#destroying the last remnants of the abusive fake

[titaniumaiioy]

have a trip planned for my birthday... i think, when its late and so dark that the sky and ocean meet into an endless black expanse, ill take those cursed tags and other remaining trinkets i couldnt burn or destroy... and Snowflake or Mico or both will be by my side as I hurl them into the dark abyss, to sink and sink and sink and sink and take the last remaining stain from my space. and well get a drink. and ill be free

[ohsocheesiness]

Played both Cyberpunk 2077 Phantom Liberty Endings

Both are super good in my opinion for V, Reed, and So Mi. Needed somewhere to post my thoughts.

My Natural Instinct

I did not trust So Mi at all, bro. Even from the beginning.. the thing with the chimera was suspect. Disappearing like that after I saved myers... idk bro. However, I do empathize with her circumstances. She's stuck somewhere where she's being abused. She's dying and she just wants to be free.

Don't trust Myers, but seemed the type to keep her end of the deal.

I didn't necessarily trust Reed either, but I believed in him. A man of principle who stuck by his team and country even if they did him dirty. I felt like So Mi only fake cared about me, but I felt like Reed truly did care about me and my life. He saw V as another of his comrads to protect. However, I knew it was his government that he'd unfortunately follow till his wheels deteriorated.

Following Reed

I believed that Reed 100% wanted to help So Mi escape. I told So Mi I only kind of trusted her and that I think Reed wants what's best for her.

Gameplay wise I think it's cool that following the FIA turned into a freaking horror survival game lmfao. I love the secret agent style shit in PL

Anyway, only in this ending do we learn that ROGUE AI are basically attacking her and using her as a fucking link to the physical world through the real net. She mentioned she felt like somebody was over her shoulder her whole time. It was THEM. I wonder what Alt would've had to say about it if I asked her tbh.

In the end though, there was a great moment with So Mi who was at her end. I had a save point and played out both instances if I killed her or if I let Reed take her. I don't really remember what my first instinct was to do... but after knowing both endings it would've been best just to kill her and give her freedom man. However, saving her gives us a bit more to Reed's character.

Reed is freaking depressed bro lmfao. He is the one keeping so mi in chains. He is the one locked in chains. He knows he's just a dog, enslaved to ideals he doesn't think truly matters, but it's all he has. The only thing he can do is lean into it, despite knowing it's flaws. "All that matters is that So Mi is still living." I think that's why Reed never comes suicide despite seeming so empty, he's strong enough to carry everything.. it's his duty even.

Ofc I accepted the offer to save my life, it made sense to me that they could really help and that Reed would do right by me.

FUCKING HURT ME that Johnny had to get destroyed so abruptly like that. I know he didn't want it. He accepted it though, his true death. Just Rogue and V being his last remnants of life in NC.

If you tell Reed thanks, he says something like "there's nothing to thank me for, V" and leaves, head hung down. Another life Reed took and ruined. Got So Mi on life support, enslaved by Myers, Alex killed, V some kind of wonky life so different than before. Coma for 2 years.

Also my Panam romance 💔💔💔💔 damnit! Panam is definitely the type to fucking be done with it cause she thinks I broke her heart but dang. Wish somebody would've went through my contacts and gave them the heads up 😐 but I LOVE what happened to Judy after this. She deserved the peace man. She's such a cool homie if you guys are platonic.

Following So Mi

I tried to play a lot more empathetic with So Mi and her circumstances, instead of just it being mutually beneficial. V was the only one who can understand what was happening to her.

& Since I played this second, I felt guilty asking her to use the black wall to hack shit and kill people while we were escaping from Hansen's spot. It's lowkey best to play this ending as a netrunner. You help So Mi a lot more directly.

So Mi is really just like V, kind of. She just wants to live, so she'll betray and lie to her friends and simply just have to feel bad about it afterwards. For the most part, V won't sell out to a corp, but So Mi kind of sold out her friends. Her character flaw I guess.

This is also the only ending where a diologue option will tell you MR BLUE EYES is the one who contacted her for NUSA info and hooked her up with a deal to get to the moon! This is the only time i remember hearing about him before you do the Sun ending. He definitely a major player in the next game and there's something he's trying to do involving space. Which is why i assume he sends V on a mission to the crystal palace.

Anyway, So Mi eventually reveals that she was lying to me the whole time. She knew it was only a one use kind of deal.... prick. But I told her I would've helped her anyway if she just told me.. which maybe I would've tbh.

I carried her to the rocket thing. Reed was waiting for you. You two are at odds now and he means business. He lowkey tries to butter you up about protecting So Mi, but call him on his bullshit. Then he switches up, he wants to take care in to answer for her crimes. I said I didn't want to have to shoot him. He said "neither do i" 🥹 but yea I popped his ass after he gave me no choice. In a certain regard I was happy he found peace. Killing reed is the best thing to do in this ending 100%

You hook So Mi in the rocket to the moon and talk with Johnny as you two watch her go into space. Real.

Wait long enough you get a mysterious message to go find a package. The package has evidence that So Mi is alive on the moon. Very cool! She lives in this ending. And she's free. I was actually super happy about that tbh.

Also with this ending, Alex lives. PL tried to give you a relationship with her... in the ending where she dies I was sad about it but got over it. In this ending where she lives you get another chance to chat with her. She calls you up to the bar and basically wants to ask about Reed's last moments and to say goodbye. I really liked Alex's character and appreciated this goodbye.

A while after this, you get a postcard on your megabuilding apartment door from Morocco. Alex is free too. A very good ending. Now it's up to V to find out how to survive (lol)

Which is better?

You get to see into So Mi's past with the first ending. First hand. You get some conversations with Reed that give him more depth, but So Mi either dies or might as well have died. Reed lives on avoiding his very clear regret, but may have found purpose. If you choose to take the help here V becoming just another face in the crowd... a bit of a shame if you played into the 'become a night city legend' but kind of deep and real considering now he has a new life, but had to go through a lot and lose a lot on the way.

With the second ending, Alex and So Mi live & them and Reed are free from being dogs to the NUSA government. You get your farewells... at least somebody gets a happy ending. With this, you also get your farewell with Johnny in one of the base endings. You can digest the weight of a life and choosing your own way to go. There's some moments in this, the conversations inbetween, in big fights, hand in hand with So Mi that make this worth while. Digesting it all with Johnny means a lot too.

So idk

[blzzrdstryr]

Reveries of changes

Yandere!Childe x Fatui!gn!reader

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CW: Dissociation, mentions of rape, violence, unhealthy relationship, abuse of power.

Sometimes you find yourself asking what ifs. What if the Event never happened and you never received the vision? What if Ajax never developed his obsession with you? What if you treated him a little bit warmer? Would he be more tolerable? There are thousands of possible scenarios buzzing in your head, sometimes diverging just by words left unsaid or an outstretched hand being shaked. You know it’s a futile thing, thinking about the future and the present that you will never have, but you can’t stop, thoughts spiraling further and further.

This morning starts with the similar what if. What if I agreed to start again? The brief conversation from yesterday is still on your mind - you dread it’s another of the turning points in your relationship, just like the rejected handshake or the hospitalized recruit were. A moment after which there’ll be changes, changes that you won’t have time to prepare for. Speaking from the experience alone, Childe, like the rotten bastard he is, will act even worse from now on. It all started from teen Ajax following you and offering his friendship at every turn and somehow ended in him personally asking Tsaritsa to assign you to him, reducing you from a highly respectable Fatui agent skilled both in stealth and subterfuge to a glorified escort and a secretary.

One day he’ll just get tired from all of this and will forcefully bend me over in some dark murky corner, you darkly conclude, the remnants of the sleep leaving your body entirely at the grim thought. Or maybe he will break his promise not to cheat and will order me to do it.

Unwilling to think about the Ninth Wave of your unwanted relationships, you quickly stand up from the bed and start preparing for the day. Dressing and freshening up from the sleep you still mentally return to the darker place, cautious of what Tartaglia will pull out this time. Finally, you exit the door fully ready and lock the room, hiding the key under the clothes after, and make way to the fourth floor of the bank.

Here lies Childe’s working space and personal quarters , and if the former can be easily seen and entered just by walking up the stairs, the latter is hidden from view by the wall and massive door. There is a wide work desk and two armchairs placed too close for your comfort. You peek into the interior window, only to find it veiled by a thick curtain from the other side, so you decide to broaden the space between the chairs.

Satisfied with distance now, you sit at your place, taking a sheet out of the pile of documents, mostly consisting of reports of credits approved and money returned, unusually mundane yet highly classified information. Aside from accompanying Childe when he needs to beat and threaten the debts out of deadbeats, you also have to track the transactions the bank makes, a routine job consuming most of your daytime.

At the sixth or seventh fiscal account, you hear door opening and mentally brace for Ajax’s presence. Harbinger doesn’t smile, looking serious instead. You hope it has nothing to do with you, as it’s too early in the day for you to already deal with his usual mess.

“[First]”, you look up, staring at the bizarrely humorless Ajax looming over your sitting form. He clears his throat, as if he feels awkward right now, “Are you sure you won’t have one of your episodes?”

Your mind blanks for a second and then there’s a mix of shame and anger flooding your being and making you see red. Over the last months you spent working with him, he was the sole trigger of your affliction and now there are considerable gaps in your memory, in which you have absolutely no clue what happened to you. You had an inkling that Childe is aware that you are not always completely here, but a slap in the face with such casual mention is enough to render you wordless for a good minute.

“I... It happens only under certain circumstances”, you find your voice wavering and his face darkens, as he quickly catches unsaid ‘because of you’. Fortunately, he decides not to press it.

“There’s a problem at hands, one that needs your skills". These words make you do a double take - Ajax doesn't look like he's lying, speech lacking usual grandiose and bravado, yet you still can't believe he lets you return to your former work. You make a quick guess.

“Qixing?”

“Qixing” he nods,"their spies must have learned something about the sigils. It's a minor issue now, but if Tianquan or Yuheng will learn about it…"

"A diplomatic disaster and a permanent loss of Geo Archon's gnosis" you continue for him, “Fatui would be banned or seriously limited in Liyue and most of trade routes will be cut off, Ningguang can easily press sanctions against most of Snezhnayan import”. You frown at the thought, no matter what Fatui would do in such situations there's too much to lose and almost nothing to gain, even if you start destroying the investigation and replication of sigils right now, it will be a waste of possible weapons against Rex Lapis.

Then, there's one painless exit from the complicated mess: destruction of all meager material evidence and clues they somehow scraped together. Despite finally having a glimpse of a freedom, you don’t feel any excitement, but doubt instead - just a year ago, such operation would be another routine task for you, but now, having wasted months because of Childe's possessiveness, you can't help but feel incompetent.

You contemplate, glancing at him: on one hand, Tartaglia can easily send any other agents, but on the other hand, none of said agents possess a vision, a vision that you specifically molded to be a perfect tool for stealth and assassinations. He tilts his head, a hand impatiently drumming against the desk, waiting for your answer - you can infer his inner monologue - Tartaglia, just like you, is torn between his loyalty to Tsaritsa and his own feelings on the matter and this is what finally cements your decision.

You can almost see how much he itches to forbid you from taking the mission, but stops himself out of his sense of duty to Snezhnaya, and this knowledge fills you with darker type of satisfaction to the very brim: You lean back, pretending to still ponder over his words, enjoying the view of apprehensive Childe for once.

“I think, I can’t...” you start, your voice deliberately small and hesitant, watching how Ajax smiles again, convinced that you no longer have any confidence in your abilities, “let Snezhnaya be compromised in any way”.

He doesn’t let any of the anger and frustration show on his face, yet the drumming ceases, leaving you two in the silence, save for the sounds of the street coming out of the window.

You know you’re poking at the sleeping tiger, letting a childish impulses to guide your words, but the opportunity to upset Harbinger are much harder to come by these days: he took away your job, your delusion and your freedom, the least he can do to compensate is suffer in return.

“Alright”, he finally says and fails to hold back disappointed sigh “agent [Last]. Your delusion is in Ekaterina’s possession, just as the rest of the equipment. You will start tonight, information is in the upper left drawer. You have no right to fail, if you do I will write a complaint to Tsaritsa against you and personally oversee that you will be discharged”.

It’s a gambling game then, and terribly unfair at that - even if you win it won’t set you free or relocate under someone easier to handle and Tartaglia loses virtually nothing by allowing you to roam out of his sight for one night only, and by failing you will literally had your life into Childe’s eager hands.

You won’t let the bastard triumph.

***

After getting your gear and delusion back, you spend the rest of the day reading the data and mentally preparing for what is about to come. The qixing base you're to infiltrate is located awfully near the current place of sigil research, as if Ningguang or whoever planted it here already suspected Fatui from the start. The base itself is disguised as an ancient Liyuen ruin with a couple of deactivated ruin hunters placed nearby to scare off the adventurers who no doubt will try to explore it.

You are almost panting when you finally reach it - turns out that despite being easily visible from afar, the base is surrounded by the tall and steep cliffs from all sides, with the only passage bound to be guarded. Invoking to the power of your vision, you effortlessly become invisible to the eye, enter the building and almost rush back the same second - there’s a millelith passing nearby in whom you almost bumped in.

Heart racing you enter the building again, walking on half bent legs to minimize the sounds, and avoid milleliths on your way. They feel a sudden rush of frosty air, but seeing no one nearby, just write it off as a sudden midnight chill. You continue to make your way, peeking into each room, forcing yourself to remain in this form longer and longer, body aching and freezing from the overuse. Finally you see it - a stack of documents placed on the bamboo table near the oil lamp in a conveniently empty room.

Your hand is already extended to push the lamp and fake an accidental fire, when you decide to investigate the papers - it’s better to learn what qixing already knows. Your eyes quickly peruse a liyuen script, characters upon other characters - a report about suspicious activities, a detailed intelligence of Northland’s spendings and thankfully, not a word of sigils, except the note stating that Fatuis are buying a considerable amount of paper and ink.

Having memorized each of the documents, you throw the lamp now, a flame quickly spreading to the documents and soon consuming a whole table. Someone in the corridor screams about fire, four milleliths rushing in the room and you use this distraction to sneak out. Having escaped the borders of the faux ruin you quickly run, still maintaining invisibility, and only when you reach the cliffs again do you allow yourself to rest.

After climbing over the rocks, the rest of the trail is spent between jogging and walking, frost from the vision still residing inside. Bitter chill slows down your movements and you can’t help, but shiver from time to time, arms and legs aching and burning from it. You eye the pyro delusion and consider using it - unlike a cryo vision that you sculpted for secrecy and agility, the delusion is more battle-focused, able to produce quick bursts of fire in the rare occasions you get into a brawl.

Suddenly, a ball of flames explodes near you - a whopperflower bursts out of the ground, sensing you in proximity. You dodge another fireball, instinctively flinching at the sudden flash of light and send an ice blade it's way. It slightly grazes the creature's skin, yet a mimetic plant rushes back under the ground as you summon another icicle and swiftly stab it in the "head" the second it emerges again.

The plant dies in convulsion, it’s reddish walls contracting around the blade, a fast stream of boiling hot energy nectar shooting from the wound the moment you pull away the weapon. You curse, as some of the liquid hits you on the leg, burning a part of your pants and scorching the flesh underneath. Hissing and gritting teeth, you use your vision again, now to soothe a throbbing pain.

Well, at least I am not freezing anymore.

You return at the first rays of dawn, dull pain still lingering in the lower body, pulsating and echoing every step. Slightly drowsy Nadia at the entrance nods at you, her gaze at your wound obvious even with a mask on, and you nod back, a wordless exchange providing a slight reprieve, before you have to deal with Childe again.

“Hard day?”, she asks right before you enter, a pale shadow of concern in her voice. You frown, confused by the sudden disquiet.

“Something happened?”

“Uhm”, a small pause, “the boss. He was restless tonight, very restless”.

Ah, shit.

