#at the same time and only acts one out by choice. this thing has access to the shrimp genders and probably only puts them on for fun

[ireneaesthetic]

Pointing out little moments and details of my fav s3 scene.

choir practice scene • episode 2

this scene caught me so off guard, in the best way possible.

it only took simon's "you should do an activity you actually like" for wilhelm to drop everything and choose getting to spend more time with him!

simon's reaction at wille joining the choir was also mine: he can't believe his eyes and keeps looking back at him with the brightest smile on his face. and simon shifting wille's attention to where the song lyric is bc it's all new to him is adorable.

wilhelm's little proud smirk between the kisses while simon is so into it: he knew and imagined simon's surprised and happy reaction to all this, but i bet he was thriving to see it up until this very moment. so he might just be thinking that he made the best choice of his life.

having to practice and wait for everyone to leave was probably torture for simon, when all he really wanted to do since wille came in was this (simon's main love language is clearly acts of service btw *cough*). he felt important, cared for, loved - and couldn't wait to reciprocate it.

also, he's holding the key chain and happens to do the middle finger with the same hand. if you look at it as a way of saying 'mind your own business' to us is quite funny.

simon setting the rhythm and wilhelm fully going along with it. they don't even separate their lips before leaning in for another kiss - melting into it. they literally said 'no need to catch air bc we're already breathing each other in'.

simon not breaking physical contact even once. his hands are the third main character in this scene: they act like a glue for their bodies and carry so much passion. it is peak chemistry.

going on his tiptoes to push himself as close as possible and clinging to wille for dear life is the most simon thing he's ever done. love really brings out the cuddliest version of him.

smiling into the kisses and out of the kisses? insane of them if you ask me (i support it) (keep doing it lovers).

wille smiling and biting his lip bc he's the one overwhelmed by simon's presence now. physical touch is his love language and he's flooded with simon's - he must feel the luckiest boyfriend on earth.

one of their greatest proofs of love has always been to provide each other's comfort by being exactly what they lack receiving from other people or what they need most of the times - it's a constant learning of how to give and take.

they can't get enough of it: it's not even only about the kissing but more about their need to just keep pulling the other closer, leaning into each other, slowing their movements to not leg go yet but take time to touch and deeply feel instead - wille's face speaks for itself. this hug is so intimate ugh.

it's finally shown a glimpse of wille's hand on simon's back! it was always there obv but it's nice to see it more properly.

wilhelm obsessing over simon's neck and simon who tilts his head back to make it more accessible. wille could've done it all and trace the path with kisses - simon wished - but the boy knew what he was doing!

the way simon looks up at him and wille rubs their noses back and forth, keeping his eyes on him, gives me butterflies.

they're super affectionate and it's the easiest thing for them to do. the intimacy that comes with their whispering, their own personal space becoming one for both of them to share bc it's safer, warmer, a lot more comfortable. everything is such a manifesto of how much they genuinely adore each other - it's what makes this the it scene for me.

their bottom lips touching are sooo *internally screaming*.

wilhelm stands still to let simon's lips brush past his own and simon's cheek resting against wille's lips to enjoy the feeling a little longer. they look so peaceful.

it happens after wille's "i like listening to you sing": they went from "he likes it when i sing" / "i do too, don't i?" (locker room's fight in s2) to wilhelm actually telling him that listening to his voice is one of the main reasons he joined the choir. it has to be extremely special for simon to finally hear it.

idk if it's just my mind making this up but let's pretend simon is kissing wille's neck here!

wilhelm picking simon up by the waist to carry him elsewhere and keep the thing going more privately. that's my wille.

can you believe this is the face of someone who's saying that he needs to go? to not miss the bus? he just looks crazy in love to me.

wille's laugh is cute! and simon throwing his stuff on the floor bc the priority was to push his boyfriend against the lockers to make out will never not be funny.

also, @allthefakepeople once said the only thing that could've made this scene even more perfect is if simon paused when walking away and ran back to wille to steal a quick goodbye kiss - ahhh i'd have been so here for it!

#sorry not sorry for rambling #this scene deserves all the praise #young royals #young royals analysis #yr s3 #choir practice scene #wilhelm x simon #wilmon

[whetstonefires]

Underrated element of where Jiang Cheng is re: wwx after everything is that they always had a sort of dual relationship. Two different relationship premises, superimposed on one another.

There's the one where they grew up together, as close as brothers, beating each other up and complaining and being one another's closest companions, sharing a bedroom as kids and eating at the same family dinner table, actively encouraged by Jiang Fengmian to interact as equals.

And then there's the one where Wei Wuxian was in service to Jiang Cheng's family. Not as a servant--Jiang Fengmian absolutely refused to do that, even if he couldn't adopt him. But as a disciple of Jiang Cheng's father and recipient of his charity, as Jiang Cheng's future right hand and most trusted subordinate.

It's a vertical relationship, intimate in its own way but with very strict expectations about what obligations flow in what directions; they are not identical and reciprocal as between friends and equals.

(It's my opinion that Jiang Fengmian's core deal was a deep-seated discontent with the hierarchies he was at the top of, without access to any way to actually deconstruct them or even coherently articulate his opposition. Wei Changze was his dear friend, and no one thinks that's a good enough reason for him to treat Wei Changze's son like his own, because Wei Changze was also his servant, and you can't make that circle square. That's not a way you're allowed to love.)

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were like brothers; Wei Wuxian served Jiang Cheng.

The personal relationship was always the most important one. To them, in their hearts. But it was the other one that was real, that had weight in the world.

And it's important to understand that neither can be held up as more factual than the other, even though they conflict. Both relationships existed, and had power.

So then when Jiang Cheng chose to hate Wei Wuxian and articulate his grudge against him, he chose to do it in the language of fealty. Because as far as he knew, his case there was secure, watertight, and it wouldn't expose him emotionally or politically.

And those are the terms in which he's been condemning him all this time: for abandoning the Sect, for ingratitude, for lack of loyalty.

For fuckups, too, and poor judgment, but some of that now turns out to have been justified and some of it was mostly the fault of enemies behaving badly, or even Jiang Cheng himself allowing himself to be pushed into making unworthy choices.

And it was all for his sake.

The thing, the thing in my opinion, about what Wei Wuxian did, about the core transfer and his silent self-destruction around keeping it secret, is that that is a hideous thing to have done between two people who love each other, as an act of love. Beautiful, but awful. As the man who was like a brother to him, Jiang Cheng has a great deal of standing to object to it.

But as an act of vassalage, it's basically perfect.

If Wei Wuxian were only what he formally was to Jiang Cheng, if he is interpreted through a lens of fealty and obligation, he did exactly what he should have done, and went beyond what duty actually required. And went to his death silently, allowing himself to be judged, taking all the burden on himself rather than let harm come to his lord.

Like, obviously Jiang Cheng was harmed by the part where Jin Zixuan got manslaughtered and Jiang Yanli walked into the line of fire in situations where Wei Wuxian was resorting to violence and probably shouldn't have, but those are one step removed from the core issue. In terms of Wei Wuxian's intentional choices around Jiang Cheng himself, at the times he was feeling betrayed and abandoned Wei Wuxian was in fact being impossibly, poetically loyal, an absolute cliche about it.

But only in terms of the hierarchical form of their relationship.

Which means that even though Jiang Cheng has a lot of reasons to still be mad at Wei Wuxian, his actual complaints that he's centered for thirteen years are basically wiped out by the revelation of Wei Wuxian's sacrifice.

Wei Wuxian was in fact doing the tragic hero loyal vassal thing, which very much includes being misunderstood and slandered by the world. (Chenqing as a name choice absolutely references this expectation, and the idea that Jiang Cheng specifically will never understand that Wei Wuxian was trying to help him first and foremost all along; he is not subtle.)

The debts Jiang Cheng has been spitefully calling in and considering defaulted were already long paid.

So if at this point Jiang Cheng keeps pursuing that same line of rhetorical attack, now that he knows, he'll be putting himself morally in the wrong, and he knows it. But if he pivots to something else, he'll both be signalling the shape of that secret to the entire world and looking like a prize idiot.

Which is already how he feels.

To actually address the remaining grievances between them, which are considerable, would require releasing those safe, open grudges to Wei Wuxian's face and then reclaiming him as a loved one. Which is, one could fairly say, more than anyone could expect.

Which is why Wei Wuxian told him he didn't have to.

Which leaves Jiang Cheng at something of an impasse.

#hoc est meum #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #mdzs #meta #their vertical relationship was always the secure one #the one they could put into words #the one Jiang Cheng could COUNT on #and it's gone and it's what destroyed everything between them #the other relationship could be salvaged in some form #but jiang cheng would have to WANT to #and ofc he does but does he want it enough to choose to? #when wei wuxian isn't choosing him? #and ofc wwx doesn't feel jiang cheng is his to choose #the timing of the revelation is so ironic because imo #wwx spends a lot of the book processing his grief for himself #and the life he had before #and his relationship with jiang cheng #and he let it go and accepted he could never have it back after the debacle at Lotus Pier #only for jiang cheng to be forced to reexamine everything basically immediately lmao #but like wwx is not in a place where he can meet you halfway anymore jiang wanyin #he JUST got closure #it's too soon to go cutting open scars on a man who never lets himself grieve if he can help it #because if you grieve you stop and when you stop you die

[sixofwandsss]

PAC: How will you change the world?

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

¹

You are some sort of activist that speaks out against beliefs that do not align their truth. You fight against belief systems that are not rooted in empathy nor compassion. Belief systems that are only rooted in judgment and hatred. 

You are basically an attack to society’s inner child wounds. However, you do not speak up unless you are certain about the beliefs you are questioning. You are being represented by The Hermit card, which reveals your analytical and introspective nature. You possess the ability to get to the root of any problem, which contributes to your arguments, that end up being quite reasonable. You call into doubt the beliefs that the world built its foundation on a long time ago.

People either perceive you as a madman or as a genius. Some see you as an individual that is not fearful of others' negative gaze and is quite innovative. Faithful to their position. Some may see you as too liberal, progressive or revolutionary. You undoubtedly will stir things up.

Your voice is a catalyst for change as it is forging a new path where new beliefs are able to be discussed openly. You are a trailblazer for many new-age ideas that will change the way we see our own world. 

Your voice heals, people can often identify with your message and are able to heal societal wounds that they did not even realize that they had. You inspire people to say their truth, to do the same as you did.

The universe's advice is to surround yourself with a community you feel at ease at. People who allow you to speak about your doubts without any sort of judgment.  Don’t ignore your intuition if it tells you not to trust a certain belief, you are most definitely right about it. You have a gift of spotting questionable ones.

Being in the public eye might make you more susceptible to others' negative emotions. Do not suppress them if you feel uneasy at times. But take into account that fighting for what’s right is not always the most emotionally pleasing experience. Learn emotional intelligence to manage your emotions. Put all your anger into your desired cause.

²

There is a certain energy about you. You believe that the only way you will be at peace is when you finally leave this incarnation. You believe that you will only be happy if you become your highest spiritual self.

Nevertheless, you can still get a lot of wisdom in this realm. The physical realm. Your soul chose to experience this. Use it to connect to nature, mother earth.

You can be in tune with your spiritual side even when you try to access your more tangible goals. It’s all about balance really.

Don’t run away from your physicality. There’s a lot you can get from having a physical body: you can explore your senses and experience intimacy. Feel pure raw feelings, for example.

