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five-rivers · 7 months ago

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Little thing inspired by various Justice League summons Danny posts I've seen about.

Interdimensional travel was hard.

It was a true statement, and one that, in retrospect, was obvious. Of course interdimensional travel was hard. It was reaching out of your reality and into one that had an entirely different set of rules. However, having an interdimensional portal in one's basement tended to skew one's understanding of these things. That was why it took Danny so long to realize that the Observants were actually worried about him.

"Wait," he said, looking up from the (admittedly very passive-aggressive) report the crowd of Observants had just dropped on his (already crowded) desk. "You want to change my summoning ritual because you think other dimensions might hurt my human half?"

"Some of them certainly will," said one of the Observants, testily.

"I didn't know you cared about that," said Danny, still somewhat stunned.

"We normally wouldn't," admitted the Observant, "but although the position of Ghost King is, politically, a figurehead, you are metaphysically vital to the Realms as a whole. Damage to you is to be avoided, when possible."

"Uh huh," said Danny, looking back down at the summoning ritual change paperwork. Although, through a combination of Danny's own nature and the nature of time across dimensional barriers, Danny still looked fourteen and spent a great deal of his time going to school in Amity Park, he had years of experience interpreting the Observants' paperwork under his belt. "Yeah, it's just that I don't think this is the best way to, like. Do that."

"It is the best way to protect you!" said the Observant who had, apparently, been selected as the group's spokesperson.

"Maybe," agreed Danny, who wasn't entirely sure that was true. "But I feel like some of these modifications would kind of be a problem for wherever I wound up."

"Then they ought not to summon you."

While Danny agreed with that sentiment in spirit (getting summoned was almost always inconvenient and annoying), in practice, he wasn't so sure. "I don't think there's any way to communicate that to the guys who are summoning me. Like, some of them get me with old Pariah Dark rituals. And most of them don't really care if their mistakes screw over other people, so..."

"Next to the well-being of the Realms, that is a minor concern."

Danny didn't disagree with that, but he wasn't about to waste time arguing with the Observants about it. They just didn't get it. He tapped his finger on another section that was bothering him. "Also, this seems to keep me from getting out of the summoning circle at all. If someone is summoning me to ask for help, that's going to keep me from doing much."

"It will also keep you from inadvertently exiting into a hostile environment."

"Even in my home universe?" asked Danny, pointedly. "This seems like something more geared to imprisonment than protection."

The Observants were silent.

"Oh, come on, guys, really? Again?"

The Observants scattered.

Danny sighed and picked up the paperwork. He didn't think it was all bad ideas, honestly, but he needed a second opinion that hadn't tried to stuff him in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep Mark 2.

Maybe Clockwork would look it over for him.

"It isn't an entirely terrible concept," said Clockwork, "except for the obvious drawbacks."

"The whole being trapped in the summoning circle bit," said Danny.

Clockwork nodded. "To be fairer than they deserve, there is no way to modify that portion of a summoning ritual in some types of universes but not others. Not from our own side of things, in any case."

"And I mostly can't get at the other side," said Danny with a groan. He perched on the back of Clockwork's chair. "I do want to make sure that I, I don't know, fit with other universes enough that I won't completely demolish them just by existing."

Clockwork hummed. "There are some ways to do that. There are drawbacks, however."

"Bigger drawbacks than accidentally nuking a planet because my radiation is different than theirs?"

"It depends on your perspective, I suppose."

Danny sighed. "Go ahead and tell me, then."

Clockwork picked up a pen. "You are a shapeshifter. You have multiple forms, one of which cannot be harmed through any normal means and which similarly would have little negative affect on the environment unless you acted to cause negative effects. Change the current ritual so that a summoning puts you in that form, and then further change it so that you cannot leave the circle unless you are in a form that will not automatically cause harm or be harmed by the laws of that universe."

"You mean my Ghost King form."

"All your forms are your Ghost King form."

"You know what I mean."

"I do," said Clockwork, smiling.

"It freaks people out, though."

"Your current form might, as you say, freak people out," said Clockwork. "If your summoners were, say, ants."

"Is that likely?"

"Not particularly. But consider the multiverse. Not all of your summoners will be human."

Danny crossed his arms, frustrated that there wasn't an easy solution. "I guess I could always shapeshift into something nonthreatening after. Hard to see if it's something safe without running into

"You can do more than that."

"I can?"

"Yes," said Clockwork, setting the pen to paper. "Let me show you."

The summoning circle shimmered and shivered as Constantine and Zatanna recited the chant, their voices rising and falling. Batman and other members of the League stood by, watching, waiting.

This, this ritual, wasn't their first choice. It wasn't their second, third, or fourth choice, either. But nothing else they had tried worked, and the entire world was at stake.

They were summoning the King of All Ghosts. An eldritch monstrosity that had once tried to conquer all realities. But the alternative was worse. Much worst. At least, with the King of All Ghosts, there was a chance that they could negotiate and that it'd want the Earth more or less intact for the sake of conquering it. At least, with this kind of summoning, they could offer a sacrifice, a bargain, a deal.

And if Constantine was good at anything, it was deals.

The lines of the summoning circle flared green, then pure white, and, without any other fanfare, the King of All Ghosts was there.

It filled the circle with starry darkness, struck with nebulae and aurorae. The clouds rippled as a star died near its heart, fiery cataclysms spreading throughout the being. A crown like the accretion disk of a black hole burned around its highest extremity.

Something like a voice, echoing and many-layered, emanated from the being. "Nghftùsh phlarûm âzgûm (1)." It paused, and the League felt it examine the area more closely. "Ko wgâ âzgûm nghftùsh derza. Ko gok hubhûfh fhtù gâh mglwnuh...(2)"

Constantine swore. "Oh, bollocks, I don't know that one. Would it be too much to ask that one of these things speak English? Just a little?"

"Nghftùsh ak. Ko ngngi. (3)"

"Zatanna," said Batman, "could a spell let us understand one another?"

"Kù-nghînku bùr fùmúu umni snîgûrip. (4)" It seemed to bend closer for all that it didn't move. "Nghftùsh laglúfhâk krîk ko phlî ak phlorza. Chthe nî hîhnâ, ka. (5)"

"I think I understand a little," said Captain Marvel, raising a hand. "I think it understands us just fine."

"Hagthu. Nghftùsh ngngi ùk nî chthe kûmpù nû gâ. (6)"

"It wants to get out of the circle," said Captain Marvel.

The veils of green light that shrouded the being rippled. "Dal phlù. (7)"

"Not without an agreement in place, you're not," said Constantine.

"Gagthashîzgathg. (8)"

"God," whispered Flash, "that hurts my throat just hearing it."

Batman shot him a glare, then stepped forward. They'd prepared a list of demands. Most of them were negotiable, but it was better to start something like this with things you were willing to remove or throw away. It took several minutes for Batman to read the whole thing.

"Ku. Chthal lohúfhâk hagthu. Fhta nghftùsh kâk phlorza ko thru. (9)"

"What did it say?" asked Batman.

"I'm... I think it said it'll do it, but it needs something from us in return."

Batman nodded. They'd expected something like this. Whatever it asked for, it would, without a doubt, be exorbitant. Then, they'd go back and forth, reducing each of their demands until they'd reached a deal both sides hated, but could accept. Constantine had bet that, at minimum, the King of All Ghosts would want the entire population of Earth as slaves.

"Nghftùsh kâk hû ko mglwno nî phnglâ gho-lobi. (10)"

"Uh," said Captain Marvel. "I think he said one of our lives."

"Hik! Rlo phlarâk kruk nîk ghû. (11)"

"Not just any of us," said Marvel. "It has to be someone who's a parent."

A tension fell over the room. They'd known they'd have to sacrifice something. A single life wasn't much, but for the King of All Ghosts to specify a parent...

"But are you sure it's just one?" pressed Constantine.

The King of All Ghosts gave off a sense of... exasperation? "Úzg, hû. (12)"

"One," said Captain Marvel. "Just one."

"And just us, not our kids or anything?"

"Nghftùsh ngngi ùk e nghuu. Gù phlarâk fush ko du? (13)"

"No, it doesn't want children. They're... wrong, somehow?"

"And it's not a sex thing?" Constantine sounded... strangely hopeful.

"Hik! Fhtùl! (14)"

"No," said Captain Marvel. "And... something about fat, maybe?"

"Oh, we're definitely getting eaten, then," said Constantine, with forced cheer. "I volunteer, then. It's not like my kids are sitting up waiting for me or anything."

"Hik nuk. Ngngi ko. E hâta phlarâk lerzaolûm. (15)"

"Not you, there's... something wrong with your soul."

"Oh, he's a picky eater, too, huh?"

"Let's not antagonize him, okay?" said Flash. "He's kind of-- He's kind of looming, right now."

And so it was. Somehow. Without moving.

"Who will... satisfy you?" asked Batman.

The entity did not move, but it managed to indicate Batman anyway.

"Very well," said Batman, before anyone could even attempt to talk him out of it. After all, his life for the lives of everyone in this universe was a very good deal. "Take me."

For the first time, the King of All Ghosts moved, all that darkness, all that light, rushing towards Batman.

There was a burst of blinding light.

When everyone opened their eyes again, a boy with black hair, blue eyes, and a jawline that bore more than a passing resemblance to Batman's was stepping out of the summoning circle.

"That's much better," he said, stretching. "No offense, dude, but you kind of suck at Ghost Speak." He turned to Batman. "What I was asking for was a template so I could exist in your universe and do what you want without accidentally blowing it up because of incompatible physics, but whatever. Not sure how you guys got me eating you out of that."

"You wanted a human appearance so you could better conquer this world?" asked Batman.

"Uh, no? You've got a pretty strong clause against conquering the world in your paperwork there. You're probably thinking about Pariah Dark, but he's old news." The boy smiled widely. "Let's get started on your problem, okay?"

I've been summoned.

You haven't summoned me before. You have a nice space station here...

I can. You can't.

Inter-dimensional language differences are so annoying.

I hope you can do something. This will be difficult, otherwise.

Good. I don't want to be in this circle forever.

Close enough.

Figures (literally, 'certainly').

Okay. That sounds good. But I need something from you.

I need one of you to be my template (literally, life-pattern).

No! It's like being a parent.

Yes, one.

I don't want your children. What is wrong with you?

No! Gross!

No way. Not you. You're crazy (literally, your soul is cracked).

#danny phantom #DPxDC #dp/dc

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sunarryn · 4 months ago

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DP X Marvel #16

It started, as these things often did, with Clockwork showing up at 3:07 AM in Danny’s bedroom and dragging him out of bed by the ankle like a disappointed father dealing with a child who had failed Algebra. Again.

“Wha—Clockwork?!” Danny shouted, flailing in his space-themed pajama pants as he was unceremoniously yanked into a swirling portal of green and purple time goop. “I have school in four hours!”

“You won’t need it where you’re going,” Clockwork said with the kind of deadpan that made you suspect he hadn’t laughed in several centuries.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It is.”

Next thing Danny knew, he was falling face-first onto a Persian rug that smelled faintly of incense, ancient secrets, and emotional trauma. He groaned and looked up just as a swirling portal closed behind him, revealing a tall, caped man sipping tea with the patience of a man who had seen God, mocked Him, and been promptly smacked in the face for it.