“Well, that is unpleasant” you deadpan, any remaining desire to go inside the bank vanishing the same second: “Thank you anyways” and then you step in.

Harbinger waits right there in an absolutely empty lobby - it seems that Ekaterina’s shift hasn't started yet. He’s leaning on the wall, head turning to you as you enter and immediately noticing the state of your leg. His expression grows darker, when you thought he would lighten up at your perceived failure instead.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, hints of steel appearing in his voice. You lift your eyebrows - no teasing, starters or bravado. Maybe he's so impatient to hear about your failure that he forgot to keep up the act?

You swat away his question, deciding to report on your mission instead - documents were destroyed by a set up accident, none of the qixing and milleliths saw you; he doesn’t seem to listen though, eyes still glued to the burn and then he repeats his question, voice taking the dangerous tone.

“No one, no one did it. It was an accident on the way back”, he isn’t convinced judging by the way he grabs your arm, his monstrous strength evident in the steel trap grip. “Damn” you cuss, trying to free your hand - if Tartaglia learns that you let the whopperflower of all things injure you, he won’t let you live it down and will weaponise it, to point out your so-called incompetence over and over again.

“Let me go” you tug harder, a vision coming back to life from the distress. You pull away your wrist from him again and again and then you hear it first and feel it second - a small cracking sound and a sharp pain, shooting up your arm - you broke a bone. It’s too sudden for you to realize what happened or even properly sense the shock of ache.

He lets go of you in the same second, eyes looking blankly at the injured hand. His lips thin and he exhales, in a long and strangely controlled manner - seeing Childe act and look so emotionless is sure bizarre. He hauls you up bridal carry style, ripping out a low hiss of pain as his clothes rub against the burn, and directs himself to the stairs. You're too busy gritting your teeth and trying not to cry in front of Childe to notice him climbing past the third floor and only when he opens the door to his room with a kick do you finally snap back to reality.

Despite working for him for months now, you enter his quarters for the first time. It's a spacious place, with a wide bed and writing desk located near the window. There are different weapons decorating the walls - swords, claymores, spears - all with the traces of use, and a small pile of trinkets and children's toys on the desk, placed right near the started letter, some of them already half wrapped - must be a gift for someone, then.

He sets you down on the bed and turns to the wall, taking a dagger from its place and some small container. A part of you gets scared all of the sudden - you remember your morning thoughts and all those instances when his eyes focused on your body for far too long to be innocent or comfortable. Is this it? Did he get so fed up with you that he decided to drop any pretense and abandon the cat-and-mouse game you two seemed to have?

Ignoring the pain in both limbs you jolt for the exit - there’s no meaning in fighting him, yet you can still flee, lock in your room and then plan what to do. “Stop it” he says, a warning clear in his voice, and to your frustration it’s enough to glue you in place. You look at him, heart booming in your chest, barely suppressing a flinch at every step he’s taking. He leads you back to the bed, as you feel the world warping around you again and the worst part is that you can’t stop it - It’s unfair, I can’t leave, not yet, I will hate myself for the rest of my life if it happens.

He kneels down, blade slicing through the pants as you forget how to breath. His figure deforms, a dark blue sea leaking out of the dead fish eyes and you see great leviathans lurking underneath the surface. Childe is the ocean, in a sense that he contains horrors beyond the human imagination. He is the great sleeping kraken that will swallow the world and you are his first victim.

His hand takes something out of the container and you expect it to burn and to hurt you, but instead there’s a muffled soothing feeling that comes, an unintentional “ah” coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t force himself and patches you up on the contrary.

You come back to yourself little by little, when he almost finishes with ministrations, leg and wrist looking like two casts. It feels bizarre to come back to your body halfway, to see Ajax kneeling in front of you, head hung low and it’s even weirder to hear his voice, hurt and utterly defeated: “So that’s what you think of me”.

He helps you come back to your room, as you still feel dazed. You pinch yourself a couple of times, still unable to believe that any of these happenings are real, they are.

A turning point, you conclude, there’s no way anything will stay the same after this.

You both dread and anticipate the changes.

[hopeaterart]

RWBY HPTR AU: Timeline

More of my embarrassingly self-indulgent AU. It tackles the timeline of events happening before the show starts. For those for who it's the first time here: most of the antagonists in the show are students at Beacon here, hence why the 63 A.G.W. point is probably a bit confusing, as well as the presence of many, many OCs. Warning: Very Ozpin-centric, especially at the beginning, because I'm insane and constructed a whole backstory for this man. If you want me to add something to the timeline, or have questions about the AU, just ask. ^^

(REFERENCE: A.G.W. stands for After Great War.)

34 A.G.W.: Ozborn Pinhead is born to con-artists living in the mountains of Vale.

45 A.G.W.: King Ozymandias Valenoa dies. On a side-note, Aura Lycoris is born.

46 A.G.W.: Ozymandias/Ozma reincarnates into Ozborn the moment he hits puberty. A few months later, Ozborn runs away from home to join a Collibet Monastery.

(REFERENCE: Collibet is branch of religion in the world of Remnant. It's followers' main belief is that life is to be enjoyed to it's fullest, and they have to help people enjoy it. Their worship is mainly centered on the God of Light.)

51 A.G.W.: Ozborn decides to enroll in Beacon for multiple reasons. He's placed in Team DSOO with Cadmium Duat, Zephyr Olympia, and Jade Sheng. He will become very close to Jade, almost like siblings. She's the one who coins the Ozpin nickname.

52 A.G.W.: Vytal festival happens in Haven. Ozborn ends up being finalist instead of his teammate through circumstances that went against his will, and ends up befriending fellow finalist from Shade Theodore Yellowstone, as well as a Faunus competitor from Haven called Leonardo Lionheart. Theodore is the winner.

53 A.G.W.: During a training mission that brought them to Solitas, Team DSOO ends up working with James Ironwood. Even if difficult to work with, Ozborn forms a tentative friendship with him, which they'll maintain through CCT communications. Ozborn also accidently ends up mentoring a first year named Glynda Goodwitch.

54 A.G.W.: Team STRQ enrolls in Beacon. Ozborn ends up being their mentor (intentionally this time) through a mentorship program at Beacon. Summer Rose is the winner of the Vytal Festival, having beaten Ironwood. After warning them that the truth isn't pretty, Ozborn comes clean about his cycle of reincarnation to Jade, STRQ, Glynda, Theodore, Lionheart and Ironwood, as well as Salem and her immortality. The only one unwilling to get involved is Taiyang Xiao Long, who can see that Ozborn absolutely does not want to be in this situation, thinks he's in way over his head and probably needs to take some distance from Huntsman business. Qrow and Raven are given their bird powers.

55 A.G.W.: Having taken Taiyang's opinion on the situation to heart, Ozborn decides to take a step back and go back in the Monastery he grew up in in order to become a Priest. Jade joins him in a show of support.

57 A.G.W.: Ozborn gets ordained, and he and Jade promptly go on a pilgrimage together with one very clear objective in mind: fuck Salem over. They find her at the end of the year, successfully lie to Salem about Ozborn's identity and fool her into thinking they want to join her side. On a side note, Gretchen Reinhart, Hazel Reinhart and Winter Schnee are all born.

58 A.G.W.: After getting out of Salem the secret to her immortality and the location of the God of Light's pool/former residence, Ozborn and Jade run away in the night in order for Ozborn to get similar immortality. Salem finds out about the betrayal, successfully kills Jade before Ozborn can go in the pool, and permanently cripples him with a magical attack that destroys his leg in a way that the pool's magic isn't able to completely fix. Ozborn still obtains immortality, permanently changing the game. He also sheds away the identity of Ozborn Pinhead, and renames himself after Jade's nickname for him.

59 A.G.W.: Ozpin comes back, and marries Taiyang, Raven Branwen and Summer Rose together. He also enrolls in Beacon as the Myth & Religion teacher.

60 A.G.W.: Desperate to get back at Ozpin after such an humiliating defeat, Salem takes a teenage Aura Lycoris under her wing.

62 A.G.W.: Aura starts the deep-undercover operation of gaining Ozpin's trust, starting by enrolling into Beacon.

63 A.G.W.: Yang Xiao Long, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladona, Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren, Arthur Watts, Tyrian Callows, Cinder Fall, Mercury Black, Emerald Sustrai, Roman Brunswick, Trivia Vanille, Ochre Wedjat, Raoul Arsenic, Wilhemia Key and Lys Rosenbed are all born. On a side-note, Ozpin and Qrow start a tentative romantic relationship at the end of the year.

65 A.G.W.: Ruby Rose is born.

66 A.G.W.: Aura graduates, and goes on a small pause in her mission in order to clean up some loose ends on Salem's part.

67 A.G.W.: Summer dies on a mission gone wrong (Unless/until we get something specific, Aura's partially responsible in my AU). Overwhelmed and disillusioned by the demise of the woman she loved, Raven abandons the rest of her family and goes back to the Branwen tribe. Both Taiyang and Qrow are left broken by this series of events, and Qrow ends up falling to alcoholism, leaving Ozpin to pick up the broken pieces of the inner circle. On a side note, both Oscar Pine and Whitley Schnee are born.

68 A.G.W.: Following a convoluted series of events that leaves Oscar orphaned for a total of maybe an hour before Ozpin adopts him, the wizard finally starts getting his shit back together, and starts formulating a plan to get back on his feet properly. On a side-note, Marcus Black steals his son's- Mercury- Semblance.

69 A.G.W.: Ozpin successfully becomes Beacon's headmaster, and promptly pulls strings to put Theodore, Lionheart and Ironwood in the same positions in their respective kingdoms. He also makes Glynda into his successor to the position. Meanwhile, Aura joins his staff as the Study Hall teacher/supervisor. Kuroyuri is destroyed by the Nuckelavee, orphaning Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie.

72 A.G.W.: Mountain Glenn is destroyed. Ozpin is able to save a few people at the last minute, including the Reinhart twins, thus inspiring Gretchen to become a Huntress. On a side note, James Ironwood becomes General, and thus Atlas' Chief of Armies, and gains a second seat on the Atlesian Council. The rest of the inner circle has mixed feelings about this, mostly negative.

73 A.G.W.: After a very long time of frustration at the Atlesian Council, Hagatha Greene snaps after a combination of her project being denied in favor of Pietro's, and being forced to work with an actual child (10 years old Arthur Watts). She's approached by Salem via Aura, and fakes her death. On a side note, the Brunswick farm is invaded by Apathy, forcing Roman to run away. He'll later stow himself away to Vale and rename himself Torchwick in order to cut ties with his past.

74 A.G.W.: Lionheart is forced to inform the Spring Maiden about what Salem can do. Overwhelmed, she runs away to the Branwen tribe. Lionheart himself latter approached by Greene, who more-or-less blackmails him into joining Salem. He calls Ozpin to know what he's supposed to do, and ends up becoming a double-agent. On a side-note, Gretchen signs up for Beacon, and Winter for Atlas in her first step to distance herself from her family.

76 A.G.W.: Gretchen is severely wounded on a training mission. Since her body was never found, it was assumed she died. Despite knowing that he'd probably be attacked on sight- and he was- Ozpin is able to provide Hazel with a bit of peace concerning the demise of his sister. Unknown to the both of them, Gretchen was actually found by Salem's circle and brought to her in order to get a new underling. On a side-note, the Spring Maiden dies and passes the power to Raven.

77 A.G.W.: Cinder and Arthur meet off-handedly while running away from Atlas for different reasons (Cinder is running from the Madame, Arthur from the military) due to sneaking on the same cargo ship. They separate after. Cinder ends up staying in Mistral, while Arthur wanders around Anima and ends up meeting Tyrian, who's part of a circus. Tyrian ends up following Arthur, who intends on getting to Vale as fast as possible. The two end up becoming fast friends after some initial frostiness. Trivia also runs away from home and meets Roman, and renames herself Neopolitan after the imaginary friend she had in her childhood.

78 A.G.W.: Cinder meets Emerald in the streets of Mistral, and the two bond over their dreams of becoming Huntresses. After Cinders remembers something Arthur told her about Beacon having a program for students like them, the two girls set off for Beacon.

79 A.G.W.: Marcus is hired to assassinate Ozpin, and fails in this task. Some time after, Cinder and Emerald, who recently got to Vale, cross path with Mercury, who's running away from his abusive father after a savage fight with him due to the man cutting off his legs. Marcus joins Salem after.

(AMBIGUOUS TIME PERIOD: Somewhere in the 70s, Aura found and started forming all the members of Team ORKL. I don't have a precise time period, but for those curious, the order she found them in was: Raoul, Lys, Ochre and Whilemia.)

80 A.G.W.: The story starts.

[breakingbadfics]

Thought Experiment. Part 1.

or “How would I have done it” 

So The Sith Resurgence is a petty bashfic driven purely by a desire to spit in the face of canon, but specifically ReyLo Shippers, specifically the Kylo Ren/Ben Solo lovers of the ship. The plot is hollow, the only characters given any consideration of depth are the romantic leads making the supporting characters even more bereft of substance. and in trying to fix certain things with in the canon it somehow has even less than canon

What does a good version of this look like? 

“Course Correction”

So lets start with an easy version of this question. The story is sitting at 35 chapters as of my writing this section of the essay. 

Lets say Hypothetically Lily Orchard reached out to me to outline the final arc for the story. How would I do that? 

So as of the end of chapter 35 these things happen 

Kylo Ren is intending to fake the return of Emperor Palpatine. 

Aliana and Rey have just gotten married

Rey’s growth in power has been climbing and causing concern among her friends for her safety. 

The First Order know the location of the Resistance’s new base after they survived the events of episode 8

There is still some sort of conflict between Aliana, Rey, and Leia.

Kylo Ren is Angling towards setting up the fall of the republic. 

Rey and Aliana are sent to Nathema  reinforce the extraction of child recruits from The First Order. 

I’m missing something I’m sure, but we’re moving forward from these points. 

Chapter 36 begins with Aliana and Rey arriving on Nathema, They do the fighting, clear out the base, begin the evacuations and save a bunch of children. During this The Message is sent out to all First Order bases. The Emperor has returned from the dead. 

On Nathema The Message arriving causes a shift in the morale of the fighting and while Rey and Aliana make it out in time along with any resistance back up they had, but everyone is ratttled. 

in spite of that Aliana is basically no-selling the threat of The Emperor’s return. and while Rey is also nervous about it Aliana assuages those fears by explaining that, that wasn’t Palpatine at all. Because there was no shock in the force. If Darth Sidious had cheated death, it would have been something everyone force sensitive could have felt, and would have been felt long before the emperor even composed the message. 

And so Chapter 36 ends

Chapter 37 

With the force bond having been unblocked Kylo Ren was able to detect Rey had left the Resistance base. And in an impulse chose to personally lead an attack on the base. During this he made sure to have The Message from The Emperor sent out 

During the attack a lot of casualties occur, but The Core Cast srvives but the big casualty is that Kylo Ren slashed a path through and took out his mother. 

the rest of the story is trying to recuperate and then convey that Palpatine’s message was fabricated as propaganda. 

during all this it’s decided amongst the remaining resistance that when they make the retaliatory strike it has to be the final blow that sets off the collapse of the first order. 

Chapter 38

Aliana and Rey train more, Rey start learning various Sith Techniques. 

Captain Phasma leading the last remnants of The Knights of Ren reveal themselves to have been waiting in hiding, they’re further accompanied by a collection of bounty hunters aiming to overwhelm the jedi and the sith through sheer numbers and power. 

It is not an easy fight but Phasma’s attack force is defeated and the captain is forced to retreat as one of the sole survivors of this attack. The victory is owed in both to Rey and Aliana’s capabilities as a unit as well as Finn and the remaining Resistance assisting where it counts. 

--

Kylo Ren is continuing his own private solo training and has found a collection of sith holocrons in Snokes original private quarters that have aided in honing his skills.. 

