#is she able to talk to her in dreams? talk in her mindscape?

[ethereance]

Au where post canon Allura gets sent back in time to s1. Or so she thinks at first. But because she has no body in her own reality, her quintessence latches onto the closest alternative the second she can return to the universe. The differences are subtle. But as time progresses they grow more apparent. Her ‘future’ knowledge isn’t quite so handy after all.

[1800dustbunny]

i have more lore ab my GF sona

unsure of her first name but her last name is Digon (look up the meaning of that word lol) she was blessed with prophetic dreams from a higher power that slowly manifested to the point she is able to perceive the mindscape and, more importantly, see bill. she ended up thinking she was insane because of Bill. her eyesight got gradually worse the more her powers manifested. (for context to the art: the doctor is talking about her to Ford behind a two way mirror)

[iihauntedmuffinii]

A Breath of Fresh Air (The Boys Fanfic)

SUMMARY

Daphne Bennett is a psychiatrist for kids in the foster system. She relies on her powers to help her clients unlock their traumas and emotions in a safe space. Unlike most superheroes, her powers come with a price. She is losing control of her body's health and mental state and sadly, her usual tricks aren't working. When the fluctuations in her powers are too painful she decides it's time to try and find a cure. A cure that she thinks resides center focus on The Seven. Through odd circumstances she is placed near the famous superhero team and their loose cannon of a leader, Homelander.

I have a Spotify playlist associated with the story, so if your interested, and don't care about chapter title spoilers I recommend checking it out.

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST:

CHAPTER FOUR: Second Wind

His emotions tumble into me wave after wave and I’m drowning in a memory, lost to the physical realm once again. His mindscape was darkness and nothing else. I was floating amidst the dark waves barely able to keep myself above water.

“Black Noir!” I scream out into the nothingness. The abyss that looked down at me gave me no sign of hearing my pleas. The waves tossed and turned me around, spinning me underneath the depths until I was dizzy. I surface back up, struggling to breathe through the sloshing depths. “Please! Black Noir! Speak to me, Noir!” I scream out into the nothingness once more.

The nothingness doesn’t speak back. It feels like an eternity before a flicker, a sparkle, streaks across the black abyss above me. Memories wash over the sky as if I was watching an old movie in a theater. Sitting in a comfy seat with a bag of popcorn at my side, nice thought, but instead I was drowning in darkness. 

The memories unfold with precise clarity.

“Erving! Erving! Gosh, where are you Erving…” A clear melodic voice yells out across Buster’s Playhouse, the children playing all around her didn’t help the search. Her son is not anywhere to be seen from her perspective. The playhouse setting is exactly what'd you'd expect from a children's playhouse to be. Full of colorful games and mascots that were dancing their own tunes. Cheap pizza and ice-cream cake served at every table. It was a dream location for a child's birthday party. Though for Erving this dream will soon turn into a nightmare.

Erving can hear his mom calling for him. Struggling to find him. When his mom brought Erving to Clint's birthday party--without a direct invitation from said birthday boy, she never thought that would matter. Erving's mom didn't know how cruel children could be. Erving knew the invitation was only given to him because his cousin Benji was invited, and that only made it more awkward for him. He didn’t know anyone but his cousin and the mascots at Buster’s Playhouse. His mom and aunt just wanted shy Erving to break out of his shell.

Erving wanted to introduce himself to the birthday boy, Clint. He was so cool. He had a skateboard and his mom never let him get a skateboard. She always complained about how they were deathtraps on wheels, but Erving just thought his mom's prerogative was to worry about everything . Erving still imagines how cool it would be to be friends with someone who can ride a skateboard. Benji thought he was cool too. Benji talked about Clint all the time and now seeing him in person Erving can see why.

Those happy thoughts of being friends with such a cool kid were bashed into bits the moment he was pinned on the floor of the ball pit by the birthday boy himself.

“Stop! Stop! Please, I can’t breathe!”

“Aww, little baby is going to cry in the baby ball pit!”

His heartbeat grows wild and his breathing slows, time stands still, for little Erving. He feels his body move before his brain can comprehend what’s happening. As if possessed by instinct he grabs the boy's grubby hands and clenches them so tightly he can feel the bones crack beneath the skin. The birthday boy screams so high pitched and full of pain it causes his voice to crack. Erving throws him across the pit and the birthday boy falls head first into a sharp corner of the ledge. His head slams, a resounding crack echoes across the room making Erving go still.

Clint’s body was stuck firmly to the ledge, laying half in the ball pit and half out. His skull fragments and flesh deeply morphed around it. The skin connected to the nape of his neck and head was visibly peeled open, layers of folded skin revealing a gaping bloody hole within. The blood was pooling over, spitting sporadically and splashing wildly covering walls, the colorful ball pit slowly turning a dark shade of red. A blink and the entire room turns the same shade of disgusting red .

Erving’s eyes grow wide and he finally feels like he’s regained his breath. His irises’ blow out  and his nostrils flare, but he makes not a single sound. His instincts take hold of him and he scrambles out of the ball pit and up the twisting red slide. He slips over and over as he climbs up the winding slides, leaving blood smears in his path.

He doesn’t know how but he’s made it to the far back of the tunnels where the window attached to the tube system was. It showcased all of the cast from Buster’s Playhouse. He couldn’t focus on any of those details at this frozen moment in time. He tightly put himself into the fetal position, trying to become as small as possible.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, everything is okay…” Big fat teardrops stream down his face without Erving’s consent. His tiny hands grip his knobby knees so tightly his knuckles grow pale. The blood spackled across his body sang to him. Reminding him of what he’s done. What Erving didn’t know was that it was about to get a whole lot worse.

“It’s okay, Erving. You didn’t mean to hurt Clint. You were just trying to protect yourself.” The recognizable and boisterous voice from the iconic titular character Buster spoke. The voice sounded like it came from right beside him, but as he looked around no one was there. But that wasn’t completely true.

There was a highly detailed mural framed by the window connected to the slide tunnel, and the mural was a cute depiction of Buster with all of his pals. Erving blinked past his tears and stared hard at the mural, not looking away for even a second. Not even when he heard the screams of people down below. Someone found Clint.

“It’s okay Erving, we know you didn’t want to hurt Clint.” Buster’s voice was more clear this time. Looking now straight at the mural he could see that Buster’s mouth was moving. “We all know you wouldn’t do harm to anyone on purpose.” The cartoon character, Buster and all of his animal friends nodded along with that statement. Erving eyes turn into saucers and his mouth drops open not able to hold in his gasp.

“R-Really?” Erving's tears stop as he gently touches the window. Blood smears across it blurring the mural's visage.

“Erving, you're a nice and funny kid. You wouldn’t hurt anyone, would you?” Buster asks him with cheer and happiness radiating from the mural.

“No! No, I didn’t mean to…” His head is shaking back and forth, his tight knuckle grip does not relent.

“There, there Erving. We're here for you no matter what. That's what friends are for, right?”

“We a-are f-friends?”

“Of course!” This time all of the voices of Buster’s Playhouse joined in. The mural was still, and what Erving imagined to be moving wasn’t anymore.

“Erving! Erving, where are you?” His mother’s voice pierced through his skull with striking clarity. Looking through the window he had the perfect vantage point to see the chaos unraveling below him. Because of him.

Parents were running out with their children and others were screaming at employees. A police officer was already on the scene, and it looked like he wasn’t the only one now patrolling. His mother was in the center of it all. She had tears streaming down her face and she was clutching Erving’s bright red baseball cap, it was her only life line. 

He knew what would happen when she figures it out. She would hate him. She would send him away and never talk to him again. That’s exactly what would happen. He was sure of it, and sadly, he was right.

He was found frozen in the slides by one cop, and the blood all over him gave them enough to know what happened. A kid who developed powers and killed another kid by accident. A horrible tragedy that was becoming more frequent these days. Sadly, Erving being black didn’t help his case when the authorities decided he was a public danger if untrained. So, he was to be separated from his family and shipped off to be trained by his sensei.

And he started his career as Black Noir off of the tragedy that was Clint’s murder. The black water washes over me but I can still breathe. My eyes open slowly and all I see is Black Noir.

Are you okay?

“I’ll be fine.” The coughing fits begin and the rattling of my lungs makes breathing feel like I’m being electrocuted from the inside. The blood spills out of my mouth before I can reach for my handkerchief. I lift half my body upright, ignoring the dizzy spell as I reach for my purse. I focus all my energy on finding my medication. I weakly grab the now almost empty bottle laying in an interior purse pocket and pop a pill into my mouth swallowing it dry. “Now, would you like me to call you by your given name or by your superhero title?” I refocus on Black Noir, needing to concentrate on anything but myself. 

He doesn’t answer at first, instead he reaches slowly into my purse, and hands me my handkerchief. I take it numbly, not knowing how to quite fathom or respond to the kind gesture. I hold it dumbly in my hand, not moving to clean my face. He grabs it from me, making me flinch in surprise. He wipes my face with light sweet touches, I could barely fathom how strongly his aura oozed patience. Finishing his cleanup he hands me back the handkerchief placing it delicately in my lap. It was soaked in blood.

You can call me Erving.

“R-right, Erving, I’m sorry about this.” I groan out pathetically, an ache that has been slowly healing is back in full force. I needed to stop getting myself into these situations.

Why are you sorry? You were only trying to help.

“No Erving, I shouldn’t have invaded your mindscape, at least not without permission first! I could have hurt you or myself in the process. I don’t know how…” I couldn’t finish my word vomit before Erving interrupted that train of thought.

No! You didn’t do it on purpose. And I wanted you to see it. What happened right now only makes me more determined to go to therapy. I want to be better.

“R-really? I-I mean that’s great! I just didn’t know how’d you feel…” I move one step forward on wobbly legs like a freshly birthed foal. Black Noir, like a gentleman, grabs my arm and helps to steady me. Someone so isolated is now touching me and showing me attention in a public setting. That feels poignant. A show of trust that was rarely given out by Black Noir.

It was something to treat with utmost care. It's important to nurture rather than stifle these connections and I think  Vought covets to destroy these type of healthy relationships. Not on my watch, not anymore. Black Noir–No Erving, was going to have a friend, a connection no matter what. That’s a promise I will make to myself. He holds my arm with such care, as if he was caressing a baby bird’s broken wing. His gentleness contrasted heavily with his dark figure and intimidating costume. But his bright sparkling aura gave his sweetness away.

I-I hope I didn’t scare you.

“You’d never scare me, Erving.” I whisper back, as quick as a cheetah on the hunt, not wanting him to fret for a second. We were in the elevator within a blur of people and time. Nothing quite felt real, and my powers felt off somehow. It felt muted almost. My extra dosage of medication plus overextending myself has made my powers fire back some odd side effects.

Good, that’s good. I scare most people.

“I know, Erving. You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.” I squeeze his supporting arm trying to bring as much warmth as I could into a single touch. His aura flares to life, content with the invasion of my powers.

The elevator finally dings on the 99th floor and we slowly head to my office taking one step at a time.  Passing the masterful portraits was intimidating every time, but the marble busts’ gave me goosebumps.

What you saw in my head was exactly how I remembered it, if not clearer.

“Before you ask, I don’t know how I did that, not exactly at least. I’ve only done it a few times and they have all been accidents.” 

I haven’t remembered that time for so long. I think you somehow unlocked that within me. You are the key to remembering myself.

“I want you to be comfortable and safe when we talk about these things. But that means we can’t do the mindscape nonsense again until I can fully control my powers. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” I whisper the last bit more to myself. I shouldn’t have said it at all.

I believe in you.

I stop dead in my tracks, not before fully turning the knob to open the door of my office.

“Really?” The hope dripping from my voice and my eyes didn’t leave his figure for even a second.

I believe in you and nobody, not even you, can change my mind.

“Seems like you have more faith in me than, well, me.” I shrug, self depreciation seeping from my voice. Opening the door to my office in full cheer after Black Noir’s assurance I see Ashley waiting, sitting ramrod straight on the luscious couch. My good mood was dashed at the sight.

“What were you thinking promising those funds for—” Ashley pauses mid rant, her mouth gaping wide like a fish out of water. “Black Noir! Ah, I mean Daphne, why didn’t you tell me you were accompanied by the esteemed Black Noir?” Ashley asks, her tone dripping with venom. Trying to peddle back her planned scream session, I’m sure. Who knew toting around a member of The Seven would come in handy. Strike that from the record brain–do not use the client’s status to get Ashley off your back. That would be selfish of me, but tempting.

“He was just being a gentleman and escorting me back to my office. He also agreed to schedule a session with me,” I elbow Black Noir in the gut not caring if Ashley was staring. “Didn’t you, Black Noir?” I give him one more pointy shove. He nodded aggressively in Ashely’s direction. Her mouth opens and closes over and over for at least a minute.

“Well, okay. I will see you bright and early tomorrow Mrs. Bennett.” She grinds out, just barely able to hold herself together. Her aura flashes red in anger and the embers and sparks flared to life like a wild fire. The taste of burnt toast took over my senses making me wince in disgust. She scampers out of my office as if staying any longer would give her a rash.

“That went better with you around. Thanks!” I place my hand gently on his.  I also wait for any indicator of him not wanting physical contact. He grips my hand tightly back, a sense of yearning for familiarity throbs within him. His strong emotional response flares his usually quiet soul back to life. The stars within his aura twinkles and dances so brightly it makes my head spin.

Anything to help. He gives my hand an awkward pat, not used to giving out affection, before closing the office door behind him. He tries to discreetly check the perimeters without me noticing. Always on high alert, it seems. 

“I knew you’d be a helper. We need to schedule an appointment for you. I didn’t just say that just to get Ashley to drop her mouth on the floor.” I ran over to my planner at my abrasive desk. I grab my inkwell and pen looking back at Noir, who hasn’t moved a muscle since closing the door. “Erving, you can choose whatever time you need. You get first dibs by the way! No one else has set one up yet…” I stammer off, a bright red flush taking over my face for the oversharing. 

Would Friday morning at 8am work? I have to go on a recon mission tomorrow, so I want to push it back to the end of the week.

“If you need to, we can always schedule it on the weekend. My schedule centers around you guys, not the other way around.” I want everyone to know that I’m serious about helping. It seems it’ll be difficult to convince anyone around here of that, other than Erving.

No, I would like Friday morning. 

“Alright, I’ve penned you in and now your first official session is scheduled.” I couldn’t help but cheerfully sing those words. It almost felt like a miracle.

It's late. I should take you home.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Erving! I don’t even live that far from Vought.” I huff a stray curl out of my face as I hurriedly grab my bag and papers from my desk, readying myself to leave. As I scramble around the office, tidying up before leaving, I look up to Erving holding out his arm. Waiting for me patiently, still and silent like a statue. I sight before relenting and grabbing his arm, squeezing it tight, I gently steer him outside my office and towards the elevator.

Entering the lobby with Black Noir on my arms feels rather odd. The few warry employees and random stragglers there also seemed to think it was odd, giving us a wide berth. I can feel all their eyes on us as we slowly walk out of the building, it has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. 

I call for a Taxi ignoring people walking past us with their phones out, not caring to ask for permission to get a photo. People walking by stopped abruptly gawking at the dark shadow standing behind me. I quickly–comically shove Black Noir into the Taxi before we cause an accident from the public spectacle. 

“Where to?” I give him my address and he floors it ignoring the both of us, like a true professional. 

You are uncomfortable.

“I’m not adapting very well to the new job requirements, I guess. You know, all the attention and publicity really isn’t my thing.” I begin to aggressively scratch at my arm as I try to get the goosebumps to go away. 

Understandable. It’s something I always wanted, I think. I can feel it almost. Like I wanted to be seen.

“Do you remember that feeling coming from somewhere specific?” I ask quickly, jumping at the opportunity to discuss his improving mental status. Maybe jarring his root memory helped him unlock parts of his brain he couldn’t previously see before. That's at least one theory. The taxi driver coughs loudly interrupting what seems like a crazy conversation to an intimidating, silent shadow. My face turns bright tomato red.

“Um, you’ve arrived.” The cabbie coughs out gruffly. 

“Thank you!” I give him a large tip and push Erving out of the cab as if he couldn’t get out by himself. On the sidewalk outside the entrance of my building Erving gives me his arm again. We intwine arms like the Wizard of Oz crew-minus the other two and walk up to my floor. Luckily for me it was empty of any prying eyes. The neighbors were either at home asleep or out partying, or maybe doing something illegal. The safest neighborhood it is not, my wrecked furniture and stolen Bose can attest to that. 

Entering my apartment felt like entering the heavens. I’m finally home. I’m sleeping in my bed and taking a shower. I only dropped by quickly to grab some stuff and clean my ruined apartment, but I haven’t been able to sleep at home since I’ve been kidnapped. Two and half weeks ago. It feels longer.

I sigh dreamily, not able to hold it in. I’m just happy to be home.

I turn the switch and my string lights light up the room with a warm glow. The lights intertwine with the plants inside the mason jars, which were repaired and now strung up across my ceiling. The ragged and torn curtains are now replaced with new brightly colored orange drapes. My ruined rugs were now replaced with expensive knitted material of  military green shade. Where the stolen TV was now a fancy new projector screen paired with an already installed projector resides. To put the cherry on top of this Trading Spaces miracle is a large L shaped tangerine colored couch. The couch was flush against the wall of the open floor plan, sitting directly across the projector screen.

I gasp out feeling my heart speed to an unstable pace. From the entrance way I could see a little folded card and a vase of white roses on my kitchen counter. I drop Erving’s arm running to the card not able to focus on anything but the note.

Dear Daph,

Your Father and I have been worried about you and visited your apartment last night. You weren't there, your father and I decided it would be best to check in and we used your extra key. Your Father suggested it! To my astonishment your apartment was a mess. Almost all of your belongings were gone! Did you know about this?!  We knew this area was difficult but we didn’t know it was outright dangerous. 

We did not think further on it and we installed locks and extra security measures for your protection. I thought it would be nice to replace your old belongings as well, we know you have a lot on your plate right now. So, one less thing for you to worry about. But we would prefer if you moved somewhere safer, or just come back home, that's an idea! 

No, wait, sorry! You're an adult; I forget sometimes. Before I write on and on and on I wanted you to know you can always call us. We are always here when you need us and even when you don’t.

Love,

Your Parents

There behind the vase was a bottle of blue pills. Thank goodness, I have been needing a replacement. All of the worries I had resting in the back of my head now were lifted, all thanks to my meddling, caring parents. 

Your place is very inviting. Once we got past the scary stairwell and your eerily silent neighbors. But your apartment is different…more ‘warm.’ I jump in the air forgetting Erving was there, he is standing still as stone not moving an inch from the entrance. 

“Thank you for walking me home, Erving.” I walk across the apartment and stand in front of his silent figure.

I’m glad I did. If I’d known your neighborhood was full of so much crime I would have brought along some security measures. Your alarm system won’t cut it for serious threats.