“Stephen Strange,” Clockwork said, materializing again because apparently he didn’t believe in exits, “meet Daniel Fenton. You’re going to teach him how to not accidentally vaporize the concept of space.”

“I what?” Danny blinked.

“Wait—this is the child you were talking about?” Strange said with a distinct expression of “I expected someone taller and more eldritch.”

Danny raised a hand. “Hi. Still in my pajamas. Please explain.”

Clockwork gave him a look. “You’ve been randomly tearing holes in the multiverse with your emotions. If you continue, you’ll accidentally delete the timeline where pizza was invented.”

Danny went pale. “That’s my favorite timeline!”

“That’s why you’re here.”

And that’s how Danny ended up training at the Sanctum Sanctorum instead of going to college like a normal eighteen-year-old. Not that Danny was ever normal. Or functional. Or even consistently corporeal at this point.

“Why is there a ghost teenager eating cold Pop-Tarts in my artifact room?” Wong asked the next morning, frozen mid-step with the sling ring still on his fingers.

“I live here now,” Danny said through a mouthful of Strawberry Frosted. “Clock Daddy said so.”

Wong stared at Strange. “We don’t even let you eat in here.”

“He’s technically a spectral demi-being empowered by quantum echoes,” Strange muttered. “I’m not sure he can be stopped.”

Danny quickly became the Sanctum’s chaos gremlin. The Cloak of Levitation hated him, loved him, used him as a chew toy, and then dragged him into a corner and cuddled him while he tried to watch anime at 2AM. Danny responded by naming it “Blanky.” The Cloak permitted this. Wong did not.

There was one particular week when Danny got stuck halfway between dimensions because he got emotional watching a Pixar movie. “I JUST—THEY FORGOT ABOUT BING BONG, STRANGE, THEY FORGOT—”

“Kid, I swear to the Vishanti, if you collapse another nexus realm because of children’s media—”

“HE SACRIFICED HIMSELF FOR JOY, OKAY?”

Training with Strange was like being punched in the brain repeatedly with Shakespearean insults and quantum theory. Danny tried. He did. But he was more of a vibes-based learner, while Strange was a “recite this 900-word incantation backwards while dodging metaphysical arrows” type of teacher.

“I can just blast it, though?” Danny argued, half-asleep, floating upside-down above the kitchen one night.

“No. No blasting. No phasing. No yelling ghostly wail and reducing my library to ash.”

“But I’m good at those!”

“You also set the Time Fractal on fire.”

“It had a face. It looked at me first.”

Clockwork would appear now and then, mostly to drop Danny cryptic warnings like “Avoid the one with the metal arm,” or “Never trust a raccoon with a gun,” or “Don’t play Uno with Loki. He cheats.”

“I don’t even know a Loki,” Danny protested.

“You will.”

Danny’s powers kept getting weirder. One time he coughed and spat up ectoplasm that turned into a sentient clone of himself, but with an Australian accent and a nicotine addiction. They had to banish him to the Mirror Dimension after he started flirting with Strange.

“Who made you like this?” Strange hissed, trying to undo the spell with rapidly twitching fingers.

“I think I made myself like this,” Danny whispered.

Somehow, the multiverse noticed. A portal opened on a Tuesday—because of course it did—and dropped in Peter Parker mid-panic with a half-dead demon strapped to his back and a terrified expression.

“HELP! I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING!”

Danny stared, eating a microwaved burrito. “Are you a spider?”

“Are you a ghost?!”

“Do you want a burrito?”

“Yes?!”

And that’s how Danny accidentally made a new best friend. Peter and Danny had exactly the same amount of brain cell(s), which meant Strange had to install magical barriers to keep them from combining into a singularity of disaster.

“Stop bringing the Spider-Child into my Sanctum!”

“He brought himself! Through a hole! In the air! Like me!”

“Oh god, there are two of them now,” Wong muttered, lighting incense aggressively.

The Sanctum slowly became a hub for the weird and unstable. Kamala Khan stopped by and declared Danny her new weird older cousin. America Chavez tried to punch him once and fell into his thermos. Loki found him and said, “Ah. You’re one of those,” and walked away very quickly.

One particularly cursed day, Tony Stark walked in, saw Danny floating above a bowl of ramen while casually moving furniture with his mind, and said, “Nope,” before immediately walking out.

Danny’s magic was…unconventional. When Strange taught him how to summon a shield, Danny ended up with a glowing neon green circle that said “NOPE” in ghostly cursive. When told to summon a blade, Danny pulled out a glowing halberd shaped like a Fenton Thermos with an axe edge.

“I call her ‘Big Suck.’”

“I hate you,” Strange said.

“I love me.”

Then came the Incident. Danny got bored, which, to be clear, is always the beginning of the apocalypse. He found a cursed artifact that looked like a snow globe with a tiny screaming soul inside and thought, this seems fun.

It was not fun.

He broke it open trying to use it as a nightlight and released an ancient chaos entity named The Unfathomable Carl. Carl had a god complex, seventeen mouths, and a Twitter account within four minutes of escaping.

“HOW DID HE EVEN GET A PHONE?!” Strange screamed while fending off a barrage of cursed pigeons.

“HE FOLLOWED ME ON INSTAGRAM!” Danny shouted from behind a sofa.

It took three Avengers, a packet of Mentos, and Danny screaming “YOU’RE NOT EVEN THAT SCARY, CARL!” to trap him back in the snow globe. Clockwork appeared mid-chaos, sipping ecto-tea.

“This was necessary for your growth,” he said calmly.

Danny hurled a shoe at him.

Eventually, Strange came to a horrifying realization: Danny wasn’t learning magic in the traditional sense. He was absorbing it. He was like a sponge that had been dunked in eldritch Kool-Aid and now radiated unpredictable power every time he sneezed.

“Do not, under any circumstance, let him near the Time Stone,” Strange told Wong.

“He already touched it.”

“WHAT?!”

“He said it ‘smelled like cosmic fruit roll-up’ and tried to lick it.”

“I HATE THIS CHILD.”

Danny was currently learning how to open a rift without screaming “YOLO” at the top of his lungs. Progress was…questionable.

“Did you just use Ebonic incantation slang to fold space?”

Danny grinned. “Magic, but make it ✨feral✨.”

“You’re going to give me an aneurysm.”

“I already gave Wong one.”

“You what—?”

At some point, Nick Fury showed up, stared directly into Danny’s glowing green eyes, and immediately called for backup.

“He’s a threat to national security.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“You’ve destroyed seven timelines.”

“Okay but they were minor timelines! Who needs a universe made of talking cats, anyway?”

“…I did.”

Even the Watcher started side-eyeing Danny like a nervous babysitter. Carol Danvers tried to spar with him once and ended up in a ghost trap he made out of duct tape and ambition. “I respect you,” she told him from inside the glowing cube. “But I hate you.”

“Get in line.”

By the time Danny hit six months of training, he’d accidentally absorbed a minor chaos god, reinvented ice magic as a form of dance-fighting, made friends with Mephisto (“He’s not that bad once you get past the brimstone”), and turned his hair permanently silver-blue from temporal exposure.

Strange sat in his chair, robes scorched, tea long gone cold.

“Wong,” he said softly. “I think the child is the apocalypse.”

Wong nodded solemnly. “And yet…I fear I love him.”

Danny phased through the wall with sunglasses and a churro. “Hey! Want to help me prank Odin?”

Strange sighed like a man whose karma had caught up with him.

“I’ll get the goat.”

And so it continued. Danny Phantom: Ghost Kid, Sorcerer-In-Training, Time-Space Menace, and unofficial emotional support chaos goblin of the multiverse. He may not have understood quantum geometry, astral projection, or taxes—but damn it, he had style.

And, apparently, a date with the Living Tribunal next Tuesday.

“I hear he’s into jazz,” Danny said. “Think I should bring cookies?”

“You’re going to destroy everything.”

“Yeah, but like—charmingly?”

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x marvel #danny phantom fanfiction #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu fandom #crossover #danny phantom fandom #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel fandom #marvel fanfic #dr stephen strange #dr strange #sorcerer supreme #clockwork

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zazaiafe2 · 23 days ago

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OUT-OF-BODY EXPERIENCE (OBE) COMPLETE GUIDE

1) What is an OBE (Out-of-body experience)?

An OBE is an experience where your conscious awareness separates from your physical body. People often describe floating above their bed, flying, or entering entirely different spaces or dimensions.

Whether you see it as a metaphysical experience, a shift in consciousness, or something else it’s valid.

2) Is it dangerous?

In short: No, it’s not physically dangerous.

Your body remains safe and asleep, and you’ll always return, even if the experience is intense or unusual.

However, here are important emotional safety tips:

Don’t force it when mentally exhausted or distressed.

Take breaks if your attempts are draining.

Ground yourself after each experience: eat, hydrate, journal, or touch something familiar.

If you ever feel overwhelmed, return to your body by gently focusing on your breath or wiggling your fingers/toes.

3) How to Induce an OBE, methods based on entry phase

a) From Sleep Paralysis (SP)

Sleep paralysis is one of the easiest entry points. If you wake up unable to move:

Stay calm. The fear is temporary.

Use a gentle technique:

“Roll out” of your body mentally.

Visualize floating or climbing.

Repeat: “I’m shifting outward, gently.”

Avoid thinking of your physical body. Focus outward or on a point in the room.

b) From micro-awakenings

These are small awakenings in the night, often lasting a few seconds to minutes.

When you wake up without moving, try a direct technique:

Visualize your DR (Desired Reality)

Use the rope technique (imagine pulling yourself up)

Affirm softly: “Now is the moment.”

Best when the mind is alert but the body is heavy.

c) From the Hypnagogic State

This is the twilight zone,mental images, twitching, floating.

Do not interfere too much. Just observe gently.

Once sensations build (vibrations, spinning, etc.):

Use the “sink deeper” method

Fall backward into the darkness

Whisper affirmations or visualize your DR portal

d) From WBTB (Wake Back To Bed)

This classic method involves:

1. Sleep for 4.5–6.5 hours

2. Wake up gently (no phone!)

3. Stay awake 10–30 min (drink water, read script More details in the bonus)

4. Return to bed and relax with:

Binaural beats (theta or delta)

Body scan

Light visualizations or affirmations

e) From “The phase” (Michael raduga method)

Raduga’s method is great. Here's a simplified version:

Set an intention to wake up without moving

When you wake up, immediately:

Try 3 techniques in 1 min:

→ Phantom limb movement

→ Imaginary rotation

→ Rolling out

If it doesn’t work, fall back asleep and try again during another micro-awakening.

Here is the PDF of his book, it will be very useful to you even if I will talk about it a little more later

4) How to Stabilize the Exit

Once you're out:

Stay calm.

Rub your hands together

Touch nearby objects

Avoid looking in mirrors too fast

Say mentally: “Clarity now” or “Stabilize”

Engage the senses, smell, sound, touch

If fading, spin slowly or fall backward or go back into your body and do induction techniques again

5) Why is shifting or OBE easier from these states?

Because the body is already in deep relaxation, often in REM or theta state, perfect for altered awareness.