The First Order itself has made an order for all forces across the galaxy to return to the original coordinates of Star Killer Base.

once the full force of The First Order arrives in one place the plan is revealed that they intend to pull a full final assault on The Republic, intent to basically glass the surface of Corruscant. 

Chapter 39

The First Order again. 

They are preparted to set out only to find themselves faced with The Resistance and The Sith Fleet having arrived to make their own final attack. 

The fight begins

During all this Rey, Aliana, and friends infiltrate the lead ship with intent to find and eliminate the leaders of the first order. 

The eventual final confrontation between Kylo Ren, Aliana, and Rey happens. 

And Then everythings for a moment as hundred of thousands of Imperial Star Destroyers warp in from nowhere. And start attacking both sides. 

A mesage relayed across all channels. 

Emperor Palpatine is actually somehow alive, and has arrived to reclaim control of his fleet. 

Chapter 40 

Emperor Palpatine’s message is simple; he’s returned to take his throne as ruler of the galaxy. To the Resistance he demands surrender so that their deaths may be quick and merciful. To The First Order a message to stand down, declare fealty to him or die. 

The entirety of the battle as far as the fleets go dissolves into chaos and immediately Rose and Holdo declare a fall back and as many people in the resistance get out, leaving the first order and imperial forces to engage in a massive civil war. 

While this is happening Aliana and Rey are trying to gauge what to do while also fighting Kylo Ren, only for Kylo Ren to get shot in the back of the head by General Hux, who retreats to take his side with the empire. 

Aliana and Rey spend the rest of the chapter escaping and being very very angry they were denied the catharsis of killing Kylo Ren 

Chapter 41 

everyone is panicking. 

The resistance is down to their last legs and the entire galaxy is with little hope 

meanwhile Hux and Phasma are called forth to see The Emperor personally. where it is explained that even in spite of the unifying desire to re-establish the empire the first order was not the entirety of the remaining imperial forced and some chose to quietly seek out planets known to be inhabited by the dark side of the force. during this a ritual was carried out to allow a suitable individual to become the vessel for the emperor. The Emperor is basically wearing full fitting body armor at all times. but basically he’s inhabiting the body of a Galen Marek clone. 

Oh also Hux is executed, because the emperor saw what he did to Kylo Ren who was the acting supreme leader of the First Order, and so determined Hux to be not trustworthy. 

The resistance are still having doubts to their abilities now that they’re low on forces. further faith in Aliana is wavering due to the whole “I’d know if the emperor was back” blowing up in her face. 

However because Palpatines Message was delivered across the galaxy, and on all channels they get a message from The Senate that basically declares that they’re going all in on the resistance and fully endorsing them. planets from across all systems as well as former rebel alliance members are en route to bolster their forces. it is now a full scale war to snuff out The Imperial Remnant. 

Chapter 42.  

Aliana and Rey are declared high generals with only Holdo and Rose Tico holding equal authority to them 

The Resistance manage to find the current whereabouts of the emperor. 

They set out to finally put an end to his reign of terror once and for all. 

Chapter 43 

Rey, Aliana, and crew launch a strike on Emperor Palpatines personal cruiser. 

It’s revealed that Palpatine has “resurrected” Kylo Ren. though no more than a puppet to act as an extention of Palpatines will. 

The final fight for the fate of the galaxy and the right to be The one true sith lord begins. 

Chapter 44 

The fight happens.

 Rey fights the husk of Kylo Ren, The final step in Rey Beniko’s empowerment, destroying and ending the life of her abuser, lamenting only in that the soul of kylo ren never occupied the husk so she couldn’t revel in the end of his pathetic existance. 

Aliana and Palpatine fight, The right to call themselves the True and Rightful Sith Lord. Palpatine almost wins, even with the act of the fight becoming a one on two drag out brawl between the two lovers and the emperor.

However Galen Marek proper, and Finn arrive, and proceed to even the odds in a 4 on 1 fight.

As one last attempt at a moral blow is Palpatine reveals that somewhere along in the past he set up an arranged marriage with the Beniko line of sith lords something that had been set up several hundred of years back somewhere between lana and aliana’s grandmother. The suitor was a member of his bloodline which he says to be rey. And that in falling for one another they’ve played into his plans to the letter 

Aliana, does not care. Murders palpatine, and as to whether or not he was telling the truth. No one cares about that either. taking it as an attempt to fuck with the both of them 

Chapter 45

The story ends with the usual “where are they now” 

Finn and Poe get married, Rey and Aliana adopt. under the leadership of Holdo and Rose The Resistance slides back into being the officially backed “Rebel Alliance” hunting down the last remnants of the first order and the empire with the full scope of the republic military 

The future for Force users is made a little more weird because the sith and the jedi are effectively the same thing trying with what ever opposes them being recognized as extremists of both sides

Somewhere the sole remnants of the first order and empire gather quietly to lick their wounds, lead by “Supreme Leaderl Phasma”  as a potential sequel bait

The story ends with Rey and Aliana drinking wine. and a toast to the future. 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Do you know of any fics where John and Sherlock are married and captured and tortured/hurt?

Hi Nonny!

Oh gosh you know, I don’t really recall if any of the fics I have with this premise is of them being married. Perhaps some of my Lovelies will be able to refresh my memory? Otherwise I do have a small number of fics with torture tagged in them, so I’ll give them to you in the meantime

CAPTURE AND TORTURE

See also:

Kidnapping, Hostage, & Stalking

Kidnapping, Hostage, & Stalking Pt. 2

The Hours Before Midnight by Lady Sam Mallory (T, 7,773 w, 1 Ch.. || TGG Fic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture / John Whump, Kidnapping, Drugging, Alternating POV, Worried / Protective Sherlock) – Moriarty doesn’t play fair. John must deal with hours of torment from Moriarty before going to meet Sherlock at the Pool at the end of the Great Game and Sherlock must deal with the consequences of his boredom.

Victim, Bait, Hero, Friend by KimberlyTheOwl (T, 7,887 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG Epilogue, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Past Kidnapping / Torture / Implied Rape, Panic Attacks, Worried / Possessive Sherlock, Lestrade is a Good Friend) – Some insights into why John was perfectly willing to throw everything away for a chance to kill Moriarty at the pool. Trauma, ugliness, and finally healing. Some nice supporting work by Lestrade as well.

Nightfall by CKLizzy (T, 8,001 w., 4 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Nightmares, Depictions of Violence/Torture/Injuries, Bed Sharing) – Awoken by nightmares, John and Sherlock seek each other’s company at night. They find more than either of them knew they were missing. Part 1 of Solace

We are all together alone by Mildredandbobbin (M, 10,461 w., 18 Ch. || Mutual Pining, Implied Torture, PTSD, Child Loss, Post-S3) – John is back at 221B but his relationship with Sherlock is not what it used to be.

White Blank Page by SarahCat1717 (M, 11,936 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TRF, Clever John, Reunion Fic, Pining Sherlock, Letters, Fantasies) – Post-fall, Sherlock is off eliminating Moriarty’s crime web. He finds he misses John. He can’t divulge that he still lives, but he placates his need to communicate with John and still feel a connection with him by sending him blank letters. But over time, this writing exercise lends itself to Sherlock exploring his feelings for his friend. What will happen when Sherlock returns to London and the man he has been “writing” to regularly for the past two years? NOT S3 compliant. Mary who?

When to Let Go by KendylGirl (M, 22,109 w, 8 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Reverse Reichenbach, Sacrifice, Forgiveness, Angst, Love, Implied Drug Use) – What if it were John who had to die to thwart Moriarty’s plans? John’s supposed death shatters Sherlock, and when he returns, it will challenge the pair to forge a path of forgiveness, to peace, and to find a way back to each other. Part 1 of When to Let Go

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn’t simple.

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w., 9 Ch. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Bloody But Unbowed by BeautifulFiction (E, 43,211 w., 8 Ch. || Abduction, John Whump, Mild Torture, Background Case Fic, Friends to Lovers, Post-TRF / S3 Rewrite, Hurt/Comfort) – When a familiar argument threatens to destroy the last remnants of John and Sherlock’s failing friendship, both men are left questioning their worth to one another. Before either of them has the chance to make amends, circumstance intervenes. John is left at the mercy of his abductors, and this time, he’s not sure Sherlock will bother coming to his rescue.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn’t Sherlock, he couldn’t work miracles. All he’d ever been able to do was write about them.

Lost Without My Blogger by starrysummernights (E, 52,155 w., 25 Ch. || Rev. Reich, PTSD, Hurt / Comfort, Fluff / Angst, Psychological Torture, Reunion Fic, Friends to Lovers) – John is abducted and declared dead. How will Sherlock cope without his blogger? How will he react when John comes back from the “dead?” Drama and angst with a healthy dose of romance. Part 1 of I’d Be Lost Without My Blogger

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w., 24 Ch. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn’t have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock POV, Eventual Happy Ending) – “For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face.” Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w., 23 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump, Mild DubCon, Hand / Blow Jobs, Torture) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more. 

THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON by skyefullofstars (T, 110,758 w., 24 Ch. || H/C, Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Whump, Nightmares, Murder, Drug Addiction, Torture) – While Sherlock grapples with his new-found feelings for John Watson, he faces a very real threat: John’s kidnapping and shooting at the hands of James Moriarty. And the knowledge that the love of his life is being used to test an addictive drug - at the risk of John’s sanity and life. Prequel to THE BOYS OF BAKER STREET. Part 1 of THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON

The Swan Triad Series by Pennin_Ink (T, 121,660 w. across 3 works || Swan Lake AU || Magical / Fairy Tale AU, Romance, Falling in Love, Pining, Psychological Torture, Transformation) – Sherlock and John grow up spending every summer together. Their mothers’ attempts to play matchmaker only fuel their mutual resentment and scorn. But then, one summer.

Ten Days by Engazed (E, 137,208 w., 31 Ch. || Rape/Non-Con, Post-TRF, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Case Fic) – Sherlock Holmes has been dead for forty months, and John is at last beginning to live his life again. But just when he believes he might be happy, his world crashes back down around him. John is named a missing person. Someone is pointing DI Lestrade in the wrong direction. And as the days pass, his situation only grows more dire. It seems like the disappearance of his best friend is the only thing that can bring Sherlock Holmes back from the dead. Part 1 of The Fallen

[fortressclan]

Zephyrclan was once a large clan, living somewhat peacefully by their original territory, led by their founder, Zephyrstar. The leader's two sons, Blueheart and Redsky, were the heirs to the leader position, but Zephyrstar never gave either the position, refusing to chose one over the other (and also not wanting to give one a giant ego boost). It wasnt until both brothers had enough, and decided to work together for once against their father. Both set up small, fake omens to convince their father that the forest was to be destroyed by twolegs soon, and that they should flee immediately. Fooled by his sons, Zephyrstar took action and immediately began evacuating the clan, resulting in a long journey to find a new territory.

While both brothers wanted their father gone so they could take the leader position, neither expected for Zephyrstar to become violently ill. As they arrived at their new territory, Zephyrstar fell to his sickness, going out by swearing and cursing at his two kids for, well, everything. Their medicine cat left not too long after, disappearing overnight, never to be heard from again.

Both brothers began fighting over who should rule, and eventually the two split apart, deciding to make clans of their own. Fueled by their ego, they named the clans after themselves, and immediately began plotting against the other to take over their part of the forest. Battles were happening almost daily, and both with nine lives of their own, the two leaders threw themselves repeatedly at the other in hopes of finally winning. Many cats left the clans at this time, not wanting to be the next death in the latest needless battle. As fights went on, soon each leader was on their last life. The lives gifted by starclan prevented death from old age, and both brothers knew this all too well. Immediately upon their last lives, they hid themselves away, throwing warrior after warrior in an endless stalemate. Eventually the days they hid turned to moons, and then years. All but the most loyal, or most bloodthirsty and battle happy had left, finding no protection or worth in a clan with an absent leader.

With the clan's power's dwindling, so did Starclan's power. With few and fewer cats to believe in them, and their leaders ignoring their calls, Starclan's only connection became the medicine cats of the clans. Unfortunately, that was Bloodspeckle. Figuring out the power he had over Starclan, he made a deal with them: Bloodspeckle would remain the medicine cat and connection to Starclan, as long as Bloodspeckle was guaranteed access to Starclan when he died, and that Bloodspeckle would be unable to die until he successfully trained an apprentice. Desperate, Starclan agreed, not foreseeing the very obvious loophole that Bloodspeckle abused the hell out of. Having absolutely no plan to have an apprentice now, Bloodspeckle remained the medicine cat for moons, and will remain for many more to come.

With the clan's in ruins, a certain cat saw opportunity. A loner claiming to have been send by a cat only known as 'The Overseer' came to both leaders with an offer. The Overseer would provide cats capable of fighting the leader's pointless war, while the leaders would allow the Overseer's cats to hunt and live on the territory. Having only a handful of cats left, both leaders immediately agreed to the deal, and the next day six cats were sent to each clan. Soon the standard routine was set, with battles happening repeatedly for the fight for new territory.

Some extra things to note not mentioned in this long essay:

- Ms Pauling still has the same name! She acts as the messenger between the two leaders and Overseer, who is Admin in this AU.

- Yes, each clan has the same exact cats. No i have no idea how that works.

- The twolegplace has been massively revamped, becoming more of a mercenary's playground. Cats trade prey for goods and services, which include mercenary work. Everyone but Rushwing, Bloodspeckle, and Scorchleap are mercenaries from the Twolegplace.

- Saxton Hale, now just Saxton, is the main provider for mercenaries instead of weapons. Him and Overseer work together often, and Overseer has effectively made him her mercenary supplier for almost free.

- Overseer has her own group, which has no real name. She doesnt care all too much about them honestly, but keeps the group together for protection and appearances. No one from the group has ever seen Overseer, and Pauling has to act as the link between the two.

- Grey mann, now just Grey, follows almost the exact same plotline as before. Taken by foxes instead of eagles, he grew up alongside them before eventually killing and leaving them. He left to the twolegplace, claiming most of the area there while collecting as many of the worst and bloodthirsty cats he could, effectively becoming Bloodclan 2.0.

- MvM takes place after both leaders get killed by Grey, forcing the clans to scatter. Most of the mercs stay in the forest, either out of having a better life there (Hawkslash, Houndsnap, Heavyclaw), out of attachment (Scorchleap, Rushwing), or having made a deal with Starclan and being stuck there (Bloodspeckle). Baystep and Racoonheart leave, while Firecrackle seems to just drift about, showing up some days while leaving others. Pauling returns after Grey pulls the same stunt to take over Mann Co as before, rehiring the mercs to defend the forest against Grey and his collection of twolegplace cats. It isnt until a few battles they realize that the last remnants of the clans are being fought over as well, and Starclan repeatedly revives the mercs to continue defending the clans (Akin to Medic reviving teammates, Bloodspeckle has to be nearby as he's the only connection Starclan has to do this).

- Rushwing's mom left the clans not too long after Rushwing became an apprentice, having planned to join Racoonheart. In the clans its normal to have no father, but having no mother hit Rushwing hard. She's currently living with Racoonheart's owners, and Racoonheart visits from time to time.

- Bloodspeckle's birds remain the same mostly, with Archemedes still being the main bird he keeps around. The medicine cat den is usually covered in feathers and nesting birds, much to the disappointment and annoyance of any hungry cat who walks by.

- Heavyclaw's Sandvich is replaced with a mouse he somehow managed to keep on him at all times. Houndsnap and Scorchleap are convinced Heavyclaw is some sort of demon because of this. Heavyclaw is confused that no one else hides food in their fur for safe keeping.

- Merasmus is still here! He still goes by the same name, and is able to see ghosts and communicate with them. Starclan has been desperately trying to contact him since he's a MUCH better choice than Bloodspeckle for literally everything, but Merasmus is just convinced he has some wild fucking dreams.