“Well that’s reassuring. I’m just grateful I have any security at this point. I’m sorry, now I have to kick you out for my own health. I’m desperate for a shower and sleep.” I ramble on, faltering to a stop as Erving shakes his head.

Have a good night Dr. Bennett. 

“You can call me Daphne if you want. Whichever you prefer.” I yap at his back on his way out, he stops, still and silent to the outside world.

Okay, I’ll see you Friday Daphne.

“Goodnight Erving.” I whisper back before he fully makes his exit, he was here and now he’s gone. If someone was listening on the other side of the wall they would think I was talking to myself.

I jumped at my opportunity in what felt like a long time to unwind. I run to the bathroom stripping myself from my clothes and jump into the shower. I needed to scrub the stress sweat away and sense of dread that Vought Corp emits, like a foul stench. 

After turning into a prune from my well earned hot shower I put on my comfy pajama set that was much too large for my small frame. Just how I liked it. The pajama set is a pale pink shade and is fluffy all over. I lazily get out of the steamy bathroom and make a bag of extra butter popcorn. I finally have a chance to look at all of my social media, and it is as I expected. Flooded with messages and followers by the thousands. All from that brief interview, no doubt. I turn my phone back off. Maybe I shouldn’t have looked.

As the microwave does its magic I start to play with my brand new projector. All the streaming services were automatically set up with my accounts, thank god. I put on an old favorite my Dad and I watch every summer together. Red Thunder , a film the Payback crew performed in 1983. Classic cheesy American propaganda at its cheesy gooiest.

I run to my room to grab my large fuzzy pink blanket, wrapping it around myself to keep the night chill away. Grabbing a large glass bowl and throw in my buttery popcorn to munch on for the movie. A breeze chills my back, probably from my open sliding door that connects to the tiny terrace. I need to close it before the temperature drops to freezing.

“Am I interrupting anything?”  I scream automatically dropping my bowl of popcorn, it cracks and shatters on impact and popcorn flies everywhere. I’ll be finding popcorn for months with the way it splattered in every direction. Now I have to deal with bugs! Speaking of nuisances.

“You can’t just barge into my home without asking for permission first. Not even a text? I thought you of all the Superheroes would have some sense of decorum!” I admonished without restraint, my no-nonsense tone clear, not surprised at all really that he would do this. He definitely has an issue with boundaries, honestly I think he loves pushing people to their limits.

“You never gave me your personal number.” He chuckles through his sardonic words, a smirk twist at his lips. He takes confident strides to a whole new level as he glides through my apartment. Each step was accompanied with a poignant and loud crunch, the popcorn now worse off. “Can’t fix everything with a nice shiny coating.” He whistles out as he gives my apartment a derisive once over. 

His eyes were sharp as he took in the surroundings, readying himself for an attack, like a predator on edge. I don’t take my eyes off him, and he finally decides to acknowledge my presence. He gives me this scowl, this dark judgmental look that would strike me to my core if I wasn't such a self assured person. It was a stare that quaked no arguments and it told me he didn't approve.   

“I see you can relate to that.” The insinuation was not lost on me, I would have to be an idiot to not see the insult. I’m not taking the bait, no matter how much he wants me to. He lazily lounges on my couch taking up all of the space by stretching himself across it. His aura was bursting and sparkling with confidence but the red tumultuous sand continues to turn and weave around him. It was so cutting and complex and it felt painful. His eyes don't leave me for a second as I slowly approach him, as if he was a starving mad dog. 

“I’m sorry for not giving you my personal number, here.” I quickly write my number on a sticky note and push it into his hands. He looks stricken, and then like a balloon that has been released, deflates into my couch. That looks of defeat is bashed after a moment and he is suddenly on high alert again. All in a few seconds. His back is ramrod straight and his confident lounging is no more. His glare is as powerful as it was just a moment ago, and instead of provoking him I do something he doesn’t expect.

I turn away from the predator, give him my back and I try to dismiss that he's dangerous. I focus on my breathing while I stroll to my microwave to grab a bag of extra butter popcorn. Slow and steady steps across the kitchen tile.

“If you want you can join me! I just turned on Red Thunder . Do you like that movie?” I put the bag of popcorn in the microwave and let the miracle of modern tech work its thing. I finally look back at Homelander who I left stricken and stuck to the couch.

“ Red Thunder ? Aren’t you a little young to have seen that?” His grumbling revitalizes something that wasn’t there before. The usual angry red aura that clung to him faded to a paler shade for a flicker of moment and stills. The rumbling storm that was his soul quiets to just a murmur. 

“All because I’m not as old as you doesn’t mean I don’t have good taste. I know a classic when I see it. Also, this is a childhood favorite of mine!” The microwave dings at my passionate declaration and I hurriedly grab the fresh popcorn. I choose to completely avoid the mess that was currently on the floor. This time I’m using a plastic bowl too.

Homelander hasn’t moved from the couch, and he didn’t look like he was getting ready to leave. So I’m taking that as some form of reassurance that he wants to be here. In some way or form. Or maybe he’s trying to figure me out by provoking me on my home turf?

“Mine too.” 

The silence between us was not comfortable, but the movie helped. Then at my favorite moment I couldn’t stop myself from bursting out into a full on accent.

“At last, the famous American hero, Soldier Boy. You don't seem like much of a hero to me.” I quote in time with the movie, in a very bad Russian accent, mimicking the Soviet commander’s mannerisms. 

“You wouldn't know a hero if they walked in here and blasted you in the face.” I quote back to myself, giving Homelander a real show. All the weirdness now out in the open. He shouldn’t be here in my apartment in the first place, so no point in getting embarrassed. His body is trembling? I'd bet he's shaking in frustration from my bad performance. I fully commit to the bit now embracing the possibility that just maybe Homelander was laughing at my antics.

“My name is Colonel Yuri Valisivich Kasimov, commander of Soviet forces in this sector. Where will the American weapons be delivered to the Afghan rebels?” My Russian accent has evolved into a derivative and thicker parody of itself. 

That did it. Homelander spiels out in a low timbre of soft chortles. My serious expression and stiff stance falters. I can’t help but stare, eyes bug-eyed wide, in awe. His bright red dust devil of an aura clouded above his head lifts completely, for just one second. The aura shines, shimmers like an emerald, and the green color is so rich I feel lost inside a forest. The smell of fresh pine hints at something I can’t remember. Neither can he, I think. His bright smile transforms into a strained and forced grimace, trying to hide his authentic response.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it's your favorite movie.” He grumbles, crossing his arms and settling further into the corner of my couch placing his feet on top of my new coffee table. I offer him my bowl of popcorn, choosing to ignore his dark scowl. His furrowed brow and tight frown doesn’t waver as he grabs a handful of my delicious buttery popcorn.

“I told you!” I throw one into my mouth without missing. Homelander’s eyes widens a fraction and stares admittedly a second longer than what would be considered appropriate. Before he can say something rude I tune back into the film. “One man against the entire Soviet army. Who do you think you are? God?” My Russian guard caricature was full blown nasal silliness.

“No. God would have mercy. I won't.” Homelander replies through tight closed lips. Unable to stop himself it seems. His usual warm cinnamon flavor of control is now replaced by a bright citrus sweetness that feels happy. On instinct my powers control my body and I’m invading his personal space on the couch. I don’t notice I’m extremely close until his shadow feels like it can swallow me whole. His intense attention now focuses in on me. “Don’t look at me like that.” He grunts not giving me an inch as he stared down at me with derision.

“Looking at you like what?” I sit back quickly, feeling intrusive the more contemptuous his glare grows. His body is stiff ramrod straight again, like he’s back on the press junket and not sitting on my couch watching Red Thunder . 

“There’s no one that understands my struggle. They only think I’m something to be controlled…like you.” He’s now muttering something under his breath but I can’t quite grasp it. His pupils are blown wide and I can feel he’s not here anymore, but deep inside his own head.

“I don’t think that about you.”  I mimic his stance, going ramrod straight, puffing out my chest and tucking my chin in. Staring directly into his vacant eyes as I repeat, “I don’t think that about you. Whoever makes you think that way, yourself or someone else, they're wrong.” I ignore my better judgment on not touching a client without explicit consent and grab both his shoulders. I grip him tight with my bony fingers, forcing him to meet me head on. “I’m on your side.”

A sigh that was trapped deep inside his chasm of a soul releases and his stormy aura flares and shimmers, like it was taking its first breath after holding it for too long. His expression doesn’t give as much away. Still as a marble statue, like he was carved into my couch, but then he blinks.

“Shut up, I’m watching the movie.” He grumbles, and takes my blanket too, just to rub salt in the wound. He’s eating my bowl of popcorn now wrapped tightly in my large fluffy pink blanket. I sneakily put my feet under the little bit of the blanket he isn't hogging and we watch the movie in companionable silence. I snuggle further into the new couch enjoying the pleasant sound of action movie explosions and cheesy one liners lulling me to sleep. 

I woke up with a start, hyperventilating and my heart pounding loudly in my ear, a rhythm that haunts me. The memories of running through a rainforest, the rain beating down on her skin, or was it his skin? The feelings of fear when a large black panther struck Black Noir by surprise and the rush of adrenalin and joy after a victory streamed through my blood like a warm embrace.

His fresh memories of his past were so visceral and survivalist centered. I have nothing to compare it to in my own life, and it all felt so raw . I don’t think entering his mindscape was the best idea, considering all of the side effects that come with it. The roller coaster ride of emotions and memories tumbling like a few loose bolts inside my aching head is the worst part.

Finally taking a real deep breath I take in my surroundings. My blanket sits comfortably on top of my lap and there is no Homelander in sight. No proof of last night other than my memories. The pounding headache throbs at the front of my forehead, reminding me to take my medication before I start the day. I jump from my couch, leaving my projector on as it drones about the local news. 

I stop mid step to see the popcorn and shattered bowl still lay amuck all over my floor. Well, that’s proof of last night.

I jump over the mess pointedly ignoring the obvious hazard on my floor. I grab a bowl, milk, and cheerios as I pop a blue pill dry down my throat. I top it down by throwing a cup of black coffee into my cereal. Olivia calls me down right diabolical for doing this. I just think it cuts the middle man. I bring my bowl to the couch turning up the volume as the news anchors drones on.

“Breaking News has just been released this morning. A whistleblower inside Vought Corporations has documented proof that Superheroes are not born, but made. Vought has made a drug known as Compound-V, which they inject into infants –” The ringing in my ear is so loud I feel like I lost my hearing. The NNC anchor drones on more, and journalists around the panel join in the conversation on occasion.

“Vought needs to come out with a statement!” A reporter is screaming their head off, and others from all sides of the screen are critiquing Vought to some capacity. My body trembles and my cheerios grow soggy. I continue to stare blankly at my Tiffany blue bowl. 

“H-How is this possible?” All my limbs feel numb and cold like I’ve been stuck under cold running water for hours. 

“Guardians have to give permission to have their children undergo this pharmaceutical trial. There are also gag orders involved from what’s implied in the whistleblower’s statement.” The terrifying piece of information felt like I swallowed dark ice shards and the information was stabbing me from the inside. This coldness feels like a bubbling brew of poison inside my stomach, just waiting to burst and froth out of my mouth.  It was too much to bear. I turn the projector off. The apartment is eerily silent.

The buzzing of my phone was loud and shocking in the empty silence. My phone’s sudden vibrating and ringing jingle alert went off for a minute straight without showing any signs of stopping. Finally, I force myself up off the couch and grab my phone from my bag.

Ashley Barrett

Of course. “Yes?”

“You’ve heard about the leak.”

“Yes, I did–”

“Good, I’m required to give you the day off for a ‘mental health’ recovery day,” I can hear her muffled guffaw before continuing. “to recover from this recent information. But, since you are our resident mental health expert I want you to check in on The Seven. Make sure to at least get me a verbal confirmation they’ll be at their scheduled media circuit tomorrow. Remind them they must keep their lines of communication open for Mr. Stan Edgar, if he chooses to address them. Did you get all that?” A mixture of strain and condescension mingling in her vocal cords like the beat of an annoying drum. I swallow the bile rising from my throat and rub the tears out of my bloodshot eyes.

“Y-yes, of course, I’ll call them all right away.” 

“Good, give me a report by the end of the day.” She hangs up before any more words can be exchanged. Breathe, just breathe. I shakily dial the first number I put in my phone, Homelander and call him. I get the dial tone three times before I give up and leave a voicemail simply inquiring about his well being. I thought maybe that bonding moment last night would foster something friendly, but maybe not.

Next I call Erving–labeled as Black Noir in my phone’s contacts. He doesn’t pick up. Damn, was he going out on a retcon mission the night before? He didn’t specify when he was going just when he would be back. Ugh, I knew this would be fruitless but I call Stormfront. 

“Hello, this is Stormfront’s assistant Tammy. How can I help you?” A dull monotone voice I assume to be female actually answered.

“This isn’t Stormfront’s personal number?”

“No, this is Stormfront’s main line if you want to schedule an appointment with her, if it fits in her already very busy schedule.” She says through a bland nasally accent I couldn’t decipher. 

“Ah, well tell her Dr. Bennett called to check in on her. I want her to know if she needs anything or a time to talk–”

“Got it. I will tell her the therapist called to ask about scheduling a counseling appointment.” 

“Don’t you know her schedule? We can workout a–”

“Thank you Dr. Bennett but I have to run all the call-ins by Stormfront. I will contact you again if Stormfront agrees to an appointment.” The audacity of this stonewall of a woman.

“Stormfront told me she wants to schedule—”

“I will tell her about you calling, okay. She will choose to move forward how she likes from there. Have a good day!”

“But–” The dial tone replies back to my weak plea. How pathetic. Stormfront seems to be thinking she can get herself out of therapy by steamrolling me with her team of interns. Well, I’ll find a way. 

I call Queen Maeve next and it goes straight to voicemail. Not surprising. I call A-Train and I’m hung up on in the middle of a ring. I call again and the pattern repeats. These people are more opposed to therapy than cats are to a running bath. Somethings gotta give. I call Starlight, my last hope.

“This is Annie.” 

“Hi, Annie it’s Daphne or Dr. Bennett if you’d prefer.” I clear my throat pushing through any of my ingrained apprehension for forcing therapy. “I’m checking in on everyone. After the recent news, a lot of people who have powers may need a person to talk about such a life changing revelation.”

“You have powers too, Daphne. The news came out only a few hours ago and you're calling us to see how we feel? How can you possibly ask us when you probably don’t even know how you feel!” 

“Y-your right I called at a bad time. I’m so sorry. Please, call me if you need–”

“No, I’m sorry Daphne. I didn’t mean to snap and you're right it's just a bad time right now.” She’s quiet but firm in her interruption. 

“No, no, it’s my fault for not thinking about how hard this could be for all of you. I should have at least worded it more tactfully.” 

“No! Daphne, you have powers too and I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You're just doing your job. I'm sorry for my outburst. I think I would like to schedule an appointment, actually.” She softly whispers that last part, sounding like she could hang up any moment if I didn’t word this exactly right.

“When would you be able to come in?”

“Next week will be great. Monday morning at 9am would fit my current schedule. If anything changes I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, please take time for yourself when you can.” I hung up the phone hoping she took my words to heart. Her reminding me of being just as much a part of the people that may need to talk to someone about this–I instead ignore that agonizing thought and keep moving. I move without full control looking over my large portfolio of contacts. I landed on one name I haven’t seen in a long time. My body presses it without my mind letting me second guess.

“Hello?” A shy sweet voice, sounding raspy as if it hasn’t been used often comes from the line.

“Hi, Marie. I know I haven’t called in a while, but with the recent news out I wanted to check in on you.”

“You call me on all my birthdays and send me cards for every Holiday. You do more for me than most adults around here ever do.” Her muttering voice fills with disdain when talking about the Red River Institute, which is valid. I don’t only think that because I was laid off based on budget cuts. There are many factors in why I don’t like the Red River Institute. 

“Well, I think we need to sit and talk in person for once. How about it, kid?”

“As long as you promise me you won’t call me kid.”

“Okay, fine. They grow up so fast. I’ll pick you up and we can take the subway together.”

“Daph, I can meet you at the restaurant without you chaperoning me.”

“Right, right.”

“So, where do you want to go?”

“A Jitter Bean coffee and breakfast sandwich sounds amazing right now.”

“I can go for a coffee.” Marie’s noncommittal affect is still her usual tone of choice.

“Are you free now? We can get brunch before the lunch rush takes all the good seats. The Jitter Bean not too far from the institute would be better for you, right?”

“We can go to any Jitter Bean you’d like. I don’t mind. The Institute doesn’t care how long I’m out. The curriculum around here isn’t strict–they care more about our nightly curfews anyway.”

“Right, I forgot about their strict evening curfew. Let's meet up in thirty then.”

“Alright, see you there.” I hang up the phone and hurry to get ready. I choose to ignore the messages and calls coming from my phone–unless it was work related. Family and Olivia were something I was going to deal with later. 

I throw on a basic white blouse and sheer eggshell colored cardigan to layer on top. My form fitting blue jeans and mauve flats were all I had the remaining energy to pair my top with. Anything else would be too much for me today. I put my hair up in a pink scrunchie to get my messy curls out of my face and I quickly grab my bag before vaulting out the door.

I’m back out in the thrumming city. The crowds of blurring emotions filtering through me felt exhilarating. And horrible. The strong jumble of emotions that were impossible to decipher left a muddy sour film on top of my tongue. The blood rush giving me a quick high also left me winded and light headed. This all struck my body within a few seconds. I stumble leaning outside my apartment building, trying to catch my breath. Cold sweat ran down my brow and I could feel my bouncy curls fizz out from the humidity. Taking a deep breath I call for a cab and the ride there is peaceful. 

My phone buzzed and my family's name flashes on my screen over and over again. I ignore them. I need space before I can even think about talking with mom and dad. The texts from Olivia were only growing by the hour. A decent pace for Olivia. I just don’t know how to talk to Olivia about my powers at all. I barely told her about them yesterday, and now I’m supposed to feel comfortable talking to her about this ? I need space from all of them to think.

“We’re here m’am.” The cab driver piped up cheerfully, not sounding annoyed at all, for once.

“So sorry.” I whisper out desperate to just be away from the small space. I scramble out of the cab and see an old Jitter Box I haven’t been to in years. Not since my first job in the foster system–involving kids who have powers and criminal-records. The idea of a kid with powers at some point discovering my secret was a worry I had every day. The job was also grinding in every sense of the word.

The amount of children that end up in even worse situations was very high, and the statistics haven't changed. It would be amazing if they were given a chance to integrate into society, rather than be imprisoned. It still makes my blood boil thinking of the psych department being one of the first to be eliminated for budget cuts. My internship was out the window and I had to start somewhere brand new. It was also difficult leaving a lot of my patients. 

Marie was always one of my favorites, and has so much potential to do great things. Her lack of faith in my field also always gave me a kick in the butt to try and help her. She is an abstinent one though, that’s for sure.