Spiritual knowledge can come from your feelings, which you can feel thanks to your body. It not only comes from the voice in your mind. It also comes from your sensations. You intellectualize spirituality too much.

Once you work this things out, you will affect people around you like a sort of awakening/wake up call.

People who need to be more in touch with their spiritual side will be inspired to take a more mindful and intuitive approach, whereas people who need to be more in touch with their physicality will be inspired to take the same actions you took. You will remind people of their own imbalance.

Duality is always present. Light and Dark, Peace and Chaos, Feminine and Masculine. Physical and Spiritual. You cannot go to the extremes and still expect to be living at your highest potential.  You’ll learn this and inspire people to do the same.

The universe’s advice is not to act without any purpose, Reflect. Reflect on you actions and choices. Why are you acting on them? What has it led you to? 

Don’t be afraid of dealing with your past. Most importantly, be honest with yourself

You can always end toxic cycles and create your own happiness. The universe has your back. You are loved.  Trust your gut when it comes to what makes you feel good. Do what soothes you. What makes you truly happy.

New beginnings are coming for you. You will inspire people’s new beginning.

³

You, my dear, are represented by the Queen of Pentacles. This means that you were born to create your own style of success. Meant to create your safety net, your own beautiful little place in the world. It is in your veins.

You are meant to build a foundation around what makes you feel actually good. That is your kind of success. It is about pursuing things that fill your cup, not society's

You will change the world by being a person who brings emotional comfort to those around them. You wil be the catalyst for an emotional new beginning to the collective. Emotional clarity (you can call it that way).

You will bring a sense of awakening of some sort. Bringing positive feelings within society as the Page of Cups would. A jovial energy who lights every room he walks into, a kind-hearted youngster. 

You, the Page of cups, are often optimistic and faithful to your ideas. You do not care about society's expectations regarding who you should be or how you should behave. You do not dim your lights for others. You live life by your own terms

Having an almost innocent approach to life is the reason why people are inspired by your actions and try to imitate you. You challenge society's pessimism /nihilism. You definitely fall under a 'Sun person' Archetype.

You will make people go towards what they feel would make them the happiest. Going after their own definition of success without being pessimistic about it. Those around you will put their guards down to seek help when needed, to find community and collaboration when needed. Not mindlessly putting their energy into something just because society tell them to do so 

Seek joy and most importantly, authenticity (in order to stay true to your desires and needs)

with love, del <3

#pick a pile #free tarot #astro notes #astro observations #pick a card #tarotoftheday #pick a picture #pick a card reading #aquarius #piscis #scorpio #sagittarius #astro game #zodiac

[utilitycaster]

I really want to hear more, at the table or perhaps 4SD in March, about Ashton's agreement with Orym and indeed their even more cynical statement, that Imogen's going to inevitably be pulled towards Predathos whether she does her exploration willingly or resists, because I do think that Ashton's insight is really valuable here.

Ashton and Imogen have always made for a fascinating contrast. Both have complicated feelings about parents and abandonment which extend to their worldview and their relationship with the gods. Both have wondered about the source of their powers, which came at a profound physical and social cost.

I think where they diverge is that Ashton started the campaign believing that this was about the best it was ever going to get for them - staying in Krook House, with a weird nascent prickly friendship with FCG, drinking heavily and taking on odd jobs to pay off astronomical debt to Jiana Hexum. Ashton was not looking for a cure for his pain, nor meaning from it, early on. As they tell Laudna after a rough time fighting the Shade Mother, "Sometimes shit's just fucked up, and the only thing you can do because you didn't do anything fucking wrong, is get the fuck back up and do the exact same thing all over again knowing that there was nothing to learn." He sat on the Hishari/Ashari connection for weeks, never truly asking Orym but waiting until the information came to him in other ways. On the other hand, Imogen started the campaign profoundly curious; she is introduced trying to get into the Starpoint Academy to research the dreams and powers she's been dealing with for years, and her initial motivation for joining the team was to gain that access.

As time has gone on, this has slowly flipped, and I think Ashton is seeing Imogen settling into an indecisive rut. In addition, I think Imogen speculating that Liliana was a good person who simply got caught and overtaken by Predathos is raising alarms for them. After all, they just acted under the presumption that their parents had been well-intentioned people who made a mistake, and not only did it nearly kill them; the vision they had while unconscious indicated that their parents had simply done it out of a sense of self-importance. In a way, this feels like Ashton's form of protection: it is going to happen. The pain is going to be there. Are you going to make something with it, or will you simply let it catch you without your involvement?

For all their similarities, Ashton and Imogen didn't interact terribly often early in the campaign, so one of their earlier meaningful conversations is a recent one: the one where Imogen connected with the All-Minds-Burn. That is the Imogen Ashton believes can save them: the one who will decide to explore the world around her and rise to challenges, not the one who withdraws and shrinks from them. One who is not beholden to a romanticized idea of her mother who has never once lived up to those ideals in reality, but who rather makes her own choices. His line is delivered with its usual 6 Charisma; but the logic is sound.

#critical role #cr spoilers #ashton greymoore #imogen temult

[poughkeepsies]

We as a society have failed by not giving the dinner scene with Taylor the acknowledgment it deserves in the buddie moments hall of fame and I will now explain why. With 9-1-1, the golden rule is always to view the episodes' themes through the lens of the episode titles - almost every scene, call, and interaction can be traced to some interpretation of the episode title. With 511, it's clear that as the A plot of the episode, Eddie is the outsider looking in and this is also shown in the latter half of the dinner scene with him telling Buck to move on (now that I think about it, they're both outsiders in that scene. Eddie is alienating himself from the 118. Buck is being alienated from Eddie.) But in the first half of the dinner scene, with Taylor, Buck, Eddie, and Christopher around the table, Eddie is clearly not the outsider, Taylor is. What's more, being the outsider is her only role in that scene.

Food has always been a primary love language in 9-1-1, and, this scene being the first time we see Eddie cook a meal, it's clear that the choice to have Buck and Christopher eating it is just another way to highlight the family dynamics that exist between them, a family that is separate from the found family of the 118. Including Taylor in the scene could have been a way to symbolize her integration into the most intimate parts of Buck's life - Buck, Eddie, and Christopher are a package deal and Taylor being a part of that dynamic would narratively show her as on the same level as them (something to point out here - if this was any other show/ship, some would read this the other way around. Taylor is his girlfriend so it would be more significant to Eddie and Christopher's place in Buck's life to show them on the same level as Taylor. But this is 9-1-1 - the scene takes place in Eddie's house and leaves no room for doubt that Taylor is the one being allowed access.) But instead, the deliberate narrative choice was made to make Buck be the one to exclude her from the symbolism of the food. He tells her to eat before coming, presumably as a favor to her so she wouldn't go hungry, and because of this she's left awkwardly swirling her fork on her plate while everyone else digs in.

Which brings me to the main point of why I made this post and the most important most insane most brain-rotting part of this scene: Buck himself didn't eat before coming. He fully expected Eddie's food to taste like garbage and he still went in there and filled up his plate to the brim. He probably heard Eddie's excitement about finally learning how to cook and making an edible meal and steeled himself to shove every last spoonful down his gullet no matter the cost because Eddie wanted to make a meal for him. Because, and I cannot stress this enough, it's not about the food. It's about the act of making the food, making all that effort so your loved ones will eat well. It's about receiving the food and showing your appreciation for the labor of love that went into it. It's about taking care of someone and being taken care of, both of which require a vulnerability that hides nothing. And when that time came, Eddie sat there with a satisfied smile watching his boys eat and tease him, and Buck and Christopher were giddy with their enjoyment of the food and the chance to tease Eddie together. And Taylor sat there awkwardly making dessert jokes.

(the most important thing about the above post is that I came up with none of it and it all came from the beautiful brain of @colonoscopys, who peer-pressured me into making this post instead of her via my innate and all-encompassing desire to give her everything she wants)

#not my best but also idc i wrote this for one reason only #crazy this is also the same episode buck cheats on her with eddie's replacement and then asks her to move in #but we dont have time to unpack all that do we #weewoo brainrot #911 fox #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie

[neighboringheart]

saw someone mention synth-en Ratchet getting Bumblebee addicted to knots and my brain went a bit wild thinking about it and how Bumblebee would act after Ratchet gets the synth-en out of his system

after getting fucked against the wall, a desk, the berth, each time mercilessly locked onto that knot and pumped full of transfluid until it was all he could think about suddenly Ratchet is back to being his usual grumpy self and refuses to interface with him again especially how recklessly he had before but now Bumblebee needs it he needs to be ruthlessly pummeled and he needs to be filled with a fat knot after

there's no other Autobots who could fulfill his needs the same way so what other choice does he have but to scout out the Decepticons for some fun

after weeks of sneaking around and seeing far more of Starscream than he ever thought he would he finds out that out of all the Decepticons on earth the only one with a knot is Megatron the least accessible of all potential berth partners

but he's determined

more plans and weeks more scouting later and he finally hooks him

Bumblebee manages to get Megatron alone and they get into a scuffle but the whole time Bee is stringing him along turning his body in just the right ways giving his little door wings a little flap here and there just enough to get Megatron's attention

it isn't long before Megatron catches on to his intentions and gives him exactly what he wants taunting him the whole time for being such an easy target letting the enemy breed him like cattle right out in the open and for a moment he teases him saying that he shouldn't knot such a disobedient thing like him since the last thing he'd want is to be caught locked to the leader of the Decepticons but Bee just wraps his legs around Megatron's hips and pulls him in deeper so he has no other choice but to knot him when he overloads

technically he could have pulled out without much difficulty but it was worth it to hear that cute buzzing raise in pitch until his broken vocalizer clicked his cute spike splattering the both of them with his overload his valve lips stretched wide around the biggest knot he'd likely ever take

no one needed to know that he was their greatest enemy's newest spikesleeve

#nh feral posting #transformers #tfp #megabee #ratchbee #bumblebee #ratchet #megatron #valveplug

[aesethewitch]

Learning to Cook Like a Witch: From Recipe to Spell

Cooking and spellwork have a lot in common. Just as a witch might craft a spell from disparate odds and ends, so too might a cook create a meal. It's not such a jump to consider that any food, no matter how simple, can become a spell.

In my practice, the thing that differentiates a mundane action from a magical action is the doing. If I'm doing something just to do it, it may have a magical effect. But if I do the same thing with the understanding that it may have that magical effect, it will have that effect.

Therefore, to go from recipe to spell is a simple act: Cook with purpose. The particulars are a bit more involved, of course, as most things often are as you become more advanced.

You have to know what your ingredients are for. When cooking, you can't just throw things together and expect them to taste good with no technique or thought. What does a particular ingredient add to the mixture? Is it for flavor? Does it add or change the texture? Does it bind the other ingredients together or provide a base to be added to?

The same idea applies to spellcrafting. You can't just throw random things together and expect it to work. There has to be a pattern, an understanding, a purpose to what you include. If your materials don't apply to your goal, how on earth will they work?

Success in spellwork comes from the intersection of purposeful doing and appropriate material selection -- just like in successful cooking.

The art of taking a recipe and turning it into a spell is rather simple when it comes down to it. It requires two fundamental cooking skills:

Recipe reading and comprehension

Understanding how and when to make substitutions

If you'd like the food you make to still taste good, as well, you have to also understand what various ingredients taste like. Rosemary and mint might both be good for cleansing or purification, but they taste so vastly different that replacing one with the other will wildly alter your food.

