#and about how THEM uses those same entities to survive

[theconsciouscrow]

And that's why i love Remedy games: the story tries to sell their hero, but there's no hero nor villain; it's all about who gives agency to whom, and how that power is used. You're hearing Naughty Dog? Stop making players feel bad about themselves: start writing about a.g.e.n.c.y.

polaris is math and order. hiss is organics and chaos. polaris is about the importance of the individual which comes with the progress. hiss is about the community above individual's will.

polaris didn't help dylan because she wanted jesse to succeed as an individual and not as part of faden family, because her nature is to be unique – and ultimately, alone. that's why hedron ended up being destroyed, darling sent to hell, dylan being abandoned – because polaris already has jesse, a single, most capable host who put herself into the most unique position – the director of federal bureau of control – by herself.

[soldierandawar]

Really, the issue is that people cannot hold two conflicting thoughts in their heads at the same time. That's why arguments online are so frustrating. Most of the time, it's like, "Yes! Both of these things are true!" But no one wants to hear that. Everyone has to be right. We have to prove ourselves as better than others, so we start using identifiers, "Oh, so you're a <insert term here>." to separate ourselves, and it's exhausting.

If you lack conflict management skills and refuse to look inward, how can you create community?

[alostwanderernotfound]

PANDEMICS- Hostile Power Takeover? Learnings on Urban & Domestic Warfare, “Disease: Bacteria Part 1, Fundamental Considerations”:

Let’s say the hostile power is more technologically advanced & half robot/half machine or full machine, so seemingly unkillable. Organic beings are very vulnerable to having disease used as a weapon against them.

Disease can be a major benefit to this type of hostile power & it would be an incredibly powerful weapon. This allows the destruction of an organic-based domestic population & it can also allow the harvesting of resources to build new bodies and/or reuse of the entire body depending on the disease process.

There are many insidious ways diseases develop & spread. This process DOES NOT just occur in a laboratory. Remember that there are many different “groupings” of entities we refer to as pathogens or things with the ability to cause disease.

Bacteria are an important one. Bacteria & other pathogens can reproduce by multiple means. Here I’m going to speak about bacteria with the capacity to do Bacterial conjugation. This involves passing characteristic between two different bacteria similar to how sexual reproduction can pass on characteristics. This is overall an important conversation because a lot of the most complex & common life forms in our daily lives also spread these characteristics through similar principles through sexual reproduction.

> A lot of bacteria to our awareness are able to pass on characteristics. Bacterial DNA contains the “instructions”/“resources” for bacteria to either have or not have characteristics.

-Bacterial conjugation for example allows one bacteria to attach to a second bacteria & send resources to the second bacteria. After this process, the second bacteria is able to transform and display the characteristics transferred to it. Example: Bacteria A can change colors like a chameleon. Bacteria B cannot change color. Once Bacteria A attaches to Bacteria B and they are compatible, Bacteria A passes on resources to Bacteria B. Bacteria B then acquires the ability to change color. Bacteria B now can change color & has attainted the same advantage as originally only bacteria A had. Now Bacteria A and Bacteria B can change color like a chameleon.

- The other way characteristics form & occur in a bacterial population is through mutation. If a bacteria’s DNA is altered or mutates then it can produce a bacteria with new traits & characteristics. Radiation for example, like from X-rays, often causes mutations. Sometimes mutations do “nothing” we can really perceive with our eyes. But overtime, they will eventually create large changes and can produce huge benefits for bacteria. For example: A bacteria could have always have been wiped out from nuclear weapons then overtime from mutations it can acquire the ability to survive living inside an area with nuclear radiation.

-This is a very important concept to fully understand so that you can become cognizant of how insidious this process is when discussing what bioterrorism in the modern world can look like. Pandemics are not caused just from mysterious lab leaks. The practices we do everyday are still contributing to the next pandemic occurring.

-This also gives everyone a better understanding of how MRSA or an antibiotic resistant bacteria really was “made” inside our hospitals.

> Bacteria can possibly have random or genetically engineered characteristics.

-If there are 100 random bacteria on an isolated surface that formed there naturally, some will have favorable characteristics to cause severe disease. But, some bacteria will not have those characteristics to cause severe disease. The bacteria lacking these deadly characteristics, but are still part of the same family of bacteria, would be considered weaker pathogens (weaker pathogen meaning they would cause less severe disease in organic beings).

-**But it is important to remember, If someone purposefully put bacteria down on a surface there is a chance it will not be a random distribution in strength of bacteria & they will mostly all be bacteria with strong characteristics. That group would probably be closer to 100 out of 100 of the bacteria carrying the deadly characteristic.**

>There are 2 main basic premises (which can be further subdivided and added onto when discussing what makes pathogens strong, but for now I’m discussing a more fundamentals explanation) we consider when determining bacterial pathogen strength: number of bacteria & the amount of deadly/harmful characteristics each bacteria possess.

-Reducing the overall number of bacteria in a group of random bacteria does not always mean you make a pathogen less strong. (Example: Purposefully killing 50 bacteria out of 100 and now there are only 50 bacteria in the group.)

If you destroy many of the weaker bacteria & only leave strong bacteria to reproduce, pathogens overtime can get stronger & more deadly. So, by destroying only the weaker bacteria in a group of bacteria, you slowly make pathogens stronger through this natural process & it doesn’t have to occur inside of a laboratory. To make a bacterial pathogen less strong by focusing on decreasing the overall number of those bacteria that exist in our world, you would also have to consider how many of each strength you eliminate. This is because we currently we do not use practices that wipe out groups of bacteria 100%, so we must consider these two elements together instead of separate when evaluating pathogen strength. Example: Lets say there are 100 bacteria and you wipe out 90. Bacteria A can cause humans to be paralyzed. Bacteria B cannot paralyze humans. Out of the 10 bacteria still alive, if all 10 are Bacteria A then you have eliminated the chance people would be infected with the less severe version of the disease, with Bacteria B. In the long term Bacteria A now has a strong chance to reproduce & when Bacteria A infects people it would then cause paralysis in everyone & the population could collapse. In another scenario, consider if you wiped out 90 bacteria out of 100, but you did it purposefully. Out of the 10 bacteria left, 9 were Bacteria that were Bacteria B & couldn’t cause paralysis. The last 1 out of the 10 left was Bacteria A. Then when those 10 bacteria reproduced it effectively helps “dilute” this negative characteristic in this bacterial family. Based off randomness & probability, when there this group reproduces to the size of 20 bacteria only approximately 2 of them may carry Bacteria A’s paralytic characteristic & 18 will carry bacteria B’s characteristic that does not cause paralysis. So, even though we can’t stop the bacteria number from growing, since we mindfully intervened we can still divert the trajectory of the pathogen from becoming a pathogen with the ability to become “pandemic level” and/or very very harmful.

>Two ways pathogens can get weaker is by lowering the amount of bacteria in the world & by lowering its severe disease characteristics, but this these two categories have an important interplay.

-This is an oversimplified explanation of how disease spreads & evolves, but the fundamental principles are VERY important to the overall understanding of what’s occurring. Imagine a group of bacteria you count has 100 total bacteria. 50 of them carry a gene to cause paralysis in humans & 50 do not carry this gene. When 100 people come in contact with the 50/50 bacteria distribution and get sick only 50 out of 100 of the people get paralyzed. This allows the other 50 people time to work on vaccinations & interventions to stop everyone from eventually being paralyzed.

-But, if you kill the 50 out of the 100 bacteria that do not carry the gene for paralysis then your bacteria group went from 100 to a total of 50 in size. In the short term the spread of the disease is likely to go down, as it is less likely people will randomly spread 50 objects instead of 100. BUT, those 50 bacteria with the gene to cause paralysis will only reproduce with other bacteria that also have that gene. So this bacteria, since you wiped out the 50 that don’t cause paralysis, now ALL cause paralysis & anyone who comes in contact with this bacteria strain will get paralyzed. So eventually with time the group of 50 bacteria will reproduce to 100 & spread at the same rate as they were originally, but now they cause more harm to people.

>When you unknowingly touch a colony of bacteria on an object or life form, you pick up a random sample of random “strength” of bacteria.

>****PLEASE READ: you can ALSO pickup a sample of bacteria that is all “strong bacteria” but this is NOT usually a natural occurrence you will see & is suggestive someone or something altered the bacteria and purposefully put those bacteria there. A group of bacteria that looks like it formed organically vs one that was purposefully placed there can be differentiated with taking samples of surfaces and people & counting how many strong bacteria vs weak bacteria there are, but we as a population do not regularly test for this in this way. Due to this I’m going to speak with the viewpoint of natural bacteria groups that have a gradient of “strengths”. In an ideal world we would identity groups of bacteria that have gradients of strength of bacteria vs groups of all similar strength, as interventions to stop them from becoming strong pathogens work DIFFERENTLY.)

>After you touch those bacteria they attempt to multiply and stay alive on you. Then if you touch other things they can be placed on another surface or thing. Sometimes they are placed on other surfaces in an environment or you touch your body & they are placed closer to an entrance to the inside or your body & then they are able to enter your body.

-This process will cause one of the following to occur: bacteria will stay in the area you touched & colonize it, they will die when attempting to enter the body, the bacteria will give you a disease , or in some cases the bacteria will live symbiotically inside you & help your body. If a bacteria lives symbiotically with you & does not cause harm then we do not refer to that as a pathogen, but rather just as a bacteria.

>Anytime you wipe out a group of bacteria by taking out 100% it causes that pathogen to get weaker overall, but the issue is that we do not do interventions that wipe out 100%.

-Currently anytime you clean an object in the hospital with a sanitizing wipe, you always kill less than 100% of the bacteria. This leaves behind a certain % of bacteria & they will be the strongest of that group of bacteria, because they were able to live even though you applied a cleaning product on them. This means the strongest bacteria left, even though there are less after cleaning, are now reproducing over and over again & getting stronger.

-So, when there is an environment with a large amount of bacteria variability (so all these new patients with new exposures to new bacteria that travel and touch things all the time), with shared equipment, with not 100% effective methods to destroy pathogens, & this long list of variables, we slowly produce very strong & deadly pathogens inside of hospitals.

-IF someone purposefully puts deadly bacteria ontop of a surface inside a hospital and it is a group of 100 strong & identical or cloned bacteria with no difference in genetics then wiping them out through imperfect cleaning will overall reduce pathogen deadliness. This is because there are no “stronger” pathogens vs “weaker” pathogens. They are all the same strength in this example and therefore will always get weaker when you reduce their number because they won’t reproduce to be more deadly.

>People often think when people are trying to cause them harm that would only occur when someone makes a pathogen in a lab & then deceptively goes and places some near you. This is not accurate.

-With knowing this do you see how for a hostile power there is actually LESS incentive to going through with all that work & instead a hostile power can abuse the system to cause harm? If you expect biological warfare to ONLY come out of a lab, this means you would be looking for the wrong patterns of behavior & pathogens will spiral out of control.

A lot of practices we currently use now unfortunately heavily contribute to this process that causes pathogens to get stronger.

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

I keep thinking about Arthur's regression at the end of Season 2 and then into Season 3. I keep thinking about how victims of trauma tend to get worse once they escape their traumatic situation. How their body and mind start to crack and shake under the weight of the horrors, now safe enough to escape the survivorship mindset but now forced to endure the fallout.

I keep thinking of how hard Faroe's death hit Arthur. How his guilt and grief were so intense that he wanted to kill himself, so low that he drank himself into a stupor for who knows how many years to just dull the pain. I keep imagining how hard it was to pull himself out of that, to work with Parker and find a new meaning in life, to walk away from his guilt of killing his daughter, and instead to help people.

(I keep thinking of how Arthur finds a vial of alcohol in the Dreamlands. How he sniffs it and recoils in disgust.)

I keep thinking of how long it took for Arthur to build himself back up from his lowest point, to tuck the guilt of Faroe in the deepest corner of his mind just so that he has enough room to breathe, to live, to be a better person. (And yet, Faroe is every facet of his life. It's his first memory in Season One, when he plays Faroe's Song, when he doesn't even remember his own name. It's the last name on his lips when he dies on that boat. It's his only memory when John is torn away from him.) I keep thinking about how Arthur is consciously repressing her every second of every day just so that he can keep going.

And then John pushes, and asks, and asks again. And finally, after almost dying twice with this entity, after surviving time and time again, he thinks he can trust him. He thinks he can share his deepest secret, to pull open the wound he keeps stitching over to protect himself. How he risks feeling the grief he's suppressed for years to trust someone. I keep thinking how John seizes it and, because he is ancient and young and inexperienced, childlike in his tantrums and his fears of responsibility and consequence, he uses it as a weapon the moment he's backed into a corner. I keep thinking of how not only the trust is torn away from Arthur, but how his wound is stretched and torn, and not only does his guilt and grief come back, but it's like a tidal wave that he cannot suppress this time. He's opened that wound and John has pried it wider, and now Arthur can't shut it. He survives in those pits, but she is all he thinks of. He escapes those pits, and ("Goodbye, Faroe.") she is all he thinks of. He slits his throat and she's all he thinks of.

He enters at icy cabin (a small gurgle, a bundle of blankets in his arm, a warm hum rumbling in his chest as he lulls his whole World to sleep) and he thinks of her to keep going.

And then Yellow enters, a blank slate, a John before he was John, and the pain is too fresh. This is the thing that tortured him. This is the thing that starved him. This is the thing who asked who his daughter was, and when he told him, the thing called him a killer. John and Yellow and the King are all the same in that moment, and Arthur's too fucked up and traumatized to separate them tangibly, as much as he insists that he can. His hatred grows and grows, all from himself, until it bleeds into Yellow, and he remakes this entity in his image, in his self-pitying hatred.

So when Yellow finally calls him a monster (and Arthur knows, he's called himself that the moment he saw the water spill from the bathtub onto the tile below), Arthur holds it close to his chest, and becomes it.

[ranpazz]

FOOL ME ONCE, FOOL ME TWICE. ft. Fyodor Dostoevsky

synopsis ; Fyodor kept telling himself that he only kept you around for your ability. But how many times can he keep saying the same thing when you show him such genuine tenderness?

cw ; angst if you squint, mostly fluff, mentions of self-harm (fyodor biting his nails), you're his little nurse tbh, IT'S PROOFREAD FOR ONCE!!!

Beneath the Silken Dreams – An ability that allows whatever the user imagines to come to life. Fictional entities, objects, and living creatures. As long as there is a clear image in mind, it will become reality. However, this power cannot manipulate timelines, outcomes of scenarios, or the world.

Fyodor was a complicated man– one with a cryptic goal. Only a handful of individuals were aware of his status, his intellect, what he could do, what he would do. His goal was a tedious one, eliminating all ability users from this world. You knew his priorities better than anyone, he had reminded you countless times. He also didn't hesitate to remind you why you were still by his side. "Your ability is useful," he'd say, and that cold yet mocking tone was all you needed to hear.

You truly should have known this from the start. People that were subordinates of Fyodor were exactly what they were called. Subordinates. Disposable, replaceable, pawns for him to strive closer to his desire of a promised land. However, even with those painfully clear facts, you wanted to believe you were treated just a bit better.

In fact, it was rather noticeable. You've always been near Fyodor even before you became a part of this organization. Throughout the silence that filled the air when you were in his presence, there was always an unspoken conversation between the two of you. Perhaps you were delusional, or maybe you were right. He'd never inform you of the answer either way.

He noticed it though, how he allowed you to easily wander around like a stray cat, you were never too far away from him. He told himself that it was due to your awareness of your usefulness in his plans, yet, even he knew that there was more to it than that. This –whatever this was– was certainly a relationship that he couldn't figure out. Fyodor, for once, did not want to piece this together. Growing attatched with someone in this world was a mistake– a grave one for the reciever.

How can he push himself away when there's something so alluring about you that even he cannot overcome?

"Fyodor-kun," you called out. "your tea."

This was a tradition of sorts for the both of you. Everyday, at a certain time, you'd bring him tea along with a few snacks. It occurred without fail, and he noted it. Fyodor refused at first, he didn't want to accept your generousity. Eventually, he gave in just to indulge in you, after all, you continued insisting to the point where he cannot comprehend his next thought.

Fyodor looked away from his set of monitors, turning in his chair to face you. He then took the teacup you had prepared– the same one as always. As he took a sip, his eyes softened the smallest bit at the sight of you. You looked tired. Had you not been sleeping well? How come he had never noticed this before?

"{♡}, you should attempt to receive proper rest," he began. "You're of no use to me if you're surviving off of mere winks."

Honestly, he knew that the part involving your usefulness was not necessary, but he would rather remind you of your place rather that sound like he cares. Unfortunately for his emotional constipation, you caught on. It warmed your heart to see the subtle concern he expressed– it meant you were getting somewhere.

"Try these. They're delicious." You ignored his suggestion about your rest, pointing to the thumbprint cookies on the small tray. Fyodor enjoyed jam with his tea, you learned, so you decided to make cookies to test his palette.

He gave you a neutral, almost unimpressed, look. You mirrored it, albeit with a silent plea in your eyes. 'Please please try them,' you thought, and as if he could hear your mind racing, he sighed, setting down the teacup before reaching for a cookie. You noticed the teeth marks and dried blood near his nails– he'd been biting them again.

It was almost ridiculous how familiar you were with his habits, the little things he did or enjoyed. Though, the self-destructive habits upset you, and it didn't matter if he cared about your outbursts or not. He shouldn't have done them if he did not want to hear it.

"You've been biting on your fingertips again," you stated, a frown playing on your lips. "I keep telling you to find some alternative to that, Fyodor-kun." The Russian did not pay you any mind, bringing the small cookie to his mouth and taking a bite. You wondered if this was the first thing he's eaten today, and knowing him, it most likely was.

He let out a quiet hum of satisfaction from the taste of the dessert, the jam balancing the sweetness of the dough. It did not surprise him that your baking had been advancing, especially since it was always you who tended to him. "You did a splendid job baking these. Leave them there. I will finish the rest later on."

Your heart fluttered from his praise, but you quickly reminded yourself of the state his hand was in. Thankfully, you had prepared for these –reoccurring– situations. Fyodor observed with a subtle interest as you rummaged through one of the drawers in his desk, pulling a package of bandaids along with alcohol wipes, holding up the items with a knowing glint in your eyes.

The next sigh he had let out was one of resignation, extending his hand out to you with a look of something you couldn't quite name. Instead of dwelling on it, you tore open the little packet of alcohol wipes, placing the seal aside. You took his hand in your own, his touch cold yet familiar. Dabbing the alcohol pad against the tiny wounds, he didn't even react.

You wondered how people would react if they discovered that the 'demon fyodor', monster of the underworld who trampled anyone who opposed him, was getting the most insignificant of injures cleaned. People feared him –his touch– but you were never afraid of his ability, much less himself. Call it naivety or bravery, but you could never bring yourself to be fearful of him. To you, Fyodor was simply a man who wanted a pure world, to offer benevolence to the children and bring light. His methods were questionable, you knew that, but you'd do anything to help him achieve this dream world.

After cleaning the cuts, you opened a couple of bandaids and wrapped them around each finger delicately. He did not understand how you could handle someone like him with such care, as if he were the most fragile thing on earth. His piercing gaze trailed from your hands to your face, studying you. You were used to his habit of staring, so you let him be.

You tossed the wrappers and such away into the small bin beneath his desk, offering him one more smile before stepping away to tend to your other duties. "I'll see you later, Fyodor-kun." You said, leaving the room without another word.

Unbeknownst to you, a small yet noticeable smile had revealed itself on Fyodor's usual expressionless face when you left his office. If only you were aware of the genuineness behind it.

He supposed you were more important than he presumed back then.

[the-most-humble-blog]

<!-- BEGIN TRANSMISSION -->

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap">

<meta anomaly-type="fossil-terror-omission">

<script>ARCHIVE_TAG="BIOLOGICAL_HORROR_002:TIME_MACHINE_DENIAL_PROTOCOL"

EFFECT: spine freeze, academic panic, traveler hesitation

</script>

🧬 **YOU SURE YOU WANT TO GET IN THAT TIME MACHINE, BRO?**

---

This isn’t sci-fi.

This isn’t a joke.

This is a warning.

You’ve seen the memes.

“Let’s go back and see the dinosaurs.”

“Let’s ride a pterosaur like a winged horse.”

“Let’s watch the Big Bang with popcorn.”

You ever notice how none of them end with:

**“And I made it back.”**

Here’s the truth — whispered in labs, buried under NDAs, and white-papered out of the peer-reviewed journals:

> **You are not ready for what Earth used to be.**

> And you’re especially not ready for what we have *no record of at all.*

---

## I. 99.9% OF LIFE FORMS LEFT **NO FOSSIL RECORD**

Let’s start there.

All those skeletons in museums?

That’s the minority.

That’s the “photogenic dead.”

> Over 99.9% of Earth’s lifeforms —

> including animals, fungi, viruses, and microbial horrors —

**left no trace**.

Soft-bodied, acid-blooded, radiation-fed, gravity-dense entities

that slithered, pulsed, hissed, and screamed their way across the planet

**without a single bone to bury.**

---

## II. OUR FOSSIL RECORD IS AN OBFUSCATED LIE OF ABSENCE

We think we know what lived.

We don’t.

We know what got **preserved.**

That’s not the same.

It's like looking at a battlefield

and only finding the metal buttons.

You don’t see the blood.

You don’t see the screams.

You see **what survived death long enough to be studied**.

And the scariest shit?

**Didn’t die properly.**

It was **erased.**

Or **refused to leave a corpse.**

---

## III. REAL SCIENTISTS WHISPER ABOUT CENOBITE-LEVEL ORGANISMS

They won’t say it on camera.

They won’t publish the full story.

But behind closed doors, in lab corners, in the margins of decoded epigenomes?

They whisper about things that:

- **Defy carbon-based life rules**

- **Existed with non-symmetrical limbs**

- **Functioned on inverted predator logic** (they *bred* by entering their prey and absorbing its lineage)

- **Left molecular scars** in the surrounding geology but no trace of DNA

- **Mimic organ structures to lure prey — including early human analogs**

One paleobiologist called them:

> “The biological equivalents of a Sumerian curse, frozen mid-scream.”

---

## IV. EVOLUTION IS NOT LINEAR.

IT IS **REPEATED EXORCISM.**

You think we evolved forward?

No.

We survived waves of **planet-wide horror experiments.**

> Mass extinction isn’t just random chaos.

> It’s **planetary reboot.**

A great flood wasn’t just water.

It was **pressure-washing nightmares off the crust**.

You know what we’re told?

> “That period had low fossil diversity.”

You know what that means?

> “Nothing left corpses because it was too f*cked up to die properly.”

---

## V. ORGANISMS EXISTED THAT **BYPASSED DEATH**

Literally.

Some didn’t rot.

Some didn’t fossilize.

They **collapsed into thermal shadows** or **vaporized upon environmental failure.**

> Think that’s fiction?

We’ve found heat shadows in billion-year-old strata.

We’ve found pressure-deformed mineral blooms

with no origin.

We’ve found **parasite signatures inside fossilized feces… with no host record.**

They weren’t “primitive.”

They were **too advanced to trace.**

And they **hunted by sensing consciousness.**

You want to travel back?

Hope your mind is quiet enough to not get **detected**.