The more decrepit version of the Jitter Box from my memories seats an older Marie sipping on a cup of black coffee. She sat at a booth at the front with a nice window view. Seeing her in person after all these years feels like I'm traveling back in the past. Seeing her mature growing self in contrast to my memories of the brave preteen has me choking back tears. I quickly wipe them away with my sheer sleeve and push myself to go inside. No one was inside but the cashier, the cook flipping burgers in the back and Marie at a booth. When she sees me enter she waves at me awkwardly as if unsure on how to socially participate at all. Has she grown shier since I last saw her? Her maroon silk like aura that wrapped around her like an ever twisting ribbon was bouncy as ever. Her aura was unique in the way it moved and swayed, but stayed consistent like Marie herself. She is not so withdrawn as to hide her aura, yet.

I throw my arms around her, giving her as much of a bear hug as I can pull off. She holds her breath and her maroon ribbon aura tightens taut around her as if to shield her from my touch. I pull back quickly not wanting to push it.

“How’ve you been Marie?” I ask as I slide into the opposite seat. Her shy smile turns wide and sharp.

“How bout you tell me about your powers first and then we talk about me, hm?” Marie sips her black coffee, looking very pleased by flipping the tables on me.

“Ah right. Guess I couldn't get past that question. Ah, well, I’ve been keeping my powers secret since I was a child. Ever since my powers manifested when I hit puberty they were difficult to understand. My lack of understanding and control eventually led to an accident. That incident cost my family a lot and they had to cover for me in order for us to keep away from the authorities. Luckily, after the incident my family was able to help me control my powers and how to hide them from the public. Nothing more dramatic than that. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before.” I drop my eyes to the floor, twisting my hands together repeatedly. Anything but looking Marie directly in the eyes. 

“I would have done the same thing if I was in your shoes.” A sigh of relief leaves my lips before I can hold it back. Marie chuckles at my obviousness. “I can’t believe you got away with it for so long. You're a terrible liar.”

“I know. I'm impressed with myself if I'm being honest.” I shrug. "So, how has the news affected you?” I ask without restraint, not wanting to divulge any more about my own past.

“It hasn’t affected me.” Marie sips her black coffee, she’s as unflappable as ever.

“The concept of us being made, rather than born hasn’t changed your perspective on anything ? Not your powers? Your parents? Nothing?” I continue to press waiting for any sign of a facial reaction. She was cold, still looking unbothered, and a little bored.

“My goal hasn’t changed.”

“I didn’t ask you if your goal has changed, I asked if the news changed how you felt about anything. Has it?” 

“I don’t feel any differently, like I told you. How does it feel being a part of The Seven? Can you write me a recommendation letter for university?” 

“Of course. You still aiming for Godolkin University, right?” I ask, letting her change the subject.

“I need a full ride to make this at all possible. A recommendation from someone working with The Seven could go a long way.”

“Don’t worry Marie, I'll write you a recommendation letter that will knock the socks off of that admissions office.”

“Thanks, Daph. That means a lot. Now tell me all about being in The Seven. ” She whispers the last part as if scared the empty Jitter Bean was filled with nosy people. I sigh loudly before adding a groan in there too. Marie’s laugh is barely held in by her hands, trying to cover her giggles. The waitress interrupts us, stepping up to our table in a cute blue dress uniform. 

“How can I help you girls?” A thick accent, Jersey if I had to guess, and hips swaggering with every word.

“I would like a black coffee with a bacon egg and cheese crescent, please.” I pipe up quickly wanting that sweet beautiful breakfast sandwich as quickly as possible. The waitress’s dark orange aura fluttered in annoyance at my quick tone. She writes that down with a muttered assurance, waiting and staring pointedly at Marie.

“Could you turn the volume up?” Marie asks, her sharp eyes now focused on the TV in the corner of the small cafe. The waitress sighs loudly before doing so. CNN channel has been non stop filtering through journalists across all sources wanting Vought’s head on spike for the recent revelation. I mean that’s bad press no matter how you look at it. Oddly though CNN wasn’t talking about Superheroes being made not born.

They instead had live footage center focus at a beach. A beach not too far from where we were now. The exploded whale on the beach was a new and horrifying sight I didn't think I'd see in the daily news. 

“Oh my god.” I mutter out gasping at the helicopter debris shown floating in the ocean. Three men confirmed dead from the terrorist attack.

“The attack is being led by a member of the Shining Light Liberation Army. He has destroyed whole city blocks with his telekinesis and has five identified murders attached to his profile. He is wanted on all accounts, and from our current reports The Seven has officially entered the scene.” The blonde news anchor with a deep soothing voice reported over the live footage. The Seven arrive in a dramatic style, all together like an actual team. All the infighting was not visible when all you could see was the colorful suits. The footage was all at a birds eye view.

“I believe the Deep beaching a whale but how’d it explode?”

“Was that the Deep?” I ask dumbfounded, squinting my eyes on the TV screen trying to decipher the pixelated footage.

“Did you know they were on a retcon mission?” Marie’s voice quivered with excitement she couldn’t hold back. She shakes my shoulders from across the table, trying to shake the words out of me.

“Of course not. I’m not nearly as important as you assume I am. I’m barely even a concept to them, an annoyance at most. Definitely not a part of The Seven , don’t let Homelander hear you say that.”

“Homelander’s touchy about you joining The Seven ?”

“I’m not a part of The Seven so there’s nothing to be touchy about. Now where is my coffee?” 

“Fine, if you want to change the subject I will. Tell me what it’s like to work at Vought!”

“Um, it's definitely…impressive.”

“Impressive? That’s all you got to say?” With Marie’s derisive questions the waitress drops two cups of black coffee in front of us.

“How are you expanding your resume by the way? Other than strongmaning your elders, of course.” 

“You will be happy to know I’m still volunteering at the soup kitchen. I kind of gave up on soccer, though. Didn’t want to break the news to you over the phone.” She shrugs, not seeming all that heartbroken over it. But that was Marie for you. If I didn’t have powers I would have a hard time reading her tightly held expressions. Her statements even offer many ways of interpreting, and she did all this on purpose. She holds everyone afar even the people she considers herself close to. I should check in on her more frequently.

“Well, I’m proud of you for taking your volunteer work seriously. If you tell me your schedule I could make some time to go to the soup kitchen with you, if you’d like?” I ask, hope obvious in my voice as I wrap my hands over hers from across the table. She smiles and squeezes my hands back. The warm tingle of content trinkles into my bloodstream, and I feel myself relax in what felt like a long time. Then things change.

I can’t hear anything as the world crashes around me. The Jitter Bean’s barely standing foundation is cracking and crumbling within a blink, plaster is falling from the ceiling and threatening to crush us. Marie grabs her bag and is immediately at my side looking for a safe path towards an exit. I grab her hand and focus every muscle in my body to push us out of this broken building. 

The waitress wails as she is hit with a large beam that was previously attached to the ceiling. As we run past her I can see the waitress wasn’t breathing. Someone screamed from the back–the cook, but Marie held my hand tight not willing to let me go while pushing past the hot steam spilling from the broken pipes. 

“You’re going to be okay, Daph.” Marie doesn’t give me time to respond before wrapping her arms around me and jumping through the steam and out the gaping hole that was the front entrance of the cafe. The steam was hitting Marie square in the back, but didn’t touch me. She yells out in pain as we land hard on the broken concrete. I push myself up from the cracked sidewalk and try to hold Marie as she lays on the ground groaning in pain.

“Oh god, M-Marie.” Her usual warm dark coloring has paled into an ashen shade. I turn her body to the side and she immediately howls out. The sharp guttural moans of pain coming from her lips before she takes in a deep breath. “I’m going to call for an ambulance, Marie. I will be with you the whole time. Don’t you w-worry.” Tears are falling down my face and I’m muttering her assurances as I can’t help but stare at her boiled back. Her back had layers of bubbles in her skin that oozed blood out by abundance, so much so that it was making me woozy. 

The emotional bombs that were surrounding me didn’t help my concentration either. I shakily grab my phone and I’m calling for the nearest hospital, but Marie’s hand grabs my phone before I can dial the final number.

“D-don’t.  Look again Daph, I'm healing.” She gasps out, barely able to grit out each word. She’s still strong even in such a dire situation. Looking once again at the mess of her back I can finally see what she means. The blood now was coagulating around each wound and it was healing at an impossibly fast rate. I didn’t know her blood powers gave her that much of a healing benefit; she must have been working on that for a while. She will be a great student for Godolkin University if I can get her out of this mess without further injury.

Marie’s coloring has returned and she doesn’t look like she was going to pass out anymore. She gets up more smoothly than could have been expected. I stumble to my feet grabbing her hand, making sure to not get separated until she’s safe. Finally looking at our surroundings we can see the whole west avenue street was caved in. A huge crevice that was so deep it led into what looks like the sewer system. Cars were half in the trench and other vehicles were abandoned or completely destroyed by the wreckage. The debris that fell into the entrance of Jitter Bean was not the result of the cave-in. 

People were screaming and running from an apartment building just a few streets across from us. If I squint hard enough I can see someone flying and twisting around the building. Crowds of people were scattered a good distance from the focal point of the ongoing destruction. In a blink a huge hole bursts from the apartment building with a resounding crack of thunder that made the whole street shake. Pieces of the building fall below and crash, making the crowd scream. 

“We need to get out of here.” Marie grips my hand tighter as she mutters this under her breath. I nod silently agreeing, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the building. Marie doesn’t give me much choice as she drags me in a speedy fashion farther away from the destruction. 

Sadly we didn’t get far away fast enough. Through a cloud of dirt and metal propelled itself with a human being attached. Landing not just a few feet from us. A black woman’s limbs were cracked and broken from all angles. Her neck was half decapitated from landing on a piece of shrapnel. Marie freezes at the sight now completely immobile. I stand between her and the dead woman blocking her view.

“Marie, you're not there. You’re not there anymore, Marie. Breathe. In,” I take in a deep breath, and through my powers I loosen her coiled tight aura “and out.” I repeat the loud breathing and she joins in as her shoulders finally release their tension. The screaming and thunder cracks don’t help completely soothe her panic attack, but it has helped her calm down a bit. “Are you feeling okay enough to get out–”

Black.

Everything is black.

Then I hear a voice. A voice I remember. It’s Marie. Her voice sounds far off and as if it was coming from under water.

“Daphne! Please, Daphne get up! I’m just going to get–” 

I can’t hear anything again. It all feels rather fuzzy. The pins and needles sensation across my entire body was the first thing I notice in the numb darkness. Then it was the groggy ache that throbbed a terrible beat inside my skull. That is excruciating. I blurrily open my eyes and I’m laying down in a cot with an IV attached to my arm. Turning my head I could see I was inside a temporary hospital setting, and from what it looks like, was holding a number of homeless people. Lines with food and clothes being handed out is a big give away.  

“I want to know she’s okay before I go but I have to be home before my curfew.”

“I understand miss. Hopefully your friend will be up soon, but she did receive a severe concussion. My advice is she get an MRI as soon as she can. Such injuries as hers shouldn’t be taken lightly.” The feminine and stern voice comes from the lady in the bloody scrubs.

“I’ll tell her.” Marie dismisses the woman completely and hurries to me with quick wobbly feet. “Daph, I’m so glad you’re up and okay. For a second I didn’t know how…” She left her sentence out in the air to be unfinished. “The field nurse says you should get an MRI after this. To make sure you don’t have irreparable damage, you know, the usual checkup.” She shrugs, trying to lighten everything with gallows humor. It helps.

“What time is it?”

“It just turned 5.” She checks her phone with a flicker of worry in her golden eyes.

“Marie, thank you for saving me a million times and hopefully we will be able to hangout under better circumstances,” Marie snorts at that “but go home before you get in trouble.” I lift myself up from the cot taking the IV out myself. Marie’s eyebrows twist up and her mouth turns down as if wanting to say something. I shake my head at her and she gives out a long sigh.

“Okay, just please get home safe. Take a cab as soon as you feel better.”

“I will. Now get going!” I  wave my hands at her trying to push her away. She smiles, a real smile I haven’t seen on her in this entire time we’ve talked today. A smile of relief is better than no smile at all. She gives me a quick hug before running out the doors. She hopefully made it back in time without punishment. Red River Institute was quite harsh with punishments. 

I sigh, and try to get up from my cot on my trembling feet. I grab a crutch that was left for me and can’t help but pat at the bandage wrapped around my head. I flinch back from my gentle prodding and feel pretty dumb for it. Catching my eye was the crowd of news press filming a makeshift stage in the center of the refuge. Center stage was my worst nightmare, Stan Edgar. He was a wearing a navy blue pinstripe suit that looked tailor made for him, which it was, and the fabric looks like it was ported here from Egypt. He looked healthy and pristine as if he didn't have a worry in the world. My blood goes ice cold and I kept stop myself from glaring at him. His polished perfect white smile takes over his face morphing him to look approachable, but I know what he is. A predator who's just got his kill. 

He begins his speech with as much confidence as someone born with a silver tongue.

“I know the news about Compound V is a shock to everyone. As you can imagine, this has been a very difficult day for the Vought family. Our focus now will be to learn the truth. As I said we are conducting a robust investigation into Compound V, but let me be clear; I had no knowledge whatsoever. We believe it was the work of a small, disaffected group of scientists led by former Vought employee Madelyn Stillwell. But sadly, there are more important matters at hand. Everyone at Vought sends their thoughts and prayers to those families that were affected today. Though it is important to acknowledge that this tragic event could have been far worse; today’s attack underscores just how dangerous Super terrorists have become. And, at a time like this, America needs its heroes more than ever. We live in a dangerous world. Our brave heroes were already fighting terrorists overseas, but now, America faces this war on a different front: right here at home. These enemies will stop at nothing to infiltrate our borders and attack our citizens. Our superheroes are the last line of defense. And today, the death toll would have been much higher had it not been for the brave actions of our newest hero, Stormfront, who stopped the terrorist before he could take more innocent lives. I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if Stormfront hadn’t been there, but thankfully she was patrolling the border of New York when she heard the destruction taking place . Without hesitation she immediately swooped in and put herself in harm's way to stop this terrorist from harming any more people. America is truly blessed to have you, ladies and gentlemen, Stormfront.” Stan Edgar’s speech is pristine as he gives no leeway for a journalist’s intrusion. Every little loophole Edgar could possibly think to cover within thirty seconds was said. 

He did it all with such a calm demeanor it made me feel ill. Looking at his face made my palms sweat profusely and the pit of my stomach burns with a cold fury I couldn’t bear. Like coals resting still inside my belly and burning through my intestines.

“Thank you. But we all know who the real heroes of this group are, right? The people you see behind you, the people who are struggling every day. So let’s give them all a hand.” She starts the round of applause and the people in the building join in. I clap along politely too trying to mask my inner turmoil. I take in the scene around me trying to ignore the press and Stan Edgar all together. 

I notice Stormfront isn’t the only one of The Seven in the makeshift hospital and refuge for the newly homeless. Starlight is at the booth handing out water, but her shining bright aura that is usually impossible to miss is dim. She’s lost some of her light, but why? Looking to the opposite side at the exit where more people are being gurneyed in and out; Homelander stood at the edge of the scene. His whole soul screamed and raged, so much so the tornado that was his aura spins and twists so fast I can feel the winds whip at my mind. The power of his emotions and soul battered at me with such ferocity I'm lucky I'm still standing. Through pure willpower and one crutch I wobble my way towards the superhero. People gave him a wide berth, so even they could sense he was on edge. 

I drag myself across the makeshift hospital to look him directly in the eyes but he’s hyper focused on the stage. He hasn’t noticed me. I cough. 

“What are you doing here?” His eyes grows wide and his attention is immediately on me, so much power in a stare.

“I didn’t exactly book myself a room here, Homelander. I got in the crosshairs of the destruction and was brought here for immediate medical care.”

“Did you see what she just did?” His intense stare that felt like a natural force when directed towards me were now glaring back up at the stage.

“See what?” I can't help but feel discombobulated by his outright anger.  

“The way she smiled at me, all smug. She knew I had called dibs on him and she still has the audacity to do that .” His hands were gesture energetically and the next moment he’s still as a statue. His writhing aura quivers and shakes, but the tornado was still. I couldn’t decide which was scarier. “ 

“What if I told you I know how to get your numbers to skyrocket by tomorrow.” 

“I’d tell you you're full of shit.” He whispers derisively, glaring down at me with pure hatred I think incorrectly directed towards me.

“Come make pasta with me and I’ll tell you my plan.” This whole idea centers around him actually agreeing. The spur of the moment idea influenced completely around what happened today. Marie's words partly to thank for this brilliant idea. An idea so good it will help me help Homelander, while also letting Homelander think he’s getting what he wants. It’s so good it probably won’t work. But it’s worth a shot.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I got better places to be than listening to your hairbrained schemes.” He scuffs shuffling away from me, inching closer to the exit. 

“The invitation is always open. If you want to hear my proposal, and also make pasta with me, then stop by.” I say before turning my back on him and hobbling away. Not letting him have the last words this time.

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If you want to get my most recent updates for this fic check it out on AO3!

[sterlingarcher23]

- Neverending Story -

Turn around. Look at what you see. In her face the mirror of your dreams. (Max and El are narrational magic mirror - will talk about in another post)

Make believe I'm everywhere given in the light. (Max trying to think happy memories and the bottle points to El - lens flare and rainbow)

Written on the pages is the answer to a neverending story (Max's letter to El ; the MKUltra files containing information about El, Max and the alternate dimension & teleportation)

Reach the stars - Fly a fantasy. (the brain looks the same as the cosmic web, it's technically a universe in itself and been talked about not just in recent years. The writers tweeted about a song called "Cosmic love" one as well ; fly a fantasy = flee out of this romantic fantasy of yours)

Dream a dream and what you see will be. (Lucid dreaming: Max is able to walk between dimensions of the mindscape as shown when she did enter the mind lair from her own mindscape ; no concentration or help with a network needed, she does it like we go through a door - and making a dream real: Max can alter her mindscape)

Rhymes that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds (Patterns = Rhymes =Poem)

And there upon a rainbow is the answer to a neverending story. (Henry is upon a rainbow: his actions trigger the Neverending Story to happen ; El sent Max's consciousness over a rainbow bridge/Bifrost into another dimension)

Show no fear for she may fade away. (Fading in the void and really be gone if El's afraid - she isn't in the revival scene. There's neither fear, no anger, those are El's usual triggers for her powers but im this case its love)

In your hand the birth of a new day (El holding Max's hand, the flower, the bottle ; Lucas holding the pinecone = resurrection, regeneration, eternal life)

Rhymes that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds (Patterns = Rhymes again ; El and Max meeting completing the poem)

And there upon a rainbow is the answer to a neverending story. (Rainbow on Max's face ; rainbow directly behind Max = the other dimension is inside of Max)

She's the answer and the dimension directly connected to her brain to a neverending story for El and Max.