[helihi]

The Good, The Bad, and the Dirty: RWBY Vol 7 Ep 4

Thank you for renewing your Punch Jacques Club Membership, I cannot confirm or deny that you’ll accomplish your goal this season, but we’re family.

Overall rating of the chapter: 7.5/10 

*Spoilers Ahead*

The Good

To start off this chapter, we learn more about the true dynamics of the Ace Ops and, more importantly, about Atlas Academy. At Beacon, teams are chosen by interactions and collaborative efforts during a recorded test. Ozpin chose teams based on trust, leadership skills, and bonds. In Atlas, teams are chosen based on effectiveness. The students are not viewed as people or individuals, they are viewed as numbers.

In the previous episodes, there were a couple of things that didn’t quite sit well with me: Harriet’s original comment to Ruby regarding her Semblance felt more mean than playful, and the fact that Marrow was everyone’s punching bag. At first, you might think that this is just playful banter between friends, like Yang and Ruby referring to Jaune as Vomit Boy from time to time, however, that’s not true. Since Harriet declares that they are not friends, you may realize that they are not “picking on Marrow”, they are actively bullying him. There’s no complements thrown his way, there are no mutual laughter or apologies, it’s just drag after drag after drag.

I have the slight feeling that Marrow might consider them his friends, and that’s why he’s letting the comments slide. We should also consider that he is the only Faunus in the team, and although I believe their comments don’t come from a source of casual racism, but rather at pointing out the fact that he’s the most childish of them all, we should pin that for now.

I get Harriet, there’s a difference between co-workers and friends. Though some times you may befriend your co-workers, playful banter and after office outings don’t translate to friendship. I say this as someone who has worked for a big company. There were coworkers I genuinely befriended, and other who I was friendly after office hours, but never hung out with outside work parties or outings.

That being said, I find it hard that you wouldn’t bond with those whose life you’ve saved before, the same who’ve saved yours. Interestingly, when Yang inquires about this and gets dismissed by Harriet, you can see the way Blake reacts in the background. Have we bonded over trauma? Is that all that this is?

Let me be clear: people can bond over trauma, but at the same time, going through a lot of things with a person can show you sides of them you never noticed before, you see them in a different light. That being said, Team RWBY’s enemies haven’t been random people: Cinder killed Pyrrha, their friend; Emerald was someone they trusted; Mercury framed Yang in front of Remnant; Adam was Blake’s abusive ex and his goal to destroy Blake and Yang was personal. During the arcs these characters have gone through, they have grown as people as they faced death, obviously they are going to bond.

This may have been pure coincidence, but it’s interesting that an anti-bee section of the FNDM posed the idea that Yang and Blake’s relationship is based on mutual trauma. This claim is ridiculous because both of them cared about each other before the Fall of Beacon. The traumatic event made their relationship take a turn, and realize some things that they didn’t notice before or made things clearer for them. (On a side note, Asami realized she had feelings for Korra when she thought the avatar was going to die at the end of book 3). Sometimes certain situations change your perspective about things and people.

I want to note that Nora’s comedic relief landed perfectly, and Jaune’s sass was on point. Once again James is presented as someone trouble seeking the best outcome through the wrong means. That being said, Tyrian and Watts plan seem to be to overthrow him and generate chaos through political manipulation, and as someone who comes from a country with high levels of corruptions and suspicious murders, this is true real. Also, don’t think James is a good poor guy trying to be his best. He’s actively choosing one portion of the kingdom over the other and dooming certain populations.

Next stop is Jacques “Scumbag” Schnee making his first appearance in the volume. TBH it was about time. Given how the opening frames him, he had to show up soon. Just like I expected the moment he started bickering with Ironwood, he turned around and will now help Watts. At first, Jacques might have had power over Ironwood, but now he doesn’t, at least until he get his seat at “The Council”, which I’m expecting him to win.

As someone with an abusive parent, Jacques’s mannerisms make sense. The shift from his violent approach to a more manipulative one are common abusive tactics of an abusive person when in public or when their victim stands up to them. My parent used to be more physically abusive when I was a child, but when I grew taller and stronger, they switched to a psychological one since I could defend myself. In this case, Jacques was super close to striking Weiss again, but stopped the moment one of her true dads stepped in (Ironwood).

Jacques using Willow to guilt trip Weiss was dirty and awful, and once again adds on to my theory that she might be the Winter maiden. Thankfully, like Ruby promised, Team RBY is right beside her.

Blake is ready to kill him, and Yang is processing how awful the man is. Ruby is utterly confused at his attitude. Following this, we find that Winter was siting for him to leave before showing up. She looks around to confirm that he’s no longer there, and Weiss points out “Winter, it’s nice for you to finally show up”. Just like I've talked about before, while Weiss got out of the abusive environment and found a real family (Team RWBY), Winter escaped Jacques by joining the military. James Ironwood is only missing one Schnee child to adopt, and we’ll get to that soon enough.

All our kids are now huntsmen! Congrats! Just like they say, the licenses feel hollow after all they’ve been through, and TBH I agree. It also shows progress for the characters, specially Yang who had the most superficial goal out of the 4 Team RWBY members. Regardless of that, it’s nice to see the goof around, take pics, and eat cake. Something I thought it was adorable is how Winter interacts with Penny: she’s so caring and nice. I love them.

We got a really good moment between Ruby and Qrow, and some background on Summer. The DC comics have helped us understand Summer a little bit ore, but this confirms that she was a brat (hell ye). Apparently, her last mission was a “Summer mission”. I really need those Team STRQ flashbacks. I bet Raven know more than we think.

I also think it’s important that Qrow pointed out how Ruby is not Oz since she doesn’t keep the secret to herself. I think certain conditions should be met to be open about Salems existence, especially considering current circumstances.

Jaune offering to protect little children is the most Jaune thing ever, never change boy.

Lastly, Watts finds an ally: the douchbag who married into the Schnee name. That small interaction with Whitley and Jacques might be a small sign of foreshadowing him having a reception arc. His father doesn’t trust him to invite his heir into the meeting, and he treats his son rudely. Whitley looks genuinely dejected.

Watts faked his death, that might be an indication why Ironwood doesn’t have a clear suspect yet. Now, he’s part of the Asshole Mustache club.

Anyways, next episode it looks like we’re going to meet Robyn. The sheep faunus and the tattooed guy next to her might have been part of her team.

The Bad

Those quick animations for cheap comedic effect have started getting kinda annoying. I wish they didn’t overuse them ass much.

The Dirty

Where’s Klein.

--

Final Rating: 7.5/10. Good, but not above expectations.

A.N.: Alost 18 mins, keeping up with the consistent episode length, congrats!

[iblamemikegreen]

nobody talks about the destruction that being sexually abused as a child actually causes

ramblings by a survivor fighting to survive: pt 7

narcissism (noun) - selfishness, involving a sense of entitlement, a lack of empathy, and a need for admiration, as characterizing a personality type.

my mother was beautiful. it’s true. a real bonafide beauty queen. armed with poise, grace, talent, natural beauty, carefully practiced soft spoken words, and a constant polite smile. 

so shiny and perfect and wonderful. on the outside.

on the inside, however, she was one of the ugliest people to have ever stepped foot on this earth. she was mean, vindictive, manipulative, vain, narcissistic, cruel, selfish. ugly.

another doll in the dollhouse. fooling everyone she came in contact with, having them all think that she was so demure and innocent. 

when I was 11 and finally came forward about being repeatedly sexually abused for 6 years by my own grandfather (my mother’s father), my mother decided to sacrifice my safety and well being in order to protect her “Christian reputation.” 

“this is embarrassing” “what will the rest of the church think of us?” “Lindsey don't say anything to anyone about this, it’s shameful and gross” “I cant believe this is happening to me”

she never told me that it wasn't my fault. because she blamed me for ruining her perfect world. her perfect family. her perfect image. 

instead of blaming my abuser, she blamed me, the terrified and lonely 11 year old victim.  

she made the abuse that I had to endure, about herself. her permanent victim mentality bled through into everything, even her own daughter’s sexual abuse. she decided to stick her head in the ground like a coward and pretend like the abuse didn't happen, and if I ever tried to bring it up or exhibited a behavior attributed to PTSD she would cry and make it all about herself. because everything was always about her. always. 

more often than not, I find myself wishing that I had a mother that loved me. but she never did, and she never will. so I've decided to lay it all out in the open here and write a public letter to her in order to obtain the closure I need to move on with my life:

Dear Stephanie,

I would like to start off by saying that you lost the right to refer to yourself as my “mother” the second you decided to protect the man who destroyed my childhood instead of protecting me. because of you, the monster that ripped away any sense of safety, happiness, comfort, trust, and humanity from me didn't go to jail. he wasn't even registered as a sex offender. a cretin that sexually abused his own granddaughter from when she was the ages of 5-11 wasn't even registered as a sex offender because YOU and your wretched family cried to the judge and prosecutor because you wanted to protect your false pious reputation. what you did was beyond the realm of evil, and I hope you feel shame for it for the rest of your empty pathetic existence.

when I was 13 I overheard you while you were talking to your morally bankrupt mother on the phone. you were complaining about how I “wasn’t getting any better.” and how “it was embarrassing that I couldn't just let the past go.” well, while you tried to pretend like the abuse just never happened, I couldn't. you don't know what it’s like to have someone hold complete power over you. you don't know what it’s like to live in desolation as a child, fearful of being trapped in a room alone with your grandfather because you know he takes pleasure in hurting and destroying everything that you are. you don't know what it’s like to have your innocence and childhood completely ripped from your tiny fingertips before you even know how to spell your own fucking name. you never even bothered to try and understand the pain and suffering I had to endure. you didn't care about anything other than yourself, and your public image. 

you never apologized. and you never will, because you’re too far gone to even being to understand the calamity of your shitty parenting, and your heinous decisions. you created your own false reality, and separated yourself from the true world because all you wanted was attention. me being the victim of sexual abuse was just too much of the “spotlight” not being directed to you, so you decided to make yourself the victim in all of this. any mention of what I had to endure and you’d cry, asking why this happened to you. your reputation, your family, you you you you you you you. 

a few years after the “scandal,” as you so gracefully put it, happened, you and I were shopping at the mall. all of a sudden you pulled me aside into a store, giggling as you did so. when I asked what was going on, you pointed across the hall and there he was. the monster that tortured and molested me for six years, walking with his enabler of a wife, hand and hand, shopping at the same mall as us. you were treating it as if it were some kind of innocent game of hide and seek. acting as though me having to see the embodiment of detrimental and ground wavering fear and pain was no big deal. you got angry at me when I started crying, because I was ruining your shopping trip.     

you’re impossible to reach, because you don't even exist anymore. you just don't get it. you’re not even human. you’re just a phantom, remnants of some washed up beauty queen who was so narcissistic and vain that she couldn't stand her own daughter surviving life destroying trauma at age 11 because it drew attention from you. 

you were my biggest bully throughout the entirety of my life. no matter what I did, it was never good enough for you. or maybe it was, and you just thought it was fun to build me up one step, then cut me down five steps. I was always too ugly, too fat, too smart, too stupid, too untalented, too poorly dressed, too bad at makeup, too this, too that, not enough this, not enough that. it was exhausting, talking to you. being around your suffocatingly negative and jealous aura. you were so insecure about yourself and your fading beauty queen looks that you took it all out on your only child, like a miserable old hag. and yet you wondered why I never wanted to cultivate a relationship with you. 

I still vividly remember the moment I realized that you never loved me. it was June 2010, I was 15, and you and my dad were in the midst of a stressful divorce. it was stressful because you refused to leave the house, even though you weren't welcome, because you just loved to make everyone around you completely miserable; but I digress. we were sitting in your car in front of the house, and I told you that when the divorce was finalized I wanted to live with my dad full time, and for him to have full custody of me. it was then that you turned, looked directly at me, and said, “Lindsey that’s not fair. I don't want to have to pay child support.” you truly a miserable monster, just like your mother, and just like your father.     

there aren't enough words in this galaxy to explain how much you completely and utterly failed me in every aspect of being a mother. and honestly, I just don't have the time to waste on you anymore. I'm writing this to fully stop all of these thoughts, all these words left unsaid, from continuing to circle around in my brain. you aren't worth the stress, you really aren't. I cant even remember the last time I spoke to you, or saw you, because I cut off all contact years ago. maybe once upon a time I needed you as my mother, but when I realized that you were never one to begin with, that need faded. I grew strong on my own. I am who I am because I made me, and I did a hell of a good job. you don't get to take any credit in my successes, in my life, in my survival, because you are nothing to me. congratulations, Stephanie. you finally get what you’ve always wanted, the unwavering heat of the spotlight, because I'm exiting your stage for good. 

I don't forgive you, I'm not sure I ever will. because you don't deserve it. saying, “I'm sorry for whatever I may have done to upset you,” is NOT an apology. it’s not even a small step in taking actual accountability. but I don't expect much from someone as selfish and fake as you.

before you try to pretend to cry and say that I'm being mean to you, just know this, you aren't a victim. I'm not your true adversary here. you are your own worst enemy. these are just the consequences to your own narcissistic and evil actions, and you have to live with them forever in your empty, loveless, fake life.

you’ve always preached about how much of a “good christian” you are, and threw me away in order to protect that precious reputation of yours, so I'll end with this: I hope you’re somewhere praying.  

Sincerely,

The Daughter Who No Longer Thinks Of You

[trouvelle]

Emogust 27.08 — Seeing Red

A/N: Praise the Maker and all things good for this Labor Day weekend!! Written for Emogust 27.08: Seeing Red. @mintchocolateleaves @sup-poki Yep I’m still here :’D Warning: multiverse / multiple dimensions, character death, sexual themes

Aoko’s face reflects horror as she falls.

Kaito watches her disappear amidst dust and darkness as something sucks Aoko into another place, another time, another space. He extends his hand and she reaches for him. Kaito feels triumph in his veins when Aoko’s fingers brush with his.

He curls his fingers, expecting to feel solid flesh underneath them.

Kaito doesn’t.

He screams and then—

nothing.

Aoko falls and Kaito almost rips space and universe in agony.

Φ

Kaito snaps reality with a crook of his fingers. With a wisp of smoke, he feels the world—his world—righting itself again around him.

���This is not healthy anymore, Kuroba,” Saguru berates him. He’s standing tall in his all black military-like outfit, his blonde hair standing out. He seems like he’s been waiting for Kaito. The water fountain behind him is calm, but Kaito knows Saguru can make it explode anytime with his will.

He walks briskly away from it. “I don’t care,” Kaito retorts back. He makes it a point to keep his shoulders square and head up.

“She’s gone,” the blonde stresses.

Kaito turns around and he fists the shirt Saguru is wearing. He curls it around his fingers and he can see the other man swallowing, but not flinching away. His eyes strays to the side. He’s afraid, Kaito knows—most people are, of him. But Saguru is one of his best friends, and they’re the only ones who are not afraid of him but for him.

“You will never understand,” he says through gritted teeth.

Shadows and light obey in the wake of Kaito’s overwhelming emotions and he reaches to the deepest part of him, the one that he treasures more than anything, to find a voice and a touch belonging to the most important person in Kaito’s life.

Reality rights itself again when he lets go of Saguru’s shirt. The other man dusts himself off but Kaito can clearly see the remnants of anxiety with the way he  adjusts his clothes.

There’s still the telltale disturbance in space and time. Everyone knows that Kaito can destroy every other universe if he so wishes.

Kaito has almost done it with his grief alone.

Φ

Kaito lazily strolls around the park with an arrogance he wears so well. He’s well-trained not only in the gift of space but the art of persuasion. Men like him, he’s been told, are made to rule the world.

“Slow down,” a voice complains. Kaito’s demeanor drops completely as a genuine smile breaks free.

“I’m sorry,” he coos. He makes a show of bending down to tap her plush thighs. “I forgot that you have such short legs, Aoko.”