You've got to choose wisely and within the bounds of your tastebuds. Cooking up magic is no good if you can't eat what you make!

If you'd like to read the extended version of this post, including an inside look at my method for turning recipes into spells and an exclusive recipe, check out my Ko-Fi! For as low as a one-time contribution of $1, you can get extended and early access to my work.

Or, if you'd like me to take a recipe of your choice and turn it into a spell or write you a recipe spell from scratch, I offer commissions!

#home witchcraft #practical witchcraft #recipes #spell recipes #my spells #my recipes #witchblr #kitchen witch #kitchen witchcraft #hearth witch #witchcraft #witch community #learning to cook #witch tips #beginner witch tips #food magic #food spells #food #fireball apple fritters #aese speaks #a glimpse into my everyday practice #now i'm off to make a pork roast for dinnerrrrrrrrrrr #ok BYE

[theluckywizard]

In the Shattering of Things, Ch. 66: Insolence

Summary: In the lead up to the peace talks at Halamshiral, Rose must navigate her strained, unresolved relationship with Cullen and settle into her role as leader as the consequences of her choices dog her and pressure to succeed mounts.

Fic Summary: Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke.

Excerpt under the cut 👇

“Fifty-one royals? Leliana, please tell me that number is in error,” says Cullen, practically choking as he looks over the budget for the affair. We’d been circulating the paper, and though I’m only starting to grasp the scale of the debt we’ve accrued in repairing Skyhold and rebuilding our army, Leliana’s sum is astonishing.

“They’re well worth the money.”

“Five times the fee of the other two combined? Surely this money could be better spent. I could buy a dozen ballistas for that amount.”

“If you can root out an assassin and collect vital secrets at an Orlesian ball with ballistas, you may have an argument.”

“It’s outrageous.” Cullen has been surly since he walked in the door, his brow gathered in a permanent frown. He’s in a dark enough mood that I have no desire to look at him, but professional courtesy requires it. And by his pained glances in my direction, he’s making the same agonizing effort.

Leliana counters. “We’re not just buying the services of spies in the kitchen and the guard. It’s not cheap to secure the work of those who can finagle access to the ball and the talks proper. The man I’ve hired is bringing along his retired partner. They’re unmatched. Nor will they provoke suspicion. They belong at the ball more readily than any of us.”

“And who might these assets be?” Cullen asks. “Andraste’s mercy.”

“Bards. Actors. Fidencio Frye and his associate, Gaubert L’Incroyable.”

“Fidencio Frye?” breathes Josephine, her hand alighting on her breast like the name awakened her very soul. 

“I thought you’d be excited, Josie,” notes Leliana.

“What do we need to know about them?” I ask.

Josie answers in a rush of unfettered enthusiasm. “Fidencio’s performances are inspired. Breathtaking. I last saw him in Sévigny —I’ve seen that probably three times with different casts and no one brought such tortured authenticity to the role. No one.” I’m familiar with the play but not the actor himself.

“Profoundly useful,” remarks Cullen drily.

“It is actually,” argues Leliana. “Such capable acting is part and parcel to bard work. They’ll be eyes and ears in places we can’t quite access. There’s no magnet for secrets quite like celebrity. People will be itching to flaunt their knowledge to them. To ingratiate themselves. We need them.”

“It is thrilling, no?” says Josephine, glancing at me.

“I suppose this is what you have in mind for Hawke as well?” I ask, still avoiding Cullen’s scowling eyes. “I don’t see a line item for him.”

“Hawke is— something different,” says Leliana. Certainly an understatement. “He’s no bard. He’s got a useful set of talents though. We need distractions and a way to move information around the party undetected. Josie and I think he’s the man for the job.”

“And you’ve already asked him?” 

DAFF CREW TAG LIST

“Not yet. He and I— well. Let’s just say that I think you’ll be more persuasive than any of us, Rose,” says Leliana. It’s such a pointed remark that I glance at her twice. When her eyebrow twitches and the corner of her mouth turns I become certain that she knows. Maker, it’s Leliana . Perhaps she’s known all along.

Tagging @monocytogenes for allowing me to borrow her excellent bards Fidencio and Gaubert! You can read their stories here!

Read the rest here!

Start the fic here 🏹

@warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren | @breninarthur | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures |

@ir0n-angel | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @nirikeehan | @oxygenforthewicked | @about2dance | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @blarrghe | @agentkatie | @delicatefade

#rose trevelyan #cullen x trevelyan #cullen rutherford #dragon age fan fiction #dragon age inquisition #in the shattering of things #hawke x trevelyan #cullenmance #wicked eyes wicked hearts prep #rose is having a bad time #cullen is having a bad time #hawke is having a... #listen it's rough #growing pains

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

As a therapist, an Autistic TM, and the trans child of a trans drag king, I spend a lot of time thinking about the concept of performativity, and frankly I think it gets a bad reputation despite its capacity as a subversive technique and tactic.

When we hear the word performativity, most of us think of the concept of being superficially engaged, of skin-deep participation, of wearing the aesthetic without being able to back it up by walking the walk. It has a quality of being inherently lesser and incomplete. "Performative allyship" is one of the more damning things one can be accused of in radical circles because it means you're all talk, no substance.

The thing is, performance has been such an integral part of so many subversive communities since their inception. Performance has been a crucial form of self-expression for those same communities for just as long. It has historically held layer upon layer of meaning, to the point that calling it superficial would be akin to calling yourself unobservant. At a certain point, using performance and performativity to define superficiality is deeply irresponsible and erasive of our own cultural contexts when the word superficial is *right there*.

Everything about me is performed. From my personality, to my social graces, to my gender presentation, to my political praxis, to my professional therapeutic presence, to my embodiedness, to my version of learned empathy, to my sexual practices and desires, to my morality. Without that performance, those things don't materially exist, and I intentionally and precisely craft each performance for very specific outcomes and effects. A good deal of that is probably the autism, but I have significant doubts that every single one of these elements of selfness are completely beyond the intentional creation of everyone, autistic or allistic.

Performance is intentional, chosen action. It is a meaningful act of self-creation. Any performance, embodied long enough, becomes selfhood. The belittlement of performativity, as far as I can tell, is a belittlement of one of the most transcendental and radical acts of self-narration, change-creation, and meaning-making we as human beings have access to.

And I imagine that the immediate response will be "but there are people who are only *pretending* to embody the spirit of the performance and that's who we're calling out when we call out performativity!"

To which I say: Let's say I believe you have a 100% success rate in identifying who's a true believer in the awkward midst of change-making and who's a wolf in sheep's clothing never intending to make good. Why does the performance, the tool of change making, the cultural heritage that serves us, have to become the origin point of confrontation? Why can't we do the work of trying to call people in without degrading the tools of disidentification and meaning-making? We do a disservice to everyone, including ourselves, when we suggest that intentional performance is somehow lesser than spontaneous action. It removes our own ability to conscientiously do the right thing while still learning what that specifically means in a given context, and as human beings there will always be something we are still learning about. It compels us to question our own authenticity and ability when imposter syndrome rears its head because imposter syndrome relies on the idea of intentional performance of role as distinct from innate knowledge of the same role. It contributes to sanism/ableism around low/no empathy comrades who intentionally choose to perform to high standards of morality and equitable praxis because somehow their choice to do so means less since they aren't also emotionally self-flagellating when they make a mis-step. It contributes to transphobia by forcing us to argue over whether or not gender is a performance and whether or not that means trans people's existence is valid when we could just accept that gender includes performativity for some, both cis and trans.

There are so many upsides to embracing notions of performance. I find myself wondering why doing so has remained so contentious up to this point. Especially when so much of the scholarship around marginality DOES embrace performativity. The contention seems to remain in the public sphere, and I'm curious where that comes from. Most importantly, I'm curious why anyone would want to cut themselves off from the primary form of self-creation. It feels very much like the sort of thing that got snuck in early on as a self-sabotaging element against the possibility of revolutionary meaning-making.

[panigamermauser]

Cut stuff thought part 4

Halsin and Minthara. Ending stuff(getting on the soapbox there to scream). Plus various smaller quests, gods options for clerics and paladins etc.

I very appreciate them adding Halsin as companion at all, so I am very forgiving of him having less content than others. But knowing he was supposed to have Druid Circle quest in Act3 makes me sad it was cut. 

First, it would tie into his ingame wishes to bring more of nature/civilization balance to Baldur's Gate. Also, that was probably where you could develop his romance. 

I am _personally_ fine with him not being committed to long-term relationship despite his big romantic words. I have a deep fear of commitment myself, no matter how in love I am. You talk marriage - I run off. So I feel seen, and I get how he feels in his current version. But for very same reason I am keenly aware how frustrating it can be to be with someone like me. 

So if his quest is restored, I really hope his romance gets more fulfilling and just as developed as others.

Speaking of others... What happened to Minthara is a crime. I do not even have her, and will never have her (because I - as a player - like tieflings too much to ever side against them). And still I feel she was done dirty. Cannot imagine how people who have her and love her feel.

This is just like Karlach situation. It should have been restored in Patch 1 already. Especially since she was there from Early Access, not a late addition like Halsin and Karlach. She should have been as polished as other primary companions. No words just indignation.

Not to mention that from meta perspective it would be so interesting to see a romanciable character who is already pregnant with someone else's child. That is a unique story. And makes her actual literal MILF too 😏 And the salt from gamer bros... Can you even imagine?! 🤣🤣🤣

Justice for Minthara NOW!!!

Withers revealed as Jergal is a small thing. Like, EVERYONE who knows dnd gods knows who he is anyways. But it would be a nice thing for new people to learn/look into.

And naturally all of the cut post-game stuff should not only be restored, but also expanded. 

Post-campaign discussion is a very important part of dnd. DM should tell you how you affected the state of the world in great detail. You should discuss what happens to your characters with other players. In case of BG3 the game is our DM and companions are our co-players. 

That last talking post-game session is so very important for the campaign. Headcanons are good and all, but they are nothing compared to a good post-game discussion. 

It should have been it's own epilogue setpiece. At least prologue-sized in scope. One last walk around. You can just limit it to Wyrm Rock castle if necessary. Not just companions, but all of your allies gathered there too. Or some cool space shit for Illithid ending😁

Right now it feels like the group fell apart at the very end. And this is an unironic tragedy. Realistic? Sure(most groups fall apart long before campaign ends). But it does not have to be! 

They showed with Act 1 and Act 2 endings and some other stories (Astarion, Shadowheart, House of Hope, Bhaal stuff for Dark Urge) that they both KNOW how to give closure and CAN do it. So why not apply the same for actual game ending? 

Probably they just ran out of time.

One tiny bit of me hopes that they removed it because they plan to restore cut content, and it will be easier to make one proper ending that accounts for all those variables instead of making ending with current available choices and then tweak it for added stuff.

But realist in me says it's just a time issue, and not much more.

Onto smaller stuff that does not call for its own post, so I'll stick it there.

Hag Coven sounds very interesting. I get why it was cut - it has nothing to do with the main plot, so if they had to cut something, it makes sense to cut this subplot. Still, hags are awesome enemies, and if Larian decides to make DLC with extra adventures (I'll make a separate post about my DLC wishlist) - it will be a welcome addition.

Raven Queen plot line. Same as hags. Shame it was cut tho. I am very thirsty for He Who Was. But it explains why his quest felt so random and weird. Just your basic fetch quest. Which is generally not a thing in BG3. Now it makes sense. It was a beginning of its own subplot. Again, not a necessity, but would be nice to see it restored.