The "rainbow" can also be interpreted as the eyes iris (Greek for rainbow) - since "You are an angel in disguise. I can see it in your eyes"

A few lines can be interpreted for other moments, forwards and backwards (reach the stars = Starcourt), not just Season 4 but also foreshadowing Season 5. And it can be compared with other media references that are inspirational elements for the show.

Anyway, it is heavily Elmax coded. Similar to the song lyrics of "Separate ways (Worlds apart)": "Someday love will find you." - meaning it isn't meant for Season 4 but 5.

The Neverending Story is only possible through this:

[hexarcana]

Mind/Dreamscape Headcanons

Aggies Mindscape Looks like her house, but it’s not just her current house, it’s an amalgamation of every home she’s lived in (Her house in Jersey, the Oregon House, her dorm at School, the Coven House etc) and it’s sitting in the middle of an ocean. Many of the doors and things inside will coincide with memories but a lot of the more fond memories are inside the many paintings on the wall. A lot of them are also found in books in the library,

Organized as such. It’s very well organized, pretty easy to navigate. The trouble is it’s almost impossible to get in there unless she brings you in. This isn’t just due to her innate magic but she also has devoted a lot of her magic practice to the mind. When she was in the coven she did a lot of her more dangerous and intense training in her sleep. As a result she is able to keep her head locked down like a maximum security prison. If Bill were to go into her head while she was asleep, he’s get as far as the front door. It will not open, it will not break down or anything, and after a few attempts to break in, it simply vanishes, leaving him in the middle of the ocean. Then he’d get pushed out bc she’d wake up. If he tried to regular old possess her he could do so, and it had the potential to be very bad bc she has a loooot of power. It also is uncomfortable for him, like putting on a skin tight scratchy wool sweater in the middle of July. Eventually it just burns, so if he’s gonna possess her and not be overwhelmed with pain, he’d keep it brief. This is due to the sheer number of spells that woman has used, put on herself, and added protection form all sorts of other backstory shit.

But, when Aggie leaves her body her mind goes with her. If he wants something in there he is not likely to get it without help. And I would be prepared to bet (bc I made her) that she’s got a lot of useful and potentially dangerous information in there.

Magic mysteries, dark secrets, tragic backstories, hilarious moments of Stanford Pines’ childhood…

Circling back to dreams though, she is an expert at dream manipulation, and is adept at a skill known as Mindmelding, which is a practice where she temporarily links up people’s minds/dreams so they can converse in private or over far distances. It’s a skill used sparingly because if done too often it will be permanent and you end up sharing dreams not matter what they contain. She has used this skill to check in with her son, converse with very old friends, and I fully believe she used it to visit Stan when he was out at sea.

The one downside to having a lot of dream power is that your dreams are much more vivid, and they effect the dreamer in startling ways. Aggie will wake up from a nightmare where she’s drowning and immediately cough up water upon waking. If she fights something in a dream, she’ll wake up wounded. As a byproduct anyone who she links dreams with will have to deal with this too so while she’s melded she is extremely careful not to cause any harm or anything.

Unfortunately most dreams she have are not particularly pleasant ones and it’s in these times that her magic doesn’t seem to help much, she’s unable to detangle her own nightmares as effectively as she could for someone else. So many are about old magic and torture and shit so she prefers to just.. be awake as much as possible.

This is a skill that she doesn’t talk about much bc she don’t want to do this with most people but she does divulge the ins and outs of it to Stan since they meet up in the mind from time to time. Aggie has asked him _not_ tell anyone about it, though.

[kiss-me-cill-me]

@red-riding-wood I know I said I was going to read your Neil fic, but I'm easily distracted 😉

Aaaand I was so intrigued by what you'd told me about this fic that I had to change plans and read it first!

So to start, you've talked to me about wanting to do more background research on our boy Crane, but I'm not sure where exactly you are in that journey haha. With that in mind, what I'm about to say might sound like a whole lot of gibberish - but I'm still gonna say it lol

This title instantly made me think of him in the "Blackest Night" comics, where he becomes a temporary member of the Yellow Lantern Corps. I feel like that was possibly just a happy coincidence, but I still thought it was cool and worth mentioning! There were some interesting parallels and differences between the way yellow light is used in those comics and the way you used it here. I would love to hear more about what was going through your mind when you wrote this, specifically in terms of what the yellow light represented to you, if you don't mind sharing!

Which brings me to my main point, which is that (as always lol) I LOVED all the symbolism and imagery and descriptions throughout this whole fic. You truly do know how to paint a picture. In this case, not just with the visual descriptions, but the whole atmosphere you created here was tangible. The language you used really captured the feelings of oppression, dread, and some sort of all-consuming pressure that's difficult to put words to (at least for me; you put words to it beautifully!)

I copied down too many quotes to include all of them, but I have to go over a couple of my favorites haha

Fingers seized into talons as they closed around your ears, attempting to block out the noise as it built into a terrifying crescendo

I loved how here it was a bit uncertain at first exactly whose fingers these were. I thought for a split second it was going to be someone else grabbing at the reader, but no, it's her own fingers curling as she wrestles against her inner demons. Beautifully written and so creepy!

Your fingers balled into a fist, the touch of his hand dissolving like a pill in water, like sutures that held you to together for one moment only to leave you in pieces, scarred and bruised and broken. For a moment, you thought you’d fall again.

I guess I just really liked every line that had to do with fingers lmao. But actually the main reason I quoted this section was because I loved the comparison of his touch to a pill dissolving in water; what an amazing way to describe a fleeting moment of comfort!!

He paused, looking over his shoulder, strands of his black hair wisping this way and that. His face was shadowed, the sockets of his eyes black. The frames of his glasses glinted silver in the dark, like the teeth, the scalpels.

And oh my gosh, this reads like a scene right out of a movie and/or a nightmare fever dream - I could picture it perfectly!

Speaking of pills and sutures and scalpels, I thought you wove a lot of medical imagery into the narration in very clever ways. My favorite example, though, was the multiple times her tears were referred to as "saline" - it felt like a very clinical description and totally fit the mood. And then connects seamlessly with the syringe that's mentioned later on.

I also found it really interesting that she wasn't able to fully see Crane's face while trapped in her mindscape, for lack of a better term. This felt very dreamlike to me. In my dreams, I can never see faces - and while clearly this won't apply to everyone, for me it really added a little extra something to the final reveal, when we confirm that everything is happening inside her head.

Jumping back a bit though, I think my favorite moment was the one where she turns around for a few seconds, holds up her hand, and looks at the light through the "bars" of her own fingers. OH MY GOD THE IMAGERY! To me, this represented feeling trapped within herself, but also feeling like there are forces outside of "just" her own mind at play. There is a physicality to things; I felt like there was a reason you chose to use fingers instead of some other, more undefined shadow or illusion to make the same point about the asylum gate. But I also feel like I'm in danger of starting to sound super pretentious lmao, so I'll leave it at that 😆

I really need to wrap this up before you get sick of me spouting my nonsense, so I'll leave off with my absolute favorite piece of dialogue:

“It’s not so dark here when you embrace it.”

Need I even say more? This line was perfect 🖤End rant lol

Yellow Light

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x F!Reader

Summary: Jonathan is your guide as you escape Arkham Asylum.

Based off the song "Yellow Light" by Of Monsters and Men (original version here and acoustic version here). This song is really special to me and helped me brave my heart surgery in August. A lot of this fic is a projection of my own experiences, trauma, and health issues over the past several years -- but Arkham can represent absolutely anything you want it to that you or the character is trying to escape.

Song lyrics are in bold.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, depictions of PTSD (hospital trauma specifically), drug addiction/use, psychosis, hallucinations, fear of death, blood.

Will also use similar themes to my upcoming series "Darkness Until Dawn" and OC Cassie Hart but this is a standalone x reader fic.

I also feel like Crane might come across a bit OOC in this fic because he's in an established relationship with the reader and he's in a comforting role, but I promise I have some very fucked-up stuff for him coming up where he's an absolute menace.

WC: 3309

Sounds of Hell threaded themselves into the night air. Howling, bleating, baying down the streets. Whispering thoughts of death into your ears. Thoughts that formed into icy talons that raked down your spine, that stirred goosebumps along the bare flesh of your arms. That froze you in place, your heart slamming against your ribs as they tethered you to the cold concrete like vines.

Frantic looks cast to your left, to your right, you turned, stumbling over your own feet as you whirled, the darkness of each alleyway sinking into your soul. Staring back at you as if to say, you cannot escape me.

I’m looking for a place to start. Everything feels so different now.

Which way was out? Which way was back there? Back to the dingy halls of Arkham, the acrid stench of spoiled cafeteria food, the howling of patients that still seemed to echo back to you from the alleys.

The maw of a great beast parted, razors of teeth glinting silver in the dark, stretching from one brick wall to another. Hurtling towards you, wisps of black smoke emerging from the darkness and curling round you like hissing tongues. The roar started as a peal of thunder, and ended as a shockwave, razor teeth shattering into glass as the beast collided against your skull. Dizzying waves sent the world spinning, brought you to your knees before the Devil himself.

She’s good as dead.

The beast’s maw burned hot as hellfire, breathing smoke into your aching lungs, ripples of molten lava racing beneath your skin. Teeth tore into your shoulder as your hand met the ground, shaking fingers settling into the grooves of the concrete like cold tiles. Death’s talons wrapped around your throat as a cry twisted from your larynx, pointed nails morphing to scalpels and tearing down your sternum, splitting open your ribs and baring your bleeding heart.

Crimson freckled the concrete, splatters of your blood landing hot and thick against the back of your hand as cold washed over each limb, the darkness creeping in from the corners of the alleys. You reached your free hand to your forehead, and nearly cried out again in pain, but you couldn’t speak; something sharp wedged itself between your fingers, something sticky attaching webs of hair against your clammy palm.

Your hand came away with a shard of glass protruding from the stretch of skin between your fingers, red dribbling down flesh too pale to be living.

Your stomach buckled, and you curled in on yourself, eyes rolling to the back of your throbbing skull and voices pouring in like a tide.

Get back here! She’s running. Running away. Where does she think she’s going? She’s not going anywhere. She can’t escape us. You can’t escape us.

Patients rattled the bars of their cages, threw themselves against their padded walls. Screeched warnings and mournful wails and haunted cries into the stale air of the hospital, into the icy chill of night.

Fingers seized into talons as they closed around your ears, attempting to block out the noise as it built into a terrifying crescendo, wails and whispers melding together as if the darkness were mocking you but the chill that swathed your impotent form reminded you of your isolation.

GET OUT! your lips parted to say but fell silent upon the words of the damned. Let me go. Let me go, let me go.

Warmth brushed your shoulder, and you blinked saline from your eyes, streaking salt down your lip, dampened hair falling over blurry vision as you looked up to the hand held to you in the darkness. The white cuff of a shirt disappearing beneath a black suit.

Just grab hold of my hand. I will lead you through this wonderland.

And his voice, soft and warm and human, cut through the noise. Hollowed a path through the tunnel of voices and breathed life into lungs that gasped for air. Sent a tremble of fear through death’s icy talons and made the demons crawl back into the earth.

I’m here, he said.

You couldn’t straighten your claw-like grip as it brushed the warmth of his hand, but his fingers entwined in yours and the glass split his palm and bled over your knuckles and he pulled, your shoulder screaming in pain and your legs wobbly beneath you, but you stood.

Your fingers balled into a fist, the touch of his hand dissolving like a pill in water, like sutures that held you to together for one moment only to leave you in pieces, scarred and bruised and broken. For a moment, you thought you’d fall again.

Faintly, a glow emerged from the blackness, silhouetting the lazy fall of a feather, so tranquil in contrast to the tendrils of ink black that writhed in your peripheral. You swiped a hand out to the feather, its softness akin to his hand, but the voices hissed at you to look up.

The jagged peaks of the skyscrapers groaned above, folding in across the dim sky and curling into black tides that came crashing around you as pressure mounted in your skull.

The darkness devoured you. 

Water up to my knees. But sharks are swimming in the sea.

The ocean came flooding in around you, dampness seeping into the cuffs of your trousers, rising as the blackness pressed in around you. Ahead, the light glinted yellow, casting a thin line of white against the waves. The feather bobbed along the surface, chased by current that now buffeted the backs of your knees.

One foot placed before the other, you waded through the water, each step weighing heavier than the last. Each time, the light ahead grew just a little brighter, though the sides of your vision darker.

Wretched creatures began to emerge from the darkness, hissing and snarling and reaching for you in tendrils of smoke and ink. Gravity began to pull you downward, the current guiding you forwards as the alleyway morphed into a tunnel, and the voices of the underworld rang louder in your skull as you descended into the bowels of the city.

She’s heading into the darkness. The rot.

A giggle, echoing against the walls of the chamber that reeked of all things barren and desolate. Her mind’s a disease.

The reach of death grew thick here, in twisted ropes and vines that swallowed the arched ceiling, that bore down on you like snakes and streaked through the sea like eels of tar, the water itself no longer seeming so heavy in comparison as they engulfed each limb. Tightening. Shuddering.

She can’t get very far. She’s killing herself.

She has to. She has to live.

The voices were starting to argue.

Some were even voices you knew; they came to you past the iron bars nestled into pockets of your memories, depressions in the walls – people you’d known in that awful place cried out to you, cursed you, their faces fuzzy but still recognisable even in the darkness. Fellow souls trapped in the place that knew not of the sun’s warmth against your skin or the whistle of freedom through the wind.

Look. Look, girl.

Your brow furrowed, and your eyes scanned the darkness. With each face they landed on, the symphony of wails seemed to spike in volume along to the frantic thud of your heart, the little weaving line of a monitor etching itself across your mind’s eye.

Not there. No, not there.

Can’t she feel it?

It’s too late. The rot has her.

Soon it will reach her soul.

Your heart came lurching to a burning throat as the waters stirred and a creature emerged from their murky depths, slivers of metal protruding from its back before it disappeared, for half a moment resembling the wicked tips of syringes that still pricked your swiftly numbing skin.

Tearing your hands from the water, you froze, paralysis seeping in to every pore.

Ink tendrils snaked across the pallor of your flesh. From your fingertips to your elbows, the rot had taken you. It tightened round your forearm, your fingers turning completely numb.

You screamed.

Shhhhh, he soothed. Just come to me, darling. I’ll make it all better.

“JONATHAN!” Your mangled cry turned into something intelligible, the name sweet like honey on your tongue despite the bitterness of bile at the back of your throat.

Just follow my yellow light. And ignore all those big warning signs.

You began to slosh through the water, seeking him out in a frenzy, your teeth gritting as the walls of your skull began to cave in, as the rot spread to your shoulders and turned the water to pitch.

And at last, you saw him. Like the feather, silhouetted by the light, but unmistakably him. He paused, looking over his shoulder, strands of his black hair wisping this way and that. His face was shadowed, the sockets of his eyes black. The frames of his glasses glinted silver in the dark, like the teeth, the scalpels.

And he disappeared round the corner that twisted, walls shifting and shuddering as if forming a maze for a path.

Death’s icy fingers pried their way beneath your skin as the cold seeped past your blood and bones and settled somewhere deep inside the dwindling warmth of your soul. Freed from the water at last, you turned the corner and raised a rot-wreathed hand to the light fractured by a criss-cross pattern that reminded you of the bars of the asylum’s gate.

And the damp air became dry and musty, and the sewers morphed into dingy halls, alabaster wallpaper peeling back to reveal the black rot. Your pace quickened as these walls closed in, groaning with curses of the damned.

Just a little farther, the soothing, slightly-lilted baritones of his voice encouraged you on, but every turn you made down the narrowing halls, he managed to evade you, disappearing just out of reach. At the end of each hallway, what must’ve been a sewer drain and not a gate yawned from the blackness, little pockets of light stretching wider with each turn.

The feather crunched beneath your toes.

Fingers wrapped around the bars of the gate, and the hinges squealed as it swung open, your feet slotting into indentations along the walls as you desperately attempted to pull yourself up.

Warmth made you shiver in your cold sweat, and whispers funnelled into thin threads and lay buried beneath the ground as his hand met yours. In the faint glimmer of the light, you witnessed the rot dissipate, chased away by his touch. Purified.

“Jonathan,” you breathed, pulled flush to his chest, the mint of his breath raking across your lashes and the familiarity of his musk inhaled deeply through flared nostrils. You buried your face in his wrinkled tie and dress shirt and sobbed, your tears still tasting like saline. You savoured this moment, trembling beneath his touch, his hand petting the back of your dampened hair. You pulled away only as he hissed in pain.

“Jonathan, I’m scared,” you whimpered, guilty that you had seemed to wound him but caring only for sanctuary in this moment in which you knew nothing but fear. “Please don’t leave me. I’m so, so scared.”

“I know you are,” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “But you have to keep going.”

“Where? Where are you taking me?” You stared into the hollows of his eyes, still pitch black past the glint of those silver frames. Why couldn’t you properly see him? Could he see you? Was he just another shadow, a trick of light on the wall?   

Somewhere deep in the dark, a howling beast hears us talk.

Sirens wailed from the alley behind, and your blood ran cold. Jonathan stepped away, his touch tearing from yours almost painfully. Like he’d left the shards of glass in your palms.

“Don’t let them take me!” You pleaded, stumbling forward through the darkness. “I can’t go back! I can’t! COME BACK!”

She’s so afraid. So pathetic. She can’t do this without him.

The light grew in intensity, tinted more gold now than yellow, bathing the walls in a soft glow as they drew impossibly close, tapering the air in your lungs, building the pressure against your temples until your shoulders sagged under the weight of fatigue and white-hot fire cleaved your skull in two.

Jonathan paused, and turned. “Close your eyes,” he told you. “It’s not so dark here when you embrace it.”

I dare you to close your eyes. And see all the colours in disguise.

“NO!” You screeched, afraid that if you so much as blinked, he’d disappear, and you’d be lost to the darkness forever. You lurched forward on your heel, wedging yourself between the shuddering walls that closed in around you, following the same – and only path – he had taken. Turning sideways, you gulped in a breath of air, fingers scraping madly against the brick walls as the tide beginning to pool again round your ankles. The sky collapsed, pinning you, forcing your only breath from your lungs and snapping your ribs around your stuttering heart.

She’s gone. She won’t make it. She can’t reach him.

The air grew stuffy, stale. Your own breath bounced off the walls and flushed your cold, tear-streaked cheeks.

“Just trust me,” Jonathan said. “Just let go.”

Running into the night. The earth is shaking and I see a light.

With the darkness claiming you and the ground beneath you quaking with wrath, the howls of the damned echoing through a familiar hall, the world swaying on its axis, you had no choice but to suffocate your fear, to shutter your eyes closed on the light that seeped through the crack in the walls, warm against your skin in the cold dread of night.

She’s giving up.

She’s fighting.

She wants to die.

She wants to live.

The yellow-gold exploded across the backs of your eyelids, streaking like fireworks along the pitch black. Your skull still throbbed in pain, and your lips parted, the sound of a window banging against old hinges as death whispered to you through the alleys, the sewers, the hallways.