Aoko scowls at him and she pounds Kaito with his fists. Kaito fake moans but Aoko’s tiny fists barely hurt him. He exaggerates being hurt, clutching his stomach near the area she has jabbed him.

“You really know where to hurt,” Kaito mock scowls. Aoko shoots him a large smile. 

He cannot help himself. Kaito leans down to kiss her on the lips gently.

Aoko splutters.

“Baka! We’re on a mission!”

The red on her face is endearing and Kaito is reminded once again that he has loved this girl ever since he’s nine years old.

Kaito’s 27 now and, in two years, he’s going to be in love with do Aoko for two entire decades.

“I love you,” Kaito helplessly whispers. “More than anything and anyone in the infinite universes.”

He is staring into Aoko’s eyes as he says that, but he also certainly saw the flare of red in Aoko’s cheeks. She returns his declaration with a passionate kiss, before abruptly ending it and running from him mischievously. 

“You know can’t run away from me,” he playfully threatens before he disappears in a cloud of black smoke.

Φ

There is an infinite number of universes. Time exists in a sequence but also in snapshots. Kaito doesn’t know how to properly explain it himself but he knows it like second nature, the way people know they have to breathe even without knowing how about the exact concept of lungs and oxygen.

These universes, Kaito can travel to them in a snap. He discovers this when he’s fifteen, realizing that he cannot just move within their universe but to others as well. That’s when he knows that everything is made up of infinities. Their world is a collection of multiple infinities—small infinities creating a larger infinity that is also one of many and so on, and on, and on, and on, and on…

His favorite universe, aside from the one they’re in, is another one where Kaito is a thief with a knack for magic. He has a pretty good career, he proudly told Aoko. The Kaito in that universe is hell bent on looking for Pandora gem, the infamous gem that’s said to grant its possessor immortality. 

Little did the other Kaito know that the Pandora gem is not even located in his universe. It’s safely guarded by their people, right here in their universe, never to be taken away and misused.

Φ

He moves across and through time and space like particles and energy waves, leaving only dark matter.

People fear what they do not know.

Kaito is the chasm by which the universe spins, the fissure by which the existence of everything has made sense.

He is an anomaly.

Kaito is a singularity—perhaps the singularity.

And if the universe revolves around the tips of Kaito’s fingers, then Kaito himself revolves around Aoko.

Φ

Aoko’s head is lying on Kaito’s chest and her index finger draws lines on his toned pectoral.

Kaito raises his eyebrows and he wiggles around. Aoko takes the hint without spoken words so she rolls on top of Kaito’s naked form. She nestles both her legs in between Kaito’s and their bodies, unclothed like the day they’re born, are pressed together. The heat is comfortable even if the sticky sweat isn’t.

“Really,” Kaito deadpans. His flat voice is betrayed by the way his hands automatically move to cup Aoko’s bottom. He kneads the flesh lightly and she sighs, content, before she pushes back hard to make him moan.

She kisses Kaito on the mouth and murmurs against the man’s plush lip, “Maybe later.”

Kaito smirks as he returns the lip lock with more ferocity. When they are done, he maneuvers them both, pinning Aoko’s thin wrists on the bed, “Why not now?”

When Aoko walks with a limp and a sore throat the next day while Kaito is all around her like a leech, everyone knows why. 

Φ

“Kuroba.”

A figure walks inside the training room and Kaito ceases the abuse of the dummy he’s using as a stationary sparring partner. He wipes the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, turning to his visitor with an unamused stare. 

“Kudo,” he returns it with the same tone.

The man sits on the bench beside the ring as Kaito jumps the small height with no effort. Shinichi tosses his water bottle to him and he catches it with a deft hand, uncapping and thirstily drinking the liquid.

Once he finishes half of the drink, he turns to his cousin again. “Why are you here?”

Kaito drops beside Shinichi on the bench. the training room is quiet not because it’s in the secluded part but because no one dares come in when Kaito’s inside. Not after…

“Not that I mind, no.” Kaito chuckles a little but the mirth is chased out of it. Shinichi abhors training like this, preferring to hone his ability rather than his muscles. Kaito is the same, for he never once steps in this room before. This room is usually reserved for Kyogoku and Hattori, because the former has to work his strength-related power in here and the latter well, simply likes punching. But nowadays he finds punching the dummy doll relieving too. Like he’s releasing his pent-up frustration. 

“Well,” Shinichi shrugs. “I have a change of heart today.”

Kaito sighs, feeling tired and knowing already why Shinichi is here. “If you’re here to talk to me about Aoko,”

He eyes Shinichi out of the corner of his eyes, the man not moving even an inch of his face.

“No,” he answers slowly.

Kaito leans back, crossing his legs. “All right then.”

Shinichi exhales and it’s as good as an agreement as any.

“They’re right, Kaito,” Shinichi mumbles.

Kaito tenses up, not wanting to fight his cousin, whom he has considered as his best friend. “They’re not.”

Shinichi turns to him and Kaito returns the stare. Shinichi might have more experience, hell—he has even gone through something of the same. Call him inconsiderate, but Kaito is not backing down.

“Accept it.” Shinichi hisses. “How are you so sure that Aoko is not dead, Kaito?”

Kaito sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“I am.”

Shinichi scoffs at that but underneath, Kaito can see the hurt. Shinichi is undoubtedly drawing from his own personal experience. But hey, everyone gets to grief differently, okay? Kaito just chooses not to.

“We all saw her disappear,” Shinichi mutters. “She fell, Kaito. What makes you think she’s still alive somewhere—stuck in some other universe aside from ours?”

“I just do,” Kaito insists and his voice breaks at the end. Suddenly, his shoulders deflate and he feels the anger bleed out of him, only replaced by the rawness of hurt. He takes a shuddering inhale before speaking again. “If she’s dead, Shinichi, I would know. I would feel it, deep in my bones.”

He sees Shinichi’s eyes widen and his mouth opens but before he can say anything, Kaito adds in shattered whisper,

“I would know because a part of me—a large part of me would die with her.”

P.S. I blame it on the quantum physics class I had to take last semester O.o And I hope it’s acceptable that Kaito isn’t metaphorically seeing red but simply.. literally. 

[fineillsignup]

Just spent 3hrs reading your naruto analysis tag, and I love everything!! Can you tell me more abour uzumakis and senjus? Is it ever stated that tsunade is a senju or is she only a granddaughter of a one, like himawari is to hiashi? And where even is the rest of the senjus? Also, why are uzumakis scattered everywhere? At first I thought mentioning that karin and nagato are uzumaki would be important for the story, but it isn't so why did kishi even gave them that last name??

~Uzumaki night here on fineillsignup~

It isn’t actually clear that Tsunade is a Senju by surname. She never uses the name “Senju Tsunade” in story; she never wears the Senju clan symbol. The way people called her -hime might imply she was part of the ruling family, but then again it might not. East Asian usage of terms like “-hime/princess” can be somewhat complicated, and you have the examples in universe where Temari (daughter of a Kage) and Kurotsuchi (granddaughter of a kage) are not referred to as -hime anywhere that I remember.

I actually don’t see any reason why perhaps it isn’t from her Senju side at all that she gets the -hime title… perhaps Hashirama’s daughter married civilian royalty, such as a prince, and that’s why Tsunade is a princess? It’s an interesting idea for a headcanon that I didn’t consider until just now.

(Plus the whole timeline for that era is so fucked up regarding when Hashirama reproduced, when his child reproduced in time for Hashirama to know her to at least ~5 year old but still die looking like he’s in his mid-thirties, etc etc.)

The Uzumaki home village was mysteriously wiped out (with no thorough canon explanation to who did it and how), and a small remnant of refugees scattered here and there, but we only know about Nagato and his parents, Karin and her mother, and Kushina (and then Naruto).

Could there be more Uzumakis? Gosh, this would seem like a question that a consistently characterized Naruto would really be interested in, but instead we got Boruto-era fake Naruto who inexplicably doesn’t even seem to care about Karin.

Like not only do we not get the wholesome Naruto and Karin deep friendship we all need, he doesn’t even seem to know she exists, much less to care about how she’s still working for her abuser/manipulator Snakebert. Or that Snakebert is abusing/manipulating in new and creative ways and whoops look at me go on this tangent. Anyway Bort is shitty and no one should ever watch it. Instead you should read, write, draw, and look at alternate ending fanwork. Amen.

I’m going to start ending all my meta with “and furthermore Boruto must be destroyed” like Cato re: Carthage.

[thewildheroine]

Fly Away |Twenty-Three|

Warnings: Abuse, major character death, angst, language

Word Count: 5.3K

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: I’m sorry this took forever. I have zero excuses. Enjoy!!! 🖤🖤🖤

|Masterlist|

|Part Twenty-One| |Part Twenty-two| |Part Twenty-Four|

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” my father asks from behind me. His hand lands on my shoulder and I have to restrain myself from slapping him away from me. We both stare out at the entirety of Manhattan. Everything is in pure chaos. Buildings have collapsed, people cry out in horror, and far in the distance, I can make out the giant, shining silhouette of the being responsible. In short, the world- my world is on fire.

“I suppose.” My voice is numb and emotionless. Even in the depths of my usually raging, untamable soul, I am tired. Broken down and hopeless in more than a million ways. I bite onto my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and drop my eyes to the cracked soil. In my head I allow myself to wander, curious to discover what exactly lead to this.

“I just wanted to be a hero,” I mumble only loud enough for my dad to here. Even in the beginning- not the true beginning but the beginning in which I saved that young boy- I was always just doing what needed to be down for this plan to work. No matter how much I believed I was working to better myself I was always just walking down the path Dormammu intended for me, which would lead to the destruction I am seeing right in front of my eyes.

Suddenly my father grabs my chin turns me towards him so that we’re face to face. His harsh eyes tear me apart piece by piece until I am back to the writhing child that so weakly cowers beneath his feet. I clench my jaw and do my best to swallow down as much of my fear as possible. It’s a beacon though, a beacon that he is attracted to. I bite my tongue and avert my gaze as much as possible. My father’s grip is tight though and I’m forced to look at him when he squeezes my face harshly. I cry out and blink through stinging tears so that I can see him. It takes everything in me not to bawl for mercy as he cruelly shoves me away from him and towards the ground, disgust evident on his sharp features.

“We all expected so much more from you than this weak, pathetic thing.” I can’t help but choke at his words while I push myself off of the soil. My heart aches from that word. “Expected”. I thought I had beaten them. I thought I found a way to live above expectations but even now they hunt me like a pack of starved wolves yearning to survive. “When will you realize this single lesson Y/N? You are not the hero of this story. You are the Icarus. You yearned for the light and warmth the sun provided you with after never having seen it. Y/N, you were destined to fall at some point. We all are. This hope you harbor within yourself was just the catalyst to your own destruction.” I stare up at him in horror. His glare is harsh. Harsher than I could ever have remembered.

Abruptly, I feel I presence to my side and look over, already knowing what I will see. Tears slip from my eyes and down my cheeks as I stare pitifully at Dormammu who must have approached while my father was lecturing me. I shiver under the gaze of his bright purple eyes and bow my head. When I look down I’m met with the sight of a green cloud of smoke being sucked away from my body. Fearfully, I look up at Dormammu and back at the time stone remnants, realizing that he’s taking it away from me. Gasping, I try grabbing onto the remnants and pushing them back into my body. My fingers faze right through though and I can only sob as my energy is ripped away from me.

“Three days until Dormammu comes for us,” a bodiless voice whispers. “Three days to lose it all. Three days until you give up.��

I wake with a start, cold sweat coating my forehead as I bite my lip to stop my crying. My hands fly up to my face to wipe away the tears that had fallen from my raw eyes during the dream that seemed to last an eternity. Despite being out of the horrific nightmare I look around paranoidly to make sure my father isn’t here. I sigh from the relief of only being met with the empty lab of the base. Haphazardly I tear out the cords connecting me to a multitude of beeping machines and slip from the metal table.

Right away my legs buckle under me and I fall to the cold ground with a thud. My knees slam against the linoleum hard and I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out in pain. Achingly, I push myself up.

All I’m wearing is a crisp white shirt, my favorite cardigan, and leggings. Underneath I can feel the sting of my wound that has been covered with a stiff, cream-colored bandage. Subconsciously, I place a hand to the area over my heart, feeling around for the magical toll that was taken on my body when my father used the relic on me. Groaning I push open the door and stumble out of the lab to search for any of the Avengers. All of the sudden I fall forward just as I enter the living room, hitting my left shoulder on the hardwood and consequently announcing my presence to the entire base when I scream out. Rolling onto my back I pant from the pain and close my eyes.

“Shit,” a voice grumbles. I listen tiredly to the person’s footfalls as they race towards me. “Y/N, are you okay? What are you doing up?” Recognizing the voice as Steve’s I wearily open my eyes and look up at him.

“I’m fine,” I remark. While I push myself up Cap keeps his eyes locked on me to make sure there are no more injuries.

“You were stabbed in the heart Y/N.” I wave away his worries and stand. Glancing around the base I look back towards Steve.

“If it were serious I’d be dead. Now, where’s Strange?” I inquire. He rolls his eyes and gets up as well. I wait patiently when he opens his mouth, only to be interrupted by someone else.

“He’s at the Sanctum,” Tony declares from behind me. My heart sinks as I turn around. His eyes trace the lines of my body to see if I’ve inflicted any more damage upon myself during my fall. I can’t help but clumsily back into a wall, hoping it may provide me with some stability.

My thoughts have become a whirlwind. The zealots already destroyed all of the sanctums, the one I created included. Stephen is defending his sanctum, leaving me with no mystical back up while I’m still weak from my father’s attack. Running my hands through my hair I shake my head, becoming completely inconsolable. Despite the haze of red building up over my sight, I can see the other heroes gathering in the living room. They stare unsurely as my panic attack progresses. Soon enough I have slipped down to the floor.

“How long?” I ask through my heavy sobs. Tony crouches down to my level so that he can look into my eyes. “How long have I been asleep?” I peek up at Tony through the curtain of tears that have fallen in front of my face. I watch hopelessly as Tony looks away, blatantly biting the inside of his cheek. Desperate for answers I reach out and grab his forearm. He gazes back at me hesitantly, an invisible weight hanging on his shoulders. In my mind, I can hear the murmuring of the bodiless voice from my dream.

“Three days until Dormammu comes for us.”

“Three days,” Tony finally answer. All the air in my lungs is abruptly sucked away from me, causing me to gasp. I’m at a complete loss for words as I try to catch my breath. Standing abruptly and ignoring the immediate head rush I suffer from, I walk towards the window. Tears still fall from my reddened orbs while I close my eyes and reach out.

Right away I appear in the foyer of Stephen’s sanctum. At least my conscious does. I twirl around wildly until I meet his eyes which glare right at me. Sighing, I rush towards him.

“Y/N, why are you-”

“Stephen, please listen,” I beg. “You need to come back to the base. Please, please, please come home.” While slurring my words Strange gently grabs onto my shoulders. He guides me backward slowly, probably realizing by now that this is only a mirage of myself and nothing more.

“I need to protect the Sanctum Sanctorum Y/N. Without it, the shield around the Earth will fall and Dormammu will arrive. You’re safe at the base,” he informs me. I shake my wildly, determined to show Stephen he's wrong.

“No, no Strange. They already destroyed it. The zealots moved it to me and when my father…” subconsciously I touch a hand to my heart, conveying my meaning by pointing out the cut, “the sanctums are destroyed and now Dormammu’s coming for me. Strange you need to come home and you need to help us. He's going to take the stone. He's going to remove any chance of you being able to beat him again.” I see the horror progressively settle into Stephen’s eyes as he understands that he was protecting the thing this entire time.

