#like she’s real quick to blame the trauma from the experiments on why she can’t remember her brother’s face

[frozenartscapes]

(I’m way late to this party) but this thread reminds me of a post I made a while ago theorizing that Edelgard’s negative side effects would manifest differently from Lysithea’s. Lysithea is physically weaker. She gets short of breath easily, can’t lift anything heavy, and would be overall a non-threat if she didn’t have some of the scariest magical abilities in the game. She attributes these shortfalls to her two Crests, describing them as signs of the toll both Crests are taking on her.

Edelgard, meanwhile, can one-shot dudes like, three times her size. She’s the second strongest person in the game, falling just shy of Dimitri “Routinely Snaps Spears Like Pencils” Alexandre Blaiddyd. She routinely brushes off hits from arrows, spears, and axes as the minor inconveniences that they are. And one of her signature moves on the battlefield requires her to launch a large kite shield so high into the air she has time to do a flip and bring her axe down on her unfortunate opponent’s head, only to then catch the shield as it comes back down. Needless to say, she’s doing fine physically.

(And this could actually be the Crest of Flames’ influence. Since it’s not only the Goddess’s Crest, but also a restorative one, it can be argued that it’s offsetting any negative harms to her body its presence would otherwise cause.)

HOWEVER: Crests aren’t just a physical power source - they’re connected to the soul, too. So what if Edelgard’s side effects aren’t physical, but mental?

We already know she has trouble remembering things. Granted, a lot of that can be attributed to the trauma sustained from the torture and imprisonment. But what if her memory loss was due to her dual Crests causing stress on her mind? It’s implied in Azure Gleam that pushing her body and power to the extreme when Thales forced the Hegemon transformation messed something up in her head. Following that fight, we see it’s possible to survive turning back into a human from the Hegemon but…not without consequence. The lights were on but no one was home. The more strain that gets put on her dual Crests, the more they would eat away at her mind. We see glimpses of that in Azure Moon, too, as her Hegemon form in that one took on more extreme, monstrous behaviour (and she only semi-snapped out of it when confronted by Byleth, someone she shares a connection with regardless of route because of their shared Crest).

This may also be why she takes to sketching people she cares about as a hobby (jury’s out on if the drawings are any good, but I like to think they are). She may be looking for methods to make sure she has a way to remember those individuals should anything happen to them. Continued sketching could also be a good way to school her mind into not forgetting details. I personally headcanon that she struggles to remember her siblings in life - at best, she can remember what their corpses looked like. On days when the survivor guilt and ongoing trauma rear their ugly heads, it’s possible she even forgets names.

This kind of thing would be very easy to write off as side effects from her trauma, at first. It’s normal for those who experience something deeply scarring to forget things leading up to it, and during. It’s the brain’s way of trying to heal and protect itself. But what if, as time goes on, she starts to forget a little more each day.

Which…frankly, would be her biggest fear. One of her listed dislikes is “losing control”, so the idea that she’s doomed to slowly lose herself to this thing that was grafted onto her body and soul without her consent must be utterly terrifying to deal with. That may be another reason for why she wants to push her changes through as fast as possible: she may have a relatively normal lifespan, but there will be no guarantee she’ll have her faculties for that long. It’s entirely possible that the longer she lives, the faster she’ll start to lose herself. So she needs to get Fódlan sorted out now, before things take a turn.

And maybe when it does happen she’ll just gently slip away into blissful oblivion and spend the rest of her time alive in relative carefree peace. Or maybe she’ll cling to her consciousness until the bitter end, fully aware that something is deeply wrong but there’s nothing she or anyone else can do and all these people who say they’re her family watch on like they’re witnessing the death of a loved one but that can’t be it because she’s here, she’s alive, she’s… What was her name again?

(Think Alzheimer’s, but caused by magic no human was ever meant to bear being forced into your body when you were barely a preteen.)

I can understand how "Edelgard probably isn't dying like Lysithea is" became a commonish take since the game doesn't really dwell on it, but if you look at the actual ways the game talks about having two crests I think it's pretty clear that Edelgard probably is dying.

The argument usually goes along the lines that since they were able to experiment on the Ordelia's first, that Edelgard probably received a relatively safer version of the experiments. Leaving aside the fact that those same experiments killed or otherwise incapacitated all of Edelgard's siblings so it can't have been that safe, I think focusing on the experiments themselves is missing the point a bit.

While the experiments were brutal and certainly traumatic, it's not the methods of the experimentation but the results of the experiment that are killing Lysithea. She is specifically dying because she has two crests and the human body isn't meant to hold two crests.

Which is also why anytime a character like Hanneman or Linhardt talks about saving her life, their solution is specifically about removing one of her two crests.

So with that in mind, it doesn't really matter if Edelgard got a "safer" version of the experiments (and again, this allegedly safer experiment still killed 10 of the 11 people it was performed on), because the end result of the experiments is responsible for the shortened lifespan.

And like, even aside from that you do have the Edelgard/Lysithea paired ending which specifically talks about reclaiming the years that were stolen from them, so, y'know that seems pretty clear at least.

Again, can't blame anyone for having this take because the game doesn't really talk about Edelgard's mortality. It's one of the rare cases where the game actually trusts the player to put two and two together, but I think in this instance it would probably have been smarter to explicitly address it.

[ayamturd]

trapped│bench trio hc

warnings: mentions of imprisonment, exhaustion, ranboo lore, angst

prompt: (requested) “can i request a platonic!bench trio x teen!reader (individually) where they find out you got trapped in the prison with dream?”

pairings: in-game platonic! tubbo, tommyinnit, ranboo

a/n: i tried to experiment with writing more dialogue for this hc, pls feel free to always give feedback!

wc: (1.6k) - m.list

tubbo - 

“No.”

“Tubbo, I’m so sorry but i-”

“You’re wrong,” Tubbo cuts Sam off, shaking his head widely in refusal to the news. He slowly backs away as Sam tries to approach him. “They’re not- no. They can’t be, Sam, there must be some mistake.”

Sam is at a loss, his concern for the boy present, and attempts to raise his hands cautiously out with soft eyes; Tubbo is in panic, and he needs him to calm down.

“Tubbo…”

“I just saw them yesterday, surely-”

“Tubbo, please.”

Tubbo would refuse to accept that fact for what it was

can’t stand to look at the prison, the sight of it haunting him

will ignore the topic altogether and try to change the conversation if someone mentioned you

if they were persistent and didn’t pick up on the fact that he didn’t want to think about it, he’d snap

people always assume that Tubbo is a happy, emotionally driven person; while they’re not completely wrong, he’s extremely closed off to his trauma and knows how to put up a convincing front

that being said, the idea of you trapped with someone who is at the core of his past pain is unsettling to him

he’s trying but failing to pretend like everything’s okay, because everything’s not okay and he feels helpless to the idea that he might be at fault for it all again

make no mistake, he does care for you, but the fact that he cares so much makes it where he doesn’t want to believe something so awful can be true

Ranboo will quickly pick up on what he’s trying to do, and will go along with it for his sake; everyone deals with their trauma and hard news differently, Tubbo especially

Tommy, however, is too upset to notice and reacts impulsively to Tubbo’s reaction

they both clash: Tubbo refusing to address what happen, and Tommy emotionally sensitive when believing Tubbo doesn’t care

his anxieties would build up until one day he just falls apart

“Tubbo?”

They had been walking and collecting more material for their most recent build when Tubbo stopped, Ranboo pausing once realizing he had fallen behind. 

“Tubbo, what’s wrong?” Following his line of sight, Ranboo sighed once seeing your house; despite looking untouched in the time you’ve been gone, something just felt off when knowing you weren’t there. Ranboo patted his shoulder gently before tugging him away.

“Let’s go, man. They’re probably out right now.” There was a beat of silence, and Tubbo eventually responded in a weak voice. 

“No.” Ranboo picked up on the hostility in his tone and spoke with caution to his obvious upset.

“...Tubbo?”

“They’re gone,” Tubbo croaked, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes as he bit his lip roughly. Ranboo tried to console him, but it didn’t help stop the pain. “They’re trapped and I- I just can’t…”

Ranboo was at a loss for words, for Tubbo couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

he misses you, and doesn’t want to accept that there’s a reason he should miss you

tommy - 

“You’re lying.” Ranboo glanced down, his fingers fidgeting together harshly as he struggled to come to terms with the news himself.

“I’m not,” he mumbled, his voice weak in comparison to Tommy’s usual blunt tone. “I’m sorry but it’s the truth.”

Tommy’s breathing hitched from Ranboo’s words, the truth quite evident in his wavering tone and the fact that this was no joking manner. 

Eyes wide, Tommy was frozen to the truth and fear that slowly washed over him, life practically spitting in his face for how cruel the world could truly be to those young on the smp. 

“I know this is really hard to process but we have to be hopeful that everything will turn out okay-” With a shove to Ranboo’s outreached hand, Tommy turned and bolted away, his emotions running high and the situation too painful to admit. There was no ‘okay’ in this reality, you were stuck with Dream and they couldn’t do anything about it. 

Tommy was angry to say the least

he channeled his fear into his drive, but knowing you were trapped with the manic that broke him down and manipulated him for weeks on end completely offset his focus

he didn’t want sympathy, he wanted to get you out of the damn prison

while he’s usually caring to how others may feel and adjust his attitude to them, he couldn’t care much besides the amount of anger he manifested

he’d snap at anyone that tried to console him, yell at others that seemed like they showed no real concern over your absence, and most of all, he’d blame those that tried to downplay the situation

Sam was the center of his rage; Tommy couldn’t stand the thought that Sam sat there and possibly did nothing to prevent your current state

Tommy would close himself off and push everyone away; it felt wrong to act like nothing was wrong when you weren’t there

he can’t stand the idea that everyone’s okay when you’re not, and it follows him to the point where he wishes he was in your place instead 

“Tommy.” Puffy’s stern voice startled him, and he flinched with tired eyes from his spot above on the small hill. 

“You shouldn’t torture yourself like this.” 

Tommy clenched his jaw from her words, her concern valid but useless to his main reason standing watch over the prison. With a shake to his head, he tried to wave her off. 

“I’m not,” he mumbled, “I need to be here.” With a sigh, Puffy crouched down next to him and moved his chin towards her, eyebrows furrowed as she took in his tired eyes and the bags that hung beneath them. He was pushing himself too much. 

“But you don’t, Tommy. You shouldn’t be the one to burden yourself like this.” Trembling lips and narrowed eyes, Tommy broke down. Puffy was quick to grab hold of him, trying to steady his distraught state when he lost his footing. 

“Why couldn’t it have been me?” he cried, his eyes squeezed shut as he dug his head deeper into Puffy’s arms. “Why isn’t it me?”

Puffy couldn’t do anything but squeeze the boy tighter. 

Tommy was a force to be reckoned with when things involve his friends, and the fact that he couldn’t help you essentially tore him to bits

ranboo - 

“Are you alright, Ranboo?” 

Ranboo looks ahead, but avoids Sam’s wavering eyes as indelicately as he can. He doesn’t want to show his real emotions to the news; he doesn’t want Sam to feel worse for the situation as is. 

“Y-yeah, yeah, I’ll be alright. Mhm.” Nodding stiffly, Ranboo’s voice pitches higher than what it usually is, but he pretends it doesn’t faze him while rubbing his hands anxiously together. 

His head snaps up when Sam speaks, his ears twitching once recognizing the painful guilt in the creeper hybrid’s voice. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry I let this happen.”

“It’s okay, Sam. I don’t blame you.”

While Ranboo chose not to look directly at Sam, he emphasized his point a final time, his thoughts lost in thought of the real guilty party.

“I don’t blame you at all.”

oh Ranboo

he would be concerned for other’s reactions to the news, first and foremost

he’s the type of person to put people above his own needs, he puts other’s take on the news before his own

will comfort Tubbo to the best of his abilities by distracting him

though Tommy tries to push everyone away, Ranboo will find ways to help, whether that be letting him yell his heart out when he’s upset or putting a blanket over him when he passes out after watching the prison overnight

you were one of the few people that understood his main values and always treated him well; he’s close to you, and would have probably told you about Dream’s internal torment over him

because of this, knowing that you were trapped with Dream made him feel like he had some involvement with it, that he’s at fault somehow

he puts others before him because he feels guilty, like he needs to redeem others for something he possibly did

no one knows of your status, of how you’re doing in there alone with Dream, but he fears the worst and rattles himself down to the bone

when he’s with Tubbo, he’s able to play along and put up a front too: pretend nothing is wrong and not be faulted for it

but when he’s alone, he’s spiraling and has no one there to wake him up

“I let this happen.” Ranboo was pacing, his voice echoing in the dimly light room while his thoughts rang loudly in his head. He could stand still, for he was too anxious and unnerved by the recent events.

“I’m the reason, I’m the reason they’re trapped. I did this.” 

Lifting his hands to his head, Ranboo began to pull at his hair, pushing pressure to the stress he had created upon himself. Before he could demean himself further, however, another voice spoke up. One familiar and one thought gone.

“You’re right Ranboo.”

Pausing, Ranboo froze in horror to Dream’s taunting statement. He pushed his hands against his ears, desperate for the voice to go away.

“No…”

“You did this to them, and they’re stuck with me now.”

“N⍜”

“Can you hear their screams?”

“⌇⏁⍜⌿ ⟟⏁.”

“They’re mine to play with. Because of you.”

“⏚⟒☊⏃⎍⌇⟒ ⍜⎎ ⋔⟒. ⟟⏁'⌇ ⋔⊬ ⎎⏃⎍⌰⏁, ⟟⏁'⌇ ⋔⊬ ⎎⏃⎍⌰⏁, ⟟⏁'⌇ ⋔⊬ ⎎⏃⎍⌰⏁ ⟟⏁'⌇ ⋔⊬ ⎎⏃⎍⌰⏁-”

people are more important than any goal or belief, and Ranboo stands by this when he vows to end Dream himself

[bigskydreaming]

AU where the DickKory wedding doesn’t happen as planned like in the comics, but here its because their friends, instead of just gossipping to each other about ‘what Dick did’ and how this is a mistake because he’s just trying to prove something and Kory’s just going along with it because she was shaken up by what happened too and kinda feels a need to feel/see it proven by him....

And instead, the other Titans (specifically looking at Wally, Roy, Garth and Donna, seeing as how those were the four who had plenty to say to EACH OTHER about their concerns but without any - except for Donna to Kory, and I maintain it wasn’t exactly the RIGHT thing to say - actually saying it TO them)....

No, instead here, they sit Dick and Kory down and ask why they’re really doing this and what's it all actually for, and when it comes out that Dick literally proposed in the heat of an argument about trying to convince Kory he never would have slept with Mirage if he’d known she wasn’t Kory, that she’s the only one he wants to be with and he was just desperate for her to believe it....well FINALLY this clusterfuck of chuckleheads pulls their heads out of their collective keister and starts looking at how FUCKED UP Dick is over all of this, and thinks back to the many, MANY times and ways he’s clearly displayed feelings of being deeply violated by what happened and how he was tricked, manipulated, didn’t want any of this, etc, etc. 

And because they’re actually superheroes who are familiar with victims of all kinds and not dumbasses who are so quick to blame the lifelong friend noted specifically by everyone who meets him for his enduring LOYALTY at all times, in all cases - in fact, how often do these very same people give Dick shit about being TOO loyal to people even when they don’t deserve it, like when has an ability to commit EVER been this man’s problem, like who are you even talking to here - and like.....they finally get their heads on straight and go hang on, let’s take a beat. I feel like we maybe rushed to judgment and didn’t totally think through what happened here and now we’re thinking it sounds a lot more like rape which means Dick did nothing wrong and has nothing to prove and Kory can reaffirm what she’s always believed and only had shaken for a time, that Dick’s love for her is real and honest.

And they can then without any hurt feelings or implications as to the longterm viability of their relationship, call the wedding off as they recognize the proposal for what it actually WAS, aka part of Dick’s literal ongoing trauma response as he tried to reconcile his deep-down knowledge that he was a victim here, he’d been victimized, violated and betrayed by someone he had trusted to be a teammate, not unlike other times he’s been betrayed by people like Terra or had to feel the visceral feelings of betrayal even when it wasn’t their fault, like more recently when it was a possessed Joey who was mocking Dick while holding him captive and then y’know, getting murdered right in front of him, and Dick is very much not OKAY because of all of this. 

Because its all hitting him in places where he is PARTICULARLY vulnerable because of parallel experiences he can’t help but associate with betrayal and manipulation and the subsequent experiences/feelings of being turned on and blamed by his friends for what he feels then is his responsibility to take sole accountability for, so all of this is very familiar, hits right to the bone of a lot of Dick’s core issues, and this time it just happens to all be compounded by the betrayal/victimization being deeply personal in a way none of the prior situations were, as well as being compounded by how nobody else seemed to even recognize he’d BEEN a victim.

And then by focusing on THAT instead of just gossipping about the SYMPTOM of his not being okay that was his shotgun proposal - which they all literally agreed only happened because Dick wasn’t okay - Dick and Kory can just mutually agree that they aren’t actually ready to get married, something both of them actually were very aware of and just trying to pretend otherwise, but they can further agree that its not a BAD thing they’re not ready to get married, it doesn’t mean they’ll NEVER be in the right place to get married, that this just isn’t it. Them not being actually ready to get married here and now, that has nothing to do with their RELATIONSHIP and everything in the world to do just with the specific reasons the proposal even happened, and their feelings and what they hoped to prove/be convinced of because of all that.

Meaning they then take a step back, Dick can get the help he needs with the support of Kory and his friends, and at some future point in his recovery, he and Kory can shift their focus back onto their relationship, mutually, leading to them eventually reaching the stage where they ARE ready to get married and one of them proposes to the other for the actual right reasons (which are really just, hey I love you and I want to marry you, its exactly that deep) and then they do get married and eventually start a family and things are still dramatic and chaotic and superhero-y but DUH, that’s because they’re SUPERHEROES, but they can still have a happy, healthy family life, the Kents do it all the damn time, and so can they....in this case they literally just needed a little help from their friends, so AU where that’s what they give them for their wedding gift. A ‘hey, call off your damn wedding,’ share circle.

Bonus points of course are that if the wedding never happens, DarkSide!Raven is left waiting in the wings and never gets her dramatic entrance moment to be like “Why yes, I object!” and so she misses her window and Kory and Dick are from that point on so surrounded by friends she never gets a good opening to possess Kory with the demon seed, so Kory never has to deal with ANY of that nonsense, because the LAST thing either Kory, Dick or their relationship needs to deal with, is MORE possession/brainwashing/mind control bullshit. Like enough already. They more than filled their quota. Let another happy couple dabble in the Being Possessed or Mind Controlled field for a change. Dick and Kory are MORE than happy to share. They aren’t going for a monopoly here.

[jackoshadows]

Unpopular opinion, but I disagree with the notion that Jon should be accepting of his bastardy and not rule if given the chance. Even  “I don’t want it ” show!Jon ended up as KITN when some Northerners randomly made him one despite Ned Stark’s trueborn daughter sitting beside him, so why wouldn’t the book version - who does want it - not accept an offer to be King? 

Why shouldn’t Jon Snow rule the North and Winterfell? Of the remaining Starks, he’s the oldest, most experienced and qualified. He is Ned Stark’s son. Winterfell is as much as his home as it is to the rest of the Starks. He learned from the same people Robb did. Removing any gender and class bias, Jon’s still the best person belonging to house Stark to rule the North. Robb Stark certainly thought so.

Jon has never let being a bastard define what he is capable of. He has always looked beyond class lines and valued people for what they are capable of rather than the limited and narrow views that society has. Why wouldn’t Jon want to rule the North?

I feel that reasons like ‘Jon is a bastard, he should remain a bastard, Jon being king would undermine his story, perfect King Jon would be boring etc.’ are just excuses for wanting Jon out of rulership. One may as well say that they want *insert favorite character* to be king/Queen rather than Jon.

Rather, I think this line of thinking should be applied to someone like Young Griff - and this is precisely the story that GRRM is trying to tell with the character. It would, for example, be boring for secret, trueborn, Targaryen prince Aegon to go on to be the perfect king that Varys expects him to be.

Young Griff is the perfect king on paper –  groomed to know the common man’s struggle, he’s smart, well liked etc. But for us readers, him becoming king would feel unearned. Young Griff is actually a critique of unearned rulership.  We see from his cyvasse game with Tyrion, that he is arrogant and spoiled. He feels entitled to Dany’s dragons – the dragons that Dany has hatched and nurtured and bonded with. He thinks that Dany will immediately throw her full support behind him.

Compare Young Griff to Jon, Dany and Arya. Jon is defending the realm without any expectation of reward, planning Stannis’ campaign to win the North, preparing the wall for an attack from an existential threat. Dany halts her Westerosi campaign and is ruling Meereen for the people, dealing with insurgency, famine and sickness, having to make the hard decisions that come at great personal cost. Arya actually lived among small folk in war torn Westeros. She has no Jon Connington or mercenaries protecting her as she fake lives among the small folk – her experiences are real. The pain and trauma she experiences – that she sees the small folk go through – that’s real. It was about survival for her, instead of Young Griff learning how to fish and wash clothes.

Young Griff is supposed to feel unearned. He is a stand in for Jon, Dany and Arya – the secret prince, the Targaryen come to take the Iron Throne and the Stark princess who has actually lived among the small folk and befriended them. Young Griff is Jon, Dany and Arya without their actual experiences.  Not to mention that in GRRM’s world, there are no perfect kings or queens. His rulers are flawed leaders who make mistakes because ruling is hard.

That has been GRRM’s position  - rulership has to be earned. And I think right now 17 year old Jon and 16 year old Dany have earned their leadership positions by actually doing and learning. If Jon Snow becomes KITN, he would have earned that position.

I also disagree with the notion that Jon should not be trueborn because that would ruin his character and make his story pointless.

This is Jon Snow we are talking about here. The Jon Snow who loved wild child Arya for her bird’s nest hair and her scabby knees and gave Lady Arya Stark a sword because she wanted to learn how to use it like her brothers. The Jon Snow who thought that it was okay if Randyll Tarly’s eldest son did not want to fight and asked Maester Aemon to take Sam on because he’s intelligent and liked to read. The Jon Snow who made Satin his steward because he was quick and clever and fearless in a fight. The Jon Snow who held out his hand and called Tyrion Lannister friend.

The Jon Snow who said this:

The collar is supposed to remind a maester of the realm he serves, isn’t that so? Lords are gold and knights steel, but two links can’t make a chain. You also need silver and iron and lead, tin and copper and bronze and all the rest, and those are farmers and smiths and merchants and the like. A chain needs all sorts of metals, and a land needs all sorts of people. The Night’s Watch needs all sorts too. Why else have rangers and stewards and builders? Lord Randyll couldn’t make Sam a warrior, and Ser Alliser won’t either. You can’t hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn’t mean tin is useless. Why shouldn’t Sam be a steward?”

If this Jon Snow turns out to be trueborn, does he suddenly regress into a person who buys into Westeros’ patriarchal and primitive notions of blood and birth defining who a person should be? Is he suddenly going to expect Arya to behave like a southron lady? Fire Satin from his job?

Is Jon going to believe that being trueborn is superior and that is why he became Lord Commander? Are we as readers going to think that Jon only got to where he is because he is trueborn? All the decisions he made  – all that is retroactively ruined because he’s trueborn?

I doubt Jon is trueborn in any case - Rhaegar was married to Elia and they had children.  Rather, I think GRRM will use Jon’s parentage to explore one of the themes that he really loves – the human heart in conflict with itself. It would add an extra layer of angst, self-doubt, and struggle to Jon’s already existing personal issues.  A father he loved and blamed for his bastardy, send him to the wall - to a life of hardship and celibacy - without telling him the truth. Everything he knew about himself is a lie.