Next time.

Jonathan’s touch met your clammy palm, and the world fell silent, the walls disappearing around you and the emptiness of air spilling around your limbs.

I’m here, he reminded you.

The light is blinding my eyes, as the soft walls eat us alive.

Your eyelids peeled back to reveal the checkered, rose pattern of your wallpaper, the bright fluorescents of the bathroom, the blue eyes that bore into your own past silver frames. Slivers of ice encroaching on ink black pupils, cold and calculating yet echoing a familiar warmth.

He loosened the makeshift tourniquet from your arm, pins and needles racing from your fingertips to your elbow. A syringe of your favourite poison lay on the bathroom tile, beige powder swirling in a sea of saline.

“Come back to me. Come back to me, please,” he begged, as if for this moment alone, he allowed himself to believe in the higher power you knew he cursed.

Water seeped into your clothing like the sea of pitch, spilling from the bathtub that you had left on. It carried little rivulets of crimson around a minefield of glass. He didn’t seem very concerned with turning it off right now, despite always bitching at you about saving electricity or water. His eyes were on you, and only you.

“Jonathan,” you mumbled weakly, though you thought you screamed; your eyelids fluttered and your heart pounded faster in your chest as the darkness threatened to spill across your vision again. Your nails dug past the fabric of his suit, gripping his arm tight so that he could never let you go.

“I’m here,” he breathed, and reached his other hand around your neck to cup your head, to bring you forward. You glimpsed the white ceramic of the bathroom sink, bloodied where you’d tried to steady yourself with your hand after you’d bashed your skull against the mirror – your ineffectual attempt to cast the demons out. Glass shards lay scattered against the tile. Fragments of your broken reflection.

You still remembered the haunted look you’d hoped to banish from your eyes.

“You have to get your head out of that place,” he murmured against your scalp, his fingers bloody and sticky as he brushed shards of glass from your hair, seemingly immune to the pain. “You’re not in hospital anymore. You’re here. With me. You have to come back to me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “I can’t escape them,” you admitted, voice a mere whimper. “I can’t escape it. You’re here to take me back, aren’t you? You’re gonna lock me up.”

For a moment, you really thought that he might; his palm still rested, warm and bleeding, against your cheek, but his cold blue eyes studied you not as his lover but as his patient, assessing your condition. He sighed, as if disappointed. Shame crawled its way beneath your skin like the cockroaches that had infested the asylum’s lower wards. You had always been so desperate for his approval, he rarely saw this side of you since your rehabilitation. It wasn’t until slivers of ice shattered into twin pools of blue fire that relief began to seep into you, slow and warm but whelming.

“No. No, I’m not,” he said, voice gentle, soothing. Blue eyes glanced to your head again. “Though, you are showing symptoms of a concussion…”

Your heart sped in your chest, and the icy talons of death speared your soul, the darkness hedging the borders of your vision. Innerved by your fear, you reached for the bottle of tiny white pills that lay open, haphazard next to you. But the warmth of his hand left your face, and your fingers clenched around nothing. In a blur of movement, Jonathan threw the bottle at the toilet and it clattered against the back of the seat. You jolted, gasping, wincing as the jagged teeth of the beast sliced through your clothing.

“You prescribed me those,” you told him. “They’re supposed to make me better. You said so yourself.”

“I’ll fill you a new prescription tomorrow. Taper you off. They were no good for you,” he said, and laced his fingers through the bloodied locks of your hair. Pulled your forehead to his so that your breaths became one, and the demons in your skull grew muffled, and his warmth chased away the icy touch of death.

“What am I gonna do?” you whimpered, sobbing, hands grasping feebly at whatever you could grab hold of – his sleeve, his tie, his collar. You felt as if your soul, your mind, were laying in fragments around you like the glass, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t piece them back together. “I just want to be free. I just want to be okay.”

“I know.” He inhaled, closing his eyes, and his grip tightened on your hair, scalp stinging slightly at the almost needy action. Like in this moment he was more afraid of losing you than you were him.

Even he thinks she’s a lost cause.

And Jonathan was never one to utter false truths; because you knew this about him, his silence unnerved you. But finally, after what could’ve been hours or minutes of your pitiful sobbing and the endless drone of the tub, the trickling of water against the tile, he said,

“I’ll be right here, darling. All you need to do is take my hand.” The warmth of his palm slotted into your own, and you wove your fingers so tight that your knuckles turned white around the blood that trickled down both your wrists from the jagged glass that barbed your flesh. A seal. A pact.

“I will see you through this,” he said. “All of it. I promise.”

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[ablednt]

1) Is there any media you think did explicitly plural characters well? 2) Is there any media you think handled CSA well (I think you mentioned Persona 5 once but I can’t find that post). 3) How do you think the “into the mindscape” plot can work well (either headspace or metaphorical, and how do you make it clear if it’s the latter?)

1) in terms of like, explicitly stated in a "this character is a system I'm writing about a system this is a plural system"....no I cannot think of any unless we count indie OCs from unpublished works but I don't really in this case. The closest to being explicitly plural I can think of is I'm actually quite fond of how systemhood is portrayed in Omori (it's technically not explicitly stated but the call the inworld headspace for a reason yk?). I just think that for the most part we aren't really in a place yet where most plural creators are A) aware of their plurality and B) safe to canonize it rather than providing subtext and hints.

3) (2 got too long to put in the middle) I honestly just like basically every iteration of this trope and especially how much plural coding goes into it. Most of the people making it do seem to be plural in that they cannot imagine a mind in which there is only one person or one version of a person, it really speaks to the theory side of plurality, an exploration of what it means for the human brain. The only times I think it's executed badly is when it's deliberately plural and made by singlets because then we get stuff like the abomination that is total drama islands "literally a brain with gross bits all over the place" headspace." I like them when they're metaphorical and don't rely too much on coherence one just because it's fun and the trope doesn't take itself all too seriously generally and also because our headspace tends to have a slightly incoherent, dream-like quality so it feels more accurate that way.

2) Yes but to a point. The bar is absolutely in the floor when it comes to representation of CSA victims and survivors so I always feel like I'm praising media for the bare minimum and I've never truly felt fully seen by any portrayal and my opinion on that hasn't changed but...! I do have a slightly better outlook on some medias than I did the last time I was talking about this. (Mild spoilers for persona 5 and major spoilers for revolutionary girl utena, discussion of CSA and violence)

Persona 5 was I think, perhaps the best in terms of showing the character moving on to having a full life and character arc unconnected to their trauma without shelving it unrealistically. Ann gets closure within the first proper arc of her story and is able to get justice, and when she initially refuses to kill her abuser I was expecting this to be some stupid "I heal by forgiveness" bullshit but her reasoning of "Actually I want him to suffer worse than death instead of giving him an out lol" was iconic. After that she remains traumatized but there's a lot more to her character than just that which is sadly quite rare and I actually surprisingly ADORED seeing her go to therapy in p5 royal and being able to officially just talk about her feelings and how terrible everything was.

HOWEVER persona 5 loses all of what would have been really powerful for two reasons. One is that they sexualize the hell out of Ann for comedic relief (especially by putting her in situations where she must act sexual when she does not actually want to) and kind of just for no reason, which turns out being super disparaging after such powerful build up. But more importantly because one of the romance options for the main character who is her classmate is with one of his teachers (who I have super complex feelings about because most people hate the character for this but I don't I think she had a lot of potential and it's really fucking sus that they made their only sex worker character be available for romancing a whole child who is also her student, I feel like as a character she was done just as dirty by this option as the other characters were) so it's like... what is it only abuse and disgusting if it's a blatantly creepy man? Is it a case of "boys want to be sexually abused so it's fine" or what? What message are we supposed to be taking from this?

On another note the media that grew on me a LOT since I was last discussing this was Revolutionary Girl Utena, which remains incredibly relevant despite having a certain 90s crust on it/aff. Before whilst I was fond of the ideas it was presenting I felt betrayed that we never saw a follow up on Anthy's freedom, she just, quietly leaves without much else in terms of closure and by the time any other installments of the story exist it's either a reboot entirely or another timeline in a timeloop and that's not bad but after so much pain it felt lacking.

But it really grew on me as I started to look at the purpose of this story differently. Initially I felt like it was just an exploration of what experiencing CSA is like without any other underlining message, it was accurate to my experiences, sure, but it made me feel hopeless like there wasn't a point to it other than to sit with that pain.

But what I realized more recently is that RGU is a love-letter for the meaning you can find within trauma. The message of RGU isn't "if you've gone through abuse there's a better tomorrow for you," it doesn't deny that either but it's left very uncertain on that point.

But instead it does something that I haven't really seen from other depictions of CSA victims in that it lets its characters be Messy. Like so fucking messy without demonizing them for it? It says, boldly, and unapologetically, that you deserved to be loved even if you lash out due to abuse, even if you don't fit into the role of an "acceptable" abuse victim.

It says, "here's two abuse victims who love each other so much that when Anthy stabs Utena through the back to kill her, all Utena can think to do is reach for her hand, not even the thought of having been betrayed present." It says "even if you never get closure, even if you were to completely disappear right now, even if nothing good lasts from this, right now matters, and the relationships you have with fellow survivors matter."

I also find the exploration of CSA within the story to be suitably complex and find I actually quite like so many of the girls at Ohtori being victims of Akio (and Touga) because it gives each character a lot more room to be messy in their own way without feeling like it's making a statement on all survivors/victims.

Kozue says, "when you live in an impure world you need to become unpure to get what you want." She embraces her trauma, she glorifies it, and this isn't really portrayed as problematic so much as being like "this is a child and she is incredibly broken and trying her goddamn best to keep it together, but she doesn't know what she wants and she doesn't know what to do other than to go along with everything that makes her feel in control"

Nanami on the other hand tries desperately to regain her sense of grace and dignity all the while reality is crumbling around her and she slowly realizes that the only foundation she has (her abuser) is only making her more unstable. By the end of it she's so goddamn weary she can't even find it in her to lash out at anyone anymore, she wants out and so she starts to withdraw.

Wakaba's trauma is a lot more ambiguous. On the surface, what she's going through is kind of the most normal in the show and she seems well adjusted and healthy... until you realize that she's still being groomed by the overall culture of the school which is something that ALSO basically never gets addressed both in media and irl how like. You can be groomed without ever having an abuser, how we are all victims of pedophilia culture and it causes us to be complicit in others abuse. She falls apart because she's balancing her desire to not get hurt with her desire to have a place within society, she flirts with grown men to fit in, to feel like she's more mature and more confident than she actually is.

And of course in the center we have Anthy and Utena.

Anthy is an exploration of the way that victims are demonized and the roles that they inevitably play to survive. To say that all of her submissiveness and kindness and long-suffering is a front she's putting up and she's actually conceited and toxic and hurtful is a misinterpretation of the entire point of the show. She's an embodiment of everything that this world hates- a child who has realistic emotions and needs that inconvenience others.

Every "evil" act she commits is something she does for Akio because she's never had a choice other than serving his interests. She may be more powerful than him, she may have every physical ability to leave but... she doesn't realize that because she's been made to feel inferior to him for so goddamn long and she's a 14 year old child so of course she's going to feel restricted and like she has no choice but to appeal to her abuser (yes she's immortal but I think anyone who got the takeaway that she's somehow an adult is seriously misinterpreting the entire point of "no one actually ages at this school time simply isn't passing.") She plays into the part of the perfect abuse victim because she wants and needs to feel loved, she needs to feel valuable, and when she doesn't uphold this image when she has problems when she's not okay that's when she's being stabbed with million of swords to receive all of humanity's hatred and that's like. SUCH a strong way to express what it FEELS like to be a survivor in a society where abuse victims are only supported superficially.

And then Utena's is an exploration of what grooming feels like itself. Using the main, viewpoint, character to explore what it's like to be groomed is actually pretty rare I feel like but they executed it perfectly. It's so realistically done with the decent into Akio being this abusive villain so gradual that a lot of viewers who aren't familiar with sexual abuse and grooming will watch it and be like "damn that was weird I didn't get that at all lol" because they didn't really have the time to process what they were watching just like Utena barely had time to process what was happening to her.

He seems like a good guy, he seems kind to Anthy and she seems to trust him. He welcomes Utena into his home, he just wants her to feel loved and safe, right? When she experiences transphobia at school he comes to her aid, he admires her for her gender-nonconformity after all.

But then suddenly she starts to feel afraid of him and she doesn't understand why, she starts getting intrusive thoughts about the two of them together romantically, and she knows that's wrong but she isn't thinking about her age in the equation because why would she? She's mature, she doesn't have parents, she's old enough to fight to the death to protect her best friend so she ought to be old enough for an adult relationship right? That's a non issue to her, because she's too young to realize how young she is, but she still inherently knows it's wrong.

And she tries to voice this, she tries so goddamn hard. She says "aren't you kind of a pervert?" and he responds with (very paraphrased) "I am but you're just as deviant as I am, your being nonbinary is the same as my being a pedophile."

And like. She's 14, she's the only openly queer person she's ever met, he's been supportive before now so like.... he's gotta be right, doesn't he? There's not argument that can be made to this when he's leaning over her to pin her down and she's dissociating too hard to think straight.

Watching her spiral deeper into depression as she faces more and more abuse feels intimate, like, at no point do her actions not make perfect sense from the perspective of a grooming victim and that's something that you really don't get from so many media. And is is empowering to see her pull herself out of this and to see him for what he is, the resulting sword fight, and the way she ignores him completely as she tries one last time to reach Anthy and convince her that she deserves better than this, that all means something even if her ending isn't a happy one.

The series is a comforting one for me when I'm already triggered because it speaks to the tired cynic in me that knows that on a societal level that things aren't getting better or safer, that I'm never going to get rid of these ptsd symptoms because I am inherently retraumatized by how widespread this kind of trauma is. In that respect I'm Anthy in her coffin and Utena is reaching for me, and telling me that my friendships, my relationships with equally traumatized people no matter how hard and messy still matters. And that's a message that I just haven't seen anywhere else that you can find some happiness within an abusive environment and that still means something, even if you can't find anything else.

It's definitely not perfect and it doesn't fix the fact that I have yet to see any media with explicitly explored CSA where the victim is able to have not just a happy ending but a full continuation of their life outside their trauma in which they can heal and find support and a kinder world, I don't have any comfort media that does that for me which sucks a LOT. But Utena does make me feel a little better when I start to feel really hopeless about everything.

[aobawilliams]

Au for the ask game: future holders of ofa have access to the mindscape and vestige ghost projection from birth on, meaning that Izuku grows up with the vestiges serving a constant fixture in his life as did All Might. When the quirk is passed on so are the vestiges, so the shift may be a bit jarring for living previous holders

[Send me an AU I’ll send you headcanons]

That's such a fun idea tbh djdjdj

1 - Toshi has always been able to access the vestige world in his dreams, as far as he can remember. This is where he first met Nana, though at the time she was still a beginning of a shade (similar to Vestige Might, but less developped. More like an Idea.)

2 - After Nana dies, his grief gets attenuated by the fact he can still see her, as she slowly get more and more settled in the vestige world. The first time Gran Torino hears him talking to Nana after her death, he thinks it's just the grief working and probably works him harder as a result (after all, you can't feel grief if you're too tired to think. It worked for him, didn't it.)

3 - All Might feel when Izuku is born/first aware of the vestige world, though he cannot see him in it. Since OfA is a lot stronger, Izuku has an easier access to the vestige world in his dreams, he can see Vestige Might, and how he's slowly getting more and more formed through the years. (All Might has an harder access to the dream vestige world, but a huge part is also due to the fact All Might doesn't sleep/rest)

4 - After passing on OfA, the shift is gradual. Until Kamino, and Toshinori turns expecting to talk to any of the vestiges and there is no one. And they stop appearing to him altogether. On the opposite, he finds it easier to access the vestige dream world, as Vestige Might gets more and more conscious.

5 - The first time Izuku sees Vestige Might in the real world, he freaks out. Hard. He literally ran through campus to All Might's dorm door, almost knocking it out until a just-woken-up All Might opens the door to him.

[animehime94]

THANKS TO THEM I'M BAWLING RN

Here it's 8 AM in the morning and I just finished watching Thanks to Them.

I did guess this episode would be about Luz' friends discovering human world and it would end in a cliffhanger with Belos.

BUT IT STILL DESTROYED ME 🥺😭🥺😭🥺😭

They were learning Spanish with "the scary owl" aka Duolingo 😅 And Hunter was trying to learn how to sew like Dadrius I- 🥺

I actually wanted everyone to go to school with Luz and see how human schools work. But it didn't happen, and Luz seemed miserable there compared to Hexside.

Another interesting thing was Camilla's dream about Luz. She loves her just the way she is, and actually enjoys her creative side. But everyone else in human realm sees Luz as a failure and such comments overwhelmed her. I would say this is an accurate symbol of having a child with special needs AND depression / anxiety.

Believe me or not, I get the exact feeling of drowning in deep waters when everything feels overwhelming to me. It's like I can't breathe and I sink deeper in my mindscape. But I always find a way to breathe. To get out of there. And it's thanks to shows like TOH 🥹

I really appreciate Dana and TOH crew for making one of the best shows I have ever seen in my entire life. If I was able to grow up with this, if I was in my childhood, I would have a lot more self confidence. But it's not too late, even as an adult and as a teacher I am learning a lot.

Hunter's PTSD is valid. He did his best to cope with Belos' existence but things took an unexpected turn.

The sacrifice was already guessed by the fandom but it still broke my heart and I'm still crying as I write this post.

I'm really sorry if my comments or thoughts don't make sense. It's just my way of being open with how I feel and I really want to share my thoughts as I remember them.

I wouldn't be able to talk to the people around me about these things. I'm in a toxic situation where my family is against my lifestyle. We are polar opposites and they don't get me. But I know this fandom will. I'm sure someone will be able to relate to it. Just like how I could relate to both Luz and Camilla.

Speaking of them, the ending took me by surprise. I didn't expect them to be together. I thought they would be seperated once again, but I guess this proves how much Camilla cares about her children. Yes. Her children. She is a proud mom of 6 teenagers 🥹

I hope she will be able to meet Eda, King and Principal Bump. I really want Camilla to see they love and understand Luz the way she is. And hearing Bump's comments would reassure her that Luz belongs there. Maybe she can even help with the Collector by like... being the awesome mom she is and telling them bedtime stories. Because I can't see them as an evil character. They just look like a lonely kid with divine powers to me.