Also:

The subconscious is more open

External distractions are minimal

There’s a natural detachment from the physical

→ This is why many shifters and lucid dreamers use WBTB + micro-awakenings to boost their success.

6) How to Shift from the OBE

Once outside the body, use one of the following:

Mirror method: Imagine standing in front of a mirror showing your DR

Portal jump: Visualize a doorway or light tunnel leading to your DR

Affirm:

“I am now fully in my Desired Reality.” or any affirmations that will help you

“My consciousness is where I choose it to be.”

Feel the emotion of your DR as if you're already there, that locks it in.

7) How to Enter the Void from the OBE

The Void is a state of pure awareness, no form, no body, just potential. To enter:

Let go of all imagery

Sink backward or fall into blackness

Mentally say: “Deeper,” “Stillness,” “Void now.”

If visuals appear, observe passively, don’t engage

Accept silence, stillness, or darkness as the goal, not a failure

Once in the Void, you can manifest instantly via pure thought or intention.

Notes: self-care & respect

These experiences are deeply personal. What works for one person may not for another.

Avoid burnout. Consistency > intensity.

Stay grounded in your beliefs and values. This practice can align with spirituality, science, curiosity, or self-healing, and all are valid.

Keep a journal. Celebrate small progress.

Rest. Hydrate. And don’t be afraid to take days off.

You're doing great. The door is always there, and you are already so close.

BONUS: WBTB & MICRO-AWAKENINGS FOR BOOSTED OBE SUCCESS

(I thought I would add some stuff about the Michael phase method because I found more interesting stuff )

Why WBTB works so well

The Wake Back To Bed method enhances the chance of OBE, lucid dreaming, and shifting because it:

Interrupts deep sleep, placing you in REM

Leaves the body relaxed but the mind lightly awake

Makes it easier to catch spontaneous micro-awakenings later in the night

How to do an effective WBTB

1. Sleep for 4.5–6.5 hours

2. Wake up with a gentle alarm (no harsh noise)

Use an app like Sleep as Android, with tasks to ensure light wakefulness

3. Stay awake for 10–30 min, depending on your brain type

Read your script, visualize your DR, do light breathing

4.Avoid strong lights / screens

Optional tip: Try wearing an eye mask, then remove it before going back to bed,the light contrast helps awareness

youtube

You can also watch these three seminars which can help you greatly with this

4. Set an intention:

"If I wake up later, I’ll stay still and shift or exit.”

Write this down physically, it reinforces memory

5. Return to bed with theta/delta frequencies and try:

Visualization (first-person perspective)

Body scan or phantom limb movement

Light affirmations only

Or listen to this subliminal

youtube

How to trigger micro-awakenings After WBTB

Use gentle sleep interruptions later in the night:

Drink a little water before bed, just enough to create bladder pressure

Peppermint oil under the nose or near your pillow

Slightly uncomfy position, diagonal, on the floor, etc.

This increases restless sleep and micro-awakenings

These are some common mistakes

Mental rehearsal:

Before sleep, think: “If I wake up during the night, I’ll stay still and shift.”

This primes your brain to catch the moment

Magnesium glycinate (check if safe for you) can promote lighter, more vivid REM sleep

How to shift or exit from a micro-awakening

This is the golden moment:

You just woke up in the night, don’t move.

→ Stay still. Keep eyes closed.

For OBE:

Try 1 “phase” techniques immediately (within 10–15 seconds):

If exit sensations increase (vibrations, floating, spinning): Let go and get out of your body.

If it doesn't work after a few seconds, immediately move on to a method cycle. And do 2-3 techniques if you can't feel a sensation of separation in 5 seconds move on to the other technique if it doesn't work after a minute or maximum 4 cycles put three to sleep and try again next micro awakening.

Important final Tips:

Micro-awakenings are fleeting, don’t hesitate, act quickly but gently

The goal is to act mentally while the body is still frozen in sleep inertia

If nothing happens, don’t panic. Drift back with intent: “Next time, I will succeed.”

I invite you to check out this Reddit post which has interesting testimonies and resources.

Ps : I found this meditation which apparently have a high rate of success

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box-writing · 4 months ago

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Choose your suito— I mean tutor!

⇥ summary— In a university library, two famous scholars stood among towering stacks of old books, each clenching a notepad filled with their meticulously crafted tutoring plans. Both were drawn by their admiration for a brilliant student who was struggling in their philosophy course, and each was determined to win their affection by helping [Name] excel. ⇥ contains— Dr. Ratio x gn! reader x Anaxagoras, 3rd POV, fluff, crack fic, crossover, modern-ish au??, college au, probably ooc, love triangle turned to love square, Al Haitham x reader at the end??👀 ⇥ a/n—English is not my first language. Apologies in advance for any grammatical errors. This is probably the longest fic I have written. Thank you, @yxzikari, for giving me yummy ideas along the way.

In a university library, two famous scholars stood among towering stacks of old books, each clenching a notepad filled with their meticulously crafted tutoring plans. Both were drawn by their admiration for a brilliant student who was struggling in their philosophy course, and each was determined to win their affection by helping [Name] excel. However, their growing rivalry quickly transformed the library into a battleground of ideas, as Veritas passionately argued the merits of his expertise in metaphysical theories, while Anaxagoras countered with claims of his unique teaching style.

“I find myself most exquisitely positioned to be [Name]’s suito–ahem, mentor.. My teachings are far superior than yours.”

“Have you been graced by the divine, such that you might utter these baseless words?”

As the intensity of their debate escalated, their voices grew louder, echoing through the quiet library, drawing the attention of several onlookers. In the middle of the two scholars, [Name] sat hunched over the books that were given by Ratio and Anaxa, rubbing their temples in both frustration and embarrassment.

Both of you are giving me a headache! [Name] groaned, gripping their head as each raised voice felt like a hammer against the skull, as the noise of competing philosophies blurred into an unintelligible jumble.

[Name] glanced up, eyes narrowed, wishing for a moment of peace to focus on reviewing for their final exam. With a loud sigh, [Name] decided to intervene. They stood up, arms crossed, and called out to them, their voice cutting through the argument.

"Could you two please keep it down? I appreciate that you both are willing to help me with my upcoming exam, but I need to study, and your arguments are giving me a headache!" A hush fell over the library as both scholars exchanged sheepish glances, suddenly aware of how their rivalry had spiraled out of control. Realizing that they had inadvertently made the very person they wanted to impress uncomfortable, they quickly stopped their bickering.

Finally, as the two bickering scholars quieted down, [Name] sat down and focused on their study, until—

“[Name]? Are you there?” A familiar voice called out, breaking [name]’s temporary focus.

“Al Haitham, you're here!” [Name] smiled as they excitedly packed all their study materials and headed straight to the grey-haired man, not before thanking the two scholars who were previously tutoring them. “Thank you both for letting me borrow your textbooks, I appreciate it!”

The two can only watch as their [Name] walks to the grey-haired man, quetly muttering something that you cannot quite hear.

Al Haitham gives [Name] a nod as he takes their backpack off their shoulders, “Do you need tutoring? I heard you're having a hard time.”

“Yes, please! I can't seem to process this topic for me.”

As the two of you headed to the exit, you didn't notice how Al Haitham looked back at the two scholars, a smug look on his face. Mouthing something that seemed to anger the two scholars.

“I win.”

wc— 522.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #dr ratio x reader #hsr dr ratio #hsr anaxa #anaxa x reader #anaxa hsr #hsr anaxagoras #al haitam x reader #alhaitham #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham x reader

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queen-of-signs · 3 months ago

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Mercury ☿️🧩 and Mercury Retrograde 🔁💭 as Darakaraka - Mercury’s Speed, Rx’s Pause. (Long Post)

Note: These are just my personal observations and recurring patterns I've noticed over the years from married clients, relatives and friends. Take what resonates with you and leave the rest. Feel free to share in the comments if any of this hits home. This post is based on Vedic astrology.

Read Moon as DK!

DK: The planet with the lowest degree in your birth chart that holds your deepest desires for a partner like your soul's "Wanted Ad" scribbled in cosmic ink. It shows the kind of spouse you attract and what your heart secretly craves in relationships.

Mercury as DK - The eternal youth you can't quite catch

If Mercury is your Darakaraka, you're drawn to someone vibrant, playful, and full of life, a partner who feels forever young, whether they’re actually younger in age or just young at heart. Friendship plays a central role in your relationship; without it, there’s no real bond.

In some cases, your spouse might be from your neighborhood or hometown, depending on Mercury’s sign and house placement. This is someone who thrives on conversation. They’ll talk about everything under the sun, from the mundane to the metaphysical and they’ll expect you to keep up. They're curious, eager, and mentally restless. Pinning them down may feel impossible at times, and commitment doesn't come easily. But once they do commit, they stay loyal as long as you continue to stimulate their mind. Boredom is their exit cue.

If Mercury is afflicted, this energy can turn slippery. There may be issues with flirtation, inappropriate messaging, or a tendency to connect with others behind your back more out of curiosity than emotional betrayal. They’ll have a large circle of friends and acquaintances, though many of these connections are fleeting. Still, wherever they go, they somehow know someone.

They’re socially versatile, a true dual-natured person. They won’t act the same way with everyone and often shift between extroverted charm and introverted retreat. Your spouse may be ambiverted, multifaceted, and never dull but sometimes exhausting, especially if Mercury sits in a house or sign prone to nervous or scattered energy. Their chatter can drain you if you’re not grounded.

This is someone who can end relationships quickly, change their mind in under a minute, and won’t hesitate to walk away from anything that no longer serves them. They're adaptive, not cold though others might mistake this for being two-faced or inconsistent. The truth? They’re just wired to evolve, and fast.

They may be incredibly close to an elder sibling or their father (if present), and it's also possible they’re the youngest in their family and perhaps the favorite in their family. Their ever-changing nature often leads others to call them a chameleon.

But beneath all this is a pure soul, someone who truly wants a partner who’s both a best friend and a lifelong companion. If you have two kids, count your Mercury DK spouse as the third as they’ll bring a childlike wonder to life that never really goes away.

And in conversation? One moment they’re speaking like a 5-year-old, the next like a 90-year-old philosopher. It all depends on who’s in the room.

Mercury Rx as Darakaraka - The quite mind that thinks too loud

When Mercury Rx is your Darakaraka, your spouse may be noticeably younger than you often by seven years or more. This age gap isn’t subtle; it marks a difference not just in years, but in how the two of you move through the world. They often come across as the black sheep in their family or the one who doesn’t quite fit in with their relatives.

They might keep a journal, or at the very least, an overflowing notes app. Private, observant, and introspective, this is someone who seems mature beyond their years yet clings to the wonder of youth. They cancel plans last minute, usually with an excuse, but they’re not flaky by nature, just protective of their time, space, and energy. They care deeply about the people close to them but rarely say everything on their mind. They’d rather hold their opinions than risk sounding harsh.

Well-read and quietly brilliant, your spouse may be deeply into literature, comics, cartoons even in their 30s. Childhood nostalgia isn’t a phase; it’s a lifestyle. Whether it’s collecting Pokémon shirts, holding onto childhood toys, or gaming deep into the night, their inner child is alive and well. They live online more than offline, and when they talk, their eyes often wander like they’re reading invisible text as they speak.