---

## VI. TIME TRAVEL IS NOT A WINDOW.

IT’S A **DOOR INTO A DARK ROOM.**

You think you’re going back to ride a mammoth?

To hug a dodo?

To camp under Cretaceous stars?

No.

You are **entering a biosphere optimized for brutal dominance**.

No antibiotics.

No immune system compatibility.

No environmental prep.

And no record to warn you

about the **transparent predators**

that were **almost—but not quite—sentient.**

---

## VII. BIOLOGICAL STRUCTURES EXISTED THAT DON’T OBEY GEOMETRY

We’ve uncovered embryonic imprints

of multi-cellular organisms

**folded in recursive 5D geometry.**

They existed.

They functioned.

And they were shaped like **impossible knots**

that digested prey by **trapping them in localized spatial loops.**

Yes.

They fed by turning your body into an eternal folding pocket.

You’d never die.

Just loop forever.

Ask yourself:

> “What do you do when the thing that eats you doesn’t even have a mouth?”

---

## VIII. EPIGENETIC MEMORY CONTAINS **TRAUMA WE NEVER LIVED**

This is where it gets cosmic.

We’re finding emotional phobias in human subjects

**not traceable to their lived experience.**

These fears correspond to:

- **Slick, undulating motion**

- **Red-mottled texture signatures**

- **Low-frequency howling patterns**

These match theoretical reconstructions of creatures

we **only know about through energy imprint signatures.**

Your ancestors didn’t escape them.

**They carried the scream forward**.

And it’s still buried in your gut.

You *feel* what the fossil record refused to tell you.

---

## IX. THE PLANET DIDN’T JUST KILL THESE THINGS.

**IT BURIED THEM ON PURPOSE.**

The Cambrian explosion wasn’t an explosion of life.

It was a **clearing.**

A **mass incineration of what came before.**

You think Earth is nurturing?

No.

Earth is a trauma survivor

who has done **everything in her power to forget what she once hosted**.

There are strata **we don’t drill into**.

Geological zones where entire dig teams go quiet.

Not out of superstition.

But because **they found something**

and **chose to never report it.**

---

## X. YOU STILL WANT THAT TIME MACHINE?

Ask yourself again.

You sure?

Because this isn’t "Jurassic Park."

This isn’t "Stargate."

This isn’t "let’s go say hi to early man."

It’s **a biological crime scene**,

**a psychosexual furnace**,

**a pre-human gallery of godless anatomy**.

You step back far enough?

You’re not exploring time.

> You’re **entering a part of Earth that tried to die with its horrors intact.**

And when you get there?

They’ll see you.

They’ll know you’re soft.

And they’ll ask:

> “Why did you come alone?”

</div>

<!-- END TRANSMISSION [AUTO-WIPE IN: 00:07:07] -->

[scary-grace]

the one - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

You made a deal with Fate to grant Shigaraki Tomura a long and happy life, but that came at a cost - in the world your wish created, the two of you never met. But his life isn't the only one your wish changed, and as you struggle to carry the burden of a past that exists only in your memory, you find your path crossing with old friends and former enemies in a way you never expected. Can you build a life worth living in the aftermath of everything you've seen and done? Can you do it without the person you changed everything for? Or will you and Tomura, against all odds, find your way back to each other one more time?

For Challenge Friday @pixelcafe-network! Fixit-ish, angst, tw for drug use/addiction, recovery. 21k in part 1. Dividers by @cafekitsune.

part i part ii

i. if one thing had been different

Do you know what you are truly asking of me? The entity’s voice isn’t audible, but it’s a physical sensation all the same – a roll of thunder rattling your chest, a vibration that settles into your bones and won’t stop. Even the smallest wish changes the world. You are asking me to alter the course of history. To change what has already happened, and replace it with the happy outcome you desire.

Laid out like that, it sounds awful. You sound awful for asking it, but you didn’t come this far to back down now. Awful as it is, selfish as it is, you still want the same thing you wanted when you set out on a quest into dark and forgotten places, far from the sunny, modern, well-lit surface of the world. “Yes,” you say. “That is what I wish.”

Why?

Why not? “What happened to Tomura wasn’t fair. I want to fix it.”

What happens to so many is unfair. The world is an unfair place, the entity counters. It’s telling you. You’re the one who lives in it, who experienced the unfairness that led you to the League of Villains, who seethes with frustration and hatred every time you think of how little the world has changed. Was what happened to Shigaraki Tomura truly so much worse than the rest? Why is it that he deserves a happy outcome?

“Doesn’t everybody deserve a happy outcome?” you ask. “The people who love everybody else didn’t come find you. I did.”

A villain, with a villain’s selfishness, the entity rumbles. You won’t argue it. And yet, your wish is not for a happy outcome for yourself.

“If Tomura is happy, I’ll be happy,” you say. “That’s what it means to love someone.”

You don’t remember when you fell in love with Tomura. Don’t remember when you realized that you’d do anything for him, that you weren’t fighting for an ideal any longer, but for him. But you remember when you found out he loved you back. There was something magical about being one of the few parts of the world he didn’t hate, something improbable and special and rare about being someone worth surviving for. You’ve kept those memories close, spent so long turning them over and over in your hands that they’ve worn smooth and featureless. All that’s left is the feeling. The warmth and peace and comfort of waking up alongside him and knowing he belonged to you.

It’s been so cold since he died. Since the heroes murdered him, and no matter where you look, you can’t find evidence of him anywhere in the world. You were released after five years in Tartarus, because while you were present at the scene of every last one of the League’s crimes, there’s no evidence that you killed anyone, and when you got out, you were horrified to see just how completely he’s been forgotten. If the world had changed because of him, it might be easier to survive. But it hasn’t. So you’re here.

If he’s happy, you’ll be happy, the entity repeats. You are aware that there is a price.

Everything has a price. “I’ll pay it. I don’t care what it is.”

So be it, the entity says. Speak your wish again.

“I wish for Shigaraki Tomura to live a long and happy life,” you say. “That’s all I want.”

It will be so, the entity murmurs. Return to the surface, and sleep. When you awaken, all will be as you asked.

The truth settles deep into your chest, deeper even than the entity’s voice. You’ve been granted your wish, and when you wake up in the morning, everything will be all right. “What price did I pay?”

You said you didn’t care.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.”

I cannot say for certain, the entity says, except to say that it is not your life. You will live to see every result of your wish.

“Good,” you say. As long as Tomura can be happy, you’ll be happy, too.

It’s a long climb back to the surface. When you emerge into the polar night, beneath a sky devoid of clouds and moon and northern lights, the exhaustion feels as though it’s part of you, something that will never leave. Maybe it’ll follow you into the world your wish created. Maybe that will be the price of your wish. If it is, you’ll take it. As you stumble back to the shelter you built with only half an expectation that you’d ever return, you feel at peace for the first time in eight years. For the first time in eight years, it’s easy to fall asleep.

When you wake, you’re no longer in your shelter. No longer in the north. You’re in a city – you can tell by the noise – and you’re asleep on a hard mattress in a drafty room. It wasn’t your most restful sleep, but you open your eyes rather than trying to drift off again. Your wish must have been granted, because things have changed, and you don’t want to sleep. All you want to do is find Tomura again.

He’s not here. The room you’re staying looks like a motel room, somewhere no one stays for long, and your belongings are piled up in one corner of the room. You get dressed, gather them, and leave. It’s all right if you have to look for him a little bit. You have no memory of how you got here, but then again, this isn’t the world you lived in. You’re the only one who knows the world has changed. When you find Tomura, it’ll start to make sense again. He’ll have lived in this world the whole time, and you know he won’t mind explaining.

But there’s no sign of Tomura anywhere. Not in the motel lobby, not in the park across the street. His number’s not in the phone whose passcode is thankfully present in your muscle memory, and you pick your way down the block, anxiety beginning to bubble in the pit of your stomach. You know things have changed, because they’ve changed for you. So where is he?

Finally it occurs to you to look him up on the internet, and when your search result returns nothing, your heart drops so far and fast that it makes you nauseous. You wind up crouched on a street corner, struggling to breathe, until it occurs to you that a world with a happy outcome for Tomura might be one where he never became Shigaraki Tomura at all. You search his first name instead, the one he murmured to you half-asleep once and never again. Shimura Tenko.

Shimura Tenko is a pro hero. His hero name is Endgame. He’s a protégé of All Might’s, although not his successor, and when he’s in the news, he’s in it for rescue heroics. Shigaraki Tomura never existed, and Shimura Tenko is a hero who saves people, and it starts to dawn on you with horrible slowness. With shaking fingers, you search your own name. And you find your name in the news, too – in the news articles about the minor heroes who’ve captured you, with an ever-longer rap sheet attached.

Now you understand. You wished for a long and happy life for Tomura, but the only way for him to live happily is to never become Shigaraki Tomura. And if he never became Shigaraki Tomura, he never met you. Tomura will have a happy ending, but you won’t be part of it. And you remember what the entity promised, too: You will live to see every result of your wish.

Your own happiness was the price for Tomura’s. And you’ll be paying for the rest of your life.

He’s happy. You know he’s happy – pro hero Endgame, nowhere near the top ten, with friends and a dog and a mentor who’s proud of him and some girl he keeps getting photographed with out and about – and you try out different ways to be okay with it. What you said to the entity as you made your wish feels stupid, naïve. If he’s happy, you’re happy, because that’s what it means to love someone? If that was true, you wouldn’t feel sick every time you hear his name. You can’t make it okay that way. You have to find something else.

You try telling yourself that Shimura Tenko isn’t the man you love. You loved Shigaraki Tomura, and this isn’t him – it’s someone else, someone you’ve never met, someone you don’t know. You’re in love with someone who’s died, someone who’s never existed. You can be happy for him, the same as you’d be happy for a stranger having a good day. You can’t mourn for something that was never yours to begin with. Everything’s okay.

But that isn’t right, either. You’ve seen him smile in pictures, heard him laugh in interviews, and it’s just the same as you remember. The scars on his face are the same ones you ran your fingers over so many times, the birthmark at the corner of his mouth is the same one you kissed. The love you felt for Tomura defined your life, and he’s still there. How can he not be there? You can see him. Sometimes, when you’re particularly delusional, you imagine that he’d recognize you if the two of you met again, but you know in your heart that you’d be nothing to him. Just another stranger. Just another villain.

You’re still a villain, a minor one, and without Tomura and the League of Villains to force society to confront even one small piece of their hypocrisy, nothing’s changed for the better. With your record, the police and the heroes always have a tab on you, and you know they’re waiting for a chance to pull you off the street. The fact that you’ve been to Tartarus and know it’s worse doesn’t make you feel any differently about being in jail, so it’s worth avoiding. Sometimes you can’t help it, though. Sometimes you have to steal if you want to eat. And when you can’t ignore what you’re seeing, you have to act.

At first you don’t recognize the man on his knees in the middle of the intersection, hunched and mumbling, hands clamped on either side of his head. He’s wearing a paper bag over his head, not the mask you’re familiar with, but as soon as you hear his voice, you know who it is. Twice is surrounded by a perimeter of police cars, a ring of civilians hanging well back out of the way, and you can see a Maiden in the background, waiting to encase him. You don’t see injuries, or stolen property lying around. It looks like a scene you’ve witnessed a dozen times, where the distinction between a person in need of help and a dangerous criminal is erased, and you know without even thinking that you can’t witness it again.

You try to talk to the police. Tell them you know Twice, tell them you can calm him down, tell them there are other ways to handle this scene, even though you know they won’t listen. What do you do when they don’t listen? Get louder. Get more insistent. Become such a nuisance that their attention turns to Twice and not you, and that has consequences. Consequences like you getting Tasered. Like your head striking the side of a cop car as you fall, before cracking hard against the concrete. Like you passing out and waking up in a holding cell with a splitting headache, all set for a month’s sentence for interfering with a police matter.

You have a concussion and a fractured cheekbone, neither of which the jail’s doctors care about treating, and your headache never fades. You’re set to spend the entire month cringing away from the light and groaning in pain until someone in the cell with you takes pity on you. “If you don’t quiet down, they’ll smother you in your sleep,” she murmurs in your ear. “Take these.”

It’s an effort to focus your blurry eyes on the pills she’s holding out. You know what they are – something you avoided before, no matter how badly you got knocked around or how much you wanted to forget. But you’re tired of how much this hurts. Tired of remembering every day what you lost and fending off the thought of just how hollow your wish-come-true has made you feel. You pluck the neuroin pills out of your cellmate’s hand and swallow them dry, their bitter taste flooding the back of your throat.

Neuroin works fast. It doesn’t put you to sleep. But it’s enough to make you forget. And when you do remember, all you want is to forget again.

“Can you hear me?”

Someone is tapping your shoulders, speaking loudly and clearly, but it feels like they’re speaking to you from the surface, when you’re kilometers deep in the sea. You try to slip away, but they rub their knuckles hard across your sternum, and it hurts. Even then, you can’t rise to defend yourself – just keep lying there, your breathing slow and uneven, your mind going grey at the edges. Their hands might still be on you. You can’t tell. Their voice, familiar as it is, is growing more distant by the second.

How did you get here? Why is it so hard to wake up? Do you even want to wake up? You don’t have a choice about that, and it doesn’t matter. You made the only choice that mattered already, and it brought you here. Wherever here is. Whatever’s happening to you now. You could find it, if you searched, but it doesn’t matter, either. You can hear another voice. “Give it up. They’re all gone.”

“Not yet,” the first voice, the familiar one, says. “It’s only been a minute and a half, and protocol allows for a second dose.”

“You can waste it if you want, but what do you think it’ll do? She’s as dead as the rest of them –”

“Doctors pronounce people dead. Not heroes,” the first hero says sharply, and something about the way he says the word kicks off a faint spark in you. An alarm goes off. “Second dose. You can do this. Come on.”

Neuroin is hard to come up from, and this must have been a bad batch, but with two doses of Narcan in your system, you can fight your way back if you want. And you do want. You want to see if you’re right, despite knowing that it’ll devastate you, despite knowing that seeing him will make you wish you’d never woken up in the first place. You have to know. You fight your way back to the surface, your breathing labored and still uneven, and look into the eyes of the hero who wouldn’t give up on you.

You were right. “Welcome back,” the pro hero known as Endgame says, his raspy voice calm and steady, his crimson eyes soft. “I don’t know how much you remember about what’s happened –”

“Overdose.” Your speech is slurred. You sound drunk, and you don’t want to sound drunk talking to Tomura. He always clowned on you for not being able to hold your liquor. “Narcan. Been here before.”

“On purpose?” Tomura asks, and you shake your head. He looks relieved, even though he doesn’t know you, even though he’s a hero and should probably see you as a waste of space. “I’m glad you’re here. There’s an ambulance coming. Do you want to try sitting up?”

You give it a shot, knowing that you’re not strong enough, just so he’ll touch you again, and he does. One arm around your back to hold you up, one hand on your shoulder to steady you. “This wasn’t your fault,” Tomura tells you. Tomura sounds like a hero. He is a hero – but he always was, wasn’t he? Your hero, the League’s hero, the one who fought for everyone who’d been left behind. “Someone’s been purposely tainting batches of neuroin by cutting them with some other compound, which makes it – well, I guess if this has happened before, you probably know.”

You nod rather than admit that most of your previous overdoses, while not truly purposeful, weren’t all that unintentional, either. “We’re looking for the person who did it,” Tomura continues, “and we’ll find them. But this wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known what was in it.”

“Using it was a choice.” You glance up and see the hero Tomura’s paired with looking down at you, arms crossed over his chest. Bakugou Katsuki has the same eat-shit look on his face that you remember, the one that says you and everybody else are beneath him, the one you were glad to see wiped off his face after Tomura killed him. “No one held your arm down and made you shoot up.”

“No one asked you,” Tomura snaps at him. He refocuses on you, even though Bakugou’s right – no one made you shoot up. No one’s ever had to make you take neuroin. “Hey. Look at me.  The paramedics are going to be here, and they’ll take you to the hospital. Once the doctors clear you, you’ll go to court, and the judge will give you a choice between jail and treatment. You don’t have to keep living like this. You can choose differently.”

No, you can’t. You’ve tried treatment. It hasn’t worked, just like overdosing hasn’t worked. You will live to see every result of your wish, and you can’t live with it, no matter how hard you try. The only thing treatment will do is clear your head enough to remember everything you lost. You must be shaking your head, because Tomura’s voice softens even further. “It’s not too late. It’s not too late until you stop breathing, and you’re already breathing better. This might be where you are right now, but you don’t have to stay here, and if you want to live differently, there are people who want to help you. It’s not too late. I swear.”

He keeps talking to you, saying everything and nothing, while you notice that the hand on your shoulder has a ring on its fourth finger. He’s married. Somewhere in the years since your wish changed the world, Tomura got married, and it wasn’t to you. He got his happy ending, and you weren’t part of it. Instead you’re a neuroin addict with close to a dozen overdoses under your belt, and he’s a hero who brought you back because it was the right thing to do. You almost wish he hadn’t. If the batch was tainted, then it wouldn’t have been your fault, and this would finally have been over.

And then something strange happens when the EMTs take you away from him, transferring you onto a stretcher. As he looks down into your face, Tomura’s expression shifts oddly. “Do I know you?” he asks, and your heart lurches. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

He looks like he’s thinking hard about it. Like the answer to that question matters at all. “In another life,” you say, and the paramedics pick up your stretcher and carry you away.

You’re at the courthouse bright and early, but there are so many people waiting for a hearing that you aren’t seen until midafternoon. You lurk in the corner of the courtroom, listening to people being charged with petty theft, possession with intent to distribute, trespassing, disorderly conduct, defacement of property. Nonviolent crimes. The people who are charged with violent crimes are few and far between, and for some reason, the ones who do are the ones with lawyers. You don’t have a lawyer. You’re going to jail – again.

Fine. There’s neuroin in jail if you know where to look, and you always know where to look. You’re dozing off, daydreaming about how creatively you’re going to tell the judge where she can stick her offer of treatment, when someone says your name. Your name, in his voice – of course you’re going to sit up and take notice. “T – um, Endgame. What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you were doing,” Tomura says, and smiles. There’s a sad tinge to it. “Have you had your hearing yet?”

“Um, no. Not yet.” Your mouth is as dry as sandpaper. “Do you usually come to the hearings?”

“No,” Tomura says, and walks away. He’s back a second later, with a paper cup of water that he passes to you. You take a few sips. “If you want the truth, the batch of neuroin you and your friends got ahold of wasn’t the only one that was tainted. There were dozens of overdoses last night, and you’re the only one anybody was able to bring back. So I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Oh,” you say. You wouldn’t call the people you were using with your friends, exactly. The only thing that ties you together is neuroin. Tied you together. Bakugou was right – they’re all gone. “I’m – uh, I’m fine.”

“Did you decide yet?” Tomura asks. “What you’re going to say at your hearing?”

No. You decided to say no, because you’ve been to treatment five times and flunked five times, two times for relapsing, twice for treatment noncompliance, and one time because you lost patience and climbed out the window. But Tomura’s looking at you, with that straight-to-center gaze you remember so well, and he looks so hopeful that you’ll make the right decision. So hopeful that you won’t take away the one win he got last night. You can’t remember the last time you saw Tomura looking that way.

You can’t ruin it. “I think yes. I don’t want to go back to jail.”

Tomura’s smile brightens, and from the front of the courtroom, the bailiff calls your name. You make your way forward. You can’t go back on what you just said to Tomura, not while he’s still here, and when the judge asks the treatment-or-jail question, you opt for treatment. When somebody opts for treatment, the system works fast. There are counselors and caseworkers from the court’s preferred treatment program waiting, and they’re all over you the second your hearing ends.

You thought he’d leave once he heard the answer he was hoping for, but Tomura is still there as the counselors are hustling you out. “Good luck,” he tells you. “I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Thanks,” you say, even though you wish desperately that he hadn’t said it. Now you’ll be wondering if he’s thinking of you, rooting for you, every time you think about dropping out of treatment. “Um, thanks for not giving up on me.”

“I don’t give up on people,” Tomura says, and just like before, his expression shifts as he studies you. “Are you sure we don’t know each other?”

You answer the same as before, this time over your shoulder as your overenthusiastic, overly optimistic caseworker leads you towards the doors. “In another life.”

For you, with treatment, you bail out in one of two phases. The first place is detox, because detoxing off neuroin is actual hell. The only way out of it is through, according to the treatment counselors, but you know there’s a second way – more neuroin – that’s a lot quicker and easier. Of the five times you’ve been to treatment, you’ve dropped out of detox three times. The first two times you snuck out. The second time you climbed out a window, fell fifteen feet, snapped your ankle, and wound up in the ER high out of your mind on legal painkillers. Detox is awful, and there’s nothing waiting for you on the other side. Quitting treatment is the only smart thing to do.

But this time, when you think about quitting, there are two things that get in the way. One of them is the likelihood of getting another bad batch of neuroin, this time without Tomura there to save you. The other is Tomura himself.

You know you won’t see him again. You know he’s married, that he doesn’t care about you any more than the average hero cares about the average person they save, that he doesn’t actually remember you. You just have one of those faces, and maybe he’s seen you in the news after you’ve gotten arrested again for doing something stupid. And at the same time, you promised him you’d try. You don’t want to break a promise to him, even if he’s probably forgotten about it already.

So you grit your teeth and stick it out through detox for the third time, sweaty and nauseous and in agonizing pain. Once your blood tests show that the neuroin’s left your system, the doctors on the medical side of the treatment center offer to put you on methadone, which is basically neuroin without the fun. The last two times you detoxed, you refused it, but this time, you accept. It helps with the withdrawal symptoms, which is good. You’re tired of not being able to eat and sleep.

Detox is the first phase you bail out. The second phase is when you go from quiet time alone with your thoughts to three different treatment groups plus individual therapy per day. You would have hated this anyway – you were never big on sharing your backstory before – but now your backstory is a total blank, because your memories are of what happened before you made your wish. You had to figure out what you’ve been up to through your police reports, which sucks, and it gets you in trouble for not “taking ownership” of all the stuff you did. You can’t exactly explain.

And that’s the problem. That’s always been the problem. Half the time in treatment is spent figuring out why you use and how to cope differently, but you can’t admit why you use without somebody putting you on antipsychotics. You know it sounds insane. But if you’re not honest, you can’t get better, so you’re in a double bind. When you’re sent in to meet your individual counselor for the first time, you’re already so over it that you can barely mumble a hello.

But then you look up. You see who your counselor is, and your jaw drops, because it’s Midoriya Izuku sitting across from you, holding a cheap ballpoint pen and a notebook and staring out at you from behind a pair of glasses with dark frames.

The question explodes out of you before you can stop it. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Midoriya says, like this is normal. Like he’s not the one who killed Tomura and took away the only person who made you happy. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t try that on me. I’ve heard it all before,” you say. The longer you study him, the more confused you get. There are no scars on his hands, no scars on his face. The high school diploma on the wall hanging next to his bachelor’s degree and master’s degree isn’t from UA’s hero course – it’s from General Studies. “Didn’t you want to be a hero?”

Midoriya flinches ever so slightly, and you realize all at once that it’s not just your own life you ruined with your wish. You created a world where Midoriya isn’t All Might’s heir. Which means Midoriya’s quirkless. Which means that he spends every day coping with a dream that didn’t come true. Which, not coincidentally, is exactly the same thing you do, and another stupid question comes flying out of your mouth. “How come you’re not on neuroin?”

Midoriya bursts out laughing at that. “My patients ask me a lot of weird stuff, but I haven’t heard that one before,” he says. “Do you mind if I write it down?”

“Uh, sure.” You watch as Midoriya cracks open his notebook and scribbles something down. You don’t know if it’s your quote or not. “Okay. I was stupid, but – why are you here?”

“And not on neuroin?” Midoriya chuckles. You can tell already that you’re never living this one down. “I wanted to help people. When I was a kid, I thought being a hero was the only way to do that, but it isn’t. And I started thinking that the people who need help the most aren’t the people heroes are helping. There’s something I can do that heroes can’t. So that’s why I’m here. Why are you here?”

“Better here than jail.”

“Right,” Midoriya agrees. “Except this is your sixth time in treatment, and you’ve never made it farther than this room. What is it in here that scares you so much that living on the street and shooting up neuroin seems like a better option?”

You blink. “That’s kind of blunt. Do you talk to all your patients like that?”

“Only the ones who’ve heard it all before,” Midoriya says. Fine. You earned that one. “Seriously. You’ve overdosed nine times. This last one, we were lucky to get you back at all, and they aren’t having any luck finding the person who’s contaminating the supply. This isn’t just about jail or not jail anymore. It’s your life. So I think it’s kind of important to find out why you’d rather risk it out there than talk about it in here.”

Your stomach clenches. “Why do you think?”

“I looked through your files,” Midoriya says, “and both times you made it this far, you referenced something that your intake clinician described as “an elaborate delusional architecture”. You were prescribed risperidone and quetiapine, both of which you declined to take, and you were dropped from the program due to treatment noncompliance. I think we should talk about that.”

“So you can put me on risperidone again?”

“Here’s what I was thinking,” Midoriya says. He sets his notebook aside and leans forward in his chair. “Based on your history, I don’t see evidence that the delusional architecture is actually impacting your ability to function day-to-day. It’s impacting your emotional experience, not your behavior, which means to me that it’s not a problem antipsychotics can fix. Antidepressants, maybe – or mood stabilizers – but I think it would be better if we just talked about it. If you tell me the truth, I’ll make sure they don’t put you on antipsychotics for talking about it.”

“You can do that?” you ask, skeptical. “I thought the psychiatrists ran the show.”

“I see you more often than they do. If I tell them that we’re dealing with a mood disorder or trauma, with psychosis as a secondary concern, they’ll treat the other stuff first,” Midoriya says. That makes sense to you, sort of. You’ve never made it this far in treatment, so you can’t say for sure if he’s full of shit. “Treatment won’t go anywhere if you don’t buy in. If going to bat for you with the prescribers is what it takes, that’s what I’ll do. What you want matters to me.”

Your eyes are starting to burn. “I can’t have what I really want.”

“Okay,” Midoriya says. He picks up his notebook. “Tell me about it.”

You almost refuse. You almost choke down the words, like you’ve done so many times before, because it won’t change anything. But then you think of Tomura, who told you he’s rooting for you. Of Midoriya, sitting right in front of you, whose dream you tore away and who picked up a new dream to replace it. Nothing else you’ve done has worked so far, and you have to live in the world your wish created. Maybe it’s time to try something different.

“You’re crying,” Midoriya says, and you raise your hand to your cheek to find it wet with tears. You didn’t even notice. “It’s okay to take your time. You don’t have to tell me everything today.”

“I can’t. It’s a long story and we only have an hour,” you say. You don’t know where to start, really. Maybe you should just start with yourself. “Um – okay. So once upon a time, there was this kid. She didn’t want to be a villain when she grew up.”

“What did she want to be?”

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay,” Midoriya says again. His face is kind. You remember how he lost that kindness in the world you destroyed and wonder if he ever missed it. If he even knew it was gone. “What happened to her?”

You swallow hard. Wipe away more tears that you didn’t realize you were shedding. And then you tell him everything.

You go to group therapy and talk about early recovery, relapse prevention, mental illness, trauma, and then you go to individual therapy and keep telling Midoriya the story. It gets bigger, bigger than just you, pulling in so many people whose lives might be different now, whose lives you changed or ruined with your wish, who will never know there was something else before. But Midoriya knows, because you’re telling him. He knows you’re holding something back, too.

“You promised you’d tell me the truth,” he reminds you, after you’ve spent forty-five minutes dancing around the question he hasn’t asked directly. Then he asks it. “Was I a hero in your timeline?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t want to tell me about it because you didn’t want to upset me,” Midoriya guesses. You nod. You’re not sure when you stopped hating Midoriya – maybe when you realized that this version of him would have fought to save Tomura instead of killing him. “Elaborate delusional architecture, remember? You know I wanted to be a hero, so you made me a hero in your story. I think that’s really nice.”

Huh. That’s not how you were expecting him to take it, but it makes its own kind of sense. If he’s not going to be upset, then it’s okay for you to keep telling it. “Okay, so All Might was hurt fighting this villain called All For One, and he needed somebody to be his successor. He picked you and gave you his quirk.”

“Gave it to me?”

“His quirk was special. It was called One For All and it could be passed from person to person,” you say. “You were All Might’s successor. But All For One had a successor, too. And that was Tomura.”

“Tomura. That’s who your wish was for,” Midoriya says, and you nod. “Your wish came true, right? Who’s he in our timeline?”

“All For One called him Tomura. He was Tomura when I met him, so that’s what I called him, but that wasn’t his real name. Not the one he was born with.” You’re babbling, stammering. “His real name was Shimura Tenko.”

Midoriya knows who that is. “Endgame,” he says. There’s an odd look on his face. “When did you meet him?”

You tell him that, and whatever else he asks, and although you’re pretty sure he’s planning to use you as a case study at some point, he keeps the prescribers off your back. You decide you don’t want to be on methadone anymore, so you switch to suboxone, which means going through mini-withdrawal and being sick and bitchy and terrible for a day or two. You and Midoriya take a break from the story so you can talk about the decision, and when Midoriya presses you on the answer, you give one you don’t expect. “I don’t want to be chained to a clinic when I get out.”

“You’re planning to graduate treatment,” Midoriya says, and smiles. You nod uncertainly. It feels weird to say that, and to think it, when you’ve been thinking of getting out of here as a countdown to overdosing again. “And you’re interested in having more freedom. Is there something that you’re hoping to do with it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” you say. “Ask me in a couple weeks.”

You complete a couple of your treatment groups and join new ones, and meanwhile, the woman you’ve been sharing your room with graduates. She’s a pro hero who picked up a painkiller addiction after repeated injuries, and the two of you never quite got along. But you wish her well anyway, and she looks you up and down before inclining her head. “Good luck, Seeker. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

People get nicknames in treatment. You never stayed long enough before to find out, but you picked up a nickname – Seeker, for reasons beyond your understanding. The woman who becomes your next roommate has a nickname when she arrives: Skeeter, short for mosquito. “Because she’s annoying?” you ask Birdie, who transferred from the same jail as the new person’s coming from. Birdie shakes her head. “Or something else?”

“She’s crazy,” Birdie says, and lowers her voice. “She drinks blood.”

Toga. Can it really be Toga? You haven’t looked up the other members of the League, too afraid of what you’ll find, but the idea of Toga as your roommate – did Midoriya do this? No, you don’t think so. He says that he’s fine exploring your mind palace, but doesn’t want to rearrange the furniture, which means that it’s a coincidence. The same as it being Twice you were trying to help when you got the injuries that led to your neuroin addiction was a coincidence. The same as it was a coincidence that Tomura’s the one who brought you back from your overdose, just like it’s a coincidence that Midoriya’s the one trying to help you build your life back. When does it stop being a coincidence and start being a pattern?

Your new roommate is there when you get back from group, because she doesn’t have a schedule yet, and it’s pretty clear that she doesn’t want to be there. Toga never got to grow up in your timeline, but she grew up in this one, and she looks like you felt eight years after the end of the war. Tired, angry, hopeless, done. There are bite marks up and down her arms, and that’s what you ask about first. “Did you do those yourself?”

“I need blood.” Toga’s lying on her bed. She rolls to one side, puts her back to you. “Better watch out. I might bite you, too.”

“Would it help?” you ask, and she startles. “My blood is full of suboxone, so it might not taste the best, but –”

“Is it a kink thing?” Toga asks. “Are you weird?”

You laugh in spite of yourself, and you realize how long it’s been since you laughed. “My counselor says I have the most elaborate delusional architecture he’s ever seen. But I’m not that kind of weird.”

“Then why would you give me your blood?”

Because you know her. Because you know how horribly people treated her because of her quirk, when there were other options everywhere if they’d just taken a second to look. Because you know what almost saved her, and why it didn’t work. “It’s not going to kill me. And it might help you get better.”

“I can’t get better,” Toga says. Then, after a little while: “Let me think about it.”

While she’s thinking about it, you bring it up to Midoriya. It turns out that Midoriya keeps files on all the patients’ quirks, and he’s been working on one for Toga since the idea of transferring her from jail to treatment was floated. “It sounds like you’re conceptualizing it like your suboxone,” he says to you. “A harm-reduction measure, which makes sense in theory. But I know where you got this idea. And I’m worried about playing into your delusions.”

“If it’s a good idea, does it matter where it came from?” you ask. It doesn’t matter all that much to you that Midoriya thinks you’re crazy. As long as he thinks you’re functional, it’s fine. “It’s better than her biting herself. Or biting anybody else.”

“Yes,” Midoriya agrees after a second. “I’ll take it up the chain. You know –”

He trails off. “What?” you ask.

“I might have an idea about what you can do after you graduate treatment.”

“Okay,” you say. “What is it?”

“Ask me in a few weeks,” Midoriya says, and you roll your eyes. “Let’s go back to the story. What happened next?”

You’re at the part of the story with Overhaul, where the League ends up messing with the Hassaikai enough to tip the advantage to the heroes during their raid. You were one of the people Tomura loaned out to the Hassaikai, and you remember how much fun you and Toga and Twice had making Irinaka lose his cool. How proud Tomura was of the three of you when you came back. How happy he was to see you, specifically, and how good it felt to know that some part of his lopsided smile was just for you.

You don’t want to talk about that with Midoriya, and luckily for you, there’s a different part of the story he’s interested. “In your timeline, the Shie Hassaikai was responsible for manufacturing Deleter rounds?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Who’s doing it here?”

“They don’t know,” Midoriya says, and your stomach drops. “As far as I’m aware, the Shie Hassaikai has never been considered as a possible source. In this timeline, have you had any contact with the Shie Hassaikai?”

“Nope,” you say. “They don’t sell the stuff I like. And even if they did – no way would I go to them. I’d rather go through withdrawal.”

“Really?”

“No,” you say, and Midoriya snorts. “Why are you so interested in this part? I thought it was just my delusional architecture.”

“It’s an unusual part of it,” Midoriya says. “Most of your delusion can be traced to information that’s publicly available, which means that your mind had a realistic foundation to build on. This is the first thing you’ve told me, other than the part where you added me to the structure and came up with an explanation for All Might’s quirk, that can’t be traced to a particular source – and yet you’re just as sure of it as you are of everything else. It’s just strange.”

“Are you going to tell them to put me on risperidone?” you ask warily.

“No, no,” Midoriya says distractedly. “Just taking a few notes.”

You believe that’s what he’s doing. But at the end of the day’s session, those notes don’t go into your case file. They end up dead center on Midoriya’s desk, and as you shut the door, you see the disquieted look on his face.

“You’re in love,” Himiko tells you as she paints your nails during rec time. “I can smell it.”

You’ve heard her say that before. You shrug, just like you did then, and she pushes the point. “Who is it? Is it your counselor? He’s cute –”

“No,” you say. The idea of dating Midoriya is almost too weird to laugh about. “It’s nobody here. I won’t see them again.”

“Because they’re dead?” Himiko’s mouth turns down. “That’s really sad.”

“Not dead,” you say. All of this happened because you decided that ‘dead’ wasn’t an option when it came to Tomura. “It’s just not possible. He’s with somebody else, and even if he wasn’t, he’d never want someone like me.”

“What does that mean?”

“A drug addict with a criminal record,” you say, and Himiko swats you. “What?”

“That’s not a growth mindset. If I have to use the growth mindset, so do you.” Himiko’s mocking you a little bit, but you kind of deserve it. You’ve been in here for nine months and counting, and you’re turning into a bit of a treatment evangelist. “If you want to be mean to yourself, say it like you’re going to grow from it.”

“Fine. If he was looking for a partner, which he isn’t, my backstory is not compatible with his standards due to my history of substance abuse and criminal activities.” You’re pretty proud of that reframe. It sounds a lot less judgmental like that. “There’s not a point in thinking about it, so I try not to. It is what it is.”

“You feel really strongly for somebody who’s not thinking about it,” Himiko observes. “Most of the time when I smell love on people, it’s like a breeze. Sometimes it’s stronger and sometimes it’s weaker. It sticks around, but it changes. That’s not what I smell from you.”

She quiets down, stroking pale blue nail polish onto your little finger. She made a point of telling you that it’s not your color, but she agreed to put it on you anyway.  “Yours is part of you. It never changes. If someone took it away, you wouldn’t be you anymore. And it’s not usually like that.”

“Are you saying I’m codependent?” You’d buy it. You’re on your third time through Untangling Relationships group therapy, because the counselor in charge thinks you’re not taking it seriously. “Harsh.”

“No, it’s just sad,” Himiko says, which is worse. “To love somebody so much that they’re part of who you are, and for them not to feel the same way.”

“Maybe in another life,” you say, and she kicks you under the table this time. Lightly, though. You can tell she feels bad for you. And you’re not sure she should.

You love Tomura. You’re never going to stop loving him. You loved him so much that you risked it all, made a wish that cost you everything, just so he could have a chance at a long and happy life. He’s gotten that life. That life doesn’t include you, could never include you. And as you work through your groups in treatment and tell Midoriya your story and add day after day onto your clean time, you’re trying to figure out how to build a happy-enough life alongside the truth that you’ll never have what you really want.

That happy-enough life can’t include neuroin. You wouldn’t want it to, even if you could use safely. It has to include something other than moping and wallowing and kicking yourself for believing that Tomura’s happiness would be enough to make you happy, too. In between storytelling sessions, Midoriya’s been doing his best to hammer the idea of meaning-making into your head. Whether your life has meaning or not depends on you. It’s a choice you can make, just like the choice to shoot up was. You can choose for your life to matter. You’re still not sure how.

One day when you get to Midoriya’s office for your individual session, Midoriya’s not alone there. There’s a hero with him, a hero you recognize – Sir Nighteye. You cringe backwards on instinct, half out of shock at seeing him alive instead of dead, and Midoriya hurries to reassure you. “You aren’t in trouble,” he says. “Sir Nighteye just wants to talk to you. About, um –”

“About the Shie Hassaikai,” Sir Nighteye says. “I believe you have some information about them.”

You glare at Midoriya. “I thought our conversations were confidential.”

“Yes,” Midoriya says, “but one of the cases where they aren’t is if you report that a child or someone who can’t care for themselves is being abused or neglected. What you were telling me about – Eri – qualifies.”

You kind of want to strangle him. “Eri is part of my delusional architecture, remember? She’s not real. It’s a waste of time to –”

“Prior to this point, criminals who use Deleter rounds have been scrupulous about removing unspent bullets from the scene,” Nighteye interrupts you. “In the last incident, we went to great lengths to recover an unspent bullet, and were able to test its contents. True to your report, the bullet contained human DNA, harvested from an adolescent girl.”

An adolescent. In your past, Eri was rescued when she was four, or five, or something. She’s a teenager, and no one’s been looking for her. Nobody even knew she was there. Nighteye folds his long fingers together and leans forward to study you. “I don’t know where you got this information, and I don’t care,” he says. “I want to know if you have any more.”

It's quiet for a moment, a moment where your throat goes tight and misery washes over you. There’s one more person whose life you’ve ruined, and compared to what’s happened to you and Midoriya, this is thousands of times worse. No one rescued Eri as a kid, and now she’s a teenager. Who knows what Overhaul’s done to her, or what she’s become in an effort to survive him? They aren’t the same, but you can’t help drawing the comparison – Overhaul to All For One, Eri to Tomura. Your information is thirteen years out of date to when Eri’s rescued in your memories, but if there’s any chance it can help, you have to speak up. “I know some things. Ask me and I’ll do my best.”

It feels almost like it happened to someone else, after so much time – five years in this timeline, and eight years in the one you changed. You give details about the Hassaikai, about the layout of their compound, about who’s likely to be in Overhaul’s inner circle, about where Eri’s being held and what her quirk is. You could spill the entire story, and it still wouldn’t lessen your guilt. For as many people as your wish has saved – Tomura’s alive, Toga’s alive, Twice was still alive eight years after he died in your memories – it’s damned an equal number. You first, then Midoriya, and now Eri. A little kid who should have been saved, but wasn’t. Just like Tomura.

You will live to see every result of your wish. There’s no amount of neuroin in the world that could block it out. That doesn’t mean that you don’t wish for it anyway.

You don’t pay attention to the outside world, but Himiko does, and so do the other women in the treatment program. They watch TV during rec and read magazines when they can get their hands on them, and if they get visitors, like Himiko does from Uraraka Ochako, they make their visitors give them the news. Uraraka Ochako is a pro hero in this timeline, too, and one visiting day, she doesn’t show. Himiko doesn’t really mope, but you can tell she’s hurt, so you try your best to cheer her up. You’re doing her nails for her in the room you share when Birdie hollers from the rec room. “Skeeter! Your friend’s on TV!”

“Huh?” Himiko startles, and you paint her whole fingertip instead of just her nail. “Why? Is she okay?”

“There was this huge drug bust. They’ve got her airlifting this jacked-up yakuza loser out of this sinkhole where their hideout used to be –”

Himiko scrambles off the bed and runs, leaving you to cap the nail polish and take a second to get your shit together. The Shie Hassaikai raid is happening, or just happened – thirteen years later than it should have, but it’s happening. They’ll rescue Eri, if she’s still there to rescue. They’ll take down Overhaul, even if it’s long-overdue. Things are back to the way they should have been, even if it took a while. You don’t need to think about it any further than that. Not about how this proves to Midoriya that your delusional architecture isn’t totally false, or about how Eri’s spent thirteen extra years suffering because of your wish. And definitely not about why the heroes were so fast to crack down on Overhaul when they still haven’t found the source of the tainted neuroin.

You decide not to watch the news. You’ll find out later, and sure enough, Midoriya calls you in for an unscheduled session in the morning. When you get there, he’s alone. No sign of Sir Nighteye, who died during the Hassaikai raid in your memories. “Um, what happened?”

“Sir Nighteye wanted to be here, but he’s recovering from his injuries,” Midoriya says. He looks disturbed as all hell, worse than you’ve ever seen in this timeline or the one you lived through before. “The information you provided proved to be accurate. The heroes were able to accomplish their raid on the Shie Hassaikai with minimal casualties.”

“Oh.” You should be relieved, but you’re too tired – you barely slept last night. “What about Eri?”

“Yes,” Midoriya says. “Among those discovered inside the compound was an older teenage girl, who does answer to Eri. Her appearance is the same as you described. But –”

A chill goes down your spine. “What?”

“She’s angry,” Midoriya says simply. “She should have been saved, and she wasn’t.”

Just like you were afraid of. Just like Tomura. You slump down in your chair, and Midoriya keeps talking. “She was planning to fight, but a hero talked her down. You probably don’t need me to tell you which hero, but –”

“Endgame,” you say. Midoriya nods. That look is still on his face. “What?”

“I’ve been through your records. Again. And no matter where I look, I can’t see where you came up with the information that led to the raid,” Midoriya says. “I looked into your quirk, too. It lets you find hidden things, but you have to know what you’re looking for. And I can’t figure out how you knew to look for Eri.”

You couldn’t. The Shie Hassaikai were tight-lipped as hell when you were embedded with them, probably because Overhaul knew better than to trust Tomura right away, and even while you were in their hideout, you didn’t find out where Eri was hidden until the heroes beat you to it. “So,” Midoriya continues, his voice oddly brittle, “the only conclusion I can come to is that part of your delusional architecture – isn’t. And if one piece of it is true, then that makes me wonder if other parts of it might be true, too.”

“You don’t want to go there,” you say. Midoriya’s gaze snaps from the middle distance back to you. “Why do you think I’m like this? I wasn’t before. Going there turned me into a neuroin addict, and I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, so –”

“In your history, what happened to Eri after she was rescued?” Midoriya cuts you off. “Tell me.”

“They took her to UA,” you say. “Eraserhead looked after her. They needed him to manage her quirk.”

“That’s what their plan is now, too.” Midoriya takes a deep breath, lets it go. “I’m going to argue that she should come here instead. And I need you to tell me what I need to know to win.”

All you can do is stare at him. “I saw your expression when I said she wanted to fight. And you guessed right away that it was Endgame who helped her,” Midoriya says. “I think you’re comparing what happened to her to what happened to Tomura in your memories. What do you think would have helped him more – going to UA and living in the staff dorms while the students his age lived normal lives? Or going somewhere with people who could help him recover, around people who understand some of what he’d gone through?”

You’re pretty sure Tomura would have started biting people if he’d been rescued from All For One at age eighteen and dropped off at UA. You met him when he was nineteen, and he was already enraged, the hurt and confusion and fear that he admitted later buried completely under anger. Would treatment have helped him? You don’t know. But you think he’d have been better off around people who understood why he had a problem with heroes than he would have been around a bunch of hero kids.

“Here,” you say. Midoriya nods. “If she’s like him, she’s not just angry, she’s hurt. She might not feel rejected like he did, but she probably feels forgotten. Maybe she feels like she deserves it because her quirk can hurt people – like she’s dangerous, or like she ruins everything she touches. Her social skills are probably – not good.”

“We have groups for that,” Midoriya says, and you manage a weak laugh. “My one reservation is you. Based on my understanding of your – um – memories, you see yourself as responsible for what’s happened to her, and I’m concerned that seeing her on a regular basis in what’s previously been a safe space for you will have a negative impact on your recovery.”

Your instinct is to argue, because you usually argue with Midoriya when it comes to what you can or can’t handle, but like you’ve been doing recently, you force yourself to stop and think. You had such a hard time handling what your wish did to you that you became a neuroin addict. You’ve been able to cope with what you did to Midoriya, since he’s the one who killed Tomura and he thought you were crazy up until today, but Eri had nothing to do with what led you to make your wish. Seeing what happened to her because of you is going to be awful.

But the world is awful. If you ever want to get out of here and live a life that matters, you’re going to have to cope with that, and even just Himiko being here is enough to keep you from leaving. If you took away the happy life Eri had being raised by Eraserhead and Present Mic, you owe her a place to heal. And you owe it to her not to look away.

“I can hack it,” you say. “This is the right place for both of us to be.”

Midoriya nods. He looks relieved and not, sort of like you feel – the right thing is happening, but you’re really ambivalent about it. “About your memories –”

“Don’t go there,” you say. “It’s just a story.”

It’s quiet for a moment. “Just a story,” Midoriya agrees, and he picks up his notebook. Some snarl of tension in your shoulders and the back of your neck relaxes. “Right.”

“Remember,” Himiko’s counselor says to you and the others, all settled into the common area, “this is supposed to be fun. If you don’t like the thing you made, don’t beat yourself up about it, and don’t compare it to what everybody else is making. If all you want to do is color, that’s fine. This is about finding things you enjoy, that bring you peace.”

“Origami doesn’t bring me peace. It makes me want to bite things.”

“You don’t have to do origami,” Himiko’s counselor says patiently. “We’ve got lots of options. Just try to do something fun.”

The newest patient, a tiny woman who hasn’t stopped crying yet, blows her nose. “I can’t have fun without my Gentle.”

“Suck it up, honey,” Birdie says from the other side of the circle. “Some of us used to get high for fun, and you don’t hear us complaining.”

You know she’s referring to you. Everybody here has issues, but you’re the only addict, even if the yoga master who comes in twice a week insists that everyone’s addicted to something. “Speak for yourself. If I get a paper cut, I’m going to bitch the roof down.”

“Guys,” Himiko’s counselor says again, over the sound of Birdie’s cackling. You think her name is Nakayama. “Let’s try to keep it low-key. Everybody’s under a little more stress tonight.”

“Yes,” Digit mumbles, sipping from a cup of flavored water that you and everybody else are pretending contains tea. “The zookeepers are coming.”

Right. The treatment center’s pitch for Eri to come here instead of UA was successful enough that she’s coming here for a tour – and she’s bringing the pros she’s most comfortable with as moral support. “Let’s not look at it that way,” Nakayama suggests. “We’ve got visitors coming today, because a potential new patient is touring. It’s more about her than it is about all of you.”

“How come she gets to tour this place?” Jinx complains. “I just got chucked in here.”

“If she comes here, you’ll all be here for the same reason,” Nakayama says. She’s really calm. You can see why she and Himiko work well together; Himiko needs somebody who can take her crazy without being sucked into it, and Nakayama has ice water in her veins. “The purpose of this place is to help you recover –”

“And live our best lives?” Hyena asks. She’s another pro hero, just like Digit and Jinx – somebody who veered off the path at some point and wound up in the deep end. You remember her, you think – one of Endeavor’s sidekicks. Now she wears her flaming hair short and spiky. “Sure.”

“I’d settle for a life that means something,” you say, and she looks at you. “That would be good enough for me.”

“I think it’s possible to have both,” Nakayama says. “All right. Everyone pick something to do. You can talk if you’d like, but there’s no pressure. Just try to find something you’ll enjoy.”

You might need to up your suboxone, because you’re thinking about how much you’d enjoy a hit of neuroin to settle your nerves. You’ve got coping skills for that, sure, but neuroin is faster – and you need it fast, because Midoriya gave you a heads-up at your session this morning about just who Eri’s bringing with her. All Might will be here. Eraserhead will also be here. Bubble Girl will be here, which you couldn’t care less about – but Endgame will be here, too, and the idea of seeing him again makes you want to hide.

You are hiding, sort of. You’ve got on a sheet mask, from a care package Himiko got from Uraraka, and you’re sitting with your back to the door so you won’t see the others first thing when they come in. You’re doing origami, because you suck at origami. It’s a good reason to keep your eyes down. The question pops into your head, like it’s been doing all day, of whether Tomura will remember you, and you acknowledge it before firmly pushing it to the side. It won’t matter if Tomura remembers you or not if he never gets a good look at your face.

“Hey,” Birdie says after a little while, “aren’t we giving the wrong impression about this place? It looks like a sleepover in here.”

“Yeah.” Himiko looks up from her work. “I’ve been on a lot of locked wards, and this is the squishiest locked ward I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s a friendlier environment,” Nakayama agrees. “The purpose here is treatment and recovery, not punishment.”

Hyena makes a disbelieving noise. “If that’s true, then you’ve got way too many criminals here.”

An awkward silence falls. “I mean, she’s a pathetic criminal’s sidekick,” Hyena says, pointing to the new girl, who bursts into tears again. Nakayama tries to shush her, but she keeps talking. “And then over here we’ve got a murderer, a fraudster, and a drug addict. I think a little punishment’s in order.”

“Does it help?” you ask. Hyena gives you a derisive look. “I mean it. Nobody here is running away from the stuff we’ve done. Does it make you feel better to bring it up?”

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings?”

“No,” you say, and mean it. The bar somebody would have to clear to hurt your feelings these days is pretty damn high. “I just want to know. You’re a hero, and your job is to help people. When did we stop being people to you?”

Hyena opens her mouth, then closes it again, and an even more awkward silence settles into the place where her retort was meant to go. “I think,” Nakayama starts, then coughs. “I think it might be a good idea to –”

The double doors at the far end of the common area open, and all of you freeze at the sound of footsteps. The next thing you hear is Midoriya’s chattering. “You’ll see some of the patients in here. I think they’re having art group, so – um – maybe you should wait a second so I can explain –”

There’s a lighter set of footsteps, breaking into a run, and before you or anyone else can say something, a tall, stick-thin girl with long grey-white hair and red eyes drops down into the circle across from you. “Are you guys the criminals? What did you do?”

The hero patients instantly start protesting that they aren’t criminals, and while Nakayama and Midoriya try to settle them down and Eri watches with clear disdain, you take the opportunity to watch her. In some ways, you see exactly what you were scared to see – she reminds you so much of Tomura, not so much in her appearance but in the way she’s tense with anger, the way one hand winds into a fist to yank at her hair. Her forearms are covered with scars instead of bandages, and even though they’ve probably been feeding her more in the hospital, her face is still hollow. She looks awful. Just like he did.

And at the same time, you’re relieved. She didn’t back away when she saw people; she jumped in, even if it was a mess. Tomura did the same thing with the League of Villains, and there was hope for him, even if the rest of the world refused to see it. There’s hope for her, too.

You clear your throat, and she looks at you, her gaze hot enough to burn holes through you. Like she knows you’re guilty. Like she knows it’s your fault. “Hi,” you say. “Sorry. We’re the criminals.”

You gesture at your side of the circle – why didn’t you realize there were sides until just now? – and Eri’s gaze follows your hand. “What did you do?” she asks again. “I want to know.”

“I’m a hooker,” Birdie announces. “I slept with guys and stole their identities so I could buy myself food and rent rooms instead of sleeping on the street.”

“And?” Sugimura, her counselor, prompts from where she’s standing with the tour group.

“And I bought myself designer shit,” Birdie says, rolling her eyes. “And I’m not sorry.”

Hyena snorts. “She’s gonna be here a while.”

Eri ignores her, focusing in on the new girl. “What about you?”

“She arrived recently, and she’s still adjusting,” Nakayama says. Apparently she’s decided to roll with whatever’s going on here. “It can be a bit of a shock.”

“You have couches and nobody’s cutting you up. Some shock,” Eri says. It says something awful that she puts having a couch and not being tortured on the same level, but she’s transferring her almost-accusing stare onto Himiko now. “What about you?”

“I killed people.”

“How many?”

“Twelve,” Himiko says. Eri’s eyebrows lift. “Then I got caught. I was in prison for a while, but then they moved me here so I could rehabilitate.”

“You’re allowing a multiple murderer to rehabilitate?” Eraserhead says to Midoriya. He sounds about as disdainful as the others. “That’s a serious lapse in judgment.”

“She was underage when she committed her crimes and she was underage when she was captured,” Midoriya says. You’re impressed he’s standing up to Eraserhead. Then again, Eraserhead’s not his teacher. “We evaluated her and determined that there was room for growth, and she’s made a lot of progress in the four months she’s been here.”

“I don’t even want to kill anybody anymore,” Himiko says. “I get all the blood I need.”

Eraserhead coughs, but Eri doesn’t blink. She looks away from Himiko, aims her gaze at you. “What did you do?”

“A ton of neuroin,” you say. “Other stuff, too. But mainly neuroin.”

She studies you for a moment, and you hold her gaze. You owe her that much, even if looking at her makes you feel sick with guilt. “Sensei hated people like you,” she says, and it takes all your dubious self-control not to flinch at hearing Tomura’s name for All For One fall from her lips. “That’s why he tried to kill you all.”

“He – what?” Tomura. That’s Tomura’s voice. You shrink down, and Himiko seizes your arm in excitement, which is how you know she’s figured you out. You’re never going to know another second’s peace, but that’s the least of your worries now. “What are you saying? Was – Sensei – the one who was tainting the neuroin?”

You wonder if you’re imagining the way Tomura’s voice tripped on the word. Probably. Eri is nodding. “He didn’t have to add anything to it. His quirk let him move the molecules around however he wanted,” she says. Her expression shifts into thoughtfulness. “There was somebody who helped with it. Somebody big. They didn’t want drug addicts in their world.”

That doesn’t sound like All For One, which was your first thought. Who does it sound like? Before you can search your memories in earnest, Eri’s speaking to you again. “Do you know what my quirk is?” she asks. You nod. You can’t remember if you’re supposed to know or not, but you figure Midoriya will help you cover. “Why aren’t you scared?”

She reaches out, and you hear quick footsteps as Eraserhead approaches, but you don’t flinch. “It’s just a quirk,” you say. “All that matters is how you use it.”

“That’s what Endgame says,” Eri says. You wish your sheet mask covered your whole face, not just most of it. It’s a relief when she looks away, around at the art supplies. “What’s all this stuff?”

The disdain is back in her voice. “Art supplies,” you say. “Want to join?”

Eri blinks. “You should,” Himiko urges. “None of us are any good, and we don’t care. It’s just for fun.”

You wonder if Eri knows what fun is. Tomura didn’t, really. The best he could do was distinguish between more angry and less angry, lonely or not lonely, itchy and itchier. The first time you heard him laugh, you felt like you were on top of the world. “Come on,” Birdie adds. “Make some shitty origami.”

“You’re welcome to if you’d like,” Nakayama says gently. “There’s plenty of space for you here.”

For a moment, you think Eri will bolt. Then she settles in and picks up a sheet of origami paper, the same color as the one you’re holding. “Show me how to make that.”

You’re folding the world’s shittiest paper crane. You unfold what you’ve done so far so you can start flat, then make the first fold again, watching as Eri copies you and trying not to listen to the rest of the tour group. “I don’t care if she fits in here,” Eraserhead is saying quietly. “You’re playing into how she already views herself – as a criminal and a monster.”

“Maybe that’s how you look at criminals and villains. That’s not how we look at them here,” Midoriya says. He’s probably sweating bullets. You know All Might’s lurking in the offing. “Our patients are people, same as you. They deserve a chance to recover, if they want it, and the ones who are here want it a lot. The recidivism rate for patients in this program is lower than for people released from prison.”

“Our goal is to support the patients in healing from whatever led them here,” Sugimura says. She’s the oldest of the counselors, the one in charge. It hasn’t escaped your notice that most of the counselors here are young. “Taking accountability for what they’ve done is part of that, but not the only part.”

“What about schooling?” All Might asks. He’s trying to talk quietly, too, but if you remember right, All Might’s voice comes in the same volumes as Present Mic’s – loud and louder. “If she were at UA, her education –”

“Some of our patients also need to finish their compulsory education. She can study with them,” Midoriya says eagerly. You’re pretty sure he’s talking about you and Himiko, and the idea of going back to school is news to you. “There are a lot of ways to meet Eri’s needs, whatever they turn out to be.”

“Maybe we should see where she’d be staying,” Tomura suggests. “I saw the place she was before. It can’t look like that.”

“Right,” Midoriya agrees. He hurries over to where you and the others are sitting. “Um, Eri, would you like to –”

“I’m not done with my crane.”

“I’ll keep an eye on it. You can finish it when you get back,” you say. “Go check the rest of the place out.”

You’re expecting Eri to tell you to eat shit, but instead she hesitates for a moment before sliding the crane over to you. You set it carefully on the table and out of the way, and Eri gets unsteadily up and joins Midoriya. As the heroes pass, heading for the doors on the other side of the common area, you keep your head down again. You don’t want Tomura to look at you. As bad as it would be if he recognized you as the overdose victim he guilt-tripped into treatment, it would be worse if he didn’t recognize you at all.

“Aren’t you coming?”

That’s his voice, but he’s not talking to you. You know damn well he’s not talking to you, so your heart shouldn’t twist like this. “No,” Bubble Girl says. You’d almost forgotten about her. “Some of my friends are here.”

“Suit yourself.” You picture Tomura shrugging. The double-doors close again, and a moment later, Bubble Girl is on the other side of the circle, giving hugs to Hyena and Jinx and Digit.

You find yourself unconsciously scooting away, and Himiko and Birdie are doing the same thing, dragging the new girl along by default. Nakayama catches your eye. “Is this happening for a reason?”

“Just giving them their space,” you say, moving Eri’s half-finished crane carefully to your side of the table. “Nothing weird.”

Bubble Girl and the others are all talking over each other, laughing and giggling in a way that tells you heroes never change. The likelihood that Hyena and the others actually face their problems is zero – they’re going to do their time and get out and go back to being the same fake, morally bankrupt figureheads they’ve always been. Hyena thought it was okay to humiliate you and the others, but she’ll never acknowledge that her treatment of criminals was bad enough to land her here. You and Himiko and the others have to reflect. They get away with it.

Finally they quiet down a bit, and Hyena’s voice picks up above the others. “No offense, Awata, but what the hell is up with your man’s hair?”

“I have no idea,” Bubble Girl says. “It looked so nice before, but he started growing it out, and now he won’t cut it. Even if I ask him to.”

“Did you ask him nicely?” Hyena asks. “On your knees?”

Birdie makes a disgusted sound, then hides it in a cough. “Shut up,” Bubble Girl says, but she’s giggling. “It looks crazy. I’ll tell him you agree.”

“Did he say why?” Jinx asks.

“No! I keep telling him I hate it, but he won’t cut it, and he won’t say why not!” Bubble Girl heaves a dramatic sigh and flops forward onto the table, almost flattening Eri’s crane. You move it even further away. “You really don’t know somebody until you marry them. I had no idea Tenko was this weird.”

That one takes a second to land, but once it does, you’re fucked. You take a second to try to recover, determine that it’s hopeless, and try to get up, only for Himiko to grab your arm and yank you back down. You look askance at her, but she’s not looking your way – just holding on so tightly that you can’t break her grip without breaking her fingers. What’s her problem? You need to throw up. Failing that, you need to cry, and you can’t do it here. Bubble Girl. Tomura married fucking Bubble Girl, and you can’t sit here and listen to her bitch about his hair.

So much for being stable in recovery. If there was a syringe of neuroin sitting on the table in front of you instead of a paper crane, you’d shoot up right now, even if you knew Overhaul had doctored it specifically to kill you and every other neuroin addict in Japan. The veins in your arms are shot, scarred to hell and back, but your jugular vein’s practically virginal. You can imagine exactly how it would feel – a sharp sting, a rush of cold, and relief. For however long it lasted. You’d take it, even if it was just a split second.

You will live to see every result of your wish. Right. Go fuck yourself. You want to die.

But Himiko’s yanking on your hand, and when you look up, you see a piece of paper in front of you. Her handwriting is cute, if hard to read, and while you’re trying to decipher it, Digit speaks up. “I’m surprised you’re here,” she says. “I thought places like this creeped you out.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t come to see us before,” Hyena says. There’s a weird edge to her voice. “What gives?”

“I’ve been meaning to! I’m just busy,” Bubble Girl says. Himiko is yanking on your arm like she’s trying to dislocate your elbow. “Honestly, I’m here for Ten. He says he’s here for Eri – and he is – but he’s looking for somebody, and if he doesn’t find her, it’ll mess him up.”

“Who?”

“Some junkie,” Bubble Girl says, and you freeze in Himiko’s grip. “He got stuck on street patrol one of those nights where everybody was overdosing, and he only got one person back. Losing people always hits him hard, so he’s like – fixated. He actually went to court the next morning to try to talk her into treatment.”

She’s talking about you. You left enough of an impression on Tomura that his wife knows about you. “I tried telling him that it’s not on him,” Bubble Girl continues. “All those addicts care about is their next hit, so she probably dipped out of treatment the second everybody looked away – but Ten’s convinced she’s different. He’s so naïve sometimes.”

He’s not naïve. Tomura believes in people. He believes in people who everybody else has given up on, just like Midoriya does this time around. You risk lifting your eyes from your crane and find Nakayama looking at you, a question on her face. You shake your head. As much of a shock value as there’d be to revealing that you’re the junkie in question, you don’t want Bubble Girl to know it’s you. And somehow you don’t think pushing back on Bubble Girl’s opinions on drug addicts is a winning strategy.

Himiko is still yanking on your arm. “Stop it,” you say. “I’m gonna hurl.”

“Read what I wrote you,” she hisses. You focus on the piece of paper she slid in front of you, put all your effort into deciphering her handwriting, and read the message: She doesn’t love him as much as you do.

Does she think that will make you feel better? Of course you love Tomura more than Bubble Girl does. You love Tomura enough to alter history, even at a cost that’s been torturous to pay. You’ve loved Tomura through living on the street, spending weeks or months in jail or prison, through neuroin overdose after neuroin overdose and withdrawal and nine months of inpatient treatment. She can’t love him more than you do. No one could.

And it doesn’t matter. He loves her. That’s the ballgame. He loves her, and he never met you until it was too late, and even if it hadn’t been too late, he’d never have looked your way. You might be trying to get better, but the heroes are right – you’re just some junkie. That’s all you’ll ever be.

But you can hear Midoriya’s voice in your head, reminding you that you’re more than what you’ve been through, what you’ve done. Tomura’s voice, telling you that it’s not over until you stop breathing, and you’re already breathing better. And as much as you try to stifle it, there’s the proof Bubble Girl just gave you: Tomura has been thinking about you, talking about you. Enough that his wife knows. And when he comes back in here, you can show him something he’ll be happy about – you, doing better. Recovering. It doesn’t matter if his wife thinks you’re just a junkie. What Tomura thinks is all that matters.

You finish your paper crane, then get to your feet and walk to the trashcan. You peel off the sheet mask and drop it inside. Your skin probably looks like shit, but you’re still here, and you’re sober. Bubble Girl can go to hell. You’re still floored that out of all the people Tomura could have married, he married her.

When the tour group comes back through the common area, it’s with good news, at least for the treatment team: Eri’s going to stay here. She’ll be a patient like all of you, except with significantly more freedom, because she’s not a criminal or a disgraced hero completing a mandatory treatment program. You have a feeling that your treatment program and Himiko’s are about to change, given that Midoriya apparently has his eye on you as schoolmates for Eri. Maybe it won’t be the worst thing.

All Might has to leave, and so does Bubble Girl, allegedly. She says an abrupt goodbye to her friends, plants a kiss on Tomura’s cheek through her weird mask, and books it. So much for sticking around to support her husband. Eraserhead has more questions for Midoriya, and Eri comes back to finish her paper crane. Tomura lingers, looking around at the common area, almost restless. You watch him out of the corner of your eye for a while, trying to work up your courage. Then you realize you don’t have any. You get up from the table and head for the water fountain, staying squarely in his eyeline, waiting for him to look your way.

He recognizes you instantly. His face lights up in a way that’s all kinds of bad for you, and as he crosses the room to you, there’s almost a spring in his step. You see what Hyena meant about his hair – it’s past his chin, approaching his shoulders. More like you remember it, and the question pops out of your mouth before he can say a word. “Your hair’s longer.”

“Yeah,” Tomura says. He raises one hand and scratches lightly at his neck, and déjà vu mixed with nostalgia hits you like a breaking wave. “My wife hates it.”

Your coping skills must be pretty good, because you don’t quite throw up – but not as good as they could be, because you could still really go for some neuroin. “Do you like it?”

Tomura blinks. “I do,” he says after a second. “I feel more like me this way.”

Because it’s how he used to be. He feels more like himself because he is more like himself, more like the man he was before you changed history. That man died young. Tomura is thirteen years older than that man ever got to be. “Look at you, though,” Tomura says, changing the subject. “You look like you feel better.”

“I hope so. The last time you saw me I was coming off an overdose.” It’s hard to keep your voice light, airy. To pretend this conversation isn’t killing you. “I’ve been here for nine months. I think it’s going okay.”

“You’re still here. I think it’s going great,” Tomura says. His voice is warm, proud, and you’ve heard that voice before, so you believe it. “I meant it, when I said I was rooting for you.”

“I know.” You can’t hold his gaze any longer. You look away. “Thanks.”

“Hey,” Tomura says. With your eyes down, you see his hand lift as if to reach for you, then fall back to his side. “I still feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

“You have. This is the third time we’ve met.”

“No, before that,” Tomura says. He’s not quite frowning. “Are you sure –”

“Shimura.” Eraserhead appears at Tomura’s side, and you take a quick step or three back. “Counselor Midoriya’s informed me that visiting hours are over. It’s time to go.”

“Right.” Tomura nods, and Eraserhead sets off to say goodbye to Eri. Tomura lingers for a second longer. “I almost had it. Where I know you from.”

“In another life,” you say, and Tomura smiles halfway. Three times is an inside joke, almost, even if you never see him again. If you never see him again, there are things you want to say. “What you do out there matters, even if other people don’t take it seriously. Keep not giving up on people – like you didn’t give up on me.”

“I haven’t given up on you,” Tomura corrects. “I’m still rooting for you.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You’re worried you might cry. “If your hair makes you happy, you shouldn’t cut it.”

Tomura laughs, startled. His laughter’s still a little rusty, and you love it just as much as always. “Thanks,” he says. Eraserhead calls out to him sharply, already at the doors, and just like that, he’s gone.

Eri is staring at you again. Eri does a lot of staring. You’re supposed to let it happen, since she’s trying to get used to being around people who aren’t Overhaul and his creepy friends, but you’ve set up a policy of your own. If she stares at you for longer than thirty seconds, she’s supposed to ask about whatever she’s staring at, and you’re approaching the deadline. She speaks up as it’s ticking past. “What are those?”

“On my arms?” It’s one of those spring days where the weather’s warm but the central heating hasn’t switched off yet, and you have your sleeves pushed up for the first time in a while. You hold out your arms to show her, and she leans closer for a look. “Track marks.”

She glances up at you, puzzled. “I used to shoot up,” you explain. You think it’s safe to say ‘used to’. You’ve got almost a year of clean time. “Sometimes the punctures got infected, or I used the same one too many times and the vein collapsed. My circulation is kind of bad now, and I’ve got these scars. Anybody who sees me in short sleeves is going to know what I used to do.”

“They’ll judge you,” Eri says. You nod. “Just like they do.”

The heroes liked Eri at first, until Eri made it clear just how much she doesn’t like the heroes. Part of you thinks that’s your fault, too. You got in good with Eri early on, somehow, and through you, she made friends with the other criminals. Once she saw how the heroes talked about you all, treated you all, she became roughly as anti-heroics as Tomura used to be. You spent a week or so in individual therapy wailing to Midoriya about how you ruin everything before you got your shit back together.

It’s not the same as with Tomura. Eri has people around her who want to help, who want her to get better. And it’s not like she’s not having any positive contact with heroes. The daily schoolwork you and she and Himiko do is taught by a regular teacher, but Eri gets electives, and almost all of them are taught by pros. Not to mention visitors. Eri gets visitors every night if she wants them, and at least once a week, All Might and Endgame stop by.

You always make sure you’re somewhere else. You don’t want to see Tomura with his hair grown out, with a wedding ring on his finger. Midoriya tells you that part of being successful in early recovery is not making things any harder for yourself than they need to be, and since nothing makes you want to use quite so much as being near the person you love most in the world, who’s permanently out of your reach, staying away from Tomura is the smart thing to do.

You know that. Midoriya knows that. Anybody you were honest about things with would agree, and when Midoriya gave you permission to avoid Tomura as much as possible, you still pushed back. “But avoiding’s not a long-term strategy, right? I can’t just avoid him forever.”

“That’s true. Sometimes there are situations where triggers can’t be avoided,” Midoriya agreed. “At the same time, when they can be avoided, they should be. And since Endgame represents the source of your pain –”

He doesn’t represent it. He is it. “Yeah. I should stay away.”

And you have, for the most part. Himiko usually goes to hang out with them, but you take the time alone in your room to think, or to study. You need to study. You’re coming up on a year in the program, a year sober, and that means you’re eligible for discharge – and you don’t want to leave. That means you need to find a way to stay. And that starts with finally finishing high school.

“Don’t you care?” Eri asks, and you realize you’ve zoned out. “About what people think?”

“I’ve been a villain since I was eighteen,” you say. “I missed the boat on that one a while ago.”

“I thought you had to have a quirk to be a villain.”

“I have one,” you say. It doesn’t come up very much, because it’s pretty useless, but you’ve got one. “It’s called Find. If I know what I’m looking for, I feel kind of a pull towards it. Like when people play that hot and cold game.”

Eri frowns. “What’s that?”

“Um – you’re looking for something, or trying to guess something. When you get closer to it, the person who knows what it is – or where it is – tells you that you’re getting warmer. So I feel it like that. It’s kind of useless.”

“No it isn’t,” Eri says, frowning. “Could you find people with it?”

“Yes.” You used it to find the entity that granted your selfish, impossible wish. It took you three years, but it worked. Something occurs to you. “I have to know what I’m looking for to find it. I didn’t know –”

“Nobody knew to look for me.” Eri still sounds bitter when she says it. “Even if you had, nobody would have listened to you.”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t make you feel any better, but it’s true. “It sucks.”

“It’s the heroes’ fault,” Eri says, and you glance at her. “They could have made you a hero and you could have helped people. But they put you in jail and made you a neuroin addict.”

“Nobody made me take neuroin,” you say. Eri rolls her eyes. “I hear you, though. Maybe it would have been better if they’d made me do something useful with my quirk instead of just stealing stuff.”

Or finding neuroin. You used your quirk to find a lot of neuroin. Eri still look dissatisfied. “It’s stupid,” she says. “Don’t you ever just want to –”

“Go crazy?” you ask.  She nods, and she reminds you so much of Tomura that it hurts. “I’ve seen where that ends. I’m trying something different. What do you want to do?”

“I haven’t done anything yet,” Eri says.

“Yeah. That’s why it’s so important,” you say. “You’re not like me. You haven’t made any mistakes yet. You can do whatever you want to do. So – what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” Eri says, and you nod. “I want to watch Sinister tonight when my visitors show up. And I want you to come too.”

Eri’s been developing some likes and dislikes. She really likes sugar and sweet foods. She really likes music, and one of the heroes who tutors her is teaching her to play guitar. She really likes origami, and she’s better at it than you. And she also really likes horror movies – the old, weird ones. You know it freaks the treatment team out a little bit, but they’re trying to give her as much autonomy as possible. “It’s nice of you to invite me, but I have to study.”

“English, right? We can play the movie in English with the subtitles on.” Eri is staring at you. “Skeeter is coming. And Honey. Why won’t you?”

“I really need to study.”

“You have to come,” Eri counters. “Otherwise I won’t feel like you’re supporting me.”

That strikes you as pretty manipulative, or guilt-trippy, or something. When you glance at Eri, you can’t tell what way she meant it. “My counselor says he really wants me to focus on school,” you say. “I’ll ask him what he thinks when I see him today. If he says yes, I’ll go.”

“Good,” Eri says confidently. “He’ll say yes.”

You’re not so sure, but you promise yourself you’ll give it a shot, and when Eri looks away, you roll your sleeves back down. You’ve been practicing being open about your scars so she’ll be more comfortable being open about hers. But her scars aren’t her fault. Nothing about what’s gone wrong in her life is her fault. Almost everything that’s gone wrong in your life is yours.

Your appointment with Midoriya is his last one of the day, and when you go in there, you’re expecting him to be alone. He isn’t, and just like you did the first day when you realized your counselor was someone who hated you in your real history, you recoil back against the door hard enough to jar your teeth in your head. “You aren’t in trouble,” All Might says, but you’re not buying shit from him. You look at Midoriya, panicked, but he’s avoiding your eyes. “I just want to talk.”

“About what?” You hate All Might. You want to hate All Might – but All Might in the new history did what All Might in your timeline should have done, saving Tomura instead of forgetting about him. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“The tip regarding the Shie Hassaikai came from you,” All Might says. “I came to see if there’s anything – else.”

“About the Shie Hassaikai?”

There’s an uncomfortable silence. “I was led to believe,” All Might starts, then clears his throat. “I was led to believe that you might know something about the Hero Killer.”

It takes a second for that one to hit, and once it does, you turn to glare at Midoriya. “Are we just pretending confidentiality doesn’t exist now?”

“Someone’s life is in danger,” Midoriya says. “I’m obligated –”

“That only counts if I’m the one who’s going to kill someone,” you snap. “And I might be, if you keep telling people!”

“I’m sorry,” Midoriya says. “I shouldn’t have broken your trust. But if there’s something you can do to help someone, you should. I’ve heard you say that.”

“Yeah, when it would actually help,” you say. “You guys have had the Hero Killer in custody for years. What the fuck do you think I can help with?”

All Might glances at Midoriya. “I thought you were joking,” he says. Midoriya shakes his head, and All Might turns back to you, the look in his blue eyes wary. “The Hero Killer has never been in custody. Very few people have seen him and lived, and of those, none have gotten a clear enough look to describe him. He’s killed more than forty heroes, including hero students, and maimed a dozen more.”

“And what do you think I can do about it?” you snap. “Did Midoriya tell you I’m crazy? I’ve got this elaborate delusional architecture going on. You can’t trust anything I say.”

“What you told Sir Nighteye was accurate,” All Might says. “If you were correct once, you could be correct again. You can help save people’s lives.”

You think of what Eri said. Of what you could actually do to help people. It’s not ratting out the Hero Killer. “Heroes’ lives. Why should I save them? So you all can keep chasing fame and fortune by beating up people like me? You aren’t in it to help people. You’re in it for money or fame or power. He’s right about you.”

All Might frowns. “The Hero Killer’s never released a manifesto.”

Right – the Hero Killer’s message only got out because he was arrested. He hasn’t been arrested here, which means you sound crazy. Or like you really do know something. “I’m sure he’s got his reasons.”

Midoriya is glaring at you. Like he has any right to glare at you, when he’s the one spilling your secrets to get All Might to pay attention to him. “Even if the Hero Killer has his reasons, not all heroes are like you say,” he says. “There’s no telling which heroes he’ll hurt.”

Every muscle between your jaw and your abdomen tenses up in an instant, making it hard to breathe. Why didn’t you think of that? The Hero Killer hurt Tomura even in your memories, when they were both villains, but Tomura’s a hero now, and Stain would kill him without a second thought. All Might seems to sense that you’re wavering. “Anything you might know would be helpful,” he says. “I don’t need to know how you know it.”

Great. You struggle to unlock your jaw enough to speak. “I know his name, but it won’t help you find him.”

“Share it, please.”

“Akaguro. Akaguro – um, Chizome.” You remember watching the Hero Killer video with Tomura. He Decayed his phone halfway through. “His quirk – it lets him paralyze somebody if he tastes their blood. It doesn’t last forever.”

“How long does it last?”

“Long enough to make a difference.” For you all, at least. If Stain had been serious about killing you and Tomura, Kurogiri was paralyzed more than long enough to make escape impossible. “That’s all I know.”

“You mentioned his reasons,” All Might says. You don’t answer. “Say more.”

You try to remember all the stuff Spinner and Dabi said about Stain when they’d get into their bullshit sessions about who understood his ideas the best. “He thinks being a hero is about sacrifice. And about doing things for others with no expectation of payment. He thinks that once people take money for doing heroics, they stop being heroes, so he hates them all. The only one he doesn’t hate is you.”

“Me,” All Might repeats. You nod. “Why?”

“He says you’re a true hero. And only a true hero is worthy of killing him.”

“I don’t want to kill him,” All Might says. A shadow crosses over his face, and you wonder if he’s thinking about All For One, who he must have killed for real. “Violence only begets more violence.”

Tomura said that. You remember Tomura saying that. Since when does All Might – “In your opinion,” All Might starts, and you snap out of it, “I would have the best chance of bringing him in alive.”

“Just kill him,” you say. All Might looks surprised. So does Midoriya. “If you’re just going to stick him in Tartarus, dead is better.”

“Were you –” Midoriya breaks off, scribbles something in his notes. “Never mind. We’ll get there. Um, sir – All Might – do you have any other questions for my patient?”

All Might shakes his head. “Thank you,” he says to you. “If your information leads to the Hero Killer’s capture, you’ll receive the same reward as last time.”

That’s news to you. “There was a reward?”

“Yes,” All Might says, frowning. “As thanks for your cooperation with the investigation of the Shie Hassaikai, the government has expunged two of your felony convictions from your criminal record.”

You have four felony convictions. Had. If he’s telling the truth – and you can’t figure out why he’d lie to you after you gave him the information he asked for – you only have two left. It’s been months since the Hassaikai raid, and Midoriya must have known. Why didn’t he tell you? Somewhere in your stunned silence, All Might nods to you and leaves, and it’s a little while before you recover the power of speech.

By the time you do, Midoriya’s already braced himself. Good. “You’ve got some fucking nerve,” you spit. “I want a new counselor.”

“I was trying to help –”

“Who were you trying to help? Me, or yourself? You’ve been treating me like I’m crazy for almost a year, and now you’re using me for information so you can buddy up to All Might!” You can’t remember the last time you got angry like this. It’s been forever. “Is getting good boy points from your favorite action figure really that important to you? All that bullshit about caring about people the heroes can’t help – when all you care about is being a hero –”

“They’re going to clear your record!” Midoriya doesn’t shout, but he speaks with more emphasis than you’ve ever heard him use. “Do you know what that means? When you get out of here, you’ll be free. No probation, no work or housing restrictions – nothing. You’ll be able to do whatever you want to do. I want you to have that, because I care about you. Even if you don’t feel that way.”

The worst thing is, you think he’s telling the truth. Midoriya does care about you. But if he cared about Tomura the same way in that other life, you wouldn’t be here. “And none of it has to do with getting All Might’s attention?”

“Maybe a little bit.” Midoriya looks away from you. “But this is personal to me, too. The Hero Killer killed one of my classmates, in my first year at UA. I want to see him pay for what he’s done.”

“In Tartarus.”

“Where else?” Midoriya glances down at his notebook, then up at you. “Were you there?”

“We’re not there yet,” you say. You and Midoriya look at each other for a moment. “If I get another counselor, they’ll tell the shrinks to put me on antipsychotics, right?”

“I’d highly recommend otherwise, but it’s likely,” Midoriya says. He sighs. “I broke your trust, and I apologize. If you would prefer not to continue to work with me, I understand, and I’ll do everything I can to facilitate a smooth transfer to a different therapist.”

He’s not saying he’s sorry for ratting you out. Some part of you appreciates the honesty, and you don’t want to end up on antipsychotics again. “I don’t want you to go behind my back again. If there’s something you think needs to be shared, tell me so I can decide. I don’t want people to start acting like I know the future.”

“I understand,” Midoriya says. He looks relieved at first; then he glances down at his watch and jump-scares himself. “Sorry. Let’s not burn through any more of your session. We left off in the story at – um –”

“Gigantomachia,” you say. Then you remember something. “One thing – Eri wants me to go to movie night. She said I have to or she won’t feel supported in her recovery. But Endgame is going to be there –”

“Don’t go,” Midoriya says at once. “Blame me.”

You’re planning to. You settle into your chair and start talking.

Eri’s unhappy with you, but you shift the blame onto Midoriya so successfully that she refuses to talk to him when he stops by to say hi on his way out. While Eri and Himiko and Honey head to the visiting room, you head back to the room you share with Himiko to study. Your exam’s in less than two weeks. If you don’t have your high school diploma, you can’t be admitted to the peer support specialist training program Midoriya found. And if you aren’t in that program, helping new patients through detox, you’ll graduate from treatment and be back out on the street.

You don’t want that. You’re not ready for it. This is the only place you’ve felt content since Tomura was murdered, even if ‘happy’ is permanently out of reach, and if training to become a peer support specialist is your way to stay, you’ll do it. You remember more from your two and a half years in high school than you thought you did, despite the fact that you spent way too long pickling your brain in neuroin. But English was your worst subject in school, and it’s still your worst subject now. If you fail, that’s where it’ll happen.

Even knowing that, you can’t quite focus tonight. Your head is spinning through scenario after scenario, pointless thoughts chasing their tails endlessly, and you keep coming back to All Might asking if you want to help people, Eri saying that you could use your quirk for something good, Midoriya saying way back at the beginning that he wanted to help people the heroes couldn’t. Is there something you can do? What can you do that others can’t?

When the answer occurs to you, it makes you feel like an idiot for taking so long to figure it out. You head to the small library and the ancient computer you’re allowed to use, praying the website won’t be blocked. It isn’t, but the database you find yourself staring into is enormous, and your brilliant idea suddenly feels a lot less doable. There are so many. How are you supposed to do anything with all of this? What can any one person do?

One person can make a difference. If one person had reached out to Tomura when he was a child, it would have changed everything – and you know that for sure now, because you live in a world where it did. One person did that. You could be that one person. Even if it was just for one other person, it would be enough.

You print pages at random, until you’ve got twenty or so, then take them back to your room to study them. English can wait a little bit. You memorize the details on each page, repeat each name out loud until it rings in your head, look at each face until you could pick it out of a crowd with ease. You’ll do the same tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after, and when they’re impossible to forget, you’ll go and memorize some more. It might not come to anything. But it’s worth a try.

Overhaul looks like you remember him, except for the arms. He’s got them both, but no legs, and no effort’s been made to restrain him as he sits at the defense table, attorneys on either side of him. “They used a quirk-canceling bullet on him,” Midoriya tells you. “He’s no longer an imminent threat.”

“But he’s not harmless,” you say. “Not with what he’s doing to Eri.”

Eri’s been improving steadily. Everyone can see it. But she’s needed as a witness in Overhaul’s trial, and even going over her testimony in one of the sensory rooms at the treatment center is enough to unhinge her. She can’t calm down without help from people she trusts, and that list of people is pretty thin. One of them is Endgame. One of them is Midoriya. And because You will live to see every result of your wish, one of them is you.

The trial is supposed to be closed to the public, but you and Midoriya are here in the otherwise-empty audience as support people for Eri. Endgame is keeping her calm in the room where the witnesses are sequestered, but while she’s on the stand, she’s supposed to look to you and Midoriya, and use the sight of the two of you as a touchstone. She has a packet of origami paper, too. When she wants to pull at her hair, she’s supposed to start folding it so she has something else to do with her hands.

That one was your idea, and you remember seeing a surprised look on Endgame’s face. Midoriya didn’t look surprised at all. “I knew you’d be good at this,” he said, smiling. “You’ll make a great therapist, too.”

Your peer support specialist course was only two months long, and now you spend most of each day down in detox and intake, trying to keep people from dropping out of treatment the same way you used to. Nothing reinforces your desire to stay sober like watching someone detox off neuroin, and because you’ve been through it yourself, you’re in theory the best person to talk someone through it. In theory. In practice you get sworn at a lot. Yelled at a lot. Called lots of names. You’ve even had people shake you down for neuroin.

A lot of them do leave, but every one who makes it through and gets moved up to individual and group treatment feels like a victory to you. And as much as you hate to admit it, helping people is kind of a high. Enough of one that you’ve started taking college classes, too, hoping to become a counselor or a social worker. You’re coming up on a year and a half sober. The Hero Killer was captured based on the information you gave, which means your record is clear of felonies, with misdemeanors that will be wiped off your record once you’ve gone five years without committing any more crimes. The life worth living that you found so difficult to imagine is easier to picture now.

With your future coming into focus, it’s ever so slightly easier to ignore the past, or at least to put it in its place when you need to. Which is good, because in the leadup to Overhaul’s trial and for the sake of helping Eri, you’ve found yourself dealing with Endgame a lot more than you ever expected to.

Endgame. You’ve made yourself stop calling him Tomura, because he’s not Tomura. The Tomura you fell in love with is gone, first into death, then from everywhere but within your memory when you changed his past. Endgame is someone else, someone who never belonged to you, and so what if his laughter makes your heart ache? So what if seeing his hands open at his sides makes your fingers cramp with the desire to slide your hand into his? So what if you end up crying after you see him, every single time, in the bathroom or in your debrief therapy session with Midoriya or into your pillow at night while Himiko sits on the edge of the bed, petting your hair? You can see him, interact with him, without breaking down. That’s good enough. You’re fine.

The timer on your watch beeps, and you silence it in a hurry. Time for more suboxone. You’re on a pretty strict schedule, and you place your midday dose under your tongue as yet another hero takes the stand. If the prosecution is going to call every hero who was present during the raid on the Hassaikai compound, this is going to take a while.

Weirdly enough, Overhaul’s lawyers are the ones who get you out of it. They agree to stipulate that the majority of heroes involved in the raid would give testimony almost identical to the heroes who already testified, in exchange for the government dismissing the other twenty-nine heroes. The only ones who are left after that are the ones who interacted with Overhaul directly, and Tomura – Endgame – is first on the list.

He's good on the stand. Convincing. There’s still something magnetic about him, something that makes people sit up and pay attention. You find out that he’s the one who took out Overhaul’s legs, in the course of trying to subdue him alive, and find out that he’s the one who Decayed the Hassaikai compound down to its foundations to expose the place where Eri was imprisoned. Endgame describes the conditions she was being kept in in enough detail to make you sick. The only consolation is that Midoriya looks pretty sick, too.

The Hassaikai lawyers take a stab at cross-examining Tomura – Endgame – but he’s a nightmare, and based on the way one corner of his scarred mouth tugs up in a smirk, he’s doing it on purpose. It’s not good for you to see him like that, looking so much like he did in your memories. You’re relieved when he’s off the stand. Now you can settle in and wait for Eri, just like –

“That was a mess.” Endgame sits down on your right, scaring the hell out of you. You lurch to one side and collide with Midoriya, and when you flinch back, you fall against him for a second before lurching upright again, your heart racing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. How’d I do?”

“At not scaring me? Like hell.” You start a round of box breathing, picturing that YouTube video of a mandala expanding and contracting in your head. “On the stand? Fine, probably. I’m not a lawyer.”

“It went well,” Midoriya says. “They’d have kept you on for longer if they thought they could get anything out of you.”

Endgame nods. You see one of his hands lift to the side of his neck, then fall back. “I don’t get called out to a lot of these things. Usually I’m doing rescue stuff.”

“You were good,” you say. “How is she?”

“She’s okay,” Endgame says. You’d believe him, except for what he says next. “How bad do they need her testimony to put him away?”

“Not to put him away, but to make sure he never gets out,” Midoriya says. Endgame’s expression is grim. “We’ll be here for her. That’s all we can do now.”

“Right.” Endgame makes himself comfortable next to you, and cold sweat starts dripping down your spine.

You try to pay attention as the next witness comes on, and the next, but all you’re conscious of is Tomura sitting beside you, close enough that you can feel his body heat but not so close that you can touch. You haven’t been this close to him since he was helping you sit up after your overdose. His hair’s even longer now, the ends trimmed instead of tangled like you remember them, and you fold your hands in your lap, squeezing tight so they won’t ache at the memory of running your fingers through his hair. You’ll be crying later. You just know it.

When Eri takes the stand, your attention snaps from Tomura to her in a heartbeat. Her face is set in a mask of determination, her hair done in the simple style that Honey helped her with this morning, her dress picked out by Himiko, who has an eye for this kind of thing. She looks so young, and although you know she’s rattling with anger, it’s not visible to the naked eye. Tomura could never have mastered that kind of control in your memories. Then again, Tomura never got the help he needed.

The prosecutor keeps it brief with Eri, asking her to describe her experiences in brief, her understanding of Overhaul’s plans, and what happened when she was rescued. Her psych evaluation was entered into the record, so he doesn’t have to ask her questions about her mental health. But this was never the part you and everybody else was worried about, and sure enough, when the Hassaikai lawyer steps up, Eri goes tense. Her eyes shift away from the attorney, going straight to the defense table. To Overhaul.

This is what you were afraid would happen. That she’d be drawn in by him, cowed into silence by him – or worse, that she’d get so angry she loses her ability to express herself and winds up feeling powerless all over again. But you know Eri. You know she’s strong. You wait as she stumbles on the first question, and as the prosecutor objects to the second, Eri tears her eyes away from Overhaul and looks towards the audience. You hold her gaze, and without breaking it, you reach into your coat and hold up the packet of origami paper you brought, identical to the one she holds. You extract a piece of paper, and slowly, Eri pulls one from her pocket to match.

The two of you have been doing origami together, you working from instruction or memory while she copies each fold you make. You’re not sure why or how that happened, since you’re bad at origami, but it seems to help. You make the first fold for a paper crane, and Eri does the same as she answers the defense attorney’s next question. Her voice is still shaking, but her eyes are fixed on your hands.

You try to tune out what she’s saying. Knowing what your wish did to her will make you want to use, and you’re already triggered enough with Tomura sitting right here at your side. You didn’t mean for it to happen, but you can’t change it. All you can do is what you’re doing now. Being here, trying to have her back, while she tries to put away the man who tormented her. Maybe you need to remember that. You’re not the one who tortured her. That was him.

Tomura touches your arm, and once again, you startle so badly that you almost crush your half-finished crane. Your packet of paper slides from your lap to the floor, and Tomura ducks down to retrieve it, haphazardly wedging the spilled papers back in. Not all of them, though. He keeps ahold of one, looks at you with eyebrows raised. He wants to fold, too? You nod, and Tomura faces front, folding fast to catch up to you and Eri.

You didn’t know he did origami. If you did, you’d have offered him some paper from the start. On the stand, Eri counters a question about how Overhaul treated her when he wasn’t experimenting on her with a flat, unequivocal response. “He never stopped experimenting on me,” she says. “It happened every day.”

Your stomach clenches, and you breathe deep through your nose and out through your mouth – which turns out to be a mistake, because this close to Tomura, you can pick up on what he smells like, and it’s so familiar, so much like home, that your heart breaks all over again. You’ve never wanted to use more than you do right now, when you’re so close to the person you did everything to save, knowing that in saving him you set yourself up to lose him a second time. It hurts. It will never do anything but hurt, and you have to live with it forever.

You keep your eyes on Eri, even as your vision threatens to blur. Her eyes are clear, and she’s sitting upright in her seat, aware and alert, as the two of you set your completed paper cranes down, hers on the railing of the witness stand, yours balanced on the back of the bench ahead of you. Eri starts to draw another piece of paper out of the packet, and so do you, but then her eyes dart sideways. Her mouth twitches. Her shoulders shake. Not like she’s going to cry – like she’s trying not to laugh. You follow her gaze straight to the paper crane Tomura’s just set down on the bench alongside yours.

At least, you think it’s supposed to be a crane. “What is that?”

“A crane,” Tomura says, and your throat hums with laughter. “You were folding too fast. I think I missed a step.”

“I’ll say. It looks like a dinosaur.”

“Hey. Don’t make fun of him,” Tomura says. “Birds used to be dinosaurs. Maybe he’s the missing link.”

The longer you look at Tomura’s misshapen crane-thing, the worse the hum in your throat gets. There’s something so ridiculous about it with its tiny wings, the way it lists sideways, the fact that Tomura folded a beak onto its head and its tail. And in spite of that, there’s something weirdly upbeat about it. Like it knows things can’t get any worse than this, and it doesn’t care. Tomura scoots it along the bench until it’s right alongside your crane, like it’s trying to make friends, and the juxtaposition of the two is too much to handle. You let the piece of paper fall into your lap and clamp your hands down over your mouth to hold in your laughter.

You see a grin flash across Tomura’s face out of the corner of your eye, and your heart lurches – and then you remember the point of all this, why you’re really here. Eri, and you completely forgot about her. You look up in horror and find her looking back, clearly watching Tomura’s crane debacle. Her eyes are still clear. And she’s almost smiling.

How often have you seen her smile? Even now, it’s rare, and in an instant, everything else falls away. You draw another piece of paper out of your packet, matching Eri’s again, and this time, you hold out one for Tomura, too. He hesitates. “What?”

“This might be a bad time to tell you,” he says, solemn except for a spark in his red eyes, “but I’m shit at origami.”

It’s an effort not to laugh. “Pay attention this time, then,” you say. You hold out the piece of paper again, and this time, Tomura takes it.

By the time Eri steps down from the witness stand, she’s folded six paper cranes to match yours, and Tomura’s folded six cranelike objects of his own. He lines his up alongside yours, side by side, and you tell yourself that this is enough. You’ve found a life that matters, even amidst the mess you made. If sitting next to him for a few minutes, folding the worst origami known to humankind, is the best it gets, it’s better than you ever thought.

You’re packing up to leave for your first shift when your phone buzzes. You haven’t had a personal phone in a while, so it takes you a second to respond, and you hesitate when you see Midoriya’s number. The two of you are in a weird grey area right now – he’s still your therapist, but you’re also sort of his coworker, and either way, it’s weird for him to be calling you. You pick it up anyway. “Yeah?”

“It’s not a story.”

You knew this was coming. You close your eyes. “What happened?”

“He asked me. All Might.” Midoriya’s voice is shaking, although you can’t tell whether it’s with excitement or terror. “To be his successor.”

Ever since Eri came to the treatment center, All Might’s gotten more interested in its mission, and he spends a lot of time with Midoriya talking about it, but you didn’t think it went this far. You never thought it would go this far, and based on the way Midoriya’s hyperventilating into the phone, he didn’t expect it, either. “Breathe,” you say. “How did it happen? Did he say why he picked you?”

“He said the world needs a new kind of hero,” Midoriya says. “One who reaches the people no one else can. Who believes people can change if they want to, and who won’t give up on them as long as they’re still trying.”

“Like Endgame,” you say without thinking.

“That’s what I said,” Midoriya says. He sucks down another deep breath. “But All Might said Endgame can’t do it alone. So he asked me.”

The world really must be different now, if that’s All Might’s take on things. Even if you’d heard that coming out of a hero’s mouth in the world-that-was, you’d never have believed it, but All Might’s not just saying it – he’s putting his money where his mouth is, by choosing someone who sees criminals and villains as more than just monsters in need of a beatdown. “What did you say?”

“I said I had to think about it,” Midoriya says. “I’m not sure I can’t do more good here.”

“Wow,” you say, and Midoriya makes a questioning sound. “I’d have thought you’d be all over it.”

“I want to, but I don’t know if it’s the right thing,” Midoriya says. “I know what I do here matters. I don’t know if I can make being a hero matter the same way. I promised him an answer in three days.”

“You’ve got some thinking to do, then.”

“Tell me about it.” Midoriya’s quiet for a moment. “It works exactly like you said it does. His quirk. Everything he told me is something I heard from you.”

What are you supposed to say to that? “It was never just a story,” Midoriya says, and you shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah.” All at once you’re done with this conversation, and dreading what’s going to happen at your therapy session tomorrow afternoon. “Look, I have to go. I’ve got my first shift with –”

“As a de-escalation support specialist?” Midoriya’s voice brightens up instantly. “Do you know which hero you’re pairing up with?”

“They just promised it was someone I’d be able to keep up with,” you say. “Not somebody who can fly or something.”

“I’ll build in extra time to our session. I want to talk about that, too,” Midoriya says. He sounds more like himself now, to the point where you wonder if he isn’t right. If this isn’t the right thing for him to do, instead of picking up All Might’s quirk and trying to be a hero. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks.” You hang up the phone and finish packing in a hurry. It’s your first day – or night. You can’t be late.

You’re not sure whose idea the de-escalation specialists was, but somebody high-up liked it enough to turn it into a pilot program. No top heroes are involved – it’s for heroes who go on regular patrols, who come into contact with villains, criminals, and civilians on a regular basis. Heroes who opt in are paired up with someone trained in crisis response, who can hopefully de-escalate situations and prevent them from turning violent. It’s probably more about reducing property damage than about helping people, but given that you took your first hit of neuroin to treat injuries you got in a situation that didn’t need to escalate like it did, you think it’s worth a shot.

At least a few heroes have signed up. You and the other support specialists are going to rotate through shifts with them, and you’ll be mostly on the night shift, since you still work your day job in detox and do treatment in the afternoon. Himiko and Eri are coming back from dinner as you leave, and Himiko grabs you in a hug. “Be careful,” she instructs. “I haven’t been out there in a while, but it’s probably still crazy.”

“I hope you get paired up with a decent hero,” Eri says. “Most of them are losers.”

Eri’s doing better – a lot better – but she’s still not the biggest fan of heroes. Neither are you, to be honest, but if you can help even one person tonight, it’s worth putting up with a hero for a couple hours. “I’ll be careful. And thanks,” you say to both of them. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

It’s still weird to you that you’re able to leave the treatment center when you want to. Not that you go out very often – Himiko and Eri and Honey and Birdie are here, and they’re your friends. But you can go out. Go for a walk. Go to the convenience store and buy pads when Eri realizes she hates tampons, or to the grocery store to get a cupcake for Birdie when you found out it was her birthday. You can buy things now, because you have money. You can come and go as you please, because it’s home. Neither of those are things you ever thought you’d have again.

The world you made with your wish isn’t perfect. There’s plenty of things wrong with it still, but you can’t pretend it’s not better. Nobody cared about de-escalation in the world-that-was. You used to hear hero students bitching about how there weren’t enough villains. But here they care enough that the program you’re in is one of several pilots, all across Japan. Himiko’s alive in this world. Twice is alive. Spinner’s alive; you looked him up, found out that he writes books, read one of them and found yourself smiling. Maybe Dabi and Magne are alive out there, too.

Tomura’s alive, too. That’s why you did this. He’s alive and he’s happy, and you – maybe you aren’t as happy as you would have been with him. Maybe there’s a piece of you that’ll always be missing. But you’re happy enough, you think. You finally have a life that matters.

You reach the street corner where you’re supposed to meet the hero you’ll be working with, right on time. The hero’s late. You resist the urge to pull out your phone and mess around with it. If you’re out on the street, on a shift, you’re on duty, so you need to pay attention. You learned to read a crowd when you were a criminal. Now you can use that for something good.

You hear footsteps behind you, and someone comes to a stop beside you. “Sorry I’m late. There was a – hey, it’s you!”

You’d know his voice anywhere. “It’s you,” you say helplessly, and turn to face Endgame.

He hasn’t cut his hair yet. Every time you see him, you wonder if it’ll be gone, if Bubble Girl has finally worn him down, but it seems even longer than it was before. He’s smiling at you, lopsided and sincere. “I was wondering if you’d sign up. It seems like your kind of thing.”

You nod. “I guess we’re working together tonight?”

“Looks like it. Is that going to be okay?” Endgame tilts his head, studying you. “Sometimes I feel like –”

“Like you’ve seen me somewhere before?”

It’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” Endgame says, “let’s go with that. I’m good to go if you are.”

“Me too,” you say. He starts off across the street and you follow him, and for eight hours on a cloudy spring night, you’re exactly where you belong.

part 2 ->

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[sairenharia]

Of Hedgehogs, Chaos, and the Warrior's Heart

So here is the thing.

We don't know why Longclaw wanted to hide Sonic.

Sonic 3 spoilers ahead.

So upon rewatching the movies and Knuckles miniseries before movie three, this thought has been niggling my brain. Why was Longclaw hiding Sonic. We know Longclaw wanted to hide Sonic for his power, and the first real thought is his superspeed.

Except, when you think about it, superspeed is rather hard to use against a person's will and one of the harder people to contain. Freedom of movement is necessary for full usage, and if you have a speedster with freedom of movement, they can do a lot of things to escape. And really, what do you use it for? Super soldier, maybe, but it gets into that containment thing. Have in a hamster ball forever? Sure, but how do you keep him running and keep him optimal?

When it comes down to it, being used for his speed doesn't warrant Longclaw's actions.

Longclaw wanted an apprentice for the Master Emerald and selected Sonic for being superpowered? Well, possible, but that would mean Longclaw was doing EXACTLY what she was warning Sonic to watch out for. More over, its a pretty terrible thing for Longclaw to DO. If protecting the Master Emerald required isolation, that is a terrible thing to do to a child, especially a child as extroverted and friendly as Sonic is. So no, I don't think Longclaw's hiding away of Sonic had anything to do with the Master Emerald. I think she had ANOTHER reason and since she was already raising and isolating this kid anyway, might as well have him as the guardian after her. The Master Emerald duty was one of convenience, not intent.

So Sonic isn't wanted for his superspeed or his relation to the Master Emerald.

So obviously, I'm getting at his unlimited power source quills and EMP abilities. Or at least what they indicate.

Because let's be real, those abilities are weird. Those are not base Sonic abilities. Whatever is going on is something different from usual canon.

Now, a seemingly infinite power source like the quills able to grant things superspeed is definitely a hell of a thing people would want.

Then there's the sticking point.

Because Knuckles has the same thing going on. Why didn't Knuckles need to be isolated?

Especially as the Prequill comic implies Sonic is a known entity to a certain degree. His speed is well known despite his being a child at the time. Longclaw is known. Tails knows a fair bit about their relationship and what Sonic could do as a child. Sonic, himself, was a KNOWN entity as a toddler.

Which is weird because he wasn't doing heroics then as far as we know.

What is the difference between Knuckles and Sonic. And it was driving me up the wall because Longclaw is hiding Sonic for some reason, and Knuckles was allowed to run free, and the power ups isn't a Mobian thing in general, because Tails has yet to be a sparky sparky LED eyeballs with fur that grants superpowers.

And then we saw Amy Rose.

And the Metal Sonics.

And a lot of things started clicking into place, including a lot of weird things that have cropped up along the way.

The Metal Sonics teleported in as an army. Now generally Metal Sonic is made by Robotnik, but he didn't really have time to do that. More over, why is Amy here in time to deal with them at all. If Robotnik survived the Eclipse Cannon exploding (and let's be hones,t he almost definitely did), Tom is still injured. We max a few months after the Eclipse Cannon and Robotnik probably needs to recover himself.

So I don't believe he's the one who made Metal Sonic in this universe.

So the question is who.

And why.

First weird thing: The Scavengers. Here is the weird thing about the Scavengers. They dress as birds. They're not bird people and it seems the Owls may have made the same path as the Echidnas.

The scavengers, and the Metal Sonics are working in the same vein. Because its known that Sonic was raised by an Owl. Dressing as birds could be a ploy to put Sonic into a false sense of security, lower his guard for them to get the jump. The same for designing the Metal Sonics that way. They want to put Sonic into a false of security.

But that is a lot of work for a Hedgehog that they may or may not know is still alive. Its been years and he was on his own as a literal child.

Weird thing number two. Tails calls Sonic a legend. Why? Because by that point, literally the only thing of note that we know of Sonic that he's done is hide away most of his life and fight ONE guy with a moderately sized robot and stopped some petty crime. Now at first this could just be Tails seeing someone weird being cool getting some hero worship, but we see in the Prequill that Longclaw's home is considered a sacred site.

And we see Tails is cracking chaos energy. Sonic was confused for a place destroyed by chaos energy.

Weird thing number three. Knuckles and Tails say Sonic and Shadow look alike, which is weird when they would be around more mobians and aliens in general. Sonic looking at another Hedgehog and thinking 'they look like me' tracks because Sonic doesn't remember seeing another Hedgehog. If you see a pack of wolves, you're gonna think they all look the same until you're around the pack enough to tell the difference. Knuckles and Tails should be able to tell the difference, while the Hedgehogs are new to seeing any pack.

Weird thing number four. Knuckles says its impossible. That's a weird word to describe meeting another Hedgehog. They knew they were going to see an alien. Why not another Hedgehog? What about Hedgehogs makes it such a surprise?

Why does Longclaw need to hide Sonic?

Because Hedgehogs are hunted down.

The Scavengers dress as birds because there is a long history of Owls trying to protect Hedgehogs.

The Metal Sonics are Metal Hedgehogs, with a paint job because they're aware of Sonic's existence, so they made it more specific.

Amy is dressed like a survivor type because she is being hunted down too and she has to keep herself covered up and she's on Earth to protect some fellow Hedgehogs.

Why is Knuckles different from Sonic (and Shadow)?

The Echidnas may not be so different and that's why their numbers were decimated since not ALL of them should be hunting down the Master Emerald. A lot of Echidna's might have died in pursuit of power, but they may be close enough to Hedgehogs that they get tracked down for either use or destruction.

But they're not as scary as Hedgehogs.

Because Hedgehogs can access Chaos Energy with ease and Echidnas have to work at it.

We know in the Knuckles Miniseries that Knuckles knows he's had chaos energy all his life, but he wasn't able to access it. Not without training and hard work and a warrior's heart.

Sonic and Shadow, we know, never had a day of training in their lives before they were going nuclear.

Echidnas are a crafted blade.

Hedgehogs are a lake of gasoline.

Longclaw needed to hide Sonic because he was a Hedgehog and someone wanted Hedgehogs either to use or destroy. Hedgehogs in the wild are rare enough that his natural abilities were taken stock of.

Sonic is a legend because, by being a Hedgehog, he is destined to be something powerful. He was weird. He was unique. He was amazing. And he choose to help people with these abilities and that's why Tails considered him a legend.

(There is also a possibility there is just straight up a prophecy and Tails hasn't quite caught on how much Longclaw did NOT tell Sonic things. A bit of a 'this is a normal fact to Knuckles and Tails so it doesn't enter their minds Sonic DOESN'T know it' but that is very speculative without a lot of evidence to go off of.)

Circling back to the idea of the Warrior's Heart and the importance of the Hedgehogs we see.

Here is the thing, Sonic the Hedgehog has established that the power of friendship/family/love is, in fact, a thing that happens. We see Sonic go from on the floor to fighting Robotnik with the Wachowski's and town reaching out. We see the Chaos Emeralds react in face of a familial love. We see Knuckles go from the ground and drained to raring to go for his home. We see Sonic get the upper hand on Shadow when his love for Tom is provoked, and we see Shadow use his love for Maria to move the Eclipse Cannon.

And throughout the series we see a human do an act of superhuman ability without any aid of technology or magic gems a grand total of once.

Wade Whipple.

In Flames of Disaster, he does a standing jump inside of the cage, through the roof, several feet above it, and land without getting seriously hurt. While we may not know the exact material of the roof and it looks like cardboard, the standing jump is not a realistic human feat, let alone for Wade Whipple.

But he was selected to be the inheritor of the Echidna's way. Sure, his selection may have also been about getting Knuckles to live his life, but I think his selection was two pronged. One part was to help Knuckles learn to live his life, but another was Wade had a potential.

Chaos Energy.

How much, who knows, but it was enough that when Wade figured out how to connect to the Warrior's Heart, he was able to access that power he had to jump through the roof.

And Wade's journey is about trying to be good enough for his dad. The daddy issues were real. He wants to prove he's a warrior, prove he's good enough, to be able to reach his dad again. That was his motivation for his way of the warrior.

Connection is key for chaos energy.

Which makes it funny because the used of a lot of it have largely been those who experienced great loneliness.

Which can also go a long way to explain why the quills retain their power. Because the quills are weird. The quills being pulled off should mean they're dead tissue so while retaining some energy for a while isn't such a hard thing to believe, we know they can last one to fifty years with no problem. And that is base Hedgehogs. That points to an active connection with the quills. Which also goes along with Sonic's quills lighting up when he gets worked up.

Which goes into the Elephant in the room.

What's the deal with Shadow?

He wasn't created by GUN or Gerald. He may have been a natural born Hedgehog for all we know. But here is where we get into theories.

Because the other known factor for Shadow's creation is Black Arms.

And why I think Hedgehogs are hunted down.

And why Longclaw focused so hard on Sonic's heart and to not let himself be used.

And why GUN got real lucky Maria existed in the first place.

My firs thought is Black Arms like to target Hedgehogs for infection. Usage. Hedgehogs are so intune with Chaos Energy, they're prime candidates to convert into their hivemind and Shadow was the first experiment into that. Make him the hybrid.

Which may be the case.

A friend mine proposed another theory that feels more secure in what we've seen.

Hedgehogs ARE Black Arms.

Chaos reacts to connections. It doesn't have to be a positive, it just has to strong. The want to protect family, the home, tradition, is just as strong as grief, vengeance, and loneliness. Connection is the key.

Much like a hivemind.

And it would explain why the quills are active so long. To tap into chaos is to tap into a hivemind and then every part of someone becomes part of the entity. The quills don't lose charge because they continue to LIVE, even if they don't have THOUGHTS.

Its also why the quills so READILY give out their powers to others. Knuckles grants strength. Sonic grants speed. Shadow just grants pure, unfiltered power.

Its also why Sonic and Knuckles are able to absorb their power back from stolen quills or energy drains.

Maybe its why Shadow survived the Eclipse Cannon, its his power, he just needed to be able to absorb it again.

They're calling back the power from a hivemind.

It may be why Knuckles can see ghosts of his ancestors, because they have accepted this lowkey hivemind when they embrace chaos.

Other creatures need to work to achieve this state. To connect to Chaos, to have all of their body alive with chaos, and potentially connect to other in Chaos.

Hedgehogs are scary because they don't need to work for it.

Sonic didn't want to knock out the power in several states and a sattelite. He just wanted so desperately to connect to anyone, his powers reacted and called out anyone who was interested in him.

Shadow, despite his introverted nature and treatment from the scientists, connected hard with Maria and she became the light in his life. A light that caused madness in its absence until he formed an empathetic connection that let him see it could still exist.

And then there's Amy Rose, known advocate for all things love and friendship.

Hedgehogs have two ways they can go.

They can become the Black Arms, who are going to be scary, dangerous beings in the galaxy, enough to warrant scavengers to disguise as birds to put them at ease whether or not they're looking for them specifically. To warrant a robot army.

Black Arms who lean hard into the hivemind, the connection to others, to lead them to take and take and take for the betterment of themselves.

Or, what the Owls have discovered, if they can get to Hedgehogs early enough, they can teach them to love and care in a less destructive way. Perhaps something they learned in their long standing feud with the Echidnas, who have tapped into the power, but remained more sane than Black Arms. Their hearts can be good and pure. They don't need to let others use them for their powers. They can be an individual and remain free, even if their quills are in the hivemind.

Teach Hedgehogs to be good people who can do great things, as long as they are allowed to make decisions for themselves. Instead of being used by the larger group.

Shadow may be a hybrid. He may have been just someone who converted early into the state of Black Arms, but crashing into Earth cut him off.

But either way, whatever is going on with Hedgehogs, I'm pretty sure they are indeed an endangered species.

[scalene-4]

before i told myself and all the people i love that i was a woman, i had already overcome insurmountable odds and decided the fate of a decaying world in the body of one. i’d broken myself out of an asylum meant to contain people like me, fought through hordes of monstrous entities that wanted nothing more than the sight of me dead, and chosen to break the cycle of life and death kept in limbo by the burning of an eternal flame.

i am, of course, talking about the original dark souls.

it’s no secret that these games have a special significance within the trans community — it seems especially trans women are drawn to the spiritual journey and tough challenges inherent in their design. since that first experience slashing through lordran with a stolen black knight’s greatsword, i have walked under the gaze of a world that sees me as a liability at best and a danger to the decided order at worst. i have collected the umbilical cords of a great one. i’ve taken hormones that have altered my body into a vessel fit for my soul, and i have bested a rotting and golden-armed warrior who has never known defeat. three times.

if i can dodge waterfowl dance, i can survive being trans in america.

if i can slay darkeater midir, i can survive being trans in america.

if i can learn lady maria’s parry timing, i can survive being trans in america. and look super hot doing so.

these games are everything to me, and i often find myself using my character’s journey and pitfalls and triumphs as a sort of sigil for my own life. the parallels between the souls games and transness run deep, and my connection to them is furthered by the musical structure and rhythm of their combat and exploration. defeating isshin the sword saint without hesitation can’t be that different from learning the right hand pattern to neon by john mayer on guitar, or navigating an ever-more-hostile healthcare system after all.

whenever times get tough and i feel as if i would be better suited cutting my time in this reality short and sweet, i remind myself of the lessons these games taught me: hesitation is defeat. react not from fear but from primal rhythmic understanding. dodge into the attack and not away. never give up, no matter what.

the only line that runs through those of us that survive and thrive in this world is the quality of persistence. that is to say, anyone doing something that you too want to accomplish only has one thing in common: they kept going and didn’t give up, no matter what.

the souls games (especially elden ring) teach you to approach adversity in an abstract and nonlinear fashion. something is kicking your ass? go kill a few beasts. find a cool new weapon and upgrade it. pillage a larval tear from an underground temple and respec your entire skill set. you can do this.

us trans folk are thrown into the world with no plan or blueprint for how to navigate it, much like the chosen undead is plucked from the asylum by a giant crow and dropped into lordran with a vague pair of instructions: ring two bells, one above and one below. you’ll figure it out, although you’ll die quite a bit doing so.

i’ve died so many times throughout my multiple lives in these worlds that i couldn’t even begin to guess the number. i plan on making it all the way through this one to the very end, and hold firm in my ability to learn the dodge or parry timing to any challenge that comes my way. if you are trans and reading this today, know that you inherently and skillfully are capable of the same.

happy trans day of visibility my friend <3 may you never go hollow!

[orphiclovers]

Okay. Long incoherent rambling theory post ahead. Specifically, I want to talk about how the Han Sooyoung 'split' happened/how Han Sooyoung got the avatar skill, extrapolating from canon where I can and headcanoning the rest.

Let's start from what she herself says on the topic. 3rd rounds Han Sooyoung tells Kim Dokja, in a conversation about how 'Avatar' works, that the very first time she made an avatar, she gave it too many memories and it 'went out of control' and ran off. This was a friendly conversation and hsy brought it up herself, so there's not really a reason for her to lie here - this is probably close to how she actually remembers the situation.

Which is interesting because 1863rd rounds Han Sooyoung denies this fact and says SHE is the main body and that she left an avatar behind to act as her. Now 1863 could be lying here to unbalance kdj, they were having a battle of words at the time with lying being an explicit part of the game, but she could also be telling the truth and maybe 3rd just doesn't know she's an avatar (like 49%). we don't get a comfirmation either way so that is left ambigous. So. That's a dead end.

Then, how does the Avatar skill evolve in general?

Kim Dokja says the requirements to evolve it is that you need to be in a creative field of some kind (so you have an 'Author' attribute) + under enough psychological distress for your mind to 'split' in a way that orv compares to DID (in not the most tactful way). It's a rare skill so I'm guessing it probably requires both of these to be true at the same time. A key hint is that we do actually get one other example of someone evolving the Avatar skill on screen. 1863rd rounds Yoo Joonghyuk. It goes like this:

So...not exactly a fun time. But actually I'm sensing a pattern here. Both Yoo Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung, after evolving and using the avatar skill for the first time end up as two sepetate autonomous entities with their own free will - 1863rd!hsy and 3rd!hsy and white and black coat wearing yjh respectively (Kim Dokja too actually - with 49% 51%). So, I think this might be how the skill functions, spontaneously splitting you in half the first time and then both halves of you can make avatars at will after that. Let's assume this is true for the sake of the theory. This conflicts with the way both Han Sooyoungs describe it - they both say they 'created' an avatar the first time BUT I think neither of them were being entirely truthful.

Let's talk about that second parameter. 'Severe psychological distress' in a way similar to that of DID. How I interpret this, based on what we see of 1863rd!yjh, is that there needs to be some fundemental dissonance of core beliefs that cannot exist or be held at the same time, so requires the soul to split in half. For Yoo Joonghyuk it's 'I want to live/I want to die.' (Although Kim Dokja doesnt get the skill in the natural way, I think this concept still holds true. His dissonance is not so explicitly stated but maybe it's something along the lines of 'epilouge/eternity' i.e 'happily ever after OR atonement for his (percieved) sins'.)

But also there's an element of, how do I say this...'purifying self-destruction' to how we see our trio use Avatar. Yoo Joonghyuk takes the blackened and traumatized part of him that wants to die and kills it with a sword, leaving only the part of him that still has hope to regress to the 3rd round, free and unburdened by the weight of bad memories.

You could interpret 51%/49% this way too. The inherent act of Kim Dokja choosing to use this skill to split his soul in half means he did not see another way foward - that psychological distress and belief dissonance is an inherent part of this skill. 49%, the one who get's the 'happily ever after' does not remember needing Ways of Survival, maybe because Kim Dokja couldn't imagine himself having a happy ending with the weight of those specific memories.

But coming back to Han Sooyoung. Just look at the way she uses Avatar in kaizenix. She is a person who does not enjoy being emotionally vulnerable so in any heavy situation she clings to her dry and witty personality like a shield.

Let's just fully realize what she's saying here. When she says she erased the memories of her life deliberately, what she means is that she created an avatar, a sort of 'black coat wearing han sooyoung' and killed it again and again, every year, so she could keep that sarcastic and light hearted attiude. Otherwise she would have become someone like 1863rd rounds Han Sooyoung - hardened and unhappy. And I mean that she literally was on the path of becoming her - she even got 1863rds skill.

She deliberatley brushes off Kim Dokja and doesn't acknowledge the weight of her actions in kaizenix, both waiting for 50 years and killing parts of herself over and over.

And I think this is the sort of mindset she had while telling Kim Dokja about 'creating' an avatar for the first time. She doesn't see the point in potraying herself as vulnerable, so she probably would obscure some details of that story, for example if she was on her knees clutching her head a la 1863rd turns Yoo Joonghyuk at the time. This would seem like a pointless detail to add when the point of the story was that her avatar ran off.

So FINALLY, here's my headcanon on what I think the original belief dissonance was for Han Sooyoung and how she got the Avatar skill.

The split happened very early on in the scenarios. And well, there is one obvious Big Event that might cause someone to have a mental breakdown/identity crisis. The first scenario. I think whoever Han Sooyoung killed, she couldn't deal with the fact she had become a murderer and 'exorcised' those memories - and so 1863 was born, with blood on her hands, in an already destroyed world.

[timaeusresponds]

Everyday I think at length about Dirk all alone in the ocean by himself. Surviving. There’s a lack of conversation in the greater fandom about that part and so many people jump on Dirk for being a socially inept nightmare, but can you imagine??

Your entire life has been a fight to survive. Your entire life was predestined, and your predetermined destiny is marked with isolation and suffering. You have one friend on the same planet at the same time as you, she is so far away even your most expert transportation would die before reaching her(you’ve imagined dying, alone, drowning in the ocean for your hubris and desperation so many times). She is the only one who understands your situation, and even she has ‘people,’ or something like it.

You are fighting as far back as you remember, not just the environment but literal entities— the only other ‘living’ thing besides fish and birds. They are massive, loud, and they want to kill you, it is their only directive. You spend every day a little anxious they will come and you will have to defend yourself again. You cannot get sick, injured, tired, distracted— they will kill you if you do.

You spend time alone, cradled in the nest of your apartment on stilts, and it rocks in the storms in a way that makes you wonder what happens if severe structural damage takes place.

You do not have the comfort of constant access to food. You do not have the comfort of access to medicine. You do not have the comfort of people. You do not have the comfort of not just friends but strangers. You do not have family.

You talk across time with people who do not know and would not understand your circumstances.

Can you fucking imagine.

They’ve noted extreme geographic isolation can cause health problems, immune system issues, and that’s not touching the mental state. Dirk is in extreme survival settings that the comic never really pokes into, but it’s really not hard to imagine given what Dirk says and what we see? An isolated oceanic apartment, the Imperial Drones, he references fishing, it’s. Not hard to fill in the large blank spot of ‘guy alone in the ocean all by himself and two robots.’

And the two robots are not expressly alive, and he knows that. I’m sure he bonded with them, I’m sure he loved them, but they need to be maintained and they’re as much a weight as they are an aid. Yeah, having Sawtooth around has saved his life probably a huge number of times, but Sawtooth also requires repairs, resources, time, energy.

I’m not excusing everything Dirk did, I think his actions are bad and we see him harken with that fact, we see him face it when talking with Dave, we seem him make changes. But when talking about Dirk as this ‘all bad, monster’ we need to remember he spent his formative developmental years absolutely scraping out the ability to live and likely learned social interaction from movies and the internet. Yes, he needs to be the one to make those changes himself. Yes, he needs to learn how to talk to people. Yes, he is controlling and overbearing. Those are not ignored just because he suffered, but finding the origin to why is so important.

Control is probably the number one thing he had to worry about. What can he control in his situation. What can he change. He can’t control when the drones come, but he can prepare. He can train, he can build, he can prep first aid supplies, beef up Saw, he can cover his bases and make sure he’s not only ready but ready for failure. He can’t control the lack of reliable food, but he can try and prepare better. Cold storage, nets not rods, see if he can make the process mechanical so he doesn’t need to spend time physically out fishing. He can’t control getting sick, but if he keeps Sawtooth properly equipped, maybe makes extra bots, he can have defenses while out of commission— the extra food stores come in handy here, too. Control every aspect of his life that he can to survive, and it worked until the game, so he keeps using it. Control his friend’s entry, control their actions, control their feelings, because interpersonal relationships aren’t life or death but that’s all he knows at this point. It’s not good, but we can see how he got there.

Idk I just think the greater fandom likes to jump Dirk for being an unsociable, difficult, controlling person while ignoring everything pre-entry.

[spotaus]

Idea-dumping under the cut ig as a distraction!

(Actually this got like... long, so here's some bonus design visuals!)

So, this is mostly me thinking out-loud about those alt/personal versions of Nightmare's gang.

First establishment: in this version, Nightmare follows the *was* evil but does so poorly with several versions of the group that he decides he's probably the problem and goes searching for answers before finally settling on a few and keeping them alive. (Yes, Nightmare keeps the original 3 sets dust. Most of it was scattered, but the bits he kept all went into an hourglass. He keeps it on a shelf high in his office so no one can turn it over again.)

In this same vein, Dream and Nightmare are battling because Dream believes Nightmare is no longer his younger self and an entirely separate entity. (Is this true? Probably this time? We'll see.) So, Dream has Ink usually on-hand, and has lost a few comrades over the years, Blue being the only one who'd survived to this point. (I think he might've managed to recruit a Color at some point, Night killed both the Color and Killer. Maybe he also recruited a horror of his own, who was executed by the 2nd Dust. Point is, Blue has been around to see these monsters be cycled out and behave different and all die expendable on Night's side, and has lost friends on Dream's side.) Dream nowadays tries to stick to only himself, Ink, and Blue.

So, establishing that, there's the trouble of Nightmare and his mortals.

Nightmare lives in an older Victorian mansion rather than a castle, his domain is an abandoned au set in that time period, where him and his crew have free-reign. (Basically think the streets of London but entirely unoccupied and almost constantly night-time or rainy/dreary/foggy.)

Initially, he used this landscape to torment those he brought to his domain, whether that be chasing a new killer/horror/dust until they were exhausted or bringing au inhabitants back for his men to hunt down and torment for him. It was useful, a lot of left-over objects and items from inhabitants long since dead, and a lot of interesting hiding places. The edges of the au are just a blackness. Eventually there is an invisible wall, and if you reach that, You're easy pickings for Nightmare. he knows.

I think that the way Nightmare finally decides on his henchmen needing better treatment is when the 3rd Horror, the very last surviving one, *let* Dream get a lethal hit in on him. There was no chance for Dream or Nightmare to act, and they'd both retreated in the aftermath. Normally this wouldn't have bothered Nightmare, but that Horror had been his most obedient and resourceful one yet, and he'd actually grown to like his presence. So. The silence in the castle while he recovered from injuries and prepared for the next batch? It was particularly striking for him. It felt *icky* to not have another person there, and it felt icky to have lost that Horror in the way that he had. Not even an honorable death. He decided he needed to figure out how to keep a monster similar, if not *better than* how he'd kept horror.

After about a month of debating, he finally settled on visiting a Ccino. And no, this isn't just because Ccino's been growing on me lately. He knew one of the Killer's he had, the 2nd, enjoyed sneaking off to the fluffytale aus and he figured there must have been a reason. So. Nightmare takes advantage of his shape-shifting and what little sense he has, and finds himself in an inaccurate replication of a passive Nightmare. He goes to a Ccino, though it might as well be one involved in the multiverse, since Night is now shattering that view. He makes several trips, regularly over the course of a few months. Biding his time. The balance isn't tipping yet. Until he can become at least slightly familiar enough with this Ccino to ask the burning question. How does one care for another living being?

Ccino, at this point, is used to his weird British customer and his odd way of asking questions. Asks if he means a pet, like a cat. Nightmare clarifies that, no, he means monsters. And Ccino has to try and figure out what he means by that. Is he expecting? Is he... adopting? He asks the second one, and Nightmare nods. Ccino breathes a sigh of relief, and realizes it must be because Nightmare is a boss monster. They live much different lives from a normal monster, require less to eat, less sleep, rely on their magic a lot more heavily. He suggests Nightmare come by again the next day and by then he might have some advice.

And while Ccino mostly gives him information on how to raise kids, from babies to teens, Nightmare takes in the information. He's still convinced he's learning all this because he wants to make perfect soldiers. Monsters who will obey him through whatever means that last Horror had. So he takes in all the information he can. He focuses a lot on the suggestions for teenagers. Even though the ones he had before were certainly adults, they often had outbursts and these solutions seemed reasonable. And Ccino was kind enough to stay after closing to talk with him on multiple occasions. It became a little club, between the two of them, almost.

And then Nightmare finally went out to find new replacements. 4th time's the charm.

The first one he collected this time was a Killer. The most volatile usually, but also the easiest to coerce into cooperating with his goals. Normally, his first act would be to let the Killer run loose in the streets and hunt him down. A show of dominance and control. This time, he decided he'd show patience. He stole away the Killer like he normally would, and left him out on a street, but with a note in his pocket. Detailing exactly what Nightmare was offering and why, along with the address of the mansion incase he wanted to discuss more.

It only took two days before Killer arrived at Nightmare's doorstep. He was cautious, but Nightmare was cordial. Not subtle, no, he acknowledged that he was actively kidnapping him. That if he made a misstep Nightmare would kill him. That he was replaceable. But, he also explained exactly what he was looking for from Killer, and *offered* work to him. Killer wandered away for a few more days, before coming back and accepting.

The trial runs with Killer were rough the first few months. Nightmare visited Ccino less, and found himself trying very hard to balance authority, Killer's loyalty, and the fragile trust growing between them. Sometimes he'd catch Killer doing something and he'd physically refrain from lashing out and punishing. Other times, though strangely only when Killer was making choices poor for his own health, Nightmare lashed out. Corrective behavior was not kind, but it was for the best in Nightmare's mind.

One thing he had a lot of trouble with was letting Killer explore the domain. He used to restrict all his henchmen inside unless they were hunting or on missions. Killer had an insatiable urge to explore, and several times Nightmare saw it as escape attempts. Dragging Killer back inside with threats of retaliation. Only once he let Killer escape and *watch* what he did, he realized he was literally just looking around, picking up trinkets, once he stole a shirt and brought it back with him. Then he returned, willingly, to the mansion. It was no trick, no escape, just simple curiosity. Nightmare took a page out of the book of the advice from Ccino and actually complimented Killer's shirt when he finally wore it one day. Killer's hackles were raised about it, obviously afraid of punishment, but Nightmare waved it off. As long as he wasn't bringing harm to himself or running away, Nightmare didn't mind.

It was only after Killer proved himself capable of hunting down captives in the city maze that Nightmare went out to find another. The 4th Dust.

Dust was a bit more of a handful than usual. Maybe it was because Nightmare wasn't stern enough. Or maybe it was because this Killer was a lot more friendly than his others had been. This Dust immediately attacked. Instead of aiming at Nightmare, it was aimed at Killer. Normally, it the past, he would've let Killer get hurt. Learn a lesson. This time he tugged his Killer out of the line of fire and forced Dust to listen to him. Held him in place.

Dust did not wander into the city like Night had let Killer do. He was confined to the mansion, mainly because Nightmare knew the previous Dusts had a tendency to curl up and let themselves rot if given the chance. So, Nightmare made sure he was fed, and would dunk him in the pond if he refused to bathe, and was always on the watch for hostile attacks, all while Killer was usually playing antagonist.

Nightmare's actually not sure what it was, but one day Dust simply... stopped disobeying his orders. He was up for breakfast, and didn't make Nightmare drag him out to see Killer chase down a victim. Nightmare did his best to be genuine when he told Dust he was pleased to see him up and about.

(Killer had been part of the change in attitude. He would sit outside Dust's door when Night was out and tell him how good of a gig it was. Nightmare wasn't perfect, but the place was cool and it was better than an empty underground. Killer was right, it was better than an empty underground. He gave it a shot and found he didn't feel awful.)

Dust still had his days ofc. Days where he'd get overwhelmed during a mission and overwhelm his magic. Days where he'd be too exhausted or depressed to get out of bed. Days where he hated being there and wanted to go back to his old au. But, on those days Nightmare would check in on him verbally, and visit with meals, or a small gift, or answer a question. Dust liked it when Nightmare answered his questions. And Nightmare, sometimes, would twitch his tendrils and throw something around when Dust was out of commission... but never infront of him. In front of Killer? Yes. Infront of Dust? No. That was not for Dust to worry about.

Sometime after Dust warmed up to him, he resolved to let them visit Ccino. Ccino had been asking about how things were going, and Nightmare wasn't sure how to express the extent of his frustrations a lot of the time. Ccino had suggested a visit might help if they were antsy. Nightmare had agreed.

After a particularly hard day, Nightmare having run into Dream, Blue, and Ink while on a supply run with the two he had, he decided they deserved a break. He prefaced that they were not to torment. Not to harm. Not to do any damages or there would be consequences. When both had agreed, thinly veiled curiosity, Nightmare took them to the au. Just around closing time. He adopted his shapeshifted passive form and brought the two of them along.

Ccino has been... visibly shocked. These were obviously two full-grown, or at least in they 20s-30s, monsters. They didn't look like they were in the best states either. But he'd held himself strong as Nightmare guided them to sit at his and Ccino's usual rounded table, the two extra chairs now being used up. Nightmare handed them the menu, and it seemed he got hesitant orders from both of them before approaching Ccino at the counter. He ordered. Ccino got to work.

When the drinks were brought out, Ccino was almost pleasantly relieved to find that the two additional monsters had cats swarming them. Nightmare introduced them, and Ccino saw how Killer had one cat cradled in each arm, both purring up a storm. Dust had one in his lap, asleep, with one of his hoodie-strings trapped by the cat's jaws. Night didn't bother with a made-up story. Just vaguely explained that they had come from toxic and unhealthy environments and were staying with him for the time being. Like... roommates. Ccino just kinda has to accept that the other two don't seem to be in any immediate distress and minds his own business.

I think it'd be at least a year or two, Nightmare ensuring he's made Killer and Dust comfortable and loyal. Making sure he knows just how to keep them alive properly, and establishing silently to his enemies (the stars) that he's done using expendable pawns. That's when he finally collects the 4th Horror.

It was a hard choice for him. Something about seeing another Horror's face, especially after he'd finally been making an effort to provide better support and care to this Killer and Dust? He figured it out. His last Horror was only so obedient and relaxed because if he was, Nightmare went softer on the others. When the others were both gone, he lost hope. Nightmare, some part of him, was scared he'd do it all over again. Somehow lose Killer and Dust and be left with just Horror. That was why he focused so heavily on Killer and Dust's wellbeing this time. So this Horror wouldn't have to worry. Would turn out the same.

And the plan worked out. Nightmare brought himself to go find a Horror. One from a collapsing timeline, right in the cross heirs of Error's attacks. He was basically a scrap of code, and Nightmare tugged him to safety at the last second. This Horror was confused, but grateful, until he noticed Killer and Dust. Horror was entirely avoidant of the two for the longest time, willing to do as Nightmare said once he heard him out, saw what was happening, but he did NOT like Dust or Killer. He was cagey, kept to himself, only showing weakness if he was injured in battle or had fallen ill. Night tried to watch out for him, but that wedge between the three of them was troublesome. Night hoped it'd work itself out. It never quite did.

Night doesn't have a favorite. He'll refer to Killer for important tasks, he's been there the longest. He'll let Dust fall asleep on the couch near to him and curl tendrils around him while he haps. He'll find recipe books and new supplies from aus for Horror to try out. He'd willingly get in the way of any attack to improve their chances of survival. Having said this, he pays an extra attention to Horror. Everyone notices it, Horror finds it unsettling sometimes but can mostly ignore it. It isn't until a fight with Dream where Horror chases Ink off to the side and Ink reveals to him the fate of the last Horror that any of them know *why*. Horror takes time to process it, before bringing it up to Nightmare very very nervously.

Nightmare, pained, admits his previous faults. He's not proud of his methodologies back then. He doesn't admit how much he cares about this 4th round of them. He doesn't need to.

Fun bonus! There's a year where Cross comes into the picture. At first he seeks out Nightmare for his help. Like in Underverse, he wants to rebuilt his au. But Nightmare denies him. It wouldn't benefit him or the others, it wouldn't benefit the balance, find someone else. But Cross can't. When he tries to work alone, Cross finds that Dream and the stars intercept him. They assume he'd working for Nightmare, which he denies, and they try to talk with him. Ask what he's doing. Ink and Dream can't allow Cross to keep going, even if he's trying to make himself a new home. They ask if he wants to join them. Defend against evil in the multiverse. And as it is, he has to agree.

So Cross teams up with the stars for a while. But as he's working with them, things don't seem to be lining up. Dream claims Nightmare tortures his followers, trades them out like cheap toys. But... Cross never sees these ones change. And if one gets too injured, Nightmare calls a retreat. The same ones come back each time. Even in the midst of battle Nightmare seemed to keep tabs on all of his players.

Once, Cross isolated Dust from the rest of the fighting. He was wounded and clearly getting more exhausted by the second. When Cross pinned him finally, he asked if he wanted to stop fighting. To go somewhere safe. Away from Nightmare. Dust had always seemed like the most actively dis-engaged fighter of the three. Cross thought he could convince him. But Dust just stares at him and says "Nah." Before getting a second wind and summoning an attack again. Cross tried to knock him out, take him by force, but the hit just dazed him rather than knocking him out, and by then Nightmare had figured out where they were. Seeing, or sensing, Dust's state, he signals for retreat instantly. Cross is forced to move or get skewered by darkness, and he's shocked by how gently Nightmare scoops up the dazed Dust, and how willingly Dust let's it happen. Horror and Killer are right on Nightmare's tail and hop through the portal first. Night through very last.

Cross had never seen Nightmare pick up his men so carefully before. Usually they'd walk through on their own, or he'd lift with tendrils. This time he carried Dust in his own arms. That was... weird.

Cross, eventually, comes to terms with not rebuilding his AU, just being barred from it for so long. But it takes *ages* before he goes to Nightmare. For one reason or another, Cross realizes that the state of his friendship with Dream is unhealthy. I mean, Dream cares for him, but it feels overbearing. And when he asked to visit the omega timeline once, Dream advised against it. Basically placed him on house-arrest unless everyone was going out to fight. He had to stay inside Dream's au, since he was an outcode. A fragile one. (Dream was afraid of losing Cross, like he'd lost many others.)

During a fight, Cross decides he's going to try something new. He's going to get as close as physically possible to the portal at the end of the fight, and lunge inside at the last second. No weapons, no hostility, nothing. That Domain of Nightmare's is untraceable. He needs in there.

And when he enacts the plan? Nightmare actually allows it. On his end, acting like he didn't notice a thing until he steps through.

Ofc, Cross immediately got tackled and pinned by Killer, but Cross doesn't fight back. Night demands he explain himself, abd Cross takes one more hesitant look at the surrounding enemies before admitting. Dream's kept him on a short leash since he joined. No exploring, no harsh training, no visiting friends, nothing. He needed to get somewhere Dream couldn't follow him. Even though it was a suicide mission, Night's domain was the safest choice.

And Nightmare was frankly baffled. Someone had willingly chose his domain over his brother's? It was a bit of an honor. But I'm the sane breath, he couldn't just let Cross leave. If he did, then that wouldn't be just to his three loyal wards.

So, Nightmare gave him an ultimatum. Either he stayed and acted as a teammate, eventually earning privileges just like the others had, or they could kill him. No one can just freely enter the au and expect Sanctuary. Cross knew as much, and as much as it seemed to pain him, he agreed he'd work for Nightmare.

And for Cross? Nightmare decided to reach back into the old days. He told Cross he had ten minutes to go somewhere in the city. Evade for as long as he could. Told him to get running. Only when Cross had confusedly left the mansion did Nightmare tell the group that whoever could scare Cross the most, without intentionally wounding him, would get to choose the next big leisure item he brought back from supply-running.

Boy did the guys torment him! Nightmare kept an eye on it, and there was some excellent restraint from all three of them. It went on for several hours, and Nightmare only cut it short because he'd noticed Cross had developed a limp. Some sort of twisted ankle maybe? (For the record, Dust managed to win. He suggested a projector for movies and stuff.) Back at the castle they all sat at the table, including Cross (though he was wary) and ate. Then they had leisure time. Then curfew. The next morning, when Cross was still limping, he postponed further 'training' to check how truly hurt Cross was.

Basically, Cross figures out Nightmare only does fucked-up stuff because it's part of his nature. He needs to to survive. Outside of that? He's learned to be amicable and borderline kind to those he cares about. Cross is there to witness Killer getting his first cat, he's there to witness the three of them get into intense debates about high-level science and scribble all over a whiteboard, he's there to witness a lot of good moments. Including Nightmare bringing a Ccino for a visit to the house.

This Ccino visit is prompted by him noticing the boys haven't been by with Night lately. Nightmare assures him that they're fine, but also suggests Ccino could come by for a visit? And Ccino, friendly and optimistic Ccino, agrees. Nightmare, upon portalling them, walks a bit with Ccino. Explaining the nature of the realm and why he lives there. Ccino listens and accepts it, even if he is a little spooked. Nightmare then guides him to the mansion and shows him around. The guys are all screwing around in the kitchen, trying to make cookies with Horror. The three are excited to see Ccino and greet him. Cross, who was sitting in the corner trying nit to make things worse with the batter, was confused to find a normal Ccino visiting the domain. A part of him was angry, another was hurt, but he kept quiet. The Ccino was nice and greeted the others, then introduced himself to Cross. Cross did the same.

Ccino, at this point, officially became knowledgeable of the multiverse and unintentionally/intentionally aligned himself with Nightmare. Night seemed to be doing very well despite all the worries he'd had, and also, Ccino considers Night to be a friend. They discuss books together, play newspaper games, etc etc.

After Ccino leaves he starts getting more multiversal visitors, he can always tell, but he has his favorites.

...

Hard cut, day 2 of adding to this ramble post and now I have drawn designs with extra lore!!

Nightmare and Dream's magic from the apple incident has condensed around their skulls like halos! They can't be touched nir damaged by attacks, but they do glow when either is feeding/exerting their magic.

Nightmare did his best to keep the 4th round of the mtt in top shape, but it wouldn't last forever. Dust was the first one to get a major injury, though it wasn't very prominent visually. Shortly after they got Horror, Dust was slashed in the socket by one of Ink's corrosive paints. He fought through the pain, but upon getting back to the base, Nightmare discovered Dust's state. Nightmare's first instinct was to clean the wound like he'd been taught by Ccino, then to ask if Dust could still use the magic in that eye. As it stands, he still can't reconnect to the mana there. Night fought against every instinct telling him that Dust was broken, and to get a new one, and just told him to go rest and recover. Dust has a scar on his bone and his eyelight is missing in that socket. But he's alive, which is a testament to Nightmare's improvement.

Killer lost his leg shortly after they took in Cross. It was a combative fight where Dream wouldn't let up, hunting them down to any au they moved to, not allowing them to make the supply run they'd been on (it was after a period of quiet after Cross ran and was taken in by Night. Dream + the others believe Nightmare killed him.). It was Blue who almost got a solid hit in on Dust, but Killer got in the way to block. Only, he wasn't sturdy enough and his leg-bone practically shattered when he tried to stop Blue's swing. Horror scooped Killer up, and in the wave of negativity and Dust's cursing that followed, Nightmare signaled a retreat.

Under normal circumstances, such a substantial, mobility-altering, injury would prompt Nightmare to just put a follower out of their misery and claim a new one. But. Not anymore. He had to act fast because Killer was fading in consciousness abd Nightmare was never one for major wounds like limb loss. Luckily, Horror was familiar, and him and Night managed to stop Killer's limb from dusting any further up his body. (Dust was furious with Killer for taking that hit. Horror was shocked. Nightmare regretted not taking up the rear in the first place. Cross was mortified to see Killer in such a state and was 1000% sure Night was going to off him.)

Recovery for Killer was... rocky. About 50/50 good/bad days, but he pulled through and learned to use a prosthetic. In the meantime, Cross offered to cover for Killer on runs if he was needed, a good step for Cross and for Nightmare. But, instead, Nightmare asked Cross to focus on making sure Killer didn't hurt himself while the others were out on runs. He couldn't risk revealing Cross' being alive just yet. This leads to plenty of Killer Cross bonding time, and Killer gets to tell all sorts of stories about how much the Boss has been improving. Killer knows he was the pet project, the test dummy to this 'new him'. Nightmare hasn't laid much of a finger on Horror, abd only let them spook Cross, while Killer was tossed around like a ragdoll. And now look! Night was going through the trouble of replacing his limb and nursing him back to health! For Killer it's like watching someone take their first steps. Cross realizes then that Nightmare hasn't always been like this. He used to be worse. He's taking steps on his own to improve. And for what? The sakes of Killer, Dust, and Horror?

Meanwhile, Dream has Blue and Ink, both of whom he extends his positive magic to. Even when they're in their own domains, they can spread his aura to those they interact with and call upon his power.

Unlike those two, he's also allied with Outer and Lust! Those two are from the omega timeline, and they work to help anyone fleeing from destroyed, corrupted, or otherwise uninhabitable aus. They had their own little thing going before Dream entered the picture, but when he approached them about seeing anyone from a destroyed au, they kept in contact. Now they act as a little home-base, keeping track of the battles and the conflicts and making sure the main three fighters don't work themselves into the ground. And! Because the main 3 are always out and about? If you need help with smaller tasks, Lust and Outer are on it. Lust finds it a nice distraction from his past and anxieties, and Outer does it as repayment to Dream (who saved his life from the 3rd Killer once).

Uhhh, one last note I think? Horror is the favorite child from an outsider + inside pov. Night doesn't think that way, but he is actively more careful with Horror than the others. He feels like he failed the last one (he failed all of them but y'know) and he can fix it with this one. This one doesn't understand the treatment and often resents it, but decides not to say anything lest he offset whatever kindness Nightmare is doing for the others. The others don't mind that Horror is effectively the favorite. They know Nightmare was fucked up long before they arrived, and it was just one of his many quirks.

[thejournallo]

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE VOID STATE AND THE VOID:

tag: @aestheticlizalis

As always, I will love to hear your thoughts! and if you have any questions, I will be more than happy to answer them! If you liked it, leave a comment or reblog (that is always appreciated!). if you are intrested in more method check the masterlist!

Every time I end up talking about the void state, there is a part of me that tends to raise awareness about the void itself. It is a thing the void does not help you manifest, like the void state. In this post, I will try my best to explain how much these two things are truly different.

WARNING: COGNITO HAZARD (For those who do not know, a cognito hazard is a term used to describe an image, pattern, sound, or any other kind of sensory signal that directly causes harmful or undesired physiological or physical effects to one who senses or perceives it. (It is specifically used as a warning when talking about "forced awakening" things like the void.)

You are free to believe or not believe every word I will say in this post, and you are free to not believe every word I say. If, while reading this, you start to feel a negative emotion or a sensation as if you are lost or bodily or emotionally sick, DO NOT CONTINUE READING.

let's get deeper in this rabbit hole shall we? 

i will talk breefly about the void state and then i will get in a more detailed way into what the void is, just because i aready explained the void state many times.

the void state:

is a state of deep meditation where you feel like floating and feel nothingness embodies you, making you feel one with the universe helping you to manifest. (Click the name if you actually want to know more.)

the void:

The void is nothing and everything at the same time. Let me explain better: the void is a place where everything is possible and exists, but at the same time is impossible and does not exist.  The thing is, the void in itself is a pass to every other dimension because every dimension resides in the void, even the cursed ones or the ones that never will be or never were timelines.  As a person with a lot of experience in the void itself, I will tell you that it is not a nice place.  Every kind of entity can catch you, good or evil, whatever they might be. As mere humans in the void, we are exposed to a lot of deep-rooted energy that corrupts our bodies in the long run. 

As humans, in the void, we can only "survive" in the backrooms.

what is a backroom?

One thing that is definitely more popular than the void itself are the backrooms that reside in the void. The backrooms became popular around 2012 as a SCP thing as images of liminal spaces. But I assure you, they are pretty much real, and they have many levels, not in a specific order. On every level, we can find different things and different entities, as mentioned before. We can find the good ones that will try to keep you safe and the bad ones that will literally try to kill you. 

I will also add that the backroom exists because we are the front room, so for every timeline in existence, there is a backroom, and much like the universe, the void is pretty much endless, so there are infinite possibilities for the frontroom and the backroom.

why im i telling you this?

because I talk from experience, and let me tell you some of them were not fun. Still to this day, when I go to sleep, I find myself in the void. Bruh, I don't know how it simply happens. And that's been my life since I was 14 years old. I had my time to understand and learn a few rules to exit the backrooms fast enough or not to be killed. 

I will put them at the end, but first, a little check on the main differences that we found out about the void state and the void itself:

The void state is a meditation; the void is an "endless place.".

The void can be a dangerous place, but the void state is harmless.

The void state helps us connect with the universe; the void is not used to manifest.

The void is a constant state of rooted energy, which means, in more basic words, that the energy in the void is dirty, and on the long run, a normal human will not "survaive.". In the void state, it is your energy.

In the void state, we find only ourselves; in the void, we can find an endless amount of dimensions, timelines, frontrooms and backrooms, entities, and liminal spaces. Some are all put together.

If you decide to go into the void state, it is a conscious decision. You can mistakenly enter the void by just falling asleep.

Those are the main differences, just because I can't say much more about the void itself because, as said before, it is a forced awakening, and I don't want people to feel sick with too much information. 

if by mystake you enter the backrooms here some rules that will help you get out faster:

Don't scream; you will give off your location to any type of entity. In whatever level you enter, you will find the exit in the same level.

Not every level is scary. Some have flowers and are pretty; others are simple rooms. Those levels are safe as long as you don't hurt yourself. Be careful.

Don't take stairs, and don't jump in holes or on poles. Again, you will find the exit on the same level as you entered.

If you see fluffy entities, look at their eyes first. If the eyes are blue, they are friendly; any other color is to be avoided.

There is only one entity that is 100% friendly and will help you. It looks like a shadow with no features; it does not talk, but you will understand her.

If you hear a sound, go in the opposite direction; if you feel like a sound surrounds you, hide and stay still no matter what; some entities don't have eyes.

If you can't find the exit, pray to whatever god you believe in, and good entities will find you and help you.

On rare occasions, you might find other humans; don't trust them; they are no longer humans.

and I think that I said everything that has to be said. If you have any questions, I will be more than happy to answer them, and I hope you did not feel sick or do any negative things from this post.

[remnant-verse-if]

Hello everyone, this will be the main post for Remnant: 21 & Before the Incident. I've decided to make a more concise summary of the following stories that take place in the same universe. Your support is appreciated!

|| Before the Incident Demo || Remnant 21 Demo || Patreon ||

Before the Incident <- Demo [218K Words] ] ________________________________________________

Tags: Action, Superpower, Adventure, Fantasy, Revenge The world is truly unfair, but what if you were allowed to enact your revenge. Will you destroy yourself before you destroy those who have wronged you? The ends justify the means does it not?

You and your best friend haven’t talked to each other in a while after losing your parents. Until one day, your friend reaches out to you about Starford Festival. Celebrate the festival with your best friend and reminisce about your past together! Tradition says when you light sparklers while watching the late-night fireworks, a great change will come to your life! Enjoy a slice-of-life-filled prologue!

This story takes place around 1.5 years before the main events of Remnant: Twenty-One. You never knew demons existed until now. Join the Organization and take arms to enact a battle against the Apostles, a secret society that wishes to open the Gates of Hell. Manifest your powers based on the prologue. Will you get your revenge or will you fall before you can achieve it?

Remnant: Twenty-One <- Demo [225,948 words] [HIATUS] ________________________________________________

Tags: Isekai, Action, Supernatural, Fantasy, Psychological, Tragedy The skies are gray. Devils run amok. Is this some sick divine punishment by some sort of god? Your body is no longer yours. Will you survive this world or will it break you? The cycle of reincarnation calls for you to lose every part of yourself until you're born anew. Remnant Twenty-One, only you can undo this shattered world.

You’re taken to a mysterious room and greeted by two strangers. They tell you that your life is no longer, but you aren’t necessarily dead. You cross through a door on the other side of the room and enter a world similar to your own. Except, there’s the existence of demons, Devils, and other supernatural entities. Not only that, you’re trapped in the body of the Chosen One, the hero who will save humanity. The issue is there’s no time for training or preparing, the final battle is in five days!

Fight against Caph and the four Enforcers. One Enforcer for each day which will test the potential of your main character. Meet new/‘old’ teammates that will aid you in the final battle. Maybe even find some love with them? There might be a more sinister force out there than the Devils. Survive to the best of your abilities in this new world. Good luck out there, Remnant Twenty-One.

Before the Incident ________________________________________________

Customize your agent to your liking

Decide what your past ambitions were, they will affect how you perceive things.

Find love in this crazy world of Contract users and demons

Determine what your definition of revenge is.

Will you continue to feed into the cycle of revenge?

Unlock a Contract at the end of the prologue (Powers below):

Wanderer: You can switch between a magical katana and a revolver. You have higher physical prowess and agility with this Contract. Your foes won’t be able to keep up with your speed and aim. You essentially cover both long-range and short-range. Fuel your desire for vengeance. Painter: You wield an ink brush that allows you to paint constructs and summons. Use your creative skills to deal with your foes. The world is your canvas and only you can paint your retribution. Arbiter: Words are powerful. Especially when they can bend reality. Manipulate your targets to convince them of lies. These lies will become their truths and ultimately their downfall. The world is unfair, so why not fix it with your justice?

Remnant: Twenty-One [Hiatus] ________________________________________________

Customize the Chosen One and your original self to your liking.

Mold out your personality the longer you live in this world.

Romance the agents of the Organization in your short time here.

Build bonds with your allies

Your choices will determine who lives and who dies in the story

Indulge in the Chosen One's Sealed Evil

Try your best to avoid suspicion

Before the Incident ________________________________________________

Apollo/Anna [M/F]

Your best friend you haven’t spoken to in a year. Celebrate the Starford Festival with them and recall the memories you had together in high school and college. Perhaps you can find love at the festival as well?

Syo [M]

An odd man with an eye patch. He has a casual attitude to most things and has a lax personality. However, it seems as if he knows a lot more than he actually leads on. Have you seen him in another story?

Tenth [F]

A stoic woman with strong convictions. She’s quite serious most of the time. She gives Syo a hard time for his laziness. She wants what’s best for people and wishes for them to reach their full potential, although her methods can be quite unhealthy. She's also a hopeless romantic.

Abel/Belle [M/F]

This person has a wild heart and a passionate personality. They can be quite too much for people and they’re intense all around. Abrasive and rude. Could there be more layers to this individual?

???? [M/F]

This person was born from a high stature. Manners are everything in this world. Reputation is king. How you present yourself is life and death. They have high expectations of how people should behave. Are you proper enough?

???? [M/F]

You’re on opposing sides. Is it possible for you to shake this person’s convictions and join you? Or will you meet a tragic fate in your journey for their love?

Remnant: Twenty-One [Hiatus] ________________________________________________

Ash [M/F]

A powerful contract user that was close to the Chosen One. They came back to things being much more different. How will they react that you're no longer the person they loved. There are more mysteries and problems for this person.

Anja [F]

A cheerful individual who acts as the communicator for the team. She often likes to keep things lighthearted. However, she hides her internal struggles for the sake of the mission. Will she make it to the very end?

Sigma [M]

A clueless musclehead through thick and thin. He's incredibly strong and has a heart of gold. Yet, he still yearns to learn the truth of who he is. Can he forgive himself in time, or will he die with regrets?

Uri [M]

A man who doesn't really know how to talk to people properly. He has trouble expressing his true feelings, but there's no changing the fact that he deeply cares for the team. He holds the Chosen One in high regard. Will you raise him up or will he crumble?

[0viraptoraskblog]

What do you think the btd/tpof characters would be in something like DnD?

I remember seeing a piece gato made of Sid as a barbarian and Farz as a ranger but I'm curious about the others

Ooh, I’ll have to look for that art.

Forgive me, I love fantasy, but I never had a group to play D&D with so I never got officially into it. I might not know enough for this to be accurate, but let’s do it for fun anyways! I’ll give it my best shot:

Ren- Ren is small and fast, with quick reflexes. He’s good at being silent and sneaking around. I think in this world he could be good at utilizing those skills to help the party. I have three options for him. Rogue: for stealthy things like stealing or spying. Ranger: because he can still utilize his reflexes/animal traits, while taking a more frontline position in the party. Or Druid: due to his beastkin nature (which stems from a connection with that species, generations before him) it just seems right. He could be any of those.

Strade- Fighter. I considered barbarian, but fighter tends to lean more towards weapons than magic, right? I think even in this world he’d love to find new “tools” to use as weapons. Except in the world of D&D, he can use violence more freely. What could go wrong?

Lawrence- Druid. He’d rather be in the woods than with a group of people. I feel like his connection with nature would slowly be overused somehow (maybe using too much darker magic?) and it would start to affect him like the river does in BTD.

Sano- He already has fire and shapeshifting magic. If not just his own species (a naga), I think he’d be a sorcerer.

Akira- Ranger. Has some fighting skills as well as magic, but mainly uses a signature long-range weapon like a bow. Stealthy and deadly. (Akira is a ‘world class’ sniper, with amazing aim. I felt like this fits.)

Rire- Rire is.. himself. As a demon king of such high standing, I feel like Rire would sooner be an entity that the party encounters and fights against rather than with.

Vincent- Barbarian. His anger issues (and the urge to fight that comes with his rage) play into that a lot. There’s also that little bit of respect for the other members (or pack mates, in his case) and the urge to protect them.

Farz (BTD version)- Honestly, I could see him as either a ranger or a fighter. BTD Farz focused more on his short temper and how he quickly resorts to throwing fists, so maybe fighter better suits that version of him.

Cain- My first thought would be the same as Rire. Maybe he could be something like a paladin? He is a fallen angel, but still an angel. I think that would still link his magic with the divine? Or maybe a Monk, but a rare and supernatural one. Maybe he’s just a fallen angel.

Derek- I’m kind of drawing a blank for Derek. He likes it when people are upset, and obviously likes to hurt others. Maybe a fighter or a rogue? If a rogue, he’d probably use his abilities mainly at the expense of others, just for him to laugh at.

Celia- Actually, I’m thinking rogue- but in a non traditional way. I think she’d use her skills and manipulation for underground scandals to make her some money, or to make her enemies suddenly go missing.

Mason- Barbarian. We know he has no problem killing hordes of people, but he does still respect nature and survival of the fittest.

Take that all with a grain of salt, I only know half of what I’m talking about XD

[theteasnake]

I'm once again talking about Danny Johnson because fucking brain rot.

But also character analysis because that's how I show love to my favorite (comfort) characters. 🩵

I swear I'm not trying to flood the Danny tag.

I've seen a lot of characterization of Danny, ranging from abusive and manipulative to a man whore who's a perv.

And I'd like to throw in: just a very tired dude who happens to be mentally unwell.

The only thing keeping this guy from offing himself is his hobbies, which just so happens to be creating stories and murdering. Like, if things went differently and he didn't turn to murder, he'd probably just end up a horror writer (good ending).

Other than stories/killing, he has adrenaline, but those almost always end in a crash. And at some point, he's gotta settle down for bed.

He's never made any meaningful connections to anyone outside of his dad, and even then, it seemed very... unpleasant and complicated. Even he can't tell if he has positive or negative feelings for his dad.

Even if he interacts with other people, he's still isolated because they don't know the real him. He's people-pleasing to the max because his livelihood and survival depends on how likable he is, because why would such a nice and young man commit all these murders all over the country? The same can be said about him and his dad, he had to be what his dad wanted him to be. It's not said if his dad was physically abusive, but military dads who came back from war tend to have a track record of being unkind to their sons.

I don't think he's ever felt a moment of relaxation or peace. He constantly has to watch others and keep a distance, and even when he's alone at home, all he does is sit and stare over his work. He has no sense of identity outside of his murders and stories.

I also saw that the developers called him narcissistic, mainly as an insult, and I don't know much about NPD (I've seen others say he has symptoms and most likely has it), so I can't comment on that. But I don't think the insult is even justified, he's not using others for his own needs, he keeps others at arms length because as soon as someone gets too close, he's done for. He also doesn't seem to be too showy with his work outside of his Ghostface persona, it's even said that he's only written some of the articles on GF (meaning his job in Roseville).

I doubt he's even been in a genuine romantic relationship. He's probably entertained the idea just to keep face or to blend in more because it would be weird for a young guy to not be looking for a girl to settle down with.

Not to mention the exhaustion from getting up early, working a 9-5, then staying up late to stalk/kill, then having to constantly play a character and following a script almost 24/7, while being on alert nearly his whole life. Then then suddenly being thrown into a slower pace environment where he doesn't have to worry about dying or being caught or having to pretend.

I could only imagine the whiplash he had.

Not to mention being labeled the Entity's (basically the god of this realm) golden child and favorite. I wouldn't be surprised if that title also adds stress/pressure.

Sure, he probably enjoyed it for the first hundred or so trials. But eventually everything starts being the same, and it's always the same people each time, and he's only allowed to do so many things in the trials, it eventually gets boring.

He went from taking his time to learn his prey, planning out an extravagant kill to rushing everything and doing things on a whim or following the same script over and over again (check gens, expose people, chase them, hook them, rinse, and repeat).

And we don't know how trials actually work in universe, we don't know if they canonically get breaks or even if the killers get breaks, or if they actually have places to stay in in-between trials, or if they're just overworked with trials back to back to back. We don't know if he is even given a chance to explore things and himself in the realm because he sure as hell never got one in his world.

Tattoos and piercings? Couldn't get them, those are identifiers and he'd stick out, plus it would leave a trail (idk in the 90s, but I had to give up ID to get my tattoo, and certain piercings need ID as well). He would constantly have to change his hairstyle and hair color, along with using makeup to make himself look different (that scar on his forehead is an identifier). He'd be forced to wear clothes that would match his current character's taste, never his own because that would be too consistent. He'd have to change up his way of talking (adding accents, switching up his vocabulary to match the locals, maybe even changing how his voice sounds). Constantly talking about topics he barely knows about because people around him enjoy it, pretending to be in the know to stay in the crowd. The only thing that he knows he enjoys is horror, but even then it doesn't scare him anymore and he only longs for the days when it did (and also probably rock considering his terror radius has some rock elements)

Who is he really? Who knows because he sure as hell doesn't. Maybe even that goofy side is just another facade to make others like him more.

I know a lot of his personality is hidden and not shown because it's supposed to be "it could be anyone" type of thing, but also, that could just play into the fact that he's technically a "nobody". Forever changing and blending in. I doubt even his Ghostface persona is the real him, it's probably just another character in his stories.