Last but not least, I hope they destroy Belos for good. He deserves the worst after all the evil shit he did 🤬

[dbldipper]

the horror that crossed dipper's face upon bill informing him he had visited pacifica as her god damn PARENTS was incomparable to any display of discomfort he had shown previous. ❛ you sick fuck, ❜ the man spat, a pure rage rattling his ribcage, a protective rage unlike anything he had ever felt swelling in his chest— unable to stop it from coming out full force. ❛ where you too cowardly to show her it was you ?? scared she was going to tell me that you were here before you could reveal that to me YOURSELF ?? ❜ dipper wasn't trying to hide it anymore, he couldn't if he wanted to, it was written all over his face.

dipper wanted to hit something, hit BILL, scream until his throat was raw— until the flames on his arm swallowed his entire body whole and left him as nothing more than a pile of ash.... but dipper silenced himself as bill went on again, the searing pain in his arm that had been momentarily forgotten now coming back full force as it ripped through him once more, crumpling back down to his knees— torso falling forward as he braced his other hand against the earth, eyes screwing themselves shut. he felt the shake of the ground once more, looking up as statues began to pepper the plane of his mindscape faster than he could keep track of, his gaze sporadically tracking them, trying to make note of who was appearing.

the man was sent scrambling when the ground began to peel back, trying to find patches of untouched earth to stay planted on, but there was no escaping the tens, hundreds, thousands of eyes that blinked open— staring at him, tracking him, watching him. looking up at bill, dipper couldn't even begin to process what he was feeling. the anger was blinding, but there was something beneath it as well, and his mouth opened to voice it before he was crippled by a new pain piercing through the bone of his forearm— splintering up until it struck his shoulder, the agonizing cry ripping from him unlike any that had come in the past. if the visual of the eye embedded in muscle wasn't enough, the pull on the fibers each time it blinked at him had him dizzy with nauseas. ❛ what is this about ?? the journals ?? ❜ dipper howled, barely able to keep his head up, growling through the unforgiving pain bill was putting him through. this was a dream, he knew that, but it didn't make the pain, the anger, the fear he felt any less real. fuck bill and his persistent need to be a cryptic, satantic ASSHOLE.

❛ what CHOICE are you talking about ?? ❜

another laugh escapes from all directions with every intention to dig its way further into dipper's skull, as if the other means of torture aren't enough. but, wow, he's pathetic! i mean, all those dramatics over a girl who isn't even really here.

"CHILL. I JUST SAID HI!" yeesh, he's acting like he already turned her into a corpse! "... AS HER PARENTS! I THOUGHT SHE'D BE MORE COMFORTABLE SEEING SOMEONE FAMILIAR, Y'KNOW?" it's hardly as if pacifica is special – plenty of lucky evermore residents got their dreams invaded once or twice. only members of the pines family are lucky enough to have gotten so many repeat visits in the last few decades.

glowing eyes roll, slit pupils spinning as dipper tries to rationalize himself into calming down, or some other stupid tactic that clearly isn't working for him. "YOU SAW ME – I'VE GOT A PHYSICAL FORM!" a gesture to the sack of flesh he's currently occupying both in reality and the dreamscape, which once felt so restricting, but now, even if he is stuck in this damn town, he appreciates the benefit of not even having to possess people to interact with the world.

"AND I'VE MADE LOTS OF NEW F̸̪̚R̶̤̻̂I̶͚̅̚Ẹ̵̞͇̀͛͗N̷̰̮̞̔͑D̶͖̆ͅŞ̸͙̘̂̈̊." again, his grin stretches impossibly wide, the last word echoing as statues resembling residents of evermore briefly flicker into existence.

"BUT, C'MON KID, WHY WOULD I HURT BLONDIE FOR NO REASON?" sure, he's killed plenty for no purpose aside from gaining brief amusement, but he'd at least make dipper watch!

"I'VE BEEN W̵̫͇̯͊Ạ̴͑̚ͅŢ̸̙͖̏͊͠C̶̱̀̍H̸̠͒I̶̻̿N̵̟̝̊͒̀Ĝ̶̙͜ ̷̧͇͂̈Ŷ̵̩̌̅O̷͇̭̎́U̶̼̞̾, PINE TREE." patches of the blazing ground are torn apart to reveal eyes blinking open, all glued upon dipper – and each statue turns to stare at him, still frozen, but with their pupils turning to slits, eyes aglow. a single eye bursts from the wound in dipper's arm, unnaturally embedded in his skin as the flesh surrounding it still attempts to pull itself away from muscle. "I CAN BE PATIENT... I HAVE BEEN PATIENT. BUT IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO M̴̫̾À̵̬̃K̶̝̒Ḙ̶̈́ ̵̫̳̃ Y̶̘͊͋Ö̸̙͈̞́́̐U̸̫̥̮̓̏R̷͖̺̓̈͜ ̷̫͗̈́ C̷̥̞̄̐Ȟ̵̦O̴̙̲̻̎͋̕Ȋ̷͇̦C̷̼͛͐͝E̷͓̼͑̂͝."

[calehenituseappreciation]

Ive seen a lot of Dream (and usually Techno and Phil too) as gods au (i have one too dw) but all of you are sleeping on the funniest option.

Tommy is the god.

Tommy.

hes the only one in that galaxy (other than drista ofc)

Just imagine how fucking funny it is like 

it would be so fucking hilarious

and tommy just doesnt tell them

so techno is just there making all these blood god jokes and jokingly telling tommy to serve him and tommys just laughing

imagine a god in the form of a chaotic 16 year old racoon gremlin just walts into your land commits arson and gets banned, only to come back with another person who he helps start a nation for drugs?

imagine how fucking funny it is

just

imagine tubbo banning a literal god from his lands and he just doesnt come back? he just plays by the rules? then goes and like sits in the corner all sad because some humans/dreamons told him to leave

ranboo, just joining the server: hi-  a chaotic gremlin god: wanna commit arson with me?  ranboo, just trying to vibe and maybe not disturb this god: sure 

Phil and Ranboo recongnize Tommy as a god on sight.

Everyone else just refuses to believe it. hes Tommy. Tommyinnit. hes just weird lol

And Drista being a fucking chaotic blood god? 

drista is open about her godhood and does not hesitate to spawn blocks

Drista finds Dream and decides she likes this small human, and dream just has to deal with it lmao.

drista and tommy are both born at the same time.

Tommy is a god of music, chaos, war and theivery (the last one bc he is a BITCH)

Drista is the blood god, chaos, deception, and theatre

okay but imagine the sbi interactions... like ig in this au tommy joins at like 12/13 years of age (in their minds) so he doesnt really grow much 

and like tommy, a literal god, just claiming phil as his father???

phil, in his house making eggs, assuming one of his sons woke up and came to the kitchen, not looking: hey son  tommy, from their couch, already deciding hes phils son now: whats up dad? phil: looks up at tommy who are you tommy: idk dad, who am i  phil: *stares at tommy for a second* eh i made extra eggs you can stay 

ASJIDGASUIOG IMAGINE TOMMY TELLING THEM HES A GOD BUT THEY THINK HES JOKING AND IGNORE HIM

everyone on the server: tommy is the youngest! tommy, as old as the universe: no im not!!!! im not a child!!!! he doesnt pout because pouting is for children and hes not a child but hes pouting tubbo: lol im older than you by a month tommy dont try to hide it tommy: im not a child!!!! techno: laughs

tommy doesn't try to hide that hes a god just its tommy

thats all the evedince anyone needs to think tommy isnt a god or powerful its like mcc hes good but only when he doesnt throw for content

quackity: sees drista written in bedrock lmao drista visited? tommy: yeah! i wrote that for her!  quackity: snorts yeahhhh sureee tommy

imagine like how fucking funny it is jsut like 

a fucking chaotic god breaks into your house androbs you makes a room under your house and decides to live in your floorboards

imagine dream like trying to manipulate tommy, and tommy a fucking anchient diety immeditly recongnizes what hes doing

but decides to play along for the angst and giggles and then actually gets mad when no one fucking cares for his theatrics

tommy, storming off to technos base to rob and build under: >:///// cant believe none of them acknoledged my  deppression 

i love that tommy stills robs everyone, he doesnt need to he can spawn in anything he wants

he just does it for the sport of robbery

JAKOGFSDOH

THE HOLY LAND

dream: im god actually tommy: thats so fucking funny lets make a cult about that :)  dream: see! look! im god! and jesus!  tommy: wheezing

imagine tommy getting stressed and letting go of his mortal form

Tommy, his human form peeling away, showing his actual form a bit: WH̸͘A͠T̷ ̶̢T͞H͢E ̡͘F̴̵͘Ù̧C͜K҉ ̶T͘͜͞E͟CHǸ͏Ǫ  Techno: HAH?

tommy just saw tubbo and got emotionally attached

Tommy, a literal god: hello Tubbo: oh hi do you like my pet bee? Tommy: you’re mine now Tubbo: im okay with this

tommy, a bored god: gives techno shapeshifting powers  techno, not even caring: changes into more human to pig-ishg forms as he wishes this is my life now ig 

phil lets tommy do fuck all in exile bc he knows hes a god hes fine

phil: IDC IF YOURE A GOD! YOU WILL DO THE DISHES NOW YOUNG MAN! tommy: grumbles but does them

phil is the only one who can control tommy

god... tommy... with star freckles... on his human form... (as well as his god one)

tommy: f̷͛͠a̵̋t̵̒̑h̸̚e̶̓͝r̸͊ ̸̐̒i̴ ̸̅̿d̷̉͆o̵͂͋ ̵̛̆ñ̸̾o̶��́t̸̎́ w̶͆͘i̴͠s̵̓̈́h̸͗́ ̵̯͗f̶͋́ő̴͑r̷̐̌ ̶͝é̵̽g̸͊͂g̵̒s̷͂̃  phil: idc, eat your goddamn eggs tommy: pouts

tommy, despite being able to get supplies himself by fucking spawning them in: hey tubbo? we need supplies 

In this au ig like if a god claims you you get a mark on your skin showing that. Drista’s would be like a green crown, Tommys would be a red and white disk (white as the outer ring and red as the center) (its different enough that if you don’t realise tommy is a god you wouldnt realise whos it is) (schlatt is the only one who never had one which shoulda been a sign dude :/)

Dream has two from the beginning, everyone else has only one, well until they meet drista. (sbi have had one since they met tommy, though they dont remember the first time they met tommy)

wait what if tommy like found them all as children one by one and later kinda pulled some strings to get them all in one kingdom. (he still joined sbi through forcing phil to adopt him) 

OKAY BUT IMAGINE IF TOMMY MET TECHNO WHEN TECHNO WAS YOUNG ENOUGH TO NOT REMEMBER

tommy would hang out with baby techno and tell him stories

once he told him the story of a man named thesus

another time he told him the story of a blood god

like for example tommys first time meeting techno would be like

(for context techno lived in a shitty village and was an orphan and it was kinda a dog eat dog place, he learned how to be strong because of it)(he was young enough that he doesn’t remember this well, just like learning about the blood god and someone giving him gold)

baby techno: sighs tommy, appearing out of nowhere: oh heyyy whyre you sad? techno: jumps turning around with a knife up ready for a fight who are you tommy: im tommy! :) techno: what do you want from me! you dont scare me! tommy: whats your name! techno: i have a knife! i'll use it! tommy: of course, thats a given, but its rude not to tell people your name techno, confused: t-technoblade? tommy: smiles thats a nice name techno: so. tommy: hm? techno: why're you here tommy: i don't have a reason. im just a traveller! techno: then why hole to this terrible village! theres nothing nice here! everyone is terrible and so are you! tommy: hmmmm i dont agree techno: what are you? a child? i thought adults were supposed to know that everyone is mean tommy: mmhmm looks at the bruise on technos face where'd you get that? techno: fight. i won. i'll win against you too! so don't try anything. tommy: of course. i would never win in a fight against a blood god techno, putting down his knife a bit, stars in his eyes: blood god? tommy: grins blood. god. i think she'd like you. techno, muttering: maybe i can give the blood god some of your blood tommy: laughs yeah, she'd defenitly find you intresting tommy: here tosses techno a golden crown at techno, he spawned it in in the moment techno: whats this? tommy: a crown, thought it suit you screams in the distance tommy: huh. i need to go. have fun lil piglin. ruffles technos hair before running off towards the screaming unbeknownst to the pig the blood god was actually the one waiting for the god he met. techno: stares at the crown 

Techno found a pouch of gold in his ‘house’ later that day. he didnt know who left it but it helped him get food for that night. (he kept the crown)

okay but imagine tommy not taking the war seriously at all, and only seeing it as a squabble between mortals, Like toddlers fighting

dream: SURENDER BY TOMMOROW OR WE'LL DECLARE WAR! wilbur: FUCK YOU WE'LL NEVER SURENDER AND JOIN YOUR SMP! Tommy: how cute

tommy doesnt realise that theyre serious until wilbur dies

tommy would usually go apeshit against anyone who dares messes with his humans, but what is he supposed to do when his humans are fighting Eachother?

wilbur: fucking goes insane and dies  tommy: hey- hey can you guys let me talk to wil for a sec? everyone else leaves tommy, unsually somber: sorry i didnt help you i forgot how easily breakable mortals are tommy: this time you wont die, and i'll make it so that you dont break again, okay? tommy: brings wilburs soul out of its body and enters his mindscape ghostbur: wakes up what- where am i? tommy: hi there ghostbur: who are you tommy: i go by a lot of names all, one, you, the world, the universe, god, but you can just call me tommy ghostbur: oh okay. who am i? tommy: you're name was wilbur soot. you were the son of philza minecraft and brother to Technoblade, Tubbo and myself. ghostbur: was? tommy: well you see, you died. ghostbur: oh... well what am i then? tommy: a ghost! well actually its your choice. would you like to continue your existance or fade away with your body? ghostbur: i dont want to fade away! tommy: smiles thats what i thought you'd say stretches his hand to wilbur ghostbur: grabs tommy hand tommy: lets go home

ghostbur doesnt remember that though

he only remembers the good

tommy wont let him remember the bad, what if he breaks again? mortals are so fragile

phil realises what tommy did as soon as he sees ghostbur 

drista, painting tommys nails (there both in god form btw) (after wilburs death btw): tommy shouldn't you of all gods realise how fragile they are?  tommy: i know just... forgot  drista: sighs and nods i get what you mean, especially with the ones we found... they act a lot like gods sometimes i forgot they arent  tommy: ikr? wait- drista here gets drista's hair out of her face you were gonna get it on my nails, anyways, don't judge me. we all know if dream died you would turn him into a ghost too drista: smirks not if you do it first, we all know you would tommy: you say that as if you wouldn't fight me to do it first  drista: .... tommy: ... drista: both of us when he dies? tommy: nods tommy: anyways my turn to do your nails 

or like tommy with ghostbur like

ghostbur: i don't like this :( tommy, a worried brother and god: whats wrong? ghostbur: everyone is mad at me and i d-dont know why- why are they mad at me tommy: theyre mad at something alivebur did ghostbur: b-but im not alivebur sniffs it hurts. i dont like it. tommy: spawns in some blue here ghostbur: whats that? tommy: its some blue! it'll help you not hurt anymore! ghostbur: how does it work? tommy: see how its blue? ghostbur: nods tommy: well its blue because it sucks up all the bad feelings! it'll help ghostbur: !!!!! ghostbur: presses the blue into his chest ghostbur: !!!!its working!!!! :D tommy: smiles good

wilbur fucking died and tommy went from annoying little brother to caring older brother

tommy just wants to help his brother :) though he doesnt realise that not letting ghostbur remember bad memories isnt good

*at logsted shire btw* ghostbur: who are you? tommy, chuckling: did you forget me already ghostbur? ghostbur: i didnt forget you! i think! you're tommy! i just... you're different tommy, looks over at ghostbur: different how? ghostbur: you're not normal are you? tommy: grins whaaaaat? you think im weirdddd? how heartbreaking... my own brother thinks im weird, this is terrible ghostbur: giggles tommy: but really, don't worry about it bur. ghostbur: you sure? tommy: yeah, dont worry about me ghostbur: smiles okay! do you want some blue anyways? tommy: giggles sure! ghostbur: grins

ghostbur isnt worried about tommy

he knows hes strong

phil having to tell tommy that he cant just not let wilbur remember the bad memories

and tommys like "what if he breaks again!" and phil hugs him and tells him to at least ask ghostbur if he wants to remember and tommys like ‘fine’

tommy: hey bur? ghostbur: yeah? tommy: do you like you're memories? ghostbur: i mean, yeah its hard not to when you only remember the good tommy, quietly: would you want to remember the bad? ghostbur: w-what brought this question on tommy: answer the question ghostbur: no- alivebur was badi shouldn't want to- tommy: but what do you want bur? wilbur, silent for a moment: yeah- yeah i do. not that i like the bad memories! they hurt... but i wish i could remember tommy: ... ghostbur: hey tommy? tommy: yeah? ghostbur, with tears in his eyes: do you think they'd be less mad at me if i could remember, maybe then i could repair my relationships, what the hell am i supposed to do when i dont even remember hurting them? tommy: what if they dont? what if you break again? ghostbur, saltily: we'll maybe i'll be able at least be able to say i know why everyone hates me tommy: i know how to get all of your memories back ghostbur, looks towards tommy in shock: you do??? tommy: nods ghostbur, voice wavering: for how long tommy: since the beginning ghostbur: and you didnt tell me tommy: i did what i thought was best. i just didnt want you to hurt anymore. ghostbur, angrily: WELL THAT CLEARLY WORKED DIDNT IT? tommy: sorry wilbur, sometimes i forget how to handle humans ghostbur: what- tommy: sighs and taps ghostbur on the forehead and ghostbur does the ghost equivilent of passing out tommy: wont hide any memories this time

ghostbur doesnt wake up, instead wilbur wakes up weither thats good or bad we'll see

wilbur, waking up with all his memories: HOLY SHIT TOMMY WASN'T KIDDING phil, who was reading beside the bed tommy placed wilbur into, which was in technos house. yes he broke into technos house with a passed out wilbur. move on.: hm? wilbur: holy shit phil: huh? yeah. wilbur: wait you knew? phil: yeah i recongnized him as soon as i saw him about 5 years ago now? wilbur: excuse me while i freak out because my little brother is an actual god

it really hits wilbur that tommy is a god later

wilbur: hey tommy? tommy: yeah? wilbur: how fucking old are you? tommy: snorts of course thats the first thing you ask wilbur: well? tommy: i dont really know the exact years since years are kind of a human thing that were invented recently wilbur: they were invented thousands of years ago- tommy: but it was around the beginning of this galaxy wilbur, softly: what the fuck

tommy telling wilbur stories about different heros and villains and different humans he met during his life.

Adsjbffsg what if Tommy made himself blonde and blue eyed and white bc thats hyow the first human he met looked like asjfhsd

and just didnt change that, despite meeting new humans, its just his defult settings.

he would totally do this tho im crying.

drista just based her human form off dream because she is his sister now. he must deal with this. trying disowning me when i look like you BITCH.

thats my take anyways later might continue this

[theothin]

Utena Movie Mindscape Sequel Theory

Taking a crack at putting this all together.

The premise of the theory is, the movie takes place some time after the show. Utena has become the target of the Swords of Hate and been sealed away elsewhere. Anthy has set off on her journey to find Utena and made her way into the place Utena is sealed, getting caught inside as well. The place Utena is sealed configures itself based on the memories of the two people trapped within it, becoming a recreation of Ohtori Academy and populating it with simulations of the people there. The movie tells the story of Utena and Anthy escaping this mindscape and finally winning the shared freedom they’d unsuccessfully sought in the anime.