With GRRM’s writing, he could delve into Jon’s inner psyche as he is hit with these truths. A possible heir to the Iron Throne ends up a low born bastard at the wall – how does one deal with all this? How does one react? Then there are his relationships with the only other Targaryen and his now cousin Arya. And that’s what would make any such reveal exciting and add complexity to character and character arcs.  And I think that would be damn interesting to read.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 18

Dabi x Reader, Bakugo x Reader

Words : 4276

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

**********************************************************************

It’d been a little over a week since Shoto promised to go to the doctor with you and you were getting a little nervous. At first you were just waiting for the doctors to get settled in, but then Shoto was busy helping get things up and running and evacuating people to the bunker. Now you’ve just been chickening out.

Your period was a few days late, which wouldn’t be concerning if it weren’t for your current circumstance.

You woke up this morning and made a cup of coffee before taking Bravo out for a stroll around the bunker. He loved being able to run around and meet new people. He was a hit with the kids. They loved playing with him almost as much as he loved playing with them. The only downside was, there was only two places in the entire massive bunker that he could go to the bathroom. The farm and a small animal relief area near where the trash is dumped.

Needless to say, neither smelled great, but the farm was considerably better. So here you were, sitting on a small platform that oversees the crops with a cup of coffee and a book. Bravo sitting next to you keeping watch.

It was always a little chilly down here, which you honestly preferred. It just meant you could wear lots of hoodies. The more you could hide your body the better. Ever since leaving Dabi’s house you felt like you were always being watched. You felt so exposed and you just wanted to blend into the background.

Today you wore a new hoodie that Izuku had gotten you. It was probably one of the softest things you owned, and it was the prettiest shade of blue. The blue reminded you of a certain someone’s eyes… of the beautiful blue flames they were capable of creating… but then you’d shake the thought from your head and pull it closer around you.

You were enjoying your new freedom. Not that Dabi’s house had been a prison… but you hadn’t realized how much you missed doing things on your own. You had thought being alone would be hard, but you were thriving. It was never being alone that bothered you before, it had been his absence.

Against Katsuki’s wishes… Shoto had shown you the photos of what was left of Dabi’s car. And he hadn’t been exaggerating. You had almost passed out looking at how much blood soaked the driver seat and even the road around it.

You had been so lost lately. You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel. Your heart ached. You thought you had finally found your home. You had finally started to feel your pieces come back together. Now you felt like that would never happen. He took the last few pieces of your heart with him and you felt like you would never be whole again.

Dabi had been your comfort, your safety, your home. Now you were lost.

You hated that you felt this way. You should hate him. You should curse his fucking name. You shouldn’t be crying yourself to sleep over his death.

His death…

Was he dead? You weren’t convinced. It was too convenient, and there wasn’t a body. You wanted proof. Until then you’d go on believing he was still out there.

You closed the book you were reading. You had been on the same page for the past 10 minutes.

There was no way he wrecked his car like that. You had been in the car with him twice. Yes, he drove a little fast… but he wasn’t reckless. Either it was an elaborate cover up, or someone was after him. Or maybe… someone had been after you and he had gotten stuck in the middle as collateral damage.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

Shoto came and took a seat next to you. “I’d ask what’s on your mind, but I’m pretty sure I already know.”

“Am I that obvious?” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He leaned his head on top of yours. “It’s normal. I’d actually be surprised if you weren’t torn up over it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I can’t stop worrying about him. I keep wondering where he is. If he’s okay. If there’s some grand explanation for his shitty behavior.” You shrugged. “I’m just finding it hard to grasp that the same man who held me during my panic attacks was also secretly planning to breed me… It just doesn’t add up.”

“Guilt does weird things to people.” Shoto’s hand found yours and gave it a squeeze. “I know he’s my brother, but I have no doubts about who knew him best. I only know a version of him. I only knew what he wanted me to.” He sighed, “It was obvious you meant a lot to him, and I could see him becoming more… I don’t know… human? For the first time in years he was showing emotions that weren’t rage. It would make sense if you were starting to make him question what side he was on.”

Your eyes narrowed, “So what? You think he did some shitty stuff and decided to help me… because he felt guilty about it? That doesn’t make any sense.” You pushed away from him to look him in the eyes. “Dabi only does what Dabi wants to do. That has been clear to me since day one. So what the fuck did he want out of this? None of it makes sense. Was I just a possession to him? Was I a bargaining chip? Was I just some broken pet that he got validation from nursing back to health? What?!”

You could feel your hysteria building and Bravo put his head in your lap in an attempt to calm you down. You took a few deep breaths. “He better fucking be alive… so I can kick his ass myself.”

Shoto chuckled, “Touya doesn’t stand a chance.”

His eyes looked distant and sad. You nudged his shoulder with your own, “Hey can I ask you something?”

He blinked away whatever far away memory he was thinking about, “I don’t see why not.”

“What was he like? Touya I mean… Before he became Dabi.”

Shoto’s lip turned up just slightly, “He was the best big brother I could have ever had. He was always there to help me when our dad was too rough with me. My dad tried to keep us separated… didn’t want me mingling with what he considered to be his biggest failure.” You flinched at the casual way he talked about the abuse they endured. “But Touya would sneak into my room at night. He taught me how to handle my burns and would bring me cold soba on bad days.” His eyes glassed over, “I was devasted when he died. Well… when I thought he died.”

“I blamed my dad, we all did. So, when he came out of hiding, it was like this enormous weight had lifted off of my shoulders. I hadn’t even realized I was carrying it around, but I had never truly gotten over his death.” He chuckled, “So I went looking for him. I didn’t care if he was Touya or Dabi, I just wanted him in my life again. I’d take what I could get. So, I settled for our don’t ask don’t tell relationship.”

You felt a tear that wasn’t yours hit your lap. Of course this would be hard on Shoto, he’s potentially lost his brother for the second time. “If it makes you feel any better… He admitted to me that he loved you.” You smirked, “Well actually he told me he used to hate you which contradicts your story quite a bit. But he said he always wondered if things would have been better for you if he stuck around.”

Shoto laughed, “Sounds like him. Trying to act like the tough guy who didn’t give a shit… Just like how he was with you. I can’t tell you how many times he called me when he was gone checking on you. Texting me every single time your vitals spiked. He would check the cameras and send me voice memos about how he was going to beat my ass if I didn’t keep my hands where he could see them while we were sparing. But then he would deny it when I asked what going on between the two of you.”

“Hey, come on, I have an idea.” You stood and walked over to the corner of the field behind a small tool shed. You picked up a massive rock and moved it so it was hidden from view. “Can you burn his name into it?”

Shoto eyes darkened, “You want to have a funeral? We don’t even know if he’s dead…”

You nodded, “You’re right we don’t… but I think it’ll make it easier. We can have a place to morn him in private. Weather we mourn his death… or the death of who he could have been.”

Shoto’s shoulder slumped and eventually he nodded. His hand heated up and with his finger he wrote on the rock, “R.I.P. TOUYA”

You both sat there for a while just staring at the rock. You felt too cold standing here in the shade of the tool shed. You gripped your hoodie closer to you and held back the tears that you desperately wanted to shed. You knew you shouldn’t, but you let yourself think of Touya. You thought about what he would have been like if he had gone to UA. If he had become a hero. If you had met him under better circumstances. Would the two of you still have ended up together? Without your mountains of combined trauma would you even be the same people?

“You ready? We should head out soon or we’ll be late for your appointment.”

You rubbed your eyes and sniffled, “Yeah… let’s get this over with.”

Bravo wasn’t allowed in the medical side of the bunker, so you made a quick detour to your room to drop him off. Shoto quietly following behind you. “So how are things with you and Bakugo?”

You groaned and rubbed your temples.

Shoto chuckled, “That good huh?”

“He’s been hovering over me like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces at the slightest inconvenience. I appreciate what he’s trying to do… but it’s just too much. I told him I needed space… and we had a fight. He hasn’t spoken to me in two days.”

Shoto whistled, “I never thought I’d see the day that the two of you had a real fight. Sure, you always bickered like an old married couple growing up. But on anything serious he always caved to your every wish.” He paused at your door, “Wait. So, are you the reason he’s been extra grumpy lately?”

You blushed, “I don’t know… Maybe?”

You gave Bravo an extra scratch behind his ear before closing the door. At that same moment you heard the door next door click shut. Your eyes snapped up to meet Katsuki’s. “Oh hey… I didn’t know you were back from the surface yet.”

“Got back early this morning… I was actually on my way to see you. You have a time to get an early lunch? I want to talk to you about something.”

You played with the ends of your hair, which was an immediate give away that you were nervous. “I actually have some plans with Shoto. But I’m free after that. Shouldn’t take too long though.”

His eyes narrowed at your nervous posture and you cursed how well he knew you. “Oh yeah? What are you guys up to? Maybe I’ll tag along.”

You began to stutter but thankfully Shoto interrupted, “Clingy isn’t a good look for you Bakugo. Like she said… it’s not going to take long. Just wait here and she’ll be back soon.”

You saw Katsuki bristle and decided to step in before he picked a fight with Shoto. You stepped over to him and put your hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I just dropped Bravo off. He’s had some pretty bad separation anxiety lately so why don’t you go to my apartment and hang out with him while I’m gone. Make some coffee, pick out a movie or something. I’ll be back soon, and we can talk then.”

His posture softened as he looked you up and down. It was obvious to him that you were nervous. But he was trying his hardest to give you the space you wanted. He pulled you to him as he sighed, trapping you in his arms. “Okay fine. I’ll babysit the mutt. Can you do me a favor and bring back some migraine medication from the medical ward. My heads killing me.”

You nodded stiffly, hoping it was just a coincidence he needed something from the medical ward. “Not a problem. I have the weighted blanket you gave me on the couch if you want to take a nap while I’m gone. You look like you could use one.”

He squeezed you tighter to him. “I’ll be fine.” He leaned his head on top of yours. “I’ll be better once we stop fighting about stupid shit though.” He pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head, “I’ll see you when you get back.” He released you and looked to Shoto, “Try to behave. The two of you hanging out makes me nervous.”

Shoto chuckled, “Good. You should be nervous. If you don’t figure your shit out soon, I’ll be taking your best friend spot… Kacchan.”

You snorted as you pulled Shoto away. “Are you trying to get your ass kicked? You know only Izuku gets away with calling him that! Well… and me when he’s in a good mood. But even that’s pushing it.”

“Oh, he’ll get over it. He needs a reality check. He thinks the world revolves around him.” He led you down the hall. “He can be such a pain sometimes. But I will admit he’s so much easier to be around now than when we were in high school.” He bumped your shoulder, “In a way it’s thanks to you. As sad as it is, when you went missing, he matured. It was like out of nowhere he realized there were more important things in the world then him and his hero status.”

Something about talking about Katsuki’s emotional vulnerability while walking to the clinic to check if you were pregnant with Dabi’s child made you feel slimy. “Can we talk about something else. Literally anything else. How are you and Izuku doing?”

“Good… we settled into our room. It’s a nice enough room… but it’s right next to my dad’s room. Apparently he’s thought all this time that we were just roommates.” He threw his hands up and scoffed, “Honestly! Did he think we were both professional heroes, making tons of money, but couldn’t afford to live on our own?”

You giggled, “That sounds awkward. These walls aren’t exactly thick.”

“Oh believe me I know. And I don’t care. Poor Izuku though can’t even look my dad in the eye now without blushing.”

You laughed so hard you had to wipe away a tear. “Aw poor Izuku… He’s too innocent for this world.”

Shoto scoffed, “Innocent my ass. That man is a freak in—”

You held up a hand. “Stop, stop, stop! I don’t want to know. He is a pure innocent little muffin who used to braid my hair before workouts.”

“I thought Bakugo was the one who braided your hair? I can’t imagine him being okay with Izuku being that close to you.”

You laughed. “Oh he wasn’t at first. But mostly because Izuku was better than him at something. Kats liked to braid my hair in private while we watched TV.” You shook your head at the memory, “He actually got to be really good at it eventually.”

Shoto had succeeded in distracting you long enough to make the trip to the medical ward, but now that you were here the anxiety was creeping back in.

You paused before crossing the threshold. You knew it was important to find out once and for all if you were pregnant. But you were also enjoying living in ignorance. The fact that you didn’t know meant that you could live your life as normal. If you were pregnant… it would flip your entire world upside down. You would have a life you would be responsible for, a little human that would constantly remind you of the love that almost broke you.

If you weren’t pregnant then… you didn’t know how you would feel. Would you be relieved? Would you mourn?

Your hand found your flat stomach and clenched your shirt. You took a few steps further into the ward and was hit an overwhelming sterile smell. Your breathing hitched and your knees shook. It was too clean. It was too white. It reminded you too much of the lab.

Shoto’s hand took yours and gave it a soft tug. “Hey. It’s fine. You don’t have to do all of this. I can go in and request a pregnancy test and we can go back and do this in your room. Would that make you feel better?”

You shook your head, “Katsuki’s there…”

Shoto’s shoulders sagged, “At this point I think he’d be more upset at you hiding this from him. I’m not telling you how to live your life. I think you’ve earned the right to do whatever the fuck you want. But if it were me… I’d want as big of a support system as I could get…”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought about it. Did you want Katsuki to know? How would he react? What if you were pregnant? Would he be disgusted with you? Would he want to help? Your head was spiraling down a rabbit hole of what it and it was starting to make you dizzy.

“Hey, breathe! Just take a deep breath. Let’s get you out of here before you have a panic attack. Wait outside for me. I’ll get everything we need.

You pushed the wave of anxious nausea down and gave a shaky nod. “Okay… But remember to get some migraine medication for Ka—”

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Go sit down outside and try and focus on your breathing I’ll be right back.”

You made your way outside and immediately sat down and leaned your forehead on your knees. You needed to get these invasive thoughts under control. You thought about what Dabi used to do. He would sit with you and try and distract you by talking about random shit. You knew he’d be pissed if he knew his younger brother left you all alone during one of your episodes. The thought of him yelling at Shoto was almost enough to make you chuckle.

You took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds and started listing animals that start with the letter A. When you couldn’t think of any more you breathed out. Then you repeated the process with the letter B, then C. You had made it F when Shoto made his way back to you.

“Okay, so they gave me some weird looks. Which makes sense considering I am a gay man asking for pregnancy tests. But they didn’t ask too many questions. I have two tests, a bottle of water, some Tylenol, and a phone number for a doctor… you know, for if it’s positive.”

You took his outstretched hand and stood up. “Okay… let’s get this over with.”

Every step towards your room felt heavier than the last. You just wanted to curl up under your blanket and pretend none of this was happening.

You hesitated at your door for a few moments before remembering you were a tough bitch and barreled through it full of false confidence.

You expected to see Katsuki lounging on the couch watching something on the tiny TV. Instead you found him passed out with Bravo curled up next to him. The sight of it calmed your nerves.

“Hey Shoto, can you get some coffee going? I’m going to wake him up.” You tiptoed over to him and sat on the edge of the couch. “Hey…” You shook his shoulder. “Kats? Wake up. I need to tell you something…”

Katsuki grumbled and his arm snaked around you, pulling you down to his level. “Shhh, m’head hurts.”

You giggled “Hey stop I’m being serious… I need you to get up.”

One of his eyes cracked open. “What’s up you sound like you’ve been crying.”

You sighed, “I haven’t been crying, but I am… stressed…” He sat up and moved so you were sitting facing each other. He nodded urging you to go on. “So… The reason Dabi uh… locked me in his office was so he could go to the store to uh… buy a…. pregnancy test.”

Your eyes stared at your hands and you heard him suck in a breath. “Are you? …Pregnant I mean.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know… we got some tests from the medical ward today and I’m about to take them. I’m just… a little scared.”

A medicine bottle whistled through the air and smacked Katsuki in the face. “We got you your medicine too. You’re welcome.” Shoto was smirking over by the coffee maker.

Katsuki groaned as he stood up. “One of these days I’m gonna kick the shit out of you, IcyHot Bastard.”

He stretched and held a hand out to you. “Alright, come on. Let’s go piss on a stick.”

You felt a weight starting to lift from your shoulders. “Wait. So you’re not mad?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “Why would I be mad? I knew what the two of you were doing. It’s not like you cheated on me. As much as I wish we were, we aren’t together.” His thumb came up to brush a tear away that you didn’t even know had fallen. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily Y/N. You being pregnant wouldn’t change how I feel about you. I would even be willing to tell people it’s mine if it makes it easier for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

It was quite for a few moments, while you absorbed and processed this new development. He was surprisingly calm about all of this, and it was making it easier for you as well.

“God you’re whipped.” Shoto handed the pregnancy test to you but was smart enough to remain behind you so Katsuki couldn’t hit him.

You left the boys to bicker as you entered your tiny bathroom alone. You peed on both of the sticks and set a timer on Katsuki’s phone. The next three minutes were the longest three minutes of your life.

You paced as you tried to think of anything else. But your thoughts kept going back to that night when Dabi held you in his recliner after fucking you. He had asked about you having a baby. He had sounded so hopeful. His eyes so bright at the idea of you having a kid with him. Part of you couldn’t believe that was an act. He had seemed so sincere. You thought about how he would react if he knew you were taking a test right now.

The timer went off.

Shit.

Was your whole life about to change?

With shaky hands you picked up the first test. You held your breath as you looked to the second one to confirm it.

You opened the door with tears in your eyes.

“So, what’s it say? Am I going to be an uncle?”

You let out an audible sob. “I don’t know why I’m so upset right now.” You showed them the tests. “They’re both negative.”

Katsuki wrapped you in a hug and ran his fingers up and down your back. “It’s okay to be sad. Shoto made some coffee, I don’t have plans today. We can hang out here until you feel better.”

You cried into Katsuki’s chest as you watched some cheesy movie. He didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t even know what to say if he thought it would help.

You were grieving a child you never had, and a love that was nothing but lies. You needed to let it out. You needed to grieve so you could move on. And this is how you do that.

By the time the credits rolled your eyes were dry and you nose stuffy. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something earlier…?”

Katsuki stiffened, “Yeah, but I think it can wait. You’ve already had a rough day.”

You shook your head, “No… I want to know. I’m just going to worry about it until you tell me. I’d rather you just rip the Band-Aid off.”

He nodded, “We got word that Dabi may have been seen by your old place. We aren’t sure it was him though. Toga had been previously spotted as well, so it’s more likely that it was her. But either way, it looks like the LOV is sniffing around.”

“W—What makes you think it was Toga?”

He cleared his throat, “We have an informant working in the LOV and he told us the last thing he heard about Dabi was that Shigaraki had sent a team to collect him… but when they came back they were bloody and he wasn’t with them.”

You sighed, “Of course he wasn’t.”

*************

*The Laws* 1. No fucking shrugging 2. No drugs 3. No saying sorry for something that isn’t your fault 4.We work on communication every day 5. Wake up whenever the hell you want 6. No locked doors 7. We eat three full meals a day 8. No means no, no negotiations 9. We work on exercise every day 10. Ice cream must be kept in stock at all times 11. Accept help when it is offered 12. No lying 13. I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.

************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99 @squichymochi @sarahschance @babayaga67@starenemy

[overwatch-does-stuff]

A Summary On Chronal Disassociation and Gravitic Fluxes

Password Accepted

WINSTON’S NOTES- DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE WINSTON!

Athena suggested that I try to write out my line of thinking in simpler language, as to get the basics down before I get into the “nitty-gritty” of the matter. It reminded me of something that Dr. Winston said to one of his co-workers back on Horizon, something along the lines of “if you can’t explain it to a five year-old, you don’t understand what you’re talking about”. Wise advice indeed! While I don’t have any five year-olds around, and anyone I would show this to certainly wouldn’t be five, haha, I figured it was worth a shot just to get my ideas straight.

So, where to start?

Let’s start with Lena. It’s always good to start with what one knows rather than what one doesn’t. Anyway.

Lena has acute chronal disassociation. Chronal disassociation is a condition where the particles that make up the body spontaneously detach themselves from their current time and place and reappear in a different time and place. To the extent of Lena and I’s observations, this does not include inter-dimensional or alter-dimensional travel. Even if there were such things as alternate timelines, her disassociation through space and time would not create them due to the transient nature of her travel, but that’s getting beside the point.

My chronal accelerator design (it’s not really an accelerator, per say, more of a harness, but the name seemed to stick) keeps Lena in this current timeline by. . . hmm, keeping it simple simple. . .  kind of in a way that a quantum computer works. (No, that’s not simple! Think, think. . .) Quantum computers work by having infinite states of existence, which the computer infrastructure is able to control what state is active at which time. The chronal accelerator uses very much the same principle- it essentially ��tells” Lena’s particles where to exist and in what state.

Now, that status is programmable, allowing Lena to alter her state at will (within certain safety parameters, of course!). With the aid of the accelerator, she can manipulate when her particles exist (such as restoring herself to a younger and undamaged time) and where her particles exist (such as moving herself on the X and Y axes, although it must be someplace she could reasonably get to using her own two feet. She cannot fly, for example.)

Now. . . here’s where things get. . . interesting. Lena, I hope you’re not reading this without me.

Chronal Disassociation is transferable. Not contagious! Lena is not dangerous to herself or anyone around her, even without the accelerator! But it is transferable. She does have the ability, with familiarity and practice, to disassociate other particles and reassemble them in another location. This idea is obvious to anyone who thinks to ask the question of why her clothing and weapons travel with her whenever she blinks or recalls. In the early days, in fact, we ran several experiments with the accelerator to make sure that she wouldn’t teleport the oxygen molecules out of her lungs, since the air she breathed wasn’t the same air that was involved with the Slipstream incident. I was genuinely concerned that she might suffocate should she ever try to blink!

I digress. The fact of the matter is, Lena can control the timeline of particles around her. Not just her own bodily particles, but the particles around her. While she herself is hesitant to acknowledge it, her condition isn’t just a condition- it’s a power.

Which leads me to the next, far less pleasant topic, and the real reason why I’m typing all this out.

Dr. Siebren de Kuiper underwent an unknown procedure of events and has now arrived under my study with the power to control gravity. To make matters worse, in between that unknown event and now, Talon got to him first and already constructed a kind of “harness” for him. A “harness” that’s highly invasive and shoddily built compared to my inventions (and that’s saying something, my chronal accelerator notwithstanding!) I’ve been working night and day not only to understand the basics of how his power works, but also how that harness is supposed to function in relation to that.

What I’ve got so far is pretty crude. I think Dr. de Kuiper has some kind of control over quantum gravitons, aka the particles that transmit the force we all know as gravity. The more gravitons he creates or gathers on an object, the more gravity exerted. Similarly, he has the ability to destroy or scatter Earth’s normal gravitons, which reduces the amount of gravity exerted on an object. On the large scale, it functions almost as a kind of basic telekinesis from a superhero movie.

If that theory is correct, de Kuiper must have an astounding amount of control. We’re talking septillions, octillions, maybe even nonillions or decillions (stupid huge numbers, forgot to keep it simple) of individual graviton particles that he’s manipulating here. The crude “harness” that Talon strapped into him (I mean literally INTO him, into his brain) must help him with that in some regard. Whether the technology controls the particles for him or if it simply helps him “feel” or “visualize” them better, I have no idea.

According to de Kuiper himself, aboard the ISS, he experienced what he called a “singularity”. Now, his language was very. . . flowery and unscientific, but given the subject matter he’s trying to describe I don’t blame him. Most disturbingly, however, it matches Lena’s description of the Slipstream incident almost perfectly. Lena (the much more reliable narrator of the two,) described the sensation as being “everywhere at once, “not knowing which way was up or down”, and “feeling incredibly old yet only lasting a few seconds”.

Lena doesn’t talk about the Slipstream accident. I highly, highly doubt she said anything about it to de Kuiper before he recounted his story for me. While his testimony is dubious, the events he described were too close to hers for me to dismiss them as coincidental storytelling.

As a result of this seemingly identical incident, he now has control over his own particles and the particles around him.

