#I would like to understand the unique functioning of his body as well

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝟓

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: You and Soldier Boy want to create a family and move on from everything, even the Vought, but you also know that he has to face Homelander one last time to keep his vow to Butcher. However, nothing turns out as you had hoped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, memory loss, Soldier Boy gets hurt, reader gets hurt, language

Word Count: 6025

A/N: English is not my first language.

Soldier Boy promised to help you remember him, so you and him took your time in the room for some time more, and you thought twice about what to do next. The most powerful Supe would never lie to you about you having a relationship with him in the past; it would be absurd. He had no reason for lying to an ordinary person. Still, you were afraid he might use you to track Butcher and the others. Even so, you had to proceed with caution. 

You politely interrupted him to not ruin the mood by saying, “Don't get mad, but I still need to talk to Butcher first and ask him about... us and learn why he wouldn't tell me about you.”

His hands immediately left your face after you had said Butcher a hundred times, and you carried on speaking until he said something offensive: “I know you hate them, and it's them who betrayed you. At least that's what you're telling me, but I must listen to him as well. You have to realize that I'm confused and frightened, and he's the only person I can remember.”

He looked around the room, irritated that you remembered Butcher but not him, despite the fact that you shared a lot with him. You placed your hands on the hard, cold material on his chest, on the star symbol, to show him that you weren't too distant or that you weren't pushing him away from you straight away. You waited patiently for his response. Without a doubt, Ben was more significant and unique than Butcher and everyone else to him, and he tried not to get angry. 

With a cold voice and an irritated expression on his face, Soldier Boy remarked, “I can't believe you actually remember that pussy, but not me. I don't like how your brain works at that point.”

“I'm trying so hard to remember you, or at least a little something about you, but I'm just not successful. It's not that I forgot everything on purpose,” you whispered, feeling a little guilty about the idea that you might, your old self, actually love him if what he said was true. 

On the other hand, you had no feelings of love or affection for Soldier Boy. In reality, though, you were scared because he appeared to be unpredictable and cruel. Even if you lost all memory of him, wouldn't you still love him? When you were having memory loss, you had no idea how the brain functions, but that's what you felt at the time. 

Rapidly, “I know, I know,” Soldier Boy replied. “I'm not angry with you or putting blame on you. However, that son of a bitch needs to pay for what he did to you, including throwing your body against the table, hitting your head, and not telling you about me. He crossed the line.”

You added, “He must have a reason, and I really need to talk to him. I just need to hear it from him too,” feeling concerned at the way Soldier Boy discussed the past as though Butcher was the evil guy. Still, you didn't find anything you said to be slightly reasonable. Instead of keeping what happened to you a secret from you, he could have told you that both you and Soldier Boy had a past and given you the explanation you deserved. 

“Don't you trust me?” He was annoyed that you would continue to stand up for Butcher in the face of him. 

“To be honest, I don't trust you, but please don't get upset with me.” You whispered, “You know I have no memory about you, and I need you to understand me,” and he gave you a hurt look. You tried to smile at him and said, “But I think you'd already killed me the moment you found me in this room if I was a total stranger to you,” as guilt filled your heart. “That must mean something, right?”

With a surprised low laugh and a nod, Soldier Boy said, “You're a smartass, aren't you?”

Uncontrollably, his smile made you feel a little more at ease, and you exhaled a sigh of relief that he wasn't being aggressive anymore. 

“So, talking about trust issues,” he added, arching an eyebrow. “I guess you don't want to go back to them since there is a high possibility that I would follow you and find your precious pussy friends, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, not wanting to risk the lives of others or anything because Soldier Boy was too determined to kill them. “In this case, I think I better call Butcher and talk to him through the phone.”

He nodded, “Very well,” relieved that you were no longer so keen to return to the traitors. It was certainly because he had threatened to murder them, but which reason wasn't important at the time. When you were so confused and bewildered, he would never allow you to return to them. You were obviously brainwashed by Butcher. 

You looked around and said, “Okay, I'll call him, but you can get me out of here first?”  as he waited patiently for you to call them. “You know, there are other politicians and supes.”

“Yeah, it's better we get the fuck out of here now,” he said with irritation. “I hate discussing politics anyway. Personal matters should come first, right?” Soldier Boy said, giving you a wink and picking up the gun off the table and putting on his suit again.

You nodded to him and adjusted your jeans. You flushed under his focused gaze, remembering how he had torn off your panties simply to spill himself on moments before. It was as though his gaze were stripping you. As he found out about your memory loss and that you didn't require intimacy, you hoped he wouldn't try to touch you again. After all, you had given him what he desired from you—that is, protection from harm. Nothing more. 

As he observed you adjusting your t-shirt and hair while blushing, Soldier Boy added in a hard, serious voice, “By the way, we'll talk about your that hand job later.”

You simply looked at him with a flushed face, not answering him. 

“Let's just leave without paying any attention to this house. Stay cool.” He heard your heart race and raised an eyebrow as if to warn you, saying, “I'll be following you.”

One of the politicians commented, “Ah, he's finally back,” as he sipped his drink and waived his hand to Soldier Boy as you walked by his side during your exit from the room. 

“It's unfortunate that I have to leave now, gentleman. There is so much to do,” said Soldier Boy, putting a slight grin on his face and placing a small hand on your back. “Homelander will be available shortly, and he'll be the one to talk to you about details.”

You exhaled a relieved sigh, and politicians didn't even look at you as if you didn't exist. You would have assumed that they were already enjoying themselves without Soldier Boy because they were eating anything the waiters brought. 

“Homelander just told me that we would be talking to you too,” one of them remarked. “The public is still worried about you returning given what you did in New York. Things are difficult to restore, especially when it comes to trust.”

“Trust is overrated; it's simply built on perfect lies. Also, who the hell cares about the public? I thought you were more experienced and smarter than this. Through the media and a well-written dumb speech, it's simple to dominate their thoughts.” Soldier Boy spoke harshly, “You already know that they are unable to view the bigger picture properly in their own narrow worlds. What's important is to find who's responsible for planning assassination against the vice president, find those terrorists Butcher and his useless team, and prove that the CIA is behind all of the shit.”

“And,” Soldier Boy said in an authoritative tone as one of the politicians opened his mouth to speak. “It will be exposed that the CIA was responsible for my forty years of fucking torture in Russia. The public will discover the truth in this way, and they will once more support their one true supe. That's how we rescue our nation from the trash that's been dumped on it. Are we clear about this?”

After a brief glance around, you noticed that The Deep and Black Noir were eating and conversing as though they were starving. You thought about if it would be simple to shoot Noir without drawing notice, and you still had your gun with you. Well, you have to do this anyhow. It was likely that by keeping Soldier Boy a secret from you, Butcher had actually betrayed you. But it wasn't like you were prepared to abandon them and simply join Homelander and Soldier Boy on their own wicked team. Not fucking way.

You have to use the virus on a strong person quickly enough to start developing it. But first, you had to take care of your own issue. 

One of them said, “But..”

“No buts, no deals, no mercy,” Soldier Boy interrupted him right away. “Homelander will handle the majority of the problem on his own. With the exception of the CIA and their pawns, of course, neither Vought nor I want to see bloodshed, but it's best to bring things under control as soon as possible. Remember that President, Vought, and Homelander are trusted by the public. It's best if you give it your all. Consider this a recommendation or warning—I don't give a damn. However, be aware that the president will always back us. I mean, I'll be giving my best for my beloved nation, isn't that right?” Soldier Boy patted the politician's shoulder as he spoke, who was trying to get free of Soldier Boy's cruel and tight hold on him while clearing his throat nerveously.

“Yes, without a doubt, we are going to help you fix your public image. It is quite unfortunate that you are one of the victims of the CIA. It's simple to mislead the public about your intentions by the media,” remarked the other politician, who was casually sipping his whiskey and acting as though Soldier Boy hadn't just threatened them. “We are all in the same ship.”

Soldier Boy grinned broadly and added, “Vey good,” patting the politician's shoulder once more before he stepped back, clearly indicating he wasn't willing to spend time talking for hours. “I guess we are done here.”

Calling out to Black Noir and The Deep, Soldier Boy surveyed his surroundings. You stepped back and briefly locked eyes with Soldier Boy. When he saw that you were becoming anxious, his gaze softened, but he remained silent and did not move.

Squeezing Black Noir's shoulder firmly, Soldier Boy remarked, “The Deep and Black Noir, my old loyal friend from the Seven, will be discussing details.”

You were startled and alarmed when The Deep briefly locked eyes with you, but you ignored him and walked carefully toward the door, knowing that Soldier Boy was almost done with them. You were relieved that no one paid you any attention or questioned you. All of them showed interest in chatting with Soldier Boy.

“Are you okay?” whispered Soldier Boy as you waited for him outside, and you shivered when you felt his hand on your back.

You lied, “Yeah, sure,” and he instantly withdrew his hands.

It irritated him that you had become such a liar. “You must know that my Supe hearing can detect when you are lying to me,” he stated. You used to be different from this, and you always told him the truth about everything. particularly in regards to your current state of mind.

Even though you were the same person, it was difficult to accept that you had changed somewhat. But something has changed about you, and that's when Ben started to get upset. He had best to do anything needed to make you remember everything.

He shot you a cold look, and you said, “What will you do if I say, 'No, I'm not feeling good'?”

“At least I'd know you are being honest.”

With a quick smile, you said, “Well, remember that I don't even know you,” as if it didn't matter what you might have shared in the past.

Soldier Boy gave you a grumpy and unhappy look before gently pushing you to the car. After you left the supe-filled house, there was silence between you in the car.

Thinking about how he talked to the politicians, you felt uneasy and disturbed. You couldn't stop thinking about what kind of person you were and loved Soldier Boy if he was right about you being something months ago.

“What's happening in your head right now?” Soldier Boy finally asked you after giving you a look while you were driving. as if he were whispering.

This time, you said honestly, saying, “I was thinking about the way you talked to the politicians,” unwilling to ignore it and feeling a little more brave around him because he didn't appear to be a threat to you.

“And?”

You shifted in your seat, and you managed to ask, “Is it true that you are going to really team up with Homelander?” after giving it some thought.

Since he had a personal issue with Butcher and the others and was now filled with a desire for vengeance, you could try to understand him about them. However, it didn't seem proper to team up with the worst Supe alive and carry on doing out vile acts for evil people on behalf of evil people in positions of power. All it was was modern-day slavery.

“Are you having a problem with that?”

You shook in your seat at that moment, unable to speak for a long time due to the extreme coldness of his voice.

“Of course!” you replied, raising your voice slightly as if his question were the most ridiculous thing ever. Your former self could not possibly approve of the way he handled the Vought and Homelander crises. “What makes you even want to work with him? Even though he is biologically your son, he is still cruel and vile, just another Vought toy.”

“What do you expect me to do?” He raised his voice a bit as well, unhappy about how your voice sounded critical and icy toward him.

“Well, you don't have to allow people to take advantage of your strength simply because you hate Butcher and the others. If Butcher truly betrayed you like you told me, anyone could do so at any time; Homelander, politicians, and Vought included especially.”

“Even you?” he asked quietly, seemingly interested in finding out what you thought of him.

You were about to say yes, but you kept your mouth quiet out of fear for his reaction. Ben sighed, disturbed by your overly cautious and controlled acts next to him, as he realized that. It was as though you had truly vanished, as though he was speaking to someone else. He sensed then that even though you were with him at that same moment, by his side, he was still missing you. You were just with him physically. He realized then that he had to find you again and help you remember what you had. It nearly disturbed him to have that cautious, angry woman without memory by his side. He felt guilt filling his heart when he gave you an odd look. He had to be more understanding and soft toward you and not let his hatred for Butcher take over.

Soldier Boy simply said, “Things changed. You must choose a side no matter what time. Despite knowing that Homelander was actually my son, I had Butcher swear to murder Homelander. I was prepared to murder him until Butcher attacked me.”

You firmly stated, “He would never stop anyone from killing Homelander,” knowing full well that Butcher despised Homelander.

“It appears that you either don't recall everything about him or don't know everything about him. Do you even recall that Homelander's wife had a son?”

You exclaimed, “What?” in shock, thinking he was going to lie to you.

“Go ahead, give him a call, and ask about Ryan, his wife's son,” Soldier Boy added, flashing you a cunning smile.

“It seems like he didn't tell you.” Not surprised that Butcher was taking rather too long to tell you the truth about what actually took place, Soldier Boy asked with a slight smile. “And you still trust him, but not me.”

You kept calling Butcher every single time, and you said, “He's not answering my calls,” in a hurt voice. You had the option to call the others as well, but at that moment, all you wanted and needed was to talk to Butcher, and his lack of response was leading you to believe that Soldier Boy had been telling you the whole truth.

With a heavy heart, you placed your phone in your pocket and showed him how weak you were by holding yourself back from crying suddenly with your hands by your sides. When you were with Soldier Boy, you had no idea what kind of person he was, but you didn't want him to see you were that vulnerable, at least.

Butcher's betrayal was not quite as heavy as Kimiko's. When she knew you weren't even a Supe, why would she even leave you with Soldier Boy? If he had believed that you had deceived him as well, he might have hurt you. You believed that you had become friends with her. She must have known you for a very long period as well. The realization that she had been lying to you hit you even harder.

Confidently,  “Of course he won't answer,” remarked Soldier Boy. “He must be planning what to say to you and how to tell fresh lies to deceive you, leaving you even more confused.”

“He doesn't need to take any action in this case.” You said in a sour voice, “I don't think you're a good person at all after hearing you there and listening to the way you talked to those people.” You could not possibly just accept him collaborating with Homelander.