Now, in fairness, dream/imagination explanations for stories are easy to claim and hard to falsify. But I think there’s enough evidence for a compelling case.

One of the first things to show up in the movie is the school’s architecture, strikingly bizarre even compared to the show’s version of the school and constantly moving with no explanation. This immediately creates the feeling of a particularly fanciful and unreal setting.

When they actually show up, Utena and Anthy look and act pretty different from the show. Utena has short hair and a more androgynous outfit, leaning more into her “prince” aesthetic, while Anthy has her hair down and no glasses, matching the end of the show. They’re also much more forward with each other, Anthy going so far as to jump in to help Utena during her first duel and kissing her while she’s “supposed” to be with Sainoji. Within the movie alone, this is very sudden and at odds with her Rose Bride role, but as a follow-up to the show, it makes sense as a result of their memories leaking through.

According to the mindscape theory, the other characters are all simulacrums, simplified recreations constructed from Utena and Anthy’s memories. (Nanami’s simplification is particularly blatant.) Characters being simplified fits the movie format, but also there are some oddities. One interesting distortion is Juri’s flirting with Miki: in the show, she never shows any interest in guys, but I like to think Utena doesn’t know enough about queer stuff to fully understand that and so she imagines Juri as bi. Juri is also the only duelist Utena never properly beat within the show, but Utena gets a rematch with her and finally scores a clean victory, which makes sense as something she might have wanted a chance to do. Miki, meanwhile, gets left out of the movie’s duels - out of the student council members, he’s the one Utena most sees as not fitting them.

The odd ones out of course are Akio, Touga, and in a different sense, Shiori. Akio has changed to match Utena and Anthy’s developed understanding of him: still trying to present a “cool” persona, but now clearly seen as a thin veneer over a pathetic creep who crumbles as soon as his attempts to control his sister fall through. Meanwhile, Utena also has to work through her feelings around her “prince”, and understanding that Akio does not live up to that ideal, she projects them elsewhere onto Touga, the other boy who approached her the night she hid in the coffin. Both Akio and Touga, for this reason, become specters hanging over Utena and Anthy, who they must leave in the past to proceed.

With Touga pulled out of his normal role, Nanami appears to get uprooted as well, leaving a vacant “mean girl” role that Shiori steps up to fill. Shiori also takes on Nanami’s attraction towards Touga, and the two show up as a couple. We see this in a scene where Shiori tells Touga about the prince she used to have, who drowned... except we learn later that that prince was Touga, and he’s already dead. Yet Shiori has no recollection of the drowned boy being Touga, he’s able to talk to her and paint her nails, and he talks on the phone with Akio who we also learn is already dead. What’s going on?

Utena turns out to be repressing memories of Touga’s death, and the only other one Touga is able to interact with seems to be Anthy, who has the excuse of being Anthy. But there’s no other sign of Shiori also participating in this kind of repression, or of a reason why she would feel the need to, and no other sign of Akio wandering the school as a ghost as Touga appears to. The only way I can think of to make sense of this is: Touga and Akio were both alive during this scene.

Touga and Akio’s deaths must have taken place chronologically before their phone conversation, but we’re in a weird mindscape created from perceptions. My conjecture is that because the events and memories in this false reality are artificial, Akio’s death (and by extension Touga’s) only became established as part of this reality around when the shadow girls played the tape of Akio drugging Anthy, rewriting the world and overwriting their previous scenes.

But the tape isn’t the cause of the revelation of who Akio really was, only the vehicle for it. The drug tape scene directly follows a pair of scenes with Utena and Anthy: the one where Utena accuses Anthy of sleeping with Touga (Akio) and the two end up dancing together, and the one where the two of them draw each other and Utena sees the stab wound Akio inflicted on Anthy. This suggests that what really happened is, Utena and Anthy growing closer together started to unlock their memories of the damage Akio did, which then rewrote the mindscape accordingly.

(The phone scene also takes place around the same time as the pool scene, where a row of students fades into thin air mid-stride - another reminder that reality may not have the tightest grip here.)

Eventually, Utena and Anthy have to confront and accept the “deaths” of Akio and Touga. This is when Utena finally remembers that there’s an “outside world” where they should go, and... transforms into a car. Which is, of course, very silly, especially when looking at the movie alone. But the show establishes Akio’s cars and mastery of roads as symbols and components of his power over the students and his sexual abuse of them. So it makes perfect sense that Utena finally getting free of Akio’s domain would involve her and Anthy taking to the road themselves in their own car, fleeing Akio’s fleet of cars.

During the car chase, Wakaba, Juri, Miki, and Saionji show up to help Utena and Anthy out of the tunnel. This is another thing that seems odd in the movie alone but makes much more sense if it follows the show. In the movie, Utena has only started getting to know Wakaba and clashed with Juri and Saionji, while I don’t think we ever see her or Anthy even talk to Miki. But in the show, they get a lot closer - not so much with Saionji, but he at least shows some capacity to do things that aren’t terrible. The council members talk about being inspired to find their own way to the outside world - which, if everyone here other than Utena and Anthy is a mindscape construct, isn’t actually possible, but it does fit their real selves back in the original Ohtori.

Eventually, Anthy encounters Akio and refuses his demands to stay bound to his world, she and Utena blast past him and Utena turns back to human. Utena and Anthy remember that they’re from the outside world and that they defeated Akio together - which again, makes no sense in the movie alone, but does make sense if it’s a sequel to the show and they’ve been trapped here after their clash with Akio. Meanwhile, the shadow girls get revealed to be straw constructs, which again suggests the movie’s Ohtori as fake.

In the end, Utena and Anthy drive off together, finally free from Akio. It’s exactly the victory that was missing from the show itself, completing it.

[booksaresacredspew]

Ok first, I need you to tell me more about yours, so I can inject it into my own veins. Second, wanna help me flesh mine out? i can't write it until I have the plot figured out, it's a thing my brain does. I have like two or three scenes or images pretty clear, the rest is fog.

Like, if the witch/fairy has a grudge against Bruno in particular, I can see him telling her that Mirabel is "only a child. Your quarrel is with me." and she basically purrs, "You're right. I was planning on cursing her to prick her finger and die when she turns 15, but it would be more satisfying to curse you instead. but why wait" and then she decides to curse him to basically a living death where his powers turn against him and constantly show him visions of potential dark futures. and also the present. and just before he's totally lost to her curse, she whispers to him "This won't save them, you know. I'm still going to destroy the rest of your family. But this way you won't be there to protect them, you'll only be able to watch." And then he collapses to the floor, his eyes glowing green even through his closed eyelids, and she disappears, leaving devastation and chaos behind her.

I have a vague idea that after Antonio gets his gift, he comes across either Bruno possessing a rat, or a rat who tells him about the benevolent spirit that sometimes walks among them, and he tells Mira about it, and they have a little three-way conference where Mirabel and Antonio find out that Bruno is still aware and he gets to communicate with them and maybe warn them about some of the things he's seen?

Mira might not remember that she is destined to save him. And the others wouldn't tell her, because she's supposed to figure it out by herself. But they don't talk about him because.... it's too painful? I guess?

Aside from the cursed visions, and the dreamwalking in the present, conscious control of his gift is blocked from him by the curse. When they join him in the dream, they go into his mindscape and help him break through the barriers, which are made of cool metaphors and symbols and such. Like, I'm picturing a wall with a gate, only the gate is a ladder you have to walk under, and you know Bruno is too superstitious and his OCD wouldn't let him ever walk under the ladder because that's bad luck. But maybe Mirabel can come up with another solution. Like climbing it, or something.

Since the origin of the gifts is different, and they know Bruno did what he did to protect Mirabel, they don't have the same pressures on them as in canon, at least as a whole family. They are still under a lot of pressure and need help, and working together, to solve it, but the stressors are different. Like instead of trying to earn their gifts, maybe... I dunno. Maybe they're fighting a war against the evil fairy? Or she incites a war against their neighbors? why did they originally start getting gifts in the first place? what did Pedro do? What is Alma's trauma and how does it manifest in this scenario?

And what do the other fairies think of all of this, since they're obv still giving gifts after it happens. Did they eject the evil fairy from their ranks? The big picture is a big blurry blob here.

Heyyy, wanna talk sleeping beauty AUs?

Aaaa I’m so sorry this took forever, I don’t look in my inbox often but YES ABSOLUTELY!!! :D

[blushing-titan]

Reasons why I believe the cabin vision was Mikasa’s dream - and not an AU

I briefly touched upon this topic in my previous Mikasa/Anti Eremika-themed interpretation, but in this post I’d like to elaborate further - why do I think that the vision from chapter 138 was Mikasa’s dream, and not an actual AU flashback? As in my previous post, a little warning first: there will be spoilers, as I’ll be using panels from the manga.

1. I want to go back...back to our home

Many fans interpreted this as Mikasa having a flashback to alternate reality, in which she and Eren share a cabin in the mountains - a reality in which they’re both living safely and peacefully. However, it’s important to remember that for Mikasa, the meaning of home is very symbolic - it’s been shown ever since the first chapters of the manga:

After losing her biological parents, she feels like she has nowhere to go - her home was just taken away from her. She’s cold and scared...but then, as dr Jeager invites her to live with his family, Eren wraps his scarf around her and says:

...to which she simply replies: ...okay. Let’s go home. She has just been saved, and despite all the horrible things that happened previously, she has a home again - a home symbolised by the good-hearted boy who wrapped his scarf around her when she was cold. In the following years, this fact becomes a source of her strength and will to fight...

...but, as the time goes by, the boy who saved her changes and seems to be drifting away from her. She feels like she’s losing him, so this time it’s her turn to ask:

My point is that ever since they met, Eren has always symbolised home for Mikasa. He has been her safety, anchor and source of strength - which is why it’s so hard for her to accept that, after all his wrongdoings, he may not be the same person that he was when he wrapped the scarf around her. I believe that’s what she meant by saying: I want to go back to our home - in fact, she even thinks about his old self right before the cabin sequence starts:

Now, onto the second argument...

2. Mikasa idealizes Eren in her mind.

I’ve seen opinions that Mikasa views Eren through rose-colored glasses - and it’s not entirely untrue. When he saved her, she created an idealized image of him in her mind - she perceives him as a good-hearted, caring person who would never willingly go against his friends or hurt any innocent people. No matter what he does, she still tries to see him through this filter. It’s the reason why she often misunderstands him.

(Notice how even Armin is concerned by Mikasa’s answer.)

In another example, Mikasa tries to justify Eren’s actions by saying that he had done it all out of care for his friends.

Knowing all that, it makes perfect sense that the Eren from her dream would be an idealized version, too. He openly acts affectionate with her and is devoid of any fiery or violent character traits of the original Eren. Instead of hurting (or saving) anyone, he runs away with Mikasa to spend his last years peacefully, just with her. 

Many fans caught up that this version of him is quite OOC, as it goes against everything that his character represented up to this point. He has always been a fighter, dedicated to his goal of achieving freedom. Therefore, the decision to run away from problems (...along with his general behaviour in the cabin vision) just seems off to many people...but what about Mikasa’s goals? Quite frankly, they perfectly align with what’s shown in the dream - she just wants to be with Eren and keep him safe from harm...

...and yet, with the way Eren is, it’s simply impossible for her in reality...

...so she creates this scenario in her mind, as a way to comfort herself. In fact, it may have been suggested that she’s been dreaming about living away from danger with Eren ever since her training days - she even proposes that they could go back to the settlement together. Ironically, Eren leaves as she’s speaking, without her even noticing - instead, he wants to get stronger to keep on fighting.

3. Author’s note

A while after ch.138 came out, the information about the particular author’s note appeared on the internet. It said (35) draw Mikasa’s ideal, which (to my understanding) suggested that the vision was based on Mikasa's ideal answer to the question asked by Eren a few chapters earlier.

As we know, her answer was family. Later on, she wonders if she could have changed anything by giving him a different reply. Therefore, I believe the cabin dream was based on what she really wanted to say back then, and how she wanted for the following events to unfold.

I’ve seen many fans theorize that the vision was a flashback of the AU in which she gave him a different answer. I’ve said that in my previous interpretation, but I’ll gladly say it once again - Mikasa’s reply shouldn’t have such a huge impact on the future of the entire world. She should never feel guilty about it, as, at the end of the day, Eren went on with the rumbling and it was his decision. I really dislike how much weight the AU theory puts on Mikasa and her answer, when in fact, if Eren really wanted to give up on his plan, he simply would have done it. He had a lot of occasions to stop, one of which being a collective plea from all of his friends - including Mikasa. 

In fact, if he really wanted to run away with her, he could propose this idea himself - however, the fact that it’s clearly stated that her “correct” answer was required for it to happen makes me strongly believe that the vision was indeed Mikasa’s dream, based on her ideal reply.

4. Plot mechanics

Due to the fact that Mikasa’s See you later, Eren appears in the first manga chapter, many people speculated that it must be because Eren somehow saw a glimpse of an actual AU, dismissing the possibility that he could have seen Mikasa’s mindscape. Personally, I’ve never understood this argument - mostly because we already have a few complicated (...and not fully explored) plot mechanics in SnK that could explain this phenomenon - one of them being paths/founder titan’s power.

Ackermans are supposed to be immune to the founder’s ability to alter memories, however Mikasa is still a subject of Ymir. Therefore, as shown in the manga, she can manifest in the paths, meaning that Eren is able to connect and talk with her telepathically. Thanks to that, I don’t think it’s impossible that he may have seen her dreams/memories through paths, even without altering them - and from there, transfer these memories to his child self. Even more - this could also have been done by the original founder - Ymir Fritz - who’s been observing the entire interaction. At this point, it’s implied that she doesn’t have to be ordered by anyone anymore, so it’s perfectly reasonable to think that she acts out of her own free will.

Taking this into consideration, what’s the point in introducing an entirely new and confusing plot device (ability to experience AUs) when the story is one chapter away from finish? In my opinion, there are enough matters that need proper closure and questions to be answered in these final 45 pages - adding a new plotline only complicates everything more, when it should be the time to close up all the already existing ones.

That’s all from me today! Hope I managed to get my points across - thank you very much for reading! ❤️ All the manga panels used above obviously don’t belong to me - all credits go to the author!

[theredandwhitequeen]

Roswell New Mexico thoughts episode 5 Max and tezca from last episode Talking You’re not only the only one who knows things …Serves a purpose Using powers on max, that are Max’s Show you who you were meant to become Burned Jones body Sounds Max and Liz, Jenna, Michael  Jenna has blue eyes now Hand print  Max not worried about Tezca Eduardo still missing  Mexico Kyle Valenti Floating pod Isobel arrived Surgery Dallas and Maria Using powers The necklace  Thinks memory of necklace and father on earth Revivalist church Michael and Max Talking about relationships with Liz and Alex Choking Tezca in Max’s dream in cam’s body Mindscape  I don’t think you are fine with who you are…. Squeezing his organs Michael …I’m capable of more… It’s all a bad idea, but it’s the idea we got. Michael going to find Eduardo and Max going back to Liz Jenna and Liz Max is only going to tell me when he’s ready…. I love Jenna Isobel and Kyle Two alien surgeries  Menudo Talking about Anatsa I needed to leave Roswell…. It’s a relief being around you… Found a book Eduardo gone Michael and Clyde Clyde looks grumpy Looking for you then I saw the rope. Bonnie been gone hours ago, angry, conflicted, she’s powerful Kyle and Isobel  Brought artifacts to casita  Alma was Hector’s wife Protecting the aliens Other alien Michael and Clyde Looking for Bonnie Worst alternative  The grass is greener on the other side Humans are obsessed with illusion of happiness…. Clyde didn’t have a home Oasis is not perfect, but it could be Max and Jenna DNA Alien freeing cocktail Calls him out Jenna wasn’t supposed to be on case I don’t want to burden Liz I need to be able to save her back  Don’t mess this up with Liz Dallas and Maria At a barn I think I’ve been here before Young Dallas and his dad Necklace is home With your gifts you can help it grow Tree that they planted is still here Maria and Dallas’s stories connected because picture of tree in Mimi’s wedding book Kyle and Isobel Kyle’s cousin Empty pod was kept Hasn’t talked to Eduardo awhile ago Allie Myers  Used powers Tezca stole artifact Michael looking for Bonnie and found her listening to music He’s really important to my boyfriend Didn’t hurt him Going to run. Wants Max Tell me where Eduardo is Cam and Liz Tells her to make Max talk Old Sutter’s farm max and Tezca Mindscape How do I have these powers? Why are you so interested in me? Capacity to create blue flame Teach me to control it…. Broke the link with Tezca Cage can’t hold me Cage fight with Tezca Ophicus has foreseen it  It’s a movement a path Liz and Cam Jenna’s eyes changed back I’ve been called intrepid  Liz  Max uses powers and hurt Liz Max trying to heal Liz Healed her Talking it out Share the blame for today Bonnie and Clyde and Michael First time is hard Michael gave the piece and seeing the stars Sees Oasis Isobel and Kyle Taking pictures Drinks Just openness….possibility… she wasn’t my person… To revalalations about love and aliens Dancing What’s opposite  Beautiful actually  Kissing Maria and Liz The first glass is a thank you, the rest is an apology  Told her she lost visions There’s nothing to fix…. You gave me an actual future…. It’s just a friend…. Hugging Oh dear Max and Jenna Talking about Liz I once really cared for you too…  Bonnie and Clyde Gave her a guitar Sweet Michael staring at sky Dallas Friendship  It’s not food it’s fuel Michael’s powers not working  Sick Aliens don’t get sick Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I love this episode and it’s so nuts

I miss Rosa and Alex

So is Rosa missing because Amber was filming the Predator movie?

Mad World, good choice for the end of the episode

I’m worried about my Michael

Isobel and Kyle kissing. He hasn’t broken up with his new friend yet. I forget her name

Also mentions of Allie again.

I don’t want Jenna to leave.

I’m so happy Dallas was there for Michael.

Are Arturo and Alex together?

[spectralscathath]

Like-Minded Souls, Indeed?

Because this was exactly what Mercury needed, the voice of someone his boss killed showing up in his head and telling him to save the world. No thank you. Not unless you paid him.

Meanwhile, on Ozpin's side of things, he would like to very much not be found out by Salem. That would be... unfortunate.

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1: In Which Neither Mercury Nor Ozpin Can Ever Catch A Break

Ozpin felt the tugs of Ozma's magic at the corners of his mind, the limbo of their incarnations finally broken as a like-minded soul was bonded with.

He awoke in the back of someone's mind, still bleary as though he was physically waking up from a deep sleep. The mindscape was quiet with a forced calm, tension like pulled strings threading through the soul of this new individual and ready to snap at the slightest touch.