Idk what that Halfling Werewolf thing even refers too. But the concept is awesome, and I'd love to see it!

Shar, Myrkil, Bhaal and Bane as cleric/paladin gods.

On one hand it would add cool 'No, _I_ am the Chosen One moments in Shadowheart, Gortash, Ketheric and Orin (in case of Durge, literally!) convos.

In case of Shadowheart it could have been heartbreaking besties-to-deadly rivals over who gets to kill Nightsong too.

But... it would be applicable to only two classes. So if they had to cut something, it made sense to cut this. Most classes would never see those options anyways, so it's not that big of a loss. But it would be a very neat addition for Definitive Edition for sure.

They already have voice lines for Durge to claim the brain in dad's name. So they could easily reuse it. Just change name/pronoun.

#baldur's gate 3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #mauser talks cut content

[jenyifer]

Dead Friend Forever Episode 11 initial reaction

I’m so sad!!!!!!!!!! 😭

So many beautiful moments. Really the episode exceeded my expectations. I’m glad we got so much Tee. I’ve been rooting for him since the beginning. Poor baby. In an unwinnble situation he kept hope unlike New who gave in to the darkness.

Although don’t get me wrong I mostly still agree with Tan New more of the boys need to pay for what they did. Tee has paid he’s paid again and again. No wonder last ep White said to Tee “you told me you wanted to be friends with them remember?” Gahhh right in the heart Tee wanted to have a normal friendships.

Let’s get into it. How do we only have 1 ep left?!

Photo review time

The fact Tee did EVERYTHING in his power to save Non speaks volumes. He didn’t expect things to spiral out of control. He wanted to care for his dad who obviously needs help but Tee was working like crazy he doesn’t feel bad for non he feels guilt and works to make things better it’s better than any apology

Okay but are we sure he’s not White’s long lost brother or twin? Also I love him. What an icon

What’s cruel is Tee and his dad didn’t ask for this. There is nothing his dad could have done to protect Tee when your mind goes it’s hard to admit it and then it snowballs into no longer being able to care for others and then delves into not being able to care for yourself it’s heart breaking it’s like boiling a frog in soup and I hope it is a fate that doesn’t await me. Tee had no where to go but his uncle. Tee has very little choices in his life. I can believe he’s a bully when everything in his life is out of his hands.

The actor for Tee in the final Non scenes and his speech after this letter. It got me crying. Man this actor needs an award too. It really hit me to my core Tee doesn’t emote much but you could feel pain resignation injustice in his every move.

I’m DEVASTATED that Non is actually dead. I was hoping Non really did find a way to escape when Tee gave Non the money. Non had every right to not trust Tee and to be a little crazy. He still didn’t have access to medicine. I wonder if Tan/New suffers from the same mental illness. Ugh Non…. Believing no one would miss him at the end. Really hurts my soul.

I feel like if Non got to an afterlife and saw how tough Tee was working to atone for what he did I think Non sent White as a miracle for Tees life. If so it’d be beautiful if White was able to save as many as possible.

White and Tee are precious it heals what was broken from only friends with Boston and Nick.

No one deserves to be alone. Everyone needs the chance to change. To be happy.

Wow their kisses are so fucking amazing. I adore them I could have watched 12 eps of their relationship. I really don’t want Tee or White to die

Okay get em Tan/New but I still want Tee and White to live. I don’t blame him for acting this way he’s still my baby and he has every right to hate Phee being weak. Yes I know you shouldn’t kill people however if someone RUINS my family. DESTORYS them? I don’t care if my mom came down from heaven and told me to spare the person who choked my sister with their bare hands. I’d shoot them.

#dff the series #dff #dff spoilers #dff meta #dead friend forever #dead friend forever the series #dff ep 11 #dff episode 11 #dead friend forever episode 11 #Jenny’s watching

[beaconfeels]

Sometimes I wonder if people realize how snobby they sound when they act like people not being able to read into the deeper meanings of shows or books are just being deliberately obtuse or unintelligent. First of all, it’s ableist. Some people literally do not have the IQ to process things that way, and they shouldn’t feel ashamed of whatever way they can and do enjoy their fandom.

Second of all, it feels to me like you’re assuming everyone has had access to the kind of education where you’re taught those things. (And that you had the ability to learn in a traditional class environment) Personally, I had one year of public school, and the rest of my schooling was extremely lackluster. I never had a single class in my life where we read through a book and were taught how to look for symbolism, tropes, or any of the other things that people seem to know about when they’re talking about media. I didn’t go to college either, another thing that’s not terribly uncommon, so the only way I would have learned all that stuff was by studying it by myself.

Now, you might say, ‘That’s how I learned it!” You might be super smart and super motivated because you’re interested in it, but again, it’s kind of ignoring the different ways that people’s brains work, and also their life circumstances. I’m chronically ill, neurodivergent, and have a heck load of trauma. I’ve spent most of my adult life just trying to freaking survive, and when I’m in survival mode, I shut down. I end up only doing the things that are easy for my brain to process in my downtime because I’m so damn tired just trying to get through the basics of adult life.

I’m FINALLY at a place in my life where I have enough safety and time to be able to focus and learn things on my own, and I still end up often using the brain space that I do have to learn things that actually give me a shot at creating a better life for myself, ya know? Skills that I might be able to turn into a way to make money. This is not to say you might not have the exact same circumstances as me and you’ve self-educated yourself about a lot of shit. Good for you. That’s the way your brain lets you do things, and you should feel lucky.

Anyway, just know that viewing intelligence through a single type of lens has its roots in classism, racism, and ableism, and maybe just think about that the next time you’re writing a post about this kind of stuff. Honestly, I LOVE the people who actually talk about the symbolism and other things they catch in TV shows and books etc, because that’s been a really nice way for me to gain a little education about it in a way that’s fun and interesting. There’s a real difference between someone doing a post where they talk through something they loved in their fave show or book and point out all the parallels and color choices and what that means, versus someone basically saying, “I mean DUH. You’d think they haven’t even watched the show. OBVIOUSLY the red balloon represents his hopes for the future.” That kind of energy is not useful.

#fandom life #Sophie has thoughts #that she will probably delete later :P #tldr some of us are uneducated and tired okay? #you don’t have some moral high ground because you know shit

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas23 Day 1: lead & follow (Jessamine/Mary-Alice)

Another year, another round of Ficmas!

We'll open this year with a fic that I started for Pride and just couldn't get right - I think the end section will be reworked before it's archived on AO3.

So this was kind of a thought experiment about how STL would have gone for Jessamine and Alice; how things went differently, how different choices were made, and what that looked like.

I hope you enjoy it!

lead & follow.

Open my chest and colour my spine I'm giving you all Swallow my breath And take what is mine

(Of Monsters & Men)

---

Like everything that has ever happened to one Miss Jessamine Whitlock, formerly of San Antonio, everything changes because of one small detail. One details that is so easily dismissed and forgotten, never something that seems like it’s meant to become something bigger or even slightly important in the long run.

And that's how it begins.

Jessamine finds her in a swampy clearing somewhere in Mississippi - it’s not important where, and Jessamine doesn’t care. She’s just standing there, staring off into space; with bright red eyes, and the kind of glow to her that only newborns have, half-covered in mud. 

Experience has told her that no good comes from a solitary newborn - and there are no others around them, not that Jessamine can sense. 

So she goes to take the newborn’s head off. 

At least, that’s the plan. 

Instead, the first blow has the newborn cowering, not even trying to fight back; her terrified face bisected by a crack, her thin hands holding it together as it heals. When Jessamine gets closer, the newborn lets out a whine and shuffles backward to nestle at the foot of a tree, surrounded by bushes and undergrowth. 

(Her eyes are so big, it almost looks like they take up her entire face. The kind of eyes someone could drown in. Her black hair, uneven and wild, is pasted down to her face with a mixture of dried blood - her own - and mud. She is astoundingly pretty - if uncomfortably thin - which is probably the reason she was turned… if her change was intentional.)

She doesn’t look like much more than a child. But Jessamine’s known Immortal Children, and their aggression, their lure, is something that this girl doesn’t have. She’s small, but she’s above the legal age. 

So she decides to take one Mary-Alice (the name scrawled on the back of her garment, the surname blurred out and indecipherable) back to Maria. 

If she’s a spy, she’ll be tortured for information and destroyed. If she’s a foundling, she’s another body on the battlefield. Either way, Maria gets something out of Jessamine bringing her back to Monterrey. 

So she does. 

—

Forks is turning out to be memorable. 

That sounds stupid. Vampire memories are good enough that, by definition, all places are memorable. Except after decades of moving every five years from one large, remote house in a small town to another large, remote house in a small town, it all blurs together. Carlisle works in a hospital, Esme does charity work, and the rest of them go to school - dented lockers, the old-soup smell of the cafeteria, and computers that only work fifty percent of the time. 

The more things change, the more they stay the same. It was like statis, in some ways, because it was always the same. Hell, in some of those underfunded shithole public schools, they were even the same textbooks a decade apart. 

That’s why they were allowed to stay in Alaska for the full decade - after a round in Juneau playing the part. They had to earn their retreat into the lodge outside of the Denali National Park. 

(Well, the screaming argument that she had with Rosalie might have indicated to Carlisle and Esme that they were all burnt out with keeping up the act. It hadn’t been one of her finest moments, but Rosalie had insisted on using her actual full name at their last three schools and Jess had put her foot down in Juneau. They were inviting trouble with the internet becoming more and more accessible. She’d won that argument, which was rare enough that it was notable, and they’d attended school as Rose and Jess Platt. It was more than fifteen years ago, and she wasn’t entirely certain Rosalie had forgiven her yet.)

It had been nice. Nice to exist as who she was, and not have to remember all the details that went along with their cover story; not to have to second guess everything she said or did or wore because she was supposed to be an ordinary teenage girl. Nice to be able to venture into the woods for days on end and not have to be anywhere. Nice to run bare foot through the snow, because that was a feeling she still savoured as a novelty more than sixty years later. 

And then Carlisle had taken them to Forks, and pushed them back onto centre stage; the maladjusted Cullens (and Hales, again. She is fighting a losing battle over that.)  

(She’s getting too old for this.)

She wasn’t expecting Forks to be anything. Just another black pin on the map in her study of all the places they’ve found themselves in - there’s a red pin in Monterrey for obvious reasons. There’s a silver one in Nebraska, the place where the Cullens found her (not her most dignified moment, honestly.) 

There’s a silver one in Mississippi too. One that she worries at, takes out and puts back in, because she hates that she’s so damn obvious. That she’s giving away her secrets - especially the secrets that she refuses to confess to herself half of the time. But she’s on a new kick, a new lifestyle of being honest with herself and with others. That rewriting history does no one any favours, so it’s better just to be straight forward and tell the truth. 

(Eventually she’ll feel at home as this new person, this honest girl who owns her failures and her weaknesses. It’s been sixty years, it’ll stick soon.)

She digresses.

Forks… well, Edward and Bella certainly made it distinctive.

She wasn’t going to lie and say that it didn’t feel good to fight again, to destroy. That James went down realising he made a terrible mistake and picked the wrong fight on the wrong day, and that she was very thorough, and took great pride in her work. That Jessamine Whitlock had a reputation to uphold. She likens it to stretching out muscles that have been in recline too long - a runner getting back into training after sitting out of the race. 