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though! Lena’s powers and de Kuiper’s powers are two fundamentally different things. De Kuiper exhibits no control over any other subatomic particle, only the gravitons, which is an important distinction. Lena’s power is indiscriminate- the reason she can’t “fly” like he can is that she takes the gravitons in her body with her when she teleports and can’t separate them out. She certainly doesn’t have individual molecular control, whereas de Kuiper might, but only for gravitons as I mentioned. And then there’s his “melody”, which he claims is related to the fluctuations of his power, but that’s likely just to be how his psyche deals with the associated trauma. I mean, Lena isn’t crazy enough to report hearing music.

But. . . it is important to remember that time and gravity are related quantities. I haven’t been able to tell de Kuiper’s physical age in the very same way that it’s impossible to tell Lena’s based on DNA testing. It’s common knowledge that the greater the gravitational field, the slower time passes within that field. I suspect that de Kuiper is physically younger than the amount of time that has passed since his supposed death.

Does this mean that de Kuiper could have control over time? Does this mean that Lena could be unwittingly manipulating gravity? I have my doubts. There’s a lot of caveats with this “theory” that are only visible when talking about the more complex science. 

Regardless, I’ve cautioned Lena over and over again not to let de Kuiper use his powers on her, just in case. Even if their powers aren’t connected, I don’t want to discover any sort of strange reaction that could cause Lena to disassociate for good. I just hope she listens. 

Alright. Let’s get back to work now on the real science of it. I’m not sure how useful this exercise really was, but I suppose I can use it as a quick reference or something.

User Logged Off

[fernsplaysthings]

Here’s about 2.7k words about Birds.

There’ll be more. Eventually.

Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider.

“He must know we could just kill him? I’ve killed Gods. He’s just an overstuffed Ether pinata.”

Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider.

Roost’s shell shivers like the wings of an agitated insect and he turns his single eye towards his Guardian, squinting across at them in judgement. The ornament, a tiny replica of a Vex Harpy, does make the whole spectacle a little sillier than he wants but the impact, he hopes, will be the same. Nestled in the seat of their jumpship Kestral swings their vision away from their descent into the tattered islands of the Reef to take in the scolding Ghost.

“I’m not going to kill him,” they almost whine defensively, “He just needs to know I could if I wanted to. Especially if he tries anything shitty with you. ”

The impression of a sigh sounds from the little light, “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Kes. I know we’ve seen a lot of loss and pain. Sundance, Sagira, Glint. I know some ghosts - the other kind - are showing their faces and it’s...it’s hard for you to put your feelings together. But…” Roost presses into the crook of Kestral’s neck with some force, finding rest in the collar of fur that covers their shoulders, “...You’ll always have me. We’ll have each other.”

Silence. The Ghost’s eye swivels upwards towards his Guardian’s face after waiting a moment to see if the prolonged quiet pulled a reply from them. Their face was blank and stoney and it took a moment for them to realise they were being watched intently.

Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider. Be nice to Spider.

“Stop trying to make me cry while I’m concentrating, you fuck.”

---

“Alright Kestral. The line’s secure. It’s just you, me and Roost.”

The Young Wolf sighs heavily, “Glint is it really a good idea for me to keep coming back here?”

They’d been jumping back and forth to the Shore for a short while now, meeting up with Crow for a run down on the Wrathborn situation and where they were in the general scheme of things. It’d be fine. Once the Celebrant was dead they could part ways and the Young Wolf could go back to their normal day to day activities. And their own normal thoughts. Because holy shit debating the morality of what they were doing and juggling the complex feeling of seeing the former Prince of the Reef’s face regularly, with the fact that the New Light had nothing to do with…

...that. 

It was stressful. And not ‘God slaying’ stressful. Not even embracing the Darkness stressful. Wading into the depths and heights of the fabled Deep Stone Crypt, although unique in it’s inflicted trauma - poor Artemis - hadn’t put them in the same situation. Killing came with it’s own special kind of low. Grieving was a totally different monster.

“I understand why you’re worried but he remembers nothing. Plus, he looks up to you,” the little Light sounds concerned, his synthesised voice with a pleading edge. He obviously and proudly loved his Guardian, “You’re the first kind face he’s seen and I - we would appreciate it. A lot, Kestral.”

Another heavier sigh and the Hunter kneaded at their temples, bracing themselves to see that face again. Reliving the moment - moments? - over again in their mind. Cayde’s final rattling words. Uldren’s futile attempts to reason his way out from the sights of Petra’s gun. The new confounding idea that they now felt something aside from pity for the man that had been laid out on the floor unready to die.

“We’ll be in the lair in a few minutes. Let Spider know we’re on our way.”

“Will do, Guardian. We’re looking forward to seeing you!”

---

Coming face to face with the man that inhabited the body of Uldren Sov was a little less jarring these days and, although still entirely uncomfortable and a little like walking on eggshells at all times, they did kind of look forward to the quick wit - without the underlying loathing he’d always had before - and how damn earnest he was. A real Guardian, determined with all his heart to help people around him.

It was endearing. Unfortunately.

Mostly because it reminded them a little of their early Guardian days. Way back when things were somehow both simpler and more difficult. When they’d known that they wanted to help wherever they saw pain and danger but unsure of who they were and what cause they were fighting for aside from the driving urge to protect...

Even when they’d end up carrying the resulting hurt with them when they left.

Long before the ‘Young Wolf’ was an icon amongst Guardians, Kestral had been sweet and earnest themself. Driven but alone. Aside from Roost, of course. And despite the fact that the face and voice of their newest member of the flock had haunted their nightmares for months they still didn’t want ‘Guardian-hood’ to break him down too. For him to succumb to the slow process of losing himself to the need to help, whatever the cost.

Shared burdens and all that.

Plus Kestral liked to think that they had a good bit of experience under their belt to pass on to him so perhaps he’d find himself happily surrounded in the Guardian ‘culture’ one day soon.

“With Savek defeated and a good number of Wrathborn taken care of I think our next target is somewhere near the mines to the north.”

Crow stands over his cluttered desk, a map somewhat resembling the Tangled Shore spread beneath his hands and marked with crosses in seemingly random locations. One of them they recognised, Sjursrest, where the Wrathborn Eliksni Savek had been called. She hadn’t been the worst enemy to fight and Spider had left them alone for a while afterwards. Apparently he was mildly generous after they’d achieved a small goal.

Naturally the generosity only lasted until another of his shipments suddenly vanished and then it was straight back to work for his poor underling.

“You think the smaller Wrathborn might lead us straight to them again?”

He turns his attention to the Hunter at his side, a head shorter than himself - if you didn’t include the nest of hair in their high ponytail - and catches their gaze. They really wanted to hate that glowing yellow stare but...it was softer than Uldren’s had ever been when looking at them. Held less contempt for what they were.

It didn’t feel like he was sizing them up for a coffin.

Realising he’d been looking a little too long, perhaps uncomfortable with the Hunter’s unnervingly steady returned look, Crow cleared his throat, “If you try the lure at the Cryptolith again we can see where it leads.”

“Sounds good to me,” they reply, stepping back from the map and holding out a palm for Roost to transmat into, “I’ll keep in touch. Unless you’ll be joining me this time?”

The slightly clunky sound of Glint’s shell as he twisted in alarm snapped Kestral away from Roost and they arched an eyebrow.

“Crow, I know you want to help but you have to stay out of sight.”

His shoulders visibly slouch and Kestral hated how defeated he looked when, knowing the ache of feeling useless, they understood how much he wanted to be out there. It made sense to keep him secreted away though, just in case a single Guardian out on the Shore recognised his face and matched him to his former life. Just in case they felt the need to let him know that they knew what he’d done. If Kestral hadn’t been sure that Uldren deserved death even at the end of their hunt, this man, completely unconnected in everything but appearance, definitely didn’t deserve the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of other Lightbearers like them.

Why did Glint have to mention them being the first friendly Guardian he’d seen?

Crow straightened up, his momentary lapse in drive apparently a small hiccough and shot a grin over to his Ghost, “I see, you want to keep me all to yourself. I can’t blame you.”

With that Kestral decided they’d seen enough wholesome Light interactions for the day and threw up a lax salute before turning on their heel and heading for the exit.

“Glint has our feed, if you find anything new let us know.”

---

The following week happened to be the beginning of the Tower’s Dawning celebration. Having taken down yet another of the big Wrathborn, a heavy shank that decided to be the biggest pain in their ass, Kestral assumed that Spider could give the newest addition to his collection a small break to enjoy a mini version of the festivities. Since Glint had explained that their last Dawning had been ‘difficult’ - Kestrel preferred the term ‘emotionally scarring’ - they’d taken it upon themself, with a little prodding from Roost, to see to it that Crow at least received some traditional cookies from at least one Guardian.

Sadly, letting the rest of the fireteam know that the body of Uldren Sov walked again and that of all people Kestral, bringer of his demise, was taking him cookies…

Yeah they didn’t have time to unpack that.

So one tin of cookies (varied flavours), a string of tiny lights shaped like engrams, two servings of powdered hot chocolate (marshmallows stored separately) and a small gift wrapped delicately in a bow made their way aboard the jumpship storage before they travelled to the Tangled Shore.

A mote of panic made its way into their mind as they landed and gathered the items; what if he didn’t like any of this? They could just leave the goods on the ship and not have to worry about being mocked...or making him feel patronised by their silly traditions. Roost’s slitted glare forced them to continue though. He completely believed Crow and Glint would appreciate the gestures and Kestral hoped that he’d been speaking with the new Lightbearer’s Ghost to confirm as much. Either that or Roost had far too much faith in his goofy Guardian’s ideas on ‘welcoming’ and ‘festivities’.

Of course all that was immediately followed by the slap in the face that was ‘realising they wanted Crow to be happy’ and decided to focus on fitting everything in their arms instead.

Naturally the easiest way to get everything to the lair would have been to transmat it all at the same time, but something had to be said for riding up with a stack of goodies. Plus Spider hated it when they rolled in on their sparrow and ditched it in the corridor for a while before sending it away. He’d not been impressed on seeing that his (least) favourite Guardian seemed to have something other than work on their mind but he said little about it. Kestrel strode by quickly regardless because any conversation with Spider that could be avoided, should be.

Glint heard them before they’d rounded the corner, floating just out of view of the entrance, little eye lighting up brighter when he realised who’d turned up. And that they had stuff.

“You didn’t warn us!”

Kestrel struck an awkward pose, upper body ladened with their bounty, “Surprise?”

Crow’s head peeked around into the corridor soon after they’d spoken, a small tilt of the head and raised eyebrow as he glanced towards Glint questioningly. The Ghost simply rounded on Kestral and Roost, nudging them into the room before spinning excitedly.

“What is all this?”

Although trying not to meet his confused face - for fear, embarrassment or shame - the Hunter realised they’d need some extra arms to sort things out. Especially since Crow’s work surfaces seemed to be partially covered in machinery and scrap, with the other parts covered in grease and...Hive gunk? No matter what it was, it was no place for cookies. Placing the small stack in his arms Kestral quickly slung the lights over...something...and powered them up.

The small ‘oh’ could’ve come from either Glint or Crow, they weren’t sure.

“Do you have somewhere sort of clean to sit?”

Glancing over to a seat fashioned from assorted stuff Crow made a pained grimace, “Not going to lie I’m not exactly used to having guests.”

No matter. An ‘only slightly ruined dust sheet’ thrown over it and Kestral was satisfied that it would do for something to sit on for a bit. They took the mini festive haul back from Crow and gestured for him to perch as they held out the tin of cookies.

“I wasn’t sure what flavour you like so…” their smile was awkward, “Yeah. I made a bunch.”

“A bunch of what?”

The Ghosts’ simultaneous outbursts made both Lightbearers startle a little and when Glint settled into a very gentle description of Dawning cookie traditions Kestral took their seat beside him, swinging their legs up to hug their knees.

“Dig in. I bought hot drinks too.”

During the time taken for Kestral to find a comfortable position and for Roost to nestle into his favourite resting spot - Kestrel’s fluffy shoulders - Crow had taken bites of, what looked like, one of each cookie flavour and Glint was telling him which flavours they probably were. Once again Kestral found themself forgetting some of the weird past involving the body beside them, and investing themself in how engrossed in trying cookies he was. How much fun Glint was having talking about festivals now that they’d both finally been able to experience a bit. How much more there was to come and-

“Sorry, do you want some?”

The Hunter blinked up at him, “They’re all yours. I don’t want to help myself to your gift.”

“Glint sa-” the little Ghost tapped a point of his shell against Crow’s face and the New Light stuttered, “Thank you, Kestral. Roost.”

A saccharine warmth filled their chest for a moment, Roost’s shell fluttering again at the shared happiness and pride. They wanted to hate it so much. ‘Past Kestral’ screamed internally about grief and pain and weariness. ‘Present Kestral’ was tired of that and kind of liked the soft smile on their companion’s face - just because they knew they’d helped, nothing else of course - and the way his little Light seemed to buzz with the sheer affection at seeing his Guardian content.

“One more thing,” they press the small gift into his hands, “Don’t get too excited.”

The Awoken’s slightly blank stare prompted Glint into another explanation about how ‘the paper’s actually meant to be removed’ and so on, Kestral mesmerised - oh no - watching him deftly undo the bow they’d worked quite hard to form, reel the ribbon into a roll and then carefully unwrap the paper, Glint all the while egging him on to tear it open since ‘gifts are supposed to be exciting’.

It wasn’t an exciting gift but they did what they could.

On the Crow’s lap lay a folded pile of thick wool and fleece, edges neatly stitched into tidy seams. The deep red of the main body of fabric seemed to be the ideal colour based on what he wore but...well, Roost had said it was a good idea. He’d unfolded it with care, running his hands over the plush underside of the item, that same soft smile on his face.

“Aha, a cosy blanket.”

“I’m sorry if it’s not much I-”

“No! No, it’s...nice. Spider doesn’t supply much in the way of luxury, and…” his voice was a kind laugh as he gestured down to his lap where Glint had already made himself a nest in the folds of the blanket, “...I think it’ll be well used.”

Kestral hadn’t intended to spend almost a full day on the Shore chattering with Crow but somewhere along the way, later into the evening, they’d dug out a camping stove, filled a pan with water and made up two hot chocolates by the colourful glow of the string lights. The pair had settled down, opposite ends of the makeshift bench, feet messily thrown somewhere on the ‘seat’ between them, warm cups in hand. And at some point while immersed in talk of other festivals celebrated at the tower, the blanket had made its way from just covering Crow’s knees to being shared across them both.

Underneath the lively Guardians’ conversation the pair of Lights quietly decided that this might become a little more complicated than they’d anticipated.

[silver-wield]

Cloud had every opportunity to validate his relationship between he and Tifa. He doesn’t tell aerith who he gave the flower to and when aerith asks if tifa is his girlfriend he’s quick to say no and when she says “she’s something special, right?” And he says “it’s not like that” that doesn’t sound like someone who’s in love... yet when Tifa questions the relationship he has with aerith, he can’t even answer... As a cloti fan I don’t think I can shobghis anymore... 😔

Ok, let’s breakdown how Cloud’s behaviour works again. 

Not that some people understand that having mental illness and crafting a false persona to protect their own psyche means they do things that are contradictory to their own true feelings at times. They seem to think SOLDIER Cloud is another way of saying “He’S jUsT zAcK”. Which isn’t that at all and they need to stop purposely misunderstanding the point.

SPOILERS FOR CLOUD’S ENTIRE BACKSTORY. 

Cloud: introverted, socially awkward, no father figure, low self-esteem, lives in a very small town with little culture and few kids his age. Of those kids, the majority don’t like him because they’re assholes (yeah I said it).

Tifa: childhood friend and crush, who isn’t an asshole to him because she’s a literal fucking sweetheart (don’t even try and @ me). Shy, reserved, polite, kind, also can be reckless af.

Age 8, Tifa’s mother dies and she gets it into her head that she can go visit her at the top of mt Nibel because that’s where she gets the impression the lifestream touches the planet.

Cloud (9), follows her and her friends up the mountain and stays with her as they chicken out. He and Tifa have an accident, which results in Tifa being unconscious for 7 days. During that time she’s unconscious (but yknow some ppl say she should’ve still cleared up the misunderstanding WHILE UNCONSCIOUS, despite never learning of it even after she woke up), her friends throw Cloud under the bus to her father as the reason why she went there. Tifa’s father puts all the blame for it on him (douchebag move, but he’s an upset parent who’s just lost his wife and now doesn’t know if his daughter will live or die. I’m not excusing him, but he’s got reasons other than “let’s victimise Cloud”.) Tifa’s father tells Cloud that if he isn’t capable of protecting her then he should keep his distance.

Cloud resolves to become stronger and thanks to Stamp propaganda and Sephiroth hero worship he decides to become a SOLDIER.

Tifa never says anything about this being what she wants. She likes Cloud just as he is.

Skip forward a few years and Cloud’s 14, has kept his word not to hang out with Tifa, not that it stops her wanting his attention.

The promise scene occurs, where Cloud tries to get Tifa to admit she likes him and Tifa gets Cloud to promise to return to town just once so she can see him again (because these idiots have no idea they mutually like each other in a romantic sense).

Skip forward another 2 years.

Cloud (16) isn’t a SOLDIER, but he’s got to go to Nibelheim with Zack and Sephiroth. He hides from Tifa, ashamed that he isn’t the man he promised he’d become.

Tifa (15) who’s massively disappointed Cloud wasn’t with them, ends up seriously injured by Sephiroth after he loses his marbles. 

Cloud appears and saves her, killing Sephiroth. 

Zangan takes Tifa away from Nibelheim - and good thing too or she’d have ended up a test subject with the others.

Cloud and Zack are stuffed in chambers to be experimented on.

4 years go by and Zack saves Cloud who’s suffering mako poisoning. They make it to Midgar, which takes around a year, where Zack then dies, leaving his sword to Cloud. 

Cloud still suffering from mako poisoning and now also with PTSD and all his other previous issues, shambles into Midgar where Tifa finds him.

Here’s the bit people like to misunderstand.

Cloud is infected with Jenova cells, which warp his perception and make him susceptible to Sephiroth’s control. (This is proven by a moment at the end of the game where Cloud’s hand twitches in response to Sephiroth asking for his help)

Zack told Cloud a lot of stories, both before he was poisoned and after. These combined with Jenova’s mind warping, the mako poisoning itself and Cloud’s own severe trauma allowed him to craft a false persona for himself, which he needed to protect his real psyche from a further mental breakdown.

Cloud is a mentally ill protagonist.

Cloud uses the SOLDIER persona he’s crafted as a shield to function in daily life. He’s unaware of what he’s done. He believes SOLDIER!Cloud is the only psyche. We get to see real!Cloud on screen at the beginning of Chapter 8 asking SOLDIER!Cloud if he’s ok. Real!Cloud specifically refers to the childhood event on mt Nibel with Tifa where he “got away with scraped knees”. SOLDIER!Cloud doesn’t know what he’s talking about because it’s a real!Cloud memory and not one he’s privy to. Any time SOLDIER!Cloud tries reconnecting to his true self he ends up in pain. He’s not ready to be whole yet.

Behind the shield is an emotionally stunted, very ill man who spent four years as a lab rat, suffered countless traumas, witnessed his home burned and saw the girl he loved stabbed. The real Cloud is a weak, flawed human being who isn’t in a good enough head space to function, let alone do all the things that’s needed of him during events in the game.

Cloud doesn’t think he’s Zack. The only time that argument can even be used is in a 23 year old game that has clear script problems all over the place. That information is outdated and been debunked several times over.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Now, onto the points you raised.

Cloud cannot connect his real persona and the feelings he has for Tifa with this false persona he has. The SOLDIER persona acts as both a shield and a wall preventing things from affecting the real!Cloud behind it. Nothing gets in or out. That’s why Cloud can’t articulate his feelings for Tifa. It’s not because he doesn’t feel anything for her, it’s because he can’t connect to those feelings until after he’s reunited the fractured parts of his psyche -- which only happens because of Tifa during the lifestream sequence. It’s then he’s able to get back in touch with those feelings and express them. It’s not because they don’t exist. He never, at any point, in 7R says he doesn’t have feelings for Tifa. He says she’s not his girlfriend - fact, she isn’t. He says in response to Aerith asking “she’s someone special” that “it’s not like that” but then gets cut off, like every other point in the game where he’s about to try and explain his feelings. He doesn’t know how he feels because those feelings belong to real!Cloud and not SOLDIER!Cloud. We get a clear view of how Real!Cloud feels about Tifa during the plate fall. At several points, the urge to comfort Tifa is seen. That’s not SOLDIER!Cloud’s urge, it’s real!Cloud’s. When he sees her crying during Jessie’s cut scene, when he sees her on her knees at the top of the plate, when his hand twitches as Barret hugs her. All of these are canon non-optional moments that build a picture of real!Cloud wanting to express his feelings to Tifa, but not being able to. The resolution is the culmination of those feelings. He takes his time hugging her back because the SOLDIER persona is trying to protect him still, but the real!Cloud breaks through long enough to hug her. And he does so hard because he needs comfort. He’s gone through so much that he’s broken inside. That’s why he hugs her until it hurts. Because he hurts. 

His response to Tifa’s question about Aerith isn't shipping. Tifa’s first words when she wakes are an urgent affirmation to get home and save the slum. Cloud agrees. She then asks Cloud how he knows Aerith, after expressing concern she'll get hurt by going with them. Tifa and Cloud are eco terrorists and as far as she knows Aerith is a normal girl. Nobody would want a civilian dragged into danger. And Cloud has been in Midgar for four days and spent most of them with Avalanche and Tifa. She's curious how they're friends because she knows Cloud isn't a people person. Cloud explains Aerith saved him, but when? It's clearer in the JP because the phrasing is that Cloud was in the kind of danger that worries Tifa. She wants to know what kind of danger Cloud would get into that he couldn't handle. Well he's not talking physical danger. He's talking about how Aerith helped him save Tifa. Because that's the kind of dork he is. He's referring to the phrase Aerith said to Sam about making sure Cloud wouldn't have to live without Tifa. That's what he means by her saving his life. Because he can't live without Tifa. So, it's obvious why that's not made a bigger deal of in disc one.

He doesn’t tell Aerith who he gave the flower to because it’s none of her goddamn business. She’s a stranger being nosy. He’s got no obligation to tell her what he did with it. If someone you met twice start sticking their nose in your personal business you’d be cagey too. That’s a meaningless moment that certain people cling to because they’re idiots.

Sorry, this got long. Hope it clears a few things up though. I probably missed a few details here and there.

TLDR: Cloud has mental illness and isn’t capable of love due to a fractured psyche, so can’t answer anyone when they ask.

[wendibird]

SPN 15X14 Observations

So, for whatever dumbass reason, when trying to use my actual television, the cable refuses to work properly 8 times out of 10. BUT I was able to stream tonight’s episode on my computer with my cable network’s app. So, there’s that. Because of that, and since it’s easier for me to type on my keyboard than on my phone, I actually took quick notes and observations during commercial breaks. Here are those, then some more of my thoughts following. (And I’m sorry if any of these seem a bit incoherent. They were more my observations to myself. *LOL*  

(everything else under the keep reading line since I got a bit rambly, and just in case anyone wants to avoid spoilers)

- Brothers being written a bit like characters of themselves rather than just themselves. (trying too hard?)

- Love Mrs. Butters. Actress really good. And the minor ret-con works with what we've seen.

- Sam more concerned about Jack. I think he understands him better, even though he hasn't seen much of him.

- "Ignoring your trauma doesn't make you healthy." (or something like that.) Good quote!

- Waiting for the catch.

- "Enjoy the world you're fighting for." (compare with Kevin's similar line: "I can't enjoy a world I need to save.")

- Mrs. Butters knows Jack isn't human.

- BOY did the shoe drop! But it was Sinclaire involved. Not surprised he took advantage of her natural protective nature.

- Wanted more plot for WHY exactly they still have Thor's Hammer. Have they had it this whole time? Last we saw Sam dropped it in 8X2. Or did Mrs. Butters conjure it up because they might need it? Was cool though that Sam was using it. Because we already know he can.