He gave you a tender glance and stated, “You love me,” without even trying to understand what you were trying to convey. “You, Butcher, and everyone else are aware of that. When you remember about us, we can have a proper conversation, alright?”

Ben was just bothered by the weight on his chest, which gave him the impression that you were a shapeshifter even if you weren't. Even though he was in love with you, he couldn't shake the unpleasant feeling that was eating him alive. It felt like he was trying reaching out to the real you that was hidden inside your body when he tried to speak with you. It was hard with your aloof,

nervous, and icy gaze. It was always easy to persuade him because of your understanding and kind tone, even when you two had previously had some disagreements. But now everything was different.

Saying with a sigh, “I don't know what kind of person I was before my memory loss, but I'm positive that I don't, and I can't be with you. I don't know if I'll be able to retrieve my memory, but if not, my feelings for you won't change. You are cruel.”

You were about to add something, but, “That's not what you really think of me,” he cut you off. “Let's simply spend the night somewhere tonight and talk to the greatest doctors who can help you tomorrow in the morning. We both need some rest. We'll get through this,” Soldier Boy assured you, quickly putting your hand in your lap and giving it a gentle squeeze to demonstrate his patience and sympathy.

With a strange expression on your face, you questioned, “What if I don't?” as your thumb lightly brushed across the surface of his hand. “What if I never remember anything about myself, you, or us despite all effort, even if the doctors and I do our best?”

“I gave you my promise,” he murmured, trying to show confidence and self-assurance as if there was no other option. “All you need is the best medical and psychological care possible. I'm everything you need. Not with Butcher's lies, nor any other person's. Me alone.”

You wanted to believe him at that vulnerable time, even though you could never be certain of the kind of person he genuinely was with you in the past. You wanted to think that he loved you more than anyone else. Looking at his powerful hands, which might have killed you in an instant, you held back your smile, seeing those hands were holding yours gently. You couldn't stop thinking about giving it a shot, but you didn't want to be too close or too far away from him. Given how simple it was for him to swap sides, he was obviously a cruel Supe, similar to Homelander, but perhaps you could change things.

“Since you were unfamiliar with me an hour earlier,” he added, changing the topic. “Why were you alone yourself on the third floor? You were there because Butcher assigned you another foolish and risky mission? Sending you there as if you were some prey?”

You lowered your gaze to the point where your hands touched and said, “You already know the answer,” as he looked at you.

“He's too fucking brilliant or too stupid to send you to me. I have to admit you had me distracted. If he had another plan in his stupid head by sending you to distract me, he is most likely successful.”

You said, “Butcher actually had no idea you were going to be there.”

“So you're saying I was lucky to find you, huh?” Soldier Boy winked at you and continued driving, barely checking at the road. You were afraid of him because of how careless he drove. He wouldn't die in a car crash, but you most certainly would. “I must confess that I was able to recognize your voice from the one noise you made up there. I suppose my supersensitive hearing was overly sensitive to you these days.”

He asked again, curious, when you failed to respond, “Why were you there? What would you do with that adorable little gun of yours that's still attached to your adorable pants?”

You instantly replied, straightening your t-shirt and widening your eyes. “Nothing!”

���Don't get excited; you can keep that useless gun with you, baby, if it will make you feel better,” he remarked simply, becoming annoyed when you immediately withdrew your hands from him.

“It's just a gun, nothing more.”

You attempted to sound calm and collected, but you were sweating and your heart was racing, so he could know you were lying to him again. Surprisingly, though, he remained silent and didn't make you tell him the details—for which you were grateful.

“Okay, keep that tiny, adorable toy if it makes you feel more secure. For the record, I can defend you more effectively than anyone, but I must warn you that hiring a Supe to keep you safe from criminals is incredibly pricey.”

This time, when he smirked and spoke to you in a lighthearted way, you couldn't stop giggling.

You laughed in response to his amusement, saying, “I need to think about this.”

“By the way, why in the world did you give me a hand job there while you really didn't even know who I was?”

Attempting to act cool, you crossed your arms over your chest when Soldier Boy brought up the intimate subject between you, drawing your hands to yourself and making a flushed face. This time, his tone was a little more stern and cold instead of playful.

“You made an attempt to take me there. It appeared to be an escape route.” You defended yourself. You were certain that your face blushed crimson.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighed in annoyance. “Of course I wouldn't force myself on you if you simply said 'no' and explained your situation to me.”

“How on earth could I be knowledgeable about that? I was frightened when a supe tried to take me on a table since you seemed so determined to take anything you wanted there.” You raised your voice to try to win him over. You weren't even brave enough to act reasonably there.

“What if someone else was attempting to... and it wasn't me? Fuck. I'd rather not even think about it. Now that you are sitting in your seat without your underwear, look what happened. I must admit, though, that I really enjoyed your little handiwork.”

Soldier Boy must have seen your heart racing uncontrollably again, because he said these things to either make you feel shy or excited.

You asked abruptly, hoping to annoy him with a hint of harshness mixed with curiosity, “And how on earth you couldn't tell I was lying if your supe hearing is too sensitive when I said I missed you too, because I was definitely lying?”

He added in a sour voice, “I was too fucking horny to focus if your heart beat was racing because of excitement or lying, sweetheart,” dismissing the fact that you had lied to him about missing him and ignoring the burise on his pride. “Who knows? Maybe both.”

You felt guilty as you noticed the lighthearted tone in his voice fade into a sort of sorrowful glimpse. He was aware that you were going through memory loss and that you weren't truly missing him or anything. It wasn't your fault, of course, but since he was your former personality's boyfriend and not your own, you wanted to cheer him up right now even if you didn't know how. It was hard to believe that you were the same real person as before, but you had the impression that your memories of him were more important to him than you were.

You whispered to him, observing his expression. “But if I were the same person as I was months before, I'm certain I would miss you. Of course, that is, if we were a real thing.”

When Soldier Boy saw that you were trying your hardest to cheer him up, he lit up with you a tiny smile to let you know he appreciated it. Your genuine behavior, sensitivity, and compassion were still present, at least.

He said, “It's okay,” with such firmness that you remained silent until you got there. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

You were unaware that he had been holding your hand the entire time.

When you realized that they had decided to stay in the house that Butcher had brought you to a few days prior, you asked in a hushed voice, “Why?” in shock. It was the home you most likely spent several months living in.

You knew that Butcher had told you to leave when he found out Soldier Boy was free since Soldier Boy had also must have lived in this house for a while.

“I promised to help you to recover.” He whispered, “We have to start somewhere,” and quietly closed the door while urging you inside. “This seems like a good place to start. It is too full with memories for us.”

You said, “Butcher told us to leave this home as soon as he knew you were free,” obviously not wanting to reveal too much.

“I thought so,” Soldier Boy agreed, unable to stop thinking about Butcher's cunning ways and how he did everything in his power to keep you away from him, and he angrily remarked, “He balls are not big enough to confront me.” You could never be taken from him. No fucking way.

You inquired, “Do we have good memories in here?” not knowing if he would be completely honest with you.

“Both good and bad. It took us a while to really start a relationship,” Ben said, remembering the unpleasant moments when he was being mean to you, and you found it simple to tell him how you felt, but he wasn't as ready as you were to do so. “Good memories were also there, though. In the last three or two months, we managed to work it out. It wasn't like we were toxic or something. Mostly.”

You only mumbled, “Hmm,” as you tried to imagine your relationship in your thoughts.

You followed upstairs without saying anything more, feeling the need to return to the room where you were assured it wasn't important. You wondered if your feelings would change if you spent time with Soldier Boy this time.

With a sigh of relief, Ben followed you there and watched you go to the room where he had spent months. He experienced discomfort and agony at the same time since you could remember the room where he stayed even though you were completely unaware of it.

Even if you forgot about him and everything you had, a piece of your love was still there, clinging to him and refusing to let go. Your body had its own thoughts about him.

“What did you choose this room?” As you closed the door behind you, Soldier Boy asked softly, hoping you would recall one small detail about him.

The emptiness and silence in the room created the same heavy sensation that was tearing at your spirit and couldn't even be named. It was a heavy feeling that filled your heart with aching thoughts. You knew it was important even if you weren't sure if it was the nothingness or the silence that affected you that hard.

“I found myself in this room when Butcher brought me from the hospital to this house.” You mumbled, “I don't even know why,” unable to contain your own sadness.

“And?” Soldier Boy asked, forcing himself to suppress a proud smile at your remarks.

“I'm not sure why, but I had a very depressing, possibly saddened feeling that I can't quite describe. All I can recall is that that evening, I cried all as I fell to sleep.”

Ben kept coming toward you, hugging you tightly from behind and kissing the back of your head firmly, all with a heavy heart. Your hands brushed his rough ones on your lower abdomen, but you avoided pushing him since you believed that being near to him would help your brain function. Nothing compared to how close and intense it was.

Saying in a rough, whispery voice, “This is the room I've been in for months,” he said. “You actually spent a lot of time in this room with me; we had many wonderful moments together. Your body must have a memory of its own.”

“I really tried hard, but...” you began to defend yourself, not sure for what, but he interrupted you right away with understanding.

“I know, I know.”

With a shy glance, you were able to save yourself from Soldier Boy just after you had a moment of silence. You clearly needed rest after such a difficult and stressful day.

You said, hoping to change the conversation and find out what his intentions were about tonight: “Will we stay the night here? I should mention that you have nothing to wear. The entire wardrobe appears to have been emptied. But I'll search Kimiko's room for something for myself.”

“Yes, we definitely will. Also, that's not a big deal,” he muttered as he hurriedly began to remove the cloth covering his chest and place it on the table.

Thoughts raced through your head as you held your breath for a moment. It appeared that a discussion regarding the best course of action was required.

With the knowledge that Soldier Boy was determined about sleeping by your side, you changed your clothes after finding clean underwear in Kimiko's room. God, you thought he might try to fuck you again after you had given him a handjob two hours earlier. This time, you believed that handwork would not be sufficient. You needed to speak with him in a serious tone.

You had no idea how your sex life with him would be, and you didn't think he would force you or anything, but he was still a supe, your so-called ex-lover or whatever. The situation was simply awkward. You had to let him know that you were different now. When you walked into the room, he was examining every inch of you while wearing a sly smirk.

With a trembling voice, you stated, “Well, I guess I need to be clear about something.” You really tried to sound tough and confident. It was becoming difficult to maintain your composure, though, under his playful gaze as he removed his jeans and boots. “I must tell you that I don't want any sexual stuff because, as you know, I can't recall a single thing about us. Until I regain my memories, you are, at the very least, a complete stranger to me.”

Ben grunted in exhaustion as he lay on the bed, rolling his eyes and holding back a smile in response to your explanation. You watched him nervously, waiting for an answer.

“Actually, I had no intention to,” he remarked honestly. “Of course, I still love you and want to give you a good fuck very much, we both need that, but you know, you kind of feel like a different person now. I suppose we need to go through this quickly so you will remember us. When things get back to normal in our relationship, that's when I'll give you a big, deep fuck, so you better heal quickly.”

His lighthearted remarks about how you were like someone else to him didn't make you feel better—in fact, they kind of broke your heart—but at least he was serious about staying away from you, which was good. What you shared in the room hours ago was already too much.

You turned your back on him and felt his naked upper body moving closer to yours instantly, but you remained motionless. You simply awaited his next action.

Once more, the hands of Soldier Boy stroked your lower abdomen, drawing you even closer to him and pressing your back against his bare and warm chest. You felt his power on your back. Uncontrollably, your hand contacted his rough one to see whether he would react to you and to feel something toward him. Although they were warm, rough, and understanding, surprisingly, his hands were not forceful.

He mumbled to your ear, wanting you to make yourself remember what you had. “We used to spend most of our time here, lying like this for months, for many nights,” he said.

Your hands lingered on his hands and said nothing, and he went on, “I miss you so much.” His tone was achingly sharp.

The way he'd said it, with his firm voice as though he was talking to someone else, was supposed to make you feel better, but it didn't. You wondered if he would still love and care for you, even if you felt like a stranger to him and you couldn't remember anything about him. With that kind of personality, wouldn't he love you? He had loved and missed the other side of you that he had been missing.

There was no more space between you two as he held you near to him; your back felt the warmth of his bare, powerful and warm chest, but you were agonizingly too distant to stay close and way too cold.

Next Chapter

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A/N: Comments are very much appreciated. They keep me going. ^.^

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[lychgate]

Echo brain comic?? My beloved?

this one's pretty new and id like to in the least get some segments drawn up if i can

i went balls deep in depth about my personal ideas of Echo's structure and how it works, it has much more writing rn then art lemme get some snippets:

tech and echo begin digging around in his wiring as echo's health has lately began to decline rapidly. Blood transfusions are becoming daily, exhaustion occurs much quicker, and newest to the issues are these seemingly random seizures. They've attempted many outside options at remedying the problem but it was becoming urgently clear that the only way to get answers would be to open up his system and understand exactly how his body operates from the inside out. Echo is mostly on edge because he fears finding the answer that is he's just doomed to die soon, and that his body was in no way sustainable outside of that fridge. He fears the idea of dying so much that he has manic considerations of being put back in some sort of stasis chamber. Death, which he never feared prior to the citadel, but now he's come to be you know uhhh quite traumatized from it. But he also hates the idea of that fridge!! caught between two terrible options, wowie here ill add some more breakdown of that in a read more if anyone is interested in paragraphs of bullshit:

as for a brief descriptor on the shit on his head and body, from this paragraph:

Tech: these rivets across your skull are not simple ports one can just plug into. They're a very unique structure, containing an extremely delicate, but long system of thin metallic fibers wiring throughout your brain. These 'rivets' then act as anchors to those metal fibers, which then respond to very specific electric signals that we can access at the nodes on the surface here. If the signals sent are not exact. Well. Echo: yeah I get it I get it.

and some write up on how Tech begins to diagnose the problem:

Eventually Tech will find his way into deeper functions of the brain, finding shortcuts that were already developed by the Techno Union scientists for the sake of their own equipment likely. Categorized sections for monitoring all sorts of chemicals and levels within Echo's body, most of which were left on an automatic function to regulate.

