#They believe these systems will allow them to navigate life without dying

[subconsciousmysteries]

The so called "unique duality of type 6 that no other type has" really isn't that special once you actually LTR. Whether a 6 is a Rebel or a Conformist they are fixated on the same thing: Faith. Finding or creating a framework that explains reality, to give them Faith that they are ready to experience reality. Not realizing that the experience is inauthentic when it is done through the lens of a mental framework, and they don't actually need a framework for everything to be alright, they already have the power to experience reality without dying.

Typing someone as a 6 because they are a rebel or a conformist is WRONG! Other types have this same duality between rebel and conformist too. It's called being a human being and facing the dilemma between doing what is right and doing what is easy. It's the dichotomy between growth and stagnancy. Every type has its own version of it. To name one example 7 has a dichotomy between being a dumb consoomer (conformist) and being a disciplined visionary (rebel). I could go on forever.

There must be the primary fixation on Faith and building intellectual belief systems to explain reality, and an intense sense of fear and lostness without this belief system solidly intact. Or else it is not a 6.

Also there's no geometric reason for any type on the enneagram other than 9 to be a unique snowflake so please just stop trying to make snowflake 6 happen. It is never going to happen.

[kaypeace21]

Some of your favorite characters are Will’s split personalities (psych/narrative analysis)

This is part 2 of my DID analysis. Part 1 focusing on how the supernatural events of the series correlate to Will’s past with Lonnie. Before, I explain who I believe are alters of Will’s (previously called ‘split personalities’). I think I need to explain a crash course on what Dissociative Identity disorder (DID: previously ‘multiple personality disorder’) entails. And the supernatural manifestation within the show as well- Before explaining which characters I believe are alters of Will’s and why. So let’s begin.

There are 4 hallmarks of a potential dissociative disorder

“Dissociation is when instead of staying present in the face of stress you exit your thoughts, feelings, and bodily sensations and zone out. . It’s as if your body is a computer that reaches overload for input then just shuts down.’ It’s considered a defense mechanism in psychoanalytic theory.”

‘An individual struggling with dissociation or a dissociative disorder may only experience one of the following or may experience multiple. Each individual’s experience with dissociation can be varied. Symptoms can last just a matter of moments or return at times over the years.” 

1)“Identity confusion and alteration -When an individual forgets who they are or takes on a new personality unlike themselves.” (Aka his possession).

2)Dissociative Amnesia-”The forgetting of a major event, such as a childhood trauma or forgetting (traumatic) things happening in real-time.Many survivors of are able to “forget” until sometime later …when memories are triggered by certain events or when the body and mind are no longer able to conceal the memories.” (Aka Will’s ‘now memories’. The reason he refers to them as “now-memories” is because they are things he’s already experienced (as memories) but he’s only now remembering - because of his “dissociative-amnesia’

3)”Derealization-Feeling like the world is not real or is foggy.” (the upsidedown)

4) “Depersonalization-The sense of not being in control of, or not being connected to, one’s body.”

vocab and definitions (about DID) to keep in mind 

CORE/HOST- “The core is considered by some to be the person first born to the body. The host is the alter who most commonly uses the body (which may or may not be the core).”

ALTERS - “are dissociated self states that can be highly differentiated from each other. They can have unique names, appearances, ages, gender identities, sexualities, memories (pasts), skills, faiths, political views, abilities, and ways of viewing and interacting with the world. Alters can even perceive themselves as different species, inanimate objects, or as members of a different race, gender, age, or ethnicity/race.No one can choose to have alters or what their alters are like. Alters' creation is entirely unconscious. Most alters have their own sense of identity.  A host  cannot actually control the alter.An individual with DID has one brain and one body. Dissociative barriers between alters are not literal boundaries, and knowledge, memories, skills, preferences, and traits may bleed through.Alters usually have a role or multiple roles in a smaller system- these roles may or may not appear contradictory.”

SYSTEM-”A system is a collection of alters within one body.Subsystems are two or more groups of alters that might have developed separately, and they may or may not be aware of the other group.”

INNER WORLDS-”it could be a house, to a city, or multiple locations-where alters go when not in control of the body. The innerworld is where alters can interact with one another and where there physical appearance is how they describe .Communication between alters may happen face-to-face (in each other's respective bodies, via the internal world). Expansive internal worlds can result when highly imaginative or dissociative systems use their inner world to retreat from the outside world and so play out entire stories within their mind. Alters may be perceived as having internal lives when not active in the outside world, and these inner lives may involve travel to other internal locations. Many internal happenings may be metaphorical or highly symbolic of the core’s past. Inners worlds may also have characters  called "NPCs" (taken from the roleplaying term "non-player characters") that can interact with alters but they are more similar to imaginary constructs rather than actual alters (they can’t control the body and some are made consciously unlike alters-although that’s not always the case). These npcs can be background characters to make the world more real, and it’s not uncommon for parents, family members, or friends of alters to be NPCs.They can feel just as real as natural-born people . Different subsystems may reside in different locations in an internal world or may have non-overlapping internal worlds.”

INTEGRATION- This is essentially the closest thing an alter can do to die- but frankly I consider that comparison harsh. It’s “ when an alter permanently combines with the host or another alter.Fusion occurs when identities merge together and become a unified whole (retaining the memories and some traits of both merging identities.)  Integration into a single, individualized identity IS the goal for some in therapy.  But it is not, and does not have to be, for everyone.  It is possible to achieve full healing by processing memories, establishing communication across the whole mind, lowering dissociative barriers, and showing aptitude in everyone working toward a common goal - all without actually integrating.  Others may choose to integrate SOME parts, or "downsize", but still leave a small system to go about their life.”

“They may retain any number of independently acting alters. Reasons for choosing not to fully integrate can include: feeling that full integration is unnecessary; not understanding what integration actually entails and being afraid of "losing" their alters; uncertainty over how to navigate the world as one integrated person; being used to having alters around for company, entertainment, or support; alters having their own unique relationships that they're hesitant to lose; alters wanting to remain separate for their own sakes.”

SWITCHING-”Switching refers to one alter taking control of the body at the expense of another alter who was previously in control of body or ‘fronting’. Switches can be consensual, forced, or triggered.Switches can be slow, quick, or uncontrollably rapid. Switching can take seconds, minutes, or even days to occur.Stress (Will’s anniversary effect) or even a reminder of a trauma, can trigger a switch of alters.  * I’ll talk more about this later

ALTERS DYING-“Even if mock deaths or temporary experiences of alters “dying” from old age (or other means) have been acted out in some systems, they aren’t actually dying. You cannot kill off a collective part of the conscious mind like you can a person. Their thoughts, memories, emotions will all still be there, so they must be as well. The part may have gone into extreme hiding/dormant, been momentarily immobilized, or merged with another part of the mind (integration), but they most assuredly did not and can not disappear entirely or “be killed”.

Next we’re on to the supernatural concept they chose to use for this disorder.

We see in the first episode.  Will mentions x-men 134 which is about the dark phoenix . The show is litered with x men references like Dustin giving cerebro ( a machine belonging to professor x) to Will. Dustin also asks if El was born with powers “like the x-men.” And Mike also says  El channels Will and Dustin once again says “like professor x.” Now- does anyone know who professor x’s son (David) and the ‘shadow phoenix”are ? Well his son is considered the most powerful mutant in the world and has Dissociative identity disorder (DID).At one point some of his alters literally escape his head and enter the real world as tangible people. The ‘shadow phoenix’ is also a sibling to the ‘dark phoenix’.And this ‘shadow phoenix’ (a ‘shadow monster’ if you will)   terrorized David’s alters and forced them to integrate back into 1 personality . 

In ‘scanners’ one psychic mentions how he “opened the door” to the people trapped in his own mind in order for Daryl to be Daryl again.  While in ‘altered states’ the man (who saw flashes of another dimension) met his ‘unborn self in the crack in the void.’Similar to how Mr clarke and Alexi describes the portals of other dimensions being opened as a ‘door’. However, these doors were created before El- we see El created the one at the lab, but that doesn’t take into account the ones in the tree or the cave. There’s more portals we’re unaware of that allowed alters and npcs to escape and become part of the real world even before El opened the gate in s1. And unbeknownst to some of the characters and the audience we’ve already seen other ‘inner worlds’ of Will’s -besides the upsidedown . Which people (not part of the system) have interacted with . As Dustin in s1 said about the other dimensions / vale of shadows , it’s “ A dark reflection or echo of our world ...It’s right next to you and you don’t even know it” . 

We see both mr clarke stab a pencil into a plate and Alexi a straw into a box to illustrate this. What’s interesting is the one other time we see this motion is when Lonnie says “someone should be held accountable��� (referring to what happened to Will), as he hammers into the wall and it transitions to Mike mimicking mr clarke. Implying that Lonnie is responsible and will be held accountable in the future.

-There’s also the fact the ‘dark phoenix’ mentioned in the first episode of St is highly associated with fire- having pyrokinesis (like Will the wise) and  who “had able to warp reality on a universal scale” .  It’s like how the show talks about physics often, like in s3/1 (plank’s constant or Hugh Everett’s many worlds interpretations) - and Einstein who believed quantum mechanics wasn’t real said “God does not play dice with the universe."  So since he was wrong , cause quantum mechanics is real , the quote should be “god plays dice with the universe.” Like Will does in the beginning of the first episode.Will is captured by the demogorgan (in the game) so he was captured in real life because he rolled a 7. I talked more about this more in the mf section.

- It’s similar to one of the Duffers admitted biggest inspirations for the series ‘altered states’. Who’s mental illness alters reality . He hallucinates  seeing flashes of another dimension like Will.

We’ll talk about more evidence of this concept  in the character breakdowns (mostly in the mf section). So now on to the alters (and Npcs) who escaped Will’s mind into the real world as tangible people. 

Tr*gger warning now, because of how DID is caused. “The dissociative aspect is thought to be a coping mechanism - the person literally shut off or dissociated themselves from a situation or experience too traumatic, or painful to assimilate with their conscious self.As many as 99% of individuals who develop dissociative disorders have recognized personal histories of recurring, overpowering, and often life-threatening disturbances or traumas at a sensitive developmental stage of childhood (usually before age 6). It cannot form AFTER the ages of 6-9 years of age, aka 10 and up (though, once you have DID you can develop new alters at any time).DID is rarely diagnosed in children (and is usually diagnosed in adulthood or late teens), despite the average age of appearance of the first alter being 5.9 years old . ”

They’ll be brief mentions of dark subjects in this psych/narrative analysis because of this. I’ll also be listing movies said to inspire s4 of st  (according to st writers), or mentioning movies name dropped by  the cast, the Duffers ,  or in the show itself . 

ALTERS

Max Mayfield & Billy Hargrove 

When Max is first introduced - Mr Clark talks about “brain cells working together as one” (while talking next to a brain).  Similarly, dustin/mike mention mr clarke when saying what’s essentialy a did system “A collective consciousness. this is the thing that controls everything. this is the brain.” This concept about Max , is mentioned again when mr. clark discuses phineus Gage saying he had “a total change in personality that even his friends called him no longer gage.” And emphasizes max and Will in this scene- showing one in clear focus, while another is blurry, and as they make eye contact Max turns away . 

Both are poor, their bio dads aren’t around, both like horror films, comics and videogames. Both their bio dads left them . And both use bats in anger when emulating their abusers ,and both are heavily associated with rainbows. On Halloween she dresses up as a character who as a child dressed up as a clown on Halloween (Will’s fear/ what triggered him on Halloween) and whose surname is Myers (Byers?)

 Billy, like Will , have nicknames for their real name-  ‘william’. Both have abusive dads who called them  homophobic slurs, and forced them to play baseball to man-up.  Billy’s old baseball team is even tigers (the mascot of Will’s elementary school and matching Will’s tiger painting in his room in s1-2).The “it was a 7 “ vs “the wave was 7 feet”. Both hit with needles, into rock music , attracted to Wheelers ,and were the main subjects possessed by the mf. At one point the dark phoenix fails to merge with jean so goes to merge with her clone body as the next best thing. In this case the mf went to Will’s second alter William/Billy. And as Will states “another me.”  And both say about the mf “I’m sorry, he made me do it.” 

Neil and Lonnie both push Jon and Billy against a wall. And Jon tells of a time where his dad made him kill a rabbit . And Billy’s last name “Hargrove” means - “grove filled with rabbits" . While, ‘Mad-max’ her nickname is based on the male 80s film character ‘mad max’ a man being terrorized by a r**ist biker gang who attacks both men/women. It’s also possible that Billy’s appearance was based on Will seeing mrs wheeler’s romance novels? 

In the film “don’t breathe’- the reason why the siblings are from California is alluded to in a flashback of  Jon & Will.  The older sibling (with abusive parents) takes care of the younger sibling like a parent and the little sibling says she wants to be a surfer despite living in a land locked state (without an ocean, like Indianna). Older sibling says one day maybe they can live in California together  . And the Older sibling tells a friend about how their dad left them, and how they were thrown in a dark trunk by an abusive parent as kid . Which was alluded to in s1, when Jon checked the trunk to see if Lonnie put Will in there.And we see the mf (who is emulating Lonnie) doing the same thing to heather, and tom (hitting or strangling them and then throwing them in the trunk).

Certain scenes, are alters re-enacting  past scenes of trauma. “The family dynamics will be played out in a variety of ways but will most obviously be noted in the way the survivor splits off their system.Some survivors will internalize their family into their own DID system. Some alters may reenact trauma and ab*se, sometimes reinforcing ab*sers’ lessons to prevent further ab*se but sometimes serving as a permanent component of an internal flashback.“The reason, Billy acts/is racist is because he’s emulating Neil (but more accurately Lonnie) who told Will not be friends with lucas and thus recreates that moment with Max .lonnie in the s4 films is very racist. Another example, is Will has shown a fear of doors opening (in s1-2) shown by how the demogorgan unlocks the door telepathically (like El does often).And the mf opening doors by themselves in the house and arcade. Neil demands Billy opens his door. And right after Max stares at Will-Billy yells to open the door and tells Max “I’ll cut you b*tch” if she doesn’t open the door. This is because Lonnie said and did similar things to Will if he didn’t open the door.

What connects all 3 is that they all have an absent parent and have baseball associated with them mimicking a familial ab*ser. Even the mf is associated with the sport.

Alexi

Some “ alters can even speak a different language than the host. Despite, the host personality not knowing a single word of the language.’

Similar to Will who won the science fair for 4 years in a row- Alexi is a scientist who has a child like disposition . Will has a fear of clowns (a clown even triggered him on Halloween), and we see that after he’s attacked by a lonnie-look alike he dies surrounded by clowns. 

He also sees a friend strangled by the lonnie-look alike  (using 1 hand) and die. throughout the season the mf who emulates lonnie strangle people the exact same way, with one hand (doing this to joyce, el, heather, and jon). probably cause Will either saw Lonnie strangle someone or was strangled in this way. There’s also the fact when we first see Alexi - lights flicker like in s1 (illustrating a supernatural element associated with Will and others).

And stangertheory pointed this one detail out, when watching woody the woodpecker he says “can we watch loonie toons, now?” murray: ‘no’/ “can we play d&d , now? crew:no. 

Also, “woody in the cartoon is terrorized by Andy and PAPA panda. To Woody's surprise, Andy's attempts prevail, and Woody is taken away to the psychiatric hospital— but not before his captors prove to be crazier than he is” (cough s4 spoiler, but that’s a post for another day).We also have a scene where murray compares him to a child bringing shit in and tries touching his junk with a metal detector. And when Alexi says to stop, Murray says he’ll do as he pleases in his house. Probably a re-enactment .  And Murray mistranslates what he says occasionally as being “n*ked or exposed”, “penetrating a hole”. Also ‘alexi’ may also be a reference to Alexy in russian folklore. A clever-minded priest's son (Lonnie is alluded to be a religious zealot in s4 movies) who wins by tricking and outsmarting his foes and defeating a dragon by trickery. This is another connection to Will who is heavily associated with dragons- for a huge spoiler related reason - let’s just say  mf’s can create dragons, Will drew a dragon, has a dragon poster, read a dragon comic in a s1 flashback , was there for the dragon video game, and Dustin mentions a dragon in s3 because of foreshadowing.

**The mindflayer (previously known as ‘Will the wise’) -persecutor alter 

 “A child that is heavily into fantasy might have alters who present as certain fantasy creatures that the child sees as being capable of protecting them from being hurt again.All of the personalities begin as friends and allies…” We see this with Will’s first alter- Will the wise. Who Will described as having fire powers to attack smart bad guys. And who is based off the rules of d&d.

“ Persecutors are alters who purposefully harm the body, system, host, core, or other alters. Most of the literature on the development of these persecutory alters reports that they usually begin life as protectors and then, for some reason, turn on the host, becoming persecutory. Kluft, in 1985, describes the persecutors as initially "taking all the suffering for the others (alters & host). Persecutory personalities originate from the shame and anger related to the traumatic experience and to the perpetrator. “ 

‘It is usually during the transition between childhood to adolescence when childhood protectors becomes a persecutor.” And begin mimicking the ab*ser. We actually may have seen this transition at the end of s1- where WW became the mf. In d&d lore, mindflayers are created by inserting a tadpole into a human- like what we saw at the end of s1 where Will coughed up the slug from the upsidedown. Meaning all that supernatural stuff we saw Will do in s1 was actually Will the wise (ww) before he turned into the mf. While the flashbacks in s1 (and singing in castle byers) were of the Will we saw in s2-3.

Will says WW is a wizard ( writing on a music tape in s3 “will the wise-wizard mix’ and having his password for castle byers be ‘rhadaghast’- a lotr wizard.)The way they describe d&d Wizards matches Will/mf perfectly “Wizards are adepts and magicians . wizards are able to create spells of explosive fire, sparking lightning, subtle deception, and gross mind control. Their magic summons monsters from other planes of existence, predicts the future, and turns defeated enemies into zombies. Their most powerful spells can transform one substance into another, summon meteors from the sky, and open portals to other worlds”.

Nancy even accidentally calls the mf the “mind -flamer” (aka fire powers of ww ). Dustin says the mf “takes over minds using their highly developed psionic powers” (like wizards).We see Will the wise described as having fire/lightning powers and in the first ep we see him leave Mike’s house causing the lights to flicker, turn on his bike light with his mind (before being attacked by the demogorgan), blink once for yes and twice for no to communicate with Joyce, cause lightning to spark out of the phones twice, and be proficient in guns like Lonnie.  We know the mindflayer is also associated with lightning/storms (but that’s only because it’s one of Ww’s abilities). When Hopper sees Joyce’s phone he even says “storm bq-ed this pretty good.“ And in s2 a scientist said the same phrase while in the upside down looking at the burned equipment the mf created. Showing a correlation between Ww and the mindflayer. CAUSE THEY’RE THE SAME PERSON. In the comic we see electricity come out of Ww’s hands. And in s1 he drew his wizard character with lightning (BEFORE) he went to the upside down.  And in s2 WW was drawn with flames on his cloak.

Will in his cannon journal even draws the mind flayer with red lightning, and later  uses red paper to sketch clouds/lightning and pastes a picture of himself on to it. Because deep in his subconscious (along with the memories of his father- he realizes he created the mf/ww). And Joyce even describes the tunnels he draws as “like lightning.” And note in s1 we are told Lonnie taught Will baseball (and this was when Jon told Will not to mimic him)- and suspiciously there is a baseball and baseball-mitt next to the ‘shadow monster’ (mf) drawing and a bat (next to the ww drawing in castle byers). Cause mf= ww.  Will lies and says the mf is just a sketch for a story he’s writing- but even if that’s not exactly true. The mf is still something he unconsciously created.And of course Will is called ‘zombie boy’ and in s3 when Will watches a zombie movie and writes a d&d story about juju zombies- the mf creates zombies and creates a monster resembling the thing (because when Will was writing his d&d story he was next to the ‘the thing’ poster in s3. In s2 Will playing dig dug which is about underground mazes- so the supernatural underground caves are made. And it’s a callback to the s1 d&d game with “troglodytes “ (cave men). And in s3 the Russians had the underground lab too - sort of being the troglodytes in a way.And similar to s1, after Will watches poltergeist Will/ww is thrust into the same scenario as the little girl (being trapped in another dimension- where the mothers can only hear their voices and communicate to them through electronics ). Like how rolling the 7 in d&d caused him to be captured by the demogorgan in the game and real life. Nancy saying: “So this thing is like a brain that’s controlling everything.”Hopper then says “So how do we kill this thing shoot it with fireballs?”And Dustin says “ No, No, fireballs you summon an undead army.”But Mike actually nails it on the head when he says, “If the brain dies the body dies … closing the gate will kill him(referring to Will).Because it’s not the mindflayers’ brain - it’s Will’s brain- that both Will and the mf share!

In the episode after the mindflayer  enters Will - the episode is literally titled “ Will the wise”. Here we see a ‘slow switch’ occur.”Slow switches are when two or more alters (Will and mf) are co-conscious to varying degrees and slowly blending and retreating to allow one alter (mf) to gain prominence .Some indicators that a switch may be about to occur include feeling "spacey.”

In this episode we don’t see A full switch but ‘blending’. “ A full switch is rarely necessary. Instead of an alter switching to front, they can exert passive influence on the alter currently at front (Will) . Passive influence can be described as intrusions from alters that are not currently prominent in the mind or using the body. This may manifest as ego-alien thoughts, knowledge, memories, feelings, emotions, opinions, preferences, urges, abilities, or actions. These intrusions may vary in strength and influence and may result in the fronting alter taking actions or voicing opinions that they can't explain or account for.” 

We see this with Will’s ‘now memories’ the reason he refers to them as “now-memories” is because they are things he’s already experienced (as memories) but he’s only now remembering them- because of his “dissociative-amnesia’ .  An example is  Will fearing the tub, and  yelling at his mom -confused at his own reaction. Because ww is the one afraid of the tub not Will.This is because this is one of the locations abuse often takes place. There’s at least 20 movies where a bad guy tries drowning someone in a tub. In splice, the cell, and the ring  all incorporate an ab*sive father trying to drown his young child. In the cell the father would beat his son, burn him, called him homophobic slurs, and almost drowned him and causing a seizure.When Will tries to take a bath it’s overplayed with Mr Clarke saying (in front of a model of a human brain) -  “Organisms instinctively respond to danger, expose a bacterium to a toxic chemical and it will flee or deploy some other defense mechanism. We’re very much the same.” As a flash of  Will’s “now-memories” occur as he stares at the tub. And we see a zoom in shot of the back of his head (which Will said is associated with memories) . And Mike stares at Will’s empty desk.Meaning, Will’s starting to fear the bath as he’s  starting to remember (subconsciously) what previously occurred there because of WW- Lonnie/tubs being the ‘toxic chemical’ in the analogy. 

WW fully takes control/switches in the following episode ‘Dig dug’ when he wakes up from the nightmare of Hopper being attacked in the cave- this is indicated by zooming in on the drawing of ‘Will the wise’ before he wakes up. And explains his odd behavior- of being oddly quiet . Looking up surprised at all the cave/vine drawings on the walls. It’s common for alters to pretend to be the host when they switch. He displays being able see into the future (like Will describes WW him being able to do in s3-  like when ww in s2 says Hopper will die), and he late tracks Hopper’s location by closing his eyes like the drawing of ww. Mike mentioning he’s a ‘superspy’  right after he finds Hopper- the next episode is even called “the spy” as Mike realizes he’s the mf and says he’s  “the spy”. He initially tried to help until the soldiers burned him (causing a seizure like Lonnie previously caused) and later when they burn him again. He decides to kill them- similar to how El killed 2 men for putting her in solitary confinement multiple times.

However,  I need to point out “ protectors are still and always protectors. What changes is the protective behaviors no longer look obviously protective and in actuality may be harmful and life threatening to the host.” He still acts as a protector saying he got upset when they hurt him/Will. And participating in a supernatural-extreme version of ‘thought snatching’.”thought snatching" (taking away your thoughts) can be caused by the actions of alters.” So he incorrectly tries wiping all of Will’s thoughts/memories to shield the body from past trauma.

Mf is also hinted to be under the category of a ‘ demon alter’- Will being handed the “devil’s baby” firework and in the background is a sticker of a demo(n)-dog  . “Demon alters are often a form of protector known as a persecutor.Some people have alters which are supernatural beings. These are regarded as possession-form identities, if a person is consciously aware of the actions of the alter then the person may describe themselves as feeling "possessed" by an outside person, spirit, deity (god), or demon.”

“Attempts to banish them using religious techniques such as "deliverance" or exorcism do not work permanently, can be harmful and may prolong any internal war between alters and preventing healing .”

“Ignoring them, trying to shut them up or restrain them, punishing them, or any of the various attempts at “getting rid of them” will not only never work (their needs will only become greater and louder), they’ll become more and more traumatized as you confirm to them their every belief about the world. 

“You can’t actually “get rid of them” anyway, so it’s far better to try and understand them. “  

So yeah- our heroes literally did everything wrong to make it worse.And literally mimicked Lonnie who tied him to chairs in his shed (and like Brenner did to joyce/ Russians did to Robin & steve) or to a bed (like brenner to Terry/lonnie to Will) and hurt and burned him (like Lonnie). Also, FYI the person who was calling Joyce at the beginning of s2 and freaked her out, and later called during the excorcism was Lonnie- why WW freaked out over the call.Noah was even told to watch the excorcist for the burning scene at the end of the season. Even the movie implied it was all based on a similar trauma and it was in the girl’s head- she even while possessed had the male voice of the man who was implied to have ab*sed her and said phrases he said in the film. Similar to WW’s deeper non-human voice he used to try and tell them to ‘let him go.’

So in the next season he was worse than ever and wanted revenge on the people who tried to kill him. Because he fears they’ll come after him again and hurt him- similar to Kali who says the people who are still after her ( and burned her with a taser stick/nancy with burning stick) are still after them and will kill them. 

 We also see the mindflayer despite in the show and d&d lore be sensitive to sunlight pick the summer to come back. Now, why is that? The answer is simple it’s when Will started to realize his romantic feelings for Mike. Joyce at the beginning of the season says “You won’t think it’s gross when you fall in love”?But due to his ab*se - WW DOES! And Will just responds to Joyce , unconvincingly, saying  “I’m not going to fall in love.” But he already has! 

“Even non-ab*sive romantic relationships may provoke the protector’s vitriolic reaction if the relationship takes on a meaning which feels threatening. Simply feeling the possibility of closeness to another person may be the trigger because of the protector’s prior learning that trust and dependency lead surely and inevitably to ab*se and hurt.”(Mierendorf, 1993). EX: a persecutor alter who identifies herself only as "Me, Myself" was questioned about her anger  and violence to the host.

" she began becoming interested in boys, and dates, and all that [she trails off], and I hated it and I didn't want any part of it. So I quit, I wasn't going to do any more ... nobody was ever gonna touch me ...And whenever that would happen with Gretchen [the host] it would hurt me and I would hate it and I'd hate her, and I'd hate her for letting that happen . i wanted to k*ll her”

Whenever the Mf is close and Will touches his neck it relates to his romantic feelings for Mike. 1st time it’s on one of their ‘movie dates’, 2nd time when Will is sad when Mike and El walk off together down the hill to make-out, , 3rd time right after he smashed castle byers after Mike says “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls”, 4th time (after the fight with Mike) when Billy is yelling to open the door (a trigger) and confides in Mike, 5th time when Mike asks him to go away so he can talk to El in the hospital waiting area, and 6th time when Mike says he loves El. 

And in s3, Mike says on a rainy day “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls” (and similarly Lonnie called Will a “fag” and a “queer”). Then he leaves Mike’s house, tears-up all his sketches, comics, a pic of mike (things he loves). And uses a bat that Lonnie taught him to use -to destroy castle Byers (which was also built on a rainy day , after his dad left).He uses a bat, despite saying in s1 he doesn’t like baseball. He has a bat in castle byers (next to a WW drawing) and a mitt/ baseball in his room (specifically next to a picture of the mindflayer.) and Will looked at the Will the wise drawing and then destroys castle byers with a bat. Showing WW/mf are the same person and that WW (and even Will to some extent) is still not taking Jon’s advice about not mimicking Lonnie.He uses the bat (lonnie taught him to use) to try to “man-up” and destroy or even taint the things he loves- castle byers & Mike . And after this, he grabs his neck (which in s2 he said he associated with now-memories) and then says “He’s back” (aka Lonnie’s influence/mf). And then everything supernatural begins to escalate.

-“   another ‘threat’ the, the persecutor believes the host may pose in adolescence or adulthood is breaking the silence about the ab*se and/or the multiplicity. We then witness the protector’s desperate attempt to control the client, to “save him” from the expected dire consequences of revealing the secrets.”

“The persecutor frequently protects the host through scare tactics; through fear and intimidation. In order for this scare tactic to work the host must be convinced of the persecutor's capacity and willingness (even desire) to use the utmost in force and destructiveness. The persecutor must, in short, be viewed as Putnam described: "a fearsome, loathsome, deamon-like entity” .When the danger posed comes from outside the system  the persecutor uses the same scare tactics, trying to impress the intruder (in this case the therapist, etc) with his or her ferocity and proclivity to violence.The persecutor therefore becomes increasingly loaded with hostility toward the host, to the point where the original protective function can be lost to their consciousness.Finally, it should be obvious that the persecutor who uses threats of violence to protect the host may be quite worried about either the host or  others uncovering the underlying protective intent of their actions because it disarms the power of their threat.”

EX:” Susan was a 31 year old woman who came in for treatment when she started recovering memories of inc*st which had begun with f*ndling and proceeded to r*pe just prior to adolescence. Susan reported a host of dissociative symptoms as well as feeling as if she had a "monster inside me who wouldn't allow me to heal.”Before the next session the therapist received a letter from an ego state named Shadow. The letter detailed how big and fierce Shadow was and how she was supposed to be feared, have control, and all the power.In the next session Shadow revealed that she had been using fear to prevent Susan from disclosing the ab*se. Shadow firmly believed that Susan's father would kill them if the abuse were disclosed.”

“As Putnam notes, while the persecutor displays “extreme contempt toward the host,” paradoxically, “the dominant emotion of the persecutor may really be love” (1989, p. 207). In fact, it is this very love which propels the persecutor in the harassment of the host -feeling it is a way to protect them from perceived threats. “

“  They are NOT the actual ab*ser.They are just copying behaviors shown to them by bad people, not harboring the intent, sadism or immorality of the actual perpetrators. We understand this change ( from protector to persecutor) and  displaying ab*sive behaviors does not reflect an underlying character structure.Instead we understand the change as demonstrating a past adaptive instrumental use of violence in an attempt to preserve the system in the face of a [perceived] threat.’

**Another words,  for anyone confused- WW went from childhood  protector to teen persecutor because of perceived threats. Will (the host) becoming aware of his romantic feelings for Mike and Will slowly and subconsciously gaining his memories of past ab*se - and WW fearing once he remembers he’ll tell someone. So he wants to prevent this by scaring Will and others .And does this by playing the role/character of a scary monster- mimicking the scariest things he knows Lonnie and the mf from d&d. It’s also possible like some persecutors he’s forgotten his original protective function or like other persecutors he’s simply masking how he’s trying to protect Will (because if anyone knew he cared for Will the threat wouldn’t be affective anymore).

‘Alters "should be treated with equal kindness," despite their behaviors.Persecutors are often  "misguided protectors" which can be negotiated with. With ‘patience, persistence and kindness" they can be allowed to choose a different role once the person is safe from ab*sers. The persecutor can be "turned into a constructive force" (Watkins, 1978, p. 397) and become “one of the therapist’s strongest allies and can play a major role in the healing of the patient” (Putnam, 1991, p. 205) (*I’ll talk more about this in my s4 analysis) .With healing a non-human alter can even turn human again! "I have an alter who was a persecutor for a long time. A lot of people see persecutors as bad and sometimes even the persecutors themselves see themselves as bad. This alter saw herself as an ab*ser and carried an awful lot of self hate, but she wasn't bad really because her motives were to protect us even though she wasn't going about it in a very good way. She thought that if she punished us and scared us into 'keeping in line' then other people wouldn't have to hurt us. Eventually she learnt that hurting us wasn't necessary, so now she is trying to learn how to protect us in more healthy ways."

-Wizard

There’s also important inspirations for the show to mention that support this theory:

Montauk Project’- The original title for Stranger things was “Montauk”- in reference to the Montauk Project. It was about experiments conducted on psychic children, where the scientists would “break” them psychologically to strengthen their powers and to program them. Duncan who could “open portals to other dimensions-  let loose a monster from his subconscious.”

‘A wizard of Eathsea’ (which suzie mentions in s3)- Is about a male wizard Ged (Will) who casts a powerful spell, but the spell goes awry and instead he releases a shadow creature! The new Archmage, Gensher, describes the shadow as an ancient evil that wishes to possess Ged. But the ‘shadow’ turns out  to be a representation of the darkest aspects of his personality. And the only way for the chaos to stop is for ged and the shadow to merge.

‘the dark crystal’ movie poster in Mike’s room is about a race called urSkeks who inadvertently divided themselves into two separate beings; the violent, materialistic Skeksis, and the gentle, contemplative urRu. It was only when they merged back together as one could harmony and peace be restored to the world.

‘Long kiss goodnight’- both (’good’ and supposedly ‘bad’) personalities also integrate into 1 happy personality.

In d&d  “it’s also possible, although rare, for an extremely powerful mind flayer wizard to become a true lich, also known as an illithilich. illithid's last desire upon death was to be rejoined with its elder brain.” ( Will’s mind/ he wants to integrate with Will).

Even the way the mindflayer/ ‘shadow monster’ functions is similar to the ‘shadow phoenix’/how integration in DID works.  “They considered feeding on brains as a euphoric experience as it absorbed its victim's memories, personality, and fears.”

The dark phoenix (referenced in s1ep1)  fails to merge with jean so goes to merge with her clone body as the next best thing. In this case the mf went to Will’s second alter William/Billy. And as Will states “another me”. Later Jean, Phoenix, and madelyn (clone) merge into 1 person- the new-jean now having the memories and personality traits of all 3.

in s1 Mr clarke describes the vale of shadows (later the upsidedown) as being created by “necrotic” (’dead’-zombie boy) and shadow (shadow monster) magic. In d&d the Vale of Shadows, is  as a lush valley hidden in the mountains that holds a sacred pool with the power to make dreams reality. (In this case nightmares representing past ab*se). He even describes his ‘now memories’ as ‘like a dream’.

In ‘never ending story’ referenced in s3 -  the land of Fantasia represents humanity’s imagination and is thus without boundaries. However ‘the Nothing’ (the physical manifestation of darkness) which has taken over Fantasia and it’s inhabitants is a manifestation of the ‘loss of hopes and dreams’.  

Silent hill videogames/movies (duffers cited as inspo):. “The bad guys faked Alessa’s death. Kaufmann prepared a substitute body of alessa;  and performed the fake "autopsy (like Will) .Alessa believed that their current world must be cleansed with fire (WW’s fire powers). Alessa had a very dark, violent, traumatic and ab*sive childhood: r*ped, beaten, tortured, and even burned , all by the age of 7- “it was a 7″). She had supernatural powers and was called a witch. She had precognition (future/intuition) and pyrokinesis (fire) which developed after her ab*sive mother burned her (like ww). It’s  also implied Dahlia her mother would lock Alessa in their house's dark attic for long periods of time for any irreligious behavior (the trunk).Alessa was "always"  sad, and  Alessa only found respite when escaping to other worlds through fantasy to cope with and comfort herself in the face of her harsh reality. At times, Alessa seems to completely withdraw inward, perhaps as a result of years of trauma as there are many instances of her becoming unresponsive when questioned.Because of  all of her ab*se  Allesa’s soul split in 1/2 (becoming Alessa and Cheryl).Selfless at heart, she cared for her second half /reincarnation more than she cared for herself, wanting to spare them the hellish nightmare she endured at the hands of her ab*sive mother and her cult. For seven years (it was a 7), Alessa endured her suffering because she had not wanted to destroy whatever small happiness her other self was able to enjoy, but little by little, it became more than Alessa could bear. Alessa's latent psychic abilities are triggered and she shrouds Silent Hill in fog and an altered reality to prevent her mother's scheme from advancing. Many of the drastic changes that befall the town in the game, such as the horrific creatures that come to inhabit it, are conjured from her imagination and delusions. “ ( personally i think Lonnie went to the house offscreen in s1 and tried to take Ww- why when lonnie is at the byers house they zoom in on a bullet in the tv for some reason with no explanation on how it occurred).  Cheryl and Alessa also later merge again .

mystic river-in the 80s, a young boy who plays baseball is r**ed by 2 men in a cabin in the woods and escapes and runs into the forrest . He  imagines perpetrators as werewolves and vampires as a way to cope. And imagines he’s in a scary world that no one else can see (that disappears when he turns around). And he even has a split personality. He wishes he could turn into a undead monster so he doesn’t have to feel the pain of being human anymore.

other DID movies/show inspirations for St (some realistic /some more supernatural so resemble DID) : prince of tides,primal fear (realistic DID ,caused by childhood se*ual trauma).supernatural/ or non realistic DID:  elfen lied, exorcist, and Audrey rose .

 Now on to the next point- “chronologically, it is the persecutory alter personality who creates the first split. Helper alter personalities constitute the second split, and as such, constitute a defense against the first split. These two successive splits constitute the basic dissociation. Further alter personality formations are only of secondary nature. In order to cope with the first split, the host personality produces companions resembling [him] as a second defense.The alter personalities developing in the second phase originate from the desire of the host personality to regain her previous strength and from her striving to create alter personalities resembling herself who share the same aim with her.”

So to make it simple some alters are more based on Will in order to combat the alters more based on WW/mf (the 1st alter/. protector- persecutor). So let’s talk about other alters based on ww/mf.

Kali Prasad (avenger alter/ different race alter) 

“The avenger holds the rage from the childhood abuse and may attempt to avenge themselves or seek retribution from the ab*ser.”

”Different race alters are generally created for the stereotypic or imagined qualities of that race, as experienced or perceived by the host personality.  Fike gives the example of a Caucasian patient with a Native American alter personality who represented spirituality and other-worldliness. “ we actually see  Kali who is the embodiment of her religious counterpart.Kali is a (Hindu goddess). And Prasad is a holy offering to gods and goddesses in hinduism.

 Kali’s name means “destroyer of all evil forces” and in mythology she was considered “ a divine protector and the one who bestows liberation to her children”. However , the goddess Kali’s iconography is generally associated with death and violence and paradoxically (at the same time) “motherly love”. Kali is sometimes considered the goddess of death but more accurately she “brings the death of ego”. She only kills demons.  She is considered one of “the most compassionate of the gods because she provides liberation to her children”. She is commonly depicted holding a sword and the head of a demon. “A latitude soul sees mother Kali as very sweet, affectionate, and overflowing with incomprehensible love for her children” (the numbers and her gang of misfits).She is called the Divine Mother  & Mother of the Universe. And when talking to El the sign there’s a says ‘spiritual advisor’  behind her.

“ It has been suggested that a male child that is being ab*sed might create a female headmate because he needs a "mother" role in the attempt to soften what might be angry and aggressive behavior on his part as a male DID sufferer. “

we see other evidence of her being an alter as well. Her saying she feels ‘whole’ with EL around. And In the episode before Kali is introduced. Will describes his now memories as “spreading” “growing” and “killing”.  Meanwhile, after this Kali describes her and El’s wounds (caused by their father) in the same fashion. Kali describes how El has to face her trauma or else, like it did with her it will “spread.” Kali later makes a imaginary Brenner to tell El the same words Will said earlier- saying she has to face her trauma or else it will “grow” and “spread “ and “kill” her. in never ending story (reffed in s3) Sebastian who unbeknownst to him created an imaginary mythical world with characters who’d copy phrases their creator  Sebastian said.

She also says everyone sees her and El as monsters because of their powers- something ww/mf feels (literally becoming one because of this and his ab*se).  And Kali and El say that people hurt them -so they should be allowed to kill them. Kali making the distinction (more aligned with the mf) saying the people who hurt her are still after her -so she’s just making the first move and killing them as preemptive self defense. Something the mf also does, saying in s3 El could have killed him, and targeting those that hurt him and said they wanted to “kill” him in s2 . It’s the same logic as Kali. 

And before kali and El talk we see kali look up to el, as they pass by  graphiti that says ‘barbelith” which in the comics ‘the invisibles’- is the connection between humanity and the holographic world that we see. Aka her and Kali interacting in what’s actually the innerworld. Like Dustin said about the upsidedown “it’s a parallel world existing right beside you, without you even knowing it.”

why the tv of Kali’s tormenter (who tased her as a kid) is watching a show about a kid having a nightmare about being held down and having a needle put in her arm that kept getting bigger and bigger. Like how WW was pinned down and forced to take a shot in the arm.

Even the butterfly she creates could be possibly connected to WW- because butterfly decorations are above the byer’s phone (WW electercuted). And similar to Kali’s description the ficitonal russians (npcs) are also very stereotypical based on what an american kid might hear about ‘evil soviets’. They also use the same tasers as Kali’s ab*sers in the lab. In some movies it’s implied Lonnie may have tased his kids so maybe that’s why? And we see like how the gang tied up the mf to a chair, and shot him with a needle needle- the russians do the same to robin & steve.We also see Kali and El attack a man at a gas station -similar to the russian hitman npc from s3.

And Kali rescues a girl (npc) from a mental health hospital -called ‘dottie’ which is a term for being mentally ill. Lucas also claims El may have escaped from a psych hospital. Personally, i think this is foreshadowing of Mike helping Will out of one (like how Dustin and Lucas bring up ‘myers’ escaping one), but I digress.  in Kali’s place grafiitti also says ‘o’bedlam’a poem about neglected mentally ill beggers .  And compares her crew (of npcs) to herself and El- like dottie (mentally ill) because she’s part of a did system.  Axel with his knife (lonnie loves his hunting knives and used to threaten Will with them and thus did so to el). And El and Will share the same stuffed bear- ‘so there’s the care bear’, one of kali’s crew even wears a clown mask, and axel wears the mummy mask seen at Melvald’s where Joyce works. There’s also the connection of the ‘rainbow room’ (with a rainbow drawing) on the door - relating to  Kali & El and Will’s rainbow-ship drawing.And kali also likes rock music like Will/Billy. And when El first sees her-she’s near fire (ww connection).

El  (caretaker & gate keeper alter)

“A gatekeeper is an alter who controls switching or access to front, access to inside or certain areas inside, or access to certain alters or memories. The existence of a gatekeeper is highly stabilizing for a system because gatekeepers can to some extent prevent unwanted switching, failure to switch when necessary, or failure to switch to the correct alter. They can help to prevent traumatic memories from bleeding from the alters who hold them to alters who could not yet handle them. They might police the boundaries between subsystems.These alters help prevent traumatized alters from fronting. This can be important because there is a chance that the trauma holders may want to harm the body.”  In case you haven’t realized ... el is a horrible gate keeper-opening the gate and leaving it open for a year, not sensing it being reopened in s2 or 3 (too busy thinking about mike in s2/ dating him in s3), and thus causing more trauma to Will (who started to remember old confusing and traumatic memories), and causing Billy, and Max to be traumatized.

she’s also most likely a caretaking alter-“Caretaking alters are a type of a protector, they help manage and care for other alters, and sometimes external people (for example children).  “

“They are often motherly, and may be modeled on a real person (WW’s appearance- WW looking like Will except having brown eyes, and El looking like the female equivalent).  “Caretaking alters lack awareness of self-care and become exhausted easy; they only have a limited role and have little capacity for play, exploration or socializing.” El fighting to exhaustion, being isolated for most of her life and being in the cabin for 9 months (s2-3), comforting billy/Will, and again only not abiding by this when Mike is involved -hurting Max out of jealousy.

Her inability to speak well could be from neglect and social isolation, but  ‘Ab*sive groups are known to have created alters which appear either "crazy" or learning disabled, for example training alters to scramble or garble words so they can’t report ab*se.Alters may be disabled when the body is not, for example a mute alter may be created in response to abusers instructions, e.g. "Don't talk.”

El also shows the trait of ‘memory sharing’.

Memory sharing

“We’ve managed to create a system within us. In order to grant access to memories with each other we have to come to know each other and gain each other's trust.  Caroline says “when the memory sharing happens- the best way I can describe it to a non DID person is by asking you to remember/think about a movie with Wizards or characters like from twilight where they have the power to touch you and let you see their visions and/or memories. Sounds crazy I'm sure— but that's as close as I can possibly describe it.The memories literally pour into me exactly like that. “

After Will disappears, El appears to the audience for the first time. Having similar sounding names and having a striking resemblance (and 1 syllable nicknames ending in L) . Troy, Benny, Hopper, and an eyewitness all initally assuming she was a boy. Hopper even tries to track down El, assuming it was Will who’s hair was shaved-  asking “could it be Lonnie’s kid?” and the man responding “could of been the Byers boy”. Mike even says “Do you really think it’s a coincidence we found her in the same place Will disappeared?”The answer being No. The song “Alice” (from alice in wonderland) plays when El is at the restaurant -indicating El has entered a new world (our world). *Also, both Alexi and El are bribed with hamburgers to give the adults info they need.

El is an alter based on WW . Like WW she is afraid of the underwater sensory deprivation tanks her dad made her go into (Lonnie and ww with the tub). in s1 El used the pool/sensory deprivation to contact Will- the episode is even called “the tub” . And she thinks of this idea to talk to Will -after staring at the tub in the byers house and then remembering the deprivation tank. When in the pool or ‘tub’ at school the water slowly becomes dark as she enters the darkness- the void is a connection to the mf/ shadow monster. 

She unlocks doors and it’s framed ominously just like the demogorgan does in the first ep. In d&d lore Mindflayers have “telekinetic abilities akin to mage hand (El was called a mage) and telekinesis.” I still think the mf may now have her telekenesis  (which was originally his to begin with). We also see El fade away with the demogorgan as she and the demogorgan mimic each other’s body language. This was probably supposed to be El most likely integrating with the demogorgan (until the Duffers admitted to changing their minds).  And In s1/2 she has black veins appear while not being possessed. 

Dustin in s2 mentions the mf “doesn’t know it’s true home.” which is illustrated by  El wandering around as Hopper, Becky, and kali try to convince her they’re her home. El saying she’s the monster in s1 is also how the mf aka WW feels about himself.  And Will/ww was thrown in the dark trunk by Lonnie (perhaps after refusing to shoot an animal ) so for El it became Brenner throwing her in a dark room in solitary confinement after refusing to kill a cat. in s1 El draws similar to Will/ww and draws Brenner with a 3rd leg (cause even if brenner didn’t do so to her - the memory bled through from ww).  Benny suspected El has been “ab*sed or something” and she didn’t seem to understand privacy -undressing in front of the boys.

El cries thinking of the time she killed a squirrel (typical hunting game) and eating it and somehow knowing how to make a fire (a Ww skill). El when re-enacting this forgotten experience of WW’s , spots a sketchy ominous hunter and throws a fired projectile at him and runs. Like WW who uses his fireballs to hurt the bad guys- in this case the hunters (Lonnie and his buddies). Similar to the demogorgan who killed 2 hunters in s1. 

When she goes into the void and sees the demogorgan- we even hear a clock ticking in the background indicating this is associated with the past. When Will encounters the mf a similar thing happens- as the clock moves unnaturally. And similar to the mf she attacks her abusers and throws them into a wall (which mf did in s3). Throwing Nancy into a wall after she burned him.

Unfortunately in the ‘long kiss goodnight’ a girl with multiple personalities (Will/ww) was thrown and tied up in a trunk and when the trunk was opened the main villain tried to sell her for... you know . Then she escapes and jumps off a cliff into the water to escape the r**e (quarry flashback?) . This guy later tries to drown her too. While in skyfall, number-tattoos on the wrist were indicative of being sold into the s*x tr*de (El/kali’s tattoos- Will saw something?) . I really hope this isn’t the case - but this is the man who wanted to make money off his son’s death to to pay off his gambling debt. In one movie the bad guy sold his gf for a case of beer and some smokes, while playing a card game. And unfortunately, the fact Will was triggered to see the mf after Mike says “i’m not pr*stituting my sister?” may indicate something from the past as well (maybe Jon saying something ?). Along with El  being chased by “bad men”. It’s possible those 2 hunters were pals with lonnie and got what was coming to them. On to the next point-

El - is the Cannanite (male) god associated with “salt water “ (pool filled with salt in s1) who “dwelled in a tent” (in s1 Mike’s blanket fort) . In s1 El owns a male lion doll and Will has a female lion . The fact El first appeared looking like a boy,  is named after a male god, El in spanish translates to “he”, and she has a male lion toy could symbolize a few things.  In ‘prince of tides’ when the boy cried the dad yelled for him to go put on a dress.In ‘the cell’ the ab*sive father beat his young son with a belt, burned, and drowned him (causing a seizure), threw homophobic slurs at him, and called him a ‘women’ multiple times while beating him. And said “I’ll teach you to be a woman.” Some specialists say one of MANY possible reasons a boy may have a female alter is cause they were “forced to cr*ss dress “ but obviously that’s not the only possible reason. (And no, this doesn’t apply to trans women- making sure no one tries putting words in mouth). I think of the moment where boyish-looking El runs away into the woods, and takes off her wig and screams in anger at the reflection of herself in the water -may be a recreated event from the past). The fact El [is a male god]  and in spanish El (the way it’s spelled in the show means “he’)  is also possibly intentional . In addition to the fact El is the only alter who physically resembles Will and is the only one with a buzzcut , unlike Kali (who in the flashback at Hawkins lab had all her hair) is something to take note. El could be an inverse of Will’s experience. El as a girl was stripped of her femininity from her papa.  Because Will was a boy forced to dress girly cause of his dad . El having a male lion and Will having a female lion being used to symbolize this. WW was the one who went through this abuse and also had brown eyes  like El ( unlike Will)- so in regards to physical appearence she is his ‘girl version’.Since like many ab*sers Lonnie gave Will mixed messages he could never abide by . In mad max furry road the villain named ‘daddy’ forced his sl*ve to shave their head and branded them with a tattoo like El (he also had 3 s*x s**ves)

-in s2 the song ‘don’t mess around with Jim’ plays. Upon character introductions of lyrics “Jim walker” pans to Jim Hopper and “boy named Will-ie Mccoy” (pans to El).

-Hopper in ep1 mention (El)eanor Gilipse-surname of girl in silent hill with powers/DID.

-the never ending story ref also alludes to how El was created by Will similar to another superpowered human (ww).  El is atreyu and Will is sebastian. El is atreyu- who is said to be the chosen one. He falls from a great height and on to the beach shore, and comes across abandoned ruins, and then the villain gmork latches his jaws on to his leg (like El). It’s revealed atreyu isn’t actually the chosen one and everyone was wrong . And it was actually the poor human kid (Sebastian - who has a bowl cut and one parent and secretly had imagination-powers ) .  Atreyu is told to look at the mirror of his ‘true self’ and is shocked to see Sebastian (his unknown creator) looking back at him. “turn around , look at what you see. In her face- the mirror of your dreams.” 

-In the novel Sebastian even temporarily went evil when he lost all his memories  except those of his father- similar to Will/ww. Sebastian created the whole fantasy story and it’s inhabitants (with their own sentience).  So only he had the capability to remove the darkness from the fantasy world they inhabited. The darkness representing the loss of hopes and dreams.

-Elfen lied (another inspo for the series according to the duffers)- has a Super-powered protagonist/anti hero/ and tragic villain.”She has three split personalities due to past trauma . The three are Lucy, Nyu, and Kaede.  Kaede : (childhood love/friend of Kouta) from ‘mapple house’ (cough- ‘mapple street’/ Will). Nyu: is mentally the age of a young child in the body of an adult, who can barely speak, and found by Kouta after she escapes the lab who experimented on her .Nyu is like a very sheltered child and has a very tiny outlook on the actual world and can only speak one word at the start of the anime (El).Lucy:Her violent personality, who has a distaste and hate for humans after humans traumatized her as a child. Although deep down she wants to be human (mf).”

We also see both the Will/mf and El called spies, have ptsd, described as ‘quiet’, and had their dads force them to kill animals. El growls like an animal after the mf growls at her first.  And in regards to the supernatural Ww and El both have powers. They both could communicate through different dimensions using electronics. Both of their moms’ had “crazy aunts” . Both  are called “schizos” in s2 because of their powers (did is most commonly misdiagnosed with schizophrenia which i do think that will occur initially- mrs driscoll not being believed about the supernatural because of her being a ‘paranoid schizophrenic’ is foreshadowing). Both Will and her had their brain waves monitored at the lab and their measurements were off the charts, plus they were being unknowingly recorded on video.They both tore through walls (with that pink gunk between the normal world and upside down). El even goes through the entrance covered in goo (like a baby) as a hint she was born from the upsidedown! 

We see in Terry’s place (El’s room) symbols associated with Will- clowns and rabbits ( like how Lonnie made Jon kill rabbits on hunting trips). They even chose white rabbits- like those in Alice in wonderland and earlier associated with El.

El/ww can also both can track others when concentrating -Ww found Hopper, El found Will. Both communicated psychically by transferring their conscious- El to talk to Mike in his basement using the void (in s2) & Will to his mom in the living room (in s1).  Also before Will goes missing , he asks Dustin for his X-men comic- later in reference to El, Dustin asks “Do you think El was born with her powers like the X-men?” And when Mike says El is “channeling him (Will)”. Dustin says “like professor x”-clearly hinting that they were both born with powers, like the X-men.

However, El is how Max described “her own person.” When Dustin says she’s “like a wizard (like ww) Mike corrects him and says “more like yoda.” And the longer she stays in the real world the more differences she has to Will/ww as she evolves into her own person. She doesn’t have many interests in common with Will :d&d, scifi, computers, science, horror movies etc. And like i’ve explained in other posts - she isn’t actually in love with Mike. And her obsession with mike not only inhibits her role as an alter but her own independence/personhood , along with Will’s healing ( which depends on Mike and other’s support).  I think the main reason we never see Will & El interact significantly (despite the parallels) is because they’re growing apart as they develop as people and go on divergent paths. I feel like if someone doesn’t integrate it’s most likely El (and probably Max). While Kali most likely integrates- since she was brought to tears by seeing another alter and said  she feels “complete” with El - hinting she’ll probably desire to integrate into Will/ww in the future. in ‘annihalation’ a poc woman with a 8 tattoo on her arm integrates with others into a god like creature too . EL may eventually go by Elle [in french means ‘she’] when she becomes her own person, and gains independence, perhaps? 

demogorgan (fictional alters or ‘fictive’)

“Fictional introjects specifically are based off of fictional characters. These characters can be from television shows, movies, books, fantasy, and other forms of fiction.They don't have to think, act, look, or feel in the exact same ways that the fictional character does. Some fictional introjects can be ab*sive, and form as a way to continue traumatizing the system.” 

“ One of the main purposes of a father introject is to control your behavior when you are away from the father with the same intensity as if you were right in front of him. The father may have a variety of parts that are loyal to him, his beliefs, his ways, etc.’

 in d&d a demogorgon  is a  “demon from the abyss”. And are also called “the deep father”  , indicating his connection of being based on Lonnie. We even see Lucas hand Will a ‘devil’s baby’ firecracker (and behind will is a sign that says demon-dog) to indicate that Will’s father is the ‘devil’. The demogorgan is also first referred to as “the man without a face” in the show. Steve suggesting he does have a face but he was wearing a mask. And when Lonnie first ‘comes back’ to Hawkins Jon says “mom, did that thing (demogorgan) come back.” And Lonnie cuts him off after the comment saying ‘that’s enough’. Lonnie also mentions to Joyce he explored the woods where Will went missing. And later Jon mentions how the demogorgan only ventures several miles from his house -like lonnie.  Jon also tells Nancy about how his dad forced him to go on hunting trips and in s1 we see the demorgorgan kill a deer (typical game), attack hunters, and capture Will in the shed (which contained the riffle and sleeping bags for camping). We are also told in s1 Lonnie taught Will baseball, and when the demorgorgan knocks the bat out of Jon’s hand he gets on top of him- putting his face close like he was about to kiss him. We even see in s2 - the pic of the mf next to a baseball bat and mitt.  And the demogorgan  on multiple occasions was mistaken for a bear (which Will sketches and El also is into teddy bears) and bears symbolically represent “wisdom” (will the wise).

And Lonnie when closing the hole in the wall says someone has to be blamed for what happened to Will- and it transitions to Mike tearing a hole in paper and explaining what happened to Will with the demogorgan. Lonnie caused the ‘tear’ in Will’s psyche. Lonnie is even the one to mention how people ‘make things up to cope.’And how people in the city are “more real” (possible alter foreshadowing).

 In  d&d demorgorgons also have 2 heads with distinct personalities, one wanting to stay as one and the other wishing to separate (a hint at Will’s DID and the fight between WW wanting to integrate personalities and Will not wanting to do so).

~El ,Kali, and the demogorgon being alters is why we see  the lights flicker when the demogorgan appears , and (sometimes) when El and kali use their powers- cause they’re based off ww who has lightning/electricity powers  which we saw in s1. Causing the lights to flicker at Mike’s place,  turning the bike light on with his mind,  causing sparks of electricity to come out of the phone 2x , using lights telepathically to talk to joyce (blinking ‘once for yes and twice for no’, and using the lights to tell Joyce to “run”).

demodogs/dart (animal alters)

“In some cases, what presents as an animal is really a child alter acting as an animal.  This is found in cases where the abused child was forced to act as an animal, usually a dog.”

 In mad-max the r**ist biker gang - ties up one of their victims on a leash like a dog. In unleashed the adoptive father made his son where a collar and called him ‘his dog’. ‘Orphan’ the girl wore a collar and the bullies pulled on it calling her a ‘doggie’ and she starts screaming and having an episode in school. In s1 Hopper says he likes the book cujo , that one of the guards is reading, and at the end of the book they replace the dog Cujo with a dog named Willie. In ‘the cell’ the villain put dog collars on his m*rder v*ctims cause he wanted to ‘own them’. In ghost Busters, Mike -is Venkman- and Will -is Dana Barret. Dana finds a demon-dog in her fridge, and hires the ghost busters. And right before Venkman goes on a date with her she is possessed by the big-bad, Zuul,  (who controls demo(n)-dogs). The s4 movies also allude to Lonnie possibly k**ling chester his dog cause when he was stalking Will (offscreen) chester would bark at him - like how he barked at  the demogorgan - one of the only other times we hear a dog bark is when we see Lonnie (at his place).

*There’s also the parallels of Dart to El. Dart killed a cat. While El’s papa tried to make her kill a cat (which dogs stereotypically don’t like-Lonnie most likely forced Will to kill a cat. ).Heck the russians even reference cats -linking them to El and the demodog. El/Dart also both have sweet tooths (eggos and 3 muskateers). Both were called traitors and ran away- and initially caused a rift in the group. And dustin and Mike said they made “promises” to El/dart and that  dart/el “trusted them” (mike &Dustin)”. Lucas in s1 also called El a ‘dog’ and El asked, annoyed,  if she was Mike’s “pet”.

Jim hopper  : Introject & adult alters

“System introjects are alters who are replications of a person from the outside world , who often believe they are the actual person (and not the replication).  They may adamantly believe that they are a different person . These parts contain a lot of memories, factual information, emotional realities for how it was like to be near the outside person.Introjects can also be based off of  figures that the dissociative child found strong, courageous, heroic, or otherwise worthy of being emulated and internalized and could theoretically protect them.”Jim even means to “supplant” (replace) or “supresede” (take the place of a person or thing previously in authority or use). Meaning, there was a Jim Hopper (Joyce knew in highschool) and a Jim Hopper alter based on him.

“older adult alters are created to serve a nurturing or parenting role, thus serving as a protector. (*protecting Will/el) . However, sometimes the age is related to taking on the identification of the ab*ser, and can therefore take on any of the other more hostile roles... Introjects which are mimicking ab*sers are trying to "keep you inline" in order to protect you from external ab*sers. They don’t dare relax their vigilance or let you fall away from the OLD RULES that were once so important.They are trying so hard to keep you safe. “

We even see the convo he has with El,  is similar to Neil and his ex wife- a man berating the girl after coming home, calling her a liar, and asking about what man they saw. And El yelling and saying Hopper is “like papa” when he yells at her  (the same season dr owens called him Will’s “pop”.  Would not be surprised if Lonnie would berate Will about seeing Mike. There’s even a physical resemblance- blonde, blue eyes, and similar moustaches to him and Neil.And he also parallels Billy & Max in s3 with the ‘door’ imagery.

“Being an introject is a difficult and thankless task. This member of your system has spent all these years acting out a role that they dislike every bit as much as you do.” *(berating El about the rules- that were most likely initially Lonnie’s. A part of me suspects that cabin wasn’t Hopper’s grandfather’s but Lonnie’s secret cabin where he took Will. And berate Will about seeing Mike. He was shown in s1 fixing the hole in the wall. And Hopper says about the cabin “ A LOT OF HISTORY HERE’ ). 

We see other alter hints too -He taught El morse code (which Will already knew). Murray says Hopper reminds Joyce of a previous “bad relationship” (lonnie). And the russians in order to get info, t*rture steve and threaten to rip out his finger nails , while, Hopper threatens to break the mayor’s fingers for info. 

And when a Russian goes into the carnival game in a room with tigers and clowns,   the speaker says “ if you dare enter the cave of horrors you may never know what you may find around the corner (clown laughs) . Don’t show your fear in the presence of the tiger or you may never escape this cave alive”.As he jumps out the tiger roars in unison with Hopper leaps out to attack.

The song you ‘don’t mess around with jim’ (from s2 and 3 that Jim dances and sings to ) is about a boy named Willie beating up a thug (who wears a hat) named Jim (representing resentment of father figures).  We see Villains have zoom in shots of their cigareete trays- like the h*tman, Billy posessed by the mf, and Hopper before he yells and threatens El in s2.  

In s1 It’s implied Hopper is addicted to pills , was an alcoholic (both him and Lonnie have many beer cans and cigareettes in their house- would not be surprised if Lonnie also had a pill addiction too) .

Introjects “ are NOT the actual ab*ser. They are a victim, a single part within a large beautiful mind, bred from the survivor's essence.They are just copying behaviors shown to them by bad people, not harboring the intent, s*dism or imm*rality of the actual perpetrators.”

“The introject in your system was there to help you when the stakes were very high and their job was deadly serious. It’s difficult for them to let go of that level of urgency. introjects represent how important it was, at one time in your life, to always be vigilant. Danger was always near you and you had to be careful of every move and every word, because your very survival might depend on not doing or saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

‘ introjects also represent the desperate hope that, if you could only do everything just right, obey all your ab*ser’s rules and anticipate exactly what was wanted of you, that it might lessen or even prevent some of the ab*se from happening. And gain approval or love from the ab*ser.”

We also see how he’s based on the mf/ww in a few ways: he describes his depression in s3 as being in a “deep dark cave” (the supernatural cave in s2/cave of horrors at the fair) and in s2 he says he thinks of himself as a “black hole” that will destroy everything around him including his daughter (the mf/Lonnie).

Now, cause people will mention it. We can’t take everything David says about Jopper seriously- he filmed s4 in advanced and lied constantly about the duffer’s not contacting him prior to this. I think he bs-es a lot and occasionally throws in hints. Like how in behind stranger things after mentioning Lonnie and Bob he compares jopper- to Jack and Evelyn from china town (who slapped her for lying -like Neil did to his wife. And we see duffers laugh hysterically and shawn  exchange a look with them cause they know David is giving a hint that isn’t positive). And evelyn was also r*ped by her father (there’s at least 30+ st movies the Duffers have cited with that dad plot point, unfortunately . Along with about 6-10 DID movies).  David said in an interview with  total film : “ In terms of Stranger Things, you’ll be able to look back at season one and see a lot of things that happen further down the line that relate to that.I’ve had those discussions with them from the very first season. We were always interested in that idea of the Gandalf resurrection – Gandalf the Grey who fights the Balrog and then becomes Gandalf the White.” Well this is a lothr ref (Which Will is into) but i think it’s also just a Will and ww hint -since in silent Hill when Alessa and cheryl mege back into 1 they become a deity- a serene white-clad figure, even the dragon relates to Will. But,  there’s also the fact David in multiple interviews  describes  Hopper as a ‘little boy’ . After s4 started he said about Hopper with Gold DERBY “  he’s also like a little boy who has been just so traumatized and so hurt that he can’t really have relationships with people that are full and that are honest... it makes it difficult for him to get close to people... all the joyce st-...There’s a lot to be revealed around the complexities of that story . Because when we know the ending you’ll be able to go back and watch it and see what we were planting in s3 , that paid off in s4 and s5. That will make those intimacy issues a lot more understandable.” 

Since Hopper-alter thinks he’s the real-Hopper (Joyce’s old friend/ possible ex) he hits on Joyce.There’s the references to back to the future. Steve incorrectly saying it’s about alex keaton “trying to b*ng his mom.” And stobin’s exchange about the movie alludes to what Jopper actually is  “I think that lady is trying to bang her son/ no, but, they’re the same age?/ He needs to get back to the future ,which is his time, cause he’s stuck in the past (trauma)/ W-What?” 

And the season where Jopper was the most evident we see another alter (Billy) hitting on someone who is old enough to be/ resembles his mom. Her being a wheeler could also represent Will’s repressed feelings for Mike. Along with Illustrating his subconscious issues with parental figures cause of Lonnie. Dianne (Hopper’s ex wife) - even is a roman goddess of hunting.

In s2 Nancy asks Steve how his “grandpa’s time in the war is a metaphor for your life?” And steve compares the mf to the germans in the war. Dr owens mentions Will has ptsd like “ (vietnam) soldiers’, Hopper saying he had buddies like Will . “In the 70s there was a study that compared the post-traumatic stress symptoms in Vietnam veterans and adult survivors of childhood s**ual ab*se. The study revealed that childhood s**ual ab*se is traumatizing and can result in symptoms comparable to symptoms from war-related trauma.” Hopper isn’t actually in Russia -but in one of the innerworlds (after he jumped through the rift of the machine- into Will’s mind). We’ll see flashbacks but also present circumstances of his imprisonment echo Will’s past with Lonnie (if the movies indicate anything)- being starved, guards getting payed in order to let other prisoners  r*pe a gay prisoner (than claim incorrectly because of his sexuality he wanted it) , as well as a gang of sadist men who r**e others and a warden using that as a threat to be compliant , being thrown in a dark room of solitary confinement and starved when they didn’t obey the warden, the warden being religious, etc. And the Anerican soldiers (in Vietnam) in the movies aren’t much better and do similarly horrific acts to civilians like r**e and bragging/ happily k*lling women, children, and the elderly. The drill sergant in vietnam calling them homophobic slurs & women, and chocking one of the soldiers with one hand, slapping one for not believing in christianity. Tying up a soldier in a bed , gagging him, beating him and saying “remember it’s just a dream.” Only praising them when good in fire arms.(movies : fullmetal jacket, papillon, shawshank redemption, platoon, welcome to marwen, etc ) . My assumption is while in solitary he has flashbacks of his life- and it’s more hints about him being an alter -the boxes in the basement are “vietnam” ,“dad”, and “ny” (and these are the memories of his we’ll see). And some of the bad characters in said stories will also parallel Lonnie . For instance in s2, Jonathan mentions Indiana writer Vonnegut- In his book ‘slaughterhouse 5′- Vonnegut begins the story of Billy Pilgrim, a man who has “come unstuck in time”. It accounts of Billy Pilgrim's capture and incarceration by the Germans during the last years of World War II, and scattered throughout the narrative are episodes from Billy's life with his dad, and his own wife and kids.Billy is forced to be part of the war and similar things against his free will. The moments start from his childhood when his father throws him in the water to teach him how to swim. He was unwillingly drafted into the war. Later, he is kidnapped by Tralfamadorians  (aliens that are implied to be caused by his mental health issues/trauma) against his will. Therefore, he realizes that this concept is just an illusion. 

We also see Hopper being violent/aggressive to Mike foreshadowing how Lonnie will treat Mike (difference is it’ll be played completely serious).

Sara : “littles “ also called a child alter (not based on ww)

“Child alters often talk in a child-like way, but unlike a biological child they can normally understand abstract concepts and long words. Some child parts may ...  be playful and fun-living and have only positive memories. A child alter may also be an idealized representation of the "perfect child" from the "perfect" family, for example the "good boy/girl."

we see this in a few ways- Sarah winning the spelling bee (like Will winning the science fair) and Hopper describing her as very intelligent, but not knowing where she gets it from. She in the 1st episode is said to love science like Will (who won the science fair 4x) , and knows how to spell words like ‘odontalgia’.  In s1, Joyce and Hopper pretend with Sara and Will to be a witch and an ogre eating them.And in s1 Will and her both own cat plushies.  she has a tiger plushie (mascot of Will’s school, like with billy’s baseball mascott also being a tiger/ Will’s painting). And her hospital gown has clowns on it (Will’s fear). Hopper even pauses and has a flashback of sarah’s tiger when he sees Will’s lion plushie in the upsidedown .And when Will has a vine  in his mouth imagines sarah with tubes in her mouth.We see despite the fact Hopper didn’t move to Hawkins until after her death- she appears to be at Hawkins lab?

And Holly’s drawing is similar to el’s in s1.And , in s1, like Will she has an episode alluding to her seeing the void as she turns her head scared seeing something no one else can.Then in s2, Hopper says Sarah became obsessed with blackholes - and latter says that blackhole (mf?) got her. It’s possible she saw the void or even the mf and misinterpreted it as a blackhole. And  so she didn’t actually die of cancer - it was probably just symbolic of her integrating into the mf/ww (the blackhole ‘getting her’). Or it’s possible she’s just alive/in stasis in the innerworlds  after her ‘simulated death’

Also can we mention how there’s lions, tigers,and bears (as plushies)- oh my.  Along with the whole “home references”. Wizard of oz is on the movie list, and 2 wizard of oz movies shown in s3.

Robin Buckley

Robin Buckley (possibly an alter?)- Robin discusses with steve the legend of Prometheus , who not only gave human beings the gift of fire, and therefore civilization, but created them, giving them the gift of life. El watches frankenstein in s2 whose novel was titled “the modern prometheus”(another hint WW/Will created El). Steve when looking at Robin even says the biblical verse “let there be light” (the beginning of creation and human beings-i.e Robin).”And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.” (wow this doesn’t sound just like the black-watery-void in the upsidedown at all) XD. Robins were also considered holy birds by the God thor (the god of Thunder and lightning).  She’s gay, into comics, rides a bike,  and is afraid of drs just like Will is, and was tied to a chair for info like ww. She references surfing (billy) and has a spy storyline. She’s a smart,  into rock music and wants to fit in . And makes fun of her friends’ love-lives to hide her own insecurities about her own romantic feelings and sexuality (that weren’t accepted at that time). And has feelings for a girl who can’t sing (mike) who pays too much attention to a person who didn’t even like them (Steve/El) . Buckley could be a ref to a ‘buck’ deer (like the one the demogorgan killed in s1/ typical hunting game). And another legend says that the Robins were red because it scorched its bre*st in the fires of Purgatory, mercifully taking drops of water in its beak for the lips of the parched souls in torment( the opposite of devil-lonnie).Robins also feature in the traditional children's tale Babes in the Wood, the birds out of kindness cover the de*d b*dies of the 2 abandoned children found in the woods with strawberry leaves (who had been k*lled by an abusive family member) .  Not sure if mrs driscoll (being a strawberry name is a coincidence to that whole cherry/strawberry/heathers movie ref with alexi? Robin is also a unis*x/male name like most of the other gals on the list. While her crush ‘tammy’ (means ‘twin’. could be a clue about Robin being an alter?).  

the rebuttal could be simply: buckley can mean ‘goat’ which would match her bff’s surname Harrington (’he-goat’). And just be a cute little nod to them.While Robin means ‘bright fame’ just like our fallen super-hero Bob ( since robin and bob are nicknames for Robert)- so could also be a simple nod to him.But her names could be both a nod and a deep ref-  who knows.

Barb

Barb- Barbara means “strange” or “foreign” , while Barb means “stranger”. Her name could also be based on the saint Barbara- who was carefully guarded by her father who kept her locked up in a tower (like Hopper & Brenner to El/Lonnie to Will) in order to preserve her from the outside world . He later tries killing her. However, as punishment, he was struck by lightning on the way home and his body was consumed by flame (connection to ww who likes using fireballs against bad guys and who also has lightning powers). She’s best friends with a wheeler (although pictures show us unlike byler they’re not childhood friends). she may have been queer coded and had feelings for her bff  (moping after Nancy leaves to sleep with Steve) . In a s1 flashback Will specifically watched ‘poltergeist’ with his mom- and is then thrust into the same scenario as the little girl (being trapped in another dimension- where the mothers can only hear their voices and communicate to them through electronics ). And barb’s pool scene echos the pool scene in the movie too-a women being attacked in a pool ( and could be considered similar to being attacked in a tub/sensory deprivation tank). And similar to El , she wakes up in the upsidedown and pukes up a white fluid calling for Wheeler- but gets no help. Unlike Will. For Halloween she also dressed up as a scary clown (Will’s fear) when Nancy dressed up as a bunny (an animal lonnie forced them to kill).  She also is dragged away in a similar way to Billy -down stairs.

Her mom’s first name (Marsha) also has the same meaning as Martin Brenner- ‘war like’. A hint Lonnie is violent or maybe was a vet?

Other npcs

Besides the russians, we also have some of the americans who experimented in Hawkin’s lab: most notably Brenner and becky/terry Ives.

“Some survivors will internalize their family into their own DID system.“

Brenner and Lonnie have similar appearances (and in the original script he was suppose to be unshaved and wear plaid and jeans... prob too obvious to keep) . They forced their kids to kill animals, threw them in a dark places, submerged them into water, and also praised them when violent, and tied people to beds (yes lonnie did that - why mf and terry are both tied up there). Brenner even means- ‘someone who cleared forests by burning (showing his connection to ww with fire, and because forests is where hunting/ab*se took place).His collegue - the blond women’s name , Fraizer means -  “of the forrest men” (the male hunters who terrorized Will/ww most likely).

Terry/ Becky Ives.Becky means “snare-a trap for catching birds or animals”. While Terry (Teressa means “huntress’) .While Ives means-  yew wood (a tree).Terry’s backstory should also raise eyebrows when we see when going to Hawkin’s lab that the Byers’ car is there (a tip off this story isn’t reality but from Will’s subconscious). 

Terry also turns in pain on the bed and sees sunflowers. And Will has a sunflower book next to his bed.

While Terry has an appearance similar to Jon’s (blonde and almond shaped brown eyes and Terry is a unis*x name) and both steal guns and drive a long distance in order to help rescue Will/el. This is the season of ‘mr mom’ after all (where Jon takes pics of Will on Halloween just like the other moms). Becky also compares Terry to Joyce too by saying Hopper would have been her type . And both joyce and terry/becky have a “crazy aunt” and were both deemed as ‘crazy’ when not believed about their children being kidnapped and indeed alive. we also see in El’s room (that Terry decorated) -bunnies (that lonnie forced the boys to kill) and clowns (Will’s fear). Along with fox’s which were in castle byers.  We also see Owl’s in both the byers’ and Ive’s house (which also represent ‘paranomal wisdom’).  And Winona mentioned the movie ‘prince of sands’ in an st interview. In that the psychiatrist interviews the older brother to fill in the memory-gaps of his sister (who has DID so can’t remember) he eventually admits both were r*ped as kids. And also tells a story in therapy about how their mom m*scarried and the dad threw the st*llborne in the freezer over night-so let’s hope throwing the demodog in the freezer and Terry’s miscarriage doesn’t have that traumatizing meaning. It’s also possible Terry isn’t an npc but a type of alter-given how her and El participated in ‘memory sharing’ and Terry’s power’s affected lights.”An alter may be stuck in an eternal flashback or refuse to accept that anything has changed since the period of time during which they experienced trauma“ (Terry being trapped in the time-loop after being tied to the bed/attacked).

Npcs ...but possibly other alters

I believe susie was a npc created because Will felt bad for Dustin - after the max/lucas situation. so he made what he assumed would be the perfect girl for him. She even has the same name as Max’s mom:susie vs susan. He met her from camp ‘Knowhere’ ( she’s from no where). The blonde american spy (who is also an npc) even mentions a science tech camp in s1 that dustin goes to in s3 .She has space related stuff in her room like sarah, wizard of oz poster (referencing Will), and she reads the ‘wizard of Earthsea’ -about a boy-wizard named jed  who realizes the evil ancient shadow he’s been fighting is actually the dark part of his personality -and he needs to merge with it to bring balance. Everyone questions if she’s real or exists- similar to el asking Kali “are you real?”Stranger things instagram posted a fake movie poster- emulating ‘weird science’. A movie about 2 boys creating a ‘perfect women’ from scratch for them and comparing this created gal to susie (they aren’t endgame with this girl in the movie-despite her original programing). Like susie/dustin not being endgame.

Dustin on his canon spotify playlist even has the song ‘weird science’.Her appearance is based off what most boys liked, celeb ‘phoebe kates’. And it may be just a narrative device but in s2 Max lies about mormons at the door, the season before she appears.

And of course her song alludes to what’s happening in the narrative. “Make believe I'm everywhere Given in the light (demogorgan/ lonnie in shed) .dream a dream and what you see will be ( his nightmares based on his ‘memories’)/Rhymes that keep their secrets WILL unfold behind the clouds (mf on his clouds and lightning).And there upon a rainbow (Will/ his powers/ accepting his queer identity and healing) Is the answer to a never ending story.’

Similarly, Heather Holloway is most likely from Will’s mind (my guess an alter)-and her appearence is also based on Phoebe.  In the show , they reference ‘fast times’  where Phoebe wears a red bathing suit just like Heather. Billy also mimics phoebe by slow-mo walking in a red bathing suit to the same song phoebe did in the movie. 

After El and Max see the pic of Heather and her dad the lyric  ‘loving you is a sin’ plays. And she shows an aggression mostly to her father- with her mom she simply dr*gs her but for her father she hits him in the head with a bottle and gags him with a rag and ties him up and throws him in the trunk after she was similarly tied up and thrown in the trunk (unlike the mom who was in the back seat). Billy and Heather were the ones with the most focus during their possessions - and Will said the mf would target “another me” ( another Will). She is str*ngled in the shower and later drowned in a tub into a dark abyss screaming for help before merging with the mf.  Both susie and heather are names symbolizing flowers.Susie- means Lily. While Heather is  also a variety of small shrubs with pink or white flowers which commonly grow in rocky areas.Holloway is a topographic surname, which was given to a person who resided near a physical feature such as a hill, stream, or type of tree. Also her dad (Tom- means ‘twin’ which could be another DID hint.like Tammy Tompson along with their names being associated with the nature/woods where ab*se took place).

Possible npcs or  alters (BUT possibly just normal people from the real world) : 

Murray Bauman (possibly an npc or alter?)- Between seasons Joyce mentioned going to Chicago with Will for therapy- where murray is from. Similar to Will who has a ‘do not enter” sign . Murray  has a  “keep door closed”. Both are proficient with shotg*ns . Murray drinks and smokes a lot like Hopper/Lonnie. He makes up a story about how what happened to Barb being a chemical leak. And next season the possessed are consuming chemicals and the npc russians are experimenting with chemicals. Hopper lied in s1 about having a friend from the times- and in s2 Murray from the times magically appears. He says Jon is easier to read than Nancy and immediately pegs his issues with his dad. He references Wizard of Oz by saying “people don’t like looking behind the curtain” (in the movie what was behind the curtain was a wizard-Will). He also has cameras everywhere like the american npcs. Also, it’d be pretty funny if he was investigating crazy conspiracies like aliens but never realized he was a part of one all along.

Erica-Not on the inspo list but she could be like Buffy’s sis from buffy the vampire slayer. The memories of Buffy and her associates were altered, along with relevant records, so that they believed Dawn always existed as Buffy's sister. Dawn is, however, a real girl, Buffy's biological sister, and has real memories of her fictional childhood. Erica has rainbows/sunflowers in her room in s2 (connected to Terry). And Erica is a plant that means “HEATHER”.

what all these possible alters /npc’s generally have in common is unlike ‘natural people’ they all have names associated with hunting or the woods (because that’s where a lot of the ab*se most often took place). name meaning : becky - snare (a trap for catching birds or animals). Teressa-huntress. Dianne (Hopper’s ex wife) - is a roman goddess of hunting.  brenner- ‘someone who cleared forests by burning’. the blond women, Brenner worked with,  Fraizer-  “of the forrest men” (the male hunters who terrorized Will most likely). mayfield- open country (field) where madder (mæddre) grows', Hargrove-grove filled with rabbits" , Holland- wood land, Bruce (who was also possessed) - means WILLow lands .ives- yew wood (of tree) ,Bauman: comes from the German word "baum," or "boum" in Middle High and Old German, meaning "tree’. Bauman may have originally been a nickname for someone who lived by a tree. Holloway is a topographic surname, which was given to a person who resided near a physical feature such as a hill, stream, or type of tree. Suzie-  lily flower. Susan (Max’s mom)- means lily, lotus flower or rose.  Heather is also a variety of small shrubs with pink or white flowers which commonly grow in rocky areas.  Neil -cloud. Buckley- buck deer. Rhadaghast (Will’s castle byers password)- is a wizard who protects the forrest and it’s creatures.

or an association with fire/lightning/god: robin- bird of the God Thor , sara- married abraham who tried to k*ll his son for god, barabara- saint who’s ab*sive father tried to k*ll her for not believing in his religion- so he was electrocuted and lit on fire by god. Kali/El are names of gods

the main exceptions being Hopper an interject . Although Hop could be a bunny pun, he even references bunnies in s3. And Jim meaning to “supplant” /“suprecede” ( replace/take the place of a person or thing previously in authority or use) hints at him being an interject.And heather’s dad Tom (who was possessed means ‘twin’) like Robin’s crush  Tammy (’twin’) Thompson (’son of tom’) . And Marsha Holland (barb’s mom) & Martin Brenner both have first names meaning ‘war-like” (a hint at Lonnie being warlike, or being a vietnam vet perhaps?) 

Ok, guys that’s about it- I hope you enjoyed. :)

[cant-blink]

Half-Life, Ch. 6

Summary: Gigan tries to save Ghidorah’s life, and is rewarded for his efforts the only way the dragon knows how. Most of the chapter is clean but there is NSFW near the end; tis very important NSFW though so I’ll probably make a post detailing what happened if you wanna skip it.

-

Ghidorah is...

...

... dead?

No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening. They were supposed to be together for the rest of their immortal existence! Gigan did not spend decades of his life trying to claim this bastard only to have him dead immediately after their first date! This... This piece of shit dragon just had to have the last laugh, didn’t he?! What kind of bioweapon was this thing if he can get fucked to death?!

“Ghidorah, don’t you fuckin’ dare, you BIIIIIIIIITCH!!” he screeched directly into one of this asshole’s ears as loud as he possibly can. But it was no use. There was no response, not even a twitch. He lifted a blade up high, wanting to slash down and slice off those heads, give this bastard an injury WORTH dying over.

He barely stopped himself, already swinging his claw down and only just diverting its path to stab into the ground inches from those scales. 

Let’s not do anything rash here. He needed to calm down; getting pissed will not help him. Maybe, just maybe, it’s not too late to save him? But he needed to work fast. He remembered seeing how quickly Ghidorah healed his wounds when they left that tree-infested planet; that healing didn’t start until AFTER they left that world’s atmosphere. No reason to believe it won’t happen again; he just needed to get the hydra out of this damn space cloud.

He glanced up at the sky before using the blunt side of his blades to haul the dragon up from the ground. Ghidorah was surprisingly light, no doubt from how skinny he’s become. What even happened to cause that? Was it a side-effect of death, where the dragon’s body was starting to deteriorate? How far will it go? Until all that was left was dust? He didn’t want to know, actually...

Giving a grunt, he put Ghidorah’s necks over his shoulders, his arms around that golden body under those wings. Said wings were limp, draped over the ground, as was the rest of his body. But at least he hasn’t gone stiff with rigor mortis, and that gave the cyborg hope.

He leapt, the anti-gravity flight devices behind his shins activating at full-throttle. The purple haze was thick and disorientating, but his inner navigator kept him on course. 

Once he built up full-speed, he curled his tail under and around him and his mate, legs folding up. Head bowing. Blue energy escaped him and surrounded both him and Ghidorah before hardening into a giant diamond. Coordinates? His system would ask, and he would disregard it completely. Coordinates didn’t matter to him. He just needed to get out, on the shortest path possible.

Coordinates? His system persisted and he lets out an impatient growl. Just shut up and take him out of here! But it kept popping up into his mind, and he begrudgingly gave in. He searched his inner map for the closest point of exit, looked up its coordinates, and inserted it into his navigator. Finally, he was left in peace, as the diamond changed course to reach its desired destination.

Curled up comfortably in his transport pod, Gigan still held the dragon close to him. Those cold scales somehow felt even more chilling against his armor and skin, even taking into account that Ghidorah always felt akin to touching ice. It was probably just in his mind, but it didn’t help his fears. As far as he’s concerned, they couldn’t reach their destination fast enough. Thankfully, the diamond not only maintained the momentum he had built up, but its sleek form allowed it greater speed through the atmosphere. Most importantly, it allowed Ghidorah to stay in a kind of suspended animation, stabilizing whatever state he was in.

Gigan still didn’t know if Ghidorah was truly alive, but at least this would conserve whatever chance he had left to revive him.

-

It was his inner alarm that brought him out of dormancy, signaling that they were reaching the outskirts of the pink cloud of alcohol. Their destination. They made it. His visor brightened up, as he stirred into consciousness. He felt cold, unnaturally so, and it took him a moment to regain his vision clearly. He saw gold, nothing but gold, and pulled his face away from the dragon. He has been nuzzled up to his mate while he was asleep.

Although he knew suspended animation would do nothing to heal, it still disappointed him to find Ghidorah still torn and thin.

He looked up through the diamond’s transparent walls and saw the stars, and behind them was the cloud of dust they just escaped, many miles away. The diamond has slowed to a halt, floating weightlessly in the full embrace of the void. This distance should be good enough, right?

He can only hope so, as he dispersed the diamond into an explosion of blue energy, freeing him and his mate. 

He’s been holding on tight to Ghidorah for the entirety of the trip, and his muscles protested as he finally lets go of the dragon. His eye scanned those scales for any sign of healing. One second passed, then two, then five. Each one seeming to drag on for an eternity.

Nothing changed.

Ghidorah’s wounds weren’t stitching back together as they did when they left the tree-planet. The dragon didn’t move, or blink, or show any signs of life. His crests remained dull, without the slightest bit of a glow to them.

He felt his heart begin to sink, and the overwhelming feeling of anger and dismay began to overtake him. He... he was too late, wasn’t he?! No, this can’t be it. He refused to accept it! He spent so long lusting for this bastard, since the moment he first saw him back in Nebulan captivity! He’s put so much of his time and effort into trying to have this dragon as his own; nobody else was good enough! NOBODY!! And the thought of losing all of it... 

Like hell, this dragon was escaping him THIS easily!

Gigan doesn’t think. He still had no idea if Ghidorah had a heart, but he was willing to try just about anything at this point. He had nothing left to lose. He lifted a blade, his eye fastened on the dragon’s chest, and fired the pair of grappling hooks to stab into Ghidorah’s hide and flesh.

He’s never done this before, but it’s worth a shot.

Gathering whatever energy he could from his mechanical parts, he sent the electrical pulses through the cable and into Ghidorah’s flesh. The hydra’s body gave a jolt. 

Nothing.

Gritting his teeth, he sent another surge of energy, inwardly demanding whatever higher-power existed in this void to make his impromptu defibrillator work. Ghidorah’s body gave another jolt and Gigan waited a second before-

He saw it, the trickle of blood from the small cut he made earlier. Just for a second, before it healed over. So too did the rest of the wounds follow suit, the tears in the dragon’s wings mending themselves. Even the tails seem to plump themselves out, bit by bit. It was working!!

Gigan’s eye fastened on the hydra’s faces, watching all three for any sign of consciousness. Those crests have begun to glow again, a faint glow, but a glow nonetheless. This time, he didn’t care to be annoyed at how dim that shine was in his presence.

One set of the dragon’s eyes blinked, then another. Then the last one, before those heads slowly moved to look around. Gigan felt himself relax, relieved that his spur-of-the-moment idea actually worked. He reached out a claw and touched one of those wings. Ghidorah flinched before wincing and glaring down at the grappling hooks still lodged in his flesh.

Oh, right.

He moved his claw to wrap the cables around it before yanking on them, ripping the hooks from the dragon’s flesh. The hydra opened his mouths in a silent cry, droplets of blood floating from the wounds. Said wounds healed quickly, and Gigan retracted the grappling hooks to lock back beneath his claw. He looked at Ghidorah and saw all six eyes watching him. A smile grew on his beak and he moved to lean over the wyvern’s body and nuzzle against one of those snouts.

The dragon doesn’t pull away, and instead he felt him flick his tongue against his skin.

Gigan pulled his face away, startled by this sudden display. 

But the dragon appeared disorientated and confused, those tongues still flicking. Oh, it was no kiss like he assumed; it was just the dragon trying to get his scent. Did he even recognize him? Did he remember any of what happened? Was he aware that Gigan just saved his life? 

Going by the dazed look, probably not. The cyborg felt a proud smirk growing on his beak once more. He was definitely not going to let the dragon forget. He used one claw to tap on the prongs under the other, and brought a few sparks forth from it. He tapped the scales of the dragon’s chest before he returned to nuzzling. He was so certain that he was going to lose his partner, and the amount of pride he felt in the knowledge that he saved him was intense. If that didn’t earn the dragon’s respect, he didn’t know what would.

Even if he was the one that nearly killed him to begin with, but that’s neither here nor there...

He kept his face pressed to Ghidorah’s for a moment, his claw at the ready to hook around that neck should the dragon try to pull away. But he didn’t. Good. He ran his tongue over those lips before pulling back to point a claw towards the space cloud they just escaped from. More importantly, towards a nearby asteroid within said cloud. He turned and flew towards it, glancing back to see Ghidorah wasn’t following, still floating.

But after a moment, the dragon seemed to catch on and righted himself before following after him. That’s more he likes it and he led the way to the space rock.

Dust whipped up from the ground as he came in for a landing, and behind him, Ghidorah landed less than gracefully. Those legs were shaky, and it seemed to take the dragon a second to find his balance. Those wings were folded shut, and Gigan took all of this to be a sign that he was still out of it. 

Not that he blamed him; he never died, but he imagined it was quite a confusing experience to come back from. Speaking of which...

“So new order,” Gigan started with a grin on his beak, approaching the hydra with casual steps. “You’re not allowed to do that whole ‘dying’ thing again, got it?” There was humor in his voice, but Ghidorah didn’t seem to get it. That blank expression of his doesn’t change, not even into a sneer in contempt. Did he even hear the cyborg? Probably not, as the hydra looked up at the pink haze around them, then towards the direction they once came.

When Ghidorah finally did respond, it was in a soft voice. “You saved my life.”

“Heh, yeah,” he chuckled, feeling the sense of pride returning as he kept moving closer. “What, you thought I’d let you get away so easily? How about no?” 

A claw traced along where a wound used to be on Ghidorah’s chest. It all healed so perfectly, not even a scar was left. There was still a lot of blood coating those scales, though, and rather than tell Ghidorah to clean up, he took pleasure in doing the job himself. He knelt down a bit so he can begin licking the blood off, feeling the scales flinch at the contact. But the dragon doesn’t pull away.

“But you killed me.” the hydra muttered without venom, his voice still sounding soft and sleepy.

“I-.” Damn, he hated being called out on his mistake like that. “I didn’t mean to. I came back to check on you an-” He cuts himself off before lowering his voice. “I thought you would just heal it all off when we were done, but I guess you couldn’t. Sorry about that.” 

He didn’t understand why it was so hard to say that. He has parroted the ‘sorry’ word to Ghidorah for years, but it never seems to get any easier. Did he even mean it? Not really, he never did. It still hurt his pride to even pretend to humble himself. But if he can make the dragon believe it was real, that’s what made these apologies worth it. Because isn’t that what Ghidorah wanted from him all this time? A genuine apology? 

What ‘genuine’ even looked like to the dragon, he didn’t know. He remembered what happened in the moments leading to his finally having enough and taking control. He groveled on his knees and that was still not good enough. Ghidorah’s words of ‘never forgive’ echoed in his mind, but that was BEFORE he saved this hydra from death. Surely, as he felt the wyvern’s unwavering gaze fall on him, he would change his mind now.

Then again, this has got to be the most stubborn son-of-a-bitch he’s ever met.

Another breath escaped him, brushing against those scales before he continued cleaning off the blood for another silent moment. It was Ghidorah this time that broke the silence.

“You should’ve left me dead,” There was that hiss he was used to hearing. Seemed the dragon had made a recovery. Good to have him back in all his feistiness, even if he kept calling him out. “You already got what you wanted from me.”

Gigan lets out another breath, sharper than the last as a grin grew across his beak. He knew where the dragon was coming from; killing those that outlived their usefulness was something he did quite often and it seemed the dragon was fully aware of that. But this was not the same situation and he was going to make the hydra learn that. 

His voice got stronger, more confident in his words. “No, I didn’t. What I want is having you with me forever, not just a night like the rest. Y’know, like a proper mate... thing. So I messed up, that’s alright.” He looked up at the dragon, that grin turning into a smirk. He stood back to full height so he can press his beak into Ghidorah’s snout again. “We can work around this. I already have a few ideas we can try~.”

“As do I.” 

Gigan felt those cold scales against him, and felt the dragon lean against his beak. Well, this was different and the cyborg felt a spark of suspicion, but it was quickly smothered. He had nothing to worry about, because even if the dragon was trying something sneaky, the mind-control chip would keep him in line. If anything, a sense of curiosity overwhelmed the cyborg.

“Oh?” He lets out a snicker. “Do tell.”

“We’ve already talked enough,” Ghidorah growled. “Less talking, more doing.”

Just as Gigan was about to retort something witty, he felt the dragon’s forked tongue slide into his beak. His sails fanned open slightly in surprise, even moreso as Ghidorah’s other heads began running their own tongues over his neck. 

He took a step back, away from Ghidorah’s kiss, so he can let out a surprised chuckle. “Oh, ho! A bit frisky now, are we?” He locked his gaze to Ghidorah’s, who was narrowing his eyes at him. “What’s changed, babe?”

Admittedly, Gigan wasn’t used to having someone else make advances towards him, especially not like this. Where was it coming from? This dragon was dead just moments ago and now he was acting in a way Gigan has never seen from him before. He was up to something, but what? Was the dragon hoping to be killed again, as a means to escape him? Or maybe the dragon trying to show gratitude? Or was death a kink that he’d just unlocked?

He can dig that last one, actually...

Seemed it was the second one though, as the dragon ran that forked tongue along his mandible towards his cheek and ear. “You wanted forgiveness, didn’t you? So let me show it by giving you what you deserve.”

Oh, so this was to be his reward for saving this asshole’s life. A bit unconventional, but he wasn’t going to complain. Let’s have some fun then, and let Ghidorah take the reigns this time. See how much this wyvern really knows.

He leaned back in and his own tongue wrapped around Ghidorah’s, before sliding up to follow it back into the dragon’s mouth. He felt the hydra pushing against him, forcing him back so impatiently and he couldn’t keep in the snicker in his throat. He felt a rock against his tail; he was being backed into it and he does nothing to take control of this situation. His curiosity was still strong, as was his eagerness to learn just what this dragon was going to do to him. He’s never really let anyone dominate him like this, but for his mate, he can make an exception.

The dragon kept pushing against him, and getting the message, he sat himself comfortably on the stone behind him. He can feel one of the other heads moving lower onto his chest, whilst the other two heads began pushing him back further. Ghidorah wanted him to lay down, and he felt his mischievous side welling up. Flattening his sails, a smirk grew in his beak as he pulled away from their kiss. He doesn’t lay down, playfully resisting Ghidorah’s insistent pushing against him.

He met the middle head’s eyes, his smirk widening at the flash of annoyance in the glare he was given. But it was brief, before the middle head practically headbutts him in the chest to force him down. A laugh escaped his beak; damn, this wyvern wanted him so badly. He propped himself up on his elbows to see Ghidorah lowering his heads towards the cyborg’s tail. Oh, so that’s how far the dragon was willing to go? He was expecting his mate to climb onto him, but he supposed Ghidorah’s lack of an entrance meant it couldn’t go far taking that route. Technically it could, he just had to be creative again, but he’d rather not make those same mistakes.

Regardless, his eagerness increased as he recalled how it felt last time he penetrated those throats. Yeah, this was more than enough to tide him over, until he finds a way around Ghidorah’s lack of proper equipment. He felt a tongue flick out once, twice, searching him down there before locating the slit at the base of his tail. The dragon lets out a strange rumbling noise before dragging his tongue over his cloaca.

Gigan lets out a breath, his mandibles clicking against his beak to make a pleasured sound meant to encourage the dragon. Ghidorah doesn’t stop, intent on getting his tongue in there while the other two heads lifted back up to tend to his chest and throat.

The muscles in the base of his tail tightened, as his arousal started to grow. His breaths quicken slightly, resting his chin atop the head tending his throat. Nuzzling into that soft mane, he felt the urge to bite and he couldn’t resist it. He felt the dragon’s fur and flesh against his teeth and beak, and all three heads paused their administrations.

“Keep going.” the cyborg hissed through a mouthful of fluff and to his delight, the dragon not only complied, but doubled his efforts. He never realized before how sensitive the inside of his pocket was, and Ghidorah, however inexperienced he may be, was doing a great job pleasing him. Especially when he sees those massive wings, previously folded, fanning out fully. All that shimmering gold was overtaking his vision. Ghidorah really did notice how much he loved those sails of his and was going out of his way to make them even more erotic by vibrating them, making the light dance across those membranes beautifully. How can Gigan not reward such efforts by allowing the very tip of his member peek out.

At once, the dragon’s two free heads immediately gave it his full attention. 

“All of it.” Ghidorah growled softly.

Damn, so eager. It was difficult to resist taking the dragon’s throat right then and there. Gigan’s jaws tightened for a moment before letting go, his beak nestling against the dragon’s ear as he whispered softly.

“My name first, babe. Say it.”

He felt Ghidorah’s snout moving against his beak as he pulled back enough to make eye-contact. The corners of the dragon’s mouth twist into a smile, the first time he’s seen him smile at him. But something wasn’t right with that smile and it took him a second to realize what it was. It was less of a pleasant smile and more of a twisted smirk. Matching the hiss in the dragon’s voice as he whispered.

“Half-life.”

A frown grew on his beak, as his lust-filled mind slowly began to put the pieces together. He never got the chance to react properly, as he felt a terrible pain in his throat, shoving him back down into the rock. His claws shoot up to retaliate, but before he can even touch a scale, he felt another terrible pain.

In his groin.

The scream that escaped him was strangled as Ghidorah’s fangs sank into the tip of his member and forced the rest out. A second set of fangs bite into the base and then kept on pulling. Until, with a powerful tug, his entire member was viciously ripped out in a spray of silver blood.

His screech cuts out, choked on the sheer amount of pain coursing through him. His senses were unfocused, made worse when the jaws fastened into his throat fires a Gravity Beam into him. An explosion erupted from the blast and he’s released from the vice grip.

Still he cannot move, as sparks came from the wound in his neck and blood continuing to escape from his tail, his claws trembling. He heard and felt footsteps backing off from him, and it takes a moment for his vision to return to focus and he was able to gather himself enough to screech again.

Said screech would only fall on deaf ears.

He can see Ghidorah, his disembodied member between two of those jaws before he ripped it in half and dropped it onto the ground. He then made a point to stomp on it beneath a heavy foot. During all this, the third head kept a cruel glare locked on his subdued form.

He knew what just happened.

The whole thing was a trick.

The mind-control chip had de-activated.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Cyberpunk!HypMic

This is an extension of the cyberpunk outfits from this AU.

Originally, these outfits did not have their own universe to exist in - they were just made to fit a theme - but it just so happens HypMic already has a lot of the components required for cyberpunk...(but yikes, this is the densest AU - in terms of worldbuilding - I've had yet...)

TDD, MCD, Kuujaku Posse and NB existed in the past, but not in the context of the DRB - they were just groups of unlikely friends with differing reputations that retroactively came to be known under popular monikers and they ended up accepting those names over time. After WW3 and Chuohku's take over, technology rapidly advanced but society as a whole was wrecked.

As a reminder, the base outfit in this world is a silver body suit which only exposes the head, hands and feet, with black combat boots and a black belt.

In this world, this outfit is typically issued by Chuohku via people like Ramuda, although as you can tell by the outfits given in the magical boy AU, what you put on top of the base outfit can vary wildly. The boots and the belt can be swapped with something else without any trouble - the only thing that can get you into trouble with the authorities is ditching the suit. The body suit is able to purify polluted air within a short distance of itself, but only for the user.

All suit users have an accent colour, typically found on places like the top edge of the boots and on buttons, and the accents glow faintly in the dark. The colours have been adjusted slightly from the magical boy AU to create better glow effects.

...For the outfits that aren't specified, known from the magical boy AU or the same as canon in cases where the character does not rely on the suit, I'll leave them to your imagination, dear readers.

BB:

A team of brothers and odd jobs workers who navigate the digital and the real world to help those in need.

Ichiro: The owner of Odd Jobs Yamada. Prone to poking around with the latest in virtual reality, as well as illegal or semi-legal cybernetics. Resents Samatoki because he interferes with the Yamadas' business often enough to be a nuisance. Accent colour: Bright red.

Jiro: A delinquent and the more physical member of Odd Jobs Yamada (i.e. instead of trying to shut down bad guys using digital trickery, he's more likely to punch them instead). Was going to high school before circumstances shut schools down. Accent colour: Bright (royal) blue.

Saburo: A genius hacker. Was going to middle school before circumstances shut schools down. Accent colour: Bright yellow.

MTC:

An ad hoc crew who, in this world, have much weaker relationships than they do in canon.

Samatoki: A yakuza second-in-command, currently in possession of a strange black cybernetic glove which covers his right arm from the hand up to the elbow. The glove is able to control the air purification feature of the suits, so it's a particularly nasty bit of contraband. Resents Ichiro because Ichiro made a prototype of the glove and that was the last chance Samatoki had of convincing Nemu not to join Chuohku, but she joined them anyway. Also came into possession of an humanoid mecha, via Riou, which became the base of the new Yotsutsuji. Wears his TDD jacket over his shoulders. Accent colour: Indigo.

(Nemu: Currently with Chuohku to improve the world from within the government. Sent the completed glove to her brother because she knew he would keep it safe. Accent colour: Magenta (aka "Chuohku pink").)

Jyuto: A corrupt cop, currently investigating the glove in Samatoki's possession. More overworked than his canon counterpart...Even his trademark glasses have been digitised - they have a small antenna on the left side and can display information on the lenses when Jyuto gives them a mental signal (the display is in his accent colour). Accent colour: Maroon.

Riou: A former navyman who lives in nature, despite it being irreparably wrecked, and would rather not deal with the digital world, considering he's a cyborg (this is how he gets around not having the suit - he was experimented on in Chuohku's pursuit of creating a new supersoldier). Gave Samatoki an ancient industrial military-grade humanoid mecha which is about as tall as he (Samatoki) is.

FP:

Gentaro doesn't know Ramuda and Dice in this world.

Ramuda: A fashion designer who hands out government-mandated suits (for a small fee) while trying to ask out as many ladies as possible. Also sells other items to go with the suits, as would be expected of a typical fashion designer. His allegiance to Chuohku is a lot clearer in this world, but he's not a clone in this - just a normal human with hair dyed pink. Accent colour: Light orange (as per the magical boy AU).

Gentaro: A writer who makes his stories "real" via virtual reality and partnerships with others, such as Odd Jobs Yamada. Has material in some of his stories which he can use to blackmail Chuohku with. Hides his suit under traditional Japanese clothes. Accent colour: Bright purple.

Dice: Officially, he's a gambler who gambles with digital money and can't afford the suit. (Ramuda is not only something like a debt collector to him, he's also Dice's minder and enabler of sorts.) Unofficially, he's the son of Otome, the leader of Chuohku, who, when he was disowned by his family, lost access to the suits. As a result, he occasionally struggles to breathe and has to be helped by someone every so often. (Maybe if Hitoya or Jakurai met him in this world, Dice would be properly saved...?)

MTR:

Jakurai: A doctor, albeit one who prefers to use old-fashioned (that's "modern" to us) methods where possible. Chuohku believes gathering data from his brainwaves is necessary for the progress of developing new medical technology (or so they say...), so he wears a strange device which loops around the back half of his head and sits over his hair, attached to his head by two round (glowing) suction cups just above his ears. Wears his doctor's coat over the suit. Acts as Doppo and Hifumi's therapist and/or meditates in his spare time. Accent colour: Cyan.

Yotsutsuji: Currently in a coma after Chuohku's experiments for new supersoldiers. With the help of the former TDD, Jakurai has placed what could be salvaged of Yotsutsuji's consciousness into a humanoid mecha.

Hifumi: The no. 1 host of Fragrance. Uses virtual reality, projection mapping and other technologies to create entertainment for his clients. Afraid of women, but rather than his jacket, in this world he uses the same technology that aids him in his work to escape them. Accent colour: Neon green.

Doppo: A salaryman with appallingly low pay, no matter how hard he works, due to the fact technology is advanced enough in this world to give him a run for his money...He's lucky he has Jakurai and Hifumi to keep him sane... Accent colour: Teal.

DH:

Rei knows about Sasara and Rosho in this world, but they don't know about him.

Sasara: A comedian, currently under the heel of Chuohku. To this end, there are only certain kinds of jokes he's allowed to say while performing in public, although Sasara tries to get around this as much as he can when he can and secretly wishes to tear down the system with the former TDD + MCD so he can say what he likes again. Remotely communicates with Rosho via a visor and wears a leather jacket similar to Samatoki's TDD jacket in memory of MCD. Accent colour: Bright pink (as per the magical boy AU).

Rosho: A teacher, who lost his job when the school system broke down. He relies on Sasara to provide his basic necessities, but also takes occasional jobs to teach children in small groups or one-on-one, even teaching them comedy skills if he deems it necessary for them to survive in this wartorn world. Remotely communicates with Sasara via a display built into his glasses (which he otherwise wears purely for cosmetic reasons). Accent colour: Purple.

Rei: The creator of various technologies and creations prior to the war, most notably the ubiquitous suits. Currently gathering Jakurai's brainwave data for his own purposes. Has a strange relationship with the upper management of Chuohku, particularly Otome. Instead of sunglasses, he wears a (purely cosmetic) sniper's monocle over his left eye. Accent colour: Orange.

BAT:

Kuko: Back to being a delinquent, after people stopped believing in religion in exchange for technology. However, he still holds on to his beliefs, with the idea that one day, he can bring Buddhism back to a world that needs something to believe in. To this end, he uses virtual reality to recreate the pre-war world as he remembers it. Wears a teal happi coat over his suit and his prayer beads dangle out of his pocket. Accent colour: Mint green. Also known to commonly ditch the government-mandated suit for a particular respirator system created by Hitoya, which has a mess of wires going from the back of his head and going to either his neck or his shoulders (it looks similar to how the robot from the cover art of In My Mind's Axwell Mix has it) - this is due to the fact it looks intimidating and cool, yet it can be a pain to move around with at times.

Jyushi: A visual kei musician who enhances his shows with virtual reality, projection mapping and so on. People get confused when they involve Amanda "coming to life", but they roll with it anyway. Accent colour: Gold (essentially, a darker yellow than Saburo's).

Hitoya: A former lawyer, whose services are no longer needed now that the rules of society the law should operate in do not apply. This freed up his time to pursue his own interests, including creating portable respirator technology which Kuko and Jyushi try out for him (he does this with some help from some connections in the medical field, including Jakurai).

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel supplemental: The Ecumenes and the Gods

Roughly 250 years ago, the world was tightly-linked by teleportation magic. People could visit any city on the Jewel in the blink of an eye, and the idea of national borders was pretty meaningless. Instead, there were distributed, nonlocal governments that competed for citizens.

(If you've read any of Terra Ignota, you'd recognize the hive system.)

The death of teleportation magic has shattered the world into local polities with their own governments, but the six Ecumenes still hold varying sway over the population to varying degrees. Their individual law systems are still largely recognized by local governments, and their cultural impact is felt the world over.

The Ecumenes are, of course, churches of the gods. Below are their profiles, and overviews of their legal systems.

Eman, Windspinner, is the God of Freedom.

Eman is the Ecumene for those with no Ecumene- those who feel no need for the law to protect them, or can't stomach the restrictions of other gods. (Analogous to Blacklaws, in Terra Ignota.) No law will protect you if someone wants you dead, or tries to steal your things- but if you're a dyed-in-the-wool anarchist and believe in your own ability to navigate the world without an authority above you, the Ecumene of Eman will... do nothing whatsoever for you, because it's barely an organization. Typical adherents of Eman are either self-assured warriors, unrepentant violent criminals, or both.

Eman, the god, has a total commitment to autonomy and asks nothing of his worshippers. His clerics do, as is their ultimate inviolable commandment: whatever they want. Typically, though, the sort of person whose mind is similar enough to Eman's to be capable of channeling his divinity as a cleric... cares a lot about the freedom of others, and goes about trying to prevent other authorities from unlawfully enforcing laws on Emanites.

Andra, Veilpiercer, is the Deity of Understanding.

Andra is a pretty standard deity of wisdom and knowledge and all that- nothing unexpected there. They just want to know everything, and value learning new things!

The governance of the Ecumene of Understanding is very interested in empiricism. They want to know what the best form of government is, and do that, instead of picking one way of doing government and sticking with that no matter how badly it backfires. So they run experiments!

Under Andra, there's no such thing as a law that doesn't have an intended outcome, a standard for measuring whether it met that outcome, and a deadline to measure the outcome by or else repeal the law. As a result... the legal code is constantly changing based on heated arguments between politicians and armchair legal theorists (between which there is little distinction) over whether targets were met. And what this means is that the legal code is in constant flux, and you basically need to be a part-time lawyer to keep up with the laws governing you.

Making matters worse, teleportation and long-distance communication broke, and so geographically distant Andra polities now need to work harder to stay in sync. The Ecumene of Andra, therefore, is the major force behind the building of roads, and the sponsoring of adventurers who do the hard work of forging through the wilderness to deliver messages. They sponsor the Deathseekers' Guild, a brotherhood of monster hunters that take on the most dangerous prey they can find.

Typical adherents are academics, adventurers, and people who think they're smart enough to keep up.

Diamode, Fruitbearer, is the Goddess of Family.

Diamode has a plan for you! You go to school, obey your parents, graduate and get married, buy a house in the suburbs, have 2-3 children, care for them, retire, be cared for by them, and die. That's the plan. Their legal code encourages filial piety and conformity to this perfect way to live your life. Tax breaks for married couples, credits for having children- be fruitful and multiply! It's sort of the bastard child of Confucianism and protestant Christianity- it would absolutely be the most popular ecumene in the US, if that were how such things worked.

Typical adherents of Diamode are... there's only one typical adherent of Diamode, because the whole point is being the one way Diamode wants you to be.

Iska, Peakstrider, is the Goddess of Triumph.

Iska values self-improvement above all else- becoming Better, developing skills, climbing that ladder. There's no point to living if you're not trying to be the best at what you do! If it makes you stronger, it's the right thing to do!

Unsurprisingly, this is a popular goddess amongst warlords and merchants, who like having a divine mandate to enrich themselves at the expense of others. Iska only cares that you're winning- if someone else is losing, that's not her problem. They get whatever they deserved for being worse at whatever the conflict was about!

Iska's legal system is based on a sort of complicated virtue-ethical rubric. The winner of a legal dispute isn't the person who acted least criminally- the winner is whoever is the better person. And the criteria for who's "better" are set by people in power in the Ecumene of Triumph, which means "better" tends towards "more like the people in power", and "less like the enemies of the people in power". It's a fairly degenerate system, full of lots of infighting.

Ccorde, Skyholder, is the Goddess of Harmony.

Back when the gods were creating the world, Ccorde was responsible for keeping them all on the same page. She arbitrated disputes and authored compromises that would keep the gods on-task and creating something stable. She's... the reason the world isn't a Snarl, if you're familiar with OotS. She wants everyone to get along.

Everyone who's a god, anyway. She kinda likes it when people get along, but her number one priority is making sure people don't fuck up the world she worked so hard to broker. She has a lot of rules around how people are allowed to change and interact with nature, and she leans towards the hyperconservative with respect to the environment. She wants this world to be exactly the way it is, forever, and is annoyed by ways in which it changes.

Unlike most of the rest of the gods, Ccorde is fairly active in the management of her Ecumene. The rest have all moved on to the latest hot new world everyone's obsessed with, leaving Ccorde to conduct the busywork of keeping all their boring old worlds running smoothly. It's thankless and borderline futile work- big things like teleportation magic keep breaking, and she can't fix them on her own.

Typical adherents of Ccorde are druids, naturalists, and other hippies that love animals and being in tune with the environment and stuff. Ccorde's Ecumene is also one of the more competently-run bureaucracies around, and has a lot of non-ideological adherents despite its strict rules. Because the system works, dammit- without demanding as much from you as Diamode.

Karou, Heartlifter, is the God of Joy.

The Ecumene of Joy are hedonists. Hedonic utilitarians, to be precise. They eschew other considerations in favor of the basic observation that people ought to be happy and if your government doesn't help its people be happy then what the fuck is even the point of a government?

Implementing those principles, though, can be a bit of a mess. Working out complicated legal codes is boring and not fun, so their system for resolving legal disputes is "have a cleric of Karou personally evaluate what course of action would result in the most utility on net".

In the real world this would be a disaster- a system immediately captured by power-hungry narcissists who set themselves up as the people who decide what course of action is best. Luckily for the Ecumene of Joy, they have a pretty decent selection process for their leaders.

See, in order to be a cleric of any god in this world, you need to fulfill a specific requirement. What a cleric actually does is channel divinity, see. The gods are busy people! They don't have time to personally investigate each and every little issue their clerics bother them with. They're just people, ultimately- they don't have the spare brainpower. So they have to borrow brainpower- specifically from people who are, cognitively, near-identical to themselves. The more like a god you are, the more easily that god can borrow your brainpower and instantiate themselves on your hardware. Casting divine magic, in this setting, is literally becoming your god for a little while in order to do something your god wants done. That's what it takes to be a cleric!

Since you can't cast divine magic without being totally in sync with your god, you can't be a power-hungry selfish bastard and also be a cleric of Joy- because Karou isn't a power-hungry selfish bastard. He's the god of hedonic utilitarianism, and will make a good-faith effort to resolve a dispute happily every time.

(It doesn't always work, though, since Karou is not the God of Being Correct About Predicted Consequences All The Time, and clerical error is always a source of difficulty for the Ecumene.)

Other Gods

The six Ecumenes are the only organized god-worshipping organizations that run governments, but there are loads of other gods- they just don't involve themselves in legislation. It's fairly common for someone to belong to a particular Ecumene just for the government, but worship one or more other gods as a matter of personal faith.

Alanala, Waveracer, for instance, is the Deity of Tides, with dominion over the surface of the waters. They're commonly worshipped by sailors, for obvious reasons- and in particular, the Lastwave clan that controls Oyashio.

Lolth is a classic- Webstretcher, Goddess of Spiders, is worshipped by the drow. She's known for dark rituals and cannibalism and other evil type things. (The drow diaspora regards these as hateful rumors, and insist that Lolth is a benevolent figure who promotes togetherness. The consensus among right and proper elves is that this is a smokescreen and that the blood libel is super true. Hrm.)

And... ?????? ? What's this symbol? It's on the bracer that's bonded to Saelhen, but it doesn't represent any god Looseleaf's ever heard of. Maybe not all the gods show themselves to the people...

[agent-cupcake]

Dimitri and mental illness

**Warnings for Blue Lions spoilers and armchair psychology

Depending on who you ask, Dimitri is an innocent sweetheart whose actions are entirely excusable and justified or an unforgivable war criminal and overall terrible character. Arguments for both sides have been exhausted, usually in the form of the popular Edelgard versus Dimitri debate, but I feel that both statements are heavily flawed and, truthfully, I think I take more issue with the former. Does it strike anyone else as rather patronizing that the audience (and the game, to an extent) treats Dimitri like an innocent, broken uwu soft boy both before the time skip and once he begins his recovery arc? Of course, a lot of this can be blamed on the awful pacing and poor writing of said recovery (which is the most valid structural critique of his character imo), but there’s a lot to be said about the fan depiction of Dimitri and the way people treat his mental illness. I think the reason this gets me is because I see it as an extension of the problems I have with the romanticization of male-specific mental illness. In this case, “all depressed boys are emasculated, soft, sad bois” and “anger is an accessory that is vanished once the cute boy takes it off” with the related sentiment of “the only two real mental illnesses are depression and anxiety, with a splash of PTSD for argument's sake”. And, speaking of arguments, while many people bring up mental illness in regards to the discussion around Three Houses characters, it is often supplementary to support their points rather than the main point unto itself. Dimitri’s mental illness (aka, the thing his entire arc is predicated upon) is mostly given only a passing recognition in the discussion of his actions. Even then, it’s often used as a justification to defend or lambaste him.

TL;DR Dimitri is a flawed person with a debilitating and incredibly well written mental illness that, while not excusing his actions, allows for further exploration of his character and a well-deserved shot at a recovery arc that is not usually awarded to people with the “non-traditional” mental illnesses. Furthermore, the game offers a wealth of insight as to what they intended his mental illness to be, the symptoms that manifested, and a plausible background to match up with it all and I have the receipts to prove it. Let’s go~

“Me? Oh. Um. Please forgive me... It's difficult to open up on the spot, don't you think? I'm afraid my story has not been a pleasant one... I do hope that doesn't color your view of me, but I understand if that can't be helped.”

I know that mental illness can be singularly caused by a traumatic event or events. That is, generally, how I see people framing Dimitri’s mental illness. My argument, however, is that the Tragedy of Duscur was not the genesis, but the trigger for issues that would exist otherwise. Perhaps it’s due to my own personal experience with mental illness, but I’m almost always more inclined to believe that issues stem from an unlucky combination of many things. 

Regardless, my evidence to entertain the idea that he would be naturally predisposed to mental illness is slim. Aside from arguing that it wouldn’t be out of the question for his mother to have been unwell while she was pregnant with him considering she would later die of plague (a cause that in and of itself is subject to skepticism), I would bring up his Crest. In-game there is clear proof that Crests have wide-reaching effects on the person, there are actually a few analysis posts that hypothesize that Crests could be the reason for certain character motivations. In ng+, the Crest of Blaiddyd is called the Grim Dragon Sign. There’s no definitive proof to point to here, but if his Crest was one of the reasons for his mental deterioration it would follow other rules set in-game. Rather than inherited human genetics creating the blueprint for mental issues and the writers having to face that issue on its own terms, it was the Crest’s influence. This goes along with the fact that the game never overtly references Dimitri’s illness, essentially using “the dead” as a blanket symptom of his problems. Both these things are cool ways to imply a possible way to read more deeply without having to use anachronistic medical terms.

Side note: There’s something uncomfortable about the idea of a Crest that gives the individual inhuman strength and mental issues. Grim Dragon indeed.

My next point is one that I don’t see being brought up too often in regards to how it might have affected Dimitri, likely because the events that came later in his life far overshadow it, but Dimitri lost his mom when he was young. The date is not given, but I think it’d be when he was about six-ish. Admittedly, the timeline is strange and non-specific around here but if that were true, it would mean that the plague, Dimitri’s mother’s death, and Lambert and Rodrigue’s war campaign to subjugate the southern half of Sreng would all have happened around the same time. Dimitri says he doesn’t remember it, but that doesn’t necessarily matter. At six years old he had lost one parent and the other one left him to go on a battle march, leaving this child without any sort of parent figure to console him in a country that is culturally opposed to expressing emotion. Lambert will probably always remain a mystery, but I think it could be fair to say he was a poor father. Or at the very least a distant one. Dimitri was undoubtedly a sensitive child (if we’re to judge by the sensitive person he grew up to be) and during the years where he was actually becoming old enough to remember, he had nobody to teach him how to properly navigate and manage his emotions. Emotional neglect in a child who is predisposed to being emotional and empathetic can leave them suffering from a sense of isolation, an inability to ask for help, and a predisposition to having break downs as they get older.

But three-ish years later, possibly one of the best things that ever would happen to Dimitri came to pass and Lambert married Patricia. Dimitri adored her. 

“I share no blood with my stepmother, but to hear you say that... It pleases me greatly. She was the one who raised me. I suppose it makes sense that we would share certain mannerisms.” (Dimitri’s B support with Hapi)

I don’t think Dimitri’s feelings about Patricia can be overstated, as I feel it’s one of the most defining aspects of his reactions to things that happen later on. Dimitri talks about Patricia more lovingly than he talks about Lambert. She was in his life for around four to five years but had such an impact on him that even his mannerisms are similar. 

Soon after, a ten-year-old Dimitri made his first friend that wasn’t knightly, who didn’t embody those Faerghus ideals of stifling emotions and swinging swords.

People point out the Faerghus crew as Dimitri’s best friends, and yet Edelgard is the one associated with his best memories. It’s just my own assumptions, but I think that it’s because both Edelgard and Patricia gave Dimitri space to be an emotional child, to not have to be the knightly prince who had no emotions and engaged only in the most masculine of activities. And, I mean, look at them. He’s learning to dance and she’s bossing him around, absolutely no regard for propriety.  

It’s pretty clear that Dimitri doesn’t feel romantic feelings towards Edelgard in the academy phase, but I think it would be fair to say she was his first love when they were young. He essentially says this was the best year of his life and establishes Edelgard as someone very precious to him (as well as the daughter of one of the most precious people to him). Strong feelings beget strong feelings, do they not? 

Google says that eleven to fourteen is the general age of male puberty. It’s the time that kids begin to more fully define how they’re going to emotionally interact with people and the world at large. Meeting Edelgard was at the cusp of this period of Dimitri’s life, and the Tragedy of Duscur was right in the midst of it. 

And we all know what that turned out.

Dimitri’s accounts of what happened during the Tragedy are... conflicting. This CG of an unharmed Dimitri in a field of corpses is... conflicting.

“My father...was the strongest man I knew. Someone I loved and admired deeply. That said, he was killed before my eyes. His head severed clean off. My stepmother, the kindest person I had ever known, left me behind and disappeared into the infernal flames.”

I’ve seen people create a plausible scenario in which Dimitri’s recollection is entirely accurate, where he saw Lambert call for revenge and get beheaded, saw Glenn’s ruined body and face twisted in pain, saw his step-mother disappear into the flames, and all despite the raging chaos of the battle and how people would undoubtedly be targeting the prince, but I think it makes more sense that his memories are unreliable. Dimitri suffered a severe head injury (very important to keep in mind) at Duscur. Maybe that happened early on, after seeing who attacked Lambert but before he was an actual target himself, which merely made him look dead. Maybe he saw a version of the events he described, but through the filter of confused head trauma, smoke inhalation, and intense terror. To think that his recollection isn’t exactly entirely reliable sets a precedent for his later skewed take on reality. 

Regardless of opinion, though, the facts are that Dimitri left Duscur with a traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder. 

After that, from thirteen to seventeen, Dimitri was pretty isolated. Most of the people he cared about were dead. His entire emotional support system (Patricia) was gone. He saved Dedue (although they were definitely not on even terms, that relationship is unbalanced to the extreme) and occasionally saw Rodrigue (who I have no reason to believe was emotionally accommodating in any way considering the way he sees Dimitri as an extension of Lambert to his dying breath). Again, it’s strange. People act like Dimitri was super close friends with the Faerghus crew, that he was surrounded by people who loved him (although it is clear there is a lot of love there), but he never presents things in a way to imply that’s the case. In fact, he highlights his isolation:

“In Duscur, I lost my father, stepmother, and closest friends. I didn't have many allies at the castle after that. In truth, I had only Dedue for companionship.”... “I once had people I could confide in. Family, friends, instructors, even the royal soldiers. But they were all taken away from me four years ago.” (Dimitri’s C support with Byleth.)

Two years passed before the next time Dimitri saw his friends and it was a war campaign, putting down the rebellion in western Faerghus. Dimitri speaks about those battles from a place of deeply affected emotion, expressing empathy, pain, and disgust with his actions and the killing.

“I recall coming across a dead soldier's body. He was clutching a locket. Inside was a lock of golden hair. I don't know to whom it belonged. His wife, his daughter...mother, lover... I'll never know.... in that moment, I realized he was also a real person, just like the rest of us… Killing is part of the job, but even so... There are times when I'm chilled to the bone by the depravity of my own actions.” (Dimitri’s B Support with Byleth)

I love this support, honestly. It’s so very telling about the destructive quality of empathy. Although caring can be a good thing, it’s also arguably one of the most destructive of Dimitri’s qualities. His empathy is what presents him with situations he cannot accept, the thing that pushes him to disassociate from reality so he can be rid of it and fight without remorse like he was taught to do by his father and other soldiers. Dimitri is a man of extremes. Either total control or none, without any room for error. This dialogue is also the first time Dimitri brings up reconciling himself with reality and hints to the fact that he has been unable to do so. This is contrasted perfectly in this line from Felix,

“The way you suppressed that rebellion... It was ruthless slaughter and you loved every second. I remember the way you killed your victims. How you watched them suffer. And your face...that expression. All the world's evil packed into it...” (Dimitri’s C Support with Felix)

Dimitri doesn’t deny this. Just like all of the other terrible things Felix says, he takes it without protesting in an act of what I think is stilted contrition. Although, it’s not just in supports that Dimitri’s contrasting behavior is brought up. The Remire incident probably works as a good reference for what Felix saw all those years back.

This is the first time we see Dimitri’s darker side in full. The similarities in the situation to what is shown to have happened in the Tragedy of Duscur are interesting. The fire, the utter chaos, strange figures watching it all from above. This is another case of a perfect disaster. I wonder if his ultimate snap would have been so destructive if not for Remire.

Anyway, this draws parallels to his and Felix’s separate recall of the rebellion because later Dimitri apologizes.

“Professor... I...I'm sorry you saw that side of me in the village… When I saw the chaos and violence there...my mind just went completely dark.”

Dimitri is unreliable. A lack of control, a separation of self, and becoming consumed by a dark rage only to come to his senses later, full of shame and a sense of confusion about why. From my own experience, it’s not unnatural to come out of an episode like this without being able to explain what was happening and being baffled by your behavior. This firmly establishes Dimitri’s uncomfortably fast mood shifts in relation to his trauma from the Tragedy and confirms all of the warnings Felix had given. When Dimitri was faced with a reality he could not accept, he lost control of his emotions and his mental state shifted to adapt accordingly.

This is when I’d also like to note something interesting about how Dimitri discusses his trauma. He is very honest and open about his experiences, explaining exactly what happened to him to Byleth. However, he uses the truth to hide. In recounting the events of the Tragedy of Duscur, in talking about how his family died and saying how badly it hurt him, he does not make himself vulnerable. When he admits weakness, he does so in the past tense or apologetically, vowing to be stronger. “Stronger”, aka, he’ll be better in suppressing his emotions. 

“I always strive to keep my emotions at bay, but... Sometimes the darkness takes hold and...it's impossible to suppress. It just shows you how lacking I am... I have much to learn.”

Dimitri lies by using the truth, shoving down his feelings, and blaming himself rather than attempting to figure out how to handle his emotions. In his own words:

“Everyone has something that is unacceptable within them. I certainly do, and I'd wager you do as well. I wonder which is best, Professor... To cut away that which is unacceptable, or to find a way to accept it anyway...”

Good advice Dimitri. Might want to keep that in mind.

It is at this point is when I’m going to get into my personal thoughts and armchair psychiatry nonsense.

First off, when I mentioned earlier about “non-traditional” mental illness, I did not mean abnormal or rare. Although people mostly just point to Dimitri having PTSD (and depression) as the source of his issues, I’m going to use all of my above information to make the (decently common) argument that Dimitri is schizophrenic, which is, contrary to popular belief, not too unusual. I state that with the caveat that I understand that there’s a lot to be said about schizophrenia and the tumultuous relationship between mental health and fiction. However, now is not really the time to go into mental health politics and representation or the many lies spread about the illness so instead, I recommend that you read into the topic if you’re personally interested (This has some good information). 

At the very least be aware that this IS sensationalized.

That said, Dimitri does not, to my understanding using grossly simplified terms, meet the qualifications generally (very generally) used to diagnose schizophrenia through the majority of the White Clouds chapters. These qualifying symptoms include, but are not limited to, the duration of the psychotic episode, the concurrent presence of hallucinations and delusions, and a greatly lowered ability to keep up with basic quality-of-life tasks. You only see these symptoms in the final chapter of White Clouds and the first few of Azure Moon. This isn’t unusual, however, because schizophrenia manifesting fully in younger individuals is extremely uncommon, sometimes taking years to trigger during a person’s late teens. And since the diagnosis generally relies on the occurrence of a psychotic episode, it can be mistaken as other mood disorders. Actually, the idea of him having a mood disorder was one of the things that caught my eye originally. Prodromal symptoms such as depression, irritability, headaches, sleep disruption, and mood swings are common in bipolar disorder (and, of course, schizophrenia). 

Still, I don't deny that Dimitri has PTSD and depression, only that I don’t think PTSD is his main (or only) issue. In reality, PTSD and schizophrenia are closely tied. They share many symptoms, even the symptom of psychosis. There’s also evidence that those with genetic precedent to develop PTSD overlap with those at risk for schizophrenia, and that the nature of PTSD triggers can act as a severe stressor to aggravate a schizophrenic episode. 

(From here)

This falls into the realm of being uncertain where one ends the other begins, highlighting the lack of concrete understanding about schizophrenia and the dependency of diagnosis and treatment to rely entirely on the individual experience, but that’s not a conversation I’m actually qualified to have. 

The study that truly caught my eye and while researching for this was one called “Psychiatric disorders and traumatic brain injury”. As I mentioned, at some point during the Tragedy, Dimitri sustained severe head trauma. We know this because of his development of the rare inability to taste called ageusia. I was originally interested in following this narrative thread because, as you might know if you follow true crime cases, there are many murderers who recall having sustained a head injury as children. Not that Dimitri shares similar psychology to people that kill and eat their victim's feet... Although his body count is higher. Besides that, head trauma, in general, is known to be linked to mental illness and altering a person’s behavior. There is even a correlation between TBI (traumatic brain injury) and schizophrenia. 

From the study I linked above:

To put it more simply, patients in the study who had suffered TBI and developed schizophrenia reported that their most common symptoms were delusions of persecution, auditory hallucinations, and aggressive behaviors. The auditory hallucinations were often voices. Many of the subjects experienced psychotic episodes two or more years after the initial incident (although, as I mentioned, Dimitri’s age could also have something to do with the timing as children rarely have fully developed schizophrenic episodes). Furthermore, the behaviors classified as an absence of normal behaviors called “negative symptoms” (which include apathy and disordered speech) were rare in this testing group. 

Dimitri exclusively displays “positive” symptoms of schizophrenia (“positive” meaning the presence of symptoms such as hallucinations and delusions). He also clearly suffers from delusions of persecution in his belief that Edelgard is the sole instigator of Duscur and the war and that he immediately accuses Byleth of being an Imperial spy upon meeting them post time skip. I think it’s pretty fascinating how closely Dimitri’s symptoms follow the outline of the study, especially with the aggressive behaviors, as those aren’t actually very common in schizophrenics. 

In very, very simplistic terms, if I’m right and Dimitri was born with the genetic blueprint for schizophrenia/PTSD (through Crests, inheritance, or environmental causes) and later suffered severe head trauma in an event that also gave him PTSD in combination with his pre-existing parental issues and stilted emotional development, then this could definitely create the type of person who loses all sense of reality, can’t control his emotions, and is prone to episodes of murderous rage when being reminded of the trigger (however tangentially) of losing everything he loved.

However, I’ll add real quick that the study I mentioned should be taken with a grain of salt. 

I use it mainly because I thought the similarities were interesting and it shows that there was more thought put into Dimitri than maybe people appreciate.

This brings us to my final point; Some kind of twisted joke.

A major point I saw being made as proof of how terrible Dimitri is as a character was that he blamed Edelgard for the Tragedy of Duscur (a time where she would have been twelve). More accurately, he blamed her for everything that had happened and the thing is, I don’t disagree with that critique entirely. However, this is a case of him being a bad person, not a bad character. This might seem like an odd distinction, but I think it changes the scope of deserved criticism.  

As I’ve been trying so desperately to illustrate, Dimitri snapping wasn’t just because of Edelgard being revealed as the Flame Emperor. Rather, it was an unlucky combination of many things. His grasp and interpretation of reality were already hazy at best by the time she was unmasked, slowly falling apart as his prodromal symptoms worsened. Going into the fight, he believed the Flame Emperor to be responsible in whole or in part for the worst thing that had ever happened to him, guessed at Arundel’s involvement, had found (and lied about) the dagger, and was rapidly mentally deteriorating. While Dimitri suspected Edelgard’s involvement to some degree, he did his best to act like it wasn’t true.  

Dimitri didn’t want it to be true. To the extent that he was willing to lie to Byleth (and to himself) to avoid reality. He cared deeply about Edelgard. The best year of his life was spent with her, she was his first love, and she was the daughter of the step-mother he adored. Strong feelings beget strong feelings, do they not? This reveal confronted Dimitri with something that he could not accept, so his mind sidestepped the issue altogether. Delusion convinced him that all of the fears and worries he had beforehand were related, all into one larger delusion that Edelgard had sole responsibility. It’s not right and maybe not even excusable, but it falls in line with everything else.

Edelgard and Dimitri. Bound by some twisted fate but forever doomed to be separated, unable to understand the other’s chosen path. 

I do recognize the flaws of Dimitri’s character and arc. There are some pretty major flaws. I have parts of a post typed out about his shoddy recovery and how I’d fix it that, hopefully, one day will see the light of day as well as many complaints about the way the story is hindered by the need for flexibility to accommodate gameplay and a happy ending.

But, despite that, this has all been a very long-winded way of praising Dimitri’s writing. His mental illness has a surprising amount of depth and I loved studying it as intently as I did. I learned a lot about his character as well as about mental illness in general.

Ultimately, Dimitri is neither an innocent sweetheart whose actions are entirely excusable and justified or an unforgivable war criminal and overall terrible character. You can feel bad for his pain and his struggle with his illness and understand that as a reason for his actions, but you shouldn’t use it as justification. He had the opportunity to seek help before things got too bad. He was selfish with the mismanagement of his emotions and goals. However, he also was a victim. Dimitri worked to recover and mend the mistakes he made while he was unwell, which is a side of this mental illness that is rarely shown in media.  

I wholeheartedly believe that, love him or hate him, Dimitri is the most well-written of the Three Houses characters,

[commanderrivercc-3628]

One Hundred Sixty-Three Years

Words: 2.6k

Warning: some strong language

This was a short story I wrote a year ago. So, yeah... also this has nothing to do with Star Wars

There were eight people on the mission, which is normal as the transport shuttles are made to be large in size to transport more supplies and resources than people. When they were prepared to embark on the mission, the eight entered the large-sized shuttle and were put into one of the larger rooms in the shuttle. The engineers who created the shuttle called it the ‘Eclipse-Sleep Chamber’. Within this room, there were eight Eclipse-Sleep pods, and that’s where the eight stayed for the duration of their travels. Typical travel time is somewhere between one hundred fifty to three hundred days. The travelers weren’t told the exact number, but that’s roughly how long it takes to get to Mars, which is the mission: to transfer humans from the climate change ridden Earth to the new homeworld, Mars.

The shuttle was dark. The round lights that lined the halls were off to preserve power. An occasional window opened up the tight space, showing the empty void that waited outside. Doors led to more rooms and doorways to more halls.

One by one the Eclipse-Sleep pods began to awaken the person inside. The first person that woke up was Marcus. He stood in the center of the room, waiting to help the other eight people. In five minute intervals, the rest of the group began to wake up. Michael was the second to be brought out of Eclipse-Sleep by the automatic wake up system. Marcus stood next to the pod, arms crossed as Michael struggled to climb out. The two glared at each other as Michael left the room.

Chloe was the next to wake up. Marcus offered her a hand which she accepted. She stayed back to wait for the next person to wake up. She looked towards her shoes to avoid any eye contact with Marcus.

Another five minutes later Adam was pulled out of Eclipse-Sleep, grabbed Marcus’s hand for help, and nodded to Chloe as he walked out of the chamber. Adam was different from Marcus. That much you could tell just based on body language. While Marcus stood arms crossed and standoffish, Adam stood warm and inviting with great posture.

Chloe was still waiting with Marcus, not saying a word. Another pod opened revealing Sophia. At the sight of Sophia, Chloe rushed to her and helped her up. The two young women quickly left the room, leaving Marcus alone with the others still in the Eclipse-Sleep pods.

The next two to emerge from Eclipse-Sleep were Julia followed by Dean. The last sleeping crew member was a young woman. She had shoulder-length, curly auburn hair.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” Marcus sweetly stated.

The woman slowly opened her eyes to see who was talking to her. The chamber was bright… too bright. Her eyes adjusted quickly and soon was able to make out Marcus’ smirking face.

Judging by the look of him, he was older than she was. He had deep green eyes, a five o’clock shadow, and short, dusty brown hair that was beginning to grey on the sides.

“Don’t call me Sleeping Beauty, Marcus.” The young woman said, groaning. Her beautiful amber eyes seemed to sparkle.

“Look, Sweet Heart, it’s really not my fault you overslept.”  Marcus laughed as if it were Bobbi’s fault that her Eclipse-Sleep pod woke her up last.

“Don’t call me Sweet Heart either. Where are the others?” Bobbi asked, looking around to find the other six people on the mission.

There were four men, including Marcus, and three women other than Bobbi.

“Well, I’m guessing Michael went to the control room seeing as he’s technically the boss. And Julia probably went there too, since she’s the technology specialist. I’m gonna bet that Dean went to the med bay since he’s the medic. But I don’t know where everyone else went. Oh, and we are here, alone.” Marcus replied.

He winked at Bobbi after that last part. Bobbi rolled her eyes and began fussing with the restraints that fastened her in the pod. Marcus helped Bobbi pull herself out of the pod, which was situated in the wall like a small cave. The end of the pods stuck out with a glass dome that opened, allowing the person inside to get out

Just then, static sounded overhead as the speaker turned on.

“Everyone get to the control room. Now. We have a problem.” It was from Michael. There was a distinct hint of urgency and worry in his voice.

Bobbi and Marcus looked at each other and then took off running out of the chamber and down the hallway.

Dean and Adam were already in the control room, along with Julia and Michael, by the time Marcus and Bobbi arrived. Bobbi looked to each of her fellow crewmates. Michael was standing by a large chair which she identified to be the captain’s seat. Julia was standing to the right-hand side of the room by a large panel. Bobbi assumed this to be the diagnostic equipment. Adam stood opposite of Julia on the left-hand side by another large panel, which she concluded to be the navigation panel.

Sophia and Chloe arrived a few moments later.

“The travel logs,” Michael began. “They say we’ve been in space for 59533 days.”

Confusion washed over the crew’s faces. A few raised their eyebrows. Some put their hands over their mouths. Others just stood there. Chloe was the first to speak up.

“How is that possible?” Chloe asked.

“It shouldn’t be,” Michael stated.

“Well, that’s what it says,” Adam argued. “The navigation logs aren’t wrong.”

“There must be something wrong in the system then.” Bobbi began.

“There’s not.” Adam was now shouting. “No matter how many times you ask me to check the damn travel logs, it won’t change.”

By that time Sophia had walked over to Adam and placed her hand on his shoulder. He took a deep breath. Everyone look at each other, the looks of confusion now turning into concern.

“Yeah, look, I hate to point out the obvious,” Marcus stated, “but that’s not near Mars.”

“Jee, Marcus. That was so helpful.” Bobbi said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

Marcus scrunched up his face and stuck his tongue out.

“You’re thirty-nine years old. Act your age.” Bobbi said, her voice grew louder.

“Enough,” Michael yelled. “Adam, is there any way to convert that time to years?”

“Maybe.”

The room was silent. Everyone just looked around at each other. No one made a sound until Michael sighed.

“I’ve tried to recover the log files, but I can’t find anything.” He said.

“I could give it a try,” Julia said.

While Julia began typing very quickly to useful, Adam turned to speak.

“We’re about one hundred sixty-three years away from Earth.”

The room was dead silent again. Chloe turned to step out for a moment as tears filled her eyes. Sophia followed her sister out of the control room to comfort her. Marcus crossed his arms, shaking his head, and pinning his tongue between his back teeth causing his jaw to appear slightly crooked.

Julia had now turned around and pulled up a video. Seeing this Michael had called Sophia and Chloe back into the room.

“Wait, what is that?” Sophia asked.

“No idea,” Julia said. “But it’s dated back to before the launch.”

She looked back over her shoulder to the other. She played the video.

A man, probably about fifty years old, appeared on the screen. He was wearing a white lab coat and safety goggles on the top of his head. There was sweat on his brow, and he kept glancing over his shoulder.

“Isn’t that Dr. Gallagher?” Dean asked.  

“Yeah, it is,” Sophia said.

Dr. Gallagher was the head engineer and astronomer back on Earth. He actually designed the Eclipse-Sleep pods, allowing long-distance space travel without aging.

No one spoke as the video played.

“Hello.” The video Dr. Gallagher said. “No doubt by now the eight of you have discovered that you aren’t going to Mars. Recently, I discovered a planet in an unknown galaxy. I believe that it supports life.”

All jaws dropped. Eyes widened. Still, no one spoke. The video played on.

“Now I am aware that none of you were informed of the change in plans, but mission control wasn’t either. The board wouldn’t approve to send anyone to this new planet because it’s ‘too far away’. Ridiculous. Here we are, on a dying planet. And a perfectly good habitable planet is just about one hundred sixty-three years away from Earth. But I showed them. I sent you there anyway.” The doctor paused and took a deep breath. He mumbled something to himself and smiled creepily.

“I will be dead by the time you see this. But none of that matters because I was right. I was able to send you all to Planet 893RF. Now should you succeed and actually make it to the planet, the eight of you will be able to live out the rest of your lives on this new planet. Unfortunately, I was not able to bribe the fuel mechanics into giving you enough fuel to last a four hundred year journey. Meaning, you won’t be able to return to Earth or Mars. I wish all of you luck, and I hope you enjoy your new home. I will continue to try and get a sanctioned mission sent to Planet 893RF so that there will be more of you, however, I doubt it will happen.”

The video shut off. No one spoke. Tears filled the eyes of Julia, Chloe, and Dean.

“Damn it,” Dean screamed. Falling to his knees as the realization he’d never see his wife and daughter again set in.

Marcus’ hands balled into fists. The rest just stood, jaws dropped. The silence was eerie, in the light-filled room. After what felt like years, Bobbi spoke.

“So, we were basically sent on an unauthorized suicide mission to a planet that may, or may not be habitable. Did I get that right?”

“That’s exactly what happened,” Chloe said.

   “Shit,” Bobbi said.

“Guys…” Adam said. No one was listening, as Adam slowly made his way towards the large window in the control room.

“This new information doesn’t change the facts that we still have a mission to accomplish,” Michael stated.

Chloe, Julia, and Dean nodded in agreement as they wiped tears from their eyes. Dean stood up.

“What mission, Michael?” Marcus yelled. “We are over one hundred years past the mission. We don’t even know if people are still being sent to Mars.”

Bobbi and Sophia looked at each other then nodded, showing their agreement with Marcus. They stepped forward slightly to stand next to him. Chloe, Julia, and Dean then stepped closer to Michael.

“That doesn’t mean anything, Marcus.” Michael calmly replied, trying to refrain from becoming angry.

“Guys…” Adam said yet again, now standing next to the large window, staring off into space. There was still no one listening.

“What would the point even be to continue the mission? Everyone we’ve ever known is dead. And heading back to Mars would take another, what? One hundred sixty-three years?” He turned to look at Julia, who nodded in response to confirm his number. “How do you know we even have enough full to travel all the way back to the Milky Way?”

Michael didn’t say anything. He just stood expressionless. He only moved to glance towards Julia. Julia nodded in response and began to examine the various gauges and controls until finding the fuel gauge. She turned back around to look at Michael and shook her head.

“See,” Marcus said, motioning his hand towards Julia, who had just proved his point. Upon hearing this, Chloe walked past Michael to stand beside Bobbi and Sophia,  clearly now agreeing with Marcus over Michael.

“We have a new mission, don’t we?” Michael said, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly.

“There is no way in hell I’m going to do what that slimy son of a-”

“Guys,” Adam yelled, causing everyone to turn their heads in his direction. “Come look at this.”

The other seven made their way to the large window. Everyone’s jaw dropped when they look outside. There was a planet, it was Planet 893RF.

“It looks just like Earth, in a way,” Bobbi said.

The planet was primarily water, with some small islands of dense green scattered throughout the ocean. There was an occasional larger island, but the vast majority were smaller by comparison. Small bursts of clouds were scattered throughout the atmosphere.

“I feel like we are obligated to go down there at this point.” Adam calmly stated. Everyone slowly began to nod in response to Adam’s statement. Everyone, that is, except for Marcus.

“We can’t go down there.” He exclaimed.

“And why not?” Sophia asked, turning to look at Marcus while placing her hand on her hip.

“It’s suicide. We have no idea what, or maybe even who is down there.” Marcus replied, flinging his arm in the direction of the window, gesturing towards Planet 893RF.

   “That’s exactly why we should go down there. We need to explore and see if it’s actually a habitable planet.” Chloe rebutted.

   “If we go down there, Dr. Gallagher will have won. He ruined our lives. It’s his fault we’ll never see our families again.” Marcus expressed.

“Well then what do you propose, Marcus? Stay here on the shuttle?” Dean asked, stepping forward to be more engaged in the conversation.

“Maybe.” Marcus shrugged.

“We can’t stay on the shuttle.” Julia began, using her advanced knowledge of technology and the shuttle itself to get her point across. “The shuttle will eventually run out of fuel. At that point, life support will begin to fail, if not sooner.”

“Marcus, we have no other option but to go down onto the surface of the planet,” Bobbi said, placing her hand on Marcus’ shoulder while smiling at him sweetly.

“Wait. How do we even know if the atmosphere is breathable?” Michael questioned.

Marcus made a smug face and gestured towards Michael. Sophia and Chloe rolled their eyes. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger while shaking his head. Adam sighed.

“Once we get closer to the surface of the planet I can run an analysis of the planet’s atmosphere with shuttle’s diagnostic equipment,” Julia stated matter of factly.

“Ugh, fine,” Marcus said, giving up the argument knowing he wouldn’t win. “Now what do we do?”

“Go down to the surface of the planet, obviously,”  Sophia stated.

“I mean we’ll have to gather food stores and weapons to defend ourselves. None of that even matters if the atmosphere is toxic to us.” Bobbi rambled.

“Hold on.” Michael began. “Is everyone ready to go to the planet’s surface?”

Everyone nodded almost simultaneously, even Marcus, who still had his arms crossed.

“Alright then. It’s settled. Down to the planet we go.” Michael said, putting his hands on his hips.

He looked everyone over. They were strong and intelligent, some more than others, but nonetheless, still the best of the best.

The eight stood in a circle. No one moved. No one spoke. Despite deciding to make the venture to the surface of Planet 893RF, no one really knew what to do. They didn’t even know if they would be able to land the shuttle. They didn’t know what was to come, and what may be down there, but they all knew they could handle it. As long as they worked together, but the eight were on their own. That’s really what scared them.

[tunafishprincess]

Hunter Prince (Dark Medieval Fantasy AU fanfic).

Chapter 1: Darkness before Dawn  

Two households, both alike in dignity. (Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Prologue, Shakespeare)

The remains of the human army were scattered against the grounds of the small village. A particularly gruesome image if he ever saw one. 

Not for long, he thought with a grimace, as members of their forces crept in to take whatever scraps they could find. The sound of bones crunching and tendons popping nearly made him vomit on the spot. The pungent smell of the dead did not help matters. No doubt the entire place would be cleared before daybreak, the bellies of his countrymen filled and ready for the return march ahead. 

He adjusted the sword at his hip. It was too large for someone his size, stuck between man and troll, but he could use it well enough. Years of training had prepared him for this. 

His upper lip snagged his tusks. By the Void, he wished his teacher were here. Alas, Blinkous of Galadrigalia would not step anywhere near a battlefield of this sort. Too many bad memories and old wounds, he told the boy as he aided him into his armor. Though the troll knew all the ins and outs of swordplay, he refused to pick one up, preferring the company of books and his students to the glory of war and conquest so many of their kind revered. 

Alas, unlike his dear tutor his fate left him no room to avoid this type of work. It was times like these he wished he’d been born of another destiny, one where his status and birth didn’t determine his lot in life. 

Fog clung to the earth and sky, drenching the area in miserable dampness. Even within the chainmail and furs the biting cold snuck into his veins, burrowing inside like sparrows at the advent of winter. He shivered as another frigid wind tore through the lines of soldiers, so howling and fierce he almost believed it to be alive. Perhaps they were. More than once his mother spoke of the old gods. 

He wondered if the weather was indicative of their current mood. Out of respect, he whispered a small prayer. It was the least he could do. 

Half-frozen mud squished beneath his feet. As a child he heard wondrous tales about the Grand Canals of Arcadia, yet to see it in person left him rather disillusioned. Of course, by Spring this narrow, barren valley would be a rushing river, carrying the winter snows out towards the southern seas, but now it was little more than a makeshift border between these territories. 

His gaze rested on the town before him. Though he lacked the intellect of his mentor he understood well enough their reasons for this ‘visit.’ 

Dying embers rose from the makeshift chimney as the night’s frost glistened off the roofs and doors. As the troops searched the area for food, weapons and mead, he could not help but feel a tinge of sadness.

Humanity had slowly been encroaching on their lands due to the excess of ore and salt deposits, huge commodities in a kingdom that survived largely off of cattle and farmland. Twas no wonder that within a few years several new settlements had sprung up across the boundary, despite their warnings of retaliation.

But this was only supposed to be a skirmish. A scare tactic, nothing more. Instead, his father’s forces had massacred the entire population.

Crimson mixed with dirt and early morning frost. Here and there he saw them, those who fought thrown haphazardly across the mud and those who tried to flee huddled and died together in small piles. While tradition deemed the enemy warriors to be burned, the soldiers of this regimen did not adhere to such rules, taking what they liked however they pleased instead.

He opened his eyes and then closed them; it mattered not. His stomach lurched. 

A large hand covered his mouth.

It was not his own. 

He stilled. Seconds ticked by before the wielder bent down, gruffly remarking into his ear, “Do not sully our sire’s reputation, half-blood. Purge your conscious elsewhere. Tis no place for the battlefield, especially our own.”

A battlefield was it? He wanted to laugh but found no energy to do so. Instead, he swallowed back his emotions, tilting his head upwards to face the other. 

“I’ll do no such thing, brother.” He added softly, “I am a warrior.”

Bular shot him a doubtful glance. “Is that what your nursemaid tells you?”

He regarded the other in annoyance. While others would be cowed by his elder brother’s fearsome regalia (the blood-colored armor a stark contrast against the gloomy landscape), he held his head high, refusing to back down. 

“Blinkous is not my nursemaid. He knows more about tactics and battles than you ever will.”

“Tactics mean nothing in the heat of battle. It is brute strength that decides the victor, not fancy parlor tricks and maneuvers.”

“If that were true, you would have won the Battle of Killahead and the Battle of Glastonbury Tor,” he pointed out, tongue sharp and ready to cut. Eager to best his brother through the only medium he could, he continued, “Now, is there a particular reason you have graced me with your most honored presence? After all, we all know what a comforting elder brother you are.” Without thinking he ended his counter with a barb. “I almost wish her Highness were with us today to see what loving siblings we’ve become. Perhaps then she would allow you to return to court.”

Darkness swept over his brother’s features as pallor overtook his own. 

An insult like that would not go without reparations. Though Bular was his elder, there was no love lost between the two. Losing face in court had drastically damaged the other’s reputation and rising stardom amongst the ranks of their kingdom’s military. Their sire had seen to it that Bular had a legion to command, but he would never regain the powers he once wielded so long as he and the Queen continued to be on the outs.

The same Queen who bore him.

He scowled, eyes burning like bright coals in the night. “Mind your words. The next time you act so brazen I will not hesitate to remove one of your horns, shared blood or not.”

He nodded curtly. As loathe as he was to admit it, he should have stayed quiet. Had they been common Gumm-Gumms, only one of them would still be standing at such an affront. 

Bular leaned forward, claws tightening around his head as he spoke. “The Queen and her elk may choose to coddle you but I will not. It is I who am in charge here, not you. Your bearer can keep her impure minions in her so-called court for all I care.” His eyes narrowed. “From the look on your face, I can already tell I’ve wasted too much time in bothering to try and teach you. Know this, little brother: the only reason you stand here is at father’s request. Remember that.”

Without warning Bular yanked him by the hair at his nape so that he fell backward. His brother’s followers chuckled at the display.

How humiliating. Cheeks burning, he quickly returned to his feet, storming off in the opposite direction, lest he made more of an embarrassment of himself amongst his brother’s soldiers.

It was a familial power play and one Bular would always win. While he was faster than the older male he could not hope to match his brother’s brute strength and height.

No matter how smart or cunning he could try to be, he would always be half-flesh.

James, Son of House Lake, First of his Name, Heir to Two Thrones—it was an endless list of empty titles. Here, on the “battlefield” and in front of his father’s battalion, Bular and his army saw him as nothing more than a whelp playing soldier. 

A bitter sigh escaped his lips.

He was starting to wonder if they were right. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Death nipped at their heels. Her ally’s fatal injury didn’t help matters. He limped behind, holding the wound at his chest with his dominant hand while the other scrambled for purchase up the steep hilled terrain. 

The tall beautiful trees that greeted their arrival now sent a shiver down her spine, no longer so beautiful and majestic as she’d been led to believe. Stepping into the forest had robbed them of sense and direction, the burning village behind them their only indication of navigation. Not even a full moon could penetrate the dense canopy above them, which rustled and swayed like the sea.

These were not the lands of her brethren. She’d been born on Arcadian grounds, far inside the midlands where the capital stood. The forests there were colorful, evergreens and cedars that happily shaded the berry bushes she once plucked from as a child.

She knew she’d passed the boundaries but the look of the landscape. Here, the woodlands were dark, primal and contorted in manners she had never seen. No berry bush or fruit-bearing could ever hope to grow in harsh lands such as these.

Branches snagged at her cloak, threatening to impede her every step. 

Claire bit back a sob. It was all her fault. If only they had kept moving instead of resting for the night. But she had underestimated her enemies’ desperation. The assassin struck right as the armies across the border arrived, leaving them no time to regroup or find a healer.

Not that Sir Kanjigar could recover from such a wound. They’d been lucky he’d not petrified immediately, though she wondered if that would have been a better fate than the encroaching death before her. 

She clutched her chest as he finally keeled over.

“No, you must get up!” She said, joining his side. “We can still make it.”

Inwardly, she knew it was a fruitless endeavor, but the innocent young girl she was before all this still clung to the faint hope that everything would turn out well and good. 

“I’m afraid this is where our journey ends, milady,” he said, grunting as the poison worked its way through his system. “A thousand apologies.”

She shook her head. Wetness gathered at the corners of her eyes. Sir Kanjigar had been all she had left. She had left everything behind for this. 

Her hands clutched at his chest. “No, this is not where you shall spend your final breath, Sir,” she ordered, hoping she sounded as authoritative as her birthright.  Listen to me: you are the Trollhunter. You have survived countless battles. We will find a healer, but you must get up. Think of Trollmarket. Think of Draal. They would be lost without you. I would be lost without you.”

“It is not—"

“I will not allow you to die. I forbid it!”

She could barely stand to look him in the eyes. They both knew what was to come.

Her fist smacked against his cold ground, again and again, until at last, he spoke. 

“Milady,” he wheezed. “Enough.”

He lifted her chin with his remaining hand. It pained her to see him in such a state. 

Sir Kanjigar of Trollmarket was like no other. He was a battle-scarred old warrior, face etched with the centuries of service he’d provided both kingdoms. Countless Nuñez had relied on his aid and counsel throughout the years. It broke her heart to think she would be the last.  

“I cannot take you the rest of the way,” he stated, stroking her face like her father once did. “You must part with me. The longer you stay here the faster our pursuers can find you. My son…will live on. The Amulet will find a new champion; it always has. But you must hurry. Dawn will break soon. Our liaison lies a day’s journey to the north of the sunrise, just beyond this forest. Get there. You will know him when you see him. He will take you to safety.”

Her chest shook, body numb and unwieldy. “This isn’t fair. I can’t do this without you.”

“You must. The fate of your family and the kingdoms obligates you.”

The amulet began to blink. Slowly, he removed the device from his chest, the magic dissipating from his body. Her throat seized at the sight. The poison had spread throughout his upper and lower halves. 

“May the Grace of Daya guide you through the Void to your ancestors,” she recited as she took his last gift.

His lips perked up as his vision began to fade into white. “And…may the Mother guard you…for all your days.”

She nodded. She could not look away as he gave his last breaths, determined to stay by his side. 

It was in this small moment she allowed herself to grieve. Grieve for her family’s misfortune, grief for her inability to protect her kingdom and people, and grieve for the lives lost in order to get her this far. 

Her gaze flickered to the sky. His words proved true; dawn was coming. She didn’t have much time. 

“Goodbye dear friend,” she whispered, wiping her tears before setting off on her journey.

Her feet scurried across the cold forest floor. Leaves scattered in their wake. Now, without her protector, the forest took on a more sinister nature. The hairs on her neck prickled in dread as she traveled silently through these woods. Every sound made her heart lurch. Though she knew it merely her mind playing tricks, she could not help but think of the assassin, and whether or not he brought any others.

No, she could do this. Her fingers squeezed the amulet within the folds of her robes. The cold metal reminded her of what she must do.

Though her heart bled for the lives lost, she willed herself to go forward. Once she found a safe place she would properly mourn her fallen comrade. For now, however, she needed to move.

A sound intruded, wrestling her out of deep thought.

She didn’t even have time to scream when the creator of the noise came upon her. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

She squirmed within his grasp. Jim adjusted his hold. The human was petite, but her eyes held a ferocity that promised far more than what she could likely give.

“Unhand me, fiend!” She hissed.

Had it been any other day he would have. Humans were a strange sort. Though his mother imbodied their appearance, she was of another sort of being all together, born of magicks and a world no longer accessible to their kind. It was one of the reasons his sire took her hand after all. 

Amongst others. 

But today was different. Whereas before he had placed humanity out of his mind, now, after the carnage, an unsettling sensation of responsibility weighed down upon him. She had not caused this battle. Her only fault was being the wrong species in the wrong place. If Bular or one of his soldiers found her she would be carved up and eaten like the rest.

And Jim could not allow that to happen. 

Leaves crunched beneath unforgiving feet. The marching had begun. Quickly, he pulled her behind a thicket of gathered trees, hoping his scent would cover her own. 

“Please stay silent, miss,” he whispered. “They will hear you otherwise.”

Her body tensed at his words. Around them, the procession grew louder. Armor clinked together, held in rhythm to the vibrating beat of their drums and deep barking songs. He dare not translate the words to the human, knowing what revulsion they would bring. 

He could not help but examine her. The night was dark but his eyesight blessed him the vision before him. Dark windswept hair framed her heart-shaped face, highlighting the contours of her cheeks and rose-colored lips. While he had little experience with human ages, he guessed her to be near his own more or less.

His heart thumped wildly against his chest. This was the first time he had ever been so close to a maiden. He wanted to speak, to impress her with his knowledge of her native tongue, but instead kept quiet, desperately wishing not to embarrass himself in front of her. 

As the marching began to fade, he loosened his hold on her. It was only just. She quickly pulled away; he let her. A few tense seconds fast before she broke it with her words. 

“How could they?” she spat, fingers clenched around the sides of her cloak. “Honorless barbarians. They were only miners and their families and they slaughtered them.”

He lifted an eyebrow, realizing she knew not who or what he was.

He would have found it refreshing, if he wasn’t so overcome with guilt. 

“Can’t say I disagree at this point,” he mumbled, throat tightening at her remark. 

Was this what being a warrior was about? Jim bit the inside of his cheek. More than once he had sat at the foot of his sire, listening to the tales of old, when magic ran wild and honorable knights protected their kingdoms. Every battle had a story, a purpose, and an ending. Even the Battle of Killahead had its place in his father’s halls, sung to bring about nostalgic melancholy in those there and not there.

So where was the glory in murdering these innocents? How had a border skirmish broken out into slaughter?

It set him on edge. 

By the Void.  Jim shook his head. He could scarcely believe what had happened. This was his first excursion with the company and he hoped it his last. Being put in his brother’s battalion had been a foolish error on the head advisor’s part. Not that anyone could persuade the troll outside the king himself. Sir Dictatious was the complete opposite of his brother.

It was no wonder they hated each other. 

The girl continued to rant. “How dare they attack Arcadian soil. Do they want to start another war with the kingdoms?” Her voice grew hoarse. “Does the Treaty of Avalon mean nothing now?”

“A war would be most disagreeable for everything I should think,” he answered.

She blinked, cheeks reddening as she straightened out her linens to curtsy. 

“Excuse my manners. Thank you for your assistance. I am utmost in your debt. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

With whom indeed. Jim glanced at her outfit and features. This was no peasant, he gathered, but someone more highborn, though how much so he could not determine by sight alone. While her cloak was ratty and riddled with holes the cloth beneath was well-made, shielding her from the Darkland winds. She lacked the pockmarks and blemishes other humans tended to carry too. 

His eyes widened as he realized how quiet he had been. He coughed into his hand, head bobbing. “It’s Jim, milady.”

“Thank you, Jim. It’s good to know I’m not the only one who survived.”

He winced. She believed him human. He supposed, in the darkness, night-blindness would suggest it as such. While taller than most of their kind he was significantly shorter than a majority of trolls. 

“You’re traveling alone?” He asked. Perhaps he could return her to her group before she realized who he was.

She paused, shoulders shaking. “My companion…He didn’t make it.”

“My deepest apologies,” he said and he meant it sincerely. “Is there anything I can do? A lady such as yourself shouldn’t be out here alone. Where are you heading to? Perhaps I can lead you there.”

Already he formulated a plan to get her away, far from the Gumm-Gumms that still lingered in these forests. 

It would have worked, he could have gotten her as close to her destination before disappearing at daybreak, if something else hadn’t spoken up instead, breaking the fragile peace between them.

James of House Lake.

Instantly, he drew back, back ramrod straight at the power the voice possessed. It chilled him to the bone, clinging to his eardrums in a soft echoing whisper. He knew not where it came until the girl fished it from her robes. He thought it one of Blinky’s strange time devices until he noticed the pulsating blue magic that lay beneath its metallic parts.

“Did,” he began in a breathless manner, “Did that thing just say my name?”

Her brows furrowed. She held the circular object out plainly, squinting as she looked between it and himself. 

“But it’s never chosen…who are you?” She asked, pressing forward.

Jim accidentally backed into one of the trees, horns biting into the bark. A familiar scent was picked up through the air, coupled with equally familiar footfalls.

His breath caught in his throat. Through the blackness, he could see the figure approach.

A haphazard plan based on foolishness and Gumm-Gumm tradition arose within him. His cheeks burned at what he was about to do. He had hoped—no, that kind of life was not accessible to one such as he. 

He looked back to the girl, confusion, and fear spreading across her face. She did not deserve this fate he would bring her, but he could not bear to see her die this day. 

“I am so very very very sorry for what I am about to do,” he said, inwardly praying to the Void for his actions. 

He muffled her scream with his gloved hand, the other tilting her neck for access.

The taste of copper met his tongue and suddenly he understood why so many of his countrymen developed a taste for it.

It was over in an instant, but he knew, somehow, that he had changed both their futures.

Whether for better or for worse was yet to be determined.

The bushes rustled behind them, branches snapping as his elder brother strode onto the scene.

Carefully, Jim lifted his mouth, wiping the red from his lips with the back of his hand. The girl below him held the nape of her neck tenderly, eyes shooting daggers at him. 

Bular regarded the two with an unimpressed brow. “Father will be most displeased when he hears of this.”

“Salutations to you, brother,” he replied.

The girl shuddered within his grasp, now likely putting together the pieces of his identity. “What have you done?” She whispered, face alike to a corpse. 

The other balanced his broadsword on his shoulder, clearly taking pleasure in Jim’s act. “A messenger arrived from the castle. Our arrival is expected.” He looked the girl up and down, measuring her with a growing sneer. “If you wanted a bloody fleshbag for your intended you should have just asked. I’m sure one of my men could have found you one with more meat on her bones than this twig.”

“It seems our taste in wenches diverges. I quite like twigs.” Jim sent his brother a cold smile, refusing to react to his insult.

Bular sniffed, features smoothing over into disinterest as he set off back towards the legion. “Have it your way.”

Once his presence was gone, the girl collapsed, her shivering now full-blown shakes. 

“This is disastrous,” she cried.

Jim shared the sentiment and wanted to voice it, but thought better of it. Scooping her up into his arms (and ignoring her feeble protests), he began his march towards home, knowing that his actions would not go unpunished.

[dimancheetoile]

mud on our knees (we won’t wash it off)

Written for @shikasaku-week Day 2: mud on our knees

this is supposed to be a "what if". what if naruto isn't a great hokage. what is the clan system doesn't work. what if, instead of going to war with other shinobi nations, konoha turns against itself. what if there is a konoha civil war. you don't have to read this if you don't want to question your views of the naruto world. this world is six pages of being critical of the naruto world and i know it's not everyone's cup of tea. it's fine by me. read what makes you happy.

also there are a lot of real-life believes of mine in this, notably regarding raising children and my view of the nuclear family and the idea that in real life it's very common to have children from different relationships instead of one true love. again, you don't have to read. i'm a bit angry because i wanted to post this on time and it got out of hand and it's much longer and much more complicated than it should have been. so there's that. i hope you enjoy anyway, and the next one is almost finished so you should have it soon. tell me what you think!!

___________________

“GET DOWN!”

Sakura doesn't wait for an explanation, doesn't even stop to think as she crumbles to the ground, plastering her whole body against the sticky, wet earth. Cheek crushed against a puddle, the filthy water going in her nose and her eye, she frantically tries to look around her while moving as little as possible. The sight calms her down as much as it can ; all the other bodies, face down against the earth, all have red or pink hair, and the familiar pitch black body suit with the blood red arm patch, what should have been a white circle stained with dirt, blood, and shit.

Her own patch was ripped from her suit when she had lost her left arm, a week ago. Her cousin had sewn a new one on her left arm and sewn shut the sleeve of her left arm to protect her still tender stump. He didn't look at her with pity, or sadness. In his eyes was the same thing that still burns in hers, in the rest of their clan. Pure, unadulterated wrath, an unashamed blood rage and thirst for revenge. Her arm would be avenge, just like all the dead they had suffered. They're winning now. It's just a matter of time.

Once the last explosion is confirmed to be the last, Sakura gets up quickly, reuniting with the three other members of her squad. The four of them are the only shinobi of the Haruno Clan, so they had been named the de facto leaders with the approval of the Clan Head.

“What's our next move?” Hanako asks, brushing caked dirt from her hands. She's a chūnin, on a clear path to become a tokujo because of the dōjutsu she had developed, to the entire clan's surprise. It's nothing as strong as a sharingan or byakugan, but her iris-less, entirely grey eyes allow her short burst of speed that are so strong they look like teleportation.

“Kura and I are still working on the seal,” Nadamaru says, his arm curling around Sakura's waist. She presses without shame against her cousin, her head falling on his shoulder. Nadamaru and her are the two jōnin of their little squad, him having been in the Sabotage Unit since his promotion and her having joined the unit a few months before the beginning of the war.

“I'm taking Shikamaru with me and we're going to prepare the new set of traps. Did any of you finish the poisons we talked about?”

Both Sakura and Nadamaru nod, handing a leather bag to Mikata who takes it gratefully. He's the youngest of them all, having barely made chūnin when the war started. He's the best infiltrator of them all, his lithe body and small height ideal for stealth. Since the beginning of the conflict, he's been the one making sure the traps are all working, and scouting the enemy camps.

He's also incredibly smart, not that the three others aren't, but he's on par with the Nara, which makes him ideal to work with Shikamaru. They've been planning every move of the Haruno Clan, approved by the Clan Head and the other shinobi, but they're responsible for their most successful actions.

Sometimes, Sakura has to take a step back and remind herself why they're fighting. It's the bloodiest, most vicious conflict she's ever been on and she took on a goddess. She can't believe it's already been five years since they started fighting, and on the worst days, when she's seen too many people die on either side, she can't believe it's only been five years.

What had started as a new law passed by Naruto's Administration had turned into protests and countless strikes, which in turn had become an endless, single strike that went on for so many months Konoha had started to starve, and when winter had come, people were dying of cold, of injuries, because no one was working in the hospital anymore. It had been a grim time. So the government had passed a new law in a panic, stating that all the striking workers would be counted as traitors if they didn't come back to work.

That had been received as well as could be expected. Not only had the strikers not come back to work, but the civilians had decided to barricade the civilian district, building in one night a wall around it. Then they asked the civilian clans, the rich businessmen, the clans that had half-civilians and half-shinobi like the Haruno, for help. Not a single one of them refused. Suddenly, the civilian district was patrolled by hundred of shinobi, not a single civilian was outside of the wall, and they were self-sufficient since they accounted for all the workers in the village, from every single profession.

They had the land to grow food, the workshops to build whatever they needed, and all the healthcare personnel of the village to take car of them. So, in desperation, the Administration had ordered the shinobi force to march on the district. About a third of them refused to fight their brothers and sisters-in-arms and joined the civilian district to warn them of the incoming battle while feeding into their already respectable ranks.

What was left of the shinobi force was still deadly, and it accounted for some of the strongest and most respectable shinobi clans.

Konoha's first civil war was born.

In the last five years, the village had been turned into a battleground, each force having about half of the ground, buildings in the middle reduced to rubble with the dead piling up on each side. The civilian side had been trained intensely by the shinobi within them, each civilian clan taking on a specialisation of shinobi life.

The Haruno Clan is the Sabotage Unit, the small Hagoromo Clan had been trained as medics by Sakura and the hospital staff. The Tsuchigumo Clan is trained in Interrogation and Intel Gathering. The Yanagikage Clan, though the smallest of them all, is their Hostage Retrieval and Escort Unit. All small, or unknown clans, mostly composed of civilians who now have extensive knowledge in martial arts and shinobi training.

They were the healthiest side, because of the food and the medics and doctors, but the other side had the money to bring in food and medicine and even a few medics who kept leaving once they saw the horrors of the civil war and replaced by others.

And then there were the bigger clans. The most famous clans of the village, that everyone knew about, the Noble Clans who had been the pride of Konohagakure before this bloody civil war started. They didn't have a choice. They had to take sides.

Some never recovered from their choice.

Sakura hugs Mikata briefly, who is also a cousin of hers, and Hanako, technically her sister-in-law. When the war started, all three of her parents were killed in a raid that was meant as both a hit against her for her support of the civilian side, and against the Haruno, because as soon as the civil war spread to the entire village, the Hokage Tower had been swarmed by a suicide run from the civilian side and all records made public.

It was a good idea, because it allowed for clearer goals for their side and ammunition against the other. But it also meant that the Haruno kekkei-genkai, a State secret since Mito's marriage, was made public. The Uzumaki who were born with this particular gene were integrated within Konoha with the rest of the refugees from Uzushio, and to protect them from the backlash their kekkei-genkai would cause, they changed their name and became the Haruno Clan. And now their secret is out, and it caused assassin to come and kill her two mothers and her father, who were respectively the previous Clan Head, Clan Second and part of the Haruno Council.

In one night, she lost the three most important people in her life and the assassins' plan almost worked. She had been hit so hard by the three simultaneous losses that she had almost ended her own life in a fit of madness. Only Shikamaru's intervention had saved her life. Her aunt and uncle, twin siblings, had been named Clan Head and Clan Second in replacement, and herself became a Haruno councillor. As per Haruno tradition, she had been adopted by the first willing family, her great-cousin and his husband, and she became Nadamaru's sister, who was in turn married to Hanako.

She had always loved the sense of family her clan has, how you could just choose who you would live with, how children navigated homes like safe havens. The Haruno would either marry out of love and have children that they would keep, or they didn't feel it was the right time for them and have children anyway that would be raised by the community. And those who didn't marry young or didn't marry at all would be encouraged to have one night stands and have children for community raising as well.

That was how Sakura was born, from one of her aunts, though she didn't know which one, and didn't care. Her mother and father had a child who they gave to the community, and when they met her other mother years later, they decided they were ready to raise a child and adopted Sakura, who was seven at the time and completely happy to be cared for by the fifty parents of the Haruno Clan.

That's how it works, and she thinks it's brilliant and she doesn't understand how only the Haruno, what's left of the Uzumaki and the Hagomoro raise their children that way.

Thinking bitterly that those cultural differences were the reason the civil war even existed, she kisses Nadamaru's forehead before shunshining away towards the headquarters of the rebellion, where all the clans and families have a representative to coordinate their side's actions. She needs to get the pages newly translated from the records they stole from the Hokage Tower, hundreds of scrolls scavenged from Uzushio after its fall without ever warning the remaining Uzumaki of what is theirs by right.

They have a woman who specializes in studying dead and old languages, who is translating the scrolls painstakingly to give all the information on seals she can find to the two Haruno, who are crafting seal after seal in a hope to gain a clear advantage against the other side.

In the HQ, she finds a hive of activity, all clans mixed with one another in a constant buzz of intel and planning and headcounting. In the back of the room, there are desks aligned to face the organized chaos, where the representatives are sitting side by side, all working on different projects or talking between themselves.

Instead of going straight to the translator, Sakura makes a beeline for the desks, a smile already forming on her face. There are little signs in front of each desk, drawn by the children of the clans in adorable, wonky kanji and symbols. She doesn't even try to stop the swell of pride that she feels whenever she sees how many clans and families they gathered t their cause.

On the far left, the Hagamoro, then the Tsuchigomo, the chair empty since they managed to capture a Sarutobi and everyone from the clan is on deck to try and get as much out of him, as soon as possible. Next, the silk black hair and single white eye of Hyūga Neji. The Noble Clan had been a total surprise, one of the first to join the rebellion when it was only the Fuma Clan, Ichiraku family and Haruno Clan. He raises his head when he senses her coming, sending her a warm smile that she returns with pleasure.

Next to Neji, another empty chair because more often than not, he's in the training ground helping the weakest fighters, is Lee's desk. His clan is tiny, just him, an adopted Tenten, and the child Sakura and him had together after the Fourth War. They had a brief but incredibly loving relationship, that had healed them both in ways they hadn't expected, and a precious boy had been born from them. Takumi is seventeen now, a taijutsu master like his parents, ridiculously handsome with his long pink hair, always braided, and his lovely dark eyes.

After the empty chair, the Yanagikage elder, then Aburame Shibi. The tragedy of the Aburame Clan had been one of the great costs of the war. As one of the Noble Clan, and as of today, the last to defect the Administration side to join the rebellion, their choice had enraged fiercely all the remaining clans and family of the other side. When Shibi had announced his decision, the others had decided to prevent their defection. There had been a mass assassination, and only the few Aburame who had been on the other side of Konoha for negotiations had been spared. Shibi, Shino, Torune and their mother Kanbai are the only Aburame left.

The second tragedy, and arguably the worst, shows in the dark circles and empty eyes of Akimichi Okashi, Chōji's mother. When the Akimichi had tried to join the rebellion, the Yamanaka had stood against them, in a move that shocked both sides. Their battle had been bloody, ruthless, and tragic. Friends fighting friends, to the death. The Akimichi won. Barely. There are no Yamanaka left, and the Akimichi are half their original number. Chōji is a trainer, alongside Lee and others, and his mother leads the clan.

Next to Okashi, the Fuma Clan, the Ichiraku family, and finally, the Haruno Clan representative. Shikamaru is bent over a pile of paperwork, his pink hair falling over his eyes in an obviously annoying manner given the frustrated, repetitive movement of his fingers to try and put it behind his ear.

His black bodysuit clings to his broad shoulders in a way that makes Sakura's heart beat, the red Haruno patch proudly displayed on his arm. She ignores the ache of her own missing limb, and goes straight to her husband. Only after being a few metres from him does she notice the black strap around his torso, holding the sling that presses their youngest against his back. And playing under the desk, crafting a story of wooden toys and adventures, are their two other children.

She revels in the joy of seeing her family, safe and whole, despite the circumstances. With a flush on her cheeks and her grin matching the beat of her heart, she finally reaches the desk and leans against it.

“Hello, Haruno-sama,” she purrs, enjoying the adoring look Shikamaru gives her instantly, like nothing could make his day better than have her at his side.

“Hello, Haruno-sama,” he answers with unashamed fondness, his hand reaching for her. He brings her knuckles to his lips, kissing it twice in a way that still brings blood to her cheeks.

“I have important news for you. I haven't told anyone, because I made the call that you should hear it first.” Shikamaru is deadly serious, his eyes flashing white for a moment, the Haruno kekkei-genkai showing through his stoic facade.

She knows this game since childhood, so her hand squeezes his and she sends a burst of consciousness through their point of contact, her mind flashing in images through his to convey love and calm and what she talked about with her three clansmen. Her eyes shine a blinding white before turning back to green when the connection stops. Shikamaru nods once, before grabbing his file, ordering it without need in an obvious nervous gesture.

“Get it over with. If it's going to hurt me, I'll heal better with time and the soonest you tell me, the soonest I can deal with it. And if it's going to make me angry, well, delaying won't change that,” she chuckles, her attempt at humour falling flat when Shikamaru grimaces.

“Well, here goes.” He takes a deep breath. “In our last sabotage run, we planted bombs over the supply roads to cut their food chain. But what set off the bombs wasn't a food caravan, but a full escort and delegation for Suna. Apparently, after five years of trying to hide the war, they were getting desperate enough to ask for help. Which they won't get, since everyone is dead.”

“Anata,” Sakura says softly, the pet name rolling of her tongue more like a reproach. He nods again.

“Sasuke, Naruto and Kakashi were all in the delegation.”

Sakura freezes, her mind going numb. Suddenly, she can only hear white noise, the chaos of the headquarters thinning down to a bare hum. She sways on her feet, before the information slams into her like a battering ram. The noise comes back in a wave, crashing into her in a second strike.

“They're dead,” she whispers.

“They are. And when the sabotage team made a quick sweep of the scene for anything useful to scavenge and identify the bodies, they also found the prison's location. Five years, but it was so worth it.”

“Did they—?”

“Yes. Everyone. Sai was starved and probably tortured, he's in the Hagamono's care. And they got...” Shikamaru is chocked up suddenly, looking down at his desk. “They got my mom and seven Nara out.”

Sakura breathes deep, taking in everything, from the death of the people who ruined their life for so long and caused a civil war, to the retrieval of some of the most important people in Shikamaru's life. He's been a Haruno for five years now, having joined when they decided to adopt Yozora from the community raising. He did the ceremony, got the kekkei-genkai that turned his hair pink, like every Haruno child. He became Haruno Shikamaru of Clan Haruno, because he wanted to be a part of something and being a part of Sakura's clan made the most sense. At the time, he thought to be the only Nara left.

Sakura's heart feels full to bursting knowing he'll get some of his family back. Not that her and their children aren't his family, but she's so glad he'll get those eight Nara in his life again.

And she'll be able to see Sai again...

For the first time since hearing the news, a smile breaks out on her face, her eyes welling up with all the tears she didn't shed the last five years. Shikamaru is getting up from his desk, carefully avoiding Yozora and Sora next to his feet, before gathering her up in his arms.

“They're dead,” she whispers against his hair, heart wild and feeling like she can finally breathe.

“They are, love. They're dead.”

“Without them, the Uchiha and the Senju won't have any leaders, and they won't be able to rebuild the Hatake. We've basically won the war.”

“And don't forget that we can now tell our Uzumaki they can finally elect a proper Clan Head,” Shikamaru smiles, fierce and proud.

“They're going to be so happy,” she giggles.

Shikamaru's voice is soft. “Our cousins,” he states, like a fact of the universe that makes him unbearably happy.

“Kura? What's going on?”

They pull themselves apart, turning to look at the rest of Sakura's squad where they just entered the headquarters. Sakura grins wide, feeling like a God and a leader at the same time, her blood pumping through her veins like the sweetest confirmation of everything they stood for in the last five years.

“Sasuke, Naruto and Kakashi are dead,” she announces to her brother, sister-in-law and cousin, face illuminated with glee.

“You're kidding me,” Hanako whispers. “You're kidding me!”

“Yes!” Nadamaru grabs his wife by the shoulders and kisses her hard on the mouth, uncaring for her open, wide eyes. Mikata's shock is so sweet to see, and that's when Sakura and Shikamaru notice the people standing him one by one, getting closer to them.

The news is spreading like wildfire, all the people working in the headquarters passing the information along like water on a summer day, and more and more smiles and laughter and tears are appearing. The noise in the building reaches critical levels, and no one cares. They've practically won the war.

“We're going to be alright,” Shikamaru says, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and putting his chin on her shoulder.

“Yes we are,” she says softly as her children wander next to them, curious and happy.

[alkaliyogi]

WE ARE CURRENTLY IN HELLS PIT OF FIRE AND MISERY…

How did we get here?

2020 is shaping-up to be quite a year; we lost Kobe an important figure to sports yes, but more importantly a role model for black fathers and especially fathers to beautiful brown skinned girls. Now we have COVID, deaths, social distancing and possibly (and I shudder at this thought) mandatory vaccines in the near future.   

Many people lack the vitality and life-force energy required to participate in a democracy. This is not by accident. It was designed this way. 

There is a long history of manipulation of the human race at the hands of the 1% of the 1%- this is what I predict will happen on the other side of COVID;

Travel will become more of a nightmare than it already is. More abuse at the hands of underpaid/overworked security personnel and undignified body searches. I worked in aviation for over 10 years- if you still believe that Arab men flew those aircrafts into the Pentagon and World Trade Towers you are ignorant of the concept of protected air space. The planet’s only Superpower had comprehensive protected air space before, during and after the “attack” on America. Military and law enforcement of this great land long adopted the motto of “shoot first, ask questions later” long before Bin Laden was a spec in his father’s testicles. Besides, who spends more on their military and the protection of their own country than the world’s Superpower?

Already, we are subjected to unnecessary liquid restrictions- you can’t even bring a tub of hummus onboard with you...pause for reaction. If you choose to believe that restricting liquids has saved your life, I invite you to watch a lighthearted episode of “Adam Ruins Everything” where they covered ‘security theatre’ designed to provide you, the average citizen, with little more than a false sense of security.  And if you look at what constitutes a ‘potential terrorist’-it’s a pretty broad net covering how you wear your baseball cap all the way to facial hair grooming standards. Seems like legalized stereotyping, unless of course you’re a polished white male in corporate America.

But perhaps in the fight against mandatory vaccines- even the average white male may find himself in the trenches with us.

Will it be vaccines passports or vaccines with hardware implanted in our bodies? Will we eventually replace handheld passports for data stored in a fingerprint, retina or swab sample? Is that where we’re headed to already? Let’s keep things in perspective, shall we? Thousands of people died on September 11th. Millions more have died at the end of a gun- but the policy makers are very selective with what tragedies they will amplify and how they’ll pick and choose (based on their own agenda) when to introduce new bills or change laws. So even though innocent children die every single year in the greatest country on earth- purchased votes by the NRA (formerly the KKK) prevent amendments to the Second Amendment. Ain’t that something? An Amendment that can’t be amended. You’d think it was written by God and not men. Illusions of grandeur coupled with idolizing the forefathers of America is the exact opposite of being Christian, spiritual, a person of faith, etc. The is the same type of fandom associated with pre-adolescent girls and boy bands.   

An inside job designed to illicit fear of a common enemy (and weapons of mass destruction) became justification for us giving away many of our personal freedoms (i.e. fingerprints scans, eye retina scans, mass surveillance by our smart phones, email providers, search engines, CCTV, etc.). Does this sound familiar? It’s happened before and millions were executed as a result. Hitler wanted complete control of his people- unwavering compliance and that’s exactly where we are headed if The Gates Foundation and the WHO have anything to say about it. China is already practicing this type of population control with their face-recognition software and social behavioural grading system that assigns citizens a credit score that impacts your ability to navigate everything in your life from career, to housing to who and how one travel. Is this what we want? Who benefits? Not you, not I. 

There is growing evidence that COVID is a man-made (military controlled) virus. To many this may seem utterly ridiculous. I would invite you to research this information as discovered by numerous holistic doctors (who have been censored on Google but are searchable on Qwant, a reliable search engine free from the prying eyes of Google surveillance. If you’re wondering why the government would allow for something like a manufactured virus to be unleased on it’s on citizens let me help you. It begins with big pharma and ends with decreasing the human population.

As it stands today over 300,000 people have died- not from COVID but from underlying health issues. Like an episode of Black Mirror- doctors and health professionals are threatened if they don’t adhere to naming COVID as the cause of death. It doesn’t take a genius to observe that the overwhelming majority of people that contracted COVID recovered because they did not have underlying health issues. The Italian Parliament recently went viral for stating this. I’ll say it again, the COVID virus does not kill. Ask any self-respecting health professional/scientist that is not on the receiving end of grants issued by big pharma.  Even the CDC has been corrupted, pick-up a copy of Marcia Angell’s book; The Truth About the Drug Companies: How They Deceive Us and What to Do About It. Marcia Angell was the first woman to serve as Editor-In-Chief at The New England Journal of Medicine, the most influential science journal in the world. She’s done her part to warn us of how drug companies collude not for the benefit of the public, but for their own gain. History will show unequivocally that the real tragedy was not COVID- but the mandatory vaccines that have polluted our bodies for years with unsafe levels of heavy metals, formaldehyde, MSG and more to render your well enough to stay alive and on medications until you die. Newer vaccines will also render you sterile. That is the pandemic we’re headed towards.

Big pharma is greater and more powerful than any government on the planet. And what’s more, they’ve purchased almost every single politician there is to be purchased. In medicine, the first rule is ‘Do no harm’. In Aviation the first rule is ‘if we don’t know, we don’t go’. Thousands of people have had their lives permanently changed when their once healthy children were exposed to vaccines that left them autistic, some children have even died. Unless you can prove without a shadow of a doubt that vaccines are not harmful and toxic (which they have not proven) why do we agree to subject perfectly healthy, clean bodies to foreign matter? And no, vaccines did not eradicate polio- you can still catch that shit. The difference is more people have access to clean food and water today than ever before. As more and more countries develop, more of the planet’s population can practice better hygiene. Vaccines have cured nothing. Measles, malaria, hepatitis are still around!

Fun fact: the US government actually owns more patents of the measles virus than anyone else. Something to chew on.

Are we going to roll over and pretend that the supposed benefits of a vaccine for a non-lethal virus outweighs the damage is can have to the nervous system and reproductive functions of millions of people? We’re already dying a slow death with pollution in the air, water, food and soil we’re consuming. A great portion of the population is already unable to conceive naturally- which is your body’s way of telling you your currently too sick to create new life. So, what do we do? We employee fertility specialists to implant us with embryos instead of addressing the foundational causes and habits for our body’s rejection of bringing new life to our sick planet. 

The world’s population is nearing 8 billion- very few people have died during this pandemic relative to deaths associated to lung cancer, breast cancer, heart disease, medical drug overdoses, etc. It’s sad that we lost anyone. I live in Brooklyn, New York so I’m not removed from the collective loss we’re experiencing. Let’s also take a moment to step back and take a deep breath. This was never a reason to make us anxious, depressed and fearful of each other. This is how they separate and then conquer us.  And it’s certainly not a reason to change our way of living and give away more personal freedoms (that were fought and paid for).

I’m calling on citizens of the world. Stand-up! We are many in numbers- they are few. Don’t let them violate you or anyone else in a way that is not humane.

One last interesting fact to research- the United States Supreme Court or Congress (depending on which article you come across) that vaccines are ‘unavoidably unsafe’. And the kicker? If you or a loved one are damaged from a vaccine you can’t sue the vaccine manufacturers. How’s that for democracy?! Look it up for yourselves, but not on Google.

 Stay up!

Alkali Yogi

[elegant-etienne]

🍏🍉🍊

Fruity headcanon asks!

Apologies for the late reply @taetelli​ and thank you for the asks! I quite stupidly kept trying to answer this without a draft and would then accidentally close the tab, losing all of my answers more than once.

🍏  :    how stable is my muse’s physical health?  do they go for regular or semi-regular checkups by a physician?  do they have any diagnosed illnesses and / or take any medication?  how often do they get sick?

Etienne: is in pretty good health! They swim every morning and have gotten back into strength training. They see the healer as little as possible, even though they should know better. Over the years they’ve struggled with self-destructive urges, addiction and depression, which they call their ‘dark moods.’ Since going on hormone replacement therapy, those dark moods have lessened considerably - not that their mental illness is fixed by HRT by any means, but their baseline of absolute hating themselves, their body, etc., has been considerably lifted and they’re much happier.

Etienne severely damaged their aether pool casting black magic, essentially breaking through their considerable well of mana and pulling from their own life force in order to cast a blizzard spell. Since then, they’ve had trouble maintaining their body heat, have somewhat poor circulation, and in the past have had a slow healing time from injuries. Etienne assumes the injury has shortened their life and do any time they cast black magic - one of the myriad reasons they stopped adventuring was the very real possibility they would cast a spell that ultimately killed them.

Etienne is also at risk for a hereditary illness, but so far only experienced the symptom of occasional life sensitivity (but it’s fine, they have those cute pince-nez!)

Adi: suffers from a chronic hereditary illness. His symptoms include sensitivity to light which can be coupled with intense headaches, physical weakness and dangerously low stamina, and digestive issues coupled with frequent nausea. The dry air Thanalan irritates his delicate membranes and he gets nosebleeds and sometimes has coughing fits. Most of the sufferers of this illness die early which is preferable to the alternatives. He handles his illness with potions that help with nausea and have mildly restorative properties and an inhalant potion. He eats little snacks during the day any time he’s not feeling too sick to eat to maintain energy. He’s very food-oriented as a way to battle what could be seen as an apathy for life that also tends to couple with the illness. While he’s begun to occasionally eat dairy products (and eats honey and items made with east), he is a staunch vegetarian, partially out of a literal inability to do harm to other living things.

His organs and bones are a huge mess of scarring and tissue from constant, quick-healing, though aside from his scarred, mis-healed eye, he shows no external signs of what he’s been through. He’s surprisingly able to handle poisons and intoxicants, provided they’re things he’s encountered before, he treats himself with micro-dosing until he develops immunities “to better understand” the illnesses he treats.

Kadin: is the swoll dude who brags about how he never gets a cold. He has an iron stomach and can eat things regular people would probably die eating.

Houmei: suffers a compromised immune system, headaches and fatigue due to his physical and mental trauma. He suffers severe dissociative amnesia. He engages in extremely rigorous care of his skin, nails and scales, in order to try and fight his compulsion to pick and bite himself.

🍉  :    which of the four seasons suits my muse best,  and why?  

Eti: loves spring and autumn equally. They love the changes - both the living and dying - and has a deep fondness for their transitory natures, which they find spiritually inspiring. The bursting into life and the quiet surrendering into death and sleep are equally beautiful. Also, they have a slight preference for spring pastels over autumnal earth and jewel tones 

Adi: loves winter, but only in the Shroud, where it’s constantly cold, wet and rainy. He’s rather apathetic to seasons in general but prefers gray weather.

Kadin and Houmei: both love the activities, warmth, and foods of summer, but are wary about the fireworks.

🍊  :    does my muse desire romance?  is it something they would actively seek out,  or prefer to happen more  ‘  naturally?  ’  what is their love life like?  do they have any exes or past flings,  or crushes?  

Etienne: I feel like if someone asked Etienne this question right now they’d probably just sort of laugh and shrug? They just got out of a serious two-year-relationship with plans to marry, and before that they were in a toxic marriage. Ultimately, they’re not sure that those kind of committed relationships are right for them, and a lot of that comes down to what they feel are their obligations to someone they’re in a relationship with, and feeling trapped by monogamy.

They are pretty used to having other people pursue them, and in truth, are not quite sure what to do when they like someone. They make a lot of excuses for it, like the guy should always ask the lady out, but the truth is they are afraid to be super-open about their feelings. After all, if others are aware you want something, or someone, or the objection of your affection is aware of it, what’s to stop them from taking advantage of those feelings in the worst ways? It doesn’t really cross their mind that they could have something genuine if they risked being vulnerable with others. It’s too scary for them.

Besides, they have their pride. They don’t want to let someone else “win them over,” because that means they lost.

Basically:

Adi: has a boyfriend currently, Zihji’li. I think when it comes to his desires for romance and sex, he is still in very early stages of baby gay (“terrifying religious upbringing” model), while he’s not in total denial he still believes that it would be better if he were not gay, and that he does not deserve to feel good, be loved, or love anyone. Up until growing close to Zihji’li he would never allow himself to consider the possibility of even looking at another man twice, so he really doesn’t have any history with that sort of thing.

Kadin: has lived with his boyfriend for two or three years now! They started out as close friends, but Kadin always had a torch for him even when he was dating his ex. As far as previous relationships go, he’s had a lot of casual sex with men and women but has only dated other men seriously, although the last two guys he dated ghosted him - one of them actually ghosted him twice, and the second time really, really hurt. Considering people’s propensity for not taking him seriously or treating him like a priority, he’s not really interested in dealing with that crap from people! He’s down for casual flings with his boyfriend present, or if his boyfriend wants to have them on his own, but currently there’s no one whom he feels is worth the effort. He loves sex, but he’d rather stay at home with the dogs.

Houmei: has barely been able to leave the FC house until recently due to his level of fear of others. That doesn’t make for a lot of romantic possibilities! He does not have many clear, cohesive memories of his own personal life, just flashes of things, but he does have a sense he had two people who were precious to him in the past, and that bond was severed, and that he’s also taken lovers short-term now and then, people who’s names he might not even remember with a complete memory. Talk of feelings did not feature highly in any of his past relationships. He is somewhat interested in how romance is pursued in Eorzea ‘as an exercise,’ and I think he’s open to the idea, but a bit intimidated by the idea of navigating things when he feels he has little to offer. He has someone he likes but he’s taking it slow with them.

[officialtrashbin]

Follow Through

Rating: T (for a sexual innuendo with Corvus’ glaive) A continuation of First Meetings, in which Corvus and Proxima have a conversation that gets very out of hand very quickly. 

“Tell me, Devil—” Proxima boosted the crate of nuclear fusion cells and essential tools onto the platform, and the impact rattled the floor of the shuttle as if it were hollowed out. The reverberation shook Corvus’ feet. “Does it hurt to die?” she finished asking, watching his back; he was hunched over the control panel, trying to understand why the configurations were so stupidly misaligned with their readings, and his only response was a grunt acknowledging that she had opened her mouth and started talking. “I cannot, for the life of me, decide what reasoning compelled you to come work for Thanos, of all the galactic sociopaths you could have earned credits from.”

“My reasons are my own,” Corvus replied sharply.

They had been fixing the ship since it was almost shot to oblivion while hijacking supplies from a patrol fleet in Xandar’s occupied quadrant. Proxima and Maw flew together like clockwork and managed to navigate them back to Sanctuary before the shuttle’s engines gave up completely. The interior was, somehow, worse than the exterior; Proxima heard the acute thump of Supergiant applying a sheet of titanium to the hull, followed by the thick scent of welding metal, courtesy of Dwarf. Maw was preoccupied with delivering the reports to Thanos, leaving Midnight virtually isolated with Corvus Glaive.

“And,” he added, “of course it hurts. It means I’m alive.”

Proxima glanced at him. She considered the tone in his words, how it dropped its previous hints of irritation—not with her, surprisingly—and she perched on the crate, folding one leg over the other. “We are not in the business of dying peaceful deaths,” she said to him.

“I cannot stay dead.”

“I am more than fully aware, but the price of immortality is the inevitability of glaring weakness.”

Corvus turned his head to look back at her. His eyes glinted crimson in the shadow, and she felt a dangerously cold rush under the surface of her skin. Then, he twisted his whole body around, the black cloak billowing in his wake like an unfurled sail—he went to her, silently, not quickly. Proxima dug one hand into the lip of the crate, anticipating all of him to descend upon her, while the other went to the back of her utility belt and traced the handle of her pistol. It wouldn’t do her any good. Yet, she was compelled by the weight of it and the knowledge that, at the very minimum, she could get the upper hand by shooting out both of his kneecaps.

“Tell me then, Proxima Midnight,” he hissed, stopping a single pace out of her reach, “of this weakness.”

“If I told you that, I would no longer have the advantage.”

“That’s the point.” His mouth split open as he grinned, exposing rows of sharp, sharp teeth. It made her feel strange to be in the same room as him with nowhere else to go. “We are, as the saying goes, in the same boat, and an advantage against me is far from proper strategy.”

Proxima considered him like some puzzle piece, detached from the bigger picture. How out of place it looked against such a comprehensive canvas.

“Your glaive,” she said.

It hadn’t been a command, but he lowered it to her shoulder all the same and she ran her forefinger curiously over the edge of the aureate blade. Her touch was feather-light, studying the masterwork with her hand while maintaining eye contact. In the last few years of working together, she had never observed it so closely; Corvus seemed to tense as if the weapon reflected his own nervous system, when she traced the elegant langet to the very tip and applied just enough pressure to almost, almost rupture the thermal layer of her glove.

“To be nothing without it,” she said, “and to be bound to its omnipotence. You are quite the curious creature.”

Corvus didn’t withdraw his glaive; he was entranced by her motions. Proxima’s fingers glided down to the socket, where she curled her grasp around the neck of the polearm and coaxed the weapon from his hand. He allowed her to take it. To wield it like an uncovered artifact from a forgotten time in a long-ago place, fingertips sliding over the polished details and intricate design in wonder. His empty hands furled and unfurled in subconscious apprehension as she examined it. Whatever it was she was making him feel, it seemed to scour bone deep.

“Two weaknesses, I believe,” she said after a moment.

“Two?”

His throat sounded dry. She chalked that up to the suppression panels in the hull and told him, “Why, a formidable fighter such as yourself? You must certainly have a lover back on your home world, or wherever it is you were spawned from.”

Corvus rolled his shoulders. “I must confess…I have—I have never before considered feelings for anyone else. My brother is very much a romantic, and though I have contemplated the occasional possibility, I was unable to—” He hesitated, treading over the memory that haunted the back of his mind. “You will find that I am considered a devil on my home world, as well.”

Proxima’s finger fell still against the flat side of the blade. “You poor creature,” she said. From this distance, she could feel the warmth that radiated from him, as if there was an eternal fire burning in his chest. “Though I suppose it would be unfair of me to pity you when we are, as you said, in the same boat.”

“You are considered a devil by your own people?”

“I took no flames with me when I left,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Have I told you that on Andavaar, I am a princess, second-cousin to a long line of nobility? On my planet, freely courting is reserved for everyone else but our family. To court a noble was to go through the process of combat with a high fatality rate, to fight for a place in the bloodline.” Proxima dipped her thumb into the underside of the glaive’s neck and rubbed free a speck of dried ichor.

Corvus raised his brow. “How many died for your hand?”

She didn’t look at him when she said, “None, so far.”

Proxima grasped the throat of the polearm and thrust the glaive out. Corvus took it in one grip. With the other palm, he covered her hand, a touch so uncharacteristic to his violent personality that she startled and flicked her eyes up to his.

“You are quite beautiful, Proxima Midnight,” he said. “Curiously, the most beautiful being I have seen. It is…quite a shame that you have not been given a throne of corpses of those vying for your hand.”

Heat rushed to Proxima’s face; she stood, lightning quick, snapping her hand away from him. “You must learn when to hold your tongue, Devil.”

“I apologize, Lady Midnight, I did not mean to cross a line—”

“That is not what I—you mustn’t compliment me unless you plan on following through. It is only proper. Were you not listening to my story?”

“Oh.” He clutched his glaive with both hands. “Will you allow me, to follow through?”

Proxima’s fists balled up at her sides, and she turned away from him to take several steps towards the open rear of the shuttle. Instead of leaving, as Corvus might have suspected by her demeanor, she all but shouted, “How could I possibly allow—are you truly that dense? We have an important job to accomplish, and personal distractions—” She was starting to sound like Maw, stumbling over lame excuses while calculating the risks involved in physical diversion.

“A simple no will suffice,” Corvus said distantly.

Proxima reminded herself to turn back around and look at him. Though his irises flared in the bracket of shadow cast from his hood, his eyes were gentle when they befell her; it had been months since she last saw that glimmer of predatory delight. It reminded her of their proximity in the shuttle, close enough to touch—how they had been getting closer for the last year, his step by step motions, measuring the distance by word quantity and volume of blood he’d shed taking a blow meant for her. Closing the distance as a diligent predator would.

This time it wasn’t him who was hunting. She was the one coming closer, advancing on him with the barreling might of her stride. “You are dense, Corvus Glaive—infuriatingly so! I have seen you follow through on nothing but killing and being killed! How can you devote yourself to Thanos and allow him to end your life a hundred times yet compromise all of it with—”

“Because I deserve it,” he uttered. “I deserve what he does to me.”

She ground to a halt. In here, there was nothing stopping her from learning, as there was nothing to stop him from being exposed. The shadows were thin, made artificial by poor light coming in from everywhere. The length of them to the back ramp of the shuttle was cast marginally larger by their closeness.

“What we deserve is made possible by what we give,” she hissed to him. “All you’ve done is ask for permission to have. To be given to. Do you not understand what it is we do?” Corvus opened his jaw to respond but she seized the front of his cloak and drew him against her, wild fire burning bright behind limpid eyes. “I will not allow you to court me if you do not deserve it, so if this, if I, am what you truly want, then you need to grow a spine and prove that you deserve to be a part of it—the Order, the plan, us—”

“You would want a devil like me?” he asked, arcing his glaive around and slamming the blade through the floor. Another thing to fix when they weren’t occupied with the collateral damage between them.

“You have one chance to find out.”

It was the permission he needed. His hands grasped her, one on her cheek, the other her hip, claws threatening to pierce through the material of her suit; Proxima hadn’t considered whether she reflected his feelings but in the moment his lips pressed to hers she decided it didn’t matter right now. She needed this to know him. There was that discernible sharpness of his teeth as they kissed, the glowing heat that emanated from him and spread to her chest by proximity, a comfort that made her get closer, one arm around his waist and the other hand to the back of his neck to take him in. The wet sliding of their tongues and the pounding of her blood in her ears.

Then he was ravenous. She was pushed back and pushed back, first at an angle and then up against the wall between the rafters and the exposed arteries of wires they still had to fix, where the warmth of the engine lifted through the ventilation and was bounced inwards by thermal layers. She opened her mouth for his tongue, eyelids slid shut to focus on the sensation of him working on her, all primal instinct, it seemed. His clawed hands took her wrists from where she had her hands on his face and pinned them to either side of her head, their fingers intertwining. Heat pooled into the dip of her stomach.

The rush overwhelmed them so suddenly, so strongly that Proxima broke the kiss first to catch her breath; they were panting from the sheer exertion of it, of skin melding into skin. Corvus knocked his forehead against hers. His eyes were no longer hauntingly crimson, but a soft and burning gold that gave her the sensation of standing deep underground.

“Two weaknesses,” he said breathlessly.

Proxima titled her chin up and laughed.

[thedcdunce]

Donna Troy

“I'm Donna Troy, bitch.” - Donna Troy

Real Name: Donna Hinckley Stacy Troy

Aliases:

Wonder Girl

Darkstar

Goddess of the Moon

Wonder Woman

Troia

Princess Donna

Donna Prince

Gender: Female

Height: 5′ 9″

Weight: 140 lbs (64 kg)

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Black

Race: Amazon

Powers:

Divine Empowerment

Abilites:

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced)

Tactical Analysis

Swimming

Photography

Equipment:

Donna Troy's Lasso

Lasso of Persuasion

Bracelets of Submission

Troia Costume

Amazon Armor

Universe Orb

Darkstar Exo-Mantle

Amazonian Weapons

Donna Troy's Lasso

Lasso of Persuasion

Universe: 

Earth-One

New Earth

Base of Operations: New Cronus, 14218 Athena Drive

Citizenship: American

Origin: Magical clone of Wonder Woman

Marital Status: 

Widowed (Terry Long; husband)

Divorced (Coeus; husband)

Occupation:

Photographer

Guardian of the Universe Orb

First Appearance: The Brave and the Bold #60 (July, 1965)

Last Appearance: Justice League of America Vol 2 #60 (October, 2011)

Powers

Divine Empowerment: As a magical replicate of Diana, Donna possesses most of her powers. At various times she has lost and gained her powers, even abilities unique to her.

Accelerated Healing

Charisma: Donna has truth-coaxing powers like Diana; even without a Lasso of Truth people find it almost impossible to lie to her.

Flight: Donna can glide on wind currents for short periods of time.

Psychic Link: While Wonder Woman has a psychic rapport with animals, Donna has a psychic rapport with her. This allows one to feel the other's emotions, dreams and even thoughts.

Superhuman Agility

Superhuman Durability

Superhuman Reflexes

Superhuman Speed

Superhuman Stamina

Superhuman Strength

Abilities

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced): Like all Amazons, Donna is well trained to fight with various weapons and in the martial arts, and often practices with a kind of staff which seems to be her personal weapon of choice.

Archery

Weaponry

Tactical Analysis

Swimming: Donna is able to navigate through the depths of the oceans.

Photography: She has studied photography at New York University, and was a co-founder of Aurora Photo Studio.

Equipment

Donna Troy's Lasso: Donna's original golden lasso.

Lasso of Persuasion: Anyone who is held by the silver lasso of persuasion and with less will than Donna is compelled to do what she tell them to do.

Bracelets of Submission: Donna possesses a pair of bracelets that are common among Amazonian women. She is able to use these bracelets to deflect ranged attacks such as gunfire, missiles, and lasers. In close combat, Donna can use them to deflect punches, kicks, and melee weapons.

Troia Costume: A costume composed of various items gifted by the Titans of Myth, including an amulet of Cronus, a mystic net from Oceanus and Tethys, golden armor forged by the sun itself from Thiaand Hyperion, an earring of balance by Themis, a bracelet that used to belong to Phoebe, and from Criusand Mnemosyne a cloth from the starry firmament. This cloth became an important part of her later costumes, as it allowed her a map to everything, including New Cronus.

Amazon Armor: A heavy and ornate battle-armor much like her sister's, but made of a silver-colored metal.

Universe Orb: The Universe Orb is the repository of all knowledge and history of Universe.

Darkstar Exo-Mantle: As a member of the Darkstars, Donna wore the standard Darkstar Exo-Mantle as part of their group, granting her superhuman strength, speed, and agility. The exo-mantle also possessed a personal force field for protection against physical impact and energy attacks. The main weapons were twin maser units that fired energy blasts with pinpoint accuracy; however, it seems that Donna did not undergo the surgical procedure to attain the instant mastery of maser control that the other Darkstars had, and had a split-second delay in reaction time when wearing the less powerful deputy version of the exo-mantle. A powerful shoulder mounted cannon complemented the maser system of the Darkstars' exo-mantle. With the exo-mantle, one could achieve high speeds during flight, all the while protected from wind friction by the force field. Since leaving the Darkstars, Donna no longer possesses the exo-mantle. 

Amazonian Weapons

Donna Troy's Lasso

Lasso of Persuasion

Origin

Donna was created to be a playmate for the young Wonder Woman by the sorceress Magala, who used a magical mirror to create a duplicate of Diana, though with her own personality. She was abducted by Dark Angel who mistook her for the real Diana, and cursed her to experience a cycle of countless tragic lives, given the name Donna Troy as a cruel joke to her origins. But it would not be until the intervention of Wonder Woman, Hippolyta, and the Flash years later that she would learn this.

In one of the lives she ended up living, Donna was orphaned by her birth mother, Dorothy Hinckley, a dying unwed teen who had given her up for adoption. After Donna's adoptive father Carl Stacey was killed in a work-related accident, her adoptive mother Fay Stacey gave her up for adoption again, unable to raise the toddler because of mounting expenses. Donna remembered being rescued from a fire by the goddess Rhea who, being one of the mythological Titans, brought her to New Cronus and raised her as one of twelve Titan Seeds, orphans from various planets who would have died if Rhea had not saved them. Each one was given the name of a place that worshiped the Titans, and Donna was given the last name of Troy in homage to the ancient city. She was returned to Earth at age thirteen, where her memories of New Cronus were erased until such a time that she would return and take her place among the Seeds as gods.

Wonder Girl and Troia

When Donna experienced having superhuman powers and abilities, she adopted the identity of Wonder Girl. Donna became one of the founding members of the Teen Titans, even suggesting the name of the group from a residual memory.

She married Terry Long, a college professor, and soon became pregnant. This incited the Team Titans group from the future to confront her, claiming that her son would threaten the future as Lord Chaos. Donna voluntarily gave up her powers to prevent this. She later requested for her powers to be returned but was denied. She was inducted into the Darkstars and rejoined the Teen Titans as a Darkstar. Terry later divorced Donna citing that her superhero role put the family in danger and gained sole custody of their son. She turned to teammate Kyle Rayner for comfort, but left him after Terry, Robert and Jenny Long, were killed in a tragic car accident.

The tragedy caused Dark Angel to appear and make Donna start anew with a totally different life, causing everyone but Hippolyta and Wally West to forget her existence as the Donna Troy who became Wonder Girl and Troia. Together with Wonder Woman, Hippolyta and Wally helped restore the life of Donna Troy, breaking her out of the curse that Dark Angel had bound her to. She was then adopted as a daughter of Hippolyta. Consequently, Hippolyta decreed that Donna, as her daughter, would be granted the privilege of a royal station and a title. As such, a coronation was held and Donna was thereafter referred to as Princess Donna amongst the Amazons.

Death

An android named Indigo appeared, badly damaged and in need of repair. In her attempts to repair herself and call for aid from other androids, she caused a Superbot to go rogue during a meeting of the Teen Titans and Young Justice; Donna and Omen were killed during the attempts to stop it.

The Return of Donna Troy

Donna Troy had discovered that, like every other person after the destruction of the multiverse, she was an amalgam of every alternate version of Donna Troy in the former realities. Unlike everyone else, Donna was the repository of knowledge of every alternate universe version of herself. She learned that her counterpart on Earth-Two was saved by a firefighter and raised in an orphanage, while her Earth-S counterpart died in the fire. She also discovered that her sworn enemy of the past, Dark Angel, was in fact the Donna Troy of Earth-Seven, saved from certain death by the Anti-Monitor, just like the Monitor had saved Harbinger. When the parallel realities were condensed into one, Dark Angel, who had somehow escaped the compression of every Donna Troy into one single person on the new Earth, sought to kill her. Every life she forced Donna to relive was, in fact, an aspect of an alternate Donna, as a way to avoid the merging and remain the last one standing. When she was defeated, Donna became the real sum of every Donna Troy that existed on every Earth, a living key to the lost Multiverse.

Donna had been reborn after her death at the hands of the Superman android. The Titans of Myth, realizing that she was the child who was destined to save them from some impending threat, brought her to New Cronus and implanted false memories within her mind to make her believe she was the original Goddess of the Moon and wife of Coeus. The Titans of Myth incited war between other worlds near New Cronus in order to gain new worshippers. They used the combined power of their collective faith to open a passageway into another reality, where they would be safe from destruction. Donna was another means to that end, until she was found by the Titans and The Outsiders who restored her true memories. This was not without casualties, however. Sparta, who was restored to full mental health and stripped of the bulk of her power, had been made an officer in the Titans of Myth's royal military. She was sacrificed by the Titans of Myth in an attempt to lay siege to the planet, Minosyss, which housed a Sun-Eater factory miles beneath its surface. Sparta's death had inadvertently helped trigger Donna's memory restoration. Athyns had also reappeared by this time, and aided the heroes and the Mynossian resistance in battling the Titans of Myth. It was then that Hyperion, the Titan of the Sun, revealed Donna's true origins to her and ordered her to open a passageway into another reality by means of a dimensional nexus that once served as a gateway to the Multiverse itself, within the Sun-Eater factory's core. This turned out to be the Titans of Myth's real target. Donna did so, but fearing they would simply continue with their power-mad ambitions, she banished most of them into Tartarus. However, Hyperion, and his wife Thia, were warned of the deception at the last moment. Enraged, they turned on Donna, intending to kill her for the betrayal, but Coeus activated the Sun-Eater to save her and Arsenal. As the Sun-Eater began absorbing their vast solar energies, Hyperion and Thia tried to escape through the Nexus, but they were both torn apart by the combined forces of the Nexus' dimensional pull and the Sun-Eater's power. Coeus, who had learned humility and compassion from Donna, vowed to guard the gateway to make certain the other Titans of Myth remained imprisoned forever. After this, Donna gained all knowledge of her alternate selves and was entrusted with the Universe Orb by Harbinger.

Infinite Crisis

Donna led a group of heroes to New Cronus to deal with a rip in space caused by Alexander Luthor, attacking him through the rift. The team suffered loss, including the death of Jade and several others who went missing. Donna also procured a "red sun eater" in order to defeat Superboy-Prime. Afterwards, Donna returned to New Cronus where she analyzed the history of the universe as it had been recorded in Harbinger's old Universe Orb.

One Year Later

Donna Troy assumed the mantle of Wonder Woman. Diana stepped down, feeling the need to "find out who Diana is". In the midst of a fight with Cheetah and Giganta, Donna was overwhelmed when Doctor Psycho manipulated her into believing that Diana was attacking her with deadly force. At the same time, Diana, posing as a government agent, arrived on the scene. Circe is behind the attacks and capture.

Donna worked alongside ex-boyfriend Kyle Rayner, who had taken up the powers and title of Ion again. They fought against one of the Monitors who attempted to remove them from the newly rebuilt time-stream, claiming the two were unwanted anomalies. Donna returned to earth with Ion in time for him to say good-bye to his dying mother.

Donna later joined several former Teen Titans in their battle against Deathstroke and his Titans East team.

The Challengers from Beyond

Donna soon after attended Duela Dent's funeral with the Teen Titans. After the burial, she was confronted by Jason Todd, who sought her out as a kindred spirit. She repeatedly ran into the helpful Jason while trying to investigate Duela's murder. Her investigation was put on hold once she discovered the Amazons had invaded Washington, D.C. She traveled to the city and confronted the recently revived Hippolyta to put a stop to the invasion. The Amazon Queen informed her that she would consider a withdrawal, only if Donna could include Diana in the peace talks, Donna left to find her sister, discovering that Jason Todd had followed her to Washington as well. Jason told Donna that he believed the Monitors were responsible for Duela's death, but before anything else could be done, both warriors were attacked by the Monitor's aide, Forerunner. They were consequently saved by the seemingly benevolent "Bob," and recruited to help locate Ray Palmer. Their journey took them across the expanse of the new Multiverse, whereupon they were also joined by Donna's former boyfriend, Green Lantern as well as Ray Palmer's successor Ryan Choi. This loose confederation of adventurers became known as the Challengers from Beyond. After several haphazard missions in the Nanoverse, they eventually found Palmer in the parallel reality known as Earth-51. Shortly thereafter, their colleague Bob the Monitor betrayed them, and Earth-51 was destroyed as a result of the Morticoccus Virus. With Palmer in tow, the Challengers eventually returned to their home dimension. Donna, Ray and Kyle agreed that with the growing individuality of the fifty-two existing Monitors, there was too much room for corruption. They all agreed to serve as a watchdog group in order to "Monitor the Monitors".

Return of the Titans

Returning to Earth, Donna reunited with her old teammates the Titans. The group reformed after discovering that the children of one of their deadliest foes, Trigon, had been systematically hunting down members, both old and new.

Blackest Night

Donna had a horrific encounter with her deceased son Robert and husband Terry, revived as undead beings in the Black Lantern Corps. She was bitten by Robert, becoming "infected" by the Black Lantern's power. Donna, along with Superboy, Kid Flash, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and several other resurrected heroes, were targeted by Nekron, the being responsible for the Black Lanterns. Donna's previous deaths made her vulnerable to the Black Rings. However, unlike the other heroes, Donna was converted by being infected with the Black Lantern's power rather than having a ring forced on her.

Justice League

Donna Troy became part of the new Justice League's lineup, along with Mon-El, Batman, and Hal Jordan.

Her recruitment began when she volunteered to help Mikaal Tomas and Congorilla track down the supervillain Prometheus. She accompanied them to the JLA Watchtower alongside Starfire and Animal Man, only to discover that Red Arrow had been mutilated by Prometheus. During the ensuing battle, Donna was impaled through the wrists, but freed herself, taking down Prometheus after he defeated the rest of the team. Unfortunately, the villain destroyed Star City via a teleportation device.

In the aftermath, Donna was told by Wonder Woman that she could benefit from being a part of the JLA. To that end, she officially joined the team, even recruiting Cyborg and Starfire as well.

[shootwinterfest]

Happy Hunting

Shoot Secret Santa Gift by @lizburnz!

The navigation system chimes, “You have reached your destination,” and Shaw mashes on the brakes, simultaneously as she cuts the wheel.

The car screeches to a halt, slanted in a parallel spot, ridden halfway up the curb in front of some apartment buildings and a few startled pedestrians. She slams the gear into park and bolts before the tire smoke even has a chance to settle. Anything else vehicular related is irrelevant now, as she leaves the door hanging wide open and the engine still running. 

Root needs her- needs her help. With what? Specifically, Shaw doesn't know, but the short text with more exclamation points than words seemed pretty damn urgent. And since Root's phone has been going straight to voice mail ever since, she believes the threat to be serious, something that requires a second gun and Shaw's most preferred method of intervention. Shooting. 

But the neighborhood is quiet. Well, not that it shouldn't be, this early on a Saturday morning, but when Root's involved in anything there's usually some degree of chaos. Oddly, nothing seems to be out of place. No smoke means no fire, no screaming means no gunshots have recently gone off. The only person running like their life depended on it, is Shaw, who's starting to wonder if she's even at the right place. 

But it is the right place. 314 Avenue C. And Shaw knows this because it says so. Right there on the door. Behind Root. 

The woman who cried wolf lounges casually at the foot of the stoop, without a scratch on her head or a single care in the world. And though Shaw is somewhat relieved by the sight of neither dead nor dying Root, it doesn't make her any less perturbed, being pulled out of bed at the brink of dawn because someone can't quite grasp what constitutes an emergency. 

Shaw drags her feet the rest of the way, shoving her hands deep into her coat pockets so Root can't see how tightly they're balled into fists. She doesn't want to do anything she might regret, like punch a certain grin off a certain someone's face. Not until she has a valid reason at least. 

“Good morning,” Root sing songs in her usual pleasant way. 

“What is it this time?” Shaw asks, bypassing formalities completely. The faster she gets to the point, the faster she can turn down whatever it is and go home. 

“Let's see...” Root glances to the imaginary watch on her wrist. “Fifty-eight city blocks in less than twelve minutes. Wow, Shaw! I think you broke your old record.”

Shaw's eyes flutter into the back of her head. “Why am I here, Root?”

“Isn't that the age old question?” Root ambles to her feet with a large cup of coffee in hand. “Whole milk. No sugar. Just the way you like it,” she says, extending it towards a wary Shaw. 

Whether it's a hot cup-o-bribery or a peace offering, Shaw isn't sure, but she takes it anyway. “You know, this doesn't even begin to make up for-”

“Do you like hunting?” Root asks peculiarly and out of nowhere. 

Shaw just blinks. There isn't enough caffeine in this coffee, or in the entire city of New York, to help prepare her for the roller coaster that is Root's cryptics. 

The first thing that comes to mind is fugitive tracking of course, a literal man hunt. Now that, Shaw could get on on board with. But knowing Root, it's probably nothing so obvious and easy. It's two very different things, what Shaw thinks and what Root actually means. 

“It depends,” Shaw says, reluctant to commit without details first. She's learned the hard way too many times before. “What the target is... if I can shoot them... but mostly, my mood.”

“And...” Root leans in on the tips of her toes, “What kind of mood do you currently find yourself in this lovely day?”

“The pistol whipping kind of mood if you don't cut the crap and tell me what you want.”

Root pouts half-heartedly, slipping a piece of paper from her coat pocket, to which Shaw snatches and unfolds. Written on it, in barely legible hacker scrawl, is a list of addresses that still do everything but answer Shaw's question. 

“They're apartments,” Root clarifies. “I need your help finding one.”

A map could do a better job. Hell, Root's practically got a GPS system and then some squawking in her ear. But maybe it's more than that, Shaw thinks. Maybe there's a bomb planted in one, or a missing person tied to a radiator. Looking closer at the list, she finds a four digit number beside each address. Next to that, some kind of code... 2/1 1700SF W/D... 

But it isn't until Shaw reads the part about “no pets” that she shoves the paper back at Root. 

“This is why you 911'd me? To help you house hunt!” Shaw says, gaping in amazement. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

Root throws her an obvious look. 

“I thought you were...” Hurt. Dying. Both. The potential of either could light a fire of apocalyptic proportions under Shaw's ass, and Root seems to relish the fact. “Do you know how many traffic laws I just broke?”

Root shrugs. “All of them, I imagine.”

Shaw deadpans her for a moment, mystified as she internally debates whether or not she should spoil her knuckles today with an all you can beat buffet of Root's face. Shaw nearly mowed down a group of tourists crossing the street, sideswiped about a dozen parked cars, ran every single red light while doing quadruple the speed limit. For christsake, she car jacked someone at gunpoint. And for what? For the exciting, once in a lifetime mission of finding analogue-interfull-of-shit a place to live?

“Happy hunting,” Shaw eventually says and turns heel in the opposite direction. And of course it isn't the last word. Root follows on her heals and whines in her wake, with things like please and wait and a few pet names she isn't allowed to call Shaw in public. 

“You're bored, I get it,” Shaw tells her in stride. “The Machine gave you the day off, so instead of annoying relevant numbers, you've decided to annoy me instead. I get it.”

“No, that isn't-” Root groans in frustration. “Will you please just hear me out?” and she hooks an arm around Shaw's to stop her. “I called you because, one, I value your opinion. And two, I thought you'd like to be a part of a mutually beneficial decision.”

“How in the world does this benefit me?”

“Think of it like this. The sooner I get a key to my own place, the sooner you can have yours back,” Root says and places an encouraging hand on Shaw's shoulder, which is batted off not a second later when the information is really processed.

“You have a key to my apartment?”

“I made copies.”

“Wait. Copies, plural?” As in more than one? “Seriously, Root. What the fuck.”

“Look, we can stand here, arguing semantics for the next 45 seconds until your stolen vehicle is swarmed by cops, plural, or...” Root jingles a set of car keys like a carrot on a stick. “I'll even let you drive,” she adds, and Shaw doesn't have much time to mull it over, not with all the sirens wailing in the distance. 

“Fine,” Shaw finally agrees, though it was a tough decision to make. The back seat of a squad car or Root's- where is her car? 

She presses the clicker and follows the faint little beep across the street, to where the vintage muscle car sits. Not just any muscle car though, a cherry red, 1967 Mustang twin turbo V8 in pristine condition. And Shaw knows this, because it looks just like the car Harold has, locked in his garage. The one he brags about all the time, having spent years restoring it to near mint. The one he never drives or lets anyone else drive, for the matter. 

“How'd you get Finch to lend you his car?” Shaw asks, quickly realizing how dumb her question sounds aloud. Especially to Root, who just throws her head back and laughs. 

…

The first stop of the list is on the upper east side, to a twenty something story apartment building fitted with a starch press suited doorman and a security guard station, which Shaw deems is more for appearances sake. Armed with walkies, flashlights, and pens for the sign in sheet, they let Root and Shaw breeze right by with their fake ID's and concealed weapons.

It's no surprise when Root hits the “P” for penthouse button in the elevator. She's not exactly the humble type, or one to underplay any sort of small endeavor.

A well dressed blonde woman greets them right off the elevator, shining a permanent smile of all veneer that never lets up even while she speaks. Root gingerly accepts the pamphlet offered, glossing over it as she absently wanders about the main living area, which is two times bigger than Shaw's entire apartment. And white. All white. The carpets, the walls, even the staging furniture. Lord forbid anyone so much as whisper the words red wine or tomato sauce, or in Root's predictable case, blood. 

“Seems nice,” Root says while Shaw shuffles alongside like a bored child. 

“Then buy it.” The sooner Root signs the deal, the sooner she can get back to her regularly scheduled program of having absolutely nothing to do on her day off. 

“The master bath apparently has a built in sauna...” Root gives her a little nudge, “Guess how many settings the smart shower has?”

“Enough to replace me.”

“Not likely,” but then Root lowers the pamphlet in introspect. “Unless I could program it to be mean to me...”

“Ha. Ha.”

“I'm gonna have a look around.”

“And I...” Shaw scans the room, searching for the oasis in this desert of white hell, “...will see you later,” and she branches off towards the refreshment table.

It's probably the best thing about an open house. Well, if you're Shaw and you have no intent on buying anything. The free food. And not just tired old finger sandwiches either. The last time Shaw's seen a spread like this, she was undercover at a political fundraiser for what's his name running for office of who cares. 

Shaw sips a bellini from a flute as she grazes the table, helping herself to a little of this and that. At some point she does make threatening eye contact with the foolish person who tried reaching for the last salmon wrap, but all is pleasant and well for the most part. She get's to explore her pallet, Root gets to explore the apartment. A win-win so far in her book. 

“God! You wont believe the offer that tacky-khaki couple just proposed.”

Inconspicuously, Shaw glances a little ways to her right. The fake toothed woman who greeted them earlier stands with another, conversing in whispers and hushed voices. Well they'd like to believe no one else can hear them.

“An open house... what was Harriet thinking? Letting anyone waltz in off the street?”

“We'll have to fumigate when this is over.”

“Would you look at all the riff-raff?”

Shaw follows the acrylic red finger nail as it not so discretely flicks across the room. Of all the people scattered about the living area, she decides to pick out Root. 

“What do you think her net worth is?”

“If that ugly leather jacket's anything to go by. I saw holes in it.”

“And the hair...

“I like her boots though...”

“So did I- five seasons ago!”

Their annoying laughter eventually fades into the violin music, but Shaw's temper continues on it's high note. In her head, she's already plotted half the steps towards their accidental deaths, because no one – no one – is allowed to talk crap about Root. Except for Shaw, that is. 

And under any other circumstance, she'd just go over there and confront the two women with a lesson in manners. Incidentally, fists are a great learning tool for most people. 

Oh, but where would that get her? Wanted by the police, probably, if that little car jacking stunt didn't already land a warrant for her arrest. But it would be fun, well fun for Shaw, to give those rent-a-cops downstairs a run for their money. 

No, she eventually decides. There are more subtle ways to exact revenge. 

She sidles over to the group of young hipsters first, who have gathered by the fire place pretending to admire the brickwork. 

“Did one heck of a clean up on this place, huh?” she says, cutting into their conversation at just the right moment. 

They turn to her with mixed expressions. “What do you mean?” one of them asks. 

Shaw leans in. “Oh, you don't know?” she says in a hushed voice, so secretive and curious, it demands the group's undivided attention. All but one.

The guy with thick rimmed glasses just scoffs at her. “What? Did some dude die here or something?”

“More like dudes. Plural,” Shaw replies and glasses guy stops laughing. “A few months back, this tech company was having their big launch party here. Well, during the party, one of the partners totally loses it and I mean loses it. I heard, it was because the other partners were trying to cut him out... guess he thought he'd beat them to it.” and she unfolds the rest of the scene, in graphic detail with complementary stabbing gestures. To the point, a few of them turn a sickly shade of pale. 

But glasses guy, the apparent leader of the pack, needs more convincing. 

“Come on! How do you not remember this?” Shaw says, and name drops a famous New York magazine that all the people like them claim to read but never do. 

And suddenly, him and the rest of the group are singing a different tune, nodding their heads and collectively muttering things like: Oh yes, I remember that article and Such a tragedy and It's too bad, I heard they were really up and coming... 

“Yeah.” Shaw gazes solemnly at the fireplace. “That's where they found the head... threw it like it was a bowling ball.”

Like before, they stare at the fireplace. Albeit, in utter silence and for new and morbid reasons now, but Shaw takes it as her cue to move on. 

And move on she does, to the pleasant older couple standing by themselves in the kitchen, which is also bigger than Shaw's apartment as well. They look a bit out of place. Suburban, perhaps midwestern. Shaw isn't sure just yet, but they definitely aren't like the rest of the people who live here. 

“Excuse me,” Shaw says, all smile and cheer. “I couldn't help but notice, you two aren't from around here, are you?”

“Oh, heavens no!” The woman replies. Her accent is unmistakably southern and thick as molasses. “We're visiting our daughter. She just graduated from NYU!”

“Edna, you don't gotta tell everyone we meet,” the husband grumbles. “Hell, half of New York City knows by now.”

“No, it's fine,” Shaw politely reassures them. “You two must be very proud. Are you looking to move here as well, or?”

The woman side eyes the man. “Well, I would like to... It'd be nice to live closer to our little girl. Not  to mention the broadway... But Richard here's an old stick in the mud.” she leans in to whisper only to Shaw, “He doesn't take to change very well.” The man grumbles again. 

“I totally understand. When I first moved here, it took me a while to get acclimated. I mean, the first time I was mugged-”

“You were mugged?” The woman clasps her chest. “Oh, you poor thing!”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, “You get used to it. After a dozen times or so it's just like muscle memory. Wallet, phone, jewelry, please don't kill me.” Shaw acts it out like a routine. The grand finale, pulling the bottom of her shirt. “I was stabbed a block away from here, wanna see the scar?”

Their southern manners come to a full stop and they leave without so much as a goodbye or a bless your heart. Filled with a sense of crudely gained accomplishment, Shaw blows the smoke from the imaginary barrel of her imaginary gun and sets her sights on other targets. 

One by one, they're taken out. She tells the uptight newly weds the apartment had been used as a movie set for prestigious films such as Gang-Bangs of New York, and One Fuck Over the Cuckhold's Nest, and Forrest Hump. 

The leader of the co-op board has a portrait of Hitler hanging in his foyer. The neighbor downstairs is prone to clanging pots and pans at odd hours of the night because the voices tell her to. The walls are coated with so much lead paint, the apartment could double as a fallout shelter from radiation. And the whole building is haunted by failed venture capitalists, Shaw said to another person, and when his back was turned, she flickered the light switches. 

And alright, that last one was mediocre at best, she admits. But in her defense, the one too many bellinis were starting to kick in a that point and she was running out of material. Thankfully, Root had come full circle by then, finished with her browsing. 

“What do you think?”

“I heard the foundation's crumbling-” Shaw covers her mouth, pushing back the bubbly. “Whole place is gonna level in like a year.”

Root flashes her a look of disbelief, “That's absurd,” and returns to the brochure in hand. “I think it's pretty nice,” she says, and goes on and on about all the nice features and the nice amenities and the nice view.

“You!” 

They look up and see the teethy realtor clomping her heels in their direction. “Aw, shit,” Shaw whispers when the woman turns her pointed red nail to her this time.

“Just where the hell do you get off! I lost potential buyers because of you!”

Shaw blinks, unfazed by this woman practically yelling in her face. However, Root's rather confused, bordering the edge of worried. 

“What is she talking about?” Root asks, one of her hands sliding to the taser tucked in the back of her pants. Hovering, like she's unsure whether or not it's going to be necessary in the next ten seconds.  

“I don't know,” Shaw replies with an innocent shrug at first, until she completely abandons the concept of an inside voice. “Must be all the asbestos in the air!” she shouts and the rest of the room, the few people she hadn't managed to scare off, they all clam up and turn bug eyed in their direction. 

For a moment, the realtor panics and her fake smile returns to settle the crowd. “You need to leave!” she says through gritted teeth. “Both of you need to leave, immediately!”

“Way ahead of ya, sister.” Shaw says and calls out over her shoulder, “Wouldn't want to get a stupid thing like lung cancer or anything!” At this point, Root looks like she's going to taser Shaw instead. 

“Let's go, Sameen,” she says, perturbed and not in a mild way, judging from grip she has on Shaw's elbow. 

And still... “Really, you think they'd shell out a few extra bucks to remove hazardous materials from the walls!” Shaw manages one last time before she's shoved into the elevator.

Root jabs the lobby button and the doors close. She turns to Shaw with a myriad of emotions, some embarrassment, a little confusion, but mostly anger in her eyes. Shaw can feel them boring into the side of her face.

“What?” Shaw eventually shrugs. “Something you wanna say, Root?”

Root crosses her arms, tightly over her chest. “Something you wanna say, Shaw?”

Shaw rolls her eyes to the top of the door, watching the floor numbers fall on the screen for moment before clearing her throat. ���Your hair looks nice today.”

…

Miles later in Midtown...

Together, they loiter the sidewalk in front of the next apartment Root might potentially rent, if the realtor ever decides to make an appearance. They've been waiting over a half an hour now. 

“What's taking so long?” Shaw asks, again. 

“Traffic, probably.” Root shrugs. She doesn't seem to mind the waiting as much as Shaw does. Then again, she doesn't have anywhere else to be. And neither does Shaw, but that's besides the point. Tardiness is just unprofessional. 

“Call them.”

“I've already called five times,” Root tells her. “No one's picking up.”

“When?” Shaw asks. She hadn't seen Root touch her phone at all. 

Root just taps the shell of the cochlear implant hiding beneath her hair. Oh yes, how could have Shaw forgotten, the ethereal blue tooth connection to robot overlord. 

“I still don't understand why the Machine couldn't help you with this,” Shaw says to her. “Seems it'd be a heck of a lot easier. Beep boop beep... an apartment appears.”

Root smirks at her sideways, “You know that's not how it works.” 

“Why not? I mean, she can make up elaborate identities for you, reposition satellites in orbit for you-”

“She can also tell me how many times you've watched Eat, Pray, Love... this month.”

Shaw glares to the side of Root's face trying, and failing to keep the amusement all to herself. But she's distracted for a moment, there's a passerby who's taking too long to pass by Harold's car. “Keep moving! So her abilities fall just short of finding her favorite asset a place to live?”

“She wants me to be more...” Root chews the inside of her cheek, “Independent, was the word she used.”

For once, Shaw's in agreement with Root's girlfriend. 

“I'm pretty sure this is the exact opposite of what she meant,” Shaw teases. That is unless, the definition of independence changed over night and no one bothered to say anything. 

“She also thinks we don't spend enough quality time together,” Root quickly adds, casually with a flip of her hair. 

“Yeah, right,” Shaw scoffs at that. She'd like to know what the Machine would have to say about being  slandered and used as a pawn for Root's own projections. “We spend lots of time together. Too much if you ask me.”

“Numbers don't count.”

“You come over all the time,” Shaw argues. Root just lets herself right in, with all those keys she's made.

“Sex doesn't count either.”

“Then what- Hey buddy! You wanna lose that hand!” Shaw shouts at a particularly touchy admirer of Harold's car. “What does count?” she finally asks. Really, she wants to know, how she can possibly spread her time thinner than it already is. “Does this count?”

Root thinks about it for a moment. “I'm not sure yet. But I'll let you know.”

“Right.” Shaw shakes her head; Root can be impossible at times. The 'issue' can go on the back burner for now, Shaw decides. They've got to move forward with the day, which is no longer dependent on the no-show realtor. 

The front door of the building is locked, go figure, but that doesn't repel Shaw. There's an intercom system right beside it with dozens of names, each having their own call button. Shaw mashes all of them and waits. 

In no time does the speaker crackle with static and slews of voices, speaking all at once in a melody of Hello? Who is it? and What the fuck do you want?

“Time Warner Cable,” Shaw says into the box and almost immediately, a buzzer goes off and unlocks the door. Shaw opens it and turns to Root still waiting on the sidewalk. “You coming or what?”

Root leads her upstairs and down the short hallway. “This is the one,” she says, pointing to the lock for Shaw to pick, which she does so effortlessly.

The inside is just as bland as the outside. The walls are coated in a neutral beige color that matches the carpet in all the rooms. A single bedroom, an eat in kitchen, a reasonably sized living area with a few windows and an okay view of the coffee shop all these midtowners mill about. And that's pretty much it. Though, Shaw thinks that was Martha Stewart crossing the intersection. 

“I don't hate it,” Root sums up, having toured the entire place in less than a minute. 

“But you don't like it either.”

“Eh.” Root shrugs. “It's just hard to picture myself living here, without my things.”

An idea pops into Shaw's head. “Okay, how about...” she thinks aloud and surveys the area. “Your desk can be here, in the living room, since you don't watch TV anyways...” She moves to the kitchen next. “You can put a little cafe table here... coffee pot here... and hey look, extra cabinet space for things that aren't cooking related.”

“I know how to cook, Shaw.”

“Name one time you cooked anything,” Shaw asks, but immediately stops Root the second her mouth opens. “Let me rephrase. Cooked anything that wasn't eventually used as tear gas.”

“Okay, you've got me there,” Root concedes. “Please continue.”

Shaw leads her to the bedroom. “The bed can go here. Nightstand with the lava lamp right next to it. Dresser here. Bean bag- if you still want it, there. The closet's kinda small... you'll have to get rid of a few jackets, but-”

“Wait,” Root interrupts. “Go back to the part about the bed.”

Shaw back tracks a few steps. “The bed goes here and-”

“Right here?” Root asks, edging closer and closer. 

And Shaw's so distracted with her fake floor plan, she thinks nothing of it. She doesn't realize Root's been methodically backing her into the wall until her back actually hits the wall. 

“And, what do you imagine we'd be doing on this bed, Sameen?” Her voice drops an octave in Shaw's ear, tingling like those fingertips skirting the inside hem of her jeans. 

“I can think of a few things...” Shaw whispers, tracing the heat radiating from Root's lips inches away from her own. “On this bed, and then, that bureau over there.”

Root flashes a grin and presses it to Shaw's, briefly though. The kiss was only a ruse to take Shaw's lip between her teeth and tease some more before letting go. “I want you to know...” Root sighs as her hands circle around Shaw's wrists, “I'm really sorry about this.”

What that means? Shaw doesn't know. She barely had time to process anything Root said, because as soon as Root said it, she was spun around and pinned to wall with her arms locked behind her back. 

“Whatthafuck!”

“Just go with it sweetie,” Root tells her, and not a second later do they hear footsteps coming down the hall and a man's voice calling out shakily. “Hello? Is someone there?”

He double takes when he sees them, his face conveying a look of surprise and slight fear for his life. “What's going on here? Who are you?”

“Special Agent Augusta King,” Root announces. As swiftly as she got the jump on Shaw, her free hands whips out a black leather bound badge that says FBI. “We received an anonymous tip about a wanted criminal hiding out in the building.”

“Here? In this building?” the man stutters in shock.

“Are you the tipper, sir?” Root asks, meanwhile, zip tying Shaw's wrists together for the bonus effect. So tight, Shaw thinks she's actually in trouble with the federal government. 

“No, I live next door, I was just going-”

“So you heard suspicious activity from the vacant apartment right next to you and didn't think to report it?” Root says, catching him off guard. “Sir, are you aware that harboring a fugitive of the law is a felony offense?”

Shaw grumbles, “Like impersonating a-” 

Root silences her with a good shove.

“Woah, wait a minute,” the man backs away, hands up in defense. “I had no idea she was- I wouldn't harbor anything!”

“You'll be hearing from my offices.” Root begins escorting Shaw out into the hallway, pausing to glare at the man as she passes. “Don't leave town.”

By the time they exit the front door, Shaw is more than done with the whole charade. Immediately, she shirks out of Roots grip, fuming slightly as she strains for the folding knife in her back pocket. “I can't believe you- no wait, I can!” The zip tie snaps free after a bit of sawing.

“I'm not the one who left the door wide open.”

The few choice words bubbling in the back of Shaw's throat, simmer down. Root's right. She did leave the door open. Like some kind of fucking amateur. She rubs her sore wrists, bitter. “What are you still doing with that thing anyway?”

“I don't know.” Root jogs the badge in her hands. “It does come in handy though.”

Shaw shakes her head. From the corner of her eyes, she notices a suspicious group of hoodlums beginning to circle Harold's car like vultures on a carcass. 

“Gimme that!” Shaw snatches the goddamn badge out of Root's hands and flips it out with an, “FBI! Freeze!” The little bastards bolt in all directions, and Shaw hums to herself. “How come I never got one of these?” 

…

Later and lower on the east side...

Jerri, a fast talking woman from Queens who looks like Fusco's sister, hustles them up the stairs of a run down walk up. The bellinis Shaw guzzled earlier threaten to make a second appearance as they round the landing of floor number six. More so when she sidesteps a ragged baby doll lying in a questionable pool of something awful slicked on the floor. 

“Not much further,” the woman tells them. “Just a few more floors!”

“She said that- three floors ago!” Shaw huffs in tow.

“Try to keep up, Shaw,” Root says, jogging the steps with ease, at a steady rhythm that's utterly baffling. Considering Shaw's never seen her so physically active at something that didn't involve

“Coming...” Shaw grumbles and picks up the pace. She reaches the top floor well behind them, out of breath. “I gotta start working out again.”

Jerri pulls out a ring of keys bigger than a steering wheel and starts sifting through them. “It's gotta be one of these,” she says and tries a few but to no avail. “Doh!” she smacks her forehead. “Silly me, we went too high! It's two floors down!”

Shaw deadpans. “Are you fu-” Root jabs her with an elbow, “Funny! Aren't you just funny!” 

“Down we go!” Jerri cheers, waving at them to follow her once again. Shaw wouldn't follow this woman if she were the most relevant number of her career. But Root insists, so she has no choice but trudge back down the stairs. 

The door, the right one this time, it looks like it was breached with a battering ram and glued back together. It sticks as Jerri tries to push it open. Shaw wishes she hadn't been able to unjar it from the frame, when they finally step foot inside.

Cramped is an understatement. Claustrophobia is an increasing possibility for Shaw as they stand shoulder to shoulder in what the realtor calls a studio apartment. More like a closet. 

“Why don't I give you the grand tour!” Jerri says. 

Shaw turns her head left, then right, then back again. “I think I've just had it.”

“Oh, she's hysterical! Does she do stand up?”

“Only when she can't sit down.” Shaw wriggles free of the pair for more space, but doesn't get much. The square footage of this place barely pushes the three digit realm. 

The detail Jerri goes into as she tries to upsell this apartment gives Shaw the idea, she's either the most optimistic woman in the world or the biggest hustler in New York real estate. And if it's the latter, Root's the most patient mark, letting this con artist finish her entire spiel of blatant lies. 

“Look Root, I'm in the living room, kitchen, and bathroom. At the same time.”

“I think what my friend is trying to say-”

“Her friend...” Shaw interrupts, until she realizes that Root didn't actually put the word girl in front of friend first. For once. “Never mind, carry on.”

“There just isn't a lot of space,” Root puts delicately. 

“Space? There's plenty of space!” Jerri fires back, jazzed and sorts. “What this place lacks in size, it makes for in compartmentalization!” and she goes on to show them, the hidden cabinets in the in the walls, the drawers underneath the diagonal slant in the staircase frame. “And!” she claps her hands together before grabbing the the lonely painting from the wide wall. Underneath is a latch like rope, which she pulls. “Tada!”

A bed flops out of the wall and Shaw stares at it, unblinkingly. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“May we have a moment please?” Root says, and Jerri the realtor goes into the kitchen, two feet away. 

Shaw whispers to Root. “This whole thing is one bad pullout joke. You can't actually be serious.”

“So what?” Root replies. “It's not like I'll be around to mind it so much.”

“Well, I mind it!” 

Root smiles as she bats her lashes. “Planning sleepovers already?”

“Not if I have to unhinge the bed every time I wanna-”

“Want to what, exactly?” Root teases, for a moment, until Shaw's dead serious face hits home. “Okay, okay.” She clears her throat for Jerri to end her fake phone call. “Do you have anything else available?”

“Preferably not coffin-sized,” Shaw adds. 

It's like a light bulb flickers over Jerri's head. She frantically searches through the mess of sordid papers in her haphazardly thrown together briefcase until she finds the one. The holy grail of documents, she holds it up. “Yes!” she exclaims at first, then presses it to her chest, distraught. “No, I don't! Technically, the application's still pending and I can't show you.”

“Come on, Jerri,” Root says, putting on half her charm. “We just wanna look. Where's the harm in that?”

She gives it some thought. Not much. “Oh, what the heck? You've convinced me. It's only three floors down, come on, I'll show you.”

“Let's hope she's got the right building at least,” Shaw says and Jerri bursts in laughter. 

“Honey, if your job doesn't involve a stage and microphone, you gotta change careers because you are-”

“Hysterical?” 

…

The other apartment is nothing like the previous. It's as if they've slipped into an alternate universe on the stairwell, because there's no possible way this is the same building. Root's in awe the moment she walks in, her eyes lighting up in a way Shaw's never seen before, well, when it comes to this sort of thing. 

Crown molding lines the walls, coated in a scheme of rich blues soft whites. The long paneled windows that