- Jack figured out on his own how to use the projector. (love that boy!)

- liked hearing him talk about what happened with Mary and how he feels.

- Mrs. Butters knows from experience about needing "second chances" I think.

- Why were they ALWAYS wearing the same clothes during the "We got one!" montages? Assuming it was supposed to have taken place over several days at least if not longer. (I highly doubt they went out on THAT many hunts in one day.)

- Yeeeah... So I get she's protective, but JACK IS BABY! She can clearly see his power levels but she has to have seen how he he actually IS? But she gave him the smoothies from the start, so she's been planning it from almost the start. Hrm.

- idk what anyone else says, I'm thrilled that Sam and Eileen had a date. Also, THIS is where that sweater-vest comes from. Bet we'll see him going for his gun too. (That clip was hotly debated in one of the discord servers I’m on)

- Dean is obviously still having some issues with Jack, but he also seems to know that they're his personal issues and he knows that Jack is good. (Expanding on this thought post episode, I was seeing this as Dean recognizing the difference between what he knows and what he’s feeling. So, yey! Personal growth!)

- DEAN JACK IS NOT A BATTERING RAM!!!

- Dean sees Jack as a weapon. He used him as a battering ram. He'll use him as a grenade to throw at Chuck. (More on this after the notes.)

- Sam sees him as a person. His argument was that Jack was someone he cared about. That killing him would HURT him.

- Also, did they HAVE to go for the fingernails again?!

- Poor Sam, getting tortured. And being the "favorite" of something bad.

- Also, SAM WAS RIGHT! To be cautious of her at first. Too many times he's had things/people seem good and turn out opposite.

- And because Dean had decided it was all okay, they both stopped looking up on her.

- Maybe Sam will realize that he doesn't always have to follow Dean's lead. He can pursue his own paths. (Not talking about them separating. Just, if he wants to look into something, he should do it. If he wants to follow a different lead, he should check it out.)

- I know he lost a lot of confidence last season but I hope he realizes that he doesn't by default make bad decisions.

- Okay, that was a good resolution. I'm glad she's going back to her people.

- Interdimensional geoscope: Dean saw nothing. Because ALL the other universes are gone. *sad-face*

- Love Sam and Jack. Wish we got a bit more. But it was something.

- Also love that Dean tried. That felt real to me. (the birthday cake)

More thoughts! 

So. Overall I liked this episode. It was lighthearted mostly, but touched on some serious topics and wasn’t completely disconnected with what is going on with everyone, despite the random holiday montage. *LOL* (Yes, I know she wasn’t bending time or anything, she was just choosing to celebrate some holidays with her boys regardless of when this is all taking place exactly.) It did feel a bit to me, at the start anyway, like the writing at least was trying too hard to “Sound like Sam and Dean” instead of just them being them. I mentioned that at the start but what I mean is, in this season especially (but not exclusively) I’ve noticed a lot of times where it feels to me like the writing/directing/whatever leads to the sum total of what we see is trying too hard to present this idea of who the characters are, like caricatures of them. The things associated with them get emphasized, sometimes out of proportion. Though in this episode, it only felt like that during the opening scene and maybe a few places elsewhere. Overall I thought the writing and especially the acting on the parts of the main 3 guys and the guest actor were well done and had a lot of nuance when needed. Like, as an example, when Sam and Dean sussed out that this being that they didn’t even know was a bit behind the times, they were actually pretty gentle with bringing her up to speed. And her reaction to realizing that everyone she knew before was dead felt very real. 

I liked what we saw of where each of the characters were emotionally this episode. It was the first one after Jack has been re-souled and it had definitely been weighing on my mind how everyone was doing. (Though I REALLY wish we could have actually seen Sam and Dean’s reactions to Jack tearfully begging their forgiveness last episode. But lacking any other input, I’m headcannoning that Sam gave him a very long, warm hug.)  

I also agree with Sam, I think there’s something more that Jack hasn’t told them yet, probably some details about Billy’s plan that he or her are sure the brothers won’t like. (Now, what exactly that could be is very much up in the air. I can think of quite a few options, but the details aren’t really important to me just now. Just the fact that something about it is weighing on Jack. More than just Mary’s death and the prospect of having to kill God. Which, in and of themselves would be more than enough.) 

Speaking of Sam, I liked that we saw all those little nods to how he feels about Jack, how he’s still worried about him, and seems to understand him. 

I also get where Dean’s coming from. And I thought it was well-portrayed. And let me just say, I am GLAD that he just outright told Jack where he was at. He didn’t sugarcoat it, but he also didn’t blow up at him, or reply with sarcasm or bring up other, unrelated stuff. Dean knows that Jack is trying, but he himself has some emotional stuff he needs to deal with. That he is dealing with. And it’s going to take him some time. 

I do however stand by my observation made during the episode that at least at that point in it, Dean considered Jack a weapon. An asset. He literally used him as a battering ram, and in a more meta way, he’s planning on using him as a grenade to throw at God. Even when arguing with Mrs. B about it, his response was in reference to Jack’s usefulness. Whereas Sam was arguing that Jack meant something to him, that he cared about him, and hurting Jack would hurt him. Now, I do think that Dean’s POV had shifted a bit by the very end. Dean’s love language has almost always been shown by doing things for people, and taking care of them. So him making that birthday cake for Jack really felt to me like him trying to tell him that he does actually care about him. And I think Jack got it. And true, the cake might not have been as neat and pretty as Mrs. B would have made it, but I thought it was beautiful because of all the thought that went into it. (Dean’s more of a cook than a baker too.) 

As a side note, something I thought about after the episode: when Mrs. B stepped in, she kind of took over that care-taker role. AND the research role. She made them lunches, cooked them dinners, decorated for holidays, and overall made them feel comfortable and safe. And she also pin-pointed where monsters were and made sure they were all stocked-up and ready to go. All they had to do was show up and get it done. And yeah, it must have been a nice break from the norm. But I also think about how much Dean finds his identity beyond hunting in taking care of people. And how much Sam finds his identity in researching and figuring things out. And with her doing that, they both took it easy on those ends. Dean didn’t have to make burgers for everyone since Mrs. B made a roast. Sam didn’t have to research since she could tell them where the monsters were and what kind. I almost wonder if both of them were starting to feel like those parts of themselves were all of a sudden unnecessary. (Which makes me a little sad, because it reminds me a bit of the “two cakes” concept in fandom. Who cares if someone else can “do it better”? If you do it, then there’ll be even more of the good thing!)  And as I observed above, Sam also stopped looking into HER. I mean, he didn’t even know what would kill a wood nymph. And I do think part of that also goes back to him having recently fallen back on letting Dean make the big decisions. Because last season so many of his blew up in his face. (Though I don’t think most of that was his fault. But Sam tends to blame himself for a lot.) And I do hope that maybe he’ll remember that he does have good instincts when he listens to them. And he can keep looking into something even if Dean thinks it’s fine. It’s not a betrayal to be prepared. 

ALSO! Being the absolute Saileen hoe that I am, even though we didn’t Eileen in this episode, I was thrilled that Sam went out on a date with her because she was in town! And true, we don’t know what all went down, but regardless, I see it as good that they’re at the very least still friends, and that hopefully Eileen is sorting out her own feelings vs whatever she might think could be Chuck’s manipulations. Even if Saileen isn’t Engame (and honestly, as much as I love it, I don’t think it will be) I would still like for them to be on good terms with each other. (And for her to NOT get fridged again!) 

Another thing I was pondering afterwards and a bit during: I wasn’t surprised that Sam held up to the torture fairly well. I mean, it still obviously hurt! (And again, WHY with the fingernails again?! As someone in one of my discord servers mentioned, we didn’t need THAT particular call-back to the Christmas Episode of Season 3!) But he was listening to what she was saying. And he understood the implications that she had been tortured into acting how they wanted her to act. And Sam understands torture, and how it can mess someone up. And despite what she had done to him, and was trying to still do, he validated what she had been through. He empathized with her. And that.... it’s just SO Sam! 

I will say that the resolution felt a little... abrupt. Like, her expression had changed a little during the fight/argument. Then back from the commercial break and she’s all packed-up and ready to leave and they’re all saying goodbye and wishing her well. I feel like there might have been some more scenes or parts of scenes that were originally there connecting things up more, but were cut for time.

I wouldn’t say this was a groundbreaking episode, but it WAS fun, and it did have some seriousness at it’s core, and I think it did what it needed to do. 

(And I apologize if this is just a big rambling mess. I’m not used to doing structured episode reviews. *LOL* Feedback and opinions are welcome though!) 

[bubonickitten]

Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Previous chapter: AO3 // tumblr

Chapter 13 full text & content warnings below the cut.

CWs for Chapter 13: all the usual Buried-related warnings apply (claustrophobia, inability to breathe, etc.); panic/anxiety symptoms; just a smidgen of internalized aphobia; brief mention of past passive suicidal ideation; internalized victim blaming; canon-typical trauma (including discussion of victims targeted by the Fears as children).SPOILERS through S5.

Chapter 13: Center

The darkness and overwhelming pressure of the Buried make it nigh impossible to orient oneself. The only conceivable directions are forward, down, into, deeper. Jon’s only choice, when he has one at all, is to keep moving – and so he does, digging and clawing his way through the muck, making a transient pathway for himself as best he can.

“Daisy?” It comes out as a rasp. He tries to swallow, but succeeds only in upsetting his already-sore throat. It feels as though the dirt and debris have taken up permanent residence there, clogging his airway just enough to leave him chronically short of breath without cutting off his oxygen supply entirely. “Daisy, can you reach me?”

“Jon,” comes the weak reply, “I’m – I don’t know where – I c-can’t – can’t see –”

“I hear you,” Jon says. “I’m here, I’m coming to you. Just – keep talking, and –”

As he talks, he inhales a cloud of dust, dissolving into wracking coughs.

“Jon? Jon, are you still there?” For a long moment, Jon cannot speak. Daisy’s next words are steeped in panic. “Where are you? I can’t… p-please be there, please –”

“I’m still here,” Jon forces out hoarsely, stretching his arm forward as far as it will go. “I’m not going anywhere. Follow my voice, I – I think I’m almost –”

Chill fingertips brush against his, and he throws his weight forward as much as possible. He hooks her fingers in his and pulls, and with a burst of energy he manages to clasp her clammy hand in his.

“There you are,” he says, smiling weakly.

“You’re real,” Daisy says in disbelief, crushing his hand in a bruising grip. “You’re real.”

“I am.” He intertwines their fingers, as grateful as she is for a hand to hold. “I’m here, Daisy.”

“Daisy,” she says dreamily. “Yeah. Daisy. That’s me.” A pause. “Just – just me.”

Jon closes his eyes with a relieved sigh. There are no signs that the Hunt still has its claws in her. He had no reason to think that reaching her a couple weeks earlier than before would change anything, but there was still that nagging doubt.

“J-just me,” she says again, but this time there’s a waver in her voice. “Just – alone –”

“No,” Jon says hurriedly, squeezing her hand several times in quick succession, “not – not alone. Not anymore.”

“Yeah.” She grasps his hand even more tightly, as if to reassure herself.

“I’m here.”

“Yeah,” she says again, and this time it sounds like she’s starting to believe it.

“How – how are you?” Jon cringes. It’s as stupid a question now as it was the last time. Moreso, seeing as he’s already heard the answer. “S-sorry. That’s – probably obvious.”

Daisy answers anyway, likely glad of the chance to talk to someone else after so long in isolation.

“I – I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t…” She trails off, hesitating. “But it’s… it’s quiet here? I can’t…”

She seems to be struggling to find the words.

“You can’t feel the blood,” he supplies.

“Y-yeah. How did you…”

“I can’t feel the Eye, either. It’s… it’s just me. All me.”

“Where are we?”

“In the Coffin. The Buried. It’s… the powers don’t have much sway within one another’s domains. The Hunt, the Eye – they can’t reach us here.”

“The Hunt,” she echoes.

“Yes. You’re a Hunter.”

“I… I guess I was. But – not here.”

No, not here. But once they leave here…

Stop, he tells himself. One thing at a time. Escape the Buried, then worry about the Hunt.

“Come on.” He tugs on her hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Can’t – can’t move, and – and even if I could, there’s no way out –”

“No, I – I can get us out. I have a plan.”

“Is this like all your other plans?”

Jon chuckles, but it comes out as a wheeze.

“Yes and no. But – but don’t worry, it’s – I can do this. I just – need to – to find it.”

But when he closes his eyes and concentrates, there’s… nothing there.

“Come on,” he says under his breath, keeping his voice deliberately calm. “Come on, where are you?”

There’s nothing there. Why is there nothing there?

“Just need to… need to focus. Just – focus, think of…”

Think of Martin. Martin is your anchor. Clever, brave, loyal, compassionate Martin.

He was kind to you even when you didn’t deserve it; he cared for you even though you did everything you could to push him away. He reached out to you through the Lonely when you were at your most monstrous to remind you of the humanity you’d thought you lost. He made you want to do better, to be the person that he saw when he looked at you.

You followed him into the Lonely because you love him and because he deserved to know it. You need to return to him now, because this version of him doesn’t yet know that he is loved. If you don’t get back to him, if you don’t reach out to him – he’ll get lost, and he –

Jon’s breath hitches. The fear is starting to move in as inexorably as the earth surrounding them, settling cold and heavy in his gut.

Stop that, he tells himself. Just think about Martin, not the worst case scenario.

Everyone underestimates him, because he spent his entire life striving for the perfect balance between useful and unobtrusive. But he’s not helpless; he’s not a pushover. He took master manipulator Jonah Magnus by surprise; he fooled Peter Lukas for months. Sometimes, you think that Martin Blackwood could outmaneuver the Web if he cared to. If anyone could, it would be him. You don’t think you’ll ever fully forgive yourself for taking so long to notice.

No, Jon tells himself once more, recognizing the warning signs of a guilt spiral. That won’t help. Redirect.

In those early days after the ritual, you briefly defaulted to your old habits, withdrawing and shutting him out. He stood up to your brooding, gave your self-loathing no refuge in which to thrive, because he saw right through your sharp tongue to the vulnerable parts of you that it was meant to hide.

He is intuitive, stubborn, and patient in the best of ways.

You have a tendency to stare. You always have; you typically don’t notice you’re doing it. After you became the Archivist, it went from being an awkward habit to evidence of your inhumanity: all eyes, always watching, always demanding more, more, more until every secret is exposed and any semblance of privacy has been demolished.

But it was never just the Eye urging you to record things. You know from experience that nothing lasts forever, that anyone and anything can disappear without a moment’s notice – sometimes leaving no trace, no memory that they ever existed. It only makes sense that you would develop a compulsion to document everything for posterity. The tape recorders were only the most recent manifestation of that preexisting obsession. Before that, you made lists, you took pictures, you wrote on your hands – and, of course, you stared.

During your first few days together at the safehouse, Martin called attention to the staring. You were mortified, launched into a rambling apology – but he shut it down, reassured you that he was only teasing, that he didn’t mind it, that it was… endearing, in a way. And once you were given permission, you began to consciously catalog every little detail.

He has thirty-six freckles on his face, seventeen on his hands, and constellations of them besides: on his back, on his shoulders, on his arms, on his belly. He blushes easily, and you love it, because you’ve never been good at reading body language, and you can always use a hint. His hair is soft, and the way he leans into it when you run your fingers through it – you think he would purr if he could. You were hesitant, at first, to spend too long looking at his eyes – but unlike most people, he showed no signs that he found eye contact with you unsettling.

You gave him permission to stare, too. And he did. He never shied away from your scars. He liked looking at you – and you knew he was genuine when he said so, even though you didn’t understand it.

Martin is self-conscious about his size, painfully aware of how others see him. He rarely stands to his full height, tending to curl his shoulders in, maintain a curve to his spine, keep his arms pulled tight to his body: anything to avoid towering over others, anything to take up as little space as possible. He saw his stretch marks as flaws to be tolerated; spent most of his life assuming that his weight and soft edges made him unattractive.

There are so many things he hates about himself. It broke your heart a little, to see how difficult it was for him to believe that you like looking at him, that your boundaries regarding physical intimacy weren’t a comment on his desirability. (Though he never voiced that last concern, never wanted his own insecurities to make you feel self-conscious about that part of you. Never made you feel guilty or lacking or… or broken.)

You regularly stole his jumpers; the first time you did it, he went speechless and flustered at the casual domesticity of it all. You took turns ambushing one another with affirmations and small acts of affection like that. It became something of a challenge, a game: springing a pet name on one another here, placing a soft kiss on a hand there, delighting in the reactions it got. It’s strange how easily you settled into that routine, how natural it felt to let down your guard.

At night, he would curl around you like he belonged there, like there was no place he’d rather be – and it made you feel like you belong, too. The first time he held you in his arms, you realized that you’d never truly known what it was to feel safe until that moment – and isn’t that its own special kind of vulnerability, isn’t it such a cliché? You still had nightmares, still jolted awake several times throughout the night frantic and disoriented – as did he – but it felt so much more endurable with someone to coax you back to reality.

When you first led him out of the Lonely, it was still clinging to him. He couldn’t understand what you saw in him, any more than you could understand what he saw in you. You made it your mission to make him understand. And eventually, he did. It wasn’t the first time you told him you loved him, but one morning when you said it, he looked at you and his lips parted ever so slightly, and you could practically see the epiphany dawn in his eyes, and he whispered that he believed you.

You still haven’t found a word that accurately describes what you felt then. You kissed him, and hoped that it would say what words could not.

You never gave up on each other, even when you’d given up on your own selves. He never stopped caring for you, even when you were at your most fearsome and fearful. Despite everything, you communicated, you compromised, you comforted one another. You never stopped loving one another.

You lost him once before. You cannot lose him again. You need to find him. Why – why can’t you find him? Why can’t you feel him?

Jon feels his breath quickening, terror needling at the edges of his mind. He jumps slightly when Daisy speaks.

“Jon?”

“It’s – it’s okay,” he says, his voice shaky. “I’ve – I’ve done this once before. I can do this.”

There’s no rule saying he can only have one anchor, right?

He thinks of Georgie.

She took you in when you had nowhere else to go, even though you hadn’t spoken in years, even though you hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Staying with her felt more like home than you’d experienced in… you don’t know how long. It made you realize how much you missed her – her humor, her ingenuity, her confidence, her tenacity, her generosity, and, yes, even her perceptiveness, daunting though it may be at times. She speaks her mind and you can take her at her word. You can appreciate that, as someone who has always had trouble parsing the implicit and unspoken aspects of social life.

You trust her judgment, and she believes in you, and it makes you want to believe in yourself. You want to be there for her in the same way that she’s chosen to be there for you.

He thinks of Melanie.

You disliked one another at first meeting, even though – or perhaps because – you have so much in common. Over the years, you saw more sides to her. She’s brave and resolute, not just when it comes to fighting back, but when it comes to making the conscious decision to heal. She’s capable of kindness to those who are receptive to it. You’ve seen how she is with Georgie, how her hard edges relax, how her devotion is as fierce as her anger can be – perhaps moreso.

You know that she never deserved to suffer like she has. You know she deserves a happy ending. You want to try to reconcile with her. In your future, she went so far as to suggest that you could be friends. You think you would like that.

He thinks of Basira.

She’s had no one but herself to rely on for months. She feels trapped and alone; she hasn’t had a moment to grieve; she’s forced herself to compartmentalize and detach because if she breaks down, she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to put herself back together again. She’s told herself that her own comfort and wellbeing don’t matter. She has a job to do and she’s the only one left who is willing and able to do it. The only solid thing left in her life, the only thing giving her purpose is the mission. The mission is her anchor, because she’s lost everything else.

When she found out that Daisy was alive, she was almost angry with you for making her dare to hope. You promised that you would bring Daisy home to her, and you mean to keep that promise.

And Jon has a job to do, too, doesn’t he?

You need to stop Jonah Magnus, you need to –

His stomach clenches as the dread grips him.

Okay, no. Don’t – don’t think of Jonah. Not helpful, not helpful, not –

He reaches further. He tries to think of Naomi, of the Admiral, of –

The faraway rumbling starts up again.

“Jon,” Daisy says again, urgently, perched on the edge of panic right along with him.

This is forever deep below creation, some self-sabotaging part of his brain reminds him. Where the weight of existence bears down. This is the Buried, and we are alive. There isn’t even an up –

“I just – I just – I just need to calm down,” he stammers. He can feel his pulse beating in his throat; would be hyperventilating if he could breathe at all. “I – I can’t think straight, and I just need to…”

He thinks back to the physical details of the world just outside the Coffin.

The arrangement of the tapes –

…CASE #0160919 sits 34.2 centimeters west of the Coffin, turned at a 45-degree angle. Approximately 20.6 centimeters south-southwest is CASE #0172904; the casing of its recorder is slightly cracked at the lower left corner. 2.4 centimeters to its right is CASE #0171302; the rewind button on the recorder housing it tends to stick…

– on the floor of his office –

…where fingernail scratches are still visible in the northwest corner of the room, left there by Enrique MacMillan on 4 November, 2003, after he gave his statement regarding his encounter with a Buried-touched Leitner…

– and the tape he left on his desk –

…on top of a softcover Moleskine notebook – black, 12.7 by 21 centimeters, ruled – belonging to Martin Blackwood; the Archivist knows every word written thus far on the 68 used out of 192 total pages within…

– and on that tape are pleas that went unanswered for far too long, laced with desperation and grief and rapidly dwindling hope –

…We really need you, Jon. We – I need you …

– but Jon cannot hear it anymore.

His mind wanders to the single folded sheet of paper tucked away in the top drawer of his desk. A second message for Martin, to be read only in the event that Jon doesn’t return. A transcript, to be precise.

On their way to the Panopticon, they had been separated when they traversed the Lonely’s domain. Jon had searched frantically, resisting the urge to simply Know because he had promised. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t feel right forcing Martin to See him the way he did before. It was Martin’s domain, and he had the right to decide for himself whether to leave it behind. Even if Jon had wanted to, though, he suspected that he wouldn’t have been able to actually find Martin this time unless he wanted to be found. And in the end, he did.

Just before Jon found him, he managed to catch the tail end of Martin’s statement. Naturally, the Archive memorized every word and dutifully filed it away without any conscious effort or consent on Jon’s part.

…I am Martin Blackwood, and I am not Lonely anymore; I am not Lonely anymore. I want to have friends. I – no, I have friends. I’m in love. I am in love, and I will not forget that; I will not forget…

Before he entered the Coffin, Jon copied it down and left it behind. Just in case. Just in case something goes wrong. If he goes missing in action for too long, he trusts that eventually someone will clear out his desk, find it, and hopefully pass it along to its intended recipient.

It was a last-ditch effort to impart the truth: that a future exists wherein Martin isn’t Lonely; that he can be and is and deserves to be cared for; that it isn’t just an unattainable fantasy. And, most importantly, Jon is not the only one who can provide that, nor is Jon alone enough to fulfill that need. In the end, Martin chose to turn his back on the Lonely. He can do it again.

There’s every chance that it was a meaningless gesture, but Jon doesn’t think he could live with himself if he didn’t at least try – and if he does get lost down here, he’ll be forced to live with himself for as long as the Buried itself exists.

But Jon doesn’t want to leave Martin alone with that inexplicable scrap of statement, hoping that it’s enough to get the point across. Jon has to get home. He has to; there’s no other choice –

“Jon?” Daisy says again. “You sound like you’re… what – what’s wrong?”

“Sorry, I’m – I’m just… I can’t – I can’t feel my anchor.”

“Anchor?”

“Y-yeah. Something to ground me, help me feel the way out. It’s – there’s a void where it should be, and…” His short exhale shudders on the way out. “I think – I think we might be here for awhile longer.”

“N-not alone, though,” Daisy says, almost questioningly.