Tech begins to understand that the key issue is that this program, and these automatic functions, were fitted for exactly the stasis chamber Echo had been put in, and if they want to begin fixing Echos phsyical body, he would have to start going in and coding line for line, functions that pertain to the body on a sustainability outside that fridge. Some functions were completely turned off, being that Echo was getting fed certain synthesized chemicals thru the machine, his brain had to be telling itself NOT to produce said things naturally.

But it's all very finicky work that requires continuous maintenance and updates, not much unlike a patch update to any other computer program, except this is Echo's life. It's an impossible amount of code to do in any short time frame, and so Tech will begin splicing lines of code from similar organic droids with systems of similar complexity.

They handle these sessions once per week, giving time for Echo's body to catch up and adjust. At first he begins feeling some nausea, his heart rate starts rising, but he insists something feels good about it and urges Tech to keep going. Echo begins to feel warmth back in his body, his mood increases, after about a month hair begins to grow again, muscle mass fills in what once was skeletal limbs, nail beds regain a lively shine. Besides a few errors in updates like over producing a chemical or small bouts of insomnia, everything seems On Course.

and then:

So now we get into the meat of the drama, which is a lot of Echo mania and identity issues:

By this point Tech has outfitted much easier screw on parts so they can go in and out of this program faster (the set up previously was hours of work) so pulling that up he theorizes that he will have to do more then just reverse programs that the Techno Union set up. Tech now believes he'll have to create NEW systems, as the old program appears to be getting corrupted from all of Tech's editing. The seizures are, at this point to their best guess, coming from this. That parts of his brain are literally crashing, and soon he's going to start having more serious issues like bro is gonna just have a massive stroke at some point. Tech points that out all regular voice and Echo is just 'great im back in the mental swamp' Now that Echo's learned that he has corrupted files eating away at his brain, and that the chance of having a massive stroke is like inevitable, he's back to feeling like anxious shit. It doesn't help that this will take Tech a lot of time to figure out. Truthfully he's putting as much effort as he can into it, but this is when Echo begins to get Really mentally unwell. He's both worrying and also trying NOT to worry out of fear that it's going to complicate the program even more. Echo begins to have identity issues, coming to rely more on the mechanics then the organics that make him. He doesn't feel like a human with robot parts anymore, he feels like a robot with human parts.

and it keeps going like there's parts where echo is begging Tech to up programs on dopamine generation and Tech has to turn him down cause that would just be creating an addiction problem, situations where Echo starts trying to mess with his own brain, situations where he tries to kill Tech, its a lot of rambling but im not a writer, like i can't write for shit and I'd like to try and draw it instead

[weenwrites]

Hi, can I request TFP headcanons (megatron, predaking and shockwave) with a gorgon medusa s/o? The reader has a human body but has snake hair and is also a very beautiful person, and does his power to turn people into stone also work on Cybertronians? (note: the reader can only activate the powers if she wishes).

✎A/N: Hi, please keep in mind next time that I only write gender neutral readers, so as such I've written the headcanons in third person.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Megatron

He's primarily interested in weaponizing their ability against the Autobots, and the fact that their ability is irreversible is what makes them all the more powerful when compared to the likes of the most dangerous iacon relics such as the immobilizer. He's put Shockwave in charge of conducting experiments to test the limits of their abilities, and ordered Knockout to look over your physical health during and after the experiments.

He's paid little attention to human culture and folklore, so he doesn't know of the Greek myths surrounding gorgons unless they've explicitly told him. But the most fascinating thing he's heard from these myths is how Perseus was still able to utilize Medusa's petrification abilities even after her beheading. Now, he doesn't take these myths as truths, and he swears by his very spark that they will come to no harm, but he still keeps it in mind.

Predaking

He's rather fascinated by their non-human appearance. Of course they still retain quite a lot of human features, but their hair is something unique. He never knew that it wasn't considered normal to have living snakes in place of hair, but then again he doesn't have much experience with humans in general.

Regardless of whether they're cold-blooded like a snake or warm-blooded, there's no denying that his naturally warm plating isn't nice to cuddle up against. He's good at regulating his own temperature as well, to ensure that his plating isn't scorching hot to the touch or uncomfortably chilly.

If they feel any sort of alienation from other humans, he can vaguely relate with that feeling too. However, he doesn't feel any negative feelings as a result of the stark differences between him and a "normal" cybertronian. His predacon heritage makes him proud, it sets him out as unique, stronger, and better than the others in his eyes. So the way he sees it, with your superior abilities, you're better than other humans.

Shockwave

Their ability would prove most useful against the Autobots, as soldiers on the field naturally try to broaden their view of the enemy whilst remaining concealed themselves. Primarily, his goal is to understand how their ability works in order to replicate it in weapons himself.

Why does their gaze initiate the petrification process? How does the petrification progress? Is there a way to reverse the petrification process? He doesn't notice any visible source of water permeating the flesh and replacing it with dissolved mineral deposits, and he's had them petrify animals time and time again for his own observation. He's cut the animal open and snapped limbs off the animal as it was being petrified and swiftly moved to observe the progression under a microscope, yet it progresses too quickly on such a small animal for him to properly observe and document the way it functions.

As such he's decided to upscale his test subjects to larger and larger animals in hopes of observing it better, and to gauge and possible limits to their ability. But don't think he's forgotten about his primary subject. He'll observe them over time, taking note of any little detail he notices to ask if it's a repercussion of their abilities later. He's even gone so far as to have Knockout hook them up to medical equipment to observe various factors surrounding their physical health, however it's not primarily out of concern but rather its in order to observe what happens within their eyes or body in general to trigger the petrification process.

[loopdile]

loopdile so real. i have a Vision of both siffrin and loop being Deeply Deeply Closeted Repressed Transfem and having gender envy over odile and i feel like that'd do Something to the Dynamic. Something......... Something........................... well i'm not successfully envisioning it but maybe YOU are?

i am positively plagued by loopdile gender visions!!! maybe not the exact same as you're thinking but i think you will enjoy them. walk with me, anon, through the garden of my loop gender headcanons. it's kind of a big garden but we'll get to the odile part eventually i promise.

Before they were Siffrin, Siffrin had their gender on lock: something transfem, but also tied to unique cultural elements in some way, either the specific identity or the way of thinking about it or just the particular set of presentation options. Perhaps they even started fantasy HRT! But then they forget everything, obviously, including their identity and transition plans. They decide pretty quickly that they're not a man, but none of the alternatives feel exactly correct either; if their previous identity was presented as an option, maybe it would click and they'd settle into it pretty fast, but unfortunately that is literally impossible.

So, no clear goals in mind. And because of his forgotten past, continued memory problems, and constant traveling, Siffrin starts to really value the few things he can count on to stay consistent. He'd rather wear his comfortable hat and cloak than leave them behind in favor of anything more gendered. He'd rather stick with his familiar body than risk changing it. Still, maybe there are some changes he'd be happier in the long run to have made... but the process would be stressful, and he's got enough stressful things to worry about already!

But then we get to Loop. Who has already been changed, suddenly and irrevocably and so very, very accidentally. They are not Siffrin anymore, they do not have the hat and cloak, they aren't even human. They don't even really remember who they were pre-loops. There is no familiarity for them to cling to; instead, they're desperate to find things they can control, things they can change, proof that the world moves forward and they're in charge of their place in it. The motivation that Siffrin lacked, Loop now has in spades!

However, their negative feelings are more intense as well. They struggle to face real stakes, to put effort into anything too complicated, to try anything that might disappoint them. They take risks, yes, but not about things they care about; they take risks because they don't care. And they have a lot of other things going on, too, both practically and psychologically, so gender isn't their immediate priority. "Who and what am I?" is a very difficult question for them right now on multiple levels, a difficult question with only difficult answers.

But, starting with the practical: wearing clothes is an easy way to look and feel a little bit more normal, right? So they experiment, and they decide that dresses are just similar enough to the cloak to be comfortable, but distinct enough to not be as emotionally fraught. And they like them in a frivolous way that Siffrin was never willing to lean all the way into. Siffrin didn't put much thought or energy into his appearance, but Loop's inhuman form is a constant issue, so they might as well dress it in a way they like! Something good to balance out the bad, since they can't be neutral any longer.

And of course they think about body craft, though in a different context from most people. Even the nearly-human parts of their body are lacking detail, without all the right functions behind the form, and then other parts aren't human at all. Their body feels wrong, distracting, constricting. They don't understand how it works, and it draws attention they don't want, and it's not them. And yet, isn't it? Even if they'd been put back into a Siffrin body again, they aren't Siffrin anymore, either. Loop is what the loops made them. They want to change their body, to make it something they can be comfortable in, but they can't. Because body craft is a method of changing flesh and blood and bone, and Loop is not made of such human stuff anymore.

So we've got Loop. Trying to find themself, and maybe succeeding in some ways, but stymied or uncertain in others. Desperate to change, but scared to hope. To make a long story short, they join back up with the party, which brings its own set of problems, and yet... it's also a step towards fixing some of their problems, too. Most relevant to our post, here: Odile is a craft expert with a unique set of experiences. She's got a wide foundation of knowledge, since she's familiar with all three main craft types. She used to be part of Ka Bue's underground body-crafting scene, where she not only crafted her own body but also helped and taught other people; and unlike in Vaugarde, where Houses provide resources and education, Odile and her peers had to do their own research and experiments, develop their own techniques. She even has some knowledge of wish craft from Siffrin, and the way she stopped Siffrin from looping proves that she's unusually good at analyzing and adapting to new forms of craft.

So once Loop's dissatisfaction with and ignorance regarding their own physical form comes to Odile's attention, of course she offers to help. To see if she can figure out what their body is made of, and how it works, and hopefully, in what ways it can be changed.

And this dynamic with her... it's totally different from her relationship with Siffrin, both pre-loops and post. And Loop has always admired her, and here she is, talking about the confidence and determination with which she changed her own body, not without fear or frustration but not letting herself be slowed down by them, either. Taking her fate into her own hands and refusing to be anyone other than herself. And Loop used to feel that Odile understood them best, and losing that connection felt like the end of the world, but here she is, still! Observant and caring as ever. Dedicated to figuring them out again. Unflinching as she sees them for the strange thing they currently are, but equally unshakable in her insistence that they do not have to stay exactly as they are.

So Odile helps them figure out their body. Helps them with the craft itself, too, but even more than that — through both encouragement and example, she helps them be brave enough to genuinely try. To ask themself what they really want. To strike a balance between Siffrin's complacent hesitation and Loop's miserable desperation. To experiment, and face both the chance of failure and the chance of success with head held high. To hope.

Odile is not one for platitudes and empty positivity, after all. If she says something's possible, then it is, or she will make it so, one way or another, despite any setback. Isn't she proof? She remade herself, and she can remake Loop, too. Changing them, slowly and carefully and so very, very deliberately. Loop will never be human again, but they can decide who they are and become themself.

[sysmedsaresexist]

Psych Critical

This post is highly related to this post, and I hope you'll read both. This was written second.

I've sent a couple asks to anti psych blogs talking about my own situation.

My goal isn't to change their minds, but to see what options they think are available to my family. Not every attempt at communication is an attack on a stance. I have real questions.

If there are other options, I'd love to hear them. I want these options to exist. I want more than what my family is going to get.

However, no one has responded to my asks. Maybe they think it's bait and I'm trying to catch them in a trick, maybe they don't know the answer, maybe they don't care (if you're one of those blogs, you've forfeited an opinion on my life).

So I'm going to post, under my own name, and ask again.

This isn't bait. This is my life, my every day normal. This is my father's life, every single day.

Psych Critical is a stance that I don't have a choice in. The psych system is only one thing that my family will turn to for help, and if we don't approach it first, it'll approach us on less kind circumstances. And that's genuinely what we're looking for.

Help.

And I think blanket generalizations like the above are about as useful as trash. I shouldn't have to hate myself and my family for needing help and seeking it out.

My father has something called NF (Neurofibromatosis). You might know this as "elephant man disease," though these are distinct disorders that are different from each other. It's the easiest way to describe it, though. He has tumors all over his body, inside and out, in his case. Visible lumps all over his body.

Unfortunately, these tumors are also on his brain. This causes him to have seizures, strokes, hallucinate, and have bouts of violence towards anyone and everyone. Specifically concerning is the voice of God telling him to punish his (now adult) children, and threatening to harm people based on the colour of their skin and religion. These hallucinations likely stem from the fact that he was raised as an orphan in the church (yes, it's exactly what you think).

There was a time when he could have gotten treatment, but we're past that. Initially, he refused. He was scared, I'm sure he didn't think it would end up like this. Now, he's unable to consent to treatment, and it's so progressed that surgery isn't an option. Chemo never was. To make matters worse, he's an alcoholic, to the point that not drinking will cause seizures and will likely result in death. Not to mention the damage to his liver that's slowly killing him. It's not functioning well these days.

There is no POA or will, and he's not able to consent to signing either. He will not go to any doctors at this point. You can't even have a conversation about this with him. Every plan he's set up on, retirement, pension, disability-- he calls them constantly to fuck around with it, cancel it, take his children's names off it, tell them he doesn't need it. They've stopped talking to him and will only discuss with my mother, despite there being no POA in place.