When it comes to expressing themselves, it’s not a lack of words, it’s an overflow. Their brain fires off 500 words at once, but only 20 words make it out. Their speech is calculated, cautious, and deliberate. Often late bloomers, they tend to realize life’s biggest lessons slowly, over time usually after 25. You may also notice they hold on to baby fat or have that eternal baby-faced look that follows them into adulthood.

Your connection with them will be either deeply intuitive or wildly misaligned, there’s rarely an in-between. They’re the kind of person who dissects movies and breaks down comic arcs on Reddit or in YouTube comment threads like it’s their side job. Whether rich or not, they’ll dress modest, lowkey, and never flashy. You can’t impress them with money, and they don’t try to impress anyone either.

Love usually comes late for them, often after 25 and so do their best decisions. They mature quietly, gradually. Emotionally, they may be distant from at least one parent, often due to a strict or overly demanding upbringing. They may be an only child or the “golden child,” especially if close to a parent. If they have a younger sibling, the bond is profound, their younger sibling might even be their true best friend or emotional anchor.

They prefer texting over calling and are far more present online than in real life. Their social life might be limited not from disinterest, but because their anxiety level is basically 999.

Mercury + Saturn: Your spouse has that HR manager energy like commanding, composed, and maybe just a little too fond of talking over others to make sure they're heard. Listening? That comes second. If Mercury is retrograde with Saturn, expect someone who’s emotionally reserved, detached in family matters, and fiercely private about work, salary, and social ties. They won’t open up until they’re convinced you’re not going anywhere. Otherwise, they’ll ghost you just to beat you to the punch. Night-shift worker energy. Career above chaos.

Mercury + North Node (Rahu): This spouse has a voice that stands out that's unique, magnetic, and powerful. They know how to talk their way to the top and won't hesitate to cut ties with people who block their path. They move on fast, without drama. If retrograde, you’re looking at a sharp-tongued writer or communicator with a razor wit. They can eviscerate someone in less than ten words, all while keeping a deadpan expression. They know which nerve to hit and they’ll hit it with surgical precision.

Mercury + Sun: This is the loud-talker type. You’ll hear them across the room, on the phone, or possibly across state lines LOL. They laugh loudly, speak louder, and blast music like it’s a personality trait. Their phone contact list? Endless and their phone hangs a lot. If retrograde, the same energy simmers beneath a quieter surface. Calm, composed but their stare feels like a courtroom judge who knows your browser history. Their words are thunderbolts: they either expose truths or strike with sharp clarity.

Mercury + Moon: Your spouse is a charming smooth-talker like the prince or princess of flirtation. They know how to woo and will 100% brag about it to their friends the next day. They’re likely to get along well with your mother too. If retrograde, they’ll still be respectful, but distant. They might feel excluded from your family dynamic and quietly expect you to just know how they feel even if they never say it. They tend to stay away from your friend circle, preferring emotional distance to forced socializing.

Mercury + Venus: This is refined charm. Your spouse speaks with elegance and grace, sounding polished and high-standard. They're desirable and well aware of it, which can make them slow to commit. But if Saturn aspects this, they'll become family-oriented when committed. If North Node aspects or conjoins, watch for potential flirtations outside the relationship or affairs. If retrograde, your spouse is likely of higher status, reserved, and quietly powerful. They won’t flaunt their wealth or background, and if Saturn is also involved, expect some intense loyalty tests. With North Node, secrets about their past may surface or stay buried, avoided for the sake of peace.

Mercury + Mars: You’ve got a firecracker here. Your spouse uses strong language, smirks, winks, and defends you like it’s a sport. One day they’re generous, the next day they’re calculating all depending on your last argument. If retrograde, they hold grudges long-term and can go full dormant volcano like quiet for years, then suddenly erupting. They're a sweet angel until provoked… then it's nightmare mode unlocked.

Mercury + Jupiter: Here, your spouse might be a foreigner, multilingual, or both. They’re philosophical and open-minded. If Jupiter is retrograde, they may still be foreign but the joke is, you speak their language, and they don’t fully understand yours. A poetic mismatch, but it somehow works.

Mercury as Darakaraka by House Placement: When the Mind Marries the Message

1st House: Your spouse has a distinct voice maybe not just in tone, but in how they speak and present themselves. Think public speakers, HR heads, high-level managers, even police officers roles where communication, connections, and mental agility matter. If Mercury is retrograde, they may earn well but keep finances private or appear modest. Silent achiever energy.

2nd House: This is the money magnet. Charming and clever, your spouse has the uncanny skill of turning ideas into income. They attract investors and partnerships naturally. If retrograde, the money still flows but they keep it under wraps. Private about business, skeptical with trust, and never one to flaunt what they own. Where direct Mercury shows it, Rx Mercury whispers it.

3rd House: A wide social circle, opinionated, and deeply rooted in hometown or sibling bonds, your spouse lives through communication and community. If retrograde, they flip the script: don’t care what anyone thinks, won’t seek validation, and will love you even if no one else does. Private-social balance = mastered. Rx or not, can sing decent.

4th House: They’ll either remind you of a parent, comforting or slightly annoying or literally take on that nurturing role. They might murmur complaints or offer support in equal measure. If retrograde, the home is their nervous system. Small disruptions irritate them. They dislike crowds, quiet is sacred, and they’re mentally everywhere at once.

5th House: Your spouse is flexible and playful like one moment 10 years old, the next 80. They can be your best friend, your child, your muse. Count them as your first kid, emotionally. If retrograde, expect social anxiety. You’re the designated speaker at restaurants, cafés, or anywhere involving strangers. You're not just the partner, you're the unofficial spokesperson.

6th House: Approachable, kind, and relatable and classic boy/ girl-next-door charm. Easy to connect with and emotionally grounded. If retrograde, there’s still relatability, but expect sync issues. Either you're perfect puzzle pieces… or totally mismatched socks.

7th House: Your spouse is either younger than you or just permanently 16 at heart. Fun, flirty, and fresh. If retrograde, they’ll still be significantly younger but they’ll be the adult in the relationship. The voice of reason. The one who reminds you to grow up.

8th House: Mysterious, magnetic, and serpent-like with their words and your spouse can charm and disarm. Their words may feel like honey… or a trap. If Mercury's with Rahu, they might use people for personal gain. If retrograde, they keep opinions hidden but are deeply curious, into the occult, conspiracy theories, UFOs, and anything off-grid. Rx or not, this one loves the unknown.

9th House: Speaks more than one language, watches world cinema, and could be from a different culture. Long-distance relationships, summer romances, or online connections are big themes. If retrograde, an online connection or appears out of the blue into your life becomes even more likely, think “DM to lifelong partner” energy.

10th House: Career-focused and multi-talented, your spouse gives advice freely sometimes even when no one asked. They're the type to tell others how to do things better. If retrograde, their multitasking is subtle genius. Dry humor, no need for recognition. Recognition finds them anyway or doesn’t, they’re fine either way.

11th House: Unusual voice, speaks more than one language, possibly met at a tourist spot, event, or social function. If retrograde, online meeting or at an airport is likely. They might struggle to “fit in” but with you, they find their people. Private, digital, nerdy, deeply connected.

12th House: Big foreign energy here. Your spouse may be from another country or lives far away from you, and you might even settle in their state/ country. They could propose fast like 3-6 months fast. Soul ties override timelines. If retrograde, the speed still applies. You’ll speak their language more than they speak yours but the emotional fluency? Unmatched. Different on the outside, same deep-down.

Next post will be about having Venus as Darakaraka!

Wanna go deeper into the layers of your placements? DM me for a complete astrology reading or a 5 year/8 year marriage report or synastry reading🌙💬 and check out my pinned post for pricing + details 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐

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emmafrostdefender · 1 year ago

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a fine line between god and animal | logan howlett x fem reader

chapter 1 - biting the apple | masterlist | read the prologue first

two new mutants arrive at the mansion.

i am churning this thing out and i have a very specific direction that i'm going to take it. the story does not really follow the canon plot because that would be boringgg. trust me, i know where this bus is heading. i hope you stay along for the ride! figuratively and literally! wink wink

warnings: cursing, religion, religious trauma, fighting, canon typical violence, 5.5k words

━━━━━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━━━━━

“Before you all leave, I want to give you food for thought. One of the heaviest themes of Frankenstein revolves around the idea of nature versus nurture. Is the creature inherently evil, or was his treatment by society what turned him into a monster?” You pose the question to your students as class comes to a close.

The similarities to your own existence is not lost on you. You hope the metaphor clicks in their minds as it did yours when you first read the classic novel. Charles made it assigned reading when he taught comparative literature at the school. When you were old enough, you took the job. And you were inspired by some of his lessons, of course.

“We will be discussing this theme next week, so those of you that haven’t done your reading…” You don’t finish your sentence, but make a face that communicates all they need to know.

Your students leave the classroom and you slump against your desk. Despite your outside calm, inside your thoughts are racing.

Scott and Ororo aren’t back yet and you feel as if you could break something. Or a million somethings.

The reasonable part of you knows that if something bad happened, Charles would know and tell you immediately. But the unreasonable part of you wants to drain your energy source to find them. To sneak your mind around the globe until you pick up on their footsteps crunching the ground or their signature heartbeats sending pulses into the air.

Before you can stop yourself, your feet are carrying you to the door that leads to the underground base of the X-Men. You’re going stir crazy.

Earlier in the day, before classes started, you assisted Jean in refining her powers. She wasn’t able to move a car with her mind, but she managed to start the engine without a key in the ignition. To you, that seemed more impressive. To the professor, it was exactly what he didn’t want. He wanted her to control her powers.

That word again. Control.

His reactions to Jean’s issues made you all the more wary to reveal your own struggles. With the recent revelation of Magneto’s scheme to abduct you, hesitancy bubbled up in your chest at adding anything more to Charles’ metaphorical plate. You would just be a burden.

Exiting the elevator, you enter the completely metal hallway, something of a labyrinth to newcomers. Your shoes echo against the metal and you look from left to right. No one else graces your path as you walk to the training room. There is another one upstairs that the students use when training with Scott, but you personally prefer this one. Far away from onlookers.

Your abilities don’t necessarily lend themselves to you having any physical prowess, but you managed to get trained up quite well in your years at the mansion. “The metaphysical is very much so connected to the physical. The health of your powers could very well depend on the health of your body,” Charles told you long ago.

With nothing to do but wait, you change into the clothes from your locker and wrap your knuckles with tape. The large room is empty and you approach a punching bag. You begin.

The rhythm you find is steady and fast. Hit after hit, blow after blow. The bag swings on its chain, bouncing back and forth between your hands. You punch and punch and punch, feeling anger build in your system. In your mind's eye, you see the bloody heart that was stolen from your chest. You see the chains holding you down. You see your mother’s face, staring at you in disgust. You see vines. Thousands of vines, each reaching to wrap themselves around your body, your arms, your legs, your neck. They rip the cross from your necklace, leaving a stinging brand there. You see your father’s lifeless form.

And you feel your skull starting to split open when a voice says your name.