I sigh, completely relieved, when Strange raises his hand to finally utilize his sling ring. Shocking the both of us a thick, clear arrow flies straight past us before he can enter, subsequently ruining Stephen’s focus and the portal. We turn around simultaneously to be met with at least a dozen zealots who are all crafting the biggest bomb I've ever seen. Strange and I look on in terror as my father, who Stephen has not yet had to pleasure of meeting, steps forward, his wicked smile on display.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, shaking his head in disappointment. Without a second thought, I step towards Strange who glares at the man angrily.

“You have no right to call me that,” I growl, faking strength. “Why are you here? All the sanctums were already destroyed.” His smile grows wider and I feel myself visibly shrink at the sight of it. Strange must notice because his gloved hand finds my back.

“A lesson such as this one needs to be taught.” I swallow down my fear and narrow my eyes. Behind my dad, I can make out how the other zealots are preparing to drop the bomb.

“And that is?” I wonder, my voice overflowing with fear. I keep my eyes locked on my father though as creates a portal by his back and steps backward.

“Nothing is eternal.” The moment he and the portal disappears, the zealots drop their weapon. Acting purely on impulse, I swing my body around Stephen’s, covering him as much as I can from the blast that comes far too quick to be prevented. Right when the heat licks my back my conscious is shot back to my physical body though. The very second I realize what just happened a choked sob is released from my tight throat. My eyes look at my quaking hands, hoping that Stephen may just appear in my arms if I believe it enough but nothing happens. He doesn't return to my arms. He’s gone.

“No,” I begin crying again. “Nononono. Stephen please. You can't be gone.” Falling to the ground I think of all of the things I could've done differently so that the Sorcerer Supreme lived. There is so much. Even the smallest step may have lead to the survival of Doctor Strange. He’s gone now though and I can barely bring myself to look out of the window and towards my old apartment where I can see the dark dimension ripple open in the Earth’s atmosphere. I listen as the heroes around me try asking what the hell is going on but I feel too ruined by my own tears to answer any of them.

“Stephen,” I whimper into my hands, “You can’t have gone yet. I can’t do this without you. I don’t know how to be a hero. I don’t know how to save anyone. My-my magic. I can’t - please, please, please, please come home….”

At the edge of the base where Stephen’s shield has just fallen dozens of golden portals open letting loose Dormammu’s minions. I bow my head knowing that I have lost. From the moment I was born this was destined to happen. However hard I tried to be the hero, to prevent the monster I always felt within myself from rising, I was always destined for this. I lift my head sullenly and look at and upon the zealots. Even though I recognize one of the spells that is being conjured I don't bother fighting it. All I can do is watch as a wave of magic is produced from the zealot's hand, approaching the base quickly. I close my eyes when it hits, dreariness curling through my entire body to guide me to sleep.

_____________

My eyes blink open slowly, the image of destruction fading from my vision until I can only see the setting sun which ushers any warmth remaining in the world away from us. I groan and turn around slowly. The second I do I have to choke down a scream. Luckily it is reduced to a small whimper that doesn't shock the zealots in the base. I stare at each of the Avengers around me, all of which have been placed in some sort of cocoons that seem to be made of black tar. The closest to me is Tony whose barely begun getting wrapped up in the zealots magic. Gulping down my fear I look around the base to try and figure out an escape route. Everything is guarded though and my best bet is the sling ring I pray is still in my cardigan pocket.

Slowly as to not alarm any of the sorcerers, I reach into my pocket. I breathe a deep sigh of relief when I find the familiar cold metal tucked inside of the fabric. Pulling it out I glance around to make sure no one is watching me. When my eyes move sadly towards Tony again I find his glasses laying pathetically next to his head. Feeling that Friday may be helpful I quickly pull them onto my face but my eyes stay locked on Tony’s unconscious body.

“I promise I’ll do anything to save you,” I reassure him despite knowing that he won’t remember the vow.

“She's up,” a voice suddenly announces. I groan knowing my time is up and hastily create a portal beneath me. Before they can even come towards me I fall through and onto my bed. Golden sparks fall onto my face as I slam the portal shut.

“Friday?” I mumble tiredly. The orange glasses blink to life all of sudden and I can't help but smile.

“Y/N it appears the base is under attack,” she remarks. “Should I contact anyone for assistance.” I shake my head.

“No,” I grumble while pushing myself up. “We can't drag anyone else into this. Anyways,” I look out my window and at the darkening horizon, “I don't think there's anyone who can help.” There's a moment of silence as I stare up and all of the destruction. If the window was open I may be able to hear people screaming. I wonder what they're thinking right now. I wonder if they're hoping I'll come and save them all. I wonder if they're hoping Doctor Strange will save them all.

“What would you like me to do Y/N?” Friday asks softly. Despite her only being an AI she must be able to detect the rate at which my heart is beating, telling her to be patient with me.

“Pull up all live footage from the entire base on wall please,” I announce. She obliges while I push Tony's glass up so that they're resting on top of my head. I glare at the wall when I see the number of sorcerers guarding any entries, exits and even hallways in the entire base. Sighing, I look down at my sling ring. Everywhere I could've gone is out of the question now. The sanctums are destroyed, the base is under attack and even my apartment is demolished. I have nowhere to escape to.

Then my eyes land on one of the doors into the base. I watch in complete horror as Peter lands and shoots a web at the zealot standing in front of the entrance. My hands automatically fly upwards and before I can even process what I myself am doing a portal opens up right in front of Peter before he could possibly alert the entire base to his presence. He falls through and lands against me, still panting from the short fight. Feeling relieved I hug him into me, stuffing my face into his red suit to have as much contact with him as I can.

“Oh my god Peter,” I whisper before pulling away. “A-are you okay? You didn't get hurt right. W-what about May? May’s alright, right? God Peter, why did you come here? You're gonna get yourself killed.” My boyfriend pulls away from me, rips off his mask and looks into my eyes, just now realizing that it's me who's holding him.

“I came when I saw your apartment turn into a wormhole, Y/N. May had work today. What's going on? Where is everyone else?” I shake my head and embrace him again, still surprised that he’s here. That I still have him. Just from that thought alone, I kiss him, so content with his presence alone that I could get lost in it. I push away from him and look over to my wall.

“Dormammu has arrived,” I mumble, not removing my eyes from the screen to look at Peter. His frightened orbs have found the live footage though and he can barely muster his breathing to start again when he sees the zealots imprisoning the Avengers. We stand side by side, gaping at the ruin I have inflicted upon our world by only being alive. My hand finds Peter’s so that I can hold it close to me.

“What can we do?” Peter wonders. However much I want to give him an answer, positive or not, I can’t mutter any words. All I can do is stare sadly as that last cocoon is finished. Finally, I open my mouth to speak, only to be interrupted right away.

“Y/N sweetheart, why are you hiding?” Although his voice is as sweet as honey I recognize the sharp edge in it and it’s nearly enough to make me keel over. Peter is the first to turn around but I have to take a moment to compose myself before I looking my father in the eye. Automatically, Peter pulls me close to him, not needing anymore context to know that the man in front of us is my father.

“You’ve already won,” I claim while subtly flicking my wrist, creating a sharp, blue disk in my right hand. My father scoffs and shakes his head.

“You really think I’m that dumb Y/N? After teaching you everything you know?” he chuckles. I narrow my eyes back at him, knowing that what he just said is false. I surpassed him by the time I was seven and the only reason I would consider him a formidable opponent now is because of the dark dimension. All of the sudden the world shakes beneath our feet and I look out and towards the horizon. My jaw drops when I see thousands if not millions of corrupted zealots fly out of the growing dark dimension and into our world. Swallowing hard I squeeze Peter’s hand.

“Why go through all this trouble involving me?” I ask.

“You’re magic is like nothing Dormammu has ever seen,” he responds without a moment’s hesitation. I glower at him.

“My magic which was given to me because of the time stone.”

“Your magic which enhanced the time stone,” he corrects. I do my best not to let my intrigue show but my dad sees the interest blooming in my irises and takes it as his cue to continue. “You are not the first to harbor an infinity stone within you body Y/N. There have been others who possessed an entire stone inside of themselves yet gained no powers from it. You had untapped magic in you from the moment you were born. Not just from your Asgardian heritage either. Your magic was a gift from destiny itself and by fusing the time stone with it you were able to gain full access to its powers.”

I listen attentively, trying to comprehend what this all means. If what my dad says is true, I have powers that allowed me to use the time stone, not the other way around. Consciously, I look down at my shaking hands where I’m still tightly holding onto my conjured weapon.

“Why give this to me?” I wonder again, lifting my hands upwards to show them to all three of us.

“Your mentor is dead,” he confirms. My heart clenches in my chest and I have to grit my teeth together to compel my rising tears not to fall. “You’re the last thing that stands between Dormammu and the possession of this world.” I study him for a moment, knowing in my heart and soul that there is so, so much more he is refusing to tell me.

“Why not kill me now then?” I spit. “That would make this all so much easier.”

“Y/N, please,” Peter whispers next to me. I tighten my grip on his hand again as reassurances, hopefully informing him that he can trust me.

“Because Dormammu sees you worth keeping alive. Having your natural affinity for magic as well as the time stone remnants in his possession would be helpful in taking more worlds into his sanctuary,” he pauses, weighing his next words carefully. “And there is still a deal he must fulfill with me.” At this, my eyes hollow and my vision blurs. The world shakes again and I doubt that it is because of another wave of zealots entering the atmosphere.

“What did you do? What the hell kind of deal did you make?” I hiss at him, forcing myself to remain restrained so I don’t tear off my dad’s face. Peter’s fingers tighten around my own, probably feeling that if he doesn’t keep a hold of me I may just kill the monster in front of us the second I get a chance. Despite my seething rage, my dad smiles, content as well as sadness completely palpable in his soft expression.

“The happy kind,” he answers before raising his relic at Peter and I. “Before we get to that though… I have a job to finish.” Before his fingers even tighten on his relic completely, my hand flies upwards and over Peter’s chest. We’re both frozen as the sharp weapon hurtles towards his body as I begin conjuring a shield to protect Peter as much as possible. Moments before the forcefield is nearly closed the relic’s point slips past, slamming into the middle of my sling ring. I yelp and pull my hand away quickly.  A burning sensation splinters across the skin under the metal so I drop it into my other hand.

“Shit,” I whisper as I watch as the shape of the metal distorts until it has turned to dust in my palm. Swallowing down my fear I shove my hand into my pocket and let go of the glittering powder. Quickly, I look from my smirking father to Peter. Grabbing his hand again I allow the intensity to show through my once calm and collected facade.

“A good piece of advice,” I begin telling Peter while collecting as much magic within myself as possible, “do not let go of me.” Before Peter can respond I flash us out of my room and into the hallway. On either side of us is a zealot. The second before they can do anything I spin away from Peter and fling both neon blue discs away from me. They bounce against the walls wildly, my hands simultaneously controlling their motion as I sprint towards one of them. On my command, one flies into my hands. Not wanting to prolong this too much I run onto the side of the wall and fall back to the ground right behind the zealot. I quickly slam the disk into the back of their calf causing them to gasp before ripping it from their body and throwing it backward. By the loud grunt, I can tell that it must’ve hit its target.

I turn slowly from the collapsed body in front of me who is wincing from the injury I just inflicted upon them. For a moment I study the cut to make sure I didn’t hit anything that was too important and may cause her to bleed out. Sighing, I turn towards Peter who is crouched next to the young man I hit without even looking. I glance over him as well and by the looks of it, his injuries are not at all serious.

“Let’s go,” I assert to Peter and grab onto his bicep. He stands slowly and looks right into my eyes. I’m surprised to see admiration and amazement glowing in the warm brown of his irises.

“I didn’t think you could do that?” Peter beams a bit.

“I’ve never needed to,” I inform him quickly. When I hear the door to my room open I grab onto his hand and immediately break into a sprint. As we go my blue disks fly around the room, nicking zealots just enough to make them slow down or at most stop following us. All of the sudden Peter skids to a halt and I’m yanked backward. It takes me a moment to realize we’ve stopped. In front of me are all the different cocoons containing our heroes. I gulp down my guilt for just leaving them.

“We need to go, Peter,” I tell him shakily. His head suddenly snaps to the side to look at me, his admiration quickly turning into disappointment.

“What?” he questions, his voice faltering from shock. I grimace and turn towards the hallway where dozens of zealots are now approaching us.

“We can’t save them right now Peter,” I mumble guiltily while putting a half-assed shield around us. For now, it should protect us while I attempt explaining this entire situation to Peter. He furrows his brows at me and shoves me away.

“So that’s it!?” he shouts while throwing his hands up into the air. “You’re just going to fucking abandon everyone and go back to running?” Although I know his words are all just rooting from his fear the question is like a knife to the heart. Instead of letting the brave and confident facade fall though I stomp towards Peter and get close enough to him so that we’re eye to eye.

“I am not abandoning anyone,” I growl lowly, making the assertiveness in Peter’s eyes falter. “What I am doing, is buying us more time which we are tremendously lacking in so that we can come back and save all of their asses without getting killed or worse. Don’t ever- and I mean ever tell me I’m abandoning them Peter because I would run past my shield right now and attack every last zealot but I can’t.” I take this moment to pause and breath, barely glancing back to see that they have begun breaking through my force field. “Peter… I can’t do this without any sort of mystical backup and Strange-” My voice cracks suddenly. In a sad attempt to repair the break I wrap one of my free arms around my midsection.

“What happened to Strange?” Peter asks, seemingly frightened by the way my brave illusion so easily faltered at the mention of my mentor.

“He’s gone,” I confess weakly. “We are going to do everything we can to save them, Peter, because I love them all so, so much and the thought of losing anyone including you tears me apart. Luckily though, if Dormammu is as smart as I think he is, Tony, and Nat, and Cap and everyone will be kept alive because of that reason. That is only if we stay out of his grasp though and as much as I hate this, the only choice we have is running. We have to run until we somehow manage to escape their grasp and then we keep running until we find sorcerers who can help. All I ask of you is to trust me.” Extending my hand to Peter I pray that he takes it. For a moment he looks at my palm and then at one of the cocoons that’s closest to us.

“Please Peter,” I plead to him. “I can’t do this without you.” Finally, Peter turns back towards me, a calm look filling up his eyes. Confidently, he places his head in mine before yanking me towards him, pressing his lips into mine. We separate quickly, knowing that there’s no time to spare.

“I trust you Y/N,” he reassures me. I grin up at him and tighten my grip on my hand. “Now, where are we running to?” Slowly, I turn from Peter and look down the hall adjacent to us where Strange’s room is located. Remembering the cold blue hallway that I had fallen into an idea bursts into my mind and I twirl back towards Peter who is glaring at the zealots with a passion I’ve never seen before.

“Spidey,” I breath out, calling his attention back to me. With a quick and short glance, I look back at where the zealots are breaking through and automatically make eye contact with my father. He stares down at me a bit, making me feel small. Swallowing down the bitter taste in my mouth I turn away from him before it’s impossible and begin dragging Peter behind me. My blue blades come to life again and dive behind my head and towards the zealots so that we can escape in one piece.

The moment we reach Stephen’s room I swing the door open and both Peter and I dive inside. I don’t even hesitate for a moment, pulling Peter into what seems to be an infinite tunnel of blue, swirling lights. As we sprint my thoughts vacillate between the mind gnawing cold that has begun to spread through every nerve in my body, the hoard of zealots shouting for us and the feeling of Peter’s gloved hand in my own, constantly squeezing my fingers to make sure I haven’t gone anywhere. Soon enough my legs have begun burning and I almost feel the need to collapse onto the ground. Every time I fall back a bit Peter’s there to tug me forward though. My pants light up in the cold blue air, making it seem like I’m breathing fire. At some point, my vision goes blurry and I start getting hypnotized by the movement of the neon lights surrounding me as they begin spinning.

The wires combine into one though, creating a giant portal for Peter and me to enter a few hundred yards from us. Despite the angry fire within each of my limbs I run faster than I ever have, somehow managing to pass Peter in the process. Just when I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief I hear an odd whirring behind us. I take a quick peek to see the source of the noise and find myself stifling a groan of annoyance when I realize what’s happening.