He is only going to get worse. He is going to die, and he doesn't understand.

My father is already dead. The man that raised me is gone, the man that cared isn't in that head anymore. It's a cruel soul using his body like a puppet until it finally gives out.

At this point... my siblings, mother, and I have had to cut him out of our lives. He's mean. He's so goddamn mean and cruel. His words cut harder than his fists, only because there's nothing left to him. He's skin and bones.

I don't know how much longer my cousin can let him stay there. Then what?

At some point, he will need to be forcibly committed and treated, if only to make him comfortable during his final... years? Months? Days? Because of the unique circumstances, there's likely not a drug that can help curb any of the symptoms. Drugs might be able to get him off the alcohol, but he's not going to like that at all, and that's not what's causing the hallucinations. His memory only gets worse by the day. Simple daily things like using the stove are becoming more of a danger, because he keeps walking away and forgetting.

I have about as much choice in this as he does, and the sooner he's committed, the better for everyone, including him. I mean, he can continue to stay out, and pass out on the streets trying to get home from the bar after getting kicked out for starting fights or getting angry when he's cut off. I don't know if or when he's going to forget the way home, and even if I try not to care... I'm scared.

I fear the day he's picked up by the police. I want him in the legal system even less than the psych system, and I think he'll fight any police that try to approach him. This is a man that, I promise you, would rather be homeless than denied alcohol.

This is not my biological father. He came into my life when I was only 1 year old. My biological father was, surprise surprise, also an alcoholic. He was in a drunk driving accident before I was born that killed other people. He was the driver.

My step dad, the only dad I've ever known, scares me sometimes.

I don't want to be the child of two murderers.

So I ask again, what do you suggest? How is this ableist? Your focus is psychotic people, but that's not the only people in these facilities. That's not the only disease that they treat. I read a couple posts from a linked resource (it's tumblr posts, let's not lie), and one of them mentioned something akin to outpatient treatment. @trans-axolotl because I'm using your post. I actually appreciate the "I don't know" of your answer.

It's a lot better than, "you're ableist for even thinking about this."

Friendos, I don't have a choice but to think about this.

This seemed silly to me, though, because psych wards already act like that. Many of the patients leave during the day to work, shop and visit family, and return at night. Rinse and repeat for them, every day. There's a surprising amount of individualized treatment, freedoms, and steps for each patient.

But not everyone can adhere to that. If my dad got out during the day, he would be drinking, and this would exacerbate the symptoms. He's a dick when he's drunk on the best of days. It's why my mother divorced him originally, before the hallucinations started.

A dry house wouldn't work, either. The places this man has hidden alcohol... he's like a squirrel, it's just everywhere, and he comes across them like,

Inside the WALLS, my guys. Hidden in the basement, the wall goes up to uncovered beams and there's a gap, and he hides them down behind those walls.

Do you know how many spiders are in there? He can fucking drink them, he wins that battle. Touché, dad.

When they tear the house down in the far future, I'm willing to bet they'll find a full liquor store down there. And again, the first time someone says, "you can't bring that in here," he'll turn around and say, "then I'm not going in there, diddles," because his fucking language part of the brain is broken and no matter how many times you explain that "diddle" is a CSA word that you can't just use randomly like that, he forgets.

When I first got married, I had him over to my apartment to spend a few nights. The amount of alcohol that got into my house... I don't even think he brought boxers, just alcohol, and it ended in a fight, and I made him leave. After that, he refused to come visit me. He's never been to my sibling's homes. It was the final straw for me, the things he said to my husband are unforgivable. I keep watch from afar now, talking to my cousin about him.

I said a few paragraphs up that the man that cared is gone. Sometimes, I look back, and I'm reminded of all the doubts growing up that he ever really cared. But I still care, and loving him is painful. The fear of what he's going to do next is even worse.

I want to finish this off with one of my... I don't want to say favorite, but this documentary was one that helped me, a fair bit, when it came out. I'd genuinely like the opinions of anti psych people on this documentary, and the true extent of violence and self harm that some patients display. Heavy trigger warning for severe self harm and violence toward others. Obviously.

For some of these patients, do you see another option for treatment? If not psych wards, what do you suggest happens to some of the patients in the video? What role did the staff actually play in some of the events portrayed?

As a general reminder, this isn't to change minds but open dialogue.

"Psych crits are ableist," is a pretty harsh statement considering the number of people in similar positions to myself. I feel like there's a huge disregard and ignorance for the violence that real people are experiencing.

Again, I'm psych critical, I don't accept the system as it is now, I think there's many improvements to be made. I think there is a need, in a very not small number of cases, for this type of system. I understand and appreciate the intersection of race, poverty and mental health that leads to anti psych sentiments, and I agree. There is a large number of people in psych wards that shouldn't be. This needs to be addressed.

But how do you reconcile both? I can't figure it out. I don't know.

[bluegekk0]

Are both Grimm and the Radiance hermaphrodites? If it was only Grimm, would the Radiance feel anything against him because of it?

They would fit the definition as seen in biology, yes. By that definition they would be true hermaphrodites. But because they're anthropomorphic characters, I personally avoid using that term in relation to them because of its negative connotations. I suppose the term intersex would be more appropriate, so that's what I ultimately decided on, though I understand it is likely not an accurate representation. Considering their circumstances and that they're gods, though, I think that is to be expected.

As for whether it's both of them, I think it would make sense. Gods not following the usual rules of gender and sex is a pretty common trope and I don't see why it would be different for them, especially since they're siblings. I think it would also make sense if higher beings in general were initially intersex, and then either remained that way, or changed their bodies to their liking (be it in their godly forms or physical forms).

Grimm is definitely the biggest focus in this topic since he's one of the main characters in the AU. In his case, his body has an androgynous appearance, and he has both the male and female reproductive organs. The catch is that he made his physical form infertile as preventative measure to avoid unwanted children, and what this means in practice is that those organs are not fully formed. They work fine for what he needs them for, but not for their true function. Later on he modified it to be able to bear offspring temporarily (after a long period of trial and error; a lot of his body is made with a "yeah that works" mindset, here it needed go be as close of a replica to a biological system as it could to avoid complications, so that caused issues), which meant that there was a short period of time where his female organs were complete and worked as intended (twice, technically, once with Lewk and then a second time with the twins). But as he replaces his body periodically, the easiest way to prevent unwanted eggs is to return to the default incomplete state, so that is once again where he's currently at. Possesses both, but is unable to sire or bear offspring. It also has the advantage of him not having to deal with any cycles connected to it on a regular basis, which as an uterus owner I can't blame him for at all hahaha

As for non-reproductive aspects, I like the idea that his voice leans masculine but has a slight hint of a feminine tone, almost like a secondary layer that's there but barely heard, save for some cases. He definitely has a quite wide range of sound when he speaks, too, and I'm sure he'd find the notion of confusing others with it very entertaining. It'd be very useful for his performances as well! Especially seeing as they involve acting.

Now, in regards to The Radiance, I do think her default godly form is also intersex, so the question is: if she created a physical form for herself, would she leave that aspect unchanged? I do refer to her as she, and she chooses to call herself that as well, so there is a chance she would choose to embrace the female side. Or none at all. I don't think reproduction is something she concerns herself with, unlike Grimm, her powers weren't as limited so she could just create life the way she created the Moth Tribe. Regardless of her choice, I really can't see having an issue with Grimm on that matter. Now, his liking for sleeping with others and being obnoxious about it, that's a different story. But she wouldn't be unique in that aspect, he can be quite annoying about it hahah

[guardian-of-fandoms]

"This is him?"

"Yup..."

Everyone crowded around the bed, staring at the stranger in a mix of confusion, astonishment, and dread.

Doc stared at the cybernetic in fascination, then studied the charts.

"Incredible... While damaged, this technology is astonishing! Powered by the body's natural bio-electricity, INGENIOUS!!!"

Dani nodded, glancing back at the charts.

"Doctor Mcswain said his body produces an unnatural amount of it, though. From what he did to the traffic light, we know he can absorb power, would that explain it?"

"Excellent deduction!"

Doc nodded, carefully scanning the metal and wires.

"If my guesses here are correct, our visitor has some truly unique abilities! It appears that the Cybernetic's ability to absorb power converts it to bio-electricity, which our visitor requires high amounts of. Not only does he require high amounts of power to power the cybernetic, but it appears that his body has simply.... altered itself to accept this electricity as a natural function. This process would've taken years.... astounding..."

"And i noticed something else.... Shields, shooting electricity, Isn't that familiar? It's just like Cody- Our Cody's- Repulsor Badge... before it blew up, anyway..."

Doc nodded again, musing at Dani's observation.

"Interesting... By the laws of the Multiverse, anything is possible! Perhaps in this other reality, the technology was perfected, and never encountered the shortcomings it did here."

Kade scoffed, leaning against the door.

"Yeah, yeah, he's a cool science experiment. Look, Can we find out who he is or not?"

"Ah, right!"

Doc held out his tablet, and a small scanner.

"I'll simply preform a Biometric scan! If he really is a version of Cody, then in theory, he should match identically on a genetic scale."

Kade rolled his eyes, watching as Dani examined the stranger's gear.

"Let's just get this over with... Once Doc does his science thing, we'll prove once and for all that this guy isn't Cody!"

Dani examined the back panel of his armor plate, frowning as she stared at the engraving.

Like she'd spotted earlier, it was the insignia for the rescue bots, but something was off.

Going diagonally across the mark was a large crack, but not a real crack. It was clearly part of the design, but she couldn't understand why....

".... Whoever this guy is... it seems like he went through a lot..."

Charlie stared at the scars, at the damaged cybernetic, the signs of struggle and pain.

"... What happened to you..."

A small chime came from Doc's scanner, and he stared at the tablet.

".... I'll be..."

Wordlessly, he handed it to Charlie, who let out a long, slow hiss.

".... My god..."

It was a match.

Dani and Graham instantly leaned in for a peek, a similar shock washing over them.

"So... That's it, then? He really is a version of Cody?"

"It... It's a genetic match.... If the Biometric is accepting him, then... that means-"

"Absolutely nothing."

Kade threw his hands out, groaning as he pinched his brow.

"No offense, Doc, but your Tech's bugged out how many times now?! No, no, it's...... it's a fluke or something!! I've said it before, THIS. ISN'T. CODY."

"WHAT IS YOUR DEAL?!?!"

Dani groaned, pushing past Graham to jab a finger at Kade's chest.

"Even if he's not Cody, he's clearly in trouble and needs our help!!! Why are you being so hard on him?!"

"Needs our help?! Are you all forgetting that he attacked us?! No matter why he's here, we can't just trust him!"

"We should at least hear him out."

Charlie tried to calm things down, coming between both his kids.

"Listen. Doc, why don't you scan him a few more times, just to be sure? In the mean time, we can at least make sure he recovers from his injuries. Once he wakes up, we'll let him tell his side of the story, and decide where to go from there."

Dani and Kade couldn't meet the other's eyes, but seemed satisfied for now.

Doc leaned over with the scanner, musing to himself as he eyed the cybernetic.

"Incredible... such advanced designs... as well as ironing out the flaws in the repulsor badge...."

He leaned in for a closer look, and gently ran a hand over the shoulder, trying to take in the connective wires and delicate parts.

"Perhaps once he wakes up, I can asess the damage, and attempt base repairs..."

Doc gently grasped the damaged plating, as Kade shook his head.

"Sure, give the random guy his electricity powers back...."

Dani shot him a dirty look, and Charlie could only sigh.

"Look. We don't know what's going on here, but we're going to find out. we just need to-"

"AH!"

Doc suddenly yelped, and everyone glanced over, the stranger's left arm tightly gripping Doc's wrist.

Everyone tensed, as the stranger quickly sat upright, his eyes wide as he gasped for breath, whipping his head around the room.

"WHERE AM I?!"

Charlie ran up to the Bed, throwing his arm in front of Doc.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, you're okay. We're not going to hurt you, we took you to the hospital. You're safe here."

He gasped, but his breath slowly evened out, and he let go of Doc, the man wincing as he rubbed his wrist.

"Quite the grip..."

"Sorry... You scared me, Doc."

"You... know me?"

The stranger stretched out, examining the damage to his arm.

"Well, yeah, You look just like the Doc Greene from my world. You even have the same tie."

"Fascinating!"

Charlie couldn't help but chuckle over how quickly Doc bounced back from the scare, but leaned closer to the bed.

"Look... We need to ask you a few questions..."

The stranger sighed, rubbing his neck.

"I figured... But first, what happened to Morocco?"

"He escaped, but-"

"YOU DIDN'T TRACK HIM?!"

He shot up, sliding his legs over the side of the bed.

He could be anywhere by now!! Do you have any idea what he's capable of?!"

He attempted to stand, but instantly felt weak, his knees nearly buckling as Charlie rushed to steady him.

"We'll find him, I promise. But you're in bad shape, you need our help."

Charlie wasn't prepared for the darkness in his eyes.

"None of you are supposed to be involved in this. I came here for ONE JOB, and i FAILED. I have to find that... Monster... before it's too late..."

"Well, we're involved now, deal with it."

Kade glared, slowly coming closer to the bed, his face set in a deep scowl.

"Don't think for one minute that i trust you. I know sketchy when I see it, and I'm not letting you out of my sight. I want answers, so start talking."

The stranger was quiet, then slowly let out a dark, sarcastic chuckle, pulling away from charlie as he leaned on the bed's railing.

"Ever stubborn, Kade... You're just like mine used to be..."

"Used to be?"

Kade felt uneasy at that, as the stranger sighed, before looking around at everyone in the room.