“No. No, not alone. And – and I can still get us out, I think,” he adds hurriedly. “I just – I need to… I need to come down from the panic, and it’s hard to do that when I can’t – I can’t breathe –“

His breath catches and he closes his eyes. Stop, he tells himself, you’re – you’re spiraling, talking yourself into a panic. Just… listen – listen to the quiet.

“Jon?”

“Still – still here,” he says, squeezing her hand again. “I’m not going anywhere without you, I promise.”

“Do you – if you need a break from – from whatever you’re doing…” She falters for a moment before blurting out: “C-can we… can we talk? I haven’t – I just want someone to hear me.”

“Of course. I’m listening.” When Daisy doesn’t reply, he offers a gentle prompting. “Daisy?”

“I’m – it’s difficult. I can’t find the words.”

“Would it help if I… ask?” The last time, it did help her get her thoughts out.

“Y-yeah,” she says with only a slight delay. “Do your… thing.”

“Right,” he says. For a moment, he worries that he’ll have difficulty concentrating long enough to compel an answer, but his mind clears almost as soon as he opens his mouth. Of course. “How are you feeling?”

The question buzzes like static on his tongue on its way out.

“S-scared. I – I’m – I’m s-scared…”

Daisy’s words do not deviate from the last time he was here, but he does not interrupt her as she speaks. He latches onto her voice, focuses all of his attention on her story, and tries to ground himself in the present.

“Y-you know what I thought, when I woke up here? I thought this was hell. I – I was dead, and I was in hell. And I - I knew I deserved it.” Daisy stifles a sob as she nears the end of her statement. “I don’t want t-to b-be a s-sadistic predator again. I – I don’t want to hobble around like some – pathetic wounded prey here. I don’t know which would be worse. But I’m scared now – that I won’t ever get the choice.”

One thing I’ve learned, Daisy, is that we all get a choice, he told her last time. Even if it doesn’t feel like one.

Now, though, he’s not so sure. Or, rather, now he thinks it isn’t quite that simple.

“It’s… complicated,” Jon starts slowly. “Choice, I mean. We all have choices, but – but when all the alternatives are unendurable, or impossible to achieve, or – or even conceptualize, then… well, it’s not a fair choice, is it? Sometimes because that’s just – how it is, and sometimes by design. There – there are people, and – and things out there that will abuse their power to deceive you, keep you ignorant about things that would affect your decisions. Or – or convince you that you have no options, no autonomy – or even that you can’t trust your own judgment, your own senses. Some choices can hardly be called choices at all.”

He begins to grind his teeth as he considers his next words, but stops as soon as he feels the grit between his molars when he bites down. There are a lot of things to hate about the Buried, but its refusal to allow him to engage in any of his usual nervous habits definitely adds insult to injury.

“You say you deserve to be here, but – do you think you deserved to be marked by the Hunt in the first place? Because one thing I’ve learned is… most people who become Avatars – we don't necessarily do anything to deserve the attention of the things that take notice of us. To be put in these positions, to be given impossible choices about – about things we have no right to decide in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems that a common thread is… well, um, I think Tim hit the nail on the head, actually? In his testament before the Unknowing, he – he said, ‘The only thing you need to have your life destroyed by this stuff is just bad luck. Talk to the wrong person, take the wrong train, open the wrong door, and that’s it.’”

“You remember that verbatim?”

“It’s – it’s an Archivist thing.” Well, technically. Jon can’t access the Archive right now, but some statements have looped so many times in his head that he has every word memorized by now. “But the point is that our transgressions, they… the punishment often doesn’t seem to fit the crime.”

Daisy is quiet, so Jon continues.

“Uh, Jane Prentiss, for instance – stumbled upon a wasps’ nest in her attic, and then the Corruption infested her. In her original statement, she was afraid of what was happening to her, she was asking for help, but it… it was slowly hollowing her out. Appealed to her insecurities, whispered to her that it was the only thing that could love her, that wouldn’t abandon her. Maybe eventually she embraced it on her own, but at that point, how much of her was left to make that choice?

“And – and Michael Crew. He was struck by lightning when he was eight. The Spiral never stopped stalking him after that. He spent his childhood in fear, obsessively sought out information about – lightning, and fractals, because understanding it felt like the only way to resist a thing that feeds on uncertainty.”

Jon can relate to that, can’t he? He was always curious, but his desire to know and understand things became more obsessive after he encountered his first monster – as if he could solve any problem if only he learned enough about it. But it was never enough, and that impulse never actually kept him safe. It only offered him a flimsy illusion of control, which was something he desperately needed after the Web showed him what it was like to have none. Still, an ineffective coping mechanism was better than not coping at all – or so he told himself then.

“When Mike realized that there was no escape from the supernatural once he’d been marked by it,” Jon continues, “he decided that the next best thing was choosing which Fear to submit to – to serve. Obsessively sought out Leitners until he found the Vast, and… it offered him safety. The most basic of human needs, something he hadn’t known since he was a child. The things he did to feed his patron were – indefensible, but I can’t help thinking about the person he might have been, if the Spiral hadn’t come into his life. He… he was only eight. How is a child supposed to process something that even an adult would have trouble coping with? I’m sure many children don’t even physically survive an encounter with one of the Fears, but even those that do… they never actually escape, do they?”

Daisy makes an indistinct little noise in her throat. Jon can’t Know for certain, but he imagines she’s thinking of her own first encounter with the Hunt. When enough time has passed that she doesn’t seem ready to say as much, Jon continues.

“And there’s – there’s Oliver Banks, he’s an Avatar of the End. He just started having dreams one day, became a death prophet. As far as I can tell, nothing provoked it. It just… happened. And early on, he tried to use that ability to help people, but… the powers granted us as Avatars, they aren’t for helping or saving anyone. When you realize that, after a long string of failures, you start to become… despondent – numb, even. Maybe some misstep along the way piqued the End’s interest in him, or maybe it was completely arbitrary. I don’t know. I don’t know that Oliver does, either.”

It’s difficult to speak at length here, and Jon’s speech is punctuated by frequent gasps and stops and starts, but he plows ahead. Granted, he’s always had a tendency toward intense, rapidfire speech whenever he gets invested in a topic of interest, but it’s also that he needs to cover as much ground as he can as quickly as possible. There’s no telling when the Buried will constrict again. Sometimes there are long intervals of relative peace; other times, the bouts of crushing pressure come one after the other in a barrage. The inconsistency makes the dread all the more potent: you can never predict when the walls will close in.

“And Helen,” he says, moving right along, “before she became the Distortion, she opened a door. That’s all. Most people would have probably done the same. A door that wasn’t there before, that can’t be there – of course the human mind wants to test its perceptions, make sense of the discrepancy. Which is exactly what the Distortion preys on. It let her escape its corridors, because it would make the fear that much more potent when it came for her again, when she realized that it had never actually let her go, that there was never any way to escape. It was… it was just playing with its food.”

Like with Benjamin Hatendi, Jon thinks. ‘The blanket never did anything.’

The Fears are never merciful. For an earthly predatory animal, the pain and fear of the prey are only relevant insofar as their utility in capturing it. Granted, the majority of animals may have no qualms about eating their prey alive so long as it’s incapacitated, no concept of putting their food out of its misery – but still, sustenance isn’t derived from the experience of the prey, only from its organic matter.

For the Powers, though… terror is the food source. If anything, the misery is deliberately drawn out. The suffering is primary to the meal.

“I still don’t know how much of Helen Richardson was left by the time she embraced her new existence and began feeding” – by the time she chose to stop feeling guilty, Jon notes privately – “but she never asked to be in that position to begin with. She just… opened a door.

“And you… all you did was trespass on a childhood dare, right? You and Calvin Benchley. I did hear the tape – of your interrogation with Elias. Maybe the Hunt chose the both of you, was deliberately waiting for you there. Or maybe you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, you… you did something that most children do at one point or another, exploring out bounds – I did plenty of that myself. And – and you’d done the same thing many times in the past, there was no reason to think that things would go any differently. But that time, that time you stumbled into something that most children – most people never do.”

Jon debates whether or not to share his own initiation into this world. He never told Daisy about it last time, but he knows – and Knows – about her childhood encounter. It seems only fair to include his own.

“Actually, I… I had a similar experience, when I was eight,” he admits, pushing through his habitual reservations. “Unlike Michael Crew, though, I was an active participant in my own fate. There’s no dodging a lightning strike, but me – I… I opened a book I shouldn’t have, knocked on a door I shouldn’t have. I could’ve just… not.”

“That’s a funny double standard,” Daisy says flatly.

“P-pardon?”

“Couldn’t you just as easily say that Crew could have chosen to not stand outside during a lightning storm?”

“He – he actually wanted to go inside, but his friend pressured him to keep playing,” Jon says, almost defensively. “By the time they decided to go in, it was too late.”

“Like I pressured Calvin.”

“That’s –” Jon gives an agitated little exhale. “It’s still different.”

“How?”

“Did you have a bad feeling about the dare, or was it just like any other day? You had no reason to think that things would go wrong. I… I knew that book was wrong, and I opened it anyway.” Daisy scoffs. “What?”

“Has anyone ever pointed out to you that you’re capable of some truly infuriating mental gymnastics?”

Jon puffs out another exasperated breath before muttering, “Yes.”

In fact, she said almost the exact same thing to him the last time around. And Georgie – she used to say so all the time, especially when they were dating.

“You always do this,” she’d pointed out once during an argument, hands on her hips and a shrewd look in her eye. “Any time a conversation gets a little too uncomfortable for you, you just – throw your hands up, say it’s your fault and shut down, and nothing ever gets resolved. Why are you so eager to take the blame for things? Is it that it’s better than admitting there are some things you can’t control, or is it just easier than actually talking about your feelings?”

The answer was yes on both counts, and he had been angry with her for putting it into words. He’d already known on some level, but he studiously avoided that sort of introspection. Now that it had been verbalized, the knowledge would always be there, floating around in his mind – yet another thing to overanalyze, to obsess over, to ambush him in moments of doubt.

Since then he’s gotten better at communicating in healthy ways, but the self-blame thing… well, Martin still had to periodically call him out on it, right up until the end. It became a common refrain: “It’s still victim blaming even if you’re the victim, Jon.” The reminder did help – at least some of the time – but it wasn’t enough to undo a worldview that he’d spent his entire life internalizing.

“Y-yes,” he says again, less sullenly now, “I – I see your point.”

“Good. So – evil book?”

“A Leitner, yes. The Web.” Jon has no desire to go into all the gruesome details, not when he’s – when they’re both already being suffocated by fear. “And I only escaped through… I don’t know, some combination of mundane human cruelty and luck – or… or someone else’s misfortune, more like.” He gives a tired sigh. “Or it could have been deliberate interference by the Web, taking someone else in my place because it had other plans for me. I’ll never know the exact reason why. If there even is a reason.”

He pauses, expecting the Beholding’s characteristic objection to the idea that he should accept not knowing anything, before remembering with grim satisfaction that the Eye can’t reach him here. Nor can the Web, for that matter. A small mercy, but he’ll take it.

“But the experience led to an obsession with the supernatural. I suppose I thought that if – if I could just understand it, I could conquer the fear. It didn’t work, but an obsession like that – it persists regardless of whether it’s successful or productive or – or healthy. Eventually it led me to the Institute. Which led me… here, ultimately.” He bites his lower lip as he considers his next words. “I’m sure many of my choices along the way were mine alone, and – and I’m responsible for my actions regardless. But that first domino… it was just a restless child ignoring gut instinct, all because he needed to know.”

“Jon,” Daisy says, the hint of a warning growl underlying her tone.

“I – okay, yes, I know, I know. Double standards.” He takes a shallow breath before continuing. “My point is, most of us are just… unlucky isn’t the right word, but it’s as close as I can get. Sometimes the Fears seem to seek out victims who are already uniquely susceptible to them – people with phobias, or specific traumas. Other times it seems… arbitrary. And sometimes it seems like the difference between an average victim and those who eventually become Avatars is… compatibility, or – or in some cases, a sense of kinship, even.

“I’ve always been too curious for my own good, a natural fit for the Beholding. Jane talked about being seen as toxic, and it was the Corruption that found her. Annabelle Cane said she was well-versed in manipulation as a young child, the sort of gift that the Web favors. Jared Hopworth always had a sadistic streak, but the difference between him and any other bully is that he found The Boneturner's Tale. I… don’t really know what to make of Jude Perry. The way she told it, she always had the disposition for the Desolation. She would likely have been a nightmare with or without supernatural help, but there are plenty of people like that in the world. She just happened to be one of the few who caught the attention of the Lightless Flame.

“But – but I also don’t think preexisting compatibility is a requirement to be an Avatar. Some people really do just – stumble into it, probably. Grow into it, maybe, after enough exposure. Especially if the same Power keeps coming back.”

Jon can’t help thinking of the Distortion and its tendency to dog its victims for years. Helen said once that she couldn’t just force her victims into her corridors, that they had to open the door on their own. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? Marcus MacKenzie refused to open the door every single time it appeared throughout his childhood and young adulthood. It started to take increasingly drastic measures: disguising itself as other things, at one point even opening up in the ground in front of him, hoping he wouldn’t notice until he already stepped over the ledge and gravity did its work. When that didn’t work, it took his father. And then, even after evading it for decades, Helen eventually took Marcus anyway. Choice didn’t come into it. It didn't matter how many times he walked away – it followed him wherever he went.

“Either way,” Jon continues, “whether it’s part of some grand plan or just happenstance, the Avatars… we catch the attention of something predatory, and it sinks its hooks into the vulnerabilities it finds. There are plenty of other people in the world who may have the same… flaws, or inclinations, or experiences, but most are lucky enough not to be drawn into this world. I’m not sure exactly what determines who is, but I don’t think it comes down to fairness, or deservedness, or – or some sort of cosmic punishment. I – I don’t think the universe works that way.

“And – and after we’ve been marked, maybe we can make choices along the way. But as far as I can tell, none of those choices ever lead to complete freedom from the Powers that lay claim to us. We’re still accountable for our actions; we can fight back, we can resist – but we’ll always be struggling against our natures. Sometimes it seems like there’s… there’s really no choice we can make where things actually turn out okay. Doesn’t mean we stop trying, or give up hope, but…” He pauses to gnaw on the inside of his cheek for a few seconds. “It can be hard to ignore the fear when it’s become such an intrinsic part of you, is all. When it makes its hunger your own, and hollows you out if you don’t feed it. It can make the concept of choice seem… empty.”

When he trails off, Daisy blows out a forceful exhale.

“That was… a lot.”

“Surprised the Buried let me get it all out,” Jon says, a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ve… had a lot of time alone to ruminate.”

“I think I can rela-”

Daisy’s words are cut short when all at once the earth crashes down around them with a vengeance, as if exacting payment for the courtesy of staying its hand for so long. An indeterminate amount of time passes, weight pressing down on them from all sides, leaving no room for breath or words or thought. Jon focuses on their hands, still linked tightly together, the only anchor to be found here in the dark.

Eventually, the walls begin to withdraw in tiny increments. The sinister, sibilant shifting of soil is a constant, unknown variable – it sounds the same whether the earth is compacting or moving away, and often there is no way to tell until it’s already too close and pressing down. Jon can feel his pulse hammering in his throat, can hear Daisy’s gasping breaths overlapping his own.

“I was gonna kill you,” she blurts out eventually, breathless and rushed. “You know that?”

“Yes.”

“I – I don’t just mean that day in the woods,” she clarifies. “Af-after the mission, I was planning on killing you.”

“I know. You – you realized I wasn’t human. That I needed to die.”

“H-how did you –”

“I’ve been here once before. And – and I should apologize for the dreams, I –”

“Jon –”

“I know it’s not an excuse, but I never meant to compel you that time – didn’t even realize at the time that that was something I could do, and –”

“Jon –”

“I didn’t realize then that the dreams were real, and – and when I finally did, I still didn’t have any control over them, but I –”

“Jon! Shut up a minute.”

His mouth snaps shut a little too quickly and he winces as he bites down on the tip of his tongue. The metallic taste of blood just barely registers on his tongue in the few seconds it takes for the cut to heal.

“Just – back up,” Daisy says, toning down the intensity this time. “That thing you said about… you’ve ‘been here once before’? What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s… a long story. And difficult to believe.”

“Well, it’s –” Daisy huffs. “It’s not like we don’t have the time?”

“I suppose,” Jon sighs. He’s already told this story to the tape recorder at length, but… the idea of telling it to another person, in his own words this time, feels both terrifying and cathartic at the same time. It’s just – difficult to talk about, no matter how many times he recaps it. “Where to begin… oh, I should probably preface this with ‘time travel is real.’”

Daisy sounds far too nonchalant when she says, “Okay.”

“O-okay? That’s… that’s it?”

“Sorry if it’s not the dramatic response you expected. Encounter enough – vampires, and people made of sawdust, and – and this, here, and… I don’t know that anything would surprise me anymore.”

“R-right,” Jon replies, still a bit incredulous. “Well, I’m – I’m from the future.” He pauses again, but she doesn’t interject. “And… and I came back to stop the apocalypse.”

His inflection pitches up into a near-question on the last word, certain that this will be the point at which Daisy calls bullshit. Instead, she just gives a dry chuckle.

“And how’s that going for you?”

“Well, uh, actually…” Jon’s laugh manages to sound slightly hysterical despite its brevity. “Being stuck here actually does – put it on hold indefinitely?”

“H-how’s that?”

“Because – because it can’t go forward without the Archivist.” He takes a shallow breath. “Just like the Stranger has the Unknowing, the Eye has its own Ritual. I was – I am a part of it. I – I didn’t want to, Elias – he orchestrated the whole thing, f-forced me to –” He nearly bites his tongue again when he cuts himself off. “But that – that doesn’t change anything,” he continues, almost viciously. “I’m the one who opened the door. It wouldn’t have happened if not for me, s-so it’s as good as my fault.”

“Don’t know about that,” Daisy says.

“What?”

“Don’t think I can see you making a choice to end the world, if you had any say. Doesn’t sound like you. You – Jon, you just went on about having choices taken away.” Jon is silent, teeth clenched; Daisy jostles his hand insistently. “So – so how’d it actually happen?”

“I, ah…” Why is this still so hard to talk about? “So you know how I – I… need the statements?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I – it – my appetite only got worse as time went on. Started craving live statements, and – and hunted for them. The others intervened eventually, and I stopped, but I still needed – need – statements, or else I’d… starve, for lack of a better word. So I made do with the old statements like before, but they were – less and less filling as time went on, and – and I needed more of them, and more frequently, even though I tried to – to spread them out, ration myself. And, uh, some things happened, and Martin and I went into hiding – used your safehouse, actually –”

“Which one?”

“Scotland.”

“Ah,” Daisy says softly. “I like that one.”

“So did we,” Jon says, smiling fondly. “I – we only had a couple weeks, before… b-but the time we did have, it was…”

He clears his throat.

“An-anyway, I went – hungry, for a bit, until a box of statements could be sent to us. And the first one I read, it was – a trap, by J- Elias.” He can explain about Jonah Magnus later. If he takes that detour now, he’ll never get through the rest of this. “The heading looked – just like any other statement. Statement giver’s name, date – but as soon as I started reading, it was Elias’ words. It was a, uh, statement about – about me. About what I am. I’m not just the Archivist, Daisy, I’m the Archive.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I – when I take or – or consume a statement, I, ah – experience it like I’m there, and it – it becomes a part of me. I’m like a – like a living record, a library of – of people’s worst fears, nightmares, moments that I have no right to witness, and – doesn’t matter. Elias needed a fully realized Archive for his ritual to work, so he – he created one, and he fed it a statement. And I – I tried to stop reading, but I couldn’t, even though I – I tried, I really did, I –” He laughs nervously. “Even tried to – to blind myself, but it just – healed. Then, at the end, there was an – an incantation. To open a door that could let all the Fears into the world. And when I read it… it did.”

“Wait – all of them?”

“Yes,” Jon says quietly. “Just before she died, Gertrude figured out that a ritual to bring one of the Fears into the world could never succeed on its own. The Powers can’t exist without minds to experience them, and our minds – they’re highly associative. The experience of fear is just… far more convoluted and subjective than any artificial taxonomy can capture. The Fears have overlap, and – and some of them are defined by their opposition to the others.

“A Vast ritual would collapse without the existence of the Buried, for instance. Or – the Stranger and the Spiral, they’re both tied to unreality, to not being able to trust your perceptions – which can feed into paranoia, which the Eye and the Web also thrive on. The Hunt and the Slaughter run together, and the Flesh can tag alongside. Both the Corruption and the Desolation are equally efficient and thorough in ravaging a home or a body or – or even the general concept of safety.

“Even here – we’re too far deep below creation for the Eye or the Hunt to reach us, but there’s still more than the Buried to fear. The Dark, for instance, or being Forsaken. Even the Vast can be found down here, if you start obsessing over your own insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe. The Powers are just – too interconnected, and their rituals never accounted for that.”

“So the Unknowing…”

“Would have failed even without our intervention,” Jon says bitterly. “Same goes for all of the rituals that Gertrude stopped, and all the others that have been sabotaged throughout the centuries. All of that sacrifice, and for nothing. Michael Shelley, and Jan Kilbride, and – and Tim, and you ending up here –”

“Tim?”

“He… he died during the mission,” Jon says quietly. He hears a sharp intake of breath from Daisy.

“And Basira?”

“Alive. She got out before the explosion.” He can just barely make out Daisy’s sigh of relief. “She… she told me to tell you that she’s waiting for you.”

“Oh,” Daisy says softly. “I’m s-”

Before she can say more, the Buried begins to writhe around them again, this time closing in molasses-slow. They both instinctively tighten their handhold on one another. As horrid as the crushing force is, this time it at least has the decency to press them closer together. Daisy’s free hand tentatively brushes against Jon’s free wrist. Understanding the unspoken request, Jon interlocks their fingers, and they wait.

“S-so,” Daisy wheezes when the earth finally relaxes and settles again, “about – about the rituals?”

“R-right.” Jon coughs lightly, still catching his breath. “Well, ah, Elias found out about Gertrude’s theory. Came up with a – ritual that would bring all the Powers through at once, but with the Eye ruling over the rest. It required an Archivist – Archive – directly marked by all the Powers. Elias – chose me. Made sure I’d encounter each of them, and… when I was ready, he laid one last trap and waited for me to wander in, because he knew from experience that I would.”

And it could happen again, Jon’s brain helpfully supplies.

“Huh.”

“Yeah. S-so it probably goes without saying, but if you thought I wasn’t human before, I, ah…” He gives an exhausted, humorless chuckle. “I’m definitely not now.”

Daisy is silent for a long moment before saying: “I take it you – you didn’t come here the first time.”

That wasn’t the comment that Jon had been expecting.

“No, I did.”

“Then… how –”

“I told you, there’s a way out. I just – I just have to find it. Last time I found you, and we escaped together. We can do it again.” She doesn’t respond to that, and he kneads the tops of her hands with his thumbs. “Daisy?”

“You’ve been here once before, and you escaped, and… and you came back?” She says it in such a small voice, it almost doesn’t even sound like her. “After – after seeing what it’s like, you still came back for me?”

“Yes…?”

“Why?” she whispers. “Why do that for me? I – I had a knife to your throat, I would’ve killed you if Basira hadn’t found us first, I saw the fear in your eyes and I enjoyed it – and you knew that I’d still planned on killing you the moment I got a chance, so – so why?”

“We’re –” Jon stops himself, rephrases. “In my future, we became friends.”

“What?”

“W-well, we – we were both Avatars trying to resist our darker natures. We went through this together. We just – we had a lot in common.”

Daisy offers no comment.

“I… don’t know what I would have done without you, honestly,” Jon continues, jiggling one foot nervously as best he can in the confined space. “You were… you were the only one I had, most days. The only one who knew what it was like, having the hunger consume you because you refuse to feed it. And – and you had Basira, but she… there were things she didn’t fully understand, couldn’t relate to. So you would come to me. We, uh… we helped each other. Trusted each other.” He adds, a bit timidly: “I… I’ve missed you.”