He looked out a set of new eyes, to see if it was a good time to introduce himself, and felt ancient fear flood through him at the sight of Ozma's oldest and most terrible foe. Oh. Oh no. This was very bad. This was quite possibly the worst place he could incarnate.

Salem herself, smiling at the girl who had killed him under Beacon. To die in fire was not an experience the countless souls wanted to repeat, and Ozpin was unfortunate enough to join the ranks of the few predecessors who’d suffered such a painful death.

He chose to say nothing, instead observing the way silver strands of hair fell over the side of his vision, how the body ached with phantom pains that were not Ozpin's, and wisely retreated back into the mind.

Perhaps another time.

Perhaps when Mr Mercury Black was not currently surrounded by danger.

After all, they both had to make the best of things now. He could only hope that Mr Black would be the type who could be persuaded away from Salem.

If not, then this was going to be... difficult.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ozpin had been a father, so many lifetimes before. He had never been perfect, he had made countless mistakes across Ozma's many lifetimes, he accepted them all as his failures, so he could learn from them and do better in the next life.

He had given his second life in a futile attempt to save his daughters, and sometimes wondered if he regretted his choices. Should he have stayed? If he had stayed, would he still be alive? Would his children still be alive?

The look Marcus Black wore in so many of Mercury's memories reminded him too much of Salem to ever again regret his attempt to escape her clutches.

He had been waiting a long time, studying Mercury’s routine so he could find the safest time to breach the gap between them. He had to say, this was an opportunity like no other, to see what Salem’s plans were without detection, but with great reward came terrible risk. All it would take was one slip, and they’d both be dead. Or worse. And if he did nothing, then all the knowledge he could gain would be for naught.

So he waited until they were alone before he could chance speaking to him, until Mercury had retreated to his corners and locked the door, shoving a chair under the handle as was his custom. He was paranoid, which was a very fair response to the situation. The massive wardrobe must have taken some shoving to put it in the path of the window, but it certainly did prevent any unwelcome visitors who might see it as a means of entry.

The bed pushed into the corner was wise as well, to put his back to a wall,  although the fact that Mercury piled his pillows under the covers as a decoy and then slept under the bed itself might have been pushing it somewhat.

He waited until Mercury was sitting on the bed, looking over his weapons and performing any upkeep needed, the faint cyan glow from the vents in his prosthetics lining his silver fringe.

Mr Black, don’t be alarmed.

“What the FUCK?!” Mercury bolted upright, knife in hand as he looked around, head swinging to every potential place an intruder could be. “Who’s there?!”

Professor Ozpin. He had to think quickly. Don’t tell Salem or she will kill you. This is part of my curse as her opponent, I must incarnate into a new mind with every death, and I am now currently in yours.

“No the fuck you are not.” Mercury snarled. “Show yourself, come out and face me.”

I can’t, actually. He should try and enter Mercury’s dream. He personally had never done that, but Ozma had, so therefore he had as well… hadn’t he? It seemed the lines were blurring between himself and Ozma already. More than they had been when he was alive. He’d been one of the more compatible hosts, on account of not having anything that really needed Ozpin Headley more than it needed Ozma-in-Ozpin’s-head.

“Nope. Okay. I’ve gone mad. I’ve been up too long.”

That is true. Mercury had a terrible case of insomnia, it seemed. Though with the night terrors he had, it was understandable. He was about to have a whole lot more, once the merge hit the point where Ozpin was able to fade into the memory consciousness, just as Ozana had when she had joined the other incarnations in the depths of their shared subconscious.

He was hoping he could spare the young man the nightmares from hundreds of deaths. Ten thousand years was a long time to live and die and live again. Mr Black, I assure you, this is not an ideal situation for me either, but you must understand that you are not crazy and that I am now-

“Taking up residence in my head like a fucking pervert? What, running a school wasn’t enough for you to get your sick kicks?” Mercury snarled at him.

Okay, that was uncalled for. Mr Black, that is very untrue. This is just something that happens . After all, someone had to stop Salem.

“Fuckin- alright, fine, so I’ve gone mad. What else is new?” Mercury grumbled, sitting back down and angrily sharpening a knife.

You’re very sane, I assure you. Ozana had told him something similar, if a bit less polite.

“Right, I’m talking to a voice in my head while living in a castle owned by some sort of humanoid Grimm witch, that’s the definition of sanity.” Mercury snarked at him.

If you can believe Salem’s existence, then surely you can believe mine?

“I don’t believe anything you say. Can you go back to shutting up?” Mercury’s anger was a tangible force in their head, not like a wildfire, but more like a poison, something that slowly corroded whatever it touched. It was a very cold anger.

I’m afraid not. I must insist that you leave this place before Salem finds out of my presence, or she WILL kill you then and there. Or worse. There could be so much worse. Salem had been around far longer than he had, by sheer virtue of her immortality working differently. It had left her with a large pool of creative methodology for causing pain, many of which had been lost to time.

He didn’t want to undergo that as much as Mercury likely wouldn’t want to either, so that meant leaving was their best choice. He’d been listening in on a few of the meetings that Salem had hosted, finding out that Haven was the next target, and Vacuo after that. He’d also found that she hadn’t yet obtained the Crown of Choice, but that she did still have at least one operative in Vale looking. He wished them luck. He personally had decided to move the Beacon Vault and hide it a little better after he took over the school.

There was no way Salem’s people could find it. Not without his knowledge. Or Jinn’s knowledge.

He had to keep Jinn out of Salem’s reach. If summoned, she wouldn’t choose not to answer Salem’s question. She didn’t have that sense of morality. To the Relics, all that mattered was their task, and the rules that bound them to it.

So, Mercury, when do we leave?

“You’re stupid.” Mercury told him bluntly. “We’re on another continent with no way off that isn’t controlled by Salem. There is no leaving. At least not until she sends me out on a job. So here’s the deal, you shut the fuck up, and then maybe when I’m out of this creepy fucking castle, we can talk.” Ozpin could hear the lie in there. Mercury had zero intentions of ever talking to him again.

But it was a good idea, for safety’s sake. He would have to be a silent observer. After all, the walls could have ears.

Besides, once they were out on a job, so to speak, he could simply start talking again. After all, that was the letter of the potential agreement, if not Mercury’s intention.

Agreed. I will see you when we are in the clear.

“Piss off.” Mercury grumped at him, and just this once, Ozpin chose to comply. He could use the time to gather information, and silence was a small price to pay for that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mercury followed Emerald, Watts, and Cinder into the safehouse Lionheart had brought for them, feeling a strange sense of betrayal flood him that was definitely not his. He realised it was probably Ozpin, who had so far remained quiet during the flight out of Evernight, meeting up with Watts, and going over battleplans for confronting Raven Branwen.

He’d been tuned in just to see what his role was (he was Thug #2, the muscle who was meant to stand there and possibly kill someone if that kind of point had to be made), and was allowed to be basically invisible beyond that. He watched as Cinder went to cook herself dinner, and since she knew she controlled Emerald through food and shelter, probably Emerald as well. Mercury could cook for himself, if he had to, and Watts could starve for all they cared.

He wasn’t hungry anyway. Too busy trying to hold off on the wrenching nausea in his gut that was not his. “See ya, Em.” He shrugged at her, holding up his scroll. “I’m gonna play some Amid You. See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya, Merc.” She waved him off. She’d gotten a bit more tolerable since they got trapped together in the deathworld that was Salem’s castle. Not that they were friendly or anything. Just tolerable.

He made his way up the stairs and into one of the rooms, making sure it wasn’t the fanciest one because he’d let Cinder and Watts duke out ownership of that one. He locked the door, looking for something he could shove against it and picking the bedside table. It’d do.

He checked the window lock and pulled the curtains over, sitting on the bed as he played music on his scroll to mask the fact that he could be talking to himself, if only to tell Ozpin to shut the fuck up with the sadness.

“Alright asshole, what’s the problem.”

I can’t believe Leo would fall this far. Ozpin sounded fucking miserable. Sucks for him, he got betrayed. What happened to him? He was a hero for so long…

“People suck, get over it.” Seriously, if he’d been around since the asscrack of time, then he should know that.

Not always. Some people are good. It makes it hurt all the more when some of them turn out to… well. Stick a knife in your back . Ozpin sighed, impressive for a man who didn’t have a body or lungs. So. Now we can discuss you leaving this group and helping protect the Relic of Knowledge.

“Yeah, no, not happening. If there’s a mole on the inside of your old team, then me buggering off from Cinder is only gonna end up with us dead, which is that thing you didn’t want, right? After all, Leo runs Haven, and those kids Watts mentioned? First years and a drunken Huntsman. Haven’s dead meat.”

We have to try. Salem cannot be allowed to obtain any of the Relics.

“Nah. We have to survive. I’m not dying just because you wanna be a hero.” Mercury kicked his boots and greaves off, since he was out of Evernight, twirling his ankle a bit and listening to the metallic clicking the joint made.

Mr Black, I must insist. If the Vault in Haven is opened, it could go very badly. Besides, Qrow is my friend. I’d rather not risk him being hurt.

“Hey, the plan involves not going near Qrow. It’s a simple sneak in, sneak out, and the White Fang blow up the school a few days later. No one’s getting hurt, except for Lionheart. Clock’s ticking on his usefulness.” The plan was easy compared to Cinder’s weird domino pieces plan for taking down Beacon. He preferred the Haven plan that was clearly Salem and Watts’s idea. It was simple, no muss, no fuss. Easy pickings.

Gonna be great to see how Cinder’s rampaging ego ruined it, something easy like this clearly wouldn’t fuel her proud streak. She was just like Marcus. Always wanted a challenge. That was why he saved cutting off a target’s semblance for a finishing blow in his assassinations.

Haven Academy is important, Mercury, you can’t just let it be blown up! I won’t stand by while Salem steals the Relic and destroys another Academy! I can’t!

“All the Huntsman in Mistral are either dead or useless, gramps.” Mercury rolled his eyes. “Academy’s already useless. You should focus on the relic.” Maybe if he came up with another plan it’d get Ozpin off his back.

I don’t play to win at all costs, Mr Black. I try to protect as many pieces on the board as I can.

“That’s why you’re losing,” Mercury collapsed back on the bed, hooking his hands behind his head as he got comfortable. “How about another deal? We wait for Cinder to get the Relic. Watts has to go back to Evernight after dealing with Branwen, so the trip back will be me, her, and Emerald. Cinder won’t be expecting an attack, so how about we kill her, steal the ship, and then you can take the Relic wherever you want?”

And Emerald? Ozpin queried. Would you be killing her in this sneak attack as well?

That made him pause for a moment. Would he kill Emerald? Probably not, he didn’t need to. Cinder was absolutely a threat who had to be taken out as quickly as possible, but Emerald? Nah. “She’d probably get all butthurt that Cinder’s dead or whatever, but I don’t see why she should die as well. Worse comes to worst we’ll knock her out. We’d be doing her a favour, honestly. You’ve seen how Cinder treats her.” The fact that Ozpin was constantly watching everything was real fucking unnerving and something he tried to not think about at all times.

Hmmmm… Ozpin deliberated for ages, which made Mercury think he was probably scheming away. Whatever. Mercury wasn’t going to fall for any of it. What could a voice in his head do? Get sad at him? You think you can kill Cinder?

“I think that I’ve been watching how she fights for nearly two years now and that she’s got a massive blind spot on her left side.” It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be manageable. Amber got taken out too, after all. “You got anything that would help? Cinder said you put up a fight in that basement where she killed you.” He hoped that was uncomfortable to talk about. If he had to be disquieted by sharing headspace with a weirdo, so should Ozpin.

Yes. I have some magical ability left that can, at the very least, level the playing field a little bit. It’s not as strong as the Maiden’s magic, but if applied correctly, it could work.

Sounded like Ol’ Oz was coming around to ‘fuck everyone else, I got what I want in the end’. Selfish thinking won again. Why waste energy on stopping the destruction of a school when Cinder could be allowed to think she won and Mercury could then use that pride against her to escape this whole messed-up situation.

After all, Salem might be remaking the world and had offered to make him one of the top dogs, but in the pecking order, he was still near the bottom of the ladder. Besides, he did have her worst enemy in his head.

Escape was definitely the best option. “And hey, if she’s planning on attacking Vacuo after, think your buddy in Atlas would let us bunker down there?” If they did it right, then no one would know what happened. Cinder would be too dead to talk, Emerald would be a flight risk but he could probably talk her into not going back to work for Salem, and he sure wouldn’t tell anyone.

Yes. James can be trusted.

Just like Lionheart could, Mercury thought, but this one he kept to himself. “So. Deal?”

I don’t like this. It’s cruel and callous.

“I’m Mercury Black, have we met?” Why would he want to be anything else? The world was cruel. The only way to win was to take what you had and fight for what you wanted. No rules. No lines. Those made people weak.

… Very well. I’ll agree, for now.

“Then we’re done for tonight.”

I suppose we are. Thank you for hearing me out.

Mercury blinked perturbedly. Did he just get thanked? Weird. “Uh- sure. Whatever.”

Ozpin sounded way too amused as he chuckled, Mercury’s hackles rising only slightly. Good night, Mr Black.

Mercury snorted and didn’t bother replying, reaching for his scroll as he switched his music off and went into the games folder. Yeah it was gonna be a good night. He was gonna play video games til his eyes fell out and not sleep.

He supposed this situation with Ozpin could have been worse. At least the guy kept to himself and didn’t make a nuisance. If Mercury had to have a creepy man in his head talking to him, it could have been a lot worse. Could have had a Tyrian in there. Or a Watts.

Or his dad.

Mercury’s nose scrunched. Wouldn’t that be awful. Least Ozpin knew which of them was in control.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was chaos in Haven Academy’s foyer. Mercury dodged a wild swing from Yang, flipping back in a handspring as he errantly observed the room. Ozpin had not been happy about the ‘kill everyone’ plan but whatever, they were here now. Ozpin had been a lot louder since then and was still there, still currently losing his mind in the back of Mercury’s head. Mercury tried to tune most of it out. Wasn’t easy.

Mercury, please! This can’t be what you want! Ozpin begged as Mercury watched that kid in the green get thrown through a wall by Hazel. Ozpin always went real quiet around him. He wondered why. They’re just children!

He didn’t answer back, because fuck it, what did he know? Being a kid didn’t mean shit. Where was ‘just children’ when Marcus beat him up daily? Nowhere, that’s where.

You have to stop this! You’ll never be able to get the Relic now, the plan won’t work! This is our only chance!

He dodged another gunshot from Yang, which was criminally easy, she definitely had not gotten faster since their last fight, and checked in on the only threat. Qrow was- oh fuck he had stopped fighting Raven, disengaging from that little sibling duel to charge Hazel, landing a blow to the guy’s back with enough force that Hazel’s knee hit the ground. Mercury swore it dented from the weight behind that blow.

No no no no no no-

He whistled as he caught Yang’s kick in one of his own, forcing her leg down and scoring a punch directly to the floating ribs. Her eyes went red for a moment as she swung a hook at him, one that he dodged again, knocking her around with a few more kicks to the head. Had she gotten sloppier? He would be ashamed to fight this badly.

Mercury. Please. Don’t make me do this.

He glanced over at where Qrow was nimbly dodging Hazel’s blows before a cheap shot from Lionheart hit him in the shoulder, knocking his footwork off-balance long enough that Hazel got his hands on Qrow.

Mercury I’m so sorry-

“What-” Mercury asked before his vision flashed gold, and he was shunted into the back of his own head. Suddenly he was the voice, and Ozpin was in control- he had no control over his own body, no way to stop as Ozpin took a running leap, leaving a confused Yang behind, and landed a kick into the side of Hazel’s head, the shotgun blasting right in his ear.

Ozpin had took over. Ozpin… could take over. And he’d never mentioned it. He’d never-

Qrow looked at them, utterly dumbfounded. The entire room had gone dead quiet as Ozpin-in-Mercury’s-body artfully landed between Qrow and Hazel, not taking his eyes off the latter. Then he spoke with Mercury’s voice but it wasn’t Mercury’s words and it wasn’t right-

“I’d like my cane back, if you wouldn’t mind, Qrow.”

Cinder was staring. Emerald was staring. Everyone was staring as Mercury was turned into a fucking puppet, all his control stolen away. He hadn’t even known Ozpin could- He’d thought-

His view of their- their, not his- vision tunnelled, greying out at the edges. Haven wasn’t there anymore. It was just that house. His room. The smell of whiskey and blood and cigarette burns-

And Mercury clocked out, brain going black with panic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He felt hands on his shoulders even though there were no hands on his shoulders, pulling him out of the darkness and shoving him back in the driver’s seat. He blinked, collapsed against a wall with a cane handle in his hand and Qrow leaning over him, the smell of alcohol on the other man’s breath hitting some button in his head too close too close-

“Get AWAY from me!” He shrieked, kicking him full in the chest and loosing a shotgun blast to make sure the point got across, the Relic clattering on the ground as Qrow lost his grip on it. His hand clenched on the cane handle so hard it was shaking, and he threw that away as hard as he could.

Mercury, I am so sorry, I swear, I didn’t want to ever have to do that to you, but you left me no choice-

“ Shut up!” He snapped, voice ragged and a little too raw as he pulled his knees defensively to his chest and dug his fists into silver hair, tugging until the burn on his scalp felt like he was pulling Ozpin’s voice out of his head.

He heard footsteps come closer and looked up from his defensive curl, a knife appearing in his hand as he met Lil Red’s silver eyes, wide with concern and simmering with underlying resentment. “Professor Ozpin?”

Mercury, you have to understand, we can’t let Salem get the Relic-

He remembered a similar look on her face when she saw him walking again in the maintenance hall of Amity Colosseum. He snarled back this time, instead of a cocky smirk. “No. Come near me and I’ll rip your fucking face off.”

“Don’t talk to my sister like that!” Yang snapped, her eyes bright red as she glared at him, the Schnee keeping a hand on her shoulder to keep her in line. Fucking try it, Blondie, he’d take her other arm off, they could match.

Ruby wisely took a step back, still easily too close for him to handle. “Mercury?” her hand twitched towards the gun on her back

Mercury? Will you let me explain?

“All of you shut up.” He glared at the Relic, kicking it away as he jumped to his feet. He couldn’t handle this. It was too much, too much control lost- and Emerald wasn’t there, FUCK. So much for doing her a favour. He looked at everyone, feeling cornered, skin alive with fire ants that weren’t really there and legs burning with phantom aches, and did the only thing he could do when fighting wasn’t the option.

He bolted, clearing the stairs behind him and disappearing into Haven Academy, picking a random room that wasn’t Lionhearts (he was not going NEAR a fucking Seer, no thank you) and locking the door.

Mercury, I truly am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Ozpin told him gently, and the worst thing was that he sounded like he meant it.

“Don’t ever talk to me again.” Mercury snarled, and started breaking everything in the room that he could get his hands on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Man, Ozpin's sections got deeper then I expected but then again the guy has identity issues for sure. Where does Ozma end and Ozpin begin? Things we will literally never know!