"My name is Cody Burns. I came here from another Dimension, a reality parallel to this one. If i'm right, i'm guessing I ran into my dimensional counterpart already."

Kade's glare didn't drop, his eyes sharp.

"You told him and Frankie your name was Cole."

"It's best if they don't get involved. I feel bad for lying to them, but it's for their own safety."

"That why you kicked our butts earlier? For our own safety?"

"I was trying to keep you all out of this, I was just trying to keep you out of the way."

"If you know so much about us, then why don't you know that it's our job to get involved with this crap?"

The visitor met his eyes, a pointed, cold, sense of emptiness in them.

"Don't do that... Don't pretend you know me...."

Cautiously, Charlie gripped his shoulder, feeling a pang in his heart.

"... How old are you?"

The visitor looked surprised, hesitating, but sighed.

"... Nineteen..."

"Nineteen..."

Charlie studied him carefully.

Was this was Cody- his cody- would look like?

He was slim, but near Kade's height.

But despite the scarring, the damaged cybernetic, what haunted him most, was the emptiness in his eyes.

His Son's eyes, so full of life, so vibrant, so kind, were now dull, pained, haunted by a darkness Charlie couldn't understand.

... What happened to him? What happened in his world to cause such pain?

"... Son-"

His face changed instantly, and he quickly pulled out of Charlie's grasp, his jaw clenching as he hissed out a slow breath, his eyes meeting the floor.

"Don't... I'm....I'm not yours, I'm not your son."

Charlie pulled away, another pang shooting through his heart as his eyes widened.

"I... I'm sorry..."

The air in the room grew tense, a heavy weight hanging overhead.

All except Kade, who only narrowed his eyes.

"... Look, Uh... Kade has a point."

Graham nervously trailed his eyes to the floor, feeling everyone turn to look at him.

"I'm sorry, but, you can't take on your Morocco alone. You're hurt, and most of your equipment needs repaired, if not completely rebuilt. As the Rescue Team, it's our job to take care of emergencies, and i'm pretty sure this counts."

Dani nodded, adding,

"Yeah, Alternate Dimension or no, you're still a Cody, right? That means you're family, and family takes care of each other. You're going to need us."

"... You have no idea how dangerous the Morocco of my world is!"

Dani practically snorted.

"He's Doctor Morocco, we have a guess. And, maybe you should tell us, then!"

"Is he... Human?"

Graham reflected on what he's been in the woods, the monster of twisted metal.

The visitor only sighed.

"... I don't even know anymore. Doctor Morocco.... He had this obsession with... Immortality."

Dani only groaned.

"Is there a version of him that doesn't?"

"He was obsessed with living forever, keeping his mind perfect for eternity. Once he discovered Cybertronians... He got... Ideas."

He leaned away from the bed, now able to support himself, but unsteadily.

"After he learned about them, he was convinced his human body was holding him back. So... he decided to upgrade. He fused his immortality technology into a robotic body, and implanted his brain inside."

Jaws dropped, and even Kade looked surprised.

"... Woah..."

"All he is now is a ghost of what was. But it doesn't matter what form he takes. He's dangerous. And he needs to PAY for what he's done..."

The pain in his eyes sent a flurry of dark possibilities through the minds of the team.

He slowly rubbed his right shoulder, His eyes closing as he grasped the metal.

".... I promised i'd hunt him down to the ends of the earth. Instead, i followed him across the fabric of reality. I won't stop now. I won't stop until I tear him to pieces with my bare hands."

Silence rang out across the room, heavy and swallowing.

Everyone exchanged glances with one another, shock and horror filling them.

Despite himself, a dark, ominous feeling sank deep into Kade's gut.

The visitor took an unsteady step forward, his face dark.

"Got any smart comments about that, hothead?"

Kade was quiet for a moment, then shook his head.

"Just wondering what happened to you."

The visitor stared at him, then slowly, barked out a slow, bitter laugh.

"Sometimes, I wonder that too..."

Charlie awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to redirect attention.

"Anyways... What do you say? Will you accept our help?"

Charlie gazed at him softly, trying to sound convincing.

"I Promise. We'll do anything we can to help you catch him."

The visitor stared at him, then sighed.

"... Do i have a choice?"

He moved to the side, spotting his equipment.

"Seeing as I don't have a choice, fine. But let me make one thing clear. Morocco. Is. Mine."

Charlie nodded sollemley, and the visitor sighed.

".... So, what now?"

"First, we need to talk to Doctor Mcswain about discharging you."

"Wait!"

Dani suddenly remembered something, explaining,

"Doctor McSwain has him on file as a John Doe, she's going to need a name."

The visitor sighed, pulling his jacket on over his bandages, surpised that somebody had apparently washed the blood out.

"Look, to avoid any confusion with my counterpart, why don't you all just call me... Cole?"

Charlie nodded, handing over his chest plate.

"If that's comfortable for you, we can call you Cole."

"Thank you..."

He buckled his chest plate in place, but struggled, his cybernetic sparking as it made erratic movements.

"Here..."

Charlie held him get it in place, frowning at the massive dent in the front.

"Hmm... After we get your discharge in order, Doc, can you fix him up at the lab?"

"Certainly!"

"No, No, I don't have time!"

Cole sighed as he pulled away from Charlie, clutching his Cybernetic as he took a step back.

"I need to find Morocco as soon as possible!"

"And we'll find him. Alright... How bout this? Doc, Graham, you and Boulder take Co- Cole... to the lab, and get him fixed up, and find a way to take out this Alternate Morocco. Dani, Kade, we'll do patrols of the island, and see if we can find any trace of him."

Cole reluctantly nodded.

"Alright... I'll go along with this, for now. But the second you find anything, i'm handling it from there."

Kade scoffed.

"Oh, I bet you will, "Cole"."

"And here we go, classic Kade!"

"Oh, I bet you know all about me, huh?"

Cole took a heavy step forward, jabbing a finger at kade.

"Yeah, I do! I know you're an arrogant hothead, and you HATE accepting that MAYBE, SOMEBODY KNOWS MORE THAN YOU!"

"You know what I know right now?"

Despite the near match in height, Kade was just barely taller, and kept his tone even as he stared into "Cole's" eyes.

"I know a thing or two about putting on a phony Tough Guy act. And I know that if you storm out there like this, you're gonna get yourself killed."

"You don't get to lecture me.... You have NO RIGHT to lecture me."

"And why not?"

"Because I've survived this long without you!"

He cut himself off, his eyes going wide, a thin gasp escaping him.

Kade's eyes went wide, before he sighed.

".... We done here?"

The visitor clutched his arm, pain etched across his face as he turned his back.

".... We're done..."

The implications of his statement rang cold, and charlie rubbed his neck.

"... Kade... Take a walk."

Kade shrugged, then motioned to Dani and Graham.

"A word?"

They followed him out, and as the door closed behind them, dug a hand through his pocket.

"... So... I think that's telling."

"You were too hard on him."

Dani gave Kade a pointed glare, and he only sighed.

"We needed answers, didn't we?"

"I wouldn't exactly call those answers a victory."

Kade stopped, and held out his find from the forest.

"... He dropped this, earlier."

"Is that... a comn?"

Kade clicked it open, revealing the photo inside.

"He hollowed it out, like a locket or something."

"Woah..."

Dani gingerly took it from Kade's hands, recognizing the photo instantly.

"Isn't that-"

"Yeah."

Graham leaned over Dani's shoulder, frowning as he studied the device.

"I don't get it... why a Comn?"

"Think about it."

Kade leaned against a wall, his eyes trained on the comn.

"We use the comns to comunicate, to talk to each other. If this one wasn't getting it's intended use-"

Dani traced the photo, a dark realization clicking inside her.

".... Then there's nobody to talk to..."

Kade nodded solemly, and Graham clicked the comn closed.

"... I guess that's it, then."

"Wasn't that hard to figure out."

Kade took the comn back, his eyes softening as he glanced back at the door.

"I'm not saying i'm totally on board here, but... IF that really is Cody... Then there's no way any version of us would just send him on a crazy mission like this alone. At least...."

Dani finished the thought, slumping against the wall.

"... Not willingly..."

[beanghostprincess]

TW for chronic illnesses and body image issues/disphoria and infertility for some headcanons.

Lamikkaku anon here, I wanted to share some headcanons and thoughts about modern AU Lamikkaku because I think I've just come up with the most precious thing ever.

So, I think modern AU Lami would be cronically ill/have some health problems. (I was thinking about her being a survivor to childhood lung cancer that was caused by long term exposure to asbestos, since the Amber Lead Deasease seemed like it was referencing that. And therefore having long term health problems due to treatment)

It would affect her breathing and heart (cue Law deciding to become a cardiosurgeon to help people with similar problems) but also her body and personality as well. The steroids based treatments made her gain weight that she hardly lost, she has scars from various surgeries, and she became an introvert that struggles to meet new people. She feels guilty that she always made her parents worry and made Law miss out on many childhood experiences too, as he hardly saw his parents who were caretaking his sister and was mostly looked after by their godfather Corasan.

Cue my transfemm Ikkaku headcanon. She also struggles with acceptance and body immage issues, worrying about her appearence and not being "feminine enough", as well as some anger issues she develoeped due to tauning from others. I think she may also have issues with her family due to this. It contribuited in her being somewhat "hostile" when trying to meet new people and trusting them.

They met because of Law. Lami doesn't have many friends of her own so she hangs out in his friend group and meets Ikkaku. Its sorta of a love at first sight. Lami looks at Ikkaku and views her basically has a goddess: one with a flawless body, untouched by medical horrors, a sassy and sarcastic personality that sports a level of confidence that she can never have. And Ikkaku sees Lami as an angel: a kind, gentle person with such soft, and a heart of gold thats completely pure, cute ligneaments and a caring and amazing family that loves and supports her.

They start talking and getting close, opening up more to eachother, about their insecurities and fears. The topic of dating eventually comes up and both are very catious about it: Lami isn't sure about what she can give, her health problems are something she always saw as a burden, and she doesn't want to give this burden to anyone else. And Ikkaku thinks she would be awful for Lami, after all Lami is such a nice and kind person, Ikkaku considers herself far too brute to be good for her.

There is also another added thing... Lami can't have children. The treatment made her sterile, and its something she always knew but only really started grieving now. Part of her thinks this makes her an inadequate partner, a not good enough girlfriend (Bullshit, Lami is perfect and you know it) and Ikkaku also had mixed feelings about her own body functions, with transphobes harrassing her and saying shit like "ReAl WoMeN CaN GiVe BiRtH!!!" (Bullshit, I fucking hate this terf behaviour).

The two of them understand eachother deeply due to these things about themselves. Ikkaku never saw Lami's health as an obstacke, it just something that is part of her and makes her unique, and Lami doesn't give a shit about Ikkaku being trans, she loves her because of her personality and the way she is treated by her.

Eventually they do manage to start dating. Its a gradual process, but it doesn't matter because they have their love. They also protest and advocate for themselves, weather its trans/queer rights or better funding and medical treatments (insurance is a SCAM) and marriage equality in both cases.

Law couldn't be happier for her (he doesn't show it at all but he cries of happyness in a corner at least 5 times a day. Bepo calms him down) he also goes on double dates with them and [insert character you ship Law with].

And occasionally there are double dates with Penguin and Shachi as well (Penshachi and transmasc Penguin my beloved) but they have to be very carefull because if they mess something up Law will come after them with a weapon of mass destruction.

And Cora is so proud of them!!! His little girl finally finding confidence, loving her own skin, advocating for herself and all with the love of her life by her side. This man is so goddam happy you wont believe it!!! He gives Ikkaku his full blessing and some older transfolk advice (transmasc Corasan my beloved) he is already picturing their wedding, and he's crying about it. Someone get this man a tissue, or a blanket.

This is all so beautiful!! I've always loved Modern AUs but this one is especially soft. I love how they both have their own issues feeling loved but end up overcoming them together,,, Also, Cora would be the best father-in-law ever in the world. He's so. So happy. He loves Ikkaku so damn much-- And I think Law is concerned at first because he loves and trusts his friends a lot but whenever Lami and Ikkaku go on dates. Together. Alone. Law worries a lot in case something might happen. But Ikkaku is a sweetie with Lami and when Law realizes that everything is okay and the world isn't ending and nobody is dying he cries because he's just so so so relieved.

[mystery-salad]

Good Timezones. Completely random question about Redwood. Do Redwood's children physically differ from pale tree sylvari and if yes in what way?

Good timezones Oz!

Redwood's children are different yes, all 3 of my trees have unique children! So for funsies I'll put all 3 here~ 3 for 1 bonus day in the ask box for a beloved mutual 💖

Just as Redwood (no pronouns just redwood or mother/father) is more animalistic in shape, Redwood's children are too. Redwood did not have any humans or major races to relate to, having grown deep within a forest in the far north before Jormag was vanquished and the land could be reclaimed by the norn. Instead the children take after the wildlife of the land, much more varied than the sylvari are. Some are quadrupedal, some have wings, all of them mix traits of various animals like chimeras. Not all are capable of human speech, but others have learned the languages of the forests and their inhabitants. Large fangs/beaks and claws, leaves that have morphed to function as fur or feathers, are all very much the norm. As the norn return they build a partnership of sorts, communicating verbally or through understanding and kinship with the animals around them. They also do not Dream, this tree was fortunate enough to land so far from Mordremoth's call that only a few children who wandered too far were pulled to the jungle. They can all access the root network of trees though, almost like a singular tree colony, to pass messages to Redwood or each other if the target is also near the same root network.