Still, Daisy says nothing. Jon is about to start rambling again – about what, he doesn’t know; he just needs to fill the awkward silence somehow – but Daisy speaks first.

“But – but what about before all that? Why did you come down here the first time around?”

“I was… in a bad place,” Jon admits. “Tim was dead, Sasha was dead, Melanie hated me, Basira saw me as a monster, Georgie wanted nothing to do with me, and Martin was… gone. I had no one, I wasn’t human anymore, I was afraid and ashamed and guilty and tired, and I… I was starting to doubt my decision to live. Not wanting to die had started to feel selfish, and I – I needed some way to justify living, some way to make myself useful.

“When we found out that you were alive, I – I just didn’t want to lose anyone else. If there was a chance of bringing you home, I had to try. And… there was nothing to lose. If I got stuck down here, it – it would be no great loss. The world would have even been safer for it – moreso than I even imagined at the time. I… honestly didn’t think that anyone would care if I didn’t come back.”

“That’s messed up,” Daisy says, a hint of wry amusement in her voice.

“Yeah,” Jon says with a self-deprecating laugh. “That’s what you said last time. Like I said, I was in a bad place. But – but in the end, we got out. I know I can get us out of here again. I promised Basira I would bring you home, and I – I – I will. I just… I need some time to find the way.”

“No pressure,” she deadpans.

Jon makes a strangled, exasperated noise in his throat.

“Seriously?”

If he could gesture at the tons of dirt pressing down on them, he would – but he can’t, because of the tons of dirt pressing down on them.

“Just trying to lighten the mood,” Daisy says, just the slightest hint of a self-satisfied smirk in her voice. Jon feels one corner of his mouth quirk in spite of himself.

God, he really had missed her.

The concept of time has no meaning within the Buried. Without any real way to observe or calculate its passing, things tend to feel stagnant. One long note of boredom and desperation and restriction. If not for the unpredictable tides of the soil around them, it might even feel as if time is at a standstill. In a way, it is: there is only one time here, and it is forever – or until the End of everything, at least. To make things worse, true sleep is impossible in the Buried. Sometimes, though, there is a lull in the movements of the earth, and within that liminal space, the mind may be allowed to drift.

Jon isn’t sure how long he’s been drifting when Daisy tugs on his hand.

“Jon.”

“Hm?”

“You’re muttering again.”

“Oh.” Jon clears his throat when he realizes how groggy he sounds. “Was I?”

“Care to share?”

“I’m just – I keep thinking about how Basira escaped the Unknowing,” he says, rousing himself. Out of habit, he tries to stretch, only to remember that he can barely move at all – which, of course, only intensifies the urge to fidget.

“Oh?” Daisy shakes both his hands in hers, prompting him to continue. Judging by the waver in her voice, the silence must be getting to her again. “How – how’s that?”

“She… thought her way out. Like a – an ‘I think therefore I am’ thought experiment.” Jon smiles to himself and shakes his head slightly. “She put Descartes to shame.”

“Not even a fair comparison,” Daisy scoffs.

“Agreed.”

“Were you thinking of trying that here?”

“I… don’t think it would work.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re not that level-headed.”

“That’s –” Jon’s indignation fizzles out just as quickly as it emerged. “That’s… okay, yes, that’s fair.”

Daisy snickers; Jon can’t help a small grin in return.

“But what I was actually trying to say is that it was a strategy uniquely tailored to the Stranger. The Unknowing was all about – unreality, about not being able to trust your senses, even your own identity. Basira figured out that the best way to anchor herself in that situation was to boil her entire reality down to simple logical premises: She existed. She existed in a place and time. The place was dangerous at that time, so she had to not exist in that place at that time. Places have ends, and if she kept moving, she could reach a different place.”

“Huh.”

“Straightforward. Elegant, even.”

“It’s Basira,” Daisy says, unmistakable fondness creeping into her tone. Jon snorts. “Shut up, Sims. You were saying?”

“The Buried doesn’t operate in the same way. Basira reasoned her way out of the Stranger’s domain by denying unreality. If we tried to do the same thing, we’d just be denying… well, reality. The earth, the pressure, the – the ‘too close I cannot breathe,’ it’s all real.”

“Good pep talk.”

“Sorry, that’s not what I –” Jon sighs. “I didn’t mean to sound… morose. I was just thinking about different kinds of anchors. Basira managed to center herself and use her own mind as an anchor, and I – I find that impressive, is all.”

“That’s one way to describe her,” Daisy says. “She’s… always been like that. Practical, reliable… centered.”

Wait, Jon thinks to himself, brow furrowed. What if…

“Daisy, tell me about Basira.”

“What?”

“I – she’s your anchor, right? And – and you’re hers.”

“I don’t know about –”

“She called you solid, a – a – a fixed point,” Jon says excitedly. “When you’re there, things make sense to her. You ground her. And now, without you, she’s… she has trouble knowing where she stands. She has no backup, no one to orient her. What she did during the Unknowing – it was impressive, but it isn’t sustainable over a long period of time. You can only go it alone for so long before you lose your bearings. She – she needs you. And you need her. Right?”

“She’s the fixed point,” Daisy murmurs, as if that explains everything – and maybe it does.

“Exactly, s-so – tell me about Basira. From your perspective.”

“Why?”

“Because this is the Buried, where we’re at the center and everything is weighing down on us,” Jon says, mind racing five steps ahead of him. “The dirt, the pressure, it’s all real, but – but the Fears are also about state of mind.”

Jon can feel his heart rate pick up, the way it does whenever he’s talking his way through a puzzle. If he could, he would be pacing right now, burning off that restless energy. Instead, he finds himself tapping his fingers rapidly against Daisy’s hands. She doesn’t stop him, though.

“I’m not saying that we can solve this with ‘mind over matter’ thinking, but it might – help, if we can both focus on an anchor – a different center point, that is, one outside of this place. Move from this center to that center. There’s a better chance of figuring out which way is up if we’re both feeling for the way out. We can orient each other. If we both feel a tug from the same direction, we know we’re going the right way.”

“I can’t feel anything, though,” Daisy says. “Or – I can, but it’s – it’s everywhere, pushing in one direction – pushing down –”

Jon grips her hands more tightly when he hears her breathing start to grow ragged.

“That’s why you need to tell me about Basira – until you do feel a pull. I could be way off, but it’s worth a try. And – and if nothing else, it might help clear my mind, so I can give finding the way out another shot.”

“A statement, then?” Daisy asks sardonically. “Recharge your battery?”

“I wish,” Jon says with a grim smile. “The Eye only likes horror stories. If any story would sate my appetite, I could just watch biopics any time I was feeling a bit peaky. Hell, imagine if a fictional story was enough. An episode of the Archers would be like an afternoon snack.”

“You like the Archers?” He doesn’t have to see her to know that her eyebrows are raised as high as they’ll go.

“You know, I said the exact same thing to you once. And no, I don’t, but you do, and you used to make me listen with you. We didn’t even make a dent in the back catalogue, but I’m an Avatar of terrible knowledge and the Beholding loves spoilers, so guess who Knows every episode now?” Daisy barks a laugh at that. “There are over nineteen thousand episodes, Daisy!”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“Anyway,” Jon says, squeezing both of her hands in lieu of nudging her shoulder, “a story just… helps take me out of my own head sometimes. Always has. You’re humoring me, not the Eye. Besides, do you have anything better to do?”

“S’pose not.”

“I mean – you don’t have to, of course, if you’re uncomfortable. I don’t want to pressure you –” Jon cringes. “Bad choice of words. I –”

“Stop babbling, Sims.” He knows that tone of voice, knows that she’s rolling her eyes right now. “We only have so long before the walls close in again –”

Daisy cuts herself off with a strangled noise, which she tries to cover by clearing her throat. She was likely trying to lighten the mood again, but the inevitability of the Buried’s ebb and flow is still too real, too close.

“Do you, uh… do you want to hear a story or not?”

“Please.”

“Back again?”

Martin jolts at the sound of Georgie’s voice. He tosses a brief glare over his shoulder at her where she stands just outside the doorway to the office, a safe distance from the Coffin. Martin discovered quickly that the Coffin’s compulsion has no impact on him, likely muffled by his allegiance to the Lonely. Georgie, though, has no such protection.

Coincidentally, it also means that as long as Martin keeps close to the Coffin, Georgie has to keep her distance from him as well.

“It’s been a week,” Martin says in a quiet monotone, tearing his gaze away from her.

“Yeah.”

“He should have been back by now.”

“Well, he didn’t really give a timeframe –”

“But you said he implied that it wouldn’t take more than a week,” Martin says impatiently. “And knowing Jon, he exaggerated how long it would take, just so no one would worry if he was late.”

“I… yeah, I know,” Georgie sighs. “I was expecting him to be back by now, too.”

Martin nods in a clear ‘I told you so’ gesture – then immediately feels childish. Why is he acting vindicated by her admission?

“Does Peter know you’ve been coming down here?”

“Don’t care.”

“Oh?” Georgie says, her voice suspiciously bland – and only then does Martin register the significance of what he just said.

“I just meant – it’s –” Martin huffs. “It’s none of your business.”

“Of course.” Martin can hear the smirk in her tone.

“Why are you here?” he snaps, swiveling to look at her again.

“Same reason you are, I expect.”

Martin says nothing to that, simply turns his back on her. For a few minutes, the only sound is the low, indistinct chatter of the tape recorders, still spooling out their horror stories on a loop.

“Have you tried calling to him?” Georgie asks. Martin continues to ignore her, teeth clenched until they ache. “It could be worth a shot. He left all those tapes running – don’t know if he can hear them exactly, but they’re meant to call to him.”

Go away, Martin thinks, his hands curling into fists on his knees.

“Your voice might be better than a recording.”

Why is she so persistent?

“Just – think about it, okay?”

When Martin doesn’t respond, Georgie sighs, knocks twice on the door frame, and takes her leave. He doesn’t look back around until the sound of her footsteps fade away.

“Sure, just leave the door wide open,” he grumbles irritably, rising to his feet to remedy the issue.

He pulls the office door shut with more force than intended, practically slamming it. The lone tape recorder on Jon’s desk, previously standing on end, topples over with a light clatter. Martin exhales heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to suppress the static buzz of nervous energy simmering inside him.

“But we need you, Jon,” the tape recorder grinds out. “Jon, please, just – please.”

“Fuck,” Martin says, voice thick and strained. He takes several deep breaths – in through his nose, out through his mouth – trying to clear his thoughts. Eventually, his shoulders slump and he sighs. “Fine. You win.”

He settles himself on the floor in front of the Coffin again, closer this time.

“Jon,” he says, then falters, unsure of what to say. “I –” He lets out an agitated breath, then follows it up with a bitter chuckle. “This is stupid. You probably can’t even hear this, can you?”

There is an uncomfortable, stinging pressure in his eyes and he reflexively tries to swallow back the tears, only to realize how dry his mouth has become. He rubs his eyes instead, digging the heels of his palms into the sockets and applying pressure.

“I – if you – if you can hear me, I… I already lost you once. I can’t do this all over again, I just – I can’t. I’m – everyone is waiting for you, and I still…” Martin sniffles and clears his throat. “Just – come home, Jon. Please.”

“I think I’d forgotten what it was like to just be… present in the moment? A – a quiet moment, anyway.” Daisy sighs. “On a hunt, you always have to think a few steps ahead, anticipate the prey’s movements so you can get out in front of it. Even when you’re present-thinking, like during a fight, it’s – it’s instinct and reflex, quick movements and jagged edges. You can never just… be.”

“I think I understand,” Jon says. “Not the Hunt aspect, but – but the intolerance of stillness.”

“But in that moment – laying back in the grass, Basira going on about the stars – I was… I was just me. I was focused on her – she gets so excited, so animated whenever she has a chance to talk about something new she’s learned, and I – I let her go on for” – Daisy laughs – “going on forty minutes, probably, about – about the Wow! signal before she looked over and saw me staring. Got all embarrassed that I let her talk so long.”

Jon can feel himself grinning.

“In her defense, the Wow! signal is a fascinating topic.”

“I thought so,” Daisy says warmly. “I mean, I must’ve, right? The whole time she was talking, I never felt the blood calling to me. Afterwards, it felt wrong, somehow – unnatural – that I’d been ignoring it. Not even resisting it, just – tuning it out altogether. I didn’t notice until then how loud it was – like for my whole life there had been teeth at my throat and I just never noticed until that moment.” She pauses. “It’s strange, but I – I think I liked it. The quiet.”

“I don’t think it’s strange at all,” Jon says softly. “I think –”

Suddenly, there’s a distinct wrenching sensation within him – like having a hook yank upwards, painless but abrupt enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

“Jon?” Daisy says warily. “What’s wrong?”

There’s something there.

“Do – do you feel that?”

“No? What – what is it?”

“It’s – wait, just let me…”

Jon concentrates, holding his breath as he waits, and –

There. Another pull, like a fish tugging at a line. And another, gentler but just as insistent.

“Daisy, I –” Jon lets out a breathless little laugh. “I think I know the way. C-come on, follow me.”

End Notes:

tbh I was tempted to split this into two chapters but it felt like it wanted to be all one thing, and also I didn't want to end on an angsty cliffhanger because:

I know I was managing a loose every-7-to-10-days-ish update schedule for awhile there, but it miiiight start looking more like an every-two-weeks schedule going forward. I've been on split shifts at work but we're supposedly going back full time soon, so that might effect how much writing time I have each day. Just wanted to give a heads up in case it takes longer than usual before the next chapter is ready.

There are several snippets of dialogue borrowed/reworked from Jon & Daisy's conversation in the Buried in MAG 132 - they're scattered throughout the chapter. (The "This is forever deep below creation..." and "One thing I've learned..." internal dialogue bits are from 132 also.) Probably goes without saying, but Martin's Lonely statement is from MAG 170 and there's also a previously cited usage of his dialogue from the S4 trailer. The Tim quote is from MAG 117. "The blanket never did anything" (still one of the creepiest lines in the podcast i s2g) is from MAG 086.

[of-another-broken-heart]

I’m just going to copy/paste this because it took me hours and I’m drained. 

I guess I have to format it again if I want it to show up at all... 

I couldn't even make it back home before breaking down crying again.

Driving while chronically sleep deprived, exhausted, fatigued, and dissociating is bad enough. Doing it with all that AND without being able to see? How special. 

I barely had time to sit down, my phone rang. I answered it, begging for someone to hear me. For thirty straight seconds. "Hello? Hello? Hello???" Finally someone spoke, but they couldn't hear me. I'm sobbing. They hung up. I scrambled to call back, from my computer, because at least then I'm not fighting a lack of reception as well as my anxiety. They called again. I didn't answer. I waited for my computer to ring through instead. I'm put on hold.  I'm sobbing. It was just to ask what my pharmacy is. Which I already answered on my paperwork. Which I answered, again, at check-out. And I was forced into a third confirmation via a pointless, needless, anxiety-attack inducing phone call hazing. For something I already answered. 

It's not fucking fun. People don't choose this. I didn't choose this. But does it matter? "Call," the command comes. "Just call." "Call to confirm." "Call to ask." "Call." "Call." "Call." 

I want you to think of something that takes physical hold of your body and brings to you to tears. I want you to hold that and sit with it until it does those things. I want you to choose to reduce yourself to a sobbing mess, struggling to breathe, alone. And I want you to picture a world where you are commanded, demanded, required to do this. For virtually everything. Imagine needing help - but you must first re-traumatize yourself with your most painful memories until your nose is running and your eyes burn from crying. And you're exhausted for the rest of the day, too. Maybe multiple days. Absolutely exhausted. So fucking depleted that taking yourself to the bathroom is almost impossible. Feeding yourself - even eating something out of a can, or microwaved - is a herculean effort. Does that sound fun? Of course not. 

As for the appointment itself: It's the same. Much better bedside manner. But it's the same underlying capitalism-serving "care" system. It's my fault. I'm not trying hard enough. I'm not blacking out alone on the side of the road enough. I haven't dissociated hard enough and/or blacked out while driving yet, so it can't be that bad, right? Not until I'm maimed or dead, right? Why address the root of a problem when we can just plaster on endless band-aids instead? When we can blame you for hurting, instead of the environment that's poisoning you? I'm not medically sedating myself into an obedient little wage slave, and that's the real problem. I should aspire to produce capital for someone with most of the remaining hours of my life. That's the purpose of living, that's the reason for "health"care - not to care about health, no, just to keep the wheels of capitalism well-oiled with wasted human life. Inherent human value? Quality of life? Nah. 

They refused my medical history. I brought the 72-page pdf on a flash drive. Because that's how I was given it. Because I can't afford to buy and operate a personal fax machine and/or print out a chapter book's worth of pages of medical records. I went through the trouble of getting the files, and it took over a month - only to be told "we can't take anything but paper or fax." I filled out a file release form as best I could. But I didn't have the phone number or address memorized. Not even before that place became synonymous with medical neglect and trauma for me. So now they're going to go through the ancient months-long ritual of requesting the self-fucking-same documents from LISH, either by mail or fax, because they "can't" access a flash drive or a pdf or use email. Welcome to 2021. We're back to "normal" and teleheath never existed and the internet is fake and technology is a myth and why do anything efficiently when you can waste time and do damage to people instead? My Aunt called to check in on me during her lunch break. (Thank you again) She offered to get the file printed and try to hand it in for me. I'm too tired to hope. I'm too exhausted to think they'll accept it without fuss. Anything and everything to make things harder.

Top priority order of business is the whole "diseased for life" thing. Hashimoto's thyroiditis. Hypothyroidism. Daily hormones for every day of the rest of forever, gatekept behind eternal doctor visits and prescriptions and pharmacies and copays and and and and did I mention this is forever? I've got a referral to have a thyroid sonogram done. Haven't ever had one of those before. Need to make that appointment. I was able to have my blood drawn for the thyroid testing without needing an additional appointment, which was a nice change of pace. Normally you're supposed to fast for that, but I wasn't expecting that could be done during the visit. Three years of having to make additional trips to the lab for blood work. I ate immediately before getting there, so hopefully nothing had a chance to metabolize and skew the results. Even though it was great not to have to juggle yet another appointment for health shit, it was stressful. The nurse took three tries before she had all the supplies she needed in the room. I already have anxiety spikes (which also raise my blood pressure and heart rate) for all doctor visits now. (White Coat Syndrome, I learned, it's called) I didn't need to have a rubber cable tied around my arm, popped off, tied again, popped off, and tied a third and final time to make it worse. A pro to that con: she was incredibly accurate and gentle. I normally have sub-dermal bleeding and some bruising after having blood drawn, and keep the bandage on for a day or two. The bandage didn't last even an hour after I got home - but there wasn't a single spot of trapped blood, and I almost couldn't even tell where she stuck me.

I have another new diagnosis to add to my growing collection. Hypertension. High blood pressure. I used to have slightly low blood pressure. It stunned the first doctor I ever saw (you know, because I'm fat, so that sort of thing is supposed to be ~impossible~) and it frustrated my last doctor at first, too. But now, with years of building stress and anxiety? It's almost like living with your most basic human needs barely provided (food, shelter, healthcare - let's not bring up social needs LMAO those don't count anyway, right?), and at constant risk of being taken away, for months (years, in some cases) on end, is some form of stress. It's almost like being constantly dismissed and told "you're just not trying hard enough" (WHILE TRYING YOUR BEST JUST TO SURVIVE EACH DAY) is some form of stress!It's almost like perpetual, ongoing, worsening stress has a negative impact on your heart! It's almost like there are decades of data that spell this out, plain as day!It's almost like I noticed my elevated heart rate back in NOVEMBER and mentioned it out of concern to my last doctor - who dismissed it outright because my reading in-office wasn't *that* bad, and also shouldn't I be on 5487 psych meds instead? If I was sedated out of my mind, I wouldn't be physically capable of feeling stress in my body despite the presence of real-world stress factors. That's healthy, right? Don't bother to solve the stressors, just neuter the body's response to them. Super healthy response. (Not) My GYN took note of my concern in December, when my vitals DID show as high in-office. Not that my GYN had the jurisdiction to do anything about it. I'm being put on another medication to try to mitigate this, and potentially also address some anxiety. I haven't picked it up yet. I don't know the name. I don't know if I'll be able to afford it. "Your copay is only a dollar!" Yes well, when you don't have a dollar, you can't afford a dollar, can you?

I was given a list of psychiatrists. To "Call!!"Precisely none of them are a reasonable distance away. Nearly half aren't even in my insurance network. Some explicitly exclude Medicaid. Others are exclusively for children. I was suggested a medication for depression and anxiety. I can't remember which one. Either Abilify or Lexapro? I declined it for now, either way. I wanted to be able to research it. Lexapro is just another SSRI and I already know those don't work for me. Adding a chemical bouncer to my brain to make sure the happy chemicals stay out to play doesn't help when there are no happy chemicals in the first place. A quick search for Abilify doesn't address anxiety at all so it was probably Lexapro. In which case, I am not interested in repeating a different-flavor-Prozac experience. It was not good. I didn't get any notes with that medication, regardless. I got a sticky note with "Valerian Root Extract (tea or tincture)" and "Magnesium Glycinate 2 capsules" scribbled on it, instead. Out-of-pocket home rem-maybes. I can't afford to experiment with snake oils, so mostly I'll probably just spend a bunch of time looking for data and research and studies for those substances, and that's it. If I get around to psychiatric care, I will have to start from scratch in my insurance's shoddy search tool, again. And, frankly, it's not a priority. My mental health struggles are the result of a lot of physical factors and external/social factors, and no amount of artificial chemicals bullying my brain is going to solve any of it. When your car starts leaking oil, you don't just commit to buying more oil forever and dribbling it all over, wherever you go. You fix the fucking leak. If your house has a gas leak, you don't invest in gas masks. You fix the fucking leak. If you end up with a burst pipe, you don't commit to wasting water and money and damaging your environment. You fix. The fucking. Leak. But in these comparisons, I'm getting prescribed oil and gas masks and infinite water damage/waste/bills as long-term care.

I mentioned my fatigue. It was the final straw that made me give up with the last doctor. It just keeps getting worse. It's been getting worse for over 3 years. And I'm so, so fucking tired of it getting pinned fully on the fact that I'm not on psych meds. I WAS on psych meds during part of those 3 years with my last doctor. And it didn't fucking make any difference! A daily chemical lobotomy does not address or restore my lack of physical energy. My decades-old medication-resistant insomnia has never vanished with psych meds before, and it's not likely to do it now. Especially not with yet another of the same family of chemicals that I already know don't work. I want my concern to be taken seriously. I don't want it just brushed into the mental health corner, again. Being too tired to even do the things you used to enjoy - no one fucking wants this! I don't want this! I miss being able to go for walks. I miss going to the gym. I miss seeing how much I could do, and feeling good, and feeling strong. And I can't do any of that now. Not without risking harming myself in the process. 

No one wants this. I keep talking, but it feels like no one listens. At the earliest opportunity, we're back to repeating the same tired old shit that doesn't work. I try to come prepared, and the stress and time and system make sure I fail to stand up for myself anyway. I didn't get to document my disordered eating history. The relapse this year. Restricting, sometimes to the point of not eating at all. I declined to be weighed, because I want my care to be based on relevant data, vitals, blood results - not the shape and size of my body. But I was too tired to realize I needed to dodge a verbal ask for the same information. Which, it turns out, is nearly as bad a trigger as having the scale spit it out for me. Being your own advocate for equal care, when you're already tapped out? I'm not winning that challenge. 

I'm frustrated. I'm not giving up, but I am frustrated and beyond tired. I don't really expect anyone to read this mess. But it's here.

[mbtiofwhys]

Futaba Sakura

INFP

Functional Order: Fi - Ne - Si - Te

Spoiler warning This article will cover Futaba’s analysis with references to both Persona 5 and Royal main plot and events from her confidant.