(She might have been too enthusiastic, because Emmett was kind of slack jawed when James was finally ash. But it’s good to know that she’s still got it - that sixty years of domesticity hasn’t dulled her too much.)

Jess has zero idea of where Edward and Bella are going to end up - probably with Bella dead, if she’s honest. (If Esme hadn’t intervened, she and Rose would have already dealt with Bella and probably Chief Swan at the same time. But she just cannot go against Esme’s politely-worded requests. No one is murdering the Chief of Police and his daughter. She just made it sound so reasonable.) With all the moving parts, with Edward and his hang-ups, and Bella’s impressive ability to attract trouble, she cannot see this having a happy ending. And really, however this pans out, Bella is going to lose her life. 

But she keeps her thoughts to herself.

Victoria is still in the wind and, despite Carlisle’s faith in the goodness of people, Jess knows that without sufficient motivation - like having a debilitating gift that cripples you emotionally to the point of physical pain if you hunt humans - there is no meaningful chance that Laurent will remain a vegetarian with the Denali clan. They’re living on borrowed time. 

But for all her bitching, at least Bella and Edward had made this more interesting than another mediocre high school eduction. 

Speaking of which, her current class is coming to an end, and she has the overwhelming urge to stretch. The others don’t get that urge like she does, and Carlisle blames it on their human lifestyle. That Jess had the opportunity to run and fight and move on a scale none of the Cullens have really ever had. The others find it odd that she paces, stretches, twists and turns when they are content simply sitting or standing. 

Some days she just runs loops up to Canada and back down to Forks, to burn the energy and the itch. Edward might join her for a couple, Emmett too, but no one likes to run as much as she does. No one else feels like instinct to move like Jess. 

The bell rings, and she’s quick to sweep her books into her bag. Maybe she’ll ask Rose to do her homework for her, and go running tonight. Go running and hunting, and tell Carlisle she’s keeping an eye for Victoria so no one looks at her like she’s going feral again. Maybe even wear shoes and one of those fancy outdoor jackets that Esme buys her, to help her look the part even when she’s running faster than the human eye in the depths of the wilderness, with blood on her face. 

“Jess?”

She jerks to the side - not surprised, really, but having anyone address her is unexpected. She and Rose are not known for their warm personalities.

But Angela Weber is one of the few classmates that she tolerates. Mostly because Angela is polite, respects boundaries, and doesn’t ask stupid questions. Jessica Stanley, who is hovering nearby, is lower on Jess’s list of ‘people she should tolerate’, mostly because of the sheer amount of questions Jessica likes to ask.

Which is possibly why she’s keeping her distance. 

(She blames Rose, honestly, that they’re approaching her at all - she’d been practicing braids in Jess’s hair that morning and she’d left them in for school. Apparently it made her look friendly enough to talk to.)

“Hmm?”

“It’s about Rosalie’s car…”

Angela has her full attention immediately; nothing causes a Rosalie Hale meltdown quite like the great-unwashed interfering with one of her cars. There had been an incident about a month after they started at Forks High, and whilst Rosalie had been contained quickly, it wasn’t forgotten by the student body. 

“There's some junkie girl sitting on it,” Jessica announces and Angela winces at her friend’s bluntness.  

Jess groans, and shoulders her bag, pushing past both girls without acknowledging them. This was going to be bad, and she was sure Angela would overlook her rudeness if it meant beating Rosalie out to the parking lot and removing whatever poor soul had a death wish by touching the BMW. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

—

Mary-Alice is an enigma. 

Maria is equal parts exasperated and fascinated by her.

She claims to have no memories before waking up in the woods. 

She doesn’t know her maker. She doesn’t remember being human or how old she is or where she is from. The only reason she knows her name is because it was written on her garment and Jessamine gave it back to her. She tells them all of that the second they get back to camp. 

Maria doesn’t believe her. Not that it matters, because whatever her answer was, Maria has a very specific process for foundlings brought to her in Monterrey. 

Maybe Jessamine should have warned the poor girl. 

She’s mostly confused by the torture; it’s light, for Maria - the cracking and removal of a limb or two has the girl telling them everything. She sobs enough that venom gathers under her eyes and clings to her eyelashes. When Maria finally decides to release her, Mary-Alice doesn’t lash out like others before her have; instead, she goes over to the corner of the room to reattach her arm, to realign the joints in her legs, and shakes like a leaf when Jessamine approaches her, flinching away. 

But Jessamine has to put her away, and nothing stops her from hauling Mary-Alice to her feet, her hand clamped around her good arm so she doesn’t try to run. She wouldn’t be the first.  

The rolling horror of her emotions twists Jessamine’s stomach and makes her tighten her grip out of resentment as she escorts her to the barn with the rest of the newborns. She almost pities the little creature, still healing - her ankle is still knitting back to her leg, her limp like a little skip - and being thrown into the barn. But what goes on in there after dawn is a law unto itself, and something that Maria has never gotten involved in. 

(Mary-Alice isn’t the first to be fed into the maw of the south, and she won’t be the last.)

Which is why it’s so fucking annoying that Jessamine can’t get the memory of her wide, venom-streaked eyes out of her head, even once she and Maria have retired to the house. 

The next evening, Mary-Alice is quiet. She feels distant - that will become her trademark. That her emotions are as slight and ephemeral as her build. That for a long time, Jessamine will have to touch her to get a decent read on what she feels. 

And after a while, even that yields nothing. 

It doesn’t matter, though, because she settles well into training. Maria had named her as canon fodder - someone they’d lose early on, since she was evidently prone to hysterics and seemed too confused and innocent to really grasp what she was now a part of. 

But… she’s fast and she’s a quick learner; a talented fighter. She catches on faster than Jessamine’s seen before; absolutely ruthless and precise. Her size is an asset, and does not reflect her strength. It’s been a while since Jessamine has been surprised by a newborn in training; she and Maria can measure up a soldier well enough by now. Mary-Alice, however, surprises both of them. 

She’ll do nicely. 

And she lives. One battle, two, six, twelve. She comes back from them all with insignificant injuries and nothing to report. Another success story for the Lady of Monterrey, and her unbeatable army. 

Jessamine just tries to not to notice how haunted those big eyes have become, so quickly. How quiet and small she makes herself. 

It's just how things are in the south. 

She’d best get used to it. 

—

With the imminent arrival of another patented Rosalie meltdown, Jess is cursing a lot of things - of course her class today is in H block at the back of the school. Of course today is the day the goddamn middle schoolers are using the library, and one of the sports teams is packing for a game. There are too many people crammed into the hallway, and Rosalie’s temper is the only thing distracting Jess from how good everyone smells. 

She manages to intercept Edward, helping Bella navigate the corridors in that unwieldy cast, to warn him of their predicament and to hopefully distract Rose long enough for Jess to intervene and banish whomever thought it was a good idea to touch Rosalie Hale’s car. Edward looks irritated - mostly at Rose, but that’s just an ordinary Wednesday - and agrees that this needs to be handled fast and efficiently. Leave Emmett to be the one to manage Rose. 

But of course, as they push through the crowds, her bag - the beat-up army-surplus messenger bag that Emmett gave her back in the 90s as a punchline to a joke, dotted with anti-war patches Emmett hunts for on eBay - decides to break, the buckle snapping up to hit her in the head and sending her shit tumbling to the floor. 

She’s going to murder someone, but at least Carlisle will be pleased it wasn’t because she was thirsty, but because she was continually inconvenienced. Waving Edward and Bella on, she stops to scoop up her detritus - pens and pencils, her notes, her phone, all scattered along the floor - as other students ignore her and keep moving forward. 

“You think they’ll call the cops?”

“She’s definitely a junkie. Mom says there’s a real problem out at the Res, and that Swan won’t do anything about it because he’s all buddy-buddy with a bunch of them.”

“She’s pretty obviously white, Ashley.”

“They’re probably selling shit to her.”

“Don’t be such a fucking racist."

“Banner went out to talk to her, and she says she’s waiting for someone. Said she knows the Cullens.”

“She looks like a middle-schooler.”

The gossip around her, as she shovels papers and books and pens back into her bag - fixable, but irritating - seems to prick at her, and she sets it aside long enough to tie the broken strap together. She’s probably lost her chance at beating Ro…

Said she knows the Cullens.

She looks like a middle-schooler.

That makes her pause. It shouldn’t, but it does. 

Immortal Children don’t live very long, with the Laws. And most people won’t change anyone who isn’t definitively and absolutely old enough. No one wants to be the one that creates an ambiguously young newborn in case it all goes to shit. 

Maybe there’s always been a little shard of hope tucked behind her heart.

There’s only been one girl she’s known, of all the newborns and nomads and friends of Carlisle’s over the years, that could pass for being a ‘junkie middle-schooler.’ 

One girl who made her a promise a long time ago. 

(It might have been sixty years, but she never stopped having faith in those parting words.)

—

Time passes, newborns fall in battle, or they live to see the year pass by until summer comes and the pyres are built. And slowly but steadily, Jessamine feeds each piece and part of those newborns into the fire whether they are body parts left behind on the battlefield, or Jessamine takes off their heads herself. 

Mary-Alice isn’t amongst that number. No, she survives each battle, and is lucky and fast enough that Maria shrugs and leaves it up to Jessamine whether Mary-Alice gets to live or die. 

So, she lives. 

Jessamine tells herself that it’s because no one expects much from her on the battlefield, so she’s the perfect cuckoo in the nest. The skinny kid with the big eyes that can take down men three times her size before they even realise they’ve lost. 

She convinces herself of that for a long time. That her interest in Mary-Alice is merely academic, strategic, and nothing more. Even when she’s unceremoniously ejected from Maria’s bed - a long time coming, and not something she’s that unhappy about - she’s still convinced Mary-Alice is just another warm body for the army. One of the few that gets to live past their newborn year - like Dante and Lily and Javier. She has a purpose. Jessamine Whitlock is not one for sentiment, and not one for indulgences. If Mary-Alice wasn’t useful, she wouldn’t have been given a stay of execution. 

And for a while, that’s how they stay. A soldier and a major. Training and hunting and recruiting. Mary-Alice proves useful at map-drawing and recruiting, even if she is entirely illiterate and far too sympathetic to potential recruits. Her answers to Jessamine are always short, deeply respectful, and unemotional - she’s never told a lie, even fumbled the details, in the entire time that Jessamine’s known her. 

Maria likes that Mary-Alice has no human memories; thinks it makes her more efficient and effective. She wonders about ways to wipe memories of the newborns as a blanket policy; sever them from their humanity entirely. Peter and Jessamine manage to talk her out of that; there’s already a roughly thirty percent chance of a newborn changing wrong and having to be destroyed on the spot. It’s just making their jobs harder, to try and find that sweet spot between utility and amnesia every single time. It leaves them weak, without a full army, if it all goes wrong at the same time. 

(And maybe Jessamine sees the confused, sad look on Mary-Alice's face when she’s listening to a conversation the most recent batch of newborns have - about weddings and families and birthdays and all those little things that make up humans and newborns often want to hold tight to, at least for a little while. But all it tells her is that Mary-Alice might be useful the way she is, but she’s hardly content with her lot in life.) 

It takes over a decade for Jessamine to admit to herself that Mary-Alice isn’t there just for utility - that she wants more. Those big red eyes that feel like they see too much; the odd little spells she has where she stares off into space. The very few but almost charmingly unexpected questions. The shape and movement of her thin body underneath oversized clothes…

She wants more. She wants Mary-Alice. 