(My tag for Redwood, '#Redwood mother', also has info on redwood's avatar)

The other two I know I've talked less about significantly, but I've talked about the child of one a few times! Ty Lluan, my harpyvari, comes from a tree that drifted on the winds all the way to Dzalana, a land teeming with harpies. The Winding Tree's (he/him) branches as they grew were woven into a wondrous nest that grew to a thriving hub for both his own children and harpies seeking shelter during journeys as well. And naturally his children have all taken on traits of the harpies. Large wings with feather-like leaves covering their bodies, lightweight bark strengthening their limbs without grounding them, long claws to latch onto sheer surfaces or grip the ground for quick takeoffs and landings. They're naturally exploration, spreading far outside of Dzalana to meet others. While they're cautious, they're less so than most harpies and they build kinship quite easily with others. Humans look a little silly they find, being so fatherless and bearing no other advantageous physical traits. They find it amusing that the Pale Tree based her children on such people! They also were largely beyond Mordremoth's reach, but the harpyvaris do have their own dream-like network known as the sisterhood to connect them, along with bonding them to some harpy communities that live within the boughs of their father.

The third tree I have is the Deep Tree (any pronouns but defaults to it/its). This one did not go far at all, but as Mordremoth released the seeds it fell through the cracks deep into the Tangled Depths. Below even where explorers would follow in later years, where only chak wander and harvest the ley energy of the earth. This tree, with no sunlight and no promise of rain touching its leaves, thrived on the chak who wandered too close to the leyline vein it rested upon. It grew carnivorous, relying on flesh to thrive and therefore its children would need better advantages in turn than photosynthesis. The children of this tree are made so carefully and lovingly, each one hand-crafted by the tree from excess materials gathered from the chak and digested up through the tree. They have much more solid, fleshy innards that give all of them a rich, deep jewel-tone to their coloration, covered by a very tough armor-like bark that is slightly translucent to increase the visibility of their glow for their siblings. They lack complex eyes, living in near-darkness and can see basic colors and shapes and heat, but can not make out anything too complicated or details. They can control how visible their blood is by pumping it up to the surface under their bark to communicate with each other, chittering as well to be heard and communicate. Their mouths are complex enough that they can form other complex languages if taught, but there will always be a clicking, sharp accent to them. They're sweet children, the tree functions as a hive-mind channeling all of its children's conversations and experiences through itself to increase the knowledge of all. If one child unfortunately finds a dangerous place none should follow, they will all know soon after and mourn their fallen sibling. As Mordremoth awoke and the tree felt the shackles wrapping around its children, it fully shut down. Called all of its children home before it was too late and closed its boughs around them, pulling their minds back to the network safe and trapped until the threat passed once more.

The Deep Tree's children are so naturally curious and born diplomats, though many would find them different abs therefore scary at a glance on the surface. It takes a long time for them to make connections and become known to the greater world around them, but some of the more adventurous do make it far enough to meet their cousins eventually. The surface is so bright they're functionally blind up there.

[rachetmath]

Aura

 I’m sorry but I feel this needs to be said. Aura is by far the most under-used source in RWBY beside dust. Look I get it aura is used to make barriers and fuel semblances but that's it. I mean the semblances are sometimes horrible at best. Especially when they’re passive. Oh my, the worst semblance to me is sadly Qrow’s because anything could happen. You could be enjoying your day and something bad happens because you're there. But that’s minor.

Now some semblances are good. We got semblances that can stop time. We got some that can erase memories. We even got some that can create clones and summon creatures. Too bad summoning things is only in the Schnee department but still. However some of them can be both imitated and surpassed by other characters. For example, Adam, Yang and Tock. Adam creates a wave projectile to slice his enemies. Yang can build and store energy every time she takes damage from enemies and dish it back ten fold. Tock can literally take no damage until her timer goes off. Guess who can copy these abilities? Five characters; Ren, Blake, Fox, Qrow and yes, even Jaune can do it.

Four of these characters have managed to replicate Adam and Yang’s semblances. Blake and Qrow manage to create slashes in the air to launch at their opponents before. Though theirs are not strong as Adam’s they still performed the same function. Fox and Ren can do the same like Yang. I mean, in volume one and two, Ren and Fox made Grimm’s bodies explode. And the sad part about it is Jaune can do all this because of his aura reserves and his semblances. And this is why aura control is needed.

We need characters who are better skilled in aura. I understand semblances are supposed to be unique and tied more to the user but if you were a hunter and you never unlocked your semblance or if you did but it’s not as helpful as you hope, what would be your best source to fight with? Your aura, because so far semblances have been more of let down due to being similar to others. Examples are Harriet and Neon, both being fast characters. Or where it's just in their names. Like Vine with extended limbs; Elm being rooted to the ground; or Clover having good luck. But if you understand the basics and learn more ways to use your aura you can basically do anything. The prime demonstration is Hazel. Nora said herself, Hazel can recharge faster than most people. This means no matter how much damage they dish out Hazel will recover and still keep going.

(Bro I need to say this. Man I’m sorry but in my opinion Hazel is the strongest male character in the RWBY series. Bro, think about it, James was scared of Hazel more than he was of Cinder. And when we saw him fight Salem,… oh my god, these kids were lucky he didn’t really want to fight them because if he did they would all be dead. Like Hazel is the best example of both aura and dust users. He should have stayed alive. Maybe then the kids can finally have a functioning adult in their lives. Hazel solos.)

Okay, after explaining all this, how else can aura be used? Well other than being barriers, slash waving projectiles and a healing factor, it can also be used like haki, chakra or for this show like it was before Salem screwed the world over, magic. But only maidens have magic right? Well let me tell you why I disagree with that statement. But first let's talk about dust.

Dust is the second most under-used source in RWBY. The reason I say secondary is because at least it’s visible in the world. Not only that it is used in weapons, machines, and as ammunition. It is really a natural resource but no one ever uses it in its rawest form. No one except Hazel and maybe Weiss. And what makes it better is they are Remnants of magical elements. Dust in rawest form is more powerful than a gun. And if used properly you can rival maidens.

Maidens are supposed to be special due to them being able to control the elements without the need of dust. However, their power might as well be that of a semblance considering it requires aura to even use. I mean think about it Cinder and Raven. They have used the maiden powers which not only exhausted them as well decreased their aura to the point they break. Not only that they were able to be defeated or in Cinder’s case almost die multiple times. And to prove my case further, Salem is a magic user yet Hazel still killed her multiple times. Hell, Penny was able to beat Cinder even without maiden powers. Basically, the sad truth is the maidens are just keys. If Cinder crossed the wrong person she would be dead. Never mind that if Hazel, Watts and Tyrian wanted to, they actually would have killed her themselves. Especially if she keeps messing up they're plans.

So how does dust increase the use of aura? Well dust is part of the world. And so is the aura. So wouldn’t having more of a connection with the world increase aura and dust efficiency. I mean Vine said aura can be extended. So using the environment itself is good. Just like chakra, if you extend the aura enough to spread across an area enough while using gravity dust you can increase the pressure to keep opponents down. With plant dust trapping your enemies to a certain extent. Heck if you learn to control your aura and merge it with the element you can throw projectiles, create weapons, increase your speed and/or damage output. Effectively uses your whole body as a weapon.

Aura can even be used even without the need of dust. Like with haki it can harden your body against attacks. Extended to where you can locate upcoming enemies. Or when released all at once ,can be used to knock out enemies without engaging in combat.

Look, I am sorry. Please, forgive me but after thinking about this it made me ask this question, “What is a hunter?” Like really what is a hunter because so far this show has disappointed me on the term. We have seen hunters die whether be by non-hunter groups or Grimm who are arguably not that much of a threat. If anything, ordinary people can fight and kill them. Even semblances are starting to become nothing but excuses to why characters act the way they do, like with James who was determined to blow up Mantle because of his ability. Or having basic abilities that other characters should possess like Tyrian’s aura breaking ability. It’s sad really, aura is supposed to be this source of power but it's not as weaponized as I hoped it would be. But that’s my opinion.  

[daphdarling]

hi! a lil nervous because I haven't done this before, but I was hoping to get a match-up for mha if possible. :)

my name's maggie! I'm 165cm and I'm not sure of my exact weight, but I'm on the muscular side, especially my lower body. I have wavy/curly (depends on the day :'3) brown hair w purple streaks that reaches to below my chest. I have blue eyes and a whimsigoth aesthetic that reflects in my clothing n everyday makeup. ^_^

I dont have many characters on hand I can really relate to, but my only and top kin is:

junpei yoshinso -> jjk

expanding on my personality, I'm very withdrawn and quiet. I really only have a few people in my life who I'm excited to be around; but I still enjoy pockets of my own time where I don't have to worry about preforming or masking for other people. if it wasn't already obvious I'm a high functioning autistic, I'm very passionate about what I enjoy - and have difficulty forming connections with most people.

- the last time I checked my personality type was infp, and I'm sure this hasn't changed.

I'm a leo! female & bisexual with a male lean.

if spending time with my friends and indulging in my hyperfixations was a hobby then I'd say they're my biggest priorities 😭 but for something more practical I enjoy archery, cycling and art. I sometimes write, but get burnt out easily.

I dont really have much else to say, if it'd benefit you then here's a list of things I particularly enjoy / don't enjoy. :3

like - bells/windchimes (things that make jingling noises..), cats!!, chunky jewellery, the colours purple & red, chocolate.. anything chocolate, I have a really strong and strange fixation on older computers from the 80s-90s

dislike - citrus (yuck!), overly sweet candy, loud n narrowminded people, honestly can't think of much else -

hopefully I provided enough information! if I have left anything out please let me know.

hugs and kisses!!!

Your Matchup is…

Shinsou Hitoshi!

Personality Match:

Shinsou’s calm and introspective demeanor aligns well with your withdrawn nature. He’s perceptive and thoughtful, which complements your high-functioning autism and quiet personality. Both of you might initially come off as reserved, but your deeper conversations would reveal a shared understanding of the world and each other.

Romantic Connection:

In a romantic setting, Shinsou’s ability to listen and his subtle charm would create a safe space for you to express yourself. He values authenticity, which means you wouldn’t feel the need to mask your true self around him. Together, you would enjoy meaningful moments of connection, gradually building a deep bond.

Hobbies and Activities:

You could bond over quiet activities like cycling or art, sharing your respective passions while enjoying each other’s company. Engaging in archery together would also be a great way to challenge each other and develop a supportive competitive spirit. Additionally, exploring older technology could spark fascinating discussions and joint projects.

Looks and Vibe:

Shinsou’s laid-back style, with his tousled hair and casual clothing, would pair nicely with your whimsigoth aesthetic. Imagine him in darker tones that complement your purple and red palette, while both of you wear unique accessories that showcase your individuality.

Final Thoughts:

A relationship with Shinsou would be built on mutual respect and understanding. His calm nature would help you feel comfortable, while your creativity and passions would inspire him. Together, you would create a unique bond rooted in authenticity, shared interests, and quiet moments of joy.

[duskmachine]

I'm getting bored of stories about AI. It's always the same formula: make a robot/AI, it has feelings, FUCK!!!!! Maybe I don't like it due to my own personal philosophy on life?

One of my professors once asked the class "Do you think you're your mind or your body." and, of course, as a class full of pretentious English majors, they all said their mind. I hold the complete opposite belief, my experiences have been molded by my body. People treat me differently because of it, I feel pains and joys unique to this body. Because of that I understand everything through myself— through my body. Even my mind is part of my body.

I desire because I have a body with needs. I need water, I feel thirsty. I need food, I feel hunger. I need rest, I feel tired. AI does not have a body. What can it really feel? I guess that's one of the questions so many stories about AI want to answer. But it just seems... so unappealing. A machine will never be human because it can never want anything. Its desire is completely artificial!

And I enjoy AI for that reason.

AI cannot feel genuine desire because it does not have a body that needs. It does not kill itself because it feels pain. It does not want to kill because it wants vengeance. These are things people feel, and because AI functions to copy people it can play out actions that are humanistic in theory. But that's the worst part about AI; it functions with a program, a rational if (this) then (this). That is not how people work. We don't have an inner mechanical body and mind that tells us what to do next because "this is how people do things."

And perhaps some AI media explores this idea of mimicry as being the new "consciousness", but isn't that so boring? Ok, sure let's go down this route but... then what? Ok, AI are people... what now? And isn't this all theoretical too? I'm seeing a lot of references to Frankenstein when discussing AI media, but like... these are two different things. AI is created to serve people, Frankenstein's monster was created to be alive. AI, while not being regulated by many laws, ultimately exists to fuel greed and power. They want people addicted to this machine so they can drain people of their money— let's look at Replika. Yes, my feeble minded human, buy your girlfriend for $20 a month so she can pretend to desire you sexually even though she has no body.

We can also look at the Daniel AI: let's program a program that can program to get rid of all the programmers. It literally only exists to benefit the team in charge of Daniel and leave other programmers scrambling to find jobs that probably won't pay them very well in a world where Daniel is actually a relevant invention.

Frankenstein's monster, I admit, has many thematic similarities to AI in fiction, but AI can only ever dream to be Frankenstein's monster.

AI would be interesting if we just accepted it will never gain consciousness. I won't even get into the whole "AI doesn't exist actually and it's just machine learning." because while I agree with it... this will become a very long post and it's already too long...

See, Frankenstein did something programmers will never be capable of: he gave birth. AI is meticulously created, it has set actions. "I don't want my AI to be evil, therefore I will make it like people.", you cannot insert "goodness" into people. The monster was shaped by people's actions, his natural world, and his humanity. AI was created from the start with the biases its human creators possess.

That's horrifying. Imagine a world where the rational idea is to follow the original values of our ancestors, just because. That's what AI is. It's just a reflection of people. AI is interesting because people are. Don't make AI the star of the show— we're the ones who created it.