Premise We know that Futaba is considered INTP by the vast majority of the fandom, so in this article we’ll proceed a bit differently. First of all, we’ll discuss why in our opinion Futaba isn’t INTP and how to differentiate between cognitive patterns, behaviors, hobbies and traumas. We’ll also address the problem of consistent writing in a fictional work. The second part of the article will move past why we don’t think she’s INTP and instead will cover why we think the best suit for her is INFP. We’ll make sure to be meticulous in our work and we’ll provide source material if anyone wants to check type theory more in depth, so please stick with us until the end. Obviously, if someone wants to discuss this with us and has solid proofs towards INTP, we’ll gladly listen!

Futaba isn’t INTP

We browsed a broad number of discussions about Futaba on the net, because at first we thought that if INTP is what everyone agrees on, maybe there were reasons we weren’t seeing. But in reality, we couldn’t have been able to find a solid analysis of her character that arguments its point with functions and cognition - apparently, she tends to be considered INTP only based on the stereotype she conveys in the game: the quirky, nerdy hacker waifu who loves pc stuff and is socially inept. So, our first approach was: ok, regardless of the stereotypes, she might really be INTP. But what does INTP mean? INTP implies: dom Ti, aux Ne, tertiary Si and inferior Fe. The Ne/Si axis can be spotted pretty easily in the game, but we’ll address this more in-depth later. The problem has been the Ti/Fe axis. Dominant Ti means a person approaches reality through logical lens: they problem-solve, they analyse, they dissect everything reality provides them until they find a structure that makes sense for them. On the opposite side, there’s inferior Fe: the unconscious need for harmony, for being liked by others, the lowkey want of being of any help without precisely realising how. Looking at Futaba, in our opinion, there aren’t much signs of a Ti/Fe axis, neither in her normal state nor in stressful situation. Futaba can be snarky, she’s quick witted and a bit weird, but she isn’t strictly logical - and besides, it’s not that a love for hacking and witty comebacks are personality traits exclusive to high-Ti users. And speaking about her awkwardness, we think that there’s a key point that is often overlooked: in Futaba’s case, social ineptitude isn’t due to inferior Fe, it is due to a trauma. Futaba lost her mother in an accident, and that event affected her so much that she became a shut-in for a year - that’s not something one easily recovers from. We know from her confidant that she didn’t have any friends beside Kana when she was in school, but to be fair, this isn’t a vital thing to know when typing someone if we don’t know the details. All we’re told is that she was bullied/ignored for being quirky and surprisingly smart for a girl her age, but again, this isn’t a thing exclusive of dominant Ti. From a person who didn’t leave her room for such a long time, it’s to be expected that her social skills would be far below average, especially since she’s so young. What is interesting to look at, though, is how she dealt with her trauma, what has blocked her for so long and what moved her forward once she started recovering.

Futaba probably is INFP

We can’t say this with a 100% certainty because in her case, past the Pyramid arc, the writer(s) didn’t do a very great and comprehensive job of showing other sides of her personality that fall outside the “quirky, nerdy hacker waifu” stereotype, even in her confidant. Nonetheless, there are more than a few elements we deemed worth looking into more. First of all, there’s the time she spent as a shut-in. From what the game showed through scenes inside and outside her Palace, it’s safe to assume that Futaba suffers a severe Si-loop, with all the incapability of moving past a certain event that prevents one from looking out for other possibilities (healthy Ne) and instead brings one to close off the outside world. More specifically, we believe it’s a FiSi loop, more than a TiSi one: the difference lays in how the person revives said past events - do they over-analyse them? Or do they wallow in their own emotions? The problem Futaba had with the whole situation (and this is repeatedly pointed out by her shadow) it’s exactly that she developed a distorted vision of what happened, due to the fake suicide note and her own guilt, and she couldn’t think straight about the whole situation. But more than that, she didn’t even try to think about things logically - she went full on self-blame, seeing herself as the murderer who killed her mom with her tantrums and childish attitude. This is a delicate topic, because all her reactions are probably tied to survivor’s guilt as well, but the point is that she didn’t even try to rationalize her supposed fault, either. She simply lived with her feelings, judging herself as a horrible person who did something extremely wrong and, thus, has to die because this is what she deserves. So, yes, given how brooding and being very hard on oneself are two patterns that characterize high Fi, especially when hurt, we believe that a FiSi loop is what led Futaba to become a shut-in. Another very interesting thing to look at is what happened when an unexpected solution came up: the Phantom Thieves. Futaba finally reached for help, but she did so in a way that can easily remind of an inferior Te grip: she became controlling and contacted the group to blackmail them into helping her as a desperate measure to get out of the situation. But she acted hastily, with only the hint of a weak plan that in fact crumbled the moment a first obstacle came up - in order to proceed with the change of heart, she would have to show her face and expose her identity, a thing she absolutely didn’t account for, and thus she dismissed everyone and called it quits. The heavy imbalance in the dom/inferior axis gets progressively fixed over time: firstly, she reconnects with the outer world (aux Ne) and learns to appreciate again all the stimuli she can get from it. Secondly, she relearns how to behave with other people and how to live in the normal world (we’ll get to this later). And, lastly, she focuses on a goal again: finding the truth about what happened to her mother. As she admits herself, this is “a super personal reason to join the Phantom Thieves”, because it’s not tied to justice or changing society: she wants the truth and she wants the revenge, and joining the group it’s the first, most effective way to obtain what she’s after. This is how a balanced Fi/Te axis works: a personal goal to reach that is tied to one’s true self and feelings, towards which the person takes concrete steps in a (more or less) structured way. Furthermore, regarding her hacker’s skills: the love for computer and coding isn’t a trait bound to high Ti. The fact that many Ti users like it doesn’t mean that if someone like it, it must be a Ti user themselves. And looking at Futaba, she specifically founded Medjed as a way to bring justice (her justice) to the world, but discarded the name as soon as other people associated with it and started to use it for personal gain. She no longer recognized Medjed as something lined with her moral, and thus distanced herself from it and became Alibaba instead. This way of thinking is something more aligned with Fi than Ti.

Social ineptitude doesn’t mean inferior Fe

“Recall that Fe is about creating a positive social support system that opens one up to receiving love and expressing generosity. [...]Immature Ti doms often suffer from: stunted emotional development, lack of empathy or inability to understand people, antagonistic/antisocial behavior, misanthropy or cynicism, selfish or stingy mindset, very shallow or unhealthy relationships.” (via mbtinotes here on Tumblr) While we can see why all of this can be easily linked to Futaba, as we’ve stated above the fact that she doesn’t know how to deal with people comes from the time she spent as a shut-in after a traumatic experience, and it’s not tied to inferior Fe. Let’s focus on this topic: inferior Fe and how it may resemble social ineptitude and social anxiety. Futaba lived as a hikikomori for months, a self-imposed isolation where she only (and barely) interacted with Sojiro. There’s also another crucial factor to bare in mind: Futaba is still very young. As a teenager, she hasn’t developed a solid sense of self not because she has inferior Fe rather than dominant Fi, but simply because she still has to live her life, making mistakes and going through significant experiences to mold her identity. Saying that Futaba may resemble a Ti dom in her social interactions is true, what makes a difference, though, are the reasons behind those behaviors: Futaba finds difficult being in big crowds or talking to strangers not because she has an immature inferior Fe, but as a result of her past traumas and the absence of human interaction in her life for a year. As we remind often in our articles, we have two dogmas: to look at cognition rather than at behaviors, and to always remember how traumas aren’t related to one’s MBTI type. So, those behaviors are tied to her social anxiety and social ineptitude not because she has inferior Fe, but rather due to her traumas and a lack of social skills caused by her hikikomori life-style. We then need to look at how Futaba ‘normally’ behaves when she’s not stressed. She doesn’t speak unless the conversation interests her, she doesn’t like useless pleasantries, she often comes up with witty retorts or comments but never in an inappropriate way. We should have, let’s say, three main factors in her interactions if she really had inferior Fe: the awkwardness tied to the will to try that is met by a constant failure, the incapability of reading the mood despite the will of ‘being appropriate’ and the lowkey strive for being accepted.

In order:

Futaba doesn’t want to try, especially at first. She only tries when she’s invested. Her first, most genuine reaction when the group ask her questions or try to involve her in their conversation is to sit on protagonist’s bed facing a wall. Because, even if she’s grateful to these people, she doesn’t properly care for them - so, they’re not worth the effort of breaking old habits. When the effort is worth? When they start talking about something that she finds interesting, and when she grows a sort of affection towards them. So, when everything starts to feel personal;

Futaba isn’t interested in ‘being appropriate’. She hardly cares less, in fact. And all her snarky comments remark how she can be quite capable of placing them without resulting awkward or ruining the mood;

Futaba doesn’t want to fit in. We understand how it can be easy to think that she strives for acceptance, but in the end, this is simply not true. Futaba “marches to the beat of her own drum” and only because she feels safer with the group or empowered by their presence, this doesn’t mean she looks for acceptance in the way Fe does. On contrary, her whole ‘recovery week’ after Medjed’s defeat revolves around the search for balance: Futaba has to learn how to live in a functioning way, but at the same time the Thieves themselves must adjust to her personality. She has to grow, but she doesn’t have to change, and certainly she doesn’t want to smooth certain aspects of her personality only to please people.

In conclusion, her initial behaviors (wearing a mask in public, hiding behind protagonist, panicking in crowds) are all tied to a form of social phobia/anxiety rather than inferior Fe. 

The proofs of dominant Fi

If you want to say that there aren’t super strong evidences of dominant Fi in Futaba either in the story or her confidant, you have all the right to say so. Because it’s true. And, in our opinion, this is a case very similar to Ann’s extremely absent aux-Si: a problem that stems from writing and developing the character itself. We plan to talk more about P5 and writing in the future, but for now we’ll quickly address Futaba’s problem: as other members of the cast (especially female ones) she’s not given much opportunity to shine outside her stereotype. Her psyche and trauma are well addressed in her arc, and this is why we could gain sufficient elements to exclude TiSi loop and point towards FiSi loop. But the problem is that a character (and a person) isn’t only their traumas, and a personality cannot show only in circumstances of heavy stress. Unluckily, outside of her story arc, Futaba tends to stay in the domain of witty comebacks and nerd quotes/jokes - not that she ever gets OOC, but she doesn’t show a rounded and complete personality, either. One of the only things that stays constant throughout the story is her profound desire for truth and revenge for her mother: she joins the Phantom Thieves for that reason, she pushes through the Velvet Room confinement thanks to that, and she even mentions wanting to study cognitive psience in her future at the end of Royal. And all this is deeply tied to a personal aspect of herself and her life, namely the bond she had with her mother - this is why we think Fi dom suits her more than Ti dom, alongside with her not having inferior Fe. One could say it’s not much, but in cases like these, process of elimination also comes in hand: if she’s not INTP (which, in our opinion, she absolutely isn’t, despite having lot of stereotypical INTP traits), but still has aux Ne and tertiary Si and is an introvert (because all these three points are evident) the only other choice is INFP.

If you made it this far, thank you. We know ours is an unpopular opinion, but we hope we explained our reasons. If you still think she’s INTP and disagree with us, please let us know why, as we ourselves would like to know deeper reasons why people type her that way - and no, the fact that she’s nerd and is a hacker doesn’t count.

If you’re interested, these are the resources we’ve referred to in our analysis:

An entry from Funkymbti on loops: https://funkymbtifiction.tumblr.com/post/142527516660/can-you-describe-what-each-loop-looksacts-like

The part of Mbtinotes’ cognitive guide referring to inferior Te and Fe: https://mbti-notes.tumblr.com/theory#inftefe

Mbtinotes entries regarding spotting Fe vs Fi and Te vs Ti: https://mbti-notes.tumblr.com/post/137908467362/type-spotting-fe-v-fi https://mbti-notes.tumblr.com/post/142863816372/type-spotting-te-v-ti

[lligkv]

the smartest person who doesn’t do anything

Alison Rose, the daughter of a psychiatrist and a wealthy housewife, was hired as a receptionist at the New Yorker in her 40s—her first “real” job—and ended up writing “Talk of the Town” columns in the 1990s, striking friendships with writers like Renata Adler, Harold Brodkey, and George W. S. Trow along the way. Reading her memoir, Better than Sane, it’s clear it took Rose a long time to really achieve something, to grow beyond what she calls the “ancient feelings of freakishness” that her childhood left her with.

Her father is authoritarian and volatile. He mocks his patients and his family; he’s constantly on the verge of losing his temper with his wife and daughters. He calls them all scathing names. His wife and oldest daughter, Alison’s sister, are Babs I and Babs II, and Alison herself is Babs III, or “Personality Minus,” since she’s so quiet. Alison’s mother is glamorous and removed. She seems to treat Alison’s father as a fact of the world, one she can only accept, as she goes on to do what she likes—for instance, having children with him though he doesn’t really want them. She speaks up for her daughters sometimes, but the protests are fairly mild, in the way they might be when you’ve come to accept that the world is as it is, detaching yourself from it enough to remain sanguine.

Rose, as the product of a glamorous, abusive, inscrutable sort of childhood, is a master of the weird swerves that come from idiosyncrasy. Early in the book, she’s talking about her childhood friend “Squirrel.” “Before Squirrel’s arrival,” she tells us, “I had three mops as best friends.” “My first love, though,” she adds, “had been my pencil collection,” each member of which she names and comes to treasure. She loves the pencils because they are reliable, faithful, quiet: all the things she’s missing. And when her mother sharpens them—whether it’s by mistake or on purpose, Rose doesn’t say—it’s genuinely affecting:

Their faces were obliterated and unrecognizable. Some of them were a lot shorter, too. It was as if everyone I knew had a different head and face on a now stunted body. I couldn’t look at them anymore, all distorted like that, so I abandoned them. In the years that followed, I would see one of the pencils around the house, by a telephone, vaguely recognizable, but dead.

I came to like Alison for her humility along her halting path to some sort of accomplishment, some sort of wholeness. You could look down on her for looking up to so many famous writers, like Trow and Harold Brodkey, but her childhood left her so deeply pressed into timidity that her attachments to these magnetic figures she’s somehow become so close to is touching. Even Alison’s attachment to a youthful paramour, Billy the Fish, is touching.

Billy is Burt Lancaster’s son, whom Alison dates while she’s living in West Hollywood in the 70s, trying to become an actress. He’s a cool character, with his ironic attitude, his charisma, his “certain air of separateness”—Rose calls him “the Fish” because “it was as if he lived in its own element… [a fish] who came up for other people’s air, curious, but not very often”—and his boredom with the whole world at just twenty-two. “T’s to my E’s,” he says—short for Tears to my eyes—when he’s given a gift; “Cringe,” he says, aloud, when he feels like cringing; the people who love him, he seldom treats well. It would be easy to roll your eyes at him and wonder why Alison stays with him for seven years, on tenterhooks and speed much of the while, if her love for him weren’t so clear and so honest. “My heart liked him,” she says, simply. And the closest she ever got in life to what she calls “normal pie”—“this thing men and women get married about”—was with him.

“All of us,” Rose writes—the people who knew Billy in LA—“loved him, but he couldn’t feel it, I don’t think,” and she isn’t the type to blame him for that; she knows too well what not being able to feel love feels like. She forms deep attachments to charismatic people, the way you do when you’re raised to doubt yourself—and she’s not afraid to talk admiringly about the people who shaped her, those who challenge her notion from childhood that she’s “unsuited for human connection.” And I like that a hell of a lot more than the alternative: saying nothing or being shaped by no one.

What’s more, her self-doubt is belied by the wit she so often demonstrates. For instance, her retort to Brodkey as he calls lovingly out to her in the New Yorker’s hallway:

“My Bride,” Harold calls to me in the corridor.

“My Conscience,” I answer.

Or to Trow as he teases her when Brodkey isn’t around:

“Since Harold’s gone, why not throw a little attention my way?” George asked me that same week.

“I thought you might find it repellent,” I said.

“Not as long as you keep coming up with those snappy answers.”

In still another, more sober moment, Brodkey is trying to convince Alison to find someone other than George to bring to dinner with him and his wife. A real interest. “But Harold,” she says,

“I don’t have an appropriate suitor. You know that.”

“Not a suitor. No one likes you all that much.”

“Maybe that’s true,” I said.

Shit!

He tried to be comforting. “But nobody likes anybody all that much—it’s just moments, you know that.” After a pause, he added, “I’m the one who likes you that much, but if you get to know me better your life will be considerably shorter. Hang up now or I’ll start to cry.”

Seeing moment after moment of such quick wit from Rose, and pure honesty—such willingness to say what’s true and such refusal to sugarcoat—you see why Trow, Brodkey, and Penelope Gilliatt, another writer who often stops by Alison’s desk, like her so much. And why they seem to believe she has talent even when she does not. Anytime Rose says something Trow particularly understands, he tells her: “Darling: Write that down.”

The college-degreed writers in the office call the New Yorker “the magazine”; Alison, out of place as a Californian with no college education or work experience of any kind, calls it “School.” And the name is apt for deeper reasons than the one Alison gives, which is that she gets to write “notes to boys” like Brodkey and Trow. It’s an education. And it’s a second shot at a real life, with people who take pleasure in her mind.

“For nearly four decades,” Rose writes, she struggled with “enemy thinking”:

people deciding that the way I saw things was punishable by exile. Enemy-thinking people seem to have a ceaseless, brutal, active desire to punish; perhaps it made them feel superior and powerful. The writers at this School, who in their context were superior and powerful, were a divine present to me—their ease, which created a freedom from worrying about enemy thinking. The destruction it had done to me so far, like my conviction that I just plain didn’t belong in the world, was gone, or it felt like it.

The narrative rolls on. Alison, whose job performance is always a little erratic, is let go from her receptionist position; Trow—who tells her, in a memorable moment, that she cannot keep being “the smartest person who doesn’t do anything forever”—becomes determined to get her another place at School as a “Talk of the Town” writer; she gets the position and stays there for a while, until she leaves. Better than Sane is a force-of-personality book, and most of the things that happen in it go only elliptically explained.

But there is one narrative driver. The trauma that keeps Alison adrift can’t be gone until she confronts the people who instilled enemy thinking in her in the first place.

In the final chapters, Rose describes returning to her mother’s house in Atherton for her mother’s 90th birthday. Alison’s father drops out of the narrative after its first few chapters, but her mother has recurred throughout, often as a provoking presence in Alison’s life. And at the party, so close to her again, Alison’s character regresses. She becomes very clingy with her dog Puppy Jane, clutching Jane to her so she doesn’t have to be spoken to about anything but the dog. She behaves in alienating ways because she fears being alienated, on-the-outs with her mother and sister; better to fit their perception of her as the “crazy” one.

The crisis doesn’t resolve until Alison and her sister Belinda track down their old housekeeper Nita, now living in neighboring Richmond, to ask her about their childhood. In the conversation they have, Alison’s father returns and again comes to seem like the real enemy: “He was cruel,” Nita says firmly. “Very cruel.” “There was one person,” she tells Alison, “who wasn’t nice to you. Your father. He was real mean and your mother was so nice.”

Is what Nita says true? It’s hard to be sure. It’s certainly plausible, but Alison’s mother is a little too distant and arch for you to get a clear bead on her character, and as you hear her comment on the family’s drama, it’s clear Nita herself sees the family at some distance (which is healthy, for a housekeeper). But it is true that the person who terrifies you, as Alison’s father terrified her and her mother, is a force of nature. You don’t talk about him; you certainly don’t talk to him. Instead, you treat him as a fact of the world. You might harm yourself (or your children) as a result. Or you leave, and you push the person who terrifies you into the past. And usually the damage is still done. The anger that is permitted is the anger you feel toward the ones who are nice to you, at least sometimes, who seem as though they could be convinced and reasoned with and moved to act on your behalf yet refuse to respond to reason or persuasion or pleading or need. At the same time, terror of her father, and her mother’s seeming implacability, leave Alison timid, unable to express any of that anger or feel confidence in herself. So she wanders for years, not doing anything. And it takes Nita telling Alison, “Alis’, it was a crazy house. That’s all” for Alison to realize she can let it all go.

These final chapters—in which Alison, having finally accomplished something with her life, and having been recognized and loved by the writers at School, goes home and learns the truth, that it was her family that was crazy and not her, and is redeemed—do feel a little pat. But Better than Sane was published in 2004, and maybe that was before we all became cynical about the memoir form from seeing the familiar arc (a normal or painful childhood, an experience of crisis and failure, a fall to the depths, an opening to others, a redemption, a happy ending) play out so many times. Or maybe the end feels that much more predictable because the path Alison’s taken to get there has been so unpredictable.

The book did leave me wondering where Rose is now. Better than Sane is her only book. There are quite a few literary Alison Roses out there, but none seem to be her. There really is something “regal” about Rose, as Stacy Schiff put it in her New York Times review of the book—something deeply affecting about her honesty, the plainness of her feeling beneath the elliptical prose, the humility with which she presents herself. If she never writes again that I know of, it’d be a shame.

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 133: Dewey Wins

“But...I’m hurt.”

I started reviewing the Week of Sardonyx in late 2017. It was slow going thanks to grad school and student teaching and licensing tests and my job (boy do I not miss those days), but I’d clawed my way through Cry for Help in October and Keystone Motel on the first Sunday of November. In those reviews, I wrote at length about how this was the most devastating arc of the series, a massive argument spanning multiple episodes with no easy answers.

Then the Friday after my Keystone Motel post was uploaded, Cartoon Network dropped the Breakup Arc on us all at once, and I had to make some edits.

There’s no official name for the span of episodes between Dewey Wins and Kevin Party, but considering it features not one but two breakups, with only one reconciliation by the end, I think my nickname is apt. Just under a fifth of Season 5 is devoted to six consecutive episodes designed to make us miserable, and on top of being an outstanding sequel to the Week of Sardonyx, it’s the best precursor we’ve got to adolescent trials of Steven Universe Future. 

The Week of Sardonyx is strengthened by numerous previous episodes where Pearl does bad things without consequence, making it something of a shock when her actions are finally addressed. In a similar way, we’ve been taught from Log Date 7 15 2 and Kindergarten Kid and The New Crystal Gems that emotionally draining arcs are followed by cooldown episodes, and Dewey Wins sounds like the name of a fun adventure with our goofy mayor. There’s no situation where the Breakup Arc would be a pleasant affair, but the pattern adds an extra layer of angst as our anticipated relief period ends up more stressful than the arc we needed relief from.

But not every big arc gets a cooldown. Our very first, ending with Jailbreak, is followed by one of the Breakup Arc’s major prequels: Full Disclosure, an episode about missed phone calls and the importance of keeping friends in the loop regarding space adventures. The ghosted party is flipped, as Connie now refuses to talk to Steven, and watching his struggle gives an even greater appreciation for Connie’s own turmoil (not just from Full Disclosure, but Steven’s reckless self-sacrifice).

We know something’s wrong from the moment we see her, in a way that’s different from Greg and the Gems’ wide-eyed concern. Her discomfort manifests just as it did in Mindful Education: a downcast expression and curt demeanor made more apparent by Steven’s cheery chattiness. But because she’s the only one of them that has truly taken the lessons of that episode to heart, she soon expresses her feelings outright (after a brutal “Of course I’m happy to see you”—Grace Rolek only needs one scene to be the episode’s MVP). Her complaints are all valid: this is not the first time she’s been left on Earth, and her sense that Steven isn’t taking her seriously is confirmed when he can’t even take her seriously within the conversation. She’s as direct as she can be, but when Steven refuses to acknowledge her pain, her anger takes over and she shuts him out. Lion’s side-eye is icing on the cake.