(It’s been a while. There were a couple of newborns after Maria, easily caught and easily forgotten - Peter’s fine with being the one that ends Jessamine’s lovers during the summer, because it’s too much for her to deal with and they learned that the hard way. She kept to herself after that, bored and irritable with the last few batches.) 

The realisation is one that feels like she’s always known it but also like she’s been struck by lightning. It’s no easier to admit to herself in the privacy of her own mind than it is to put the words into the world, but it’s always been there, simmering: that Mary-Alice was something, a moment of potential that she just had to be ready to take. 

Jessamine has never been patient when she makes a decision; and it’s not like Mary-Alice is going anywhere. 

It’s as simple as cornering her in the house before dawn; of a hand on Mary-Alice’s cheek and a kiss that is taken more than offered. An understanding that is exchanged in a glance. 

The room Maria gave Jessamine is narrow, with an ancient, rotting day bed and a hay mattress. The mattress is sunken in the middle, and she snapped the legs off the bed years ago, to make it more useable. There’s a desk that barely stands, piled with her books and ragged maps and a few bits of discarded clothing. 

It’s not a room she’s spent a lot of time in - a space used for killing time more than as a sanctuary. 

Mary-Alice pauses to consider the room for a second; that’s all Jessamine gives her before there is another kiss, deep and lingering, and she can taste Mary-Alice’s venom - a lemon-sugar tang that makes her groan. 

(Jessamine makes it clear what she wants from Mary-Alice that first night. Both of them stripped and on that daybed; Mary-Alice has less scars, just a dusting.  She’s still young. She’s just as tiny as Jessamine envisaged, her ribs leaving shadows on her skin, the soft swell of her breasts, the jutting bones of her hips… Jessamine doesn’t want to admit that she’s a daydream, a doll wrought just for her, because that makes this a complete disaster. She’s already ragged with emotion in this place, the last thing she needs to do is add in her own goddamn feelings.)

Mary-Alice has always been a good learner, a quick one, and Jessamine would be pleased with how willing she is if life didn’t feel like she was being hollowed out and left to rot most days. But there is some satisfaction in what they have, in being able to sink into each other. She knows every scar and freckle on Mary-Alice’s body, knows exactly how she moves, how she’s put together. It’s a feast and some days she wonders if those days lying sprawled naked on the hay mattress  are what truly sustains her. 

(Maria catches them together one afternoon and lets out a bark of laughter. “You really are trying to destroy that girl,” she informs Jessamine, clearly entertained by what she’s found. That comment, what Maria saw in them that day, eats away at Jessamine slowly but surely. She does nothing with it, but it just sits in her mind to rot and it makes her worse. It makes everything worse.)

But somehow, she keeps her. Mary-Alice doesn’t leave, Jessamine doesn’t send her away, and they both ignore the rot. 

And maybe Jessamine feels safe enough to talk to Mary-Alice - to Alice. Really talk, like she hasn’t been able to in… a very long time. She whispers little things in her ear, asks her what she thinks, tells her things she’d rather never speak aloud. 

Alice is a good listener, but not much of a talker. She makes reassuring sounds, plays with Jessamine’s hair, and never really has a definitive opinion about complicated things. She doesn’t confide in Jessamine the same; there are no whispered confessions, no hushed fears or worries. It hurts because Jessamine is cracking herself wide open for Alice, and getting nothing in return. 

(It hurts because Jessamine knows she doesn’t deserve any part of what she expects, and Alice is right not to tell her a damn thing.)

“It must be nice not to have secrets,” Jessamine says pointedly to her one day, lying together; fucking came before dealing with the bites and wounds from the last battle and Alice’s mouth is on the bite around her bony arm, licking away foreign venom so it will knit again. She lets out a garbled noise when Jessamine says that. 

“What makes you think that?” Alice asks, looking curious. Blank, curious, pissed off - those were the sole emotions Alice was capable of demonstrating. Her physical emotions were no more telling, and sometimes Jessamine wondered if that’s just who Miss Mary-Alice was, or if that’s what the South had done to her. 

“You never have anything to tell me,” Jessamine replied, almost sulkily. Alice shrugs and lies straight, looking at her frankly. 

“I’ve never known anything but you and life here,” Alice says in that even, flat voice she always uses. “That’s all I have; any hopes or dreams or beliefs or regrets I ever had, I left behind when I was changed. I think you really need those things to have secrets, Jessamine.”

She’s not wrong, but Jessamine is admittedly jealous that Alice won’t entrust some kind of something to her; to tuck a secret into Jessamine’s greedy palms. But it also must be nice not to feel like you’re on the edge of a knife, about to fall into the abyss. Most of the time, Jessamine feels like she’s about to implode from everything. That she’s stretched taunt, and something has to give. 

And Alice is just there, steady as she goes. 

It must be nice. 

(It’ll be much, much later - too late - when Jessamine finally realises how grotesque and nightmarish Alice’s life was. Is. How she had handed Jessamine what she truly wanted, that intimacy of her truth - completely hopeless, with no expectation or knowledge of anything better than what she had. And Jessamine had missed it entirely.) 

—

“I don’t care who the fuck she is, I’m going to kill her,” Rosalie announces through clenched teeth, sending a few horrified freshman skittering out of her way like rabbits as Jess finally finds her family. She’d given up beating Rosalie to the car park thanks to the fucking ridiculous layout of this stupid school and opted to just try and diffuse the situation at the source. 

“How did she find us here?” Emmett wonders, looking downright confused. “Why not go straight to the house? Esme would love having someone show up to visit.”

“Scent, probably. No other way to track us down if they were coming from the South-East,” Edward says under his breath, so no passersby can hear anything odd. “Do we have any idea of who it is?”

“Jessica was saying she had dark hair,” Bella says meekly, withering under Rose’s scornful glance. 

“That doesn’t narrow it much,” Emmett has his arm over Rosalie’s shoulders, probably holding her in place. Even with Jess’s gift, Rose’s rage is hot and wild, and Emmett is probably the only thing keeping her in check. “Mary, maybe?”

“Mary hasn’t left California in forty years; and she’s taller than Jess,” Edward corrects. “Everyone’s focusing on how small this girl is.”

“At least it isn’t Jane,” Emmett shrugs. “We’d have known about that pretty fast.”

It’s been decades since they met with the Volturi as ‘honored guests’ of Aro, and none of them held that visit fondly. Esme had quietly admitted later that the visit to Volterra had taken the shine off Italy entirely. 

Jess nods along, trying to focus on muting Rosalie’s anger, and not to think too much. She feels oddly sick at the possibilities in front of them. She feels stupid for putting the pieces together in her mind in a very-certain way. (She promised.) She’s… hopeful, but sick with the possibility she’s wrong and she’s got her hopes up for nothing. 

“It’s not Maria, Jess.” Edward sounds like he’s trying very hard to be reassuring. “You know Maria, and she wouldn’t be this brazen.”

It’s both reassuring and embarrassing that Edward would jump to that conclusion: that Maria’s sudden appearance would be at the front of Jess’s mind when it didn’t even occur to her that Maria might be the sitting pretty on Rose’s BMW (fuck, she really does have a type). 

(Also, Maria would not be sitting on the BMW looking homeless. The last time Charlotte and Peter ran into Maria, she was apparently wearing Versace and driving a Lexus - a stolen Lexus, without any kind of license, but the woman had very particular taste.)

Jess can’t think of other possibilities at that moment. She doesn’t want Edward to know because… whatever the outcome is, she doesn’t want Edward to look at her in sympathy. She might be trying out this whole ‘honest and transparent’ lifestyle but there are some things that are too raw, too much of a condemnation of her, to think about. 

So she just nods, hands tight on the strap of her bag and wondering what she’s really hoping for. 

(It’s been more than sixty fucking years. Hope is a dead thing that’s rotted back into the ground, brittle bones ground to dust. Some promises are made to be broken, and it’s about time that she made peace with that.)

—

In the end, she goes with Peter.

Or rather, Peter shows up and grabs her arm and tells her to fucking run. 

(The long story is that for a very long time, she hates Peter. More than she hates Charlotte, even. She hates him for leaving her to the never-ending abyss of the wars, for taking away the steadiest and kindest thing she ever had. She doesn’t want to kill him so much as she wants to beat the shit out of him and scream at him for letting her down. She tells Alice that once, her voice shaking, and Alice had stroked her cheek. “I think Peter will surprise you. And I think when he does, you should take what he offers.” Jessamine scoffed because she doesn’t expect to see him again - he’s already probably dead, Charlotte too.)

So she turns and runs. She doesn’t even look behind her, doesn’t think about the stuff she’s leaving behind, doesn’t think about how he’s still alive, where Charlotte is, or even where they are going. 

They just run. It’s a blur of dust and haze and terror trapped inside her that they will be caught and she’ll get the one person she’s always trusted, always relied upon to fix things, killed. 

At the Arizona border, they slow down and maybe Jess grabs Peter and hugs him so tight she probably cracks something and she sobs so hard she’s wheezing. Her great escape from the Southern Wars and from Maria of Monterrey ends not with a celebration, of laughter and joy, but with both of them sitting in the dirt, Jess shaking and crying, with Peter trying to soothe her, his arms tight around her. 

That’s how Charlotte finds them, and later Jess is embarrassed and humbled by Charlotte’s compassion, her acceptance, and her keen relief that they both made it out in one piece. Charlotte’s a better person than Jessamine, but they already knew that. 

For a while, she feels like spun glass - impossibly fragile and distant from all that goes on around her. Time lacks meaning, and she’s not sure how many days pass after Arizona. Peter and Charlotte are gentle with her, and Charlotte is quick to remind her that it takes all of them a while to realize that there is something outside of that ugly bubble of the Wars; that what they lived through is just the smallest view of the world. 

Jess just needs to take a breathe and let time work its magic, Charlotte promises. It will be okay.

Except, it’s six states and two months later that she feels enough like herself again that her brain starts working, that she starts having thoughts beyond the moment, and she immediately thinks of Alice. 

Alice. Alice whom she left behind and never thought of. Alice who probably waited for Jess in her room - their room - in the mansion, and Jess never showed up.  

Alice, who is still in Monterrey with Maria alone to pay the price of Jess’s abandonment. That’s the realization that makes her vomit up the meal she ate only a few hours earlier. Alice alone, paying for Jessamine’s sins and selfishness. 

(Maria was right. She really did want to destroy Alice.)

Peter is kind but unflinching when he deciphers her distress. If Jessamine was that close to Alice, Maria probably tortured the shit out of her for answers, and then destroyed her. If going back was a possibility - and it really, really isn’t - she wouldn’t be alive to save. 

It says a lot about the place they’ve all come from that the idea Alice is dead and gone is immensely reassuring, that Alice is somewhere soft and quiet now, where nothing can get her. 

Except… 

The last night, the last battle, lingers in her head and she remembers giving Alice and the others their orders and Alice meeting her gaze and replying, “I’ll follow where you lead.” 

Those words are probably meaningless; Alice always followed orders and acknowledged them to set a standard for the newborns. Her confidence and certainty in Jessamine and Maria’s leadership set a tone that made the newborns fall into line with relative ease. 

Except they aren’t; they’re ominous and heavy and loaded… maybe even something to hold tight to, something to tuck away and hope for. 