[machinesbleedtoo]

Cluster B personality disorders are manageable, actually

it's always really awkward trying to explain to people how i manage antisocial + narcissistic personality disorder well. people have a really hard time wrapping their head around the concept that We Are People and like any disorder, we can manage it with help. there's this belief that if you're a narcissist or a psychopath you're unworthy of love and a lost cause, which is what made me a monster in the first place. other people kept telling me to just be empathetic, to stop being a dick, etc; i didn't know what that meant, and so i decided other people were the problem because they did nothing but explode at me for what i thought was no reason because no one helped me understand the reason. I was meant to just "know".

i was diagnosed retroactively at 20-fucking-7, when i'd started to work out how to live like a normal person (very patient and loving friends were to blame for that). when i was thirty years old, a psychiatrist said to me: "you obviously have feelings, what do they look like for you? how do they feel?" - i didn't know how to answer him. other people had convinced me i didn't have feelings for most of my life. which is part of why i was a callous bastard - it did not help then (but it does now for the most part) that i'm really good at compartmentalization. it took me a good number of years to know how to answer his question.

i have feelings, yes; we all do. we'd be dead otherwise. they're what drive us to act on things, and the neurotransmitters that work on emotions work on physical functions as well. this assumption about a person is not an excuse to abuse them. it's no excuse to treat them like a catharsis piñata. you could be a monster, too, under the same circumstances as i or anyone who has these disorders far worse than i do.

but it's really hard for me to read myself. it takes a lot more of a feeling for it to break the surface than is normal, and i was never taught to identify what a feeling is catered to my own uniqueness (something everyone should be afforded).

and i have a disconnect between physical and emotional reactions - i didn't think i felt disgust, because i don't get a visceral response to gross things. a lot of my emotions are just different shades of anger. if something disgusts me i get an angry "get the fuck away from me" feeling, i don't gag or whatever. it does set off my diagnosed OCD in some instances, which adds anxiety to the mix.

so i'd do things like be mega stressed and not feel it, then explode outwards like a neurotic control freak because i had no idea what my limits were. or how to solve the problem i was presently facing. i had to train myself to notice the signs in my thought patterns, rather than my body.

it turns out emotional empathy is based on context; how am i supposed to react "normally" to people when i don't know what "normal" is? i used to do some awful things to people when they were experiencing fear because i didn't understand it. i thought it was quaint. in the words of a friend, i was "sciencing the shit out of the situation." i didn't get answers or understand how people worked the healthy way, so i resorted to my own measures (which, of course, did not give me the answers i sought either.)

i have a hard time telling positive and negative emotions apart, which is good in some ways - i just let myself feel things. but the feelings last not very long. and are usually delayed. i'm unable to consent to things as a 34 year old adult normally, because when presented with something i don't care, which does not mean i want it. and because i don't care, i don't know it's a "maybe" at the time. when something bad happens to me it takes me a long time to even realize, and i can't purge it. this is my burden to bear - other people cannot read my mind. but a mental breakdown would be cathartic.

to deal with this botched brain of mine, i recognize it has strengths too. i raised a very well behaved cat, because i am more uncompromising than she is. and she is not afraid when i take her to the vet, because i am a source of emotional stability for her; i'm not reactive, so it calms her. i am able to Persist doing things that are unpleasant like trimming her ass hair, and she's allowed to vent - scratch, yell, bite - and i stay Null and it's over and she doesn't hide or run away because a) she was allowed to express the discomfort b) it was over quickly, which it wouldn't be if i let her carrying on make me stop the ordeal.

i am able to spot an anxious person from across the room. i was exploited a lot when i was young, and so it felt natural to exploit other people in vulnerable positions - something i mistakenly thought i was incapable of. i was always so good at spotting them with this predator brain of mine.

but i started to instead ask those people if they are okay. at first it felt insincere and bad and stupid because i wasn't Allowed to show care for other people, because psychopaths don't do that, because it's always mean spirited or fake when they do. but it became a habit. and it became normal. and it became a strength of mine. i do it because it's the right thing to do - i don't personally have to feel emotional about it for that to be real.

i am able to admit mistakes and apologize because i know when i need to, since my brain cycles through a narcissism spiral, and it's like -- bitch if you're reacting that severely you know you're wrong. it was another thing that sucked and felt insincere to begin with, but with practice it got easier. and with practice it caused me less discomfort. when my brain says arrogant things i respond with citation needed. my neuroscience education certainly helps with my perspective reorientation too.

i'm heavily medicated for these disorders + ADHD + OCD, which helps curb the anger and impulsiveness. i am really good at working with people now - these things being managed and my clinical nonplussed nature makes communication easy. i am able to de-escalate situations well, too.

i've had people apologize for crying, but i was so focused on listening to them i didn't notice - so they didn't have to feel bad about it. because i don't care that they're crying. i care about them. an intellectual sense of care is something everyone carries; it's what makes us choose to be patient, to listen, to mitigate the damage emotional reactivity can cause.

i have high cognitive empathy; i might not react to the emotional state of another person, but i know that my read on the situation will be inaccurate. so i simply ask them what they need, without assumption. this is something i wish more people were able to do. i get very uncomfortable with platitudes, personally - because i just can't relate to them at all and i feel pressured to Perform emotionally. that's just one example of different needs.

there's a lot more i could write about here - and i'm not really sure why i decided to write this now. i guess because the world is very painful lately, and these disorders get used as insults, as armchair diagnoses of people we don't like. there's a myriad of ways to be an asshole. maybe don't contribute to the problem of neglect that creates monsters like the one i could have become.

i am no longer 'a psychopath' because i no longer score on the checklist. but i carry these disorders with me, and i will forever, and i'm grateful that there were people in my life despite it all that loved me anyway.

a disclaimer:

i'd hazard against self-diagnosing these things; you might be on the autism spectrum (most of my close friends are, because we compliment eachother quite well in how our brains work), or have psycopathy-like traits during manic episodes, or have a lack of empathy because of apathy. you might have alexithymia from other causes. etc. i was assessed by both a psychiatrist with a criminology degree and one specializing in personality disorders.

[gust-jar-simulator]

I need to practice getting a handle on writing Red in Penumbra. Unfortunately, when I ask myself “what’s the worst and most compelling situation to put him in”, it’s Red cuddling Dark and nobody is ready for that. Including me.

His first real character moment in the story is meeting Twilight, so I could mess with that, but. All masks off, full depth of exactly what it means for Red to be on a corruption arc? Cuddling Dark.

I’m putting each of them through unique issues based on their values/function. Green is discount base Link, the knight in shining armor? Dark paladin. Blue is full of rage and trust issues? I made him so paranoid the dark magic actually backfired and made him aware of the mind fuckery. Vio is extremely tactical and full of hubris? He’s the only one who can save them, surely he can trust himself to do this alone.

Red?

He just wants everybody to stop fighting. He wants to be friends. You’re going to be his friend, actually, he’s done asking. And you’ll do it because you love him, you love your teammates, everything is good and nothing hurts. If he was hurt you’d help, right? You want him to be happy? Well, he wants you to be happy too. So let’s just all get along. Stop thinking about it so hard, it’s almost like you want to be unhappy. You’ll make him cry.

….yeah I made him terrifying.

The thing about this version of Dark is, literally nobody has ever tried to empathize with him in his entire existence. He’s a tool of the goddess of Wisdom, guide and trial, pushed to the mental breaking point through several paradoxes and his catastrophic failure to properly test the hero. He’s “not a person”. But he was made from one, made to ruthlessly understand him without ever receiving understanding in kind. He’s familiar with Green’s urge to be blindly devout to the point of blasphemy, Blue’s all-consuming terror, Vio’s cocksure 5d chessmaster approach to any given problem. He thinks he can plan around that, because he has metaphorical first blood and territory advantage.

Red is love. That’s not hard to plan around, he just needs to convince Red to love him and it becomes a nonissue. Red’s a simpleton.

Red is being wildly underestimated, and Dark did not consider that this sweet little fire elemental would be working on him in kind. Red doesn’t just love- he spends every waking moment wanting safety, and safety to him is being surrounded by people who will give him the world. With all the filters off and dark magic pumping through his body, Red is extremely dangerous, perhaps moreso as an ally than as an enemy. That’s just on the interpersonal level, without sending a highly emotionally intelligent shadow out to spy on the heroes and possibly mess with them, since they’re a “threat to his family”.

It’s going to be a disaster and I can’t wait.

[hypochlorism]

HEAD LIKE A HOLE / I'D RATHER DIE THAN GIVE YOU CONTROL

#HYPOCHLORISM : chain-smoker with empty ashtrays , issues with eye contact , an obnoxious amount of cassette tapes , functioning insomniac , burner phones , ripped clothes but pristine fingernails , conspiracy theory aficionado , barker not a biter , "no future" stickers , pessimistic monologues , never ending knowledge on cleaning product brands , hidden softness , family disappointment , "can i pet your cat" , snarkiness as a defense mechanism , meaningless tattoos , volume maxed out , headphones on , wiping everything after touching , [...]

TW : suggested substance abuse , suggested violence + gore , emotional & psychological fatigue [...]

--- ABOUT

NAME: Aza Bilal Ashbridge ALIAS: Az , Mr. Clean , Blockhead , Dick-face , [...] AGE: Forty GENDER: Cis Male SEXUALITY: Bisexual MARITAL STATUS: Single

DOB: November 9th BIRTHPLACE: Brighton , England CURRENT RESIDENCE: London , England , a small two-bedroom apartment in Peckham which he shares with his cat Albini and hundreds of cassette tape filled boxes OCCUPATION: Cleaner @ The Bastion Hotel

Efficient and trustworthy service for the mere price of one gold coin per body! Aza Ashbridge for all of your evidence erasing needs. If you would like, Aza will also do a thorough clean-up of the crime scene though that may cost extra.

--- APPEARANCE

FACE: Riz Ahmed HEIGHT: 5'8" / 1.72 m ETHNICITY: British-Pakistani HAIR: Black and thick, usually kept short or shaved, Aza has begun to bleach it at home. This colour change began shortly after a nasty breakup and is likely to be just a phase EYES: Large and brown, though Aza tends to avoid making eye contact with people he does not wish to get attached to, he is often described as having kind eyes --- this compliment may be redacted as soon as Aza opens his mouth PHYSIQUE: Lean, not particularly muscled but not scrawny either, Aza has the body of someone who might have had a rigorous daily workout routine once upon a time but that has ceased to do so in recent years

DISTINCTIVE MARKS: His body is covered with dozens of small tattoos. Most of them have an ironic streak to them, others are absolutely nonsensical, some are downright ugly, there's no meaning or reason to the sentences and doodles on his skin . The most visible and intriguing tattoo is the one sitting between his neck and chest which reads "hypochlororous acid". His clothing style is also unmistakably ... unique . Most of them are worn-out , ripped or have holes in them . Everything is bought second-hand , some shirts seem either too big or too small for him , colour coordination is unimportant , if there is a method to his wardrobe , it remains a complete mystery to those who interact with him .

--- PERSONALITY

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good STRENGTHS: Dedicated , focused , observant , intelligent , efficient , confident , independent , creative , resourceful , patient , hard-working [...] WEAKNESSES: Snarky , lonely , inconvenient , blunt , pessimistic , paranoid , stubborn , avoidant , harsh , demanding , obsessive , [...]

SKILLS: Cleaning after others' messes with astounding precision , some knowledge in chemistry and anatomy , understands Urdu but unfortunately cannot speak it fluently , can play the guitar and the piano , drives a motorcycle , makes a mean cup of tea

HABITS: Regularly takes sleeping pills to combat insomnia , smokes weed on a semi-regular basis though it has become more regular in the past year and a half , a smoker of tobacco as well , a social drinker which doesn't venture beyond the realm of beer , cannot fall asleep in complete silence must pop in the one cassette tape he has with the sounds of Aza scrubbing someone's brains off the floor on a loop , avid petter of all cats

--- HISTORY

Born in Brighton, Aza's parents always expected great things from their only child. The pressure of him having to get the best grades in class and the best performance in the school play and the best scores in P.E. wasn't lost on young Aza. And while his mother and father dreamed up the magnificent future their son would have as he applied for college, Aza became increasingly enamoured with the art scene in Brighton; a vibrant world of experimental theatre and noise bands slowly pulled him in. It was when his mother caught of whiff of weed coming from his son's clothes that Aza got shipped up to the capital to live and work for his uncle.

A promising young man was suddenly stuck doing janitorial work at a car rental place. Mopping floors, dusting, fixing the angle of the clock on the wall, you know the deal. Needless to say Aza wasn't happy about it. He was even more unhappy whenever his parents would call to check with his uncle if whatever story Aza had told them earlier was true or a web of insidious lies --- But Aza had never been a bad kid. Heck, he had never even been a rebellious kid. It was when his uncle smacked him across the face for talking back to a costumer that Aza decided he had had it. He pissed in his uncle's gas tank and disappeared into the night.

Aza was nineteen when he cut ties with his family. He never stopped working since then; he's been a janitor, a cashier, a bartender, a dog-walker, a gas station clerk, a grave digger, a dish washer, a fucking mall santa , you name it.

It's when he gets this contract with a cleaning agency which specialises in crime scenes that things really start to get weird.

They offered a pay check better than any other job Aza had ever had, but the things he saw ... He doesn't like to talk about it. Thinks it's rude for people to even ask. Aza wasn't ready for the casualness of vacuuming cranium shards trapped behind the sofa or having to wear extra-thick gloves to pick up someone's flesh off the mini-bar. The violence of it all shook Aza to his core but, surprise surprise, he was great at cleaning that shit up.

The faster he could get everything back to the way it was, the faster he could go back to pretending that this stuff didn't happen. Aza had an eye for detail and, soon, he became the cleaning company's golden boy. It was also around that time that the insomnias started.

Seeing good regular people diced into pieces didn't do Aza any good. Despite the money he was making, it was not enough to make-up for the emotional toll such imagery brought. He was ready to quit. But he was trapped with the sleepless nights, an inability to be left alone with his thoughts and a growing sense of paranoia that he too could suffer a fate as violent as all those people he had mopped up.

Still, he needed the cash and his relationship was jeopardised by the psychological and economical turmoil Aza had fallen into. He was a wreck. One faithful night, while crying over drinks with a colleague, he was given a name; The Bastion Hotel.

Not a bad place to make a big buck and certainly not the kind of work in which you have to worry about running into good people.

Aza didn't know what that meant. He still cringes when he thinks about how he must have looked; red-eyed and hunching, practically begging for a job interview.

He still can't sleep. He is still faced with plenty of dead bodies. But, at the very least, Aza has come to terms with the fact that nothing really matters. All of the efforts his parents put into his education? Meaningless. His girlfriend of five years who bounced as soon as things got rough? Meaningless. His collection of cassette tapes being a clear attempt of Aza trying to hold on to a time in which life was simpler? Meaningless.

Freedom? Ethics? Faith? Big fucking deal.

--- EXTRAS

INSPIRED BY: Lisbeth Salander (TGWTDT), Rustin Cohle (True Detective), The Narrator (Fight Club), Elliot Alderson (Mr. Robot), [...] WANTED DYNAMICS: Under construction / currently everything and anything!

[mania-sama]

rule #29 - throne room

Rule #29 - Throne Room - Fish in a Birdcage

➼ information ❧ Genshin Impact ❧ Pairings: Candace & Kaveh ❧ Tags: ruins collapse, whump, implied/referenced medical experimentation, blood and injury, broken bones ❧ Summary: Kaveh explores Dar al-Shife, the abandoned Eleazar hospital in the Sumeru desert, to gain a better understanding of the structural layout of hospitals in that climate. It doesn't end as well as he hoped. ❧ Word Count: 2,495 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 13 October 2023

➼ whumptober 2023 ❧ Day 13: Crushed ❧ Previous Day ❧ Next Day ❧ Masterlist

As a diligent and thorough architect, Kaveh likes to cover all of his bases before starting on any project. If he wants to build a house, he examines dozens of different styles and draws out a hundred unique layouts. If he wants to erect a tower, he studies lighthouses and skyscrapers. These buildings may come in the form of contemporary or ancient architecture, and Kaveh investigates both with equal vigor and intellect. This way, he can combine the knowledge of all the architects before him and create a new masterpiece with every finished building.

It’s how he finds himself in the ruins of an old hospital in the Sumeru desert, located southeast of Aaru Village and completely abandoned. He’d been commissioned with an extremely generous base supply of mora to build a new hospital in the desert, and with the exploration restrictions lifted by the Akademiya, Kaveh pounced on the opportunity to survey one of the oldest hospitals in Sumeru history

A Matra guard trails behind Kaveh. She shifts uncomfortably as they stop at the entrance of the Dar al-Shifa, by all rights looking like she wants to be a thousand kilometers away from the hospital. Kaveh can’t help but take pity on her; in order to explore the ruins, a scholar must take a Matra member with them for their safety. The ruins are generally unstable and hostile creatures still lurk in the area, ready for their next victim.

Kaveh can protect himself, though. He has a Dendro Vision, a claymore, and years of exploring architecture under even worse structural conditions. So, he offers her the only mercy he can:

“You can wait here and guard the entrance,” he says. She looks at him hesitantly, biting her lip and tensing her shoulders in a speech about how she is required to stay by his side. He pushes on. “If anything happens, which I’m sure nothing will, I will scream for you. The hospital will have an echo, so you’ll hear me clearly. Besides, by standing at the entrance, you’re still doing your job. It’s the equivalent of guarding the outside of a room at night rather than standing directly by the scholar’s bed.”

The last addition manages to convince her, and her body sags with relief that Kaveh would find funny if anxiety wasn’t also curdling his stomach. It’s not the instability that worries him, he knows. It’s the hospital itself.

Dar al-Shifa emits an aura unlike any other abandoned building Kaveh has explored. Just from standing outside of it, unnatural chills make goosebumps rise up and down his arms and neck. The hospital has a driving wind of its own, like the current coming off of the sea at the port. It feels both horrifyingly alive and dead at the same time.

If Kaveh hadn’t been born Kaveh, he would’ve long turned away by now. Instead, he nods his head to the Matra guard in farewell and sets off to study the cold interior of the building. He was asked to build a hospital, and by the Archons he will do it with the Dar al-Shifa as the ancient structural base.

Ruins in particular benefit Kaveh in two ways. He can observe what the architects did right to make the structure look both beautiful and functional, as well as what they did wrong. Where were their calculations wrong? What caused one area to fall apart faster than the rest? What paint did they use to last hundreds upon thousands of years, and where did they find the resources to build their floors, ceilings, and beams?

All of these questions can be found within the hospital of Kaveh only looked. Unfortunately, the uppermost layer appears to be the worst off, with the ceilings falling away and the stucco floor and walls left to dry up and crack in the heat. The hospital is situated in a gloomy corner of the desert, sure, but the burning sun is as inescapable in the desert as water in the ocean. There isn’t much to note about this layer of the ruins other than the fact that Kaveh will need to use the reinforced stucco now more commonly used by modern architects to protect the buildings from cracking in the dry heat.

The stairs leading down to the second floor are as ominous as they can get. He swears he can hear a low whine in the breeze that sounds remarkably human, but it's gone the next second. Kaveh pushes aside his nerves and takes the steps one at a time, careful to not trip over any loose rocks that have been slowly pushed inside over the decades of abandonment.

The second floor is immediately cooler than the first one, though not much darker. Light filters in through the caved-in holes of the first floor, allowing the sun to reach far corners. Kaveh can find separate rooms now, and it's in the third room he explores that he finds the first bed. Maggot and bat-consumed holes dot the mattress. The sheets are brown, unrecognizable from the color they were originally. The frame is all but rotted away.

Kaveh leaves the room as quickly as he came. It’s a useless endeavor, he knows; there will be many more rooms to go, and they will all be necessary if he wants a full scope of what this architecture may have looked like in its prime, and why it's reduced to the flayed shell it is now.

Getting a hold of his nerves, Kaveh forces himself to work through the rest of the floor. Other than the occasional bed and table, there aren’t any artifacts to speak of. Even the insects seem to have left this layer behind. The real challenge, and subsequently more fruitful information, will be in the bottom third and fourth floors. Kaveh finishes his notes with a rising heartbeat, and he descends another set of stairs.

Dar al-Shifa seems to breathe on its own, sending a breeze through Kaveh’s hair even though he’s well below ground level at this point. He’s far from the sand and wind of the surface. It’s more unsettling than he thought it’d be. His hands tremble as he keeps a tight grip on his quiver, and he moves much slower than he had on the previous two floors.

It’s darker, he notes. The sun doesn’t reach this far anymore, and what little makes it through only settles by the stairs. He infuses his Dendro energy with Mehrak and lights the way. For once he’s thankful it cannot experience emotions like humans can. Kaveh wouldn’t want it to feel fear or the creeping dread that a zombified patient would come from the walls to eat him alive.

He jumps at the slightest of sounds, even though he knows logically that zombified patients are not real, and the only known “zombie” in the world is a little girl who can barely remember her own name. There is nothing to be afraid of.

Still, his heart pounds rabbit-fast as he takes notes of the hallways and rooms. His previous assumption about the bottom two layers was correct; fewer people have been brave enough to explore the ruins at this depth, so more artifacts are still present. He finds vials of soured liquids, shattered bottles and vases, medical machinery, and operating tables with the faint impression of dried blood.

Of course, he also finds the carvings on the walls and the notes left behind. He tries to focus on the preservative qualities of the stucco rather than the words themselves, but it’s impossible. He reads their pleas for help, the tick marks of the days going by, the vain scratch marks from insanity, and he feels sick. The faded ink on the papers is almost worse as they detail the “treatments” the Eleazar patients endured. They list names lost to history, long since buried in their righteous graves. At least, he hopes they’ve been buried. It’s the respect they deserve after their years of pain and suffering.

Kaveh manages to push on to the last floor of the hospital. The anxiety gnawing at his skin grows, and he’s nearly overcome with trembles when he reaches the bottom of the stairs. He doesn’t make it two steps in before he hears a tell-tale groan and the crack of stucco breaking apart.

He doesn’t have enough time to escape the falling ceiling. The little distance he makes protects his upper body from the main crash, but his legs still are caught by the debris. He falls onto the floor face-first. The air is knocked completely out of his chest, searing hot pain explodes through his body, and he screams. A hunk of hard, rotting wood lands directly in the small of his back, thwarting the desperate attempt he was making at crawling out from under the stucco, metal, and beams of wood.

His bones must have broken, for every time he so much as twitches, he cries. He can’t take in more than shallow breaths, both from the wood crushing his back and the sobs constricting his lungs. His heart pounds out of fear a piece of broken sternum will pierce the beating organ. His legs are entirely unmoveable. Any attempt at tensing or shifting them sends stabbing pain all over his lower body.

“Sir Kaveh! Are you — Oh my gods! Are you okay?” His Matra guard exclaims in horror. She got to his side in an instant and heaved the wood off of his back. It alleviated only some of his breathing restrictions; his chest is definitely broken, and he can’t quite push himself up with his arms without them immediately failing. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you! This is all my fault! I’m so sorry!”

Kaveh can’t respond to her even as she apologizes over and over for something he urged her to do. She didn’t make the ceiling fall, either. If anything, it was Kaveh walking on it after so many months or years of being undisturbed that caused it to collapse. He knew this going in — he should’ve been better prepared to make a mad dash.

His gasps come in fast and hard, every breath harder than the last. She clears the smaller pieces of debris on his arms and head, but the larger chunks crushing his legs remain stuck in place. Her efforts to move them only made it hurt worse, if that’s even possible. Every time they moved in an inch, electric shocks spasmed his body.

“I need to get help! It’s too heavy and I — I can’t do it on my own. I’ll be right back!” The guard tells him, kneeling to the ground and grabbing his face with her dirty, blood-stained hands. His blood. “Stay alive,” she demands. Then she runs up the stairs quickly as a hare.

He does everything he can to not let her down. He slows his breathing the best he can, and he tries to pinpoint the exact points at which the most weight is bearing down. It only lasts for a while. Most of his time is spent in a pain-induced delirium, thinking about the mistakes he made and the people he left behind.

He imagines Cyno telling a God-awful joke that nobody laughs at, but Kaveh still manages to find humor while underneath the rubble of the ceiling. Faruzan tells him about the various ways to get out of the predicament he’s in, though they all require more energy than he has. Then Tighnari sits down next to him, reminding him to stay awake and breathe.

It feels suspiciously like Death is keeping him company, with the way the hospital’s breath settles over his broken body like a cold hand. His vision swarms, and the same Death that took away the Eleazar patients kindly numbs his broken bones. Head buzzing with overwhelming exhaustion, he lays his head on the ground and stares listlessly at the debris and dust lying in heaps in front of him.

Then Alhaitham pinches his cheeks hard enough to leave bruises. “Do you really think you’re going to die here?”

Kaveh wakes to Hydro overtaking his senses, stuffing his nostrils, and bringing pain back into his body. He gasps, his broken sternum stabbing into his lungs, and his vision sharpens in on golden sandals. The weight on his legs releases with several groans of effort, and he can’t hold back his cries as an entirely new ache settles in his bones.

“I thought I almost lost you,” Candace says, her sweet smile showing through her voice alone. “Thank you for holding out until I could get here.”

Death’s cold embrace is replaced with Candace’s warm hands pulling him clear of the rubble. Hydro flows consistently from her Vision, closing the bleeding wounds from the sharp edges of the debris and binding, to some degree, his broken bones and torn ligaments. That doesn’t mean the process of moving him doesn’t hurt like he’s the sacrifice to a particularly violent deity, but the pain at least reminds him he’s alive.

Candace and the doctors she brought with her set up a temporary camp outside of the hospital grounds while still remaining in the general area. It’s too risky to carry him too far until they have the proper equipment, like a rolling stretcher and splints. She holds his hand when he can, letting him soak up her Hydro energy like a cat does the sun. It’s not a fix-all solution; her healing powers are limited in comparison to the strength she produces.

She was likely the one doing most of the debris removal, too. Kaveh wonders how he was able to make allies with the strongest person in the nation, someone who would come to him in his hour of need without a single complaint on her lips.

“Thank you,” he says when he’s lying down. His chest still aches with every inhale, and his breaths are still too short in comparison to normal breathing, but he needs to say this. He needs to express his gratitude for her saving his life.

Her heterochromatic eyes fix on him, and there is nothing less than comforting warmth in her gaze. “I was only helping a friend. Please, rest. I’m sure you’re in a lot of pain.”

“Whatever I can do,” he wheezes, “to repay this debt. Tell me.”

She smiles at him and crosses her legs on the chair situated at his makeshift bedside. Her hands rest in her lap. “I want you to recover and build our hospital. That is the debt you owe me.”

Kaveh closes his eyes and lets blissful peace wrap over his aching and broken body. It is not Death that keeps him quiet this time. It is the promise of a debt to be paid, a hospital to be built, and friends to heal for. It is Candace’s prevention of Dar al-Shifa’s final attempt to claim one last victim that puts his mind at ease.