My biggest issue with Dewey Wins, however, is Steven. I’m torn, because it’s easy to justify his behavior throughout the episode as a result of recent trauma and the relief at surviving such a harrowing experience (and, later, the same sleeplessness that made him snap in Rose’s Room and Warp Tour). It makes sense that his martyr complex is intensified by his experience with Lars, that he falls back on helping others at the cost of his own well-being on instinct. But his flippant dismissal of Connie’s emotions still feels off, especially because it comes with a heretofore unseen swagger about his own heroism. She pours her heart out, making it clear that she wants to keep being Jam Buds but he’s making it really difficult, but every word goes right over his head. This is a version of Steven that somehow doesn’t get that “hurt” can refer to emotions instead of physical damage.

Throughout the episode, but particularly in this opening scene, Steven feels exaggerated for the sake of honing Connie’s argument. Perhaps it’s necessary, considering how easy it is in first viewing to see his sacrifice as noble rather than selfish; we need to see a more extreme version of his behavior to understand that going it alone was a bad move, or else Connie’s arguments seem small against the scale of the stakes. It’s further complicated by the fact that Steven’s sacrifice was noble, even if it was selfish at the same time. This isn’t a case where Steven is fully right or fully wrong, so it’s bound to be confusing to hear that his traditionally heroic move wasn’t as great as he (or we) first thought.

So yeah, I get why Steven is acting this way for the sake of the show. And, again, I can find reasons to explain his sudden emotional idiocy, making it leagues better than a true Annoying Steven episode. But it still comes across as clumsy to me; I can see the wheels turning to move the plot along in a way that’s normally hidden better on this show. His final monologue where he realizes that Connie felt the way he feels about Dewey abandoning the race feels like something from another show, a show that’s way more on-the-nose than Steven Universe is at its best. It was probably the right move, because as much as I can’t stand it when media is patronizing to young audiences, this lesson is complex enough that it’s worth a little clunkiness to ensure that the message gets through to smaller viewers. But compared to the elegance of our recent space adventure, Dewey Wins sacrifices polish for clarity when we usually get both.

But enough about what doesn’t work for me, because so much of this episode works for me. Even if his behavior feels forced, Steven provides seamless in-universe exposition recapping his space adventure. His follow-up conversation with Sadie has the same kind of douchey detachment that he shows Connie, but in a way that’s far more consistent with his character: dismissing Connie’s emotions is out of left field for him, but it makes plenty of sense that he’d see Lars as “okay” despite being trapped in space, considering the alternative was a very real death. And, of course, there’s the matter of the episode’s actual hero.

Nanefua Pizza has been my everything since Beach Party, and it’s thrilling to see her gain more prominence in the tail end of the series. Her beef with Mayor Dewey has been running since Political Power, the Dewey episode that established all the flaws that drive him out of office in Dewey Wins. Then, she responded by rallying rioters to tip over his truck, but now she takes a more civic-minded approach to effect real change. Still, she’s driven by the same anger at Dewey, and can only become a true force for good when she gains a new appreciation for his struggles.

While the correlation between Dewey and Steven is obvious well before Steven straight-up says there’s a correlation (a moment that’s made easier to swallow when Dewey points out he has no context for Steven’s friend troubles), the general conflict between Nanefua and Bill(iam) is a more fascinating study on blame. At first, both candidates believe in the power of blame, with Nanefua laying all the city’s troubles on Dewey’s inaction and Dewey arguing that taking the heat is his greatest strength: in his mind, there’s not much he can actually do about the cosmic misfortunes that befall Beach City, but giving its citizens somebody to blame gives them a sense of control that’s necessary in a chaotic world. And both of these viewpoints can be found in Steven’s self-image.

Steven, like Nanefua, is quick to lay blame when anything goes wrong. But Steven, like Dewey, sees the absorption of blame as a virtue. So he loops between those two positions, looking for someone to blame at the drop of a hat and only finding himself. The ensuing guilt make him want to fix the problems of others to atone, rather than focus on the underlying cause of his own issues, and if that sounds familiar it’s because Steven Universe Future is entirely about how important it is to break this loop.

But obsessing over fixing things is also how Pearl tries to solve her argument with Garnet in the Week of Sardonyx: she focuses on finding Peridot instead of doing anything about her own actions until she has no choice but to talk things out. And, as I said back in my Friend Ship post, it evokes something Pearl once said about humans (which it turns out applies to Gems): 

“They want to blame all the world's problems on some single enemy they can fight, instead of a complex network of interrelated forces beyond anyone's control.”

When was this said? In Keep Beach City Weird, in regards to Ronaldo. The same Ronaldo who poured gas on the fire in Full Disclosure by presenting the idea that heroes are aloof and keep their friends at a distance. So in a way, the Breakup Arc can be chalked up to ignoring the good Ronaldo lesson but taking the bad Ronaldo lesson to heart. But more on him in Gemcation.

Steven’s turmoil lends a somber edge to Nanefua’s powerful change of heart, where she rejects her past choice to blame Dewey. She apologizes for her own part in pointing fingers, because blame is a lousy substitute for getting things done, and forgives him for not being perfect. She pitches the act of helping as a community effort, rather than something that any one person must do alone; she remembers that the lyrics are “we can be strong in the real way.” She’s giving Steven all of the answers well before Steven Universe Future shows how much his guilt loop will continue to plague him, but he isn’t ready to listen yet, and leaves the debate dejected instead of empowered. (Considering Jenny’s appeal to taking breaks during trying times in Joy Ride, and an adventure with Kiki about not spreading yourself too thin on behalf of others in Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service, this is the third time a Pizza woman’s fantastic advice has gone ignored by our hero.)

Even Dewey seems better off than Steven, accepting defeat by acknowledging that Nanefua would make a better mayor. And he’s right! She sets up actual services to account for alien threats, services that end up changing the universe in a way Dewey’s brand of keeping the peace never could. He may need a new job (Sadie foreshadows both his fate and her own imminent career change in one fell swoop), but there’s a sense of calm as he passes the torch after a full episode of Joel Hodgson’s hammy anxiety.

I appreciate that Dewey is allowed some points in his favor even as he flubs his way out of office. Yes, he should be more thoughtful and attentive: his vow to find a new donut shop kid when presented with news that Lars is trapped in space is even broader than Steven’s reaction to Connie’s pain, but the mayor has always ridiculous so I don’t mind at all. Yes, he should try and do something to address the concerns of his citizens beyond saying everything will be fine. But it’s not lost on the show that it isn’t easy running a town that’s a lightning rod for alien encounters, so Dewey remains sympathetic even if his ineptitude must be addressed. After all, if he’s gonna stand in for Steven in a metaphor that’s clear enough to be monologued about, it’s important to point out that it’s okay when you fail against impossible odds. Neither Dewey nor Steven can do everything on their own, no matter how much power they wield.

Steven might skip a few crucial lessons of Dewey Wins, but he at least learns one. Perhaps in an earlier season, that would be enough to mend fences with Connie. But time makes you bolder, children get older, and she’s getting older too. She’s been more than patient with being treated like an afterthought, so the moment she’s had enough is bound to be a big one. Thus, we end with a cliffhanger, one that pulls Steven into the same landslide that’s surely consuming the rest of the town after his kidnapping. The Barrigas are missing a son, and Sadie’s missing a romantic friend. Bill Dewey is no longer Mayor Dewey, and Nanefua has a whole new set of obstacles to face. Greg and the Gems have their son back, but his kidnapping was traumatic for them as well, and Connie gets that trauma on top of her stated complaints. And Steven had learned two lessons instead of one: it’s important to take your friends seriously, and timing is everything.

It’s gonna be a rough week.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

I do like it, really. But Steven’s behavior takes it down a few notches, regardless of my ability to find ways to explain it. Great episodes don’t require the audience to seek ways to justify a character’s weird behavior. There’s more good than bad here, but I’d be lying if I said I loved Dewey Wins.

Top Twenty-Five

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

When It Rains

The Good Lars

Lars’s Head

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Doug Out

Are You My Dad?

I Am My Mom

Stuck Together

The Trial

Off Colors

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Dewey Wins

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

(No official promo art for most of the Breakup Arc, given the way they were released, but I can’t be too mad when we get brilliance like this from ajora.)

[tibby]

Can you speak more on Steve Harrington's trauma? I've never seen anyone address it, seemingly dismissing his character as just a "dumb mom friend" or whatever...

sure! i’ll stick to the show with this, because even though i have a lot of thoughts wrt steve and his life and why he acts the way he does, it’s all personal interpretation and not actual canon (though would happily discuss those more anytime.)

before i get into any specifics with regards to what steve has been through during the show, i do want to discuss a little about what we can assume of his relationships pre-nancy, and pre-everything: 

canon doesn’t give us a lot to work with in regards to steve’s parents, but based on what we do know, it doesn’t seem good. we can assume that they’re somewhat neglectful and have an unhappy marriage, presumably featuring adultery. he only refers to his father as an asshole or a douchebag and seems reluctant to follow in his footsteps. it seems like he has a slightly better relationship with his mother, but we also don’t know much about her outside of her following his father on business trips because she doesn’t trust him. regardless of how people personally interpret how bad it is, at the very least, he seems lonely and uncomfortable with his family.

up until the final two episodes of season one, we know that steve is king of the school and uses this power to his advantage. but despite his clout, he doesn’t seem to have any actual friends outside of tommy h and carol (and nicole, i guess, but she appears in like three scenes and we don’t really know much about her.) and tommy and carol aren’t good people. it’s not just that they’re horrendous bullies to jonathan and nancy, but they’re not great to steve either, given how quickly tommy turns on him. how quickly he threatens him, and how scared steve is in that moment. and given that tommy participates in mocking steve with billy a year later, it clearly was never that healthy of a friendship. your only friendships being with toxic people who don’t care about you as a person is always going to be damaging, regardless of how “popular” you are.

(steve’s unpleasant family/friendships pre-nancy seem backed up by a quote from the duffers that i can’t read because it’s behind a paywall but is referenced in the wiki: “what kind of family life [Steve] comes from and maybe this girl Nancy is quiet and listens in a way that other people haven’t listened to him at this point.”)

which brings us to the show. steve finds someone, maybe the first person who’s ever really cared about him, the girl he really likes. and he’s protective of her and wants to be with her and ends up fucking up in the process (i maintain that steve had every reason to go after jonathan for the photos, but he was absolutely in the wrong for the slutshaming and the alleyway fight.) 

but the fight shifts something in him, makes him want to right his wrongs, so he finally dumps his toxic friends (one of whom physically threatens him in the process) and goes to apologise. and walks right into a monster trap.

steve gets no context as to what’s happening when the demogorgon shows up, doesn’t get any explanation from jonathan and nancy (not that they’re at fault for that, given the circumstances,) and is basically just confronted with the sudden knowledge that monsters are real. and he ends up saving nancy and jonathan from it.

in an ideal world, the trio would have helped each over with their trauma together and would’ve been friends and would’ve had more natural progressions of their relationships. i don’t like reducing nancy and jonathan’s traumas to Just the monster thing, but it’s how the show tends to handle it, and i really feel like steve’s own trauma with what happened that night should have been addressed even slightly, particularly in relation to the two of them.

(quick sidenote: my issue with the way the show handles jonathan/nancy and their “shared trauma” is a whole other thing, but i really don’t understand how the show can basically reduce it to the fact they fought a monster together, and then leave steve out of the equation entirely. i wouldn’t have an issue if the show actually looked into the trauma both jonathan and nancy have outside of the monster stuff, but since it refuses to develop that, it…bothers me that steve’s role in what happened and resulting trauma is shoved aside, and they both now just ignore his existence entirely.)

but the show didn’t do that, so let’s get into season two, and steve harrington’s very rough week:

gets dumped! it should be noted that i don’t blame nancy for the breakup, nor do i think she was a bad person who set out to harm him. she’s a confused seventeen year old girl dealing with the loss of her best friend, and i don’t think she deliberately led steve on for a year or knowingly lied to him about her feelings. but it’s still going to be hurtful when your significant other reveals that they didn’t love you, they only thought they did. and steve loved nancy, cared about her, took comfort in her - she was the first person to listen to him, to care about him, to like him for who he really was, not for the mask he put on. i wish they’d gotten a proper conversation about their relationship in either season two or three, particularly as the destruction of the high school fairytale (the relationship between the coolest guy in school and the girl next door) is an important element to both their characters. i know steve says that he’s over her in season three, but i still know that that’s an incredibly heartbreaking thing to go through, even if it wasn’t a relationship based on an illusion - the kids that they were before.

gets involved with more monster hunting stuff, this time with a bunch of bratty middle schoolers! overall, i think stranger things handles the collective trauma the entire gang have like…terribly. i find it weird that it’s been three seasons and the only time the party/the teens/jopper are ALL together is in the final two episodes when it’s Boss Battle time. and i know i shouldn’t expect much from a show which barely lets separate people handle their trauma, but i feel like…maybe they should all like, sit and talk and comfort each other? keep an eye on each other? i don’t know. i think the trauma steve has is trauma he would share with all the others, especially since season two properly involves him with all the monster stuff (plus fighting them is hard enough without also having to deal with his past experiences, a big head injury, and the lives of a bunch of thirteen year olds in his hands.)

gets beat up! again! this time it’s not deserved! i really don’t understand why the fandom acts like steve’s repeated injuries each season are a joke and not like…a genuine cause for medical concern within the universe. i get that it’s basically played for laughs in the show and this incident in particular is used to once again highlight how violent billy is. i don’t have much to elaborate on here but i feel like someone needs to check in on steve and all the head related trauma he’s suffered through in the past eighteen months.

and after all of that, steve is just…left on his own to deal with it. he gave up his friends for nancy, and they weren’t particularly good friends in the first place. nancy left him. he and jonathan don’t ever talk. all he has are the kids and it’s not as if he can really talk about his trauma with a bunch of fourteen year olds. out of all the main cast, he’s the one that has the least support when it comes to this. nancy and jonathan have each other. joyce and hopper have each other. the party has each other. the byers family has each other. el and hopper have each other. but steve doesn’t have the same support system, and there’s nothing to suggest in canon that he actually interacts with the other teens/adults.

steve’s left alone in general, really. he maintained somewhat of his social status following the events of st1/st2, since he mentions being prom king to robin, but does he really…have any friends his age? he lost tommy and carol when he chose nancy, and those two latched onto billy (who, again, is someone who hurt steve and who steve does not like.) he and nancy broke up, and considering he shared about ten words with her and jonathan in st3, it’s safe to assume he’s not really friendly with them. and we don’t ever see any acknowledgment that steve has friends his age, even if it’s just…normal people who don’t know about the monster stuff.

it’s not until he meets robin that he really finds someone he can talk about any of this with, and even then it just comes with more trauma. i feel like steve’s experiences tend to get played for laughs and i really got that vibe in season 3. steve was tortured and drugged. he took another beating, arguably his roughest one yet. he and robin both thought they were going to die down there. it’s not really handled at all within the show, but it’s a lot for someone to go through, especially when combined with the past year and a half of steve’s life.

anyway. i don’t think the show will ever actually address steve’s trauma (or anyone’s, really) which is sad because like the others, he’s been through a lot and i think some acknowledgement/discussion of it would further help his character development. but i guess that just isn’t as funny as writing him off as an idiot and a loser.

[scribbles97]

Left Behind - Chapter 8

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13

Read On Ao3

Val stood as she saw Lucy approaching, unfolding her arms as she reached out to her friend. As part of their basic training for IR full EMT training was a key module. It wasn’t often that Val had to use the knowledge but when she did it never failed to scare her that it was all that could stand between life and death. 

When it was someone within their immediate circle, it scared her even more. 

“Hugh and Sylvia are on their way.” She murmured as Lucy pulled back from her, “Penelope rang her father as soon as we had them.”

She didn’t blame the young woman, seeing two close friends stabbed was enough to make anyone want the familiarity of their father.

Lucy nodded, glancing around the hospital hallway, “Where are they?”

“Both Tanusha and Kyrano are in surgery. Penny is in the bathroom getting washed and I imagine calming herself down.” 

The young blonde had been the face of composure when she had arrived, but Val knew the girl well, had spent christmases and birthdays and summer holidays with her for plenty of years. She knew when the composure was simply a mask though, could see the cracks running underneath the facade that perhaps only a few others would. 

“She took it hard?” Lucy frowned, “This won’t have been their fault.”

“I doubt it,” Val agreed quietly, “She’ll just be frustrated, I don’t think they’ve had a mission yet turn quite so sour.”

Lucy nodded in understanding, her face twisting as she blinked hard, “I told her I thought Kyrano was going to do something dangerous.”

Val wanted to ask Lucy what the hell she was thinking. Kyrano was an experienced man in his field. Kayo and Penelope barely had ten years of real experience between them. Not that she didn’t see the other woman’s point. Both knew what had happened after the death of Kayo’s mother, both could imagine how far Kyrano would go to protect his daughter and those he held dear. 

Even if it meant losing them in the process. 

“We can’t let him slip back to where he was after Onaha died,” She murmured softly, “We’d lose him for good this time.”

Lucy pursed her lips, “He blames himself because of the tie to Gaat. It was him that did this, to his own brother Val. What would he do to Tanusha if he got near her?”

Resting her hands on her shoulders, Val looked Lucy in the eye, “We won’t let that happen. I’ll make sure of it.”

Lucy ran her hand though her hair as she glanced around the space again with a sigh, “I need to sort security, get a team in here.”

“Already sorted it sis,” Lee’s voice called from behind Val, “Got his best people flying in from New York tonight. They’ll be here in a matter of hours.”

“Best team?” Val raised an eyebrow as she turned to him, glancing to Penelope at his side, “Who’d you figure that was then?”

Penelope shrugged as she looked between them, “Kyrano is like family, he’d only let his top people escort any of you, Tia, Jude and Pedro.”

She had to admit she probably wasn’t wrong. The trio were usually assigned to the boys when required, it only made sense that they would be the best to protect Kyrano and his daughter. 

“Thanks Lee, Penny,” Lucy smiled briefly towards them, eyes tired as she glanced to Val, “You two should get back. The boys are flying out later so we’ll be crowded enough then.”

Val raised an eyebrow, unconvinced that that was the real issue going on. 

“Lee fly home, I’ll follow on once the boys are here.”

“Val--” Lucy went to protest, only to be cut off by her brother.

“I’m with Val here Luce, Hugh’s going to have some choice words when he gets here, I think you’ll need all the back up you can get.”

It wasn’t the reason Val had been thinking of, she was more concerned about what Kyrano was going to say about being tailed by his own daughter. Lucy was under stress as it was, trying to find her new normal with the boys. She worried that knowing it was her suggestion for Kayo to follow her father could be the final straw. 

“Are you waiting for Ms and Mister Kyrano?” An older woman in dark green scrubs approached them.

Val turned and nodded, gesturing to Lucy, “This is Ms Kyrano’s godmother.”

Stepping back she watched as Lucy shook the doctors hand. Lee quietly stepped up next to her nodding towards the exit, making his intention to slip away clear. She nodded, only half paying attention to him as she listened to the doctors update. 

Something in her chest loosened as the doctor confirmed both were stable, that Kayo was recovering from her surgery and would be free for visitors soon. 

“I’m afraid I can’t say more about Kyrano’s condition as I have not attended to him myself. I have been assured though that you will receive an update as soon as he is in recovery.”

The comment put her less at ease, for all they said he was stable, it seemed hard to believe until he was out of surgery. Val knew all too well what could go wrong behind the closed doors of an operating theatre. Perhaps it was simply being in the hallway of a trauma ward that had her quite so on edge. 

“So we can see Tanusha now?” Lucy asked, “Is she awake?”

The doctor turned, gesturing down the hallway, “Right this way.”

Val didn’t hesitate in following Lucy to the quiet side room, secluded, private, everything that the security specialist would approve of.

Kayo was sat up in the bed, pale, and clearly not quite with it as her eyes rested half shut and her head leant back into the pillows. 

“Hey,” Lucy murmured, “How’re you doing Tan?”

Val paused in the doorway, hand resting on Penelope’s shoulder to stop her from rushing forward as Kayo looked to Lucy. She looked down to the younger woman, eyebrow raised, “You okay Pen?”

She nodded, lips pursed as she sighed, “Yeah. Just… I don’t know.”

Squeezing her shoulder, Val nodded silently, “First time it’s come this close for you?”

The young woman nodded again, her voice barely a whisper as she nodded, “Yeah.”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders Val swallowed, remembering well the feeling of coming quite so close to losing someone on a mission. 

“Pen?” Kayo whispered, “You ‘kay?”

Val released the shoulder she had been holding, letting Penny step forward into the room to take Kayo’s hand.

“Have you seen yourself in the last hour?” Penny teased as Val followed her further into the room. 

Kayo snorted, her lips curling up briefly, “Tis but a flesh wound M’lady.”

“Don’t belittle it Kay,” Val shook her head, “Wear your scars with pride.”

She ignored Lucy’s snort from where she sat by Kayo’s head, knowing exactly what it meant. 

The saying had come from her after all. 

“Is Dad…” She sighed, eyes darting around the room, landing back on Lucy. 

“He’s still in surgery Tan,” Lucy murmured, “They’ll let us know once he’s out.”

Green eyes jumped to Penelope, Kayo licked her lips as she swallowed, nodding slightly towards Lucy as she watched the blonde. She knew the gesture, had used it in one of her and Lucy’s many private conversations. 

“Tell them,” She whispered, still watching Penny.

There was a hesitation in Penny’s eyes as she held Kay’s gaze and Val wondered just what had gone on before she had arrived on the scene with Lee. 

“It was a set up for Kyrano.” Penny murmured, “We watched him walk right into it and let it happen, like he wasn’t expecting it. If we hadn't been there to follow…” She trailed off, letting the possibilities of what could have happened hang in the air. 

“Tried to kill him,” Kayo breathed, “So we intercepted.”

Penny looked between them, china blue eyes wide and young, “We think he had a plan, and perhaps we got in the way.”

Lucy was quick to shake her head before Val could speak, “Regardless, you saved his life. That’s worth more than any plan right now.”

Kayo sniffed as she shook her head, “He’s going to be mad at me.”

Val frowned, stepping forward to touch Kay’s leg, “What makes you think that?”

Her eyes were watering as she looked to her, lips pursed tightly as she shook her head again, clearly trying to blink away the tears that had formed. A glance to Lucy confirmed that she also hadn’t expected tears from the young woman, anger at herself was more Kayo’s thing. Val wasn’t sure she had seen her cry since her mother’s death, even then it had been brief and behind closed doors. 

“I screwed up.” She whispered, eyes distant, “He taught me everything I know, and I still screwed it all up.”

A glance to the array of instruments at her side, confirmed what Val had suspected. Kayo would never make the admission that she screwed up outloud, but it seemed that the drugs in her system had lowered her defences. 

“Kay,” Penny protested softly, “You did everything by the book, and then more. I was there, I saw everything. You didn’t screw up.”

Lucy was standing over her, one hand reaching up to brush through Kayo’s dark hair, eyes watching her carefully.

“You’re tired Tan,” She murmured, “It’s been a crazy day. Why don’t you go to sleep and I’ll wake you up when your Dad’s out of theatre?”

Everything on Kayo’s face was screwed up, trying to hide the emotion she had let slip even as she nodded quickly. 

“You go to sleep.” Lucy repeated softly, “It’s alright now.”

A few more moments of quiet murmurings and stroking her hair was enough to settle the young woman as her features slackened and settled. 

Looking to Lucy, Val shook her head, the two girls in the room were still so young. Much like Lucy’s boys they had gone through far too much in their short lives, both losing their mothers, both going weeks without seeing their fathers, both thrust into a world of espionage and secrets. They both claimed they loved their lives, Val had seen the way their faces lit up when offered a task utilising their skills, but she knew that neither knew anything any different. It was what their fathers did, and it was what they had blindly followed them into. 

“Mrs Tracy?” A doctor stepped through the door, followed closely by Parker, “Mr Kyrano is asking after you. He’s just next door.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Penelope offered quietly.

“H’and I’ll stay with M’Lady.” Parker added, “You ladies see to Mister Kyrano, h’and make sure he’s alright.”

Lucy nodded, pulling away from Kayo as she straightened, “Thank you Parker.”