for most. At that moment when Levi had a good look at her face, he concluded that it was more endearing than anything else and ended up indulging in it for a few more seconds, not wanting to break the moment with another half assed comment.

It was Hange who broke it on her end. “Before I forget!” By then her eyes had lit up. A sign that she had completely adjusted back into her reality. She rummaged through her bag next to her and pulled something out. “I saw this in a gift shop on the way there and I thought of you.” She grabbed Levi’s hand from where it hung on the side and plopped the keychain on his open palm. “Moblit got me something similar for my birthday. He probably got it in the same place now that I think about it.” She added.

Thought of you. Levi’s thoughts were somehow stuck on those words as he observed how the purple strands weaved around the green ring, similarly to the trinket Hange owned and which he had momentarily kept and treasured just a few weeks ago.

“It’s a dream catcher.” Hange said.

Levi found himself still stuck on those words of a while ago, still distracted by the familiar trinket she had gifted him.

“So, maybe it could help you remember your dreams a little more? Maybe help you sleep better at night?” She continued.

“It could,” Levi said. He didn't want to be the hypocrite, having griped about Hange’s lack of attention skills a few times before. He ended up quickly digressing though, having been a little too fixated on his conversation with Shela from a while ago and Hange's passing comment. “Hange do you remember of a life before? At all?” He asked as he pocketed the keychain.

“A life before?” Hange stood up, hung the canvas bag over her shoulder and gestured for him to walk next to her.

She kept her strides small and her pace slower than usual. For Levi, it was the perfect cadence to follow on crutches and somehow, that only reinforced that little hope inside him. I thought of you. She had said then.

“A life before,” Levi clarified. “Maybe you had dreams of people you thought you never met. Maybe you’ve felt the urge to write it all out and when you read it, it feels like you’ve lived that life before.” Did you ever dream of me too? He was raring to ask her. He knew he wanted it a raw answer from her mouth, not an idea he would have planted.

"Isn't that the same for every story read?” Hange looked at him questioningly. “If it's well written enough, you can feel like you're living their life too?”

Levi considered rephrasing the question, adding more details and possibly pressing for more answers from the brunette. The confused frown though had said it all. It had Levi looking straight ahead, not wanting her to see how the disappointment that coursed through his whole body at that moment, manifested itself in his face. No. It's different.

“This is the only life I've ever had. ” Hange said, only confirming verbally what he had already figured out.

This is the only life I’ve ever had too. That was just a stupid theory I found online. Levi was about to say. He was tempted to deny it all, and reduce every single dream, every single emotion that had pushed him to writing over tens of thousands of words of scenes out, into a fevered illusion.

He had been close to saying it then as he studied the side profile that fit so well the ones he had seen in his dreams. The messy wavy brown hair, the sharp nose and the hazel eyes so bright with wonder and life, and the deep yet naturally assertive timbre in her voice all culminated to the Hange he knew. And they all evoked emotions so deep and so unintelligible to Levi then as he watched.

As he vacillated between denying his dreams and reveling in the disappointment, those emotions did tell him one thing. If he denies it, he denies the emotions and the bond that had been drawing him to Hange since a month ago. Consequently, he denies all those moments that lead them there, to a state where he’d be comfortable enough to pursue such a question.

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to deny it. He saw meaning behind their meeting, behind the mutual interests and the emotions that had brought them closer together. If it turned out he was the only one who saw it, then so be it. He could live with that.

This is the only life I ever had. “Or at least, this is the only life I remember having.” She quickly added, even before Levi could figure out the right way to express his disappointment.

A researcher never made conclusions without the right evidence. Hange had always been a researcher, a scientist. To Levi, she had always embodied the authentic researcher, having made millions more questions than conclusions. He was relieved to see that just like during the many times he had seen her ponder, she hadn’t made an inalterable conclusion just yet.

“So you believe in reincarnation then?” Levi asked.

Hange shrugged. “With the right evidence and theories maybe?”

Relieved, Levi let out a light chuckle. There were still lots more to figure out. And we can do it together.

[thanks--for--listening]

tethers

hi party people guess who finally finished her fic for the wilds! i’m tagging it as leatin but you could probably read it either in a ship way or just in a friendship way. takes place after the ocean scene but we’re pretending Leah hasn’t gone into the woods to find nora yet. (also on ao3)

~~

The sun was overbearing. Leah tried to open her eyes, but the glare surrounded her, didn't leave room for anyone or anything else. There was no warmth or feeling — just light. She might have compared it to drowning, but the metaphor didn’t hold up anymore. She knew what drowning looked like; there was nothing bright about it.

The waves had been all darkness, pain and pressure toying with her like she weighed nothing at all. She’d heard the ocean described as unforgiving before, and she hadn’t understood it until she was out there. The water didn’t care about her. It didn’t care about anyone. There was fear, a survival instinct that couldn’t be ignored, but there was also something intoxicating about its indifference. Giving up control offered a serenity she hadn’t prepared for. A part of her still longed for it, although it wasn’t strong enough to break through the sun, to drag her up and off the beach. 

The constant light might have tricked her into thinking she’d succeeded, but she was pretty sure the afterlife wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. Every muscle in her body groaned, as if they’d rusted over in however long she’d been asleep. There was a quiet but constant pounding in her head, and she let it ground her, let every beat sync up with her heart and confirm that she was still alive. 

Her other sensations came back slowly. The hunger, deep in her gut, made itself known in whispers that weren’t easily ignored. The sand beneath her, damp and cold, served as a constant reminder of the hell she was waking up to. But more than anything, it was the feeling of a hand running through her hair that motivated her to blink away the sun and let reality come back into focus. 

Fatin wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes were cast outward, at the infinite ocean surrounding them. She stared at it like she could see past it, like there was more to look at than their own personal wasteland. Like she saw something that wasn’t there.

Leah’s eyes drifted to her hands. She could feel her right one still absentmindedly combing through her hair, but her left was in its own world. Her fingers kept moving, up and down and left to right, slowly then quickly, then slowly again. It looked sporadic at first, but the longer she watched, the more she felt like there was a rhythm to it. A pattern, although one she couldn’t decipher. 

Fatin glanced down, as if she felt her eyes on her. “You’re up.” The worry in her voice contradicted the smile on her face. “How do you feel?”

“Drowsy.” Speaking took more effort than it should have. Her voice carried it's now characteristic crack, the sound almost not coming out at all. 

“Here,” she said as she reached for a water bottle. “Drink slowly.”

Fatin helped her up, held her head as she drank. It didn’t matter that the water was warm — it came with the same relief it had in the few weeks they’d been here. Every sip calmed her, brought her back down to Earth, dampened the pounding and gnawing and rebelling going on inside her body, if only for a moment. Calm wasn’t something she held onto for very long.

She put the bottle down, shifted so her head ended up in Fatin’s lap. They’d never talked about it, this position she often found herself in. Leah wasn’t even sure how it had started. All she knew was that she liked the way it felt, to lay against her, to feel the warmth of another person underneath her. And after that day they’d spent searching, when all she could think about was Fatin dead in a ditch somewhere, Leah couldn’t deny the comfort it gave her, knowing for certain that she was okay. That she was alive. 

Fatin never stopped her, not once.

“How—uh, how are you feeling? You know, up here?“ Fatin tapped on the side of her head as she asked. The hesitation was so unlike her. Guilt reared its ugly head, reminded her of an indisputable fact: Fatin’s fear, her worry, it was all her fault. They were in hell, and she was making things worse. The way she always did.

“Better.” She answered confidently, even though she wasn’t entirely sure whether it was true or not. The desperation was out of the forefront, at the very least. But she wasn’t sure that would classify her as healed. As normal. Leah didn’t think she’d ever fit that label, not before this fucking island and definitely not on it. She did her best to ignore the sinking feeling that she might not find normal anytime after their castaway adventure, either. She would always be this way. That girl who ran to the ocean, she would live somewhere inside her forever. 

Fatin sighed in relief, and all at once she made the white lie worth it. “That’s two things to celebrate.”

“Two?”

Her face lit up. “We’ve got food now. Starvation is officially put on hold.”

She tried to smile. Truly, she did, but whether it was her body’s slow reaction time or her mind’s lingering hold on her, something wouldn’t let it happen. Pretending kept getting harder, and she couldn’t help but worry about what happened when she lost the ability entirely.

Fatin noticed. She always seemed to notice. “Aren’t you happy?” She could hear it in the way she spoke. The concern. Leah hated it, hated being the reason for it. 

“Yeah,” she answered a little too quickly. “Sorry. I’m just really tired. But that’s good, it really is.”

She didn’t look like she believed her. Leah didn’t know how to explain it, her lack of response. It was a little bit of everything: the dread at thinking about what came with survival, the fog from whatever she’d swallowed not fully faded, the lifetime spent not knowing how to feel anything the right amount. She was all or nothing, always had been. And right now, no matter what she did, she couldn’t escape the nothing. 

There was a numbness to it. She’d get moments, watching the world speed around her while she felt trapped in slow motion. The island had broken it initially, but the adrenaline faded with every day that passed, and it took any sort of regulation with it. All she was left with was her typical, fucked up self, her zero to a hundreds. And everyone else was left with it, too.

“What was that thing you were doing earlier?” She asked it mostly as a distraction. Fatin may not have been as shallow as she’d once thought, but she also didn’t pass up many opportunities to talk about herself. The attempt may have been futile, but it could work, if it managed to catch her off guard. Or if Fatin decided to amuse her and ignore the obvious avoidance.

Leah knew she had her when she scrunched her eyebrows together. “What thing?”

“With your hands. You were, like, not tapping exactly, but you were doing...I don’t know. You were moving a lot.”

“Oh. That.” Fatin didn’t blush, not visibly, but she’d seen that smile before. She knew what it meant. “It’s nothing.”

“Does it mean something?”

“No. It’s stupid. Just an old habit.”

She could hear the lie. It didn’t make sense, how something so inconsequential could be worth hiding. Genuine curiosity snuck in, made her forget about distractions entirely. “It’s not like you could embarrass yourself more than I already have, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Leah saw the smile tug at her lips. “Okay,” Fatin said, sounding more herself. “If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t tell anyone. My reputation depends on it.”

She forced her hand up to her lips, weakly mimicked zipping her mouth shut. Her arm screamed, but the effort was worth it for the laugh she got in return. 

“Alright. Sometimes, when I get bored, or when I need to get out of my head, I mentally run through whatever piece I’m learning.”

The connection took a second. “You mean cello pieces?”

Fatin nodded. “I use my thumb as the makeshift fingerboard,” she said, holding her hand up in front of her. “And I just...go through the motions.”

Leah watched as her fingers moved. She could see it more clearly now, the intentionality of it all. The routine. She moved quickly, confidently, with so much purpose and familiarity. It was something so small, but she felt like it shattered whatever was left of the misconstrued perception she’d had of her. 

Fatin stopped after a few seconds. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s cool.”

She laughed. “If you think this is cool, your social education has failed you.”

“I’m serious.”

“Leah, it’s the cello. Nothing about the cello is cool.”

“Anything is cool if you’re good at it. And I heard you’re, like, really good. Like, Juilliard-level good. That’s cool.”

The smile faded. Leah didn’t understand it, felt a quiet desperation to get it back. “Yeah. Well, if one good thing comes out of this, it’s that I can leverage my parents to make sure I never have to go there. Not sure they’ll be able to say no to me ever again.”

“You don’t wanna go? But isn’t that, like, the be-all end-all school for music?”

“Yeah, if you wanna spend the rest of your life playing concertos written by dead racist white men and wasting your best years wearing concert attire.” She tried to smile, but Leah could see right through her. “You know me, I can’t live my life confined to an all black wardrobe.”

She hesitated, just for a second, before asking, “There’s more to it than that, though, isn’t there?”

For a second, Leah thought she’d deny it, but instead she just shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

“I’ve got time if you wanna explain it.” She motioned vaguely around then. “Schedule’s all clear for the foreseeable future.”

Their eyes met, and even if she’d been strong enough to move, she would have sat frozen in place. Fatin had a way of staring into her like she could see every thought running through her head, like every emotion she had was out on display. It was captivating, and fascinating, and terrifying, and Leah never wanted it to stop.

“My parents started me in lessons when I was little,” she said after a minute. “Tends to come with the territory when you’re first gen. Music is supposed to teach you discipline and patience. Immigrant parents eat that shit up.”

“I’m sure you took to that lesson real fast.”

Fatin cracked a smile. “Oh, yeah. Throw your kid into nonstop music lessons before they know how to read, and you could come out of it with me, every parent’s dream. Clearly I’m a walking success story.”

“I mean, you kinda are. That is, if you’re really that good.”

“Don’t get it twisted. I’m fucking amazing. But it isn’t because of some child prodigy bullshit, or because I have an abundance of patience. Most people aren’t born good at something. You have to work for it.”

She meant to ask it as a joke, but sincerity slipped out. “And...that’s what you did? You worked at it?”

“You don’t have to act all surprised. Yeah, I worked at it. I worked at it a lot.” She held up her hand, and for the first time Leah saw the rough calluses Dot had mentioned earlier. “You don’t get monstrosities like these without spending a lot of fucking time on it.”

“Wow.” She tried to imagine it, a tiny Fatin slaving away at an instrument that had to be just as big as her. A teenage Fatin locked away in a practice room, playing over and over and over again, wounds reopening so many times that even weeks on an island couldn’t properly heal them. “I didn’t realize you were so passionate about it.”

She didn’t say anything. For a second she wondered whether she’d gone too far, crossed a line she hadn’t realized was there. An apology was sitting at the tip of her tongue when Fatin sighed and said, “I used to be.”

She could hear it, the way they were treading into delicate territory. Part of her was scared to keep going. Every one of her companions seemed to have their own personal landmines hidden in their time before the crash, and the last thing she wanted was to set off an explosion. She knew how to blow up, but she wasn’t strong the way Fatin was — if she missed a step, she may not be able to put the pieces back together. 

It was the feeling of Fatin’s left hand stalled in the movement, still fingers content to stay tangled in her hair, that made Leah push aside the fear. She could beat herself up later for whatever mistakes she was bound to make, but she couldn’t do nothing. 

“What changed?” The words were an invitation, one she wasn’t sure Fatin would accept. The pain was palpable. Her eyes drifted away from Leah and back out into the ocean, and a small part of her wanted to go back in, to find whatever it was Fatin kept searching for.

“I did, I guess.” She spoke like she was saying the words for the first time. “It may be hard to believe, but I wasn’t a popular kid. I had a weird name and a weird family. I brought the wrong lunches to school and I wore the wrong clothes, and no one cared to look any deeper. But none of that mattered, because I had music.”

Leah could see the light creep into her eyes, slowly, quietly. “When I played,” she continued, “I understood everything. I could hear it, the way each note, each piece, was supposed to sound. I could practice, and practice, and practice, and I could get better. I could learn to do everything right.”

She talked about playing the way people talked at funerals: reminiscing about someone who was already gone, picking only the happy memories and pretending for just a moment that no other ones existed. And Leah knew it wasn’t the whole story, but there was something compelling about listening, about imagining a world in which everything made sense and no error was so abhorrent it couldn’t be fixed with a slight adjustment.

“By the time I was in middle school, my future had already been decided. I’d spent every day after school rehearsing, spent every summer at music camps. I never complained, because I truly thought there was nothing else. Nothing could be better than sitting on stage, impressing rows and rows of people who could only dream about having what I had.”

“It sounds amazing.” Leah hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but it was true. It reminded her of writing. Searching for the right words, the right structure, the right pacing. The satisfaction that came with it. She may not have had an audience to look out on, but she’d had glimpses of the feeling. The ability to control the world around you, just for a second.

“It was, at first. Every crowd, every teacher and ensemble member, they all wanted to hear me. They wanted to be me. And maybe it’s shallow, but there’s nothing more intoxicating than being desired.”

“It’s not shallow.” It came out as a whisper. Leah turned her eyes down, even when she was certain Fatin’s had found their way back to her. She knew if she gave her the chance, Fatin would see everything, all the guilt and pain and humiliation. The pages might have burned, but the need for them, for what they once meant, hadn’t turned into ashes yet. 

“Maybe it’s not.” Her voice felt softer as she spoke again. “But it’s easier to say that when it’s coming from an audience. From something you have to earn. It’s a lot harder when it’s coming from boys who see a body instead of a person.”

“So that’s what changed.” She tried to put some humor into the words. The last thing she wanted Fatin to think was that she was judging her. She might have done it before, but the high ground she’d once placed herself on was sinking by the minute.

Fatin chucked. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s the classic story, really. Girl turns fourteen, goes through puberty, and suddenly popularity is offering itself up on a silver platter held by boys in football jerseys and envied by girls with Pom Poms. Trends shift. What was out is now in. And for the first time in my life, I was in.”

“That sounds nice.” She wasn’t sure whether she was lying or not. It did sound tempting, but popularity had always seemed too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

Fatin just sighed. “Part of it was. I’d spent years not really interacting with anyone outside of a rehearsal hall. I thought it’d be hard. But when you're used to searching for emotion in sheet music, faces become so much easier. All these kids projected everything, gave me all the right answers. I never even had to try.”

So much of who she was began to make sense. Her perceptiveness, her empathy, her uncanny ability to read a room. Fatin had gone from an open book to a complete mystery in the last few weeks, and for the first time since, Leah felt like she was beginning to figure her out.

“The people I started to hang with, they were so different from everyone I’d ever met,” Fatin continued. “They were bold. Independent. Filled with confidence that wasn’t reliant on anyone else. It was…” she shrugged. “It was revolutionary.”

“What do you mean?”

“They showed me an entirely different life. Everything I’d thought I could only get while performing was out there, waiting for me. And the options — there were so many options. For so long, music was the only thing I cared about, because it was the only thing that ever made me feel...I don’t know. Seen. Heard. Wanted. But when the world started paying attention to me, I started paying attention back. And the cello wasn’t enough anymore.”

“So, why didn’t you stop?”

Fatin rolled her eyes. “You say it like it’s that easy. I could complain until I ran out of air, but that wasn’t going to change anything. Juilliard was my future. My parents weren’t going to let me throw that away for complete uncertainty.”

“Even if you didn’t want it anymore?”

“What I want hasn’t mattered in that house in a long time.”

Leah hesitated, before asking, “Is that why you’re going to move?”

“You could say that.” She seemed to search for the words. “I thought I’d...my mom, I thought she’d…” Fatin sighed, and she could hear the way her breath shook, went unsteady for just a moment before she kept talking. “I don’t have anyone on my side. The only thing that could keep me there are my brothers, but I’m not what they need. Not now.”

She let the silence fill the space around them. She’d only known Fatin from glimpses in the halls, but in each one she was always talking. Surrounded by people. The idea of her alone was almost unimaginable. “At least you have your friends. I’ve only ever had one, and I went and threw him away.” She thought about Ian, about the tent, about every moment she’d blocked out when her view had been dominated by hand-written notes and whispered confessions. “You still have people to go back to.”

Fatin just shook her head. “It’s not that kind of relationship, hon. We don’t...the people I spend my time with, we don’t talk about the real stuff. I’m not sure any of them are gonna wanna stick around after I come back with all this.”

Leah frowned. “But what about the guys you…”

“The ones I’ve fucked?” Leah nodded. “No. Everything is temporary with them. It’s perfect.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah. We worked because we both knew what we were getting into. They used me, and I used them. They wanted a good time, and I...I wanted that feeling back. The applause.” She exaggerated the word, like she wanted it to be a joke. It didn’t work. “I wanted more of it. I wanted them to need me more than I needed them.”

“That sounds—”

“You can say it. I already know.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m a skank, and I’m taking all of us women down with me and my reckless promiscuity.”

“I was just going to say it sounds lonely.”

She watched Fatin bite her lip, turn her eyes up toward the sky. Leah looked up with her. The clouds could have been painted, they were moving so slowly. It calmed her, although she couldn’t figure out why. 

“There are worse feelings,” Fatin finally said, “than laying with someone who wants you, even if it won’t last.”

He crept in quickly, reminded her of the pain of being left, abandoned, desired and then repulsed. She thought about the dark that had followed and never stopped, the missed calls and the unheard screams. The deafening thud in her head telling her to swim until she reached the end. She thought about the paranoia, the intensity of knowing when something was wrong but having no way to prove it, no way to fix it. 

“Fatin,” she said softly, eyes still glued to the clouds. “I don’t want to stay here, but I don’t think I want to go back home, either.”

She could feel the stare, but she avoided it. “You don’t have to go home.”

“I have nowhere else to go. And even if I make it back, I’ll have nothing. No one.”

“That’s not true. You’ll have me.” Fatin put her hand on her chin, tilted her head, waited until their eyes met. “And there’s no if about it. We will make it out of here. I promise.”

“It’s not just the island. I can’t leave all my problems in my childhood bedroom. I can’t walk out of my own head. I…” she tried not to, but she felt the tear slip out anyway, felt it make its way down past her chin. “I don’t know how to live like this forever.”

Fatin bent over and hugged her, brought their heads together in a way Leah didn’t think was physically possible. “I’m not gonna lie to you and say that everything’s going to be easy. But I know it’ll get better.”

“How? How do you know?”

“Because nothing could possibly be worse than this.” Fatin raised her head, but she kept her hand in her hair. Leah let the motion bring her back down, let it fight off the waves as best as it could. 

She didn’t know how long they stayed there. Long enough for the panic about the future to subside. Long enough for Dot to come over with food. Fatin eased her up, helped her eat slowly, and Leah was grateful. She wasn’t sure she’d have had the self control not to over-indulge without her.

Sleep threatened, tried to tug at her eyelids when Fatin pulled her back down into her lap. She resisted, searched for something to focus on and found the ocean in front of them. The moment leading up to it had been a bit of a blur, desperation blocking out the rest of the world, but she knew who she’d left on the beach. She knew who’d had to watch. 

“Hey,” Leah forced herself to tear her gaze off the sea, to look her in the eye. To not hide from the pain. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that yesterday.”

Fatin shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I know you...you’re not wired like everyone else. You have to be stronger. And that sucks, it really, really does. But promise me something, okay?” Leah nodded, and Fatin put her hands on her cheeks, made sure she couldn’t look away, even if she’d wanted to. “If you ever start feeling that much darkness again, don’t run to the waves. You run to me.”

She didn’t trust her voice, didn’t trust herself to do anything but nod. Fatin stared at her for another moment, searched her eyes for something and seemed to find it. She let go, but her hand didn’t make its way back to her hair. Instead, they formed fists at her sides, held nothing but air and frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Fatin.”

Leah could feel the breath she took. It was heavy, weighted with burdens Leah knew and ones she didn’t. “I’m sorry.” She spoke to the ground instead of at her. “When you ran out there, I didn’t know how to get to you. I didn’t know how to bring you back.”

“But you did.” This time it was Leah who searched, who’s eyes begged her to listen, to believe her. “Rachel may have carried me to shore, but you saved me, too, Fatin.”

Leah reached for her hand, unraveled it until it fit inside her own. She ran her fingers over the calluses, the marks that told a deeper story than she’d ever suspected. Part of her wondered if they’d ever go away, if any of their pasts would leave them unmarked, or if they’d have to carry those scars forever.

“You know what,” Fatin said after a moment, “you should come with us. Dot and I, you should live with us in LA after this.”

She tried to imagine it: a tiny apartment, the three of them desperately trying to figure out adulthood on their own. It sounded crazy, and unpredictable, and reckless. She wanted it more than anything.

“Okay, but on one condition: you have to play the cello for me, at least once.” 

Fatin scoffed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“I just need to hear what all the fuss is about! If I’m living with a music virtuoso, I wanna get an exclusive performance before you retire all together.”

She rolled her eyes, but a grin fought its way through. “I’m not opposed to the idea of playing again, so long as it’s for you.”

“Really? Just for me?”

Fatin fake sighed. “Alright, Dot can listen too, I guess. But my piece selection will consist exclusively of Top 40 covers. If you hear the real stuff, you might become possessed like my parents and try to ship me off to Juilliard in my sleep.”

“Possessed? So what, you’re some kind of Siren now?”

She held her hands up in fake surrender. “I’m just stating facts. My playing convinced my immigrant parents to push their daughter toward a career in the arts. Who knows what other power it holds.”

They laughed, and Leah kept to herself the thought that she could never be a Siren. Sirens were supposed to be tempting only from afar, their beauty a mirage meant to lead sailors astray; the closer she looked, the more confident she became that Fatin was no facade. She might have been the realest thing Leah had.

“If I’m being honest, I kind of miss it.” She looked back at the island. Leah watched the way she stared at it, the hints of appreciation that slipped into her gaze. “This place may be a living nightmare, but it would be a hell of a spot to play. Not for an audition or an audience or anything. Just for the beauty of it.”

“What’s the piece? The one you were practicing before you came here?”

“You wouldn’t know it. Unless you’re a closeted classical music fan.”

“Can you show me what it sounds like?”

Fatin turned toward her and smiled. Leah knew she felt everything in extremes, but she was certain that she could spend forever looking at Fatin’s smile and never grow tired of it. 

She began to hum. It started off fast, the notes bouncing from high to low and back again before Leah could even really process them. The cello was about as foreign to her as any other instrument, but even she could tell it sounded hard. The movements she’d seen earlier began to make sense, the speed at which her hands had shifted. It was impressive, even now, with no instrument in sight. 

When she began to slow down, each note taking up more and more time, Leah closed her eyes. She could hear it now. The timidness that had appeared at the start faded, and all that was left was the emotion. The passion. Part of her longed to point to it, to show her that it hadn’t vanished the way she’d thought, but the last thing she wanted to do was stop the music. So instead she kept her mouth shut and just listened. 

Their hands had found their way back to one another. She let them stay there, momentarily intertwined. Her body still ached but she ignored it, forced her energy into memorizing this moment. When she’d jumped into the ocean, she hadn’t felt strong enough to pull herself back. Her brain could be so selective, so misleading. It could steal the few tethers she did have, leaving her disjointed from everyone around her, from reality itself. She still wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it, but she wanted to try. In her mind’s brief period of peace, she silently vowed to make as many as she could, to stock up on moments that made her feel grateful to be alive. She started with this: Fatin’s melody, accompanied only by the quiet push and pull of the waves. 

[reesefms]

                          ✩ —  𝒉𝒊  𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒔  !  i’m  buzzing  with  excitement  because  we’re  finally  open  !  i’m  so  excited  to  see  everyone  bring  their  muses  to  life  ,  it’s  unreal  .  i’m  leia  (  she  /  her  )  repping  the  est  tz  ,  which  fits  my  #basic  personality  because  i  would  kill  for  starbs  iced  coffee  w/  oat  milk  .  i  honestly  apologize  in  advance  for  how  ramble - y  &  long  this  into  is  ,  it’s  a  little  embarrassing  !  i  would  love  to  plot  with  each  &  every  one  of  you  so  please  smash  that   💛  if  you’d  like  to  !  you  can  find  me  at  theweeknds#0379  on  discord  or  we  can  use  tumblr’s  ims  if  you  prefer  !  

                           *  𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐠𝐨𝐬  here  and  do  i  have  the  tea  for  you  .  reese  is  back  in  bridgehampton  for  the  summer  ,  living  off  the  leblanc’s  family  $302  mil  .  must  be  nice  to  come  back  home  to  the  hamptons  ,  i  wonder  what  her  fellow  class  of  2017  grads  think  of  her  return  .  you  know  ,  she  was  known  around  town  as  the  reveler  and  for  bhs  senior  superlatives  she  was  crowned  as  most  likely  to  be  late  to  her  own  wedding  .  i  wonder  if  that  still  holds  true  today  ,  a  lot  can  change  when  you  go  off  to  ucla  and  study  communications  .  either  way  ,  i  bet  she  is  still  very  audacious  ,  blithe  ,  negligent  and  depraved  .  hopefully  this  time  next  year  the plans  to  stay  in  la  and  focus  entirely  on  her  youtube  channel  come  true  .  in  the  meantime  ,  i  look  forward  to  seeing  her  blast  teen  idle  -  marina  and  the  diamonds  at  every  hamptons  function  .  it’s  going  to  be  a  wild  summer  home  ,  welcome  back  .

*  tw  :  drinking  ,  drug  use  ,  death  ,  overdose  ,  suicidal  ideations  if  you  squint

╰  ✩   𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢  𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜   :  

the  leblancs –  an american  made  ,  household  name  .  hollywood  embedded  so deeply in  the  bloodline  ,  it  made  the  rest  world  question  whether  or  not  a  gene  for  acting  existed  .  the  leblanc  women  always  seeming  to  marry  into  the  business  –  actors  &  actresses  going  hand  in  hand  ,  marriages  supposed  to  last  the  test  of  time  .  however  ,  for  every  card  of  luck  fate  deals  a  cursed  one  –  messy  divorces  ending  in  vicious  headlines  ,  the  media  practically  salivating  for  the  next  leblanc failure  .  every  ending  prompted  with  a  –  &  when’s  the  next  wedding ?  (  side  note  :  i  was  inspired  by  goldie  hawn  /  kate  hudson  !  )  

dawn  leblanc’s  determination  to  break  the  cycle  had  been  admirable  ,  the  young  actress  entering  a  tumultuous  relationship  with  a  young  musician  ,  bandleader  kurt  rhodes  .  for  four  magical  years  the  pair  defied  the  world’s  expectations  ,  perhaps  the  leblanc’s  would  finally  achieve perfection –  climbing  back  onto  the  pedestal  after  being  knocked  down  time  & time  again  .

the fifth  year brought  reese  elizabeth  leblanc into  the  world  ,  another  girl  slated  to  continue  on  the  leblanc  family  legacy  .  the  night  had  been  stormy  ,  thunder  no  match  for  her  cries  –  as  if  the  universe  had  known  the  blonde  was  destined  to  be  a force  of  nature  .  her  parents &  the  rest  of  the  world  fell  in  love  with  her  ,  angelic  golden  curls  & wide  ,  doe  eyes (  thanks  to  the  leblanc  genes  )  masking  the  terror  she  became  –  born  with  an  insatiable  curiosity  that  drove  her  to  explore  any  & everything  .

dawn  clung  to  the  hope  that  reese  would  mature  into  perfection  ,  hiring  yet  another  painter  to  cover  up  scribbles  in  a  bold  ,  crimson  shade  of  chanel  lipstick  .  forks  moved  to  the  top  shelf  in  an  effort  to  stop  her  from  emulating ariel ,  her  favorite  disney  princess  –  the  gold  metal  bound  to  ruin  her  curls  .  reese  favoring  time  with  her  father  ,  enamored  by  the  vibrations  raking  through  her  tiny  body  as  chubby  ,  little  fingers  pressed  against  black  &  white  keys  .