Approaching us at an unbelievably fast rate are two dozen miniature bombs which were created to probably blow the portal apart before Peter and I could make it through. Acting hurriedly, I lift Peter’s wrist to my face and tear off the web shoot, earning myself a moan of disapproval from the Spiderman. Instead of apologizing though I shoot a web into the portal and whip around. Peter yelps because of the sudden change of direction and he barely gets to realize that we’re heading straight for the zealots when I hug him into my chest and flip the hallway, manipulating reality for the first time in six years with little to no effort.

In mere moments Peter and I are hanging from wherever the portal leads while the zealots and their bombs are still trying to comprehend what just happened. Smiling to myself I click a button on the side of Peter’s web shooters. We rush upwards through the cold air, our feet aimlessly dangling before gravity shifts again and we’re tossed through the portal and to safety… wherever that may be.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed and once again I’m really sorry about how delayed this chapter was 🖤🖤🖤

Tag List

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[mittensmorgul]

Hey! First off, love your blog... normally I just read everyone's meta but I've decided to join the party! Haven't seen much chatting yet about the ghost being a little boy, and trapped in a knife to boot. It seems like a pretty direct metaphor for Dean being trapped in a violent life and never really getting to be a kid, and that got set free a bit by living out a childhood dream with his heroes. For a sec I even thought the kid was a magical projection of Dean! I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Hey hi there! *pours cookies and plates up some tea for you*

*rereads*

*sorry for the mess, it’s early and I need more coffee*

I haven’t even looked at my dash since last night yet, so I don’t know if there’ve been multiple posts about this or not, but yes. Dean was weaponized (like the little boy’s ghost being trapped in that knife) from the time he was small. Like so many of the things that Dean is emotionally attached to-- Scooby Doo, his music that he grew up listening to in the car with his family, the things he clung to that WEREN’T hunting, and WEREN’T about just taking care of Sam-- those things were untainted by the horrors of hunting.

During the course of the series, a lot of the flashbacks we saw to his childhood involved those “moments of childhood happiness” being destroyed for him. Christmas (3.09) became a horrible memory of Sam learning about the supernatural and the truth about John. High school romance (4.13, 9.07) ended in pain and heartbreak. Even taking a break and doing something as simple and childlike as playing a video game for a few minutes nearly cost Sam his life and he was blamed for it by John (1.18). Scooby Doo, the fact it was always on wherever they ended up and the fact that the monsters they hunted always turned out to be (borderline incompetent) greedy humans in rubber masks... I mean for young Dean who lived in constant fear of REAL monsters, this was an oasis of escape like no other. He could pretend that it was all fake, that cheerful Fred’s terrible plans always ended up working out but in the most unexpected way, that he could swoop in and be the hero and save Daphne, that Velma was always right that it wasn’t a real ghost, that he could celebrate the win eating an impossible sandwich with Scooby and Shaggy...

But then the episode would end, everyone would live, the bad guys were in jail, and the Scooby gang drove away... and Dean would be the knife again.

This was what I wrote to Dori last night in the chat, but I think it (in a roundabout sort of way) goes to show this:

mittensmorgulI just want to write long meta on Dean's cursing, that goes from refusing to even say "ass" in the vicinity of the scooby gang, to blurting out sonofabitch when their innocence seems to be shattering, to telling Fred "Fucking right you can" that gets bleeped after the gang learns the truthand then Dean bothers to rebuild all their initial beliefs about their own reality that ghosts aren't real, and THEY BUY INTO IT DESPITE ALL OF THIS.

obsessionisaperfumeHe's able to recapture some of his childhood innocence.

mittensmorgulIt's like.. all the humans in the SPN universe who don't remember the weird stuff, like the apocalypse or anything, because they just... convince themselves it's not real and go back to their lives

obsessionisaperfumeYeah.

mittensmorgulthis episode is brilliantAnd self-aware Shaggy... the fact he broke his arm was what broke his suspension of disbelief

mittensmorgulFred's terrible trap that doesn't work, because they never work,

obsessionisaperfumeI want to look at Dean and Daphne, because that wasn't grown-up Dean, it was 14-yo Dean's idea of charming and shit.

mittensmorgulThis whole episode is fantastic

Because Dean DID try so hard to “play along” with the Scoobyverse rules. He was THRILLED to play along, even when Sam was initially tugging him back toward reality, pointing out there were no words in the newspaper, and immediately suggesting they try to find a way back to the real world. And I mean, Sam wasn’t wrong here, and he was pointing out legitimate clues that eventually DID help them figure out the truth of what was happening, but Dean just wanted to play along with the story as he’d known it.

He even recognized the episode they were in, knew the whole plot, knew what he thought SHOULD be happening, and did his best to play along. I mean, that had worked for them the last time they’d been trapped in a tv, right?

But unbeknownst to Sam and Dean, something of THEIR reality had been brought into the Scoobyverse with them. A real supernatural threat, in the form of a child’s ghost haunting a pocket knife.

(or... almost like the parts of Dean’s childhood he tried to leave behind every time he settled in to watch a half hour of Scooby Doo... this reality he’d always dreamed as a kid he could just escape into and leave his reality behind for a while, when he finally got a chance to do just that, he couldn’t escape entirely)

It’s as if no matter how hard he tried to keep the Scooby gang “pure and innocent” by keeping the truth from them, the truth arrived to smack everyone in the face anyway.

It’s fascinating to watch the Scoobys go from dancing at a malt shop with perfect hair, to slowly becoming more and more frazzled and “tainted” by Dean’s reality. It peaks at the Scoobys’ existential crisis moment, where TFW has to step in and literally equip them to handle this new twist in their reality. Dean STILL lets Fred enact his plan even though he knows (by the typical script of a scooby episode) will fail, but TFW have a backup plan to trap the real ghost-- away from the Scoobys.

And that’s where we first see the ghost’s real face. It’s not a huge, terrifying phantom, or even a bad guy in a rubber mask and tattered robe. The ghost is a small, green-eyed boy who’s scared and angry, who doesn’t want to be used as a weapon anymore.

Yeah... sounds an awful lot like Dean.

They promise to help the little boy’s ghost, but their last act in Scoobyland is to “put everything to rights.” The Scoobys are still terrified, frazzled, and broken by what they’ve learned and experienced. TFW, with the help of the little boy’s ghost, convince the Scoobys that they’d been right all along, it was just what they’d initially expected it to be, and there was no such thing as the supernatural.

They even visually represent this with the Scoobys “reassembling” themselves, Fred smoothing out his perfect hair and going right back to his cheerful positivity and Daphne going right back to chasing after Fred. Almost like as soon as they walked away from the Winchesters even the memory of their entire ordeal just ~faded away~.

Dean might be an adult now, who carries this knowledge of reality with him all the time, but he can now use knife as his own, how he chooses to, instead of being manipulated by outside forces for their own ends. He’s not trapped by it anymore the way the little boy is. Dean can use that knowledge to protect others, to keep others “innocent,” and to preserve this one small piece of his own childhood escapism just the way he remembered it.

But back in the real world, Dean can also help that little boy find peace. He might not be able to reunite him with his father, but he can free him from the evil guy who’d used him so horribly, and then with Sam and Cas’s help made sure the guy would be punished-- if not for the abuse of the little boy’s ghost, then at least for some of his more mundane crimes.

But DEAN will always be able to take the memory of their encounter with him. He had the experience of a lifetime, and the Scooby Gang might not ever realize it, but wow.

Sam incinerated the knife, freed the little ghost boy, and then Cas carried the burnt remnant of the boy’s suffering in his pocket. And Dean put on Fred’s ascot and got to act out that bit... 

(and then Cas reminded Dean he’s not a talking dog...)

Oh my god this episode has everything.

[primrose-path-of-dalliance]

Lotor?

ngl, i squealed when i saw this. i get to talk about My Boy!!!

thank you for the ask

(send me characters and i’ll give thoughts on them!)

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life

sorry, anti-lotor half of the vld fandom, but i love this guy to pieces and nothing y’all say can change that because 1. y’all’s attempts at critically saying he’s Bad are poorly done imo lmao, 2. i’m not so preoccupied with morality and purity culture that i stick my thumbs in my ears and try to shove plugs into other ppl’s ears, and 3. opinions are subjective.

like personally, i love complex characters set up as parallels and foils to major protagonists that are inherently anti-imperialist, archaeologists, and conservationists; are representative of a not-so-palatable reality of abuse survivorship; have issues of trauma, paranoia, and interpersonal defeatism; and are clearly being set up for a future arc that will be closely intertwined with said major protagonists—as well as driven by a deep, internal conviction and strength that has persisted against absolutely ridiculous odds—

but idk. your loss, i guess.

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang

aesthetically: gorgeous. but i am very ace.

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

don’t harangue me for not calling lotor a slytherin in case you support that side lol, but i read a really good meta on this a while ago that i agreed with here.

(gonna put the rest of this under a readmore since this gets to be A Lot.)

essentially, one of lotor’s core traits is the search for knowledge and scientific advancement for its own sake. there’s no way he doesn’t love learning—he spent centuries studying a culture that was extinct, a culture that by any imperialistic measures was worthless and weak because it opposed the empire and it was destroyed. one could hardly believe he began searching for the last remnants of altea for power or ambition. he studied them because he wanted to, for the sake of it, to connect to something that’s part of him.

in a lot of ways, he does exemplify slytherin traits—he can be exceptionally ruthless when he believes he or things/people he cares about are threatened, he is unusually preoccupied with a need for power and control, and his goals could be considered lofty and ambitious. however, much of these traits and desires can easily be linked to his trauma. one might make an argument that he’s still similar enough to honerva to qualify as a slytherin, but personally i think the story sets him up as opposing haggar without hypocrisy in too many ways to be persuaded.

(honerva wanted to continue her research despite the risks, endangering an entire planet and potentially the universe, because she saw the research as empowering. she saw her research—her own ambitions—as more important than anything else, and abandoned ethics like some burdensome shackle. but lotor is seen multiple times as unwilling to endanger people and planets for his goals without either being reasonably assured of their survival (such as voltron) or their consent. he despises cruelty and the taking away of others’ agency.)

in an ideal world, i think lotor would be an obvious ravenclaw. but his trauma has encouraged him to act like a slytherin.

best quality:

superficially: HIS NERDINESS. as soon as lotor started talking about ancient ruins, learning other cultures’ customs, and rattled off an entire poem he memorized off some old-ass cave wall he probably saw like 3 centuries before, i was absolutely done for. i had been trying to maintain my skepticism of him for skepticism’s sake, but god. you can’t just throw a goddamn archaeologist in my face and expect me to not fall deeply in love.

more seriously: i love lotor’s conviction. lotor has a strong sense of self, morality, and personal drive, especially for someone with his experiences.

he accepts and embraces both sides of his heritage as defining parts of who he is. in an empire that despises altean blood, he wields an altean broadsword, spends centuries studying what’s left of the culture, and openly admires the peace, people, and traditions of altea past. and in a castle of paladins and alteans, he demands to be judged “by [his] actions, rather than [the] preconceptions of [his] race,” knowing full well that team voltron perceives him as galra, and failing to inform them of his altean blood despite the clear benefits that would’ve come from doing so.

he has a code of conduct that’s repeatedly shown in sharp contrast to the ideals of the empire—even from his very introduction, when he stands in front of an entire arena of galran soldiers and refuses to compromise his own morals for a more rhetorically effective argument. lotor’s small, four-person team of generals (compared to the typical galran fleet) seizes an entire planet while killing no one and causing virtually no destruction.

he is also incredibly self-motivated. lotor has lived for centuries relying almost completely on himself, and he will ruthlessly protect himself and his own.

his inner strength is ridiculously admirable, and i love his self-assurance.

worst quality:

idk? usually ppl say flaws or some such here, but the problem is that flaws are more complicated than just “they do dumb things because of this adjective.”

also i love flaws. they’re born of the essence that makes a character who they are. hating their flaws is ridiculous.

with that said……..

fucking hate lotor’s hair. seriously, wtf? he can tuck all of it into his helmet and have it all fall back out nice and neatly. HOW. it’s the biggest lie of the entire show alongside allura’s bun. it’s just not possible and i hate that lotor defying reality just to look beautiful is Canon.

his butt cape. like akjhdkhgkghjgk,,, a genuine BUTT CAPE. for what purpose?? preference??? drama???????? i’ve seen comparisons to honerva’s own butt cape back when she was a normal empress-consort scientist on daibazaal, which makes sense since lotor loves making Fashion Statements, but god. a butt cape.

what on god’s heavenly green earth is up with his swordsmanship? the acrobatics and the flourishing are positively ridiculous. who the fuck actually tries killing a powerful emperor and their abuser by smashing them from above with a purple final fantasy sword like they’re the hammer and zarkon is a nail. lotor is unrealistic.

ship them with:

:)

recovery and happiness.

brotp them with:

his generals. DUH. it’s clear that they’ve had a strong history together, and it’s impossible to have their relationship end here without any sort of resolution or confrontation about narti’s death. let them reunite under conciliatory terms. let them be friends again. (and let sincline return.)

allura for sure!!! their relationship development has been beautiful so far and i want to see that continue.

coran. they’re both Nerds. plus, one of them got to experience a full and long life on altea. let them talk.

the paladins in general. it might be difficult, slow-going, and hesitant/full of suspicion on both sides, but god—just imagine if they were friendly. (plus it would do worlds of good for lotor. he’s a lonely man, and it would even more clearly distance him from comparisons to zarkon.)

the blade of marmora (and keith). the show has said nothing so far, but i refuse to believe that in the past centuries, lotor and the blade have never interacted or crossed paths before. i can imagine why they would’ve been uninterested in alliance with each other, but i can also imagine what would make each appeal greatly to the other. let them interact. (as for keith, he and lotor have a lot of similarities. it’s real funny how similar allura, keith, and lotor all are to each other, really. hm.)

needs to stay away from:

haggar. she’s fake as hell and evil to boot. some ppl think that she’s reawakened some kind of dormant love in her for lotor after regaining more memories in s5, but that’s far from the case. someone who’s become and lived as she has for 10,000 years doesn’t suddenly care well about someone she’s abused horribly because she realizes she gave birth to them, and doesn’t suddenly become sympathetic in the good way because she’s “motherly” now. (not if the writing’s supposed to be decent, anyway.) she realizes lotor’s about to die and does absolutely nothing else except turn on the magic shiro television in her lab. she only finds out after the black bayard exchange has already happened, and she’s haggar. if she really wanted to stop what was happening, she could’ve done a lot more than just watch through shiro’s eyes. she’s a horrible person, folks, and lotor would do best to never see her again. (unfortunately, it’s much more likely that she will fuck his shit up some more next season. rip.)

zarkon. hopefully he actually stays dead this time, but i’ve seen some good points on how sketchy his ability to stay dead is. nevertheless, all memory of him deserves to be banished to the nether realms. lotor should never have to deal with that asshole’s legacy again.

misc. thoughts:

anyone who talks about lotor getting/not getting/deserving/not deserving a redemption arc makes me lose my shit because he hasn’t even done anything to warrant a redemption arc in the first place like tbfh. evil deeds whomst?? trying to kill voltron when?? where are these receipts of malice??? he’s never done an evil damn thing but y’all humoring the concept anyway. smh.

anyway, lotor needs a therapist, healing, and some good fucking friends. @dreamworks give lotor a recovery arc 2k18.

[olympus-summit]

Family, and the Journey to It || Menai || Trial 6.4 || Re: Setsuna, Rusty, The Doctor, Elliot, Nemesis, Shinobu,

Honestly, it had been her plan to keep her mouth shut after a point. If the crowd really was going to just…continue this aggression, then why a should Menai bother? There wouldn’t have been a point to it, when nothing said would really change anything. At least, Menai had been convinced of that at first. But….Shinobu was asking a fair question there. She knew…a lot, sure, but she doubted people understand how it worked. She…Owed certain people that much, anyways.