You nearly scream at the intrusion and your head flies around. “Holy shit, Jean! I could’ve killed you!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” she says with hesitancy. She’s looking at you like you’re a wounded animal about to lash out. Her eyes flit to the punching bag over your shoulder.

You look at it and gape at your handiwork. The bag ripped at the seams and sand spilled from the tears onto the ground.

“Imagining Scott’s head?” She jokes, but it sounds strained. You hardly hear it.

You still stare at the punching bag, not quite sure what to make of this. You losing control was as infrequent as pigs flying, so…never.

A soft hand touches your shoulder. “Are you okay?” Jean asks so caringly.

You rip your gaze from the bag and look at her. You change your expression from one of near tears to one of slight amusement. “Must’ve gotten a little too enthusiastic.”

She analyzes you quickly, so quick you might’ve missed it if you didn’t know her so well. “I wanted to let you know that the jet is on its way back. They were able to locate the mutants.” You feel something in your chest relax. “Not in record time, though.”

You smirk. “Of course not. They didn’t have me.”

“Can you come help me prep the bay for when they get here?”

You nod. “Just let me change and I’ll meet you there.”

She turns to walk away and you watch her leave. Your gaze drops to your hands, where the tape did nothing to prevent the bruises forming around your knuckles. Looking at the clock hanging above the entrance, you realize two hours have passed. It’s nearly ten o’clock.

As you enter the locker room, you swear you can still feel burning skin where your cross lays.

You enter the loading dock of the jet in your regular attire and are greeted by Jean and the professor. They seem to be in deep discussion when you arrive, but snap their heads up the second they sense you coming. You can tell they were talking about you.

You plaster a smile on your face and say sarcastically, “Looks like they managed to find them without me, after all.”

“They would’ve been here an hour after they left if you were with them, I’m sure,” Jean says with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Obviously.”

You shift your attention to Charles, who has begun using a computer to track the jet’s movements. Jean starts working the switchboard. You ask, “How many mutants did they pick up?”

His gaze does not move from the computer. “Two. A young girl and an older man. They were on separate paths until they met and started traveling together.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What made you think to bring them here?”

Charles has always been slightly particular when choosing the people to bring to his school. And even more hesitant to bring fully grown adults. At your question, his eyes shift to yours. “Why did I bring you to this school?”

You blink.

“To offer you protection. To offer you safety from a world that hurt you repeatedly. And to help you understand your abilities and use them for good. Not just to teach you Latin and calculus,” he adds with a smile.

You nod, but still have a lingering question. “But why--”

He cuts you off, “Why am I bringing an adult man to our mansion as well?” He pauses. “Because he is extremely powerful. That kind of power can either be used toward the greater good, or harnessed for evil.”

By Erik.

“I see,” you say, hand mindlessly playing with your necklace.

Charles returns to the computer and says to you and Jean, “Get ready, they are nearly here.”

You are usually a part of the retrieval missions, making you less used to assisting with arrivals. However, you bring out two stretchers from the medical room and place them neatly by the door after getting a call from the jet. “They were in a rough fight with one of the members of the Brotherhood and the man is out cold. We think he has regenerative abilities so he isn’t badly injured, but the girl was with him when they got into a car accident. She’ll need attention. She’s jarred, but not unresponsive,” Ororo says.

Another of your jobs on the team is designated medic. You have innate knowledge of the human body and medical herbs because of your powers. It was never something you questioned when you were younger. If you scratched your arm or busted your lip open, you would skip into the woods and find something natural to heal yourself. Still, you begged Charles not to assign you to teaching biology. You despised the subject.

The ceiling of the hangar opens to reveal a velvety night sky. You feel the jet before you see it, the push it has on the trees around the mansion tingle your fingertips. The trees' movements stir your power source in your stomach, a warm, buttery feeling. The sleek aircraft lowers gently into the bay, your hair being pushed over your shoulders by the air movement. You feel relief at the sight of your friends returning from the mission; they exit the jet and you smile. Your grin droops at the sight of their expressions.

“We need you to look over these two, stat,” Scott says with urgency.

You hurriedly bring the stretchers to the jet’s ramp and enter the main compartment with Scott and Ororo. Inside, they point you to a young girl, maybe sixteen years old, with brown hair and a soft face sitting in one of the seats. The two of them work to remove the man who sits slouched over in one of the front seats. The way they grunt, you’d think he weighs a ton.

The girl’s hands are wrapped tightly around the straps keeping her to the chair. When you approach, she jumps and stares at you with terrified eyes. “Hi, honey,” you say calmly. You introduce yourself. “I’m going to be taking care of you, okay? I just need you to undo these straps.”

She shakes her head tightly. “I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” You ask.

She thinks between the two options and asks, “Am I safe?”

Your heart breaks. Upset coils in your stomach at the thought of all the people who have hurt this little girl. “Yes. You’re safe here.”

She seems to think this over and makes her decision. Her hands shakily unlatch themselves from the straps and move to unbuckle herself. You reach to help her, but she flinches. “Don’t touch me, please,” she says with desperation.

Your hands retract immediately.

“I just, it’s my…” she struggles with the words. “I hurt people when they touch me.”

You nod in understanding. That must have been a terrifying revelation for her. “That’s okay. We’ll get you all sorted out here. You are okay.”

She seems to relax a bit. You look over your shoulder and see your two friends lugging the man down the ramp and rolling him onto the stretcher. If this were any other scenario, you would laugh at Scott for struggling so much.

You turn back to the girl and say, “And what’s your name?”

“Marie-- I mean, Rogue.” The way she says it makes you think she is still trying out the name for size.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Rogue.” You look her over and ask, “Are you able to walk or do you need help?”

She has undone the straps and sits a bit more forward in her chair. “I think I can stand.”

Rogue puts weight on her leg as she moves to stand up, but winces at the feeling and immediately sits back down.

“Can I touch your clothes or is that also a problem?”

“You can. It’s just my skin.”

You sling her arm over your shoulder, careful not to touch any exposed skin, and help her out of the chair. “Just put your weight on me, hon’.”

She does as you say and leans against you completely. When you have exited the jet, you help her sit on the stretcher. The others have left, presumably to attend to the man. Charles is the only one left and he moves his wheelchair over to greet the young girl. “What is this place?” she asks after his introduction.

“It’s a place for people like you. And me. And her.” He points to you and you feel yourself smile. “It’s somewhere safe.”

Your gloved hand moves carefully over Rogue’s legs, feeling for any fractured bones or torn skin invisible to the eye.

She’s been relatively quiet for the duration of her examination, but she asks, “So, what can you do?”

You look up at her and grin. “I can do a lot of things.” You stand and walk to the shelves of potted plants on the wall to your right. You hold up one of the more pathetic looking plants and say, “See how this one is all wilted?”

Rogue nods.

You pull your glove off with your teeth. “Watch this.”

Once your hand rests delicately against the plant’s stem, its wilting flowers perk up. A lush green color returns to its body, becoming perfectly healthy again. You look over at her and her mouth is gaping at the sight. “But why do you keep all the plants here if they’ll die without you?”

You put the plant back in its place and slip your glove back on. As you make your way back to the examination table, you say, “That’s exactly why. The professor used it as a tool to help me understand my importance here. To help me distinguish between the big parts of my powers and the smaller, more delicate parts.” You shrug as you grab some medical tape meant to alleviate and correct sprains. “I also like having company when I’m down here.”

“Company?” she asks when you kneel before her again to start wrapping her ankle.

“They talk to me,” you say, slightly mischievously.

Her mouth gapes again. “So, that’s your mutation? Talking to plants?”

“It’s a lot deeper than that. The Earth and I are like two sides of the same coin. Through our connection, I can track people if they are grounded. I can grow and heal things, but also kill them. I can create beauty, but also take it away. And I’m recently starting to realize I’m much more connected to humans than I thought.”

She considers this as you finish wrapping her ankle.

You laugh a little. “Most of those are Professor X’s words, not mine.”

Charles arrives after a few minutes of comfortable silence, asking Rogue to come with him. You give her a small smile and tell her, “Make sure to drink those herbs with water once every day. It’ll help the pain.”

She gives you a tentative smile back.

Before she leaves, you squeeze her gloved hand. “You’re gonna do great.”

Once the two of them are gone, you decide it's time to check on Jean and the man. She took him to the laboratory where digital scans of mutants’ brains and bodies could be completed. You walk down the hall and enter the door to the left, seeing Jean in her white lab coat. She is analyzing what looks to be brain waves on the monitor in front of her. “Oh, good,” she says when she turns to see you. “I wanted you to take a look at him. See if there’s anything I’m missing.”

You approach the table where he lays and take your first real look at him.

He is shirtless to allow the nodes and wires access to his chest. You scan over his body, seeing no obvious outer injuries. His face is calm in his induced state of comatose, but etched with what seems like a permanent line between his eyebrows. You have the urge to smooth it with your thumb.

“His name is Logan Howlett. He has extremely impressive regenerative abilities.”

Your eyes continue to study the ridges of his face. “Is that his mutation?” The thought of Charles saying he is a very powerful mutant crosses your mind.

“That’s part of it. Once he wakes up, we'll give him a chance to tell us more. And then we’ll do a full body scan; Charles thinks there’s something else to him. He’s not wrong. Logan’s brain activity is far different from anyone I’ve ever seen,” she says in slight awe.

You continue to gaze at him. There is something else to him. Something you can’t quite place.

“Could you check his vitals for me? I didn’t notice anything strange, but I want to be sure,” Jean asks.

Hesitancy fills your body. For some reason, you don’t want to touch him. Some sort of dread pits in your stomach. Something will happen.

Despite your body’s strange resistance, you nod curtly. You approach the table and lean over him. His scent fills your nose. It’s woodsy and smokey, all mixed with something metal that twinges your nostrils. You close your eyes and inhale, pressing your hand to his chest. In a second, you’ve been pulled to him, a vice grip around your wrist. Jean yells and starts pulling at your shoulders. Your body goes alive and you twist your arm around and headbutt him, causing him to loosen his grip on you. However, the moment your skull collides with his, you nearly pass out from the impact. It feels like he’s made of metal.

“Oh, my God,” you groan, collapsing to the floor. Your head is throbbing.

Before you or Jean can react, he’s jumped off the table. It looks like he’s grabbed six knives and placed them between his fingers. “Where the hell am I?” he shouts.

Jean holds up her hands, but you’re still recovering on the floor, holding your forehead in your hands. Jesus, fuck. You hope He will excuse your language.

“You’re at Xavier’s School for Mutants in New York. We aren’t going to hurt you,” Jean says calmly. “Well, not anymore.” Her eyes flick down to you and you make a face.

“It wasn’t my fault he fucking attacked me,” you say with narrowed eyes. You glance at him, annoyance replacing the pain that had swept across your forehead. “What’s with the claws?” you ask, now realizing that what you thought were knives were actually thin metal spikes protruding from between his knuckles.

He stares at you, chest heaving. Then back at Jean. Fury clouds his eyesight, but you know there’s fear in there, too.

“Look, we’re not going to hurt you. You’re safe here,” Jean says again. “I just need you to calm down and we can talk.”

The throbbing has eased and you make your way to stand.

Something like a sarcastic grin falls on his lips. “Oh, sure, we can talk.”

You position yourself, readying for a fight. “Get Scott,” you say to Jean quietly.

“You sure?” she whispers back.

“Yeah, I’ve got this.”

She looks between the two of you for a moment, then runs out of the room. You hear her shoes echo in the hallway.

“You really want to do this, bub?” he asks in a voice so quiet, you nearly miss it.

You watch him carefully. You know that you’ll never beat him, but you can keep him occupied until reinforcements arrive. “Do you really want to do this?” you respond with a grin.

Something lights in his eyes, something thrilling that makes your heart pound. He pounces, jumping over the table, his claws aiming for your throat. You dodge the attack, rolling to the side. You are back on your feet in an instant, crouching low to the ground. “Got anything else in you, big boy?” you tease, grin spreading wider at his fuming expression.

He yells, running at you with a speed you wouldn’t think him capable of. He shoves you to the ground with retracted claws and you grunt at the impact, but kick his legs out from under him, causing him to fall to the floor as you crawl away. He yanks your leg, making you stumble once more. You kick with all your might, but he won’t let go. Thinking you might be the stupidest person alive, you let him drag you so you’re pinned beneath him. “Sexy,” you say with a wink.

You can feel his steady heartbeat this close. "You're annoying," he hisses. You see his eyes drop to the cross around your neck and take that as your opportunity to kick him in the groin. He grunts and his hold around you weakens. You shove him off of you and stand to make a move for the door. You don’t think he’ll kill you, but you don’t want to take that chance.

Before you reach the door, an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you harshly against a solid body. You hadn’t noticed before, but he’s tall. Very tall. “Where do you think you’re going?” he whispers in your ear.

It sends a thrill down your spine.

“Are you always this friendly?” you whisper back, hand coming up to touch his arm. Your fingers hardly wrap around his forearm.

In the blink of an eye, he has detached himself from you, falling to the floor. Your fingers tingle from the use of your power, slowing his heart rate enough that he would go unconscious, but not enough to kill him. With his regenerative abilities, though, you assume he’ll be back on his feet in about five minutes. You hardly ever use that ability, finding it invasive. With this man, however, you think your actions are justified.

You nudge his leg with your foot when Jean and Scott come running in. “Holy shit, you took him out yourself?” Scott asks incredulously.

“I just slowed his heart rate so that he wouldn’t break all the bones in my body. I appreciate your faith in me, though, Scott,” you say, wiping your brow.

He approaches the man on the floor, coming to stand beside you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. He nearly broke my skull, though.”

Scott raises a brow.

“How are we going to get him adjusted if he won’t speak to us without starting a fight?” Jean asks as she starts to fix the state of the room.

“I think our best bet is to leave him alone,” you say.

Scott looks at you. His visor blocks his eyes, but you can tell they are looking at you as if you are crazy. “Leave him alone? He’ll wreak havoc trying to find a way out.”

You shrug. “I think there’s someone who might be able to convince him to stay.”

“Better than getting a face full of claws,” Jean says, glancing at his limp body.

Exhaustion washes over you when you take the elevator back upstairs. It’s three in the morning and the events of the day are finally hitting you square in the chest.

You slump against the metal railing of the elevator, relishing in the silence. Jean and Scott stayed with Logan to put him in a state of deep sleep so that he wouldn’t go stalking around the mansion at night. You could imagine how some poor child would react to running into such a large and imposing man in the middle of the night. It would be terrifying.

You run your fingers through your hair and pinch the bridge of your nose. His smell lingers around you, crowding your space.

What a prick.

Fighting you like that when all you wanted to do was help him? What was he going to do? Kill you?

A part of you wants to believe that he wouldn’t do that, but another part of you understands that he would’ve done anything to get out of here.

Logan.

You test the name out on your tongue. You wonder if he has another name, too. Something all of his enemies know by heart.

Deciding that that was enough thinking for the night, you shut your brain off and exit the elevator. You make your way to your bedroom and collapse on your bed, sleep hitting you like a bus.

You wake, body aching and head throbbing. Although you managed to escape the fight with no outer wounds, your body protests as you remove yourself from your bed. Thank God it’s Saturday.

Thankfully, your mind allowed you a break from the night terrors that plagued you so frequently, instead replacing them with dreams of walking through a forest. As you walked farther into the dank, the trees began to die, but you woke before anything else could happen.

You get ready for the day and make your way downstairs. In the kitchen, you see Ororo sitting at the counter with a mug of coffee in her hands. Before you can voice your question, she says, “There’s some in the pot.”

You grin and pour the coffee into your bright pink mug along with the creamer that sits by the pot. Scott calls the shade an affront to the color pink. “So…” you start.

“He isn’t awake yet. Charles thinks he’ll be up in an hour or so.”

Relief slumps your shoulders and you take a seat across from her, moving the coffee around in your mug before you take a sip. “He is crazy strong, Ororo,” you scoff. “It felt like his skeleton was made of metal. And his claws…” You shake your head.

“Charles thinks he’ll be useful to us.”

“I know. I just hope he calms down a bit.”

Ororo gives you a sheepish smile. “You have to admit, he is handsome, though.”

You laugh. “That’s the impression he gave you?”

She shrugs. “I might have a different one if I had to fight him.”

You contemplate her statement. You suppose he was handsome, but it didn’t startle you when you first saw him. It was the kind of beauty that creeps up and you don’t realize it until you’ve been staring at them for too long. He was rugged, yes, but there was something enticing about his looks. A boyish quality. You remember the smirk that donned his face when he challenged you to a fight.

You shake your head. “Yeah, he definitely made an interesting impression.”

The two of you leave the kitchen once some of the older students begin filing in, many making their own breakfasts instead of eating the provided meal with the other students in the dining room. “Are we training today?” you ask as the two of you walk down the main hall.

“I think Charles wants us to wait until he’s spoken with Logan. Wants us to meet him properly.”

You roll your eyes. ‘Meet him properly.’ Tackling someone to the ground isn’t a proper greeting?

“Be nice,” you hear someone say behind you. Jean falls into stride with the two of you.

“Jean! Don’t read my thoughts,” you say, pushing her lightly.

“But you think so loudly,” she complains.

The three of you make your way outside, deciding to steer clear of the mansion until Logan has had his conversation with Charles. “I really don’t want to run into him again. It would not be conducive to a healthy future relationship,” you mutter.

“He is kind of volatile, isn’t he?” Jean asks rhetorically. “I mean, he attacked with no real provocation.”

“Waking up in a room you’ve never been in with two strangers isn’t provoking enough?” Ororo asks, taking a seat at one of the lawn tables. You join her, leaning back in your chair.

Being in nature calms your nerves, but also sets them alight. Your senses come to life again and you hear the running water of the fountain, the wind whistling through the trees, and the small animals stepping in the grass. As Jean and Ororo continue their conversation, you close your eyes and lean your head back and allow yourself to connect. It is only the second day after the full moon, which means your sensitivity to everything around you is still high. You pull at the energy from the ground, letting it throb through your body. You feel the aching in your body disappear, feel your muscles rejuvenated, feel the blood pumping through your veins.

You hear the humming of a man’s voice, scratchy and slightly off-key. It’s a voice you haven’t heard in years. He’s humming something that only graces your ears in dreams. It scratches your scalp and kisses your forehead. Dad.

You steady your breathing, trying to latch onto his voice. You’ve never experienced this in the daytime; it usually only happens when you’re asleep or in a deep meditative state. The words of your friends fade away.

In your mind’s eye, you stand from the table and follow the humming into the woods. You stumble over fallen branches, but your unusual miscoordination doesn’t prick the logical part of your brain. All you can think of is your father. His voice roaming through the trees, taking you deeper into the woods. And suddenly, you are somewhere else.

The church.

His voice is gone.

“No,” you whimper, turning into a young girl again.

You feel the shackles of the past lock around your wrists, forcing you to your knees. A screech escapes your throat at a forcible yank of your hair backwards. You look up to see your mother staring down at you. Her eyes are pitch black. “Your father rejects you. Even in death, he will not visit your wretched soul,” she says with a sneer, pulling your hair farther back. It feels as if she is trying to rip it from your skull.

“He never rejected me,” you spit.

“Are you so sure?”

You open your eyes with a deep inhale. It wasn’t real. You remind yourself.

Jean and Ororo stare at you, waiting for your response to something. You subtly shake your head of the images conjured by your mind and ask, “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

You hope they assume your exhaustion from last night got the better of you and you simply dozed off for a moment. “Logan is ready to meet us,” Jean says, her eyes a reflection of worry. Not toward meeting Logan, to your dismay.

“Oh, great.”

Despite a desire to remain calm, your heart thunders in your chest. You worry your cross between your fingers. You have no idea what to expect from him; you fully believe he will pounce at you again.

Ororo holds your hand as the three of you enter Charles’ study. Scott sits on the armrest of one of the chairs in the room, arms folded over his chest. Charles is behind his desk and sitting ever so casually on the edge of the desk, is Logan.

He wears a gray X-Men sweatshirt and the jeans he had on when he arrived at the mansion. His eyes fall to yours immediately, recognition filling his gaze. You break eye contact dismissively, going to sit on the other armrest of the chair Scott sits on. You keep your eyes strictly on Charles, but you feel Logan’s on you. Your heart doesn’t steady.

“Everyone, this is Logan Howlett. The Wolverine,” Charles says, gesturing to the man sitting on his desk.

Scott huffs a laugh. “Wolverine? Like the animal?”

You nudge him in the side. “As if Cyclops is any better.”

Charles clears his throat. “Please.”

“We are the X-Men, some of which you have already met.” Charles gives you a pointed look. You throw your hands up in defense. “I promise you not all of your introductions will be so…violent.”

Scott snickers.

“Shut the hell up,” you hiss. Your eyes flick to Logan’s. He watches the interaction between you two carefully.

Charles goes around the room, introducing each of your friends to the stranger. When he gets to you, Logan’s stare bears into you heavier than it had before. It intimidates you, but doesn’t scare you. Charles tells him your name, following with, “Others know her as Proserpina, the Roman goddess of spring.”

You don’t expect him to say anything, but his voice fills your ears for the first time since last night. “The goddess of spring is who knocked me out cold last night?”

“It’s not just nature I can manipulate,” you say tersely. “Bub.”

His eyes narrow as his lips turn up in a smirk.

Charles finishes the introductions and tells the team that training will commence in thirty minutes. The second his spiel is over, you stand. Deciding to jump into the fire, you approach Logan. “Sorry about last night,” he says.

It takes you by surprise. You expected more of a fight from him.

“Uh, it’s okay,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “You gave me some much needed practice.”

You sense your friends watching your interaction from afar. Although they are conversing casually, you feel their eyes on you.

“Yeah, you seemed a little rusty, Pro.”

You narrow your eyes. “And you seemed a little overzealous, Wolverine.”

He grunts. “If that’s overzealous, then I worry for your boyfriend.” He points to Scott on the word boyfriend.

“Scott?” You laugh. “Now, that’s a good joke. You’re funny.”

A look of confusion crosses his face and you leave him like that, feeling content with how the conversation ended. Screw a healthy relationship.

━━━━━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━━━━━

i had to get this out of my brain or i was going to go crazy. i hope you enjoyed! im excited to keep writing them :)

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine #xmen #scott summers #jean grey #ororo munroe #cyclops #storm #professor x #dark phoenix #i had to get this out of my brain

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lostwysteria · 3 months ago

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(Part 8. Yo all have killed me and predicted the future)

Masterlist

Come on! We need to get you some better clothes!” Nice said enthusiastically as he dragged Homemaker out of the apartment. “Your ID badges are also waiting for you downstairs. Both your general hero ID and your building pass. Don't worry. Only your hero name and registration is visible on the ID. It's not too important to have it at all times. They are mainly for body identification in case of… unfortunate circumstances.” Nice explained to a now mildly horrified Lin Ling.

Nice swung their linked hands, humming a cheery tune as the elevator descended.

“Don't worry! You won't be in any danger as long as I’m around.” The rank 15 hero told him cheerily, missing the point entirely.

Homemaker was thinking of Nice’s Hero ID almost having to be used as a body ID the other day. Something squirmed in his gut at the thought. The invisible thread connecting them tightened.

A new sense of awareness started blooming within the back of his mind. The last time Lin Ling felt that awareness was back when his parents were alive.

Once that invisible thread anchored enough between him and his ‘wards’ he started gaining a metaphysical awareness of their location and general state. His own mom jokingly called it the ‘mother’s intuition’. Much to his father’s amusement. And Ling’s embarrassment.

He definitely didn't feel parental towards Nice. He did care, though. He’d never actually cared so quickly before. He guessed that was what happens when you save someone from suicide and then take them home with you after they cry for two hours.

They exited the elevator. Nice was beaming and radiating sparkles as he practically skipped over to the reception desk, dragging Homemaker along with him.

A man with black hair in a bowl cut and round rim glasses in a black office worker suit fumbled the soda he’d just gotten from the vending machines in the corner. The man was almost gaping at Nice.

“Mei-jie! We’re here to get Homemaker's ID’s” Nice practically sang. The poor older woman stared for a few moments before holding out the cards and a lanyard.

Lin Ling gave an awkward smile and ran his fingers through his hair.

He had taken off his headkerchief and apron. Nice was wearing ‘casual clothes’ that made him look like a runway model. How anyone thought the man was straight, Ling would never know. That scarf alone…

Nice drug him from the building and babbling about fashion.

…

Bai Yuzhou adjusted his glasses.

He hadn't expected Nice to still be alive. He’d predicted his suicide. He’d seen the signs clearly.

But here he was. Alive. And with an intriguing new friend.

“Mei-jie? Who was that with mister Nice?” He asked.

…

“So. Who was that guy at the vending machines?” Ling asked as they walked through the high end mall. The compromise they had reached. Nice wanted to get him all tailored clothing. Ling had put his foot down. Thus the fancy mall.

“Oh? That was Bai Yuzhou. He hangs around the building. I have no clue what he does there, though. He’s harmless.” Nice waved it off dismissively.

“Alright.” Ling let it go, though something was nagging at him about that man.

…

Looky @lookylou

Guys! I just saw relationship goals. Platonic or otherwise. Nice and Homemaker debating hydroponic kitchen herb gardens. I need someone I know to do that with. Also. Nice has the soapy Cilantro gene. Homemaker thinks cilantro is tasty.

*A pic of Homemaker waving his hands and Nice holding up a kitchen herb garden kit with a puzzled look.*

Jade @mysterymystery

*A video of Nice and Homemaker in a clothing store. Homemaker exits the changing room in a long sweater and leggings.

“Give me a twirl?” Nice asks and Homemaker rolls his eyes before giving said twirl before entering the changingroom once more*

…

“We’ll have fresh herbs?!” Moon asked in excitement as she dig into the herb kit. She was already putting it together.

“Yup “ Ling said from where he was pinned on the couch. A sleeping Nice was laying on to of him. His head tucked under Ling’s chin. He idly started petting the silky white hair. It was quiet before a low rumble started. Both he and Moon froze.

“Is… is he… purring?” Moon asked in a strangled voice.

“Yes… yes he is…” Ling said in shocked awe.

Moon thought back to something as this scene reminded her of it. The two week period she wrote a 300,000 word Wrice fic with catboy Nice and big bad wolf Wreck in revenge for some slight. It was one of her most popular fics. It had gotten awards.

“Oh my god…” she whisper screamed. The power at her fingers… “I am a god.” she whispered to herself while looking at her hands.

#tbhx #to be hero x #homemaker lin ling #hero lin ling #lin ling #nice tbhx #moon tbhx #x tbhx

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itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland · 1 year ago

Text

Finding Peace Pt.1: Paid in Lies (Spike x Y/N)

Requested: No. Part 1 of the Multific.

Synopsis: This is lore for the character in the other fics. It helps to build up the relationship and the direction. Feel free to get acquainted with it. <3

Word count: 2.5k

TW: None.

Masterlist | Next

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Another droll day with the Scoobies. The Magic Box was their hangout after all. Spike wishes he was anywhere but this place. However, he found himself at the metaphysical store more times than not. After getting the chip implanted and losing his ability to kill, he finds himself being amused by their banter and attempts at saving the world.

Today was different. The normal Scooby chatter was taken up by a voice he didn't recognize. A story he had never heard was being told followed by laughter. He was weary of new people.

"So then I told him that he couldn't tell a newt's eye from a bat's and that's what makes him a horrible wizard." Y/n exclaimed and laughter erupted.

"I can't believe you got into a fight with a kid over the last piece of candy." Willow stated.

"I take Halloween very seriously." You quipped.

"Aren't you like a hundred?" Xander chimed in.

"Rude. I'm 25. I can still trick or treat. They say it’s the only day the big bad doesn’t come out" you got up from your chair and walked to the register when you noticed Spike.

Everyone became nervous about your statement.

"What big bad?" Buffy asked.

"I don't know. It’s just something people say." Spike approached you. "Welcome to the Magic Box how can I h-"

"Don't bother with him, he doesn't buy anything." Giles interrupted, having come from the back room after he heard your comment.

"Oh. In that case, hi I’m y/n." Your voice was inviting, suspiciously so. Spike didn't trust it but didn't back away.

"I’m the big bad" he responded.

"Interesting. Then it means that you don't come out on Halloween."

Willow snickered.

Spike seemed incredulous. You just met him and you're already making fun of him.

"He's Spike, he just exists." Buffy chimed in.

"Rough." You stated.

An awkward silence followed. No one would say it, but they wanted you gone. It was time for the Scoobie’s nightly meeting, and you weren't invited since you were a regular civilian.

Giles finally got the hint. "Y/n it’s gonna be a slow night. Why don't you head home."

You hesitated but nodded. You packed up your things. "Night guys! It was nice meeting you Mr. Spike Big Bad."

As soon as you leave the chatter picks up. Conversations about the latest big bad and how to take them down takes up the space. But not for Spike. His interest is peaked by y/n. He's used to being mocked but never by someone he just met, much less a human. If you knew who he was would you still try that stunt? He was strung out from a previous altercation and was actively looking for trouble. So, he starts asking questions about you.

"She just came in one day and asked for a job. She doesn't talk much about herself but knows a lot about the occult." Willow offered.

"I bet she's a demon" Xander chimes in.

"How about we slow it down on the demon accusations. She might just be a big nerd like Giles." Buffy mentions.

Giles frowns at Buffy's retorts.

Spike mulls it over. He's decided to get more information out of you. He may be off base, but he feels that you're hiding something. No one comes to Sunnydale just because.

The conversation continues in the background as Spike devices a plan to follow you, maybe find out more about you. He exits The magic Box without a word. He’s hot on your trail watching your every movement until you stop. He doubles back into an alley. He hears you snicker. He’s so irritated by your calm demeanor that he breaks his silent stalking.

“You know, pretty girls shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” He walks up behind you.

“You think I’m pretty?” You turn around, a grin on your face.

He’s definitely annoyed now. “I could kill you if I wanted to.”

“Same.” She retorted and started walking off.

He stands there, flabbergasted. Who do you think you are? Don’t you know who you’re dealing with?

He walks up to you again, walking beside you. Eyeing you as you walk silently.

After awhile you speak up, “It’s weird for you to follow me.”

He’s quiet again. You knew he was following you. Most humans are oblivious. “You’re not afraid to be on your own, huh?”

“Nope. I’ve done it my whole life. Being an orphan does give you that hyper independence vibe.”

He stands in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. He thinks over whether he will show you his vamp face. Maybe scare you a bit. He decides against it. “Just be careful, love.” He walks away.

“If it’s so dangerous, why don’t you walk me home, big bad?” You shout out to him.

He stops, smirks and turns around. He smugly walks up to you and you both resume a quiet but steady pace to your house. Upon arrival you turn to him, “I can’t invite you in. I just met you and I can’t risk all that noise. Thank you for walking me home, though.”

He nods nonchalantly. “Goodnight, then.” He walks away feeling a bit awkward. Like, what just happened? He offered to walk a stranger home and you refused to invite him in? Did you know he was a vampire? Were you just being polite? So many questions.

The next day a similar occurrence happened. He saw you at The Magic Box, heard you talking about the occult soliciting laughter with your odd anecdote, and off you were to your home. He debated whether or not to follow you again. As if his feet had a mind of their own, he trailed behind you once more. He caught up to you and started small talk.

Where did you come from. “North Carolina”

Where were you going. “To find freedom.”

How long were you planning on staying. “’Till the money runs out.”

Who were you in love with. You paused at his bold question. He shrugged, “well, answer the question.” He pressed.

You took a pause. You told him of two previous lovers, both in which love was unrequited. You explained that you lived for the moment and not for men.

Before he could start up with questions you interrupted with your own. You asked the same questions. He hesitated to answer your questions honestly.

“Same questions. Go.”

He sighed. “England. Err.. to…” He paused. He realized he didn’t have the answer to where was he going and how long he was planning on staying at Sunnydale. How to explain that he is a vampire with no real vamp-like behavior? How to admit that he was obsessed with Buffy? So, he opted to skip to the last question. “It doesn’t matter. As for love, I had a nice lady. Crazy bird, she was. I loved her until she left me. Now I just go with whatever fancies me.” He flashes you a grin. You laugh.

“You’re harping on me, but you have no real plan or ambitions.”

That hurt his feelings. He had ambitions, in the past he wanted to kill the slayer. Now he wants to date her. Maybe his priorities got skewed.

As he further mulls over what you said, you both arrive at her home.

“Thank you for walking me home, again. It’s nice to have company.

And so, this became a daily occurrence. Spike would walk you home and ask you about your life, your day, and your connection to the Scoobies. It seemed harmless and he enjoyed how normal you made him feel. With you there was no talk of demons or the end of the world, just a normal human doing human things.

A month has passed, and Spike is still walking you home every day you work at The Magic Box. Today Spike felt bolder in his questions while walking you back home.

“What are we?” Spike side eyed you.

“That’s a bit forward. If you need to know, I thought we were friends. I mean, aren’t you and Buffy a thing?”

He was taken aback by your observation. Of course, he had a thing for Buffy, but it wasn’t reciprocated.

“Let’s change the subject…” Spike trailed off. “Friends, huh? Don’t got many o’ those.”

You smiled. “Then consider yourself lucky to have me.”

He looked away, a smile on his face.

You arrive at your house. “So, when are you inviting me in?” Spike spoke up.

You paused. How to tell him you know… “I’m not ready. Give me time.” You made heavy eye contact. He stepped closer to you, sharing your space. You stood there for what seemed an eternity.

“I’m not gon’ hurt you.” He whispered.

You nodded, “I know.” You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. You turned around and entered your house.

He stood there, surprised, and giddy. He smiled, a genuine smile as he walked back to his crypt with a pep in his step.

2 months have passed, and you too have spent a lot of time being close. Boundaries are still in place. Like he’s not allowed in your house, but you too linger at your doorway, in each other’s space. He is still after Buffy, but he brushes his hand against yours, whispers into your ear, and plays with your hair, among other affectionate touches.

3 months have passed, and you and Spike have gotten to know each other well. The Scoobies were weary of your inside jokes and playful glances.

“You know, the sun is setting quicker.” Spike mentioned as a hint that it was time for you two to head out.

You sighed. “Let me finish up this order.” You looked up at him feigning annoyance.

“Don’t want the big bad to get you.” Spike gave you a playful look.

You smiled. “Well, what am I keeping you around for?”

Xander groaned. “Kiss already.” He yelled in frustration which made you and Spike laugh.

As you were getting your bag a demon came crashing in through the entrance of The Magic Box. It snarled and tore down shelves and tables that were in his way. “Give me the slayer” He exclaimed.

“I’m right here, tall and ugly.” Buffy jumped in.

“Not slayer.” He swatted her away. “Real slayer.” He pointed at you. Everyone looked at you confused. You debated on whether to feign innocence or help out. Before you had made up your mind the demon started charging at you. At that point you back flipped into his line of fire and kicked him in the jaw. Everyone stood incredulous.

You proceeded to beat the demon punch after punch. Not holding back, you pulled a sword from a sheath you had strapped on your back under your shirt. Without hesitation you went for the demon’s throat, blood splattering everywhere. You stood covered in blood but triumphant.

Silence followed. You turned around, “Ta-da?”

Buffy stood from her spot and marched up to you. “Who are you, really?”

“Yeah, explain yourself.” Spike yelled from the back.

You sighed, defeated. “Everyone sit down. I’ll explain. Please, just listen and then ask questions. It’s a long story.”

You proceeded to explain that you were close to 1,000 years old, 985 to be exact, and that you were then deemed the slayer in your village. You were raised by your grandfather who was also your watcher. On the night of your 25th birthday, you killed a vampire that was the lover of a very powerful witch in your village. The witch, heartbroken and vengeful, put a curse on you that you would not die until you found peace. That doomed you to roam the Earth in the search of true peace.

The gang was quiet. The atmosphere was heavy. You were ashamed and embarrassed.

“Why did you lie?” Spike spoke up first. His voice was heavy with anger.

“I had to. It’s so difficult to be open about why I still exist. It’s shameful.” You lowered your head.

He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer and left. Your eyes trailed after him. You knew you hurt him. You purposefully created a whole life, and he believed it. You both shared moments, connection, vulnerability and yours was all a rouse.

“I’m confused. How can you not die?” Willow asked.

Her question snapped you back to reality. “Um, uh, Well… If I get mortally wounded, it heals faster. Even if it’s a fatal blow, my body regenerates.”

“What happens if you get decapitated, maimed, or burned alive?” Xander asks, curious.

Everyone looks at him. “What?! You were all thinking it.” Everyone nodded.

You chuckled. “Two words. Deadpool powers.”

Everyone nods. “That makes sense and ew.” Xander responded.

You stand there, still covered in blood answering question after question. Have you searched how to break the curse? Do you know what will give you peace? How many slayers have you met? Do you enjoy being eternal? You answered every question until they were satisfied. The conversation shifted to how 3 slayers could exist.

“It makes sense now how you knew so much about the occult.” Giles chimed in.

You grinned. “I dabble.” You say trying to be funny. A joke that landed flat due to the circumstances.

“I know this is weird. Me existing is weird but know that I didn’t mean harm. I’m just trying to figure out how to end this curse. I can’t be running around divulging my existence to every slayer. Having two slayers makes it easier to say that there is a third but still. You must understand where I’m coming from.”

The gang was quiet, pensive. “I think it’s best that you go. We can talk more about this tomorrow.” Giles stated.

“I know this is stupid, but do I still have a job?”

Giles glares at you. You raise your hands in a defensive stance. You decide it’s best to leave.

You walk home, alone. It’s the first time in the last three months that you were walking home alone. You felt tired and sad. Not only did you potentially lose your connection with the Scoobies, but you also lost who you considered to be your closest friend, Spike.

Loud thrashing and banging can be heard inside the crypt. Spike is enraged and full of energy. Of course, the one person he wanted to lean on was a fake. Another illusion in his path. He felt like he could confide in her, trust her. She was no more than a liar, a con artist. To hell with her sob story. She hurt him. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been honest himself, he did the best he could while obscuring the truth to protect her. To protect her! She would pay for making a fool of him. Everyone mocks him for his lack of vampire like behaviors. Everyone puts him down for failing at killing Buffy. But to made out to be a rube for trusting, for caring, that’s where he draws the line. He was vulnerable and he got paid in lies.

#spike btvs #buffyverse #spike yn #spike the bloody #william the bloody #btvs #spike x reader #fanfiction #buffy the vampire slayer #william pratt

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sonnet009games · 1 month ago

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okay weird lore question (nothing chapter 7 related) how does literacy work in pandemonium? do they have to learn to read and speak like humans do, or can they instinctively understand human language?

Demons can instinctively understand the language/s of any country they exit Pandemonium to. It's not the same as being an omniglot--Flea can't just pull out some perfect French to impress the detective. It's something more metaphysical and magic tied to the very essence of existing as a demon.

#asks

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bestworstcase · 4 months ago

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I totally forget if you've commented on this before, so my apologies if you have and I missed it, but how do you feel about theories regarding Mercury's semblance and/or eyes? what I mean by this is some people think that Mercury actually does have silver eyes or that he does still have a semblance somehow (or could form a new one) and I'm wondering what your stance is. and how the answers to these questions fit into your reading of the narrative as a whole. obviously there's something to be said for Marcus Black being abusive and seemingly killing/stealing a part of his son's soul as a part of that, etc.

ough

i have posted abt this before but it was. a while ago and i can't find the post anymore lmao so take two!!

some facts:

elemental mercury is commonly called quicksilver, and its symbol Hg derives from its older name hydrargyrum, from the greek, meaning "silver water."

mercury is the roman god of trade and eloquence, travel and theft; the divine messenger; and a psychopomp who guides souls of the newly dead to the underworld.

some more facts:

silver-eyed warriors are symbolically linked to 1. the grim(m) reaper and 2. butterflies, which are commonly and cross-culturally regarded as symbols of death/reincarnation.

"In Rome one can see a marble bas-relief representing a young man stretched out on a bed, and a butterfly which, in flight, seems to be exiting the mouth of this dead man, because the ancients, as well as the common people of our day, believed that the spirit leaves through the mouth."

(quirks eyebrow.)

silver eyes have some metaphysical connection to death that goes beyond symbolism: ruby's eyes awaken when she witnesses death and she hears pyrrha's final words in her dreams for months afterward; the light arises from love and grief; salem herself seems to have begun experimenting with silver eyes and resurrection and grimm after cinder's injury.

the glare itself at least resembles the pure white light of the threshold between life and death (personally, i think it is that light)

the silver-eyed warrior of legend is not a person; she is a hero destined to live and die alone fighting grimm because that is what she is meant for. she exists for no other purpose. (she is the mirror-image of a grimm.)

"All my life, my father trained me to be a killer, an assassin like him. And then moments after I killed him, you two showed up looking for someone with my exact skills. Just felt like it was meant to be. […] You may not like it here without Cinder, but I think I'm right where I'm supposed to be!"

(quirks eyebrow.)

ok. so, we've got

☑️ a boy with silvery-grey eyes

☑️ alluding to a mythical psychopomp

☑️ named "quicksilver"/"silver water"

☑️ or "keeper of boundaries"

☑️ raised to be a killer/warrior

☑️ violently denied his personhood

☑️ nihilistically feels destined for this life

lol. lmao, even!

some more facts:

when salem wounded ruby's self-image by insinuating that summer rose (really, ruby's imagined ideal self, ruby-rose-without-flaws) confronted salem and failed, ruby's glare struck inward—her conception of herself, her aspirational self, fractured and her light attacked her.

"He never went easy on me! Every day of training was a beating. And when I unlocked my semblance, he stole it with his! 'This is a crutch! This makes you weak!' He told me I could have it back when I was strong… so I got strong, but I never got it back! I've had to work harder than anyone to get where I am!"

semblances are an outward manifestation of the soul, an expression of one's true character, intertwined and inextricable from a person's identity and self-image.

mercury is extremely toxic. famously.

quirks. eyebrow.

ok. ok

think about what happened with ruby's eyes solely from hearing salem say "your mother said those words to me; she was wrong, too"—because her conception of herself is so bound up in the idea of summer rose, ideal huntress, the best of us, supermom, perfected reflection of ruby rose, all she wishes she was—confronting the real summer rose, who tried and failed and never came back, fractures ruby's self-identity and precipitates her tailspin in v8-9 and that begins with her light rebounding on her.

(this is because silver eyes require true self-knowledge and clarity of purpose which is why ruby struggles with them, in this essay i will—)

so think about that. and consider the implications for a silver-eyed boy abused and molded from birth into something antithetical to the nature of this magic—a remorseless killer—whose true self was literally stolen from him by his father. and he never got it back.

(*i think mercury is probably not a reliable narrator in regard to what his father did to him—he was a kid and he's still taking what his horrifically abusive father said to him as objective fact—and i expect he'll find his semblance again in vacuo. but this is what mercury believes is true.)

like. we know silver-eyes can be harmed by their own light: ruby's first glare put her in a coma for several days after beacon fell, and the light turned inward and hurt her when her self-image cracked. right?

gestures: mercury. quicksilver. poison.

(but also: mercury can be used to draw elemental silver from ore.) (patio process)

my theory is that

mercury does have silver eyes

marcus black's semblance was in a similar vein as tyrian's – painful disruption or forcible suppression of another person's semblance, maybe allowing him to mimic/copy that power

his semblance + his abuse and the things he said of mercury's semblance (it makes you weak, it's a crutch) shattered mercury's sense of identity and completely broke him to the idea that his sole purpose is to obey and kill.

mercury's light reacted to this shattering by driving inward, like what happened to ruby but far more severe, and that is what caused his semblance to be (apparently) lost forever: his self-image broke in such a fundamental, traumatic way that his own light kept him alive by blinding him to his true self.

but the poison is the cure: if he finds his light again to protect someone he loves (emerald), he unblinds himself / rediscovers the true self he buried and his semblance is resurrected with it. figuratively speaking.

it's death-and-rebirth and psychopomps all the way down

#...this would also make him the ozma in the emerald+mercury ozlem fractal branch. now that i think abt it #WAIT. LMAO #''my dad stole my semblance'' -> emerald the thief steals it back

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