the seventh  year  ,  the  leblanc  curse  took  its  effect  ,  gifting  reese  a  divorce  for  her  second  birthday  .  this  one  messier  than  those  before  ,  kurt’s  affair  with  a groupie ,  no  less  ,  plastered  on  every  news  stand  .  her  grandmother  quick  to  swoop  in  ,  reese &  her  mother  moving  in  to  hide  away  from  the  flashing  lights  .  the  eldest  leblanc  reminding  her  daughter  that  she  should  have  listened  all  those  years  ago  –  musicians  weren’t leblanc  material  .  the  blame  never  falling  on  the  leblanc  women  –  self  -  absorbed to  a  fault  .

within  a  year  of  her  divorce  ,  dawn  re-married  ,  her  co-star  &  american’s golden  boy  brent  jacobs  –    the  supposed  new  love  of  her  life  .  as  always  ,  the  media  latched  onto  the  news  –  eagerly  sinking  their  teeth  into  the  idea  of  a  publicity  stunt  to  rub  the  tarnish  off  dawn’s  reputation  . &  when  reese  turned  three  ,  her  family  grew  to  four  – savannah  dawn  leblanc  entering  the  world  much  more peacefully than  her  older  sister  ,  wrapping  every  person  around  her  finger  with  just  a  bat  of  her  baby  blues (  eye  color  seemingly  the  only difference  between  the  leblanc  sisters ) .

╰  ✩   𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗  𝚒𝚍𝚕𝚎   :  

as  much  as  she  should  ,  reese  could  never  hate  her  younger  sister  .  the  pair  forging  a  bond  that  could  be  explained  by  no  one  despite  their  obvious  differences  .  with  only  a  shared  mother  ,  it  shocked  everyone  to  see  just  how  similar  they  looked  .  dawn  taking  to  the  idea  of  pretending  as  if  reese  were  the  daughter  of  her  second  husband  .  her  mother  had  always  been  too  good  at  acting  ,  a  master  at  eluding  reality  & morphing  it  into  an  acceptable  idyl  .

savannah  was  the  golden  child in  everyone’s  eyes  ,  reese  cast  aside  as  the other  leblanc ,  the  problem  child  .  the  blonde  often  found  sulking  in  her  room  only  to  sneak  out  the  window  the  second  she  got  an  urge  to  explore  .  the  supposed  ,  inherited  acting  bug  had  never  bitten  her  ,  reese  waving  away  any  offer  to  star  in  a  film  or  commercial  .  any  attempt  to  drag  her  to  an  audition  resulted  in  her  either  running  away  ,  or  creating  such  a  scene  that  no  one in  hollywood  would ever want  to  work  with  her  .  a  downpour on  any  project  .

savannah  took  to  acting  just  like  her  mother  .  the  pair  bonding  in  a  way  reese  could  never  ,  frequently  flying  from  their  home  in  the  hamptons  to  auditions  in  la  .  reese  tagging  along  only  so  she  could  see  her  father  ,  the  only  one  who  ever  seemed  to  get  her  –  dawn  claiming  reese  may  have  been  gifted the  leblanc  looks  ,  but  her  moodiness  all  stemmed  from  her  father  .

it  drove  her insane  ,  staring  at  her  reflection  in  the  mirror  every  night  as  if  to  ask  what  was  wrong  with  her  .  why  was  she  so  different ?  why  couldn’t  she  be  agreeable  like  savannah  ?  it  fed  her  jaded  soul  ,  reese  losing  her  innocence &  rose  colored  glasses  far  too  quickly  .  her  realism  tethering  her  to  reality  ,  able  to  see  through  the  pink  ,  glittery  fog  of  dawn  leblanc’s  world  .

she  fought  with  her  mother  constantly  ,  savannah  always  sneaking  into  her  room  at  night  to  ask  quietly  ,  why  won’t  you  &  mom  get  along  ?  she’s  doin’  her  best  re  .  reese  never  had  the  answer  ,  always  a  heavy  sigh  as  she  brushed  her  sisters  questions  off  .  unable  to  explain  that  ,  while  savannah  was  content  with  being  her  mother’s  doll ,  she  couldn’t  bring  herself  to  –  not  when  she’d  seen  the  world  beyond  the  facade  her  mother  &  grandmother  painted  .  

&  like  clockwork  ,  dawn  drove  her  second  husband  away  –  reese  16  & savannah  13  .  the  promise  to  co-parent  kept  ,  their  split  amicable  despite  the  constant  fights  that  had  ended  in  broken  dishes  &  reese  quietly  sneaking  out  –  losing  herself  in  a  party  ,  in  noise  to  forget  that  silence  could  be  just  as  loud  ,  but  more  deafening  .  

╰  ✩   𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍  𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑   :  

reese  couldn’t  escape  the  hamptons  or  her  mother  fast  enough  ,  ucla  her  ticket  away  .  the  only  dark  cloud  ,  leaving  behind  her  sister  .  the  two  promised  to  text  every  day  ,  savannah  always  welcome  to  stay  with  reese  if  their  mother  ever  got  to  be  too  much  –  savannah  much  more  adept  at  handling  her mood  swings  ,  appeasing  her  mother  with  a  sugar  sweet  smile  & a  promise  to  major  in  acting  after  graduation  .  

reese  ,  however  ,  had  no  idea  what  direction  she  wanted  to  go  –  communications  her  fall  back  in  an  effort  to  just  choose  something  that  didn’t  require  much  effort  .  ucla  her  dream  school  for  its  social  climate  more  than  its  educational  one  . &  her  freshman  year  marked  the  start  of  her  youtube  channel  –  reeses  ,  which  currently  has  a  whopping  3.4  million  subscribers  .  true  to  her  surname  ,  the  blonde  did  find  love  in  front  of  the  camera  ,  but  also  behind  it  as  she  vlogged  her  escapades  much  to  the  world’s  enjoyment &  her  mother’s  disappointment  .

savannah  &  reese  texted  every  night  ,  updating  each  other  &  signing  each  text  off  with  a  forever  &  always  .  occasionally  ,  reese  would  forget  –  too  drunk  or  high  to  craft  a  text  ,  always  apologizing  the  next  morning  when  she  woke  up  to  savannah’s  worried  texts  .  despite  being  the  one  that  should  look  out  for  her  sister  ,  savannah  always  seemed  to  be  looking  out  for  her  .  

one  visit  sophomore  year  ,  savannah  begged  reese  to  take  her  out  .  her  sister  living  a  more sheltered  life  ,  one  bound  by  strict  bedtimes  &  after  school  acting  classes  or  rehearsals  .  unable  to  say  no  ,  despite  knowing  she  should  ,  reese  brought  savannah  along  –  letting  her  sister  borrow  her  clothes  ,  the  two  starting  early  with  a  bottle  of  grey  goose  as  they  got  ready  .  

reese  always  had  a  tendency  to  loose  herself  in  a  party  ,  letting  the  night  drag  her  wherever  it  wanted  .  losing  sight  of  savannah  had  been  her  first  mistake  .  telling  savannah  to  have  a  good  time  ,  try  something  new  had  been  her  second  mistake  .  not  being  there  had  been  her  third  &  final  mistake  ,  savannah’s  introduction  to  a  line  of  cocaine  her  finale  .  the  screams  of  someone  call  911 still  keep  reese  up  at  night  –  remembering  vividly  what  it  felt  like  to  see  her  sister’s  body  limp  on  someone’s  bed  .  the  od  unexpected ,  the  line  bad  –  mixed  with  something  too  strong for  someone  so  pure to  handle  .  &  reese  was  left  to  blame herself  .  she  killed  her  sister  .  

the  world  mourned  the  loss  of  savannah  leblanc  .  reese’s  relationship  with  her  mother  more  estranged  ,  casting  the  blame  on  her  just  as  she  had  already  .  she  took  a  6  month  hiatus  from  vlogging  ,  reese  unable  to  do  anything  but  drink  herself  into  a  coma  like  sleep  .  it  was  far  easier  to  numb  herself  ,  bags  under  her  eyes  hidden  by  sunglasses  .  

her  re-entry  online  had  shocked  everyone  .  her  vlog’s  no  longer  carrying  the  light  air  despite  how  badly  she  tried  to  force  it  .  reese  no  longer  the  same  ,  more  self  deprecating  than  before  & much  more reckless  .  her  love  of  vlogging  no  longer  stemmed  from  pure  enjoyment  ,  but  a need to  be  seen  ,  to  no  longer  feel  alone  .  convinced  that  she  was  a  hurricane  ,  destroying  everyone  she  could  ever  get  close  to  .  yet  unable  to  bring  herself  to  care  for  her  safety  because  it should’ve been  her  that  night  ,  not  savannah  .

reese  has  a  blatant  disregard  for  herself  ,  willing  to  push  the  boundaries  so  far  for  the  sake  of  a  thrill  ,  to  feel  something  beyond  the  suffocating  culpability  that  feels  like  a  choke  hold  around  her  neck  . & if  she  ends  up  not  coming  back  from  it  ,  who  cares  right  ?  

she  still  pays  her  sister’s  phone  bill  ,  never  missing  a  beat  –  texting  her  updates  ,  rambles  ,  apologies  .  the  texts  signed  with  their  infamous forever  &  always  .   

so  !  i’m  currently  working  on  a  lil  connection  page  with  ideas  ,  but  for  now  please  accept  this  mess  💛

[highladyluck]

Third Age Relics: Lord of Chaos Plot Contest

Continuing the theme, here's a “Lord of Chaos Plot Contest“ winner (Best Balefire/T'A'R/Swordplay Category). If you've been reading everything in the Third Age Relics tag you should get the plot-essential rawsfrj community in-jokes, but I'll put in some direct links as well.

Submission 17 - Bill Garrett

The Lords of Chaos

Sammael sat back from his ter'mineal and blinked his weary eyes. Keeping up on the happenings and speculations in the world was certainly hard work, made no easier by his insistence on cataloging all the happenings and having to give people the same answers repeatedly to their dumb questions. Ah, he'd be happy to balefire any of them at a moment's notice, but destroying any of them would only make more work for himself.

"Staying up late?" a woman's voice behind him said as he stared vacantly at the device on his desk.

Reaching for Saidin, he spun in his swivel chair. Behind him, floating over a floor littered with messy notes, odiferous pizza boxes and a few dozen half-empty su'da cans, was a gateway opening to someplace else. Inside it he glimpsed a Very Small Animal.

"You! I thought that silly mortal woman had succeeded in destroying you, Lanfear!" he exclaimed roughly.

"She could only dream to be so lucky," Lanfear replied smoothly. "As it turned out, she was very useful. She fetched quite a handsome price -- my freedom. I've been through hell and half of Georgia. It was even worse than the lines at course registration." She decided to change the subject. "I see you're still hacking away. Why don't you ever get a life, Sammael? Certainly there's someplace you could go, even in a backside-of-forever place such as Blacksburg."

"You shouldn't be so cavalier with me, Lanfear. I have a hold over you. I know about Piglet."

"Yes. Well," said Lanfear uncomfortably. "I wish Asmodean were still with us. He always had such good ideas. It was he who suggested the idea for the first hoax, wasn't it? So many people fell for our concoction about the creator. Yes, it's very important that we continue our plans to deceive the rest of the land."

Both Forsaken turned as they sensed another gateway opening. The fabric of reality seemed to stretch apart, revealing a spartan room occupied by a tall man. Where his eyes and mouth and .sig should have been, there were only flames. He wore a goofy purple beret with the cryptic runes of the Old Tongue scrawled across it, reading "Terps".

"Ishemail!" Lanfear and Sammael exclaimed in unison.

"Reports of my death were widely exaggerated," he said wistfully. "Of course, you've got to take everything with a grain of salt. As I've always said, your mileage may vary."

"Well, Ish, I really though Rand had got you in that last fight. You danced 'Curmudgeon Flames the Group', he came back with 'Newbie Quotes the Sig' and 'Needless Hundred-Line Cascade'. I thought you were a real goner right then and there."

"I survived. Tastes vary, you know."

All three turned as yet another gateway opened into their assemblage. Behind this extradimensional portal, shrouded in mist, was a shadowy figure partially obscuring yet another shadowy figure behind it. "Ah, my children, how nice of you to come. I am your lord and master!"

"You cheap impostor!" shouted Sammael. "We've unmasked you but still you hound us. There's a cure for that..." Sammael shared a quick look with the other two Forsaken and suddenly three bolts of brilliant light hurled through the gateway, converging upon the shadowy figure there. A resounding ZOT! was heard and both the figure and the gateway suddenly winked out of existence.

"Bravo," taunted a new voice, "I'm sure the Oracle will be happy to see that you've learned that Balefire goes 'ZOT!'"

All three Forsaken whirled around to see the man who taunted them. It looked like Padan Fain, but he was wearing upon his head something that resembled a bucket. At his back was a darkened glass cabinet, rows of small lights blinking inside it. An odd tether connected the bucket to the cabinet. They weren't able to sense his weaving because, in fact, he hadn't opened gateways like they had. He just seemed to just be there, or rather, the image of him floated above the floor, but still gave the appearance of his presence.

"How did you get here?" demanded Ishemail. "I thought this was a moderated group."

"Mwahaha, I have ways that none of you know about. I am a far older power than you think, a far more powerful power than you think! Were you there when I stood on the wall in Aridhol and--"

"Please," interrupted Sammael, "you sing even worse than I do. Just drop that hackneyed prophetic bullshit and tell us if you've thought of anything new."

"Nope. Nothing. Look, I already fooled the entire world with my last hoax, so what do you expect of me now? Fool the Creator Himself?"

"As a matter of fact," mused Ishemail, "that might be an interesting idea. But what can we do?"

"What if we convince him that the next Age has started already?" suggested Sammael. "Then Rand won't defeat us, and we'll get to rule."

"How are we going to make him believe that?" asked Ish.

"We'll need to give him one of those bogus timelines we drew up.

"Yeah, like the one where Tam al'Thor turns out to be Jain Farstrider," Lanfear chimed in. "You know, the one where the Breaking of the World is off by a few centuries, Moiraine had an alibi for the Darkfriend Social, and Bela actually ends up in five places at the same time."

"That old mare sure seems to get around," joked Fain. He belched ceremoniously and smiled. Lanfear wrinkled her nose.

"Okay, so it's a Plan," said Ishemail. "This should be even more fun than the first one!"

[multi-fandom-dreams]

Always With You - Father Dean Imagine

Status: Not Requested

Warnings: parent death, drunk driving, social services, parent losing custody of a child

Word Count: 1,778

Music Suggestion: Safe & Sound (From the Hunger Games) - Taylor Swift, The Civil Wars

After your mother had died in a horrid hit and run, your father Dean and uncle Sam did everything that they possibly could to keep you in their custody. They were unprepared for the wrath of your mothers parents back in Italy. 

You were six years old and the light of your fathers life. You helped to keep his head in line and you were the final thread of his sanity. Even your uncle Sam benefited from the love you shared. You were their hope and everything more.

It was not to last.

---

Your dad knew your mother well, besides the one night stand. She had kept him in your life from the moment that she was made aware of her pregnancy. He’d always told himself he’d be unable to be a father but the second he laid his eyes on you, he experienced a love like no other. 

Your uncle Sam was primarily angry about the whole situation. Being the former black sheep of the family, he recognised the draw backs of having a hunter for a parent and didn’t want you to feel left behind or forgotten, even if it meant never having a father. Yet, when Dean brought you home for the first time, Sam’s only instinct was to hold you close and kiss your rosey cheeks. 

Of course, when your mother became aware of the Winchester lifestyle, she wanted to place your under her wing and you protect you from whatever was out there until your final breath. But, as she recognised the fact that monsters weren’t the only dangers in life and that a threat could be a person walking by in the street, she reluctantly opened up to the idea of occasional weekend visits. 

They were not to be forever.

---

Years had now passed since your first ‘sleepover at daddy’s house’ when you were eight months, and now you were dropped off every Friday that your dad could take you and picked up on the Sunday night. It was in most cases, the light of your week. 

“Daddy!” You squealed, running into the arms of your bear of a father. 

“(Y/N)” He squealed back in the same tone, spinning you round. 

Once he placed you down you tackled Sam’s leg, still not being able to reach his waist. “How are you still so tiny at six?” Sam would joke, ruffling your hair.

“You’re too big.” You’d cutely defend yourself, poking him in the knee. 

Cas was an odd one to you. You knew he wasn’t the same as your mum, dad or uncle but you strongly aware of the fact that he was the same as family. 

“Hello Cassie.” You’d say in his voice, mimicking the gravel sound he made. 

“Hello (Y/N)” Cas would say in a formal voice, oblivious to the fact that you were six and your manners came from your father (so they were non-existent).

A majority of your weekend consisted of playing hide and seek with your dad and uncle, confusing Castiel with board games your mum had packed in your suitcase, cooking with Sam and dancing to rock music with your dad. 

It was the most fun you had. Yes, your mother made you laugh and giggle with her tickle attacks but to you, nothing beat at weekend at Dad’s.

That was until your mothers death.

---

You were playing in your bedroom while your mother watched reality TV in the living room. She yawned and stretched her stiff bones; working three jobs often wore her out and brought her to her tether but seeing you waiting at the school gates to be picked up and talk about your day made everything worth it. 

That day, she planed on finally buying you the purple trainers you’d wanted for god knows how long. When your mothers best friend came round to watch you for a couple of hours, your mum came into your bunny-decorated room and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Be good.” She said, before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You too.” You responded, sharing a toothy grin at the sight of her smile. 

That would be the last ever moment you shared with your mother. 

--- 

She’d been crossing the road when the local drunk decided to swerve to the other side of the road to avoid the traffic lights, knocking your mother off her path. 

When Dean received the call from your mother’s best friend to rush to the hospital, he felt a weight of guilt as he was unable to as he was on the other side of the country, following up on a case. 

Sadly, your mother’s best friend had to explain that your mum had passed and it wasn’t until two nights after that you became wrapped up in your father’s arms. 

“I’m so sorry baby.” Your dad said softly, tucking you as close as he could into his chest as he laid down in your bed in the bunker. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

“It’s ok daddy.” You whispered out through tears and snuggling into your dad, not truly understanding why your dad was apologising. Your innocence often warmed your fathers soul, but tonight, it only layered the guilt. 

He’d let you down, and not for the last time.

---

When it came to custody, your uncle and father thought that there was no doubt about it and that even though their lifestyle was dangerous, they’d have no worries about having to suffer the loss of you been taking away. They could not have been more wrong.  

When your grandparents came from Italy to attend the funeral of your mother, the looks and comments they gave your father and uncle set out the path for a bitter battle for you.

It began withe small acts - asking who you preferred staying with (grandma and grandad or dad and Sam), questioning you on what time dad put you to bed or what he put in your school lunches. It quickly escalated to your grandmother keeping a record of when your dad was late to pick you up or when your uncle lost track of you as you played in the park. 

After a while, you father and uncle were told by social services that you could no longer stay in the bunker and that you had to stay with your grandparents for five out of the seven days of the week as Dean’s parenting style was deemed unsuitable ‘during a period of grief for a child’.

“But she’s mine.” Your father would growl every time your grandfather came to pick you up on the Sunday night.

“No, she was our daughters.” Your grandfather would always respond, luring you out of the bunker.

Like normal, your father would bite back his words and tears as his hugged you goodbye, the separation hurting him more and more with each end to each visit. However, one day, an argument broke out and compared to normal, Sam was not able to prevent Dean from lashing out and pushing your grandfather, thus causing his hip to give out and the police to be called.

Then, the four were summoned for the court date.

---

During the wait, you’d being staying with your grandparents for over a month and when you saw your father and uncle, you attempted to run towards them and be picked up and span round as you usually would be when they saw you. Sadly, your grandmother pulled you back and into the court room, your fathers smile fading from his face. 

The court trial dragged on for several hours as each guardian involved recited their reasons to have custody over you. When it was your turn to recite what it was like staying at your dads on a podium which was far to high for you, you glanced at your dad and uncle and sent them the biggest smile you could. They responded with even larger ones.

“So, (Y/N), what’s it like staying at daddy’s?” Your grandparents lawyer asked you as sweetly as possible. You didn’t like her.

“Awesome.” You simply responded, earning a chuckle on your uncle’s behalf.

“I mean, what do you guys do to have fun?” That question would lead to the ban on your father and uncle ever seeing you again.

All you had done was answer honestly. 

---

“I don’t understand why I can’t see my daddy!” You cried, pushing your grandmother away from you.

“You know why my sweetie! Taking you out shooting, making up all the nonsense about Castiel being an angel and the moving around - oh my goodness - what kind of parent does that!” She’d cry in answer to your question, throwing up her arms to be dramatic. 

The final time in which your father was given permission to see you was at the airport before your flight to your new life in Italy. You didn’t quite comprehend the fact that you were never going to see them again and as far as you were concerned, you were simply going on holiday.

So, when your grandmother and grandfather watched like hawks as your father and uncle approached you, tears dwelling in their eyes, you only wanted to comfort them.

Sam gave you the best and biggest hug he could manage, never wanting to let you go. You returned it as well as you could, anything to make them feel better. “It’s only a holiday Sammy.” You sweetly explained, playing with the ends of his hair as he brought himself down to your level, hands running over your cheeks. “I know. Promise you’ll be good and wont forget me?” Sam asked. “Of course I wont silly!” You stated. He returned with an emotional but weak smile.

When your father kneeled down, you could recognise the pain in his eyes. “What’s wrong daddy?” You asked, becoming upset at the sight of his tears. “Nothing baby, I just don’t like it when you go away.” He barely managed to choke out, running his fingers through your short locks as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m always with you.” You comforted him, placing a kiss to his cheek. 

Just like the first time he met you, he placed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you.” He uttered, sitting up as your grandmother moved forward to take you away.

“Right back at you!” You yelled out through a laugh as your grandmother took your hand and pulled you towards the terminal. 

As you waved and turned around, not realising that you’d never see your father or uncle again, Dean replayed the words in his head as much as he could.

“I’m always with you.”

[thehouseofjohndeaf]

How did this happen?

(photo cred)

The global pandemic has shed a light on some misconceptions regarding individualism and anti-authority.  The line between anti-authority and anti-science has been blurred during a major public health crisis putting health officials and medical experts in the driver’s seat.  This has led to major outcries against stay-at-home advisories, the closing of non-essential businesses, and mask mandates.  The groups of people who are against the public health regulations are primarily right-wing, and are viewing these precautions as government overreach, despite the fact that the republicans have current control of the federal government.  The current president has found ways to pawn off responsibility to the governors of individual states, and we see the outcry mostly coming from those living in blue states.  These are primarily Americans who are part of a spectrum of right leaning politics, and identify as conservative, libertarian, alt-right, and republican.  Despite all these identities and beliefs there is also a heavy anti-authoritarian and anti-government overtone to these outcries.  How is this?  How have right leaning individuals started believing they are the real anti-establishment counterculture, holding a firm belief that the left are the true authoritarians?

First, this starts with one of the biggest misconceptions in America; most people believe the liberals are the left.  This is not true.  Liberals are the center.  The US does not currently have a left-wing party.  Instead we have a centrist party that houses both the center and the left, this causes both and left and center to constantly lean further right.

The graph above, from Quartz Media, shows where the 2020 democratic candidates fall on the political spectrum as opposed to the incumbent republican president.  The DNC continues to be a right-wing organization while being only slightly left of the republican party.  The final two democratic candidates during the 2020 primaries were on opposite sides of the spectrum of the democratic party, a centrist and a leftist.  The same thing that happened in 2016.  The DNC ultimately gave the nomination to the centrist, because they are a centrist organization.

This next graph shows how the US major party candidates of 2020 compare to political parties in the UK.  As we can see, the conservative right-wing of the UK is in line with the sitting republican US president, the centrist liberal democrats of the UK align with the majority of the US democratic candidates, and the UK’s leftist labour party is even further left than the left leaning outliers of the US democrats.

This misconception that the left is liberal in the US has led us to believe that our current definitions of right and left have a chasm of differences between them, when they are in fact all in the same wheelhouse.  The republicans appear authoritarian yet successful because they are unapologetically right-wing and will stir the pot and make a lot of noise to get their way, whereas the democrats appear authoritarian yet incompetent because they are centrists who would more often rather keep the peace with a steady-as-she-goes approach than stir up actual progressive change.  Democrats will pretend to be leftist, inciting progressive change, all while bombing innocents overseas and allowing their own citizens’ water to be poisoned.  Republicans will explain to you why they all deserved it.  It’s the same song played on a different instrument.

Since the left are the outliers, they are viewed as radicals whose ideas would never work in the western world.  This has gone so far as to target anyone who identifies with politics left of center as the “alt-left”.  And yet, every other major western nation has some degree of socialism working for the people in the form of state funded healthcare programs, prison reform, welfare, child tax benefits, pension systems, social housing, and public education.  The US even embraces some of these things, we just refuse to call it socialism or fund it properly, we refuse to allow the right and center to be tainted by the left.

It seems a relatively simple explanation for certain groups of people to be outraged by public health officials making drastic changes to our daily lives; the effects on their income, social and mental health, as well as the economy.  The question is, how is this viewed as anti-authoritarian if the outcry is both in support of the current political party with the most government control and yet also against government overreach enacted by these same people?

For the older generations and those who consume media in a traditional sense, it appears a healthy diet of Fox News and an overall distrust of the “liberal” or “mainstream” media would lead to mass misinformation and a skewed sense of reality.  For the younger generations who grew up on the internet, a diet of reactionary propaganda and alt-right message boards will lead them down a rabbit hole of misinformation.  Both have a distrust for “liberal” media and have a skewed concept that the liberal media is a leftist organization with an agenda to dismantle their freedoms.  Ultimately, this is one way we may arrive at the concept that liberals, who are really centrists but we think they’re leftists, are trying to implement an authoritarian regime of socialist communism, when in reality the liberals have a more middle-of-the-road approach to reactionary thought, which causes conservatives and other right-wing theorists to distrust any form of organized press while they congregate online and adopt conspiracy theories to help them untie the mental knots they tied for themselves in the first place.  Really, the only way for new age conservatives to believe the lies they’re churning out is for there to be some conspiracy at the center, because their views cannot coexist with reality.

But still, how did we get here?  How did we brew a force of pro-conservative anti-establishment?

There was a lot of angst in the post-9/11 world for our youth, as a counterculture emerged against the Iraq War and government oversight including the patriot act and the NSA.  Anarchist thought gave birth to post-anarchism, as anarchism coexisted in a technologically advanced world.  How do we grapple with the concepts of individual freedom and collective living when we’re tethered to companies to provide products that keep us connected and informed?  Even prior to this, most anti-authority groups understood liberalism and conservatism to be of the same breed.  In 2002 Against Me! released the album Reinventing Axl Rose, Laura Jane Grace sings, “Baby, I’m an anarchist, you’re a spineless liberal…” a song referencing the 1999 WTO protests in Seattle.  If one had the misconception that liberalism is leftist, they may interpret this lyric incorrectly.  If liberal is left, then liberalism is more attune with socialism, meaning right-wing and libertarian thought would be opposite liberalism, and ultimately one might come to the conclusion that anarchism is more aligned with right leaning politics than left leaning politics.  This person would then continue on to believe that the conservatives, the alt-right, libertarians, and republicans were the faces of anti-authority as part of their fringe groups.

It appears that millennials who grew up in a post-punk era, were clinging to the anti-establishment messages of the early 2000s during a Bush presidency.  They were eventually thrust into an Obama presidency of “progressive change” as some were just entering high school and beginning to pay attention to the world around them, while others were out on their own for the first time in their lives attending college, and the oldest of the generation were first entering the workforce.  This “progressive change” led to a lot of real social changes, what reactionaries call “PC culture”, and what the rest of us just recognize as time moving forward at a steady pace.  Nonetheless, the Obama presidency was rather anticlimactic.  While the liberals patted themselves on the back and slept peacefully to the social changes, the working poor and minorities saw little-to-no benefit, and the conservatives stewed in their rage as a smug charismatic black man was in charge of their beloved homeland.  Eventually, in the height of the Obama years the housing market crash brought libertarians, socialists, and anarchists together in the national movement, Occupy Wall Street.

The problem that eventually erupted was a disdain for liberalism, critically noted as neoliberalism.  While the left has been critical of liberalism and conservatism alike, the right used their view of liberalism as a leftist ideology to create a division at a time when everyone was coming together to recognize the stark inequalities of our current capitalist system, famously uniting us all as the 99%.  This tactic allowed libertarianism to be recognized as the opposite of authoritarianism, however a right-wing libertarian will likely have complete faith that the free market and corporations will do the most good over the individual workers.  We then wind up back at square one, with the corporations as the voices of authority.  When we become dependent on their products, or they come to as close to a monopoly as possible, the working class begins to lose their freedoms.  During the pandemic we’re witnessing this happen as huge corporations like Walmart and Target are open for business and able to adhere to public health and safety guidelines, whereas small businesses cannot remain open because they don’t have the proper space for social distancing or the funds for the required PPE.  The outcries against this have not been against Walmart or Target for hoarding their wealth and becoming some of the only stores able to sell clothes, books, electronics, toys and other nonessentials.  The outcry has been against public health officials for putting safety guidelines into practice in response to the virus.

A socialist response to this issue would have been for the government to provide PPE to small businesses so that they may remain open.  What we have is a libertarian response of letting the bigger fish eat the smaller fish, and the working class are footing the bill.  The current administration has put the majority of the power for economic recovery into the hands of corporations and the wealthiest individuals.  This is what is hurting the working class.  Yet the outrage has been against the public health officials who have put forth social distancing guidelines, stay-at-home advisories, and mask mandates.  None of these things are the reason for the economic turmoil we are experiencing, it’s the current administration's hands-off approach and ignoring small businesses.

The funds for small business loans were given directly to the banks to distribute to their communities.  Problems with this tactic were immediately recognizable.  The banks were more likely to offer loans to the businesses who already had accounts with them, and were more likely to award loans to a business they felt would easily pay back this loan.  Franchises were also recognized as single entities and rather than the corporations bail out their own chains, individual franchise owners were dependent on government funded bank managed loans.  This is how the right and center handle social issues, they give money to the already wealthy and ask them to provide a service to those in need, allowing very little relief to reach those who need it most.

So no, being anti-science in the midst of a global pandemic is not rebellion, nor is it remotely anti-authority.  It is playing directly into the hands of the elite.  If you’re protesting government overreach and the sitting president encourages the protests with messages like “LIBERATE MICHIGAN”, it’s quite obvious the government approves of your actions.  If you’re protesting government overreach while wearing merchandise you purchased from the sitting president, and holding signs in support of him, that irony is so palpable, it’s concerning that so many people cannot see it.