“I learned around the time of the 4th motive given to us. Before then, I was…acting in my own interests, really. I got a letter from Monty. In it, Prometheus contacted me, saying that in exchange for my services, I would be given the chance to have Shira take over as the rightful ruler of Nishral, without the stupid fucking wedding clause or any other bullshit her parents wanted to unload on them. And there was a photo - fake of course, but how would I know- of her being so happy. That’s…all I wanted.”

Menai shifts in her seat, slightly, holding onto Zunshayn.

(Tw: Mentioned neglect, implied emotional abuse) “I never really..got how she and David were related to the tyrants on the throne. They hated the system as much as I did, probably. Probably even more, considering they watched their parents choose to massacre people for the sake of propaganda while making their faults clear and never really being there unless it was status related. Shira was…She deserved better. She was usually so bright and happy. She cared a lot. She deserved to be on the throne, because I have no doubts she’d perfectly carry us into a golden age. That’s just who she was.”

It’s a good thing nobody can see the blush on Menai’s face, thanks to the throne.

“The reason I became a revolutionary in the first place was for her. Not entirely, because I was…treated like shit due to my status as an Outskirter, to say the least, but a lot of it was her. She never wanted to be wed- said she never felt that way towards anybody and never would. There’s probably a word or phrase not in Nishral for that but…She was so miserable. She just,..broke. I had never seen anything like that, and it was too much. So I wanted the revolution, and I wanted to just…grab Shira before and run. But with Prometheus’ offer, I had a better, safer way to do things.“

There’s another shift, Menai slowly looking down, just in case, to hide the last remnants of the blush that was previously overtaking her features.

“But…You can be mad at me for this, but it felt like most of the time Monty and Claire treated me better than…most of the Council. I didn’t grow the spine to state my opinions because of the Council, it was because of them. And soon it just….It felt like family, back when it was David, Shira, and Menai. Before David ran, understandably. The fact was, I also…felt closest to Elliott, out of everybody. He was a brother to me, and I am aware of the irony. So when he revealed himself, I trusted him with no hesitation. The…trial results were a shock, admittedly, after. I still…Most of what happened there was me genuinely freaking out. I’m sorry for any harm I caused there too.”

There. She’s said it. This is their family now. This is what helped keep them going, despite everything. They don’t expect any sympathy for that, but at least they got the chance to just be honest and speak their mind for once here. They were going to be hated anyways, so no point in hiding anything.

“I’m happy the game is over. I’m genuinely relieved. I wouldn’t have interfered though. I…It was necessary.“

Hearing Setsuna is…a welcome surprise, really. One which causes Menai to smile slightly. It’s…She’s worried how the others might react, but it’s nice that Menai apparently isn’t considered a monster entirely. And then Rusty follows, and it takes Menai a few minutes to realize she’s tearing up, overwhelmed from all that’s happening during this trial.

“I’m sorry too.” There is no justification for it. There never will be. That doesn’t mean Menai can’t begin their remorse now, when people deserve it.

Of course, any traces of that mood is destroyed the moment Elliott makes that offer. Lightning fast, Menai stands up, moving a few steps towards Elliott, their now visible face clearly assessing the threat level of everybody in the room. Zunshayn, on the floor by their side, starts spinning in a circle, just as ready to act.

“Try it. Any one of you try it.“

As far as they were concerned, it was an execution as soon as it happened, and Menai was no longer bound to act civil as they had been should somebody stab their brother.

They may not be a bodyguard, but they still had enough training to justify easily coming to the defense of the people they cared about, and then some.

[ppdoddy]

Wynton Marsalis

With the crescendo of public outcry and proliferation of opinions and justifiable expressions of outrage by so many experts, officials and popular celebrities, I fear there’s little room or need for yet another person voicing a commonly held opinion. I also believe that the everyday tragedies that are commonplace and routine to our everyday way of living, should be addressed when they happen, not when so much pressure has built up in the system that it must be let out. It’s also much more difficult to draw a crowd every day for the sanctioned and accepted forms of corruption and disrespect of Black Americans that are shouted from countless recordings and videos and even more powerfully whispered in the form of discriminatory laws, practices and procedures that result in unfair housing and employment practices, and more tragically, lengthy unjust prison sentences.

Much of this “cacophony of crazy” is executed officiously and with a warm and innocuous smile. Therefore, Americans of all hues pass quickly from anger to acceptance, and as months turn to years, our daily silence and inaction is willfully misread as endorsement and back we go to go the illusion that “we’re past this”, because the daily grind is more important than what we find if we just open our eyes and keep them open.

This particular tragedy, however common it’s become across these last decades, is perfectly symbolic of this specific time and place. And this global pandemic has given it a clear and more pungent stage. This murder is so distinctive because of the large size and gentle nature of the man who was murdered, because of the smug, patient and determined demeanor of his killer and of the other peace officers protecting the crime in full public view, and because our nation is always attempting to escape its original sin with the loud shouting of other serious, though less egregious, transgressions. This fully recorded public execution yet again demands our full attention and interest, IF we have the slightest remnant of belief in the morality, reason and intelligence required to realize, maintain and protect a libertarian democracy.

In each of the four decades of my adult life, I have addressed our myriad American social and character problems with an involved piece that always defends a belief in the progression towards freedom that my parents taught us was perhaps possible for all. Experientially, artistically, and spiritually, I’ve had a lifetime relationship - akin to obsession - with confronting this national calamity and conundrum.

As these decades have passed and our nation has retreated from the promises of the Civil Rights Movement that my generation grew up believing would substantially improve economic and social opportunities for those who had been denied by our ‘traditions’, I have spoken, written, played and composed about the toll that American racial injustice has taken on all of us—our possibilities, our presence and our promise. Those words, notes and more seem to have been wasted on gigs, recordings, in classrooms, in prisons, in parks, on tv shows, in print, on radio and from almost any podium from the deep hood to palatial penthouse in cities, towns and suburbs in every state and region of our country day and night and sometimes deep into the night for over 40 relentless years.

Just yesterday, I was walking with my 11-year-old daughter and she asked me, “Did you see the video of the man in Minneapolis?” “Yes” I said. I always talk to her about history and slavery and all kinds of stuff that she is not interested in - and probably overdo it for that reason. She asked, “Why did the man just kneel on him and kill him like that in front of everybody?“ Instead of answering I asked her a question back, ”If I went out of my way to squash something that was harmless to me, and stomped on it repeatedly and deliberately to make sure I had killed every drop of life in it, and then looked defiantly at you, as if triumphant. Why would I do that?” She said, “You hate bugs.” I laughed and said, “Let’s say it’s not necessarily a bug, just whatever I go out of my way to utterly destroy. Why would I?” She said, “Because you can.” “Yes,” and I further asked, “Why else?”

“Because you want to”, and then I said “Yes, but can you think of another more basic reason?” She thought for a while and just couldn’t come up with it. I kept it going saying and aggravating her,” It’s one of the most important ones.” After a few minutes she rolled her eyes and said, “Just tell me.” I debated with myself about telling her this last reason since it’s almost always left out of the national discussions when these types of repeated crimes by our peace officers are committed, but I figured, it’s never too early to consider the obvious. So, I said, “Because he enjoyed it. For him, and for many others, that type of thing is fun. Like them good ole boys in Georgia chasing that brother through the neighborhood to defend themselves.” It’s no more complex than that. She said,” hmmmmm....” unconvinced. And I said, “this type of fun is much older even than America itself.” I considered how different her understanding is of these things, if only just because of time, place and experience.

During my childhood, raw racism and pure absolute ignorance was just a fact, but so was enlightened protest and determined resistance. It was the times, the 60’s going into the 70’s. With our Afros and the consciousness music of James Brown, Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder, younger brothers were determined not to put up with any bullshit at all, unlike our ancestors, who we felt had willfully endured and accepted disrespect. And it was so easy to believe they were acquiescent in their own degradation because we didn’t know anything about the deep deep sorrow and pains of their lives, because they bore it all in silence and disquieting shame. Now, those old folks are long gone, and each passing day reveals the naïveté of our underestimation of the power and stubbornness of our opponent. Now, our ancestors loom much larger albeit as shadowy premonitions in the background of a blinding mirror that is exposing us all, black and white.

Racist mythology, social inequality, and economic exploitation used propaganda and physical lines of demarcation to create and enforce a state of mind. It was called segregation. Because my parents grew to adulthood in it and I was raised in it, I unknowingly believed in it, and even referred to myself as a minority. The late Albert Murray, my mentor and intellectual grandfather in Harlem, New York, dissuaded me from the segregated mindset with a penetrating question, “How are you going to accept being a minority in your own country? Is an Italian a minority in Italy?”

Well, let’s see. That’s a question our country has to ask itself. If we are plural so be it. But we aren’t. We are segregated in so many more ways than race and if we are to be integrated, a nasty question remains: whose genes will recede and whose will be dominant? Who is them and who is us? Mr. Murray once told me, “Racial conflict in America has always been black and white versus white.” We see that in the current riots that have sprung up around the country. There are all kinds of folks out there and always have been. Any cursory viewing of protests in the 60’s reveals Americans of all hues.

But when all is said and done, and all the videos and photos become just a part of a protester’s personal narrative kit to be pulled out for kids and grandkids as a testament of their youth. When the enormous collective wealth of America passes from one generation to the next, who of our white brothers and sisters now so chagrined will be out in the streets then? Playing loud defiant music in your bedroom means one thing at 15, but it’s very different when it’s your house. Who will be out there making sure that their darker-hued brother and sister in the struggle has enough opportunity to feed their family, and a good enough education to join the national debate to articulate an informed position in their fight for their rights and responsibilities and the financial security to enjoy older age with the comforts of health, home, and happiness? If the 80’s Reagan revolution is any indication, don’t hold your breath for the “post racial America” that we were supposed to have achieved without having corrected or even acknowledged any of the real problems.

The whole construct of blackness and whiteness as identity is fake anyway. It is a labyrinth of bullshit designed to keep you lost and running around and around in search of a solution that can only be found outside of the game itself. Our form of Democracy affords us the opportunity to mine a collective intelligence, a collective creativity, and a collective human heritage. But the game keeps us focused on beating people we should be helping. And the more helpless the target, the more vicious the beating. Like I was trying to explain to my daughter, something just feels good about abusing another person when you feel bad about yourself.

We can’t be feeling that good about our nation right now. Separated by wealth disparity, segregated in thought and action, poorly led on the left and on the right, confused in values of institutions and symbols of excellence, lacking in all integrity from the highest to the lowest levels of government, undisciplined in exercising the responsibilities of citizenship, disengaged and overfed on meaningless trivia and games, at each other’s throats all the time for every issue. We seem to be at a dead end.

It’s funny to think this whole experiment in democracy could end with a populace that is so polarized and self-absorbed that it can’t imagine atoning for the slavery and subjugation of other human beings and sharing enormous wealth (financial and other) with each other. But it wouldn’t be that surprising, because no matter how many times we find ourselves with the opportunity to right tremendous wrongs, we just keep coming up with the same wrong answer. It’s like having the solution to a math problem, not knowing the underlying mechanics to actually solve it, and lacking the patience and humility to ask for help-to learn. It’s the damndest thing to just keep doing the same wrong thing over and over again, and more forcefully wrong each time......or maybe, that wrong answer we keep coming up with—maybe it’s just who we actually are.

Life is not a book or a movie. It is itself much too complicated and simple to be understood from any one person’s perspective. Its truths come to their own conclusions that live as facts though lies may stand as temporary history. But George Floyd lying in the cold cold ground at this moment is a fact, as was the fact of Eric Garner and all of the other Americans who didn’t deserve to be killed by their peace officers. The murders of both men are eerily similar. And they, taken together though almost six years apart, are not even a referendum on the offending officers, but a view into how we can’t get past the illegality and illegitimacy of our courts and our politics that snatched back the North’s victory from the South in the Civil War. This successful legal and political wrangling to recast slavery as peonage and to maintain an underclass is still going on. Its victories, in effect, spit on the graves of 700,000 Americans lost on both sides in that conflict. And we refight our Civil War every day. It was interesting hearing Keisha Lance Bottoms, the Mayor of Atlanta and Killer Mike both reference the Civil War, the Civil Rights Movement and this moment in one breath. They put this present moment in its proper context – a continuation of the struggle for human rights and civil liberties against the legacy of slavery and unapologetic racism.

These were Abraham Lincoln’s thoughts on slavery:

“I hate it because of the monstrous injustice of slavery itself. I hate it because it deprives our republic an example of its just influence in the world, enables the enemies of free institutions with plausibility to taunt us as hypocrites, causes the real friends of freedom to doubt our sincerity, and especially because it forces so many really good men among ourselves into an open war with the very fundamental principles of civil liberty, criticizing the Declaration of Independence, and insisting that there is no right principle of action but self-interest.”

Notice the list of corruptions that Lincoln laid out 160 years ago - there is no better definition of our current position. He must have come up out of the grave to tell us yet again. Sad as it is to say, contemporary Americans just may not be up to the challenge of democracy. A lot of countries in the world seem to be openly retreating from it. But that open retreat will be different here, for our credo of equality, freedom and the dignity of persons requires us to construct elaborate ways of eliminating stubborn problems that we seem to not have the will, wherewithal, and humanity to solve.

And it’s the slow, slow choke out of everything black: that fake construct of blackness that was invented in America for the express purpose of elevating an equally fake whiteness; that blackness that has been parodied and mocked and shamed, been raped and robbed and lynched, cheated and fooled and straight up hustled into slapping itself under the banner of entertainment, still seeking the attention and resources of its masters by hating and disrespecting and killing itself; that omnipresent blackness to be named and renamed again and yet again for the purposes of denying its very name and birthright, that blackness that shows up in everything from a bowl of grits and a Southern twang to a whining rock guitar and a piece of fried chicken, to The Constitution itself. Yeah, choking all the blackness out is going to be hard. Because it shows up as state’s rights versus federal authority, as the root of the electoral college and as gerrymandered districts and the modern repression of some people’s right to vote. That inescapable blackness is always a primary subject in the discussions that elect Presidents where it shows up as immigrants, criminals, and disavowed preachers. It’s clearly seen every day and night in our richest cities staggering down the streets in a tattered stupor with a sign saying, “do you see me?” and bearing the dates 1835, 1789, 1855 and all of those slavery years. And all those ghosts remind you that we rolled back Reconstruction, we denied the Afro-American heroism of WWI with the segregation of WWII, that we denied our citizens access to equal funding and equal housing and equal education and equal health care and equal opportunities and that we rolled back the gains of the Civil Rights movement under on the very watch of many of us that are alive to read this post. And that at each broken promise, said with a smile, “fare thee well brother, fare the well”.

That slow choking of all the blackness out of the American DNA will prove to be impossible because we are written into the original Constitution – albeit it as 3/5ths of a person. Black folks’ struggle, more than any other, has advanced the integrity of that document down through these bloody centuries. The challenge that faces our country now is what it has always been: Can we reckon with the idea that the opposite of injustice is not justice, it is corrective assistance. The question that continues to plague us across centuries, decades, years, months, days, hours, minutes and even seconds: Do we have the will and the intention to get that 3/5ths up above 5/5ths and create a productive society the likes of which has never been seen?

One thing I know for sure, that’s not ever going to happen with your foot on a black neck, and I’m not talking about the most current, obviously guilty police officer. This is about all of us rejecting the injustices of our collective past with consistent and relentless individual action that goes far beyond giving money.

This has been my response to injustice in our country and in the world across the last forty years:

Black Codes (1984); Blood on the Fields (1997); All Rise (1999); From the Plantation to The Penitentiary (2006); and The Ever Fonky Low Down (2019)

– Wynton