Alice is fast and she’s a quick learner; a talented fighter. She catches on faster than Jessamine’s seen before; absolutely ruthless and precise. Her size is an asset and does not reflect her strength. She’s been a reliable fighter for Maria for decades, and she’s never told a lie. Without Jessamine, Maria’s ability to wield a newborn army is crippled; it would be foolish to destroy one of her longest-serving soldiers when she’s already lost Jessamine. And Maria is no fool… 

…Maybe.

(A little bit of hope is a powerful thing.)

—

The journey to the parking lot feels like the path to execution, and Jess is intimately aware of the fact that either way, her family is probably going to know more than she wants them to. 

There are students clustered around the parking lot, talking and whispering, and enjoying the Cullens being a spectacle again. Perhaps even hoping for a Rosalie smack-down because in small towns, the good gossip is treasured. 

(Emmett might look like he’s casually walking with Rosalie, but she’s clamped at his side, and he’s whispering sweet nothings in her ear to diffuse the situation. Cars can be fixed and some people are stupid, babe. Don’t let anyone know they got to you.) 

And then they are there, staring at Rose’s pristine car, and it takes Jess a moment to realise what she’s seeing.  

She sits on the top of the SUV cross-legged, and she probably looks bored to everyone else. Just waiting for the Cullens to show up. 

(Hope is a wild thing in her chest, somehow a million times more alive and wild now that Jess is faced with what she was secretly holding on for, that tiny flickering flame that she’s protected but never acknowledged since the day Peter declared her most likely dead finally burning free.)  

To Jess, she looks exhausted. Wrung out and brittle, like she’s waiting for her execution. 

But she’s here. And she’s alive.

Her hair is pulled into two very small pigtails on the top of her head with plastic clips, and somewhere she’s gotten ahold of glitter eyeshadow that is smeared liberally over both her eyelids. She’s wearing a frankly rancid cat-ear hoodie that looks like it was once a child’s, and some ragged capris, with a beat-up messenger bag beside her. Both of her skinny wrists are layered with beaded bracelets that definitely once belonged to a child. 

The effect is jarring - childish and garish - but it is also somehow the most Alice. That this is exactly who she is - worn out, beaten-up, but still very  much herself. It feels like the first time Jess has actually seen her for herself and it’s exactly how Jess always assumed Alice looked. 

“Jess?” Edward’s looking at her with a confused expression, but she’s not listening anymore. It’s like sixty years of trauma all knotted and tangled up inside of her has come loose and she can finally relax. That she’s finally putting everything together and maybe it will be okay now. 

She strides over to the car, past the whispering students wondering how the Cullens know this weird barefoot girl and what Jess Hale is going to do, and right up to the SUV. For a second, they stare at each other before Jess drops her bag to the ground and climbs up onto the roof, their gazes never breaking. 

Alice stares back at her, her expression not changing at all; her eyes just tracking her movement. There’s nothing there, no emotion or reaction. Just the flat gaze of someone used to being hunted. 

And Jess kisses her. 

She clasps Alice’s face in her hands and kisses her for the first time in more than sixty years, an apology and a celebration that Alice is here and she’s alive and they found each other.  

Jess knows that behind her, the population of Forks High is gaping and whispering and judging - she can hear a few wolf-whistles, she’s sure that admin is already calling Carlisle and Esme to come in for a meeting with the guidance counselor, and that there will be a slur written on the front of her locker in the morning.

Small towns are all the same. 

She knows that the penny finally dropped for Emmett and Rose (though she suspects that Emmett already guessed, after that weird speech he gave her back in ’79 about how it’s cool that he likes bears and she likes bears too and that everyone can like what they like, and it doesn’t have to be a big deal. She originally assumed it was because Carlisle and Esme were paying closer attention to the local wildlife and sustainability, but apparently it was really about her being gay. Metaphor was never his strong suit.)

Rosalie will be rolling her eyes that Jess had to be so dramatic and couldn’t do this privately. 

She knows that Edward is going to have another spiritual crisis that involves too many dirges on the piano, a lot of whining at Carlisle, and somehow making the fact that Jess is gay all about his perpetual teenage-boy pain and hypocritical beliefs.

She doesn’t care that everyone is going to talk about her right up until the Cullens move away; that she’s going to be the ‘gay Cullen girl’ now, and made a whole lot of trouble for the family. She doesn’t care that Esme’s probably going to give her a sweet but awkward speech about how loved and accepted she is, and how she could have told them at any time. 

It’s honestly going to suck for a few weeks, after this stunt. 

But she doesn’t regret it. She doesn’t regret it because Alice is there and the familiar lemon-sugar tang of her venom hasn’t changed, and Alice doesn’t shove her away. And that’s halfway to everything being perfect. 

When Jess pulls back, Alice squeezes her eyes shut. “I-I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” are the first words Alice speaks to her, quiet and nervous, and Jess hates so much that Alice seems so resigned, so small and tired.  

Their good times might have been brief, a little flash in their fucked up, messy history, but that’s how Jess remembers her the clearest. That’s when Alice was the brightest. 

Not this girl who seemed as substantial as mist, halfway dead and mostly lost; this girl that Jess feels is slipping away from her faster than she can save her. This is the version of Alice that terrifies the fuck out of Jess, frankly. A blank slate of emotion, no way to determine what she’s thinking or feeling, but she can see that all joy and hope has drained from her. The walking dead, in every way that matters. 

And the idea that Alice would go anywhere else before coming to Jess, that Alice assumes Jess would not want her here makes Jess feel vaguely sick. That Alice is waiting for a reprimand, retribution, and punishment for coming to find her. 

(What happened to her? This isn’t the steady girl that she left behind. This version of her is so very shattered. Of all the ways Jess had imagined Alice after she left, this one was never even a shadow of a possibility.) 

“This is the only place you need to be,” Jess says in a low voice, reaching out to cradle Alice’s cheek. “I am so … fucking happy to see you. I missed you so much.” There are a million other questions she has - Are you okay? How did you get away? What do you need? - but she saves them, tucks them away for later when they are cloistered in a corner of the Cullens’ enormous house, and there is time for mess and raw pain and the opportunity to breathe. 

Alice bites her lip and nods, and that’s when Jess’s siblings gather around the car, obviously having walked slowly to give Jess and Alice a moment alone. Or as alone as they could be with several hundred high school students watching and commentating.  

“We need to take this back to the house,” Rose says stiffly; she’s not happy at the spectacle in front of the school, but she’s not particularly upset with Jess or Alice; Jess wonders how long Rose’s tolerance will last. “Edward’s taking Bella home.”

Somehow, reality is separate from whatever is happening right now, like she and Alice are in some kind of bubble, away from Forks and humans and all the day to day monotony. Right now, she’s just intensely aware of Alice’s body so close to hers; to that sweet lemon-sunshine scent that Alice has always had. Of the new scars on Alice’s hands and face that Jess doesn’t know; and the way she holds her right arm closer to her body. She is so intensely aware of the way Alice’s eyelashes brush her cheeks as she blinks, perfectly still and perfectly unhappy. 

None of it feels real, not even with Alice’s hand in hers. 

“Let’s go,” she manages to tell Alice, who nods. She always follows orders.  

Jess slides off the roof of the car to land next to it, reaching out a hand to help Alice down. 

“I’ve got you,” she says, brushing some of Alice’s hair off of her face. 

Alice stares at her for a moment, those big dark eyes that Jess has been in love with for longer than she can remember. 

“You always have,” Is all she says, as they climb into the car, but she doesn’t take her hand out of Jess’s. 

I’ve got you. 

—

alice.

The Cullen house smells clean and like the woods at the back of the garden. It’s full of light, it’s dry, it’s a hundred different things that Monterrey never was and could never aspire to be. Like so many things she’s known lately, it feels like something she’s allowed to see, but it’s not for her to keep. A stolen glimpse before she keeps moving. 

Her feet stick to the wooden floors, and she’s intensely aware that the lake bath she had before she got to Forks is not enough for these people. They wear shoes and jewelry, and they’ve got their clothing in the right order. They aren’t like her. 

Right now, everything feels very far away, like she’s watching herself from a great distance. 

She knows that Jessamine is waiting for her to speak, to say something small. To offer her a truth, a reason, for why she came to her. To finally share that cursed secret Jessamine demanded all those years ago, when keeping it was the only thing that kept them both alive. 

Maybe the thing she wants more than anything is to scream and scream until it all spills out of her. That she’s all knotted up inside, that aren’t so much secrets as the whole, messy truth. 

The truth is that she was raised back up with no memory of love or affection or family, just a vague promise of it that was ruined before she even began, and she’s not really sure how love is supposed to feel anymore. 

So she’s spent eighty years clinging to a half-glimpsed possibility of her and Jessamine meeting in a human establishment, of that soft and perfect promise because she had nothing else, and now she’s not who she was when Jessamine left her, and she’s never going to be who she was supposed to be, not for herself or for Jessamine or for both of them.  

She knows if she could sleep, there would be nothing but nightmares and horrors. Of all the things she’s seen and done, all the things that have been done to her. That just to survive, to save them both, she had to let herself be swallowed up, bite by bite, by the wars and the propaganda and so many lies. 

And now she doesn’t know if there’s anything left of her to salvage, let alone piece back together. 

Jessamine’s hand is in hers, and it isn’t letting go.

That’s something. 

All the words that are being spoken, they sound like they are muffled, underwater somehow. They look at her, waiting, and the words still don’t come. 

The urge to scream is fading. Jessamine’s hand is still in hers; maybe she’s holding on too tight. She feels like if she lets go, everything will disappear. 

So she holds on tighter and steadies herself and even manages to walk further into the house. Maybe she finds just enough words to explain that it’s all new and fresh and when she ran, it was like the flat of a knife against a human throat - a flash of a chance, more likely death than freedom, but somehow she made it work. 

That the idea of hunting turns her stomach, and the whole world seemed so big and bright that the only place to go was to Jessamine.

“I’ve never known anything but you and life here.”

(Later, cloistered in Jessamine’s study wearing borrowed clothing, she’ll start to weep and she won’t be able to stop. Jessamine will hold her and stroke her hair and try to reassure her of things that Alice has never confided in her. They won’t be the last tearless tears she will cry, but they will be the rawest and the truest. She still doesn’t know what love or hope or dreams feel like, but whatever this is, it’s more than she’s ever had before.) 

--

AN:

Yeah, this version of Mary-Alice somehow got the worst welcome to Monterrey; a vision of her True Love interrupted by said True Love deciding to attack her; taken back to Maria to be tortured for information for a couple of nights before being tossed into the barn with a bunch of fresh and vicious newborns who don’t recognise her as One of Them. She really opted to get all flavors of trauma packed into that very first week of life. 

Mary-Alice never told Jessamine or Maria about her gift at all. According to them, she was giftless, just skilled. That first week really fucked with her head. 

This version has Mary-Alice leave the South and head straight to Forks. There’s about a week between Mary-Alice fleeing Maria and turning up on the Cullens’ car, so there’s a lot of fresh hurt and a lot of terror at being in a brave new world where she doesn’t know the rules. So, she’s been with Maria from 1919 right up until the 2000s. 

Jess, to me, has always had a more hair-trigger temper and spontaneous personality compared to Jasper. This is because of the period-typical emotional repression that men aspired to during the Civil War; Jessamine is a little freer with expressing herself because, frankly, it would take balls to run away and pose as a boy to join the army, and even more to achieve the rank of Major. Jessamine is definitely a wildcard. 

I spit on Life and Death’s version of Jessamine being kidnapped into the wars.  

It was intentional that Jess only shortened her name after she met the Cullens, and that whilst she calls Mary-Alice ‘Alice’, Mary-Alice never calls her ‘Jess’. How this is significant is up to you. 

Yes, the relationship between Jess and Alice feels darker than in OG STL, but this is Jessamine's side of the story. She's always painted all of her choices and actions before the Cullens with the same brush - that she was toxic and monstrous.

#jessamine hale #alice cullen #jalice #gay twilight #lgbtq twilight #ficmas23 #ficmas #my fic: lead & follow #i feel like jess lasts three days and then calls peter for reinforcements because she has no idea what to do #alice just wants to curl up somewhere dark and cool and breakdown for a while #the gossip in forks is WILD after this #it took me ages to try and format this properly and it didn't work thanks so much tumblr

[thelavendercatalogue]

I hope I'm doing this right.

Do you think Lupin ever feels guilty (survivors guilt) because he survived the train incident and his father didn't. Obviously Issei wouldn't make him feel bad/guilty for it but like in his own mind?

Well that honestly Depends on a few factors coming into play. And one of the main ones is how much he remembers of the accident.

Despite Lupin’s attempts at acting like everything was OK, both Issei, but now also Jigen as this idea incorporates Lupin Zero, began to notice that the boy wasn't actually as “ok” as he let on. A while after he heals, he begins to show the classic symptoms of severe depression: he’s often times lethargic, sleeping all day, he’s losing weight to a point where it becomes noticeable, is often times irritable, but one of the major things that entails the possibility of something being severely wrong is that he loses interest or at least the pleasure in engaging in certain activities. He no longer comes up with wild hair brain schemes, he no longer builds fancy gadgets, he no longer does anything that he is known for. And while Jigen likes the slow pace in the beginning, as it goes on for longer than he anticipates he ends up bringing up his concerns with Lupin’s grandpa who also notes the same changes in his grandson that Jigen has noticed as well.

As the days go on and Lupin gets worse and worse to the point he’s practically a shell of his former self, Issei ultimately makes a choice. Something has to be done before he loses his grandson to his spiraling.

But what?

With no other options that have worked including therapy and worried deeply for the safety of his grandson’s mental and physical health, Issei brings little Lupin to meet a lady who teaches not far from where they live in Japan, who has agreed wholeheartedly to help bring the boy some peace.

This woman is named Tomoe. 

In the end. . . . we all know what happens. 

Basically Tomoe is the reason why Lupin can't remember much of his childhood. In the beginning despite the. . . iffy relationship he had with his father, Lupin did want a relationship with him. And the thing that kept him up most nights and DID cause some "survivors guilt" is that his father at the last minute DID protect his son.

And whether he did it because he actually gave a shit, or he did it simply because he was more preoccupied in saving his "legacy" no one knows, but clues point to him saving his son, and that indeed caused Lupin some survivors guilt.

However. . .it didn't last long. . .

As the months had passed since Tomoe's introduction into the Lupin Household, Lupin’s progress grew and he practically went back to how he was before the accident.

However this all turned out to be a ploy, turning out to be nothing more than a woman’s way to garner friendship and trust as a way to sneak into the older man’s house and steal his riches. Of course knowing herself to not be that excellent of a thief to steal from the Great Arséne Lupin, she exploited the younger Lupin’s talents, garnering trust, saving him from the terrors that plagued him while also delving into his mind and hypnotizing him to do her bidding.

When she fakes Lupins death and has full access to him as a "apprentice", the hypnotizing became more intense

Lupin didn't remember much of his old life, or of his childhood, or even that of the train accident because Tomoe had cemented herself as the only figure he ever had in his life, and made him believe that the "train accident" had not even existed, that he simply got caught in a house fire that she had saved him from.

He didn't have long to suffer from survivors guilt. . .

she made sure of that

#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin the 3rd #arsène lupin iii #arsène lupin #Lupin III: The Lavender Jacket Series #Lupin III PT4 “spoilers”

[longroadtome]

i saw your tags please elaborate i am normal about this

I could write an entire essay about Lyctorhood as a metaphor for dissociative disorders and all the ways we see that play out through the different pairings in the series.

We see with Gideon and Pyrrha how their attempt resulted in her compartmentalization, and how she is the only one aware of it. Gideon spends ten thousand years knowing that he is losing chunks of time, but he has to assume this is a failure on behalf of his memory. And so he hides this from everyone around him out of some sense of shame and fear. We see this in his, “I sometimes—forget,” when confronted by Harrow after the time she speaks to Pyrrha. And of course Pyrrha is the one who knows what is happening, and she is presumably able to control which of the two of them is out. She is able to hide the fact that there are two of them for ten thousand years; nobody close to them would even consider it a possibility, even though the other Lyctors take notice of the way their behaviors defer from each other. This translates very easily to Gideon as a system member unaware of the fact he’s a system, and Pyrrha as a system member who makes sure this is never discovered by him or anyone outside the system.

With Harrow and Gideon we have a scenario in which neither of them are aware of what’s going on. Harrow goes to drastic measures to ensure that she knows absolutely nothing about her cavalier, because to do so would be to destroy them both. In this way, Harrow effectively acts as a gatekeeper on her own memory, drawing a very specific outline around the memories she is not allowed to access. All of which pushes her into a deep dissociative state for nearly the entirety of the second. And as for Gideon, she is stuck unable to access the body, but still able to experience consciousness at varying levels. Harrow’s memory blockade is only one directional, so while it limits her access to knowledge, Gideon’s remains unhindered. And when Harrow is pulled into her River bubble, Gideon remarks that she could access Harrow’s “memory files” if she bothered to. This translates to a system in total disarray for safety reasons (though this is a pretty gross oversimplification).

And then we have Camilla and Palamedes in Nona. Both of them are fully aware of the other’s presence, and even though they can’t be out at the same time, they find ways to communicate around this barrier. They divide up work and tasks, and will do things solely to make life easier for the other person (for example Pal eating food he knows Cam doesn’t like). They’ve found very effective tools to adapt to living with each other: the timer, the tape recorder, the notebook, the sunglasses. Both of them treat the other as an equal, and they constantly check in with each other to make sure they’re on the same page. Even before they’re in one body, we see the way they rely on each other goes far beyond typical friendships; they seem to function as a whole collectively rather than each on their own. Ultimately, their choice to fuse and become Paul comes across as choosing integration as a form of healing and radical self-love. Neither option (fusing and staying separate) is treated as a bad thing (at least not between the two of them), but they make the decision they do because it’s “the best and truest and kindest” option for them specifically. And even though other characters might disagree, the narrative itself does not condemn them for making this choice.

Anyway uh. I too am normal about this

#ask #the locked tomb #dissociative identity disorder #camilla hect #palamedes sextus #paul #this was so many words to not even elaborate on the thing I mentioned in said tags #which is just to say that I wrote an approximate 9k fic for the holiday exchange #that’s an exploration of the moments of their lives that make Paul the most logical outcome for the two of them #and I could seriously go on about this but it’s 330am and I already lost my train of thought fifty times in writing this

[cocogum]

Casey is lost.

It’s tragic to realize that the original timeline was supposed to truly end with everyone dying on their own by sacrificing themselves to protect what’s left of their home planet.

Despite the low numbers and chances of survival from this whole experience, the brothers did not care and still kept trying to live until their last breaths.

Because of this movie, we come to find out that all the funny shenanigans and good memories that the Hamato family experienced were for it to all end in tragedy and loneliness.

It’s strange to think that THIS was in actuality the original timeline (and demise) for the turtles. Because it’s a bit hard to believe that they had created so many memories together during missions that they finally can’t complete one. And yet, it’s the most realistic ending for these four.

With so many good things happening to you, you’re bound to receive some bad ones later on. Yes, the turtles had a long life and managed to get so many adventures before it all came crashing down on them. And maybe that’s fine. Maybe that’s acceptable. They died in tragedy but a good sleep will do them good.

Not to mention that it’s quite ironic and poetic that all of those horrific tragedies happened because of Leo’s cockiness.

It all started with Leo. And it ended with Leo.

There is a reoccurring theme in the movie that keeps on supporting Leo no matter what action he presses on the team to do.

And that is the theme of time.

Throughout the movie, there was a repeated conversation about the same topic going on between Leo and Donnie that introduces the idea that no matter how a situation may look impossible, anything is possible. Donnie seems to reject that way of thinking while Leo completely adopts it. We have Donnie explaining why this belief of his brother is deeply flawed based on the reality of things and how not everything just coincidentally goes according to him.

This theme took place in two scenes.

The first was right in the beginning with the pizza box challenge and the second was when they were about to sneak into Krang’s ship.

But it looks like whatever type of danger was thrown at the family, it seems like Leo’s perseverance and unbelievable luck were right all along while Donnie’s logic and realistic views were mistaken.

Or as Leo delicately puts it:

“Donnie’s WRONG!”

Yeah, sure everything went fine after Leo put Krang back in the prison dimension but this success means that a new timeline has been added to the original one.

Saving the world before Krang could have had access to his army meant that the timeline split itself and now has a second-time branch.

This not only reinforces the fact that rise!tmnt is inconspicuously darker than it intends to be, but it also means something big for Casey.

He’ll never actually see his timeline again.

He’ll never see his masters and his mother.

And he’ll never know what happened to the rest of his comrades who were fighting before Casey entered the portal made by Mikey.

Your choices are what shape you as a person over time. Now that the events of the past have been altered, it’s highly likely that the Hamato family will not act the same way Casey once knew them as.

Just because Casey knows these people, that doesn’t mean they’ll grow up to act the same way they did in his timeline.

Even though everyone had a happy ending, Casey is, unfortunately, the only one who doesn’t have one whether he realizes it or not. His friends and family aren’t there. They were long gone in a future that has been unwillingly abandoned by him.

He would literally never see the people he cares about ever again.

Casey might not even meet himself in this timeline.

It is unclear who his father could be but the chances of Cassandra meeting him again without the apocalypse could be very thin.

The krang invasion is what brought people from everywhere together. This is where she must’ve met him and had Casey. So since the krang’s attack never happened in this timeline, Cassandra might never meet Casey’s father and have him.

Leo was so caught up in the events of the potential threat of the Krang invasion that he, along with everyone else, did not think about the consequences that it would bring.

Everything comes with a price.

Whether they won or lost the battle, there would always be good things and bad things trailing their actions.

This is one of them.

Defeating the Krang before the invasion could happen has likely made sure that Casey won’t exist in this timeline.

Sure, the Casey from the timeline where they lost against the Krang can still live in the second timeline. But he’ll be aware that he’ll never exist in this one. In a timeline where people don’t have to live in caves, don’t have to eat rats for every meal of the day, don’t have to constantly hide in fear of getting killed, don’t have to listen to horrifying stories about the invaders, and don’t have to hear the cries and wailing of the people who lost their loved ones during missions.

His existence never belonged in a happy carefree one.

“Our future isn’t written until WE write it!”

Leo’s quote may be the cruellest thing Casey has ever heard.

Can you imagine being in one of the turtles’ shoes?? Like they have to eat rats for dinner that’s like trying to eat your dad’s ancestry. And they eat that for EVERY SINGLE MEAL for the rest of their lives??? Who even decided that they should all eat rats?!!!?!

#rottmnt #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt raphael #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt michelangelo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt hamato family #hamato family #hamato #rottmnt dark ending #nickelodeon #rottmnt casey jones #rottmnt casey jr #casey jones #casey jr #rottmnt cassandra jones #cassandra jones #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt lou jitsu #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles