#Fantasy OSHA

[marlynnofmany]

I'm back from camping! What kind of fae do you think left this fairy circle?

[thelonely-journalkeeper]

it is a truth universally acknowledged that a ttrpg party in want of an excuse to get into a location will somehow reinvent osha

[glutenfreehimbo]

My new archmage seems rather lax with our fantasy OSHA adherence, however the coven of inhuman resources said that anyone who rats them out will be polymorphed into a literal rat. Which would only add to the workplace hazards except now you’re adding health code into the mix. Seems to be causing more problems than it’s solving.

[angryraptor13]

That's it. Now I wanna play a game as a Paladin of the Goddess O'Sha, resplendent in my high-vis armor, wielding a +2 Pen of Documentation and the mighty Clipboard of Doom!

I hope they have a “call-before-you-dig” hotline in Baldur’s Gate because if you even think about getting a basement your whole house just plummets straight down into whatever ancient crypt or murder cult headquarters or demonic ritual enclave happens to be in your zip code

[mediumsizedfountain]

It's been years, but I'm back on my Star Wars shit.

I think the thing I love most about Oshamir as a ship is how much of a female power fantasy it is, and the show unapologetically leans into that aspect.

Like, Qimir as an undeniably powerful and dangerous man, but he very rapidly started shifting into the more submissive person in the relationship.

He's not a tyrant or a fascist or a warlord or anything like that which could be triggering and icky. He's a lone wolf committed to his own freedom and making his own path as he sees fit. He's a killer, but only when those deaths either protect/defend his freedom and independence, or advance the cause of his power and his personal journey.

HOWEVER, bro is also clearly lonely and touch starved, and willing to take on fake personas in order to find something resembling friendship.

This is where the female power fantasy comes in.

The minute he meets Osha, he's so immediately taken with her that he drops his fake persona and nearly reveals himself. Then when he is ready to kill everyone else to protect himself, he goes out of his way to avoid killing Osha, flirts with her mid battle, keeps checking that she's paying attention when he's talking. The man is crushing on her big time. He even seems impressed every time she fights against him.

By the end of the battle, when he finds her unconscious in the forest, our boy is already halfway in love.

What better power fantasy could there be? Not only does the most deadly man in the galaxy not want to hurt her, but he's totally smitten when all she's done is point weapons at him.

The fantasy only gets more intoxicating from there. Not only does he tuck her into bed and tend her wound, this guy COOKS HER SOUP and respectfully sets up his makeshift bed across the room.

From the moment she picks up his lightsaber, Osha starts losing her fear of him, because it's obvious this dweeb is just peacocking by showing off his nice body and his artfully arranged tendrils of hair and flirting non stop.

The way he literally puts his life in her hands and remains unflinchingly honest and straightforward with her while helping her work through her complicated emotions is only icing on the cake. Not to mention he keeps inviting her to join him, but every time she rejects him he just quietly pouts and respectfully backs down.

I'm not going into detail about how he follows her around like a devoted puppy for the rest of the season while also respecting her personal boundaries.

The bottom line is: Leslye Headland created the ultimate female power fantasy by giving Osha an overpowered monster who instantly falls for her, willingly and eagerly defangs himself, devoted himself to her needs, and submits himself to her choices.

It's also perfectly clear that he can still transform into a monster, but now he's OSHA'S monster. And he's also Osha's biggest fanboy and her eager emotional support person.

Leslye just knows what the girlies like and served it up to us on a platter.

We are so fed. Now just hoping Disney has the guts to keep trying something new by giving us a second season.

[preservationofnormalcy]

[Somewhere deep in the Bronx there’s a warehouse building with a big sign that reads “Carpet Heaven,” and I’m standing outside of it. When I blinked, it changed to “OPN Site 27.” It stayed like that after I looked at it again - a feature of the Office’s “memetic masking” that hides their locations from those not exposed to the supernatural. Or “Extranormal,” as is the Office’s preferred term. Site 27 is the official name for the location - though the staff that work there call it something else: the Station.

Graffiti dots the bricks of the building’s exterior, following me up the small stairs to the building’s entrance. There’s a nondescript door that buzzes as I approach, quietly unlatching. Past the doors, security towers loom in front of me. An electronic voice asks me to place my belongings in a tray and slide them into a conveyor. I do as I’m asked, but I’m somewhat confused - why does this place need so much security?]

A few moments later, I retrieve my things from the tray and keep moving. I’ve become used to the intentional plainness of Office locations. I’m always torn as to what it means. In a place like this, it’s obviously meant to put people off. This is Carpet Heaven, the most boring place in the world. Every panel, every wall, every chair seems to be chosen with the sole purpose of being as unremarkable as possible. But then, many interior locations within the Office are similarly designed. They’re not designed to fool anyone. Did the designers just get used to it?]

[My thoughts are interrupted as I walk into the tiny reception room, a desk with a few chairs and a single fake potted plant. A man stops his conversation with the receptionist, looking me up and down. He’s short and stocky, heavyset, a man clearly used to physical labor - and judging by the look on his face, not used to being inconvenienced at work. His hairy arms folded over a broad chest, his thick eyebrows scrunched into a wary suspicion. A thick mustache completes the look of a blue collar dad, close to retirement but not close enough.]

B] Hendricks. Ma’am.

M] Mr Koppel?

B] Call me Barry.

M] I hear you’re the person to talk to when it comes to occupational health and safety in the Office.

B] I got a reputation for it.

M] I saw the poster about, uh….unstable reality zones, and I wanted to ask you about it.

B] About the zones, or our response to ‘em.

M] Sort of…both if that’s okay. I figured a quick tour wouldn’t be out of the question.

[He nods, his arms not moving from their position across his chest. His voice had an air of curt evasiveness, clearly not enjoying my questions. Now, there’s a moment of awkward silence.]

M] You seem annoyed, Barry.

B] Yeah, well. Let’s just say I wasn’t real happy when I heard you were coming over. Especially today.

M] What’s today?

B] Work meeting later. Something I didn’t think I’d have to start late, and I hope I won’t have to.

M] I won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.

B] No. You won’t.

[It’s a veiled threat, but his tone doesn’t veil it very well. He gives the receptionist a look that she returns, and jerks his head slightly, leading me through the door deeper into the facility. Past the doors, it looks like something you’d expect from a government facility: bare concrete and pipes, emergency lights every several yards. It all looks very old. At this point, Barry seems to catch himself, his tone shifting to that of a practiced but bored tour guide as he leads me down the hallway.]

B] This is OPN Facility 27, known as the Northeastern Power Facility, or to the people that actually work here, the Station. The Station was discovered in 1932 during Operation Doorway, an attempt to investigate rumors of spatially-noncompliant buildings in the United States - that is, buildings bigger on the inside. After mapping and cataloging it, the Station had the distinction of being one of the few spatially noncompliant facilities grandfathered into current extranormal building code.

[Just down the hall is a locker room, which we move through. Barry points to a sign that reads “Hard Hat Area Past This Point” and hands me a hat taken off of a nearby peg.]

B] In other words, this facility is one of the only places in the US legally allowed to be bigger on the inside. The Office did this cause, for reasons that still ain’t totally clear, the Station anomalously produces enough electricity to power the entire eastern seaboard with no energy input. This building powers every Office facility this side of the Mississippi and north of the Mason-Dixon. New York, DC, Philly, Boston. Further than that, with hydrogen. 

[Opening the next set of doors, the facility opens up substantially, a wide open space that looks more like I’d think a warehouse would look. The ceiling several stories above, massive industrial shelves at the edges of the space, machines operating in distinct areas of the room. A forklift beeping away, carrying yellow drum barrels on a pallet. A few workers were here and there, some of them giving Barry a quizzical look that he didn’t return.]

B] It needs people like us to maintain the works during reality shifts, pump out the byproduct, keep everything in as much working order as we can.

[Another set of doors ahead - a massive sign above them reading “End of Geometrically Compliant Building Space.” The hazard symbol on the sign depicted a building within a larger building, the larger of the structures emblazoned with the eye symbol and a question mark. Another sign on the door read “Audio-Memetic Inoculation Equipment Required” with a depiction of a head wearing both a hard hat and large headphones. Barry stopped and jerked a thumb at the door. His voice was low and serious.]

B] Like any spatially-noncompliant structure, this place doesn’t make sense. This wall right here is the absolute limit of what the building’s size should allow, and as you can see, it keeps going.

[He paused, looking back the way we came for a moment.]

B] When the Office figured out they could use this place for free power, they rushed in. But the Station….it didn’t take kindly to that. It doesn’t like intruders. The higher-ups don’t like hearing it, but this place is….kinda alive. It grows, changes. We don’t know who built it, or even if anyone built it. Coulda just appeared one day. From the late 30’s to the early 40’s, it was…a lot of death, lotta guys going home without hands or legs or an eye. Machines not working right, hallways shifting around, pipe structures growing suddenly. There’s places, deep in the belly of this fucking machine, that I’ll never go…we’ve blocked off rooms where time runs in reverse, or that swap temperature extremes every forty-five seconds. Lotta guys like me laid down their lives figuring this place out, mapping it. That’s what the signs and posters are for. Every warning in this building is written in blood.

[He gestured to a worker at a nearby desk, who got up and reached for a tray.]

B] Just past these doors, there’s a hallway in complete silence. Not just a lack of sound, pure silence. If you listen to the lack of sound, you go insane. Understand?

M] I don’t understand why you can’t just…avoid it, or unravel it, or—

B] The Office ain’t gonna just put it’s head in the sand, ma’am. It can’t. And all respect to the wizards and shit upstairs, but sometimes you can’t just wave your hand and make it go away, either. The Station is important. Without us, the entire Office goes down. It’s the sacrifice we make. We gotta deal with the situation in front of us, and sometimes the situation’s got teeth. 

[The worker walked up, offering Barry two pairs of headphones and a clipboard. He took them, checked them over, and handed one to me.]

B] Here. Press the button on the right side, you’ll hear elevator music and nothing else. This’ll protect you from the silence. Then initial the sign out sheet.

[I did so, sliding the bulky device over my head and hearing generic Muzak once I hit the nub on the right. At this point, I didn’t question much of anything. They knew what they were doing. I took the clipboard from him - the sheet was keeping track of the headphones, calling them safety equipment. I wrote my initials on the sheet, noting I was a ‘visitor’, and as I did I noticed Barry and the other worker conversing in sign language.

I was slightly surprised at first. But it made sense - if you had to work a lot of the time in silence with these headphones on, it might be worth the time to teach everyone ASL. I tried not to betray any comprehension. They didn’t need to know I’d grown up with a deaf cousin, had a deaf roommate in college, that while I was rusty I could understand most of what they were saying. The two men gestured furtively, quickly, an ‘accent’ that tinged their words.]

<We have to postpone union meeting?> 

<No. Same time. Won’t take long. Lady is looking for scapegoat.>

<From Upstairs?>

<Unlikely. Ghost-talking I-R-E-N-E telling me she’s been asking around lots of departments.>

<Why?>

<Don’t know. Could be politics.>

<LA?>

[Barry looked over his shoulder, and I tried to look nonchalant, putting the clipboard on a hook by the door and giving him a smile and a thumbs up.]

<Maybe.>

[He nodded and opened the door. I felt a physical sensation as I passed the threshold, and it was silent. It was a silence so intense I could feel it on my skin. When my feet hit the floor I felt nothing, not even the vibration through my own body. It was oppressive, covering me in a heavy blanket. I heard the music in my ears but I was intensely aware that a bundle of plastic and electronics was all that stood between me and…that. I felt like an eternity. I tried to focus on the music as my vision swam, having to stop to breathe when we rounded a corner. When we finally passed through the hallway, taped marks on the floor told me where it was safe to take off my headphones. I was almost out of breath, a little disoriented.]

B] You get used to it.

M] Do you?

B] You gotta if you work here, ma’am.

[His voice slipped back into tour guide mode as the space widened again. Huge doorways on each of the three walls ahead, large enough for a vehicle to pass through. Each passageway had different signage, and two had a conveyor belt stretched across the room, running parallel above us with clear markings on the floor underneath them.]

B] To the left we have the Gearbox, straight ahead is Onto-Runoff Byproduct Packaging, and to the right is the Dynamos, where we try and funnel all power generated by the Station so it can be directed to other facilities or converted into hydrogen energy storage. 

M] Onto-Runoff?

B] That, ma’am, is the stuff on the posters.

[He pointed up to the conveyor belt. Yellow barrels traveled across the room, stamped with the Office logo on one side, and a depiction of an eye on the other.]

B] It’s a byproduct of the Station’s works. The labcoats have been studying it for decades. They’re not real sure what it is, just that it…kind of isn't. It technically doesn’t actually exist. No mass, can't be detected on any spectrum they got. Theory is that we're not actually seeing it, just the absence it creates. Pure, concentrated entropy, runoff from the Station creating energy from nothing. You can’t violate laws of spacetime without some consequences, and in this case it’s creating all this…almost-kinda-real entropy that gets everywhere if we don’t clean it up.

M] Sounds like the Ontophages.

B] Yeah, like that. They think they’re related, but we ain’t seen an Ontophage down here in ages. This non-stuff drops off pipes down in the works, or leaks out of compressors. Pools in lower areas, or gums up machines. If it touches anything outside of the works that exists, it starts to cause what the Office calls ontological dissolution - it gradually stops existing, like an acid that melts reality. Some of it gets processed for the Office’s use, some of it goes to the folks at the Yellow Circle, a good chunk of it goes to long term storage.

M] What does the Office use it for?

[At this, Barry gives me a sidelong look as we approach a small office in the corner between two junctions, little more than a shack.]

B] That part’s classified. We don’t even know. They don’t tell us. Could be a secondary energy process, could be they use it to contain something….could be a weapon.

[The tone in that last phrase…we enter the shack and Barry grabs a drink from a water cooler.]

M] You sound like you have an idea of what it’s used for.

B] A hunch. This stuff is dangerous. It’s half the reason we made the Union way back.

M] The Union? 

[I remembered them signing that word - two fingers extended on each hand, moved in a horizontally circular motion.]

B] The North American Supernatural Worker’s Guild. Started in ‘42 after the big paracompressor explosion down in sublevel 17. The Office kept pushing us, we kept cutting corners, and eventually five people died. Including my great uncle. After that, my grandfather started the Union to push for better working conditions and hazard pay. 

[His tone is softer now, taking a drink. He gestures to the Unstable Reality Zones poster on the wall, a copy of which began my trip here.]

B] I could talk all day about the history of it. We ain’t perfect, of course. Didn’t accept nonhumans until ‘63, which my father went to his grave ashamed of, but we’re the reason the Office more or less abides by the safety guidelines we’ve come up with. Without that there’s a work stoppage, and everything grinds to a halt.

M] Has there been a lot of conflict between the Union and the Office in the past?

B] It’s all conflict, ma’am. The Union and the Office are engaged in a state of irreconcilable disagreement. They wanna pay less and get more, we want better pay and better, safer work. The whole history of the Office can be seen through that lens. 

M] Do you see the posters as a win for the Union?

B] Without a doubt. You know the bodycount we’d have if we didn’t keep drilling all our safety precautions into everyone’s heads? Safety win, morale win. We need all the help we can get.

M] What do you mean?

[Barry finishes his drink, looking away, through the window looking out onto the junction.]

B] Ehh. I’ve said enough already.

M] You too, huh. 

B] Hm? 

M] Everywhere I go in this organization I’m being bounced off walls. Secrecy seems to be something you and the office both abide by. The Office acts like it’s giving me clearance, but….they’re curating my job. 

B] Mmmh. 

M] Everyone I talk to is knowledgeable about what I’m asking, sure, but they’re also….company people. All of them are either trying to cover their ass or they honestly believe that they’re doing the most important job in the world. The only person I’ve met so far with an honest opinion on the Office is you. I thought I might get some actual answers. 

B] About what? 

M] Anything. How the Office determines normality, the numbers stations, the identity of the Director…what happened in Los Angeles. 

[He stiffens.]

B] I don’t know anything about that. 

M] You said the Runoff could be used as a weapon - 

B] I said I had a hunch. Don’t put words in my mouth. 

M] What’s your hunch based on? 

B] Listen. I’m one of those guys covering my ass. If I say something I shouldn’t or I fuck up, I don’t get a slap on the wrist. I'm not some spokesman for the Board of Infernal Affairs. I’m a union officer, and we’re already on thin goddamned ice with the Office. Secrecy is a tool. We both use it for our own goals. 

M] So you can’t help me. 

B] I’m walking you back. This is fucking over. 

M] That’s…probably for the best. 

[I let the moment pass before I speak again.]

M] I don’t want to keep you from your union meeting tonight.

[He stops in his tracks, shooting a look over his shoulder. His face moves from surprise to realization to suspicion. After a moment he half turns back to me.]

B] Ma’am, what are you here for?

M] I just…want answers. All of these interviews have been someone beating around the bush because they’re scared. After your speech about it, I thought the union would be people who could stand up.

[Barry hesitates, frowns, and silently turns back to keep walking. My face burns in embarrassment, my heart racing. This wasn’t worth it. I wanted answers but this wasn’t worth it, was it? Shame now, but what if I pushed a button I couldn’t un-press?

Barry doesn’t speak. We reenter the room of silence, mechanically putting our headphones back on. As we round the corner in the hallway again, he stops. Of course I can’t hear him, but his frame calls as if he’s letting out a heavy sigh. He turns to me, and signs.] 

<Back there, I was being honest. None of us know what happened, but we know something did. We have some shipment records that don’t make sense. Runoff shipped en masse to some site that’s not on public record anymore. Something called Project D-A-M-M-E-R-U-N-G. Our records are shredded. It’s like…>

[He trailed off - with signing, he sort of stared into space and tried to find the right words.]

<Like someone or something came in and tried to destroy everything to do with a certain subject, but only mostly succeeded. Like every fiftieth paper survived or was passed over. That’s what our meeting is about tonight. We know something happened and we’re deciding what to do next. You mentioned the stations. The stations are a part of it.> 

[He pulls a pen from his vest pocket and writes down an address, handing me the paper.]

<Memorize this address, then burn it before you leave. Bring P-E-P-P-E-R-M-I-N-T oil. Put it on before you go.  You’ll need it.>

(Buy the poster here.)

[3dfrost]

The End of Handmade Sex Toys on Etsy

I wrote an article about Etsy's ban on sex toys.

I’ve bought a lot of my toys through Etsy, including some of my favorites like Adventurer from Masterwork Toys and Cyerce Symbiote from Xenocat Artifacts. It’s been an easy way to browse and find new sex toys. For a number of years, it was a great, quality marketplace where you could reliably find indie silicone toys.

Over the past couple years, though, Etsy’s thrown their handmade products commitment to the wind. Now, after years of providing an online home for independent makers (and profiting from the platform fees), Etsy is shuttering all of that and leaving makers with only a month to scramble for a plan B.

Some sex toy shops exclusively hosted on Etsy will shut down. Some sex toy shops that are cross-hosted on Etsy will shut down; some have indicated that the vast majority of their sales come from Etsy and they’re not going to be able to make up the difference.

Is Etsy banning sex toys as an easy way to wipe dropshipped sex toys without employing enough staff to identify what’s handmade vs. what’s not? Are they trying to reduce risk across the board? Are they concerned about getting caught under any of these age verification laws? Are they facing pressure from payment processors and credit card companies?

I don’t have the answer, but whatever the cause, the problems extend beyond Etsy.

[peculiar-and-obtuse]

these r my favorite basic lands from magic: the gathering if u even care🌇✨

how can you not love overgrown architecture

Welcome to the city of Ravnica.

Notice the freefall perspective in these pieces, that's not easy to get to look right by hand (or idk maybe it is. how would I know, it's not like I've tried). They're both by the same painter, as you can see at the bottom of the card.

Ravnica is an ecumenopolis, meaning the city completely covers the surface area of its home planet. It holds a multitude of competing factions, all within the limits of a single, continuous city.

You can feel the suffocating heat and coarse flakes of charcoal on your skin just by looking at this one. Imagine having to spend an afternoon touring this factory, let alone a full 70 hour work week.

There's a couple tiny little guys for scale :) Beyond the ramparts, you can faintly make out what seems to be either a river or the fringe of the another population center, or perhaps both.

Even tinier guys🐜🐜🐜 How many stone bridges and precarious ledges can you spot? Uhuh, and what about guardrails. that's gotta be an OSHA violation but it's chill cause I personally think it looks neat

oooh very spooky & scary😱

this one's prob my absolute fave😈

lovecraftian cult meeting ahh locale💀

Your way out, or yet another meandering cinder highway of madness?

btw can u tell my favorite mtg color is black.

High fidelity card art embedded from Scryfall. Link to the full cycle of Return to Ravnica basic lands

Further reading: Head on over to the Rhystic Studies youtube channel to unlock a damn-near boundless treasure trove of highbrow MTG art analysis by a degreed expert. Consider starting with the Return to Ravnica video I saw long, long before I got the idea to create this blog.

[illarian-rambling]

There was a door, but it wasn't locked. Dehlus closed it silently behind her as she stepped into a long, wide room. Her eyes went wide as she took in…. Gods beyond, were those cells? Fucking shit, those are jail cells! Very cautiously, she made a mark on her inspection checklist. A very dis-satisfactory mark.

Dehlus, I'm very glad that in the depths of this murder dungeon in a laboratory basement, you remember that you are, first and foremost, an OSHA* inspector with a job to do

[naughtynanzhu]

my updated and organized toys BTW (minus a few I wanted to sell 😭)

[marlynnofmany]

I just saw a construction sign with a little stylized sillhouette holding up a stop sign, and the words "Prepare to stop."

That sign would be infinitely improved by the addition of a little Gandalf hat.

[nickandcharlie135]

So I hear The Acolyte has been cancelled after only one season.

Not a happy individual at this moment in time.

[marthajackson-blog]

We are FIGHTING FOR THE ACOLYTE SEASON 2!❤️ Would You like to HELP US? 👇👇👇

✨Rewatch The show and Tell more people to watch it

✨You can sign The petition https://www.change.org/p/renew-the-acolyte

✨And tell Disney You want S2 in comments box help.disneyplus.com

[elettraml]

ꆰ꒤꒐ꉔꀘꇙ꒐꒒꒦ꏂꋪ

[sephirothsplaything]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐰𝐨- The Acolyte 001./ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴꜱ/

a/n: I have so many thoughts about this story, but I just can't say anything for risk of spoiling TT also! the kore-ifacation of Rune is so fun to me!

.......

A Star Wars Fanfic

In which a Jedi faces her dark side

OR

In which Rune finally figures out what she is missing

PARINGS: BLACK OC/QIMIR,SLIGHT YORD,OSHA/JECKI

  

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑,Rune assured herself as she scaled the rocked cave walls of her room. Her hands found purchase as she hoisted herself further upwards. Far above her room,there hung a smoothed out loft,made of sheeted stone.

Rune sat up on her knees when she reached the spot,staring up at the open window on the ceiling. The moonlight poured down onto her,and she bathed in it. Moments such as these when she could be alone were the most valuable to her; Rune’s eyes closed as she smiled softly,likely dreaming of adventures far from her reach.

“Ana-rune,I won’t ask you again!” The voice of Mother Koril broke through her fantasies. Rune peered down from her perch in hesitation,a very annoyed Koril looking up at her.

“Hello mother.” Rune tried innocently,though Koril’s sternness hardly wavered.

“It’s time for your lessons.” Mother Koril stated bluntly. “Now.”

Reluctantly,Rune scaled back down,jumping to the floor gracefully. She was far from a youngling,almost nearing adulthood. Mother Aniseya encouraged it,saying it was a good thing to maintain such childlike wonder;Mother Koril vehemently disagreed though.

“Is it thread training today?” Rune asked,secretly hoping that was the case. Channeling the thread had come quite easily to her at a very young age,it never served as much of a challenge.

Mother Koril walked alongside her into the caved halls of the Brendok fortress. She knew Rune enjoyed the ease of manipulating the thread.

“No,today is a lecture.” Koril responded. Rune’s face fell moodily.

“Everyday is a lecture.” 

Mother Koril gave her a sharp side eye,causing Rune to smile awkwardly.

“You should spend more time listening and less daydreaming.” Mother Koril continued.

“Ah,but don’t you know dreams are messages from the deep?” The calm voice of Mother Aniseya greeted them.

Rune smiled brightly at the sight over her other mother. Compared to Koril,Aniseya had always been much more liberal with her,which was much appreciated. She took her seat on one of the rocky cavea edges.

“Do you know why we live on Brendok,Runie?” Mother Aniseya questioned softly once Rune was seated comfortably.

“People fear our power.” Rune answered immediately. She knew the answer wouldn’t completely satisfy her mother.

Aniseya hummed. “Say more things.”

“They don’t understand our connection to the thread,I think.” Rune said. She knew their coven faced persecution,mainly from the Jedi Order.

Mother Aniseya smiled a little. “And what is our connection?”

Rune pursed her lips in thought.Her mother was looking for a specific answer,something more personal. She could say the thread is the stuff of life,encompassing everything around it. 

But to her it was different. It always was with her.

“It’s the ability to feel my connection to the galaxy.”  Rune said after a while.

“Very good.” Aniseya approved,her voice laced with pride. “And those feelings will enable you to lead this coven some day.”

Rune’s expression tensed slightly as she anxiously tugged at one of her locs, It was selfish of her,she knew that but her mother has always stressed the importance of honesty.

“I couldn't lead the coven.” Rune blurted suddenly. “Not like you do.”

“How do you mean,my darling moon?” Mother Aniseya sighed,seating herself by her daughter.

Rune rested her head onto her mother’s shoulder. “Because i’m not like you.”

“I’m not so perfect.”

Aniseya was quiet for a moment as she stroked Rune’s head. Then,she stood up,gesturing for Rune to follow her. They walked the path to the cliffs,where Rune’s ascension ceremony would take place in only a few short days;Rune would become a witch,a fully fledged sister of the coven.

When the two reached the edge,Aniseya tilted Rune’s chin up towards the sky. The Brendok sky was a dark purple,littered with twinkling stars. There was not a day that passed by where Rune wasn’t completely taken with the view.

“Look at the stars, Runie.” Aniseya whispered to her. “See how they shine for you?”

Her mother would tell her that often,as assurance whenever Rune exhibited a certain doubt about herself. But how did that make sense? Did the stars ever shine for others?

“It takes complete commitment to lead,you’ve taught me that.” Rune shook her head,as if it would lessen the longing tugging on her heart.

When Mother Aniseya didn't respond,she felt compelled to explain herself further.

“The Brendok moons have each other,you have Mother Koril.” Rune began. “But I have no one.” 

Aniseya glanced at her daughter in slight concern. Koril had warned her of this much,she knew Rune was lonely. But she was painfully unsure how to remedy that.

Create another life? It would be too soon.

“You have us and then coven.” Aniseya responded,though she knew it wouldn't suffice her daughter’s contemplation. The price of creating a dreamer,she supposed.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Rune said,her tone was tinged with annoyance. 

Rune wanted to see the other planets,how people lived their lives. She wished to stuff her face with foreign foods and make actual friends;And deep down,the thread of force was tugging gently,guiding her to explore it.

“You are our coven’s future.” Aniseya said. “They have expectations.”

“I never asked for that!” Rune raised her voice,causing her mother to flinch slightly.

She had never yelled at anyone,let alone her own mother. Regret instantly filled her,however she was suddenly in no mood to apologize.

“I just..want to be free,to not hide on some isolated planet from Jedi who couldn't possibly understand us.”   

“Others consider our power dark,you know this.” Mother Aniseya said. “This is for our protection.”

“But I don’t want protection.” Rune snapped,far from caring how bratty she sounded. 

“Ana-rune!” Mother Koril scolded harshly. She had been silently observing the lessons from afar,but felt the need to intervene. 

“You’ve forgotten yourself.”

Rune hadn't realized she was still here,but she hardly cared.

Ignoring her mothers’ objections,she fled,walking all the way back to her room. As if to drive home her tantrum,Rune flicked her hand to force shut the door closed with an obnoxious bang.

She flopped onto her bed,taking a large breath through her nose. Reaching out a hand,her fingers delicately traced the outlined edges of her ceiling.

One day, she hoped; She’d find what was pulling her.

[3dfrost]

Updated coffee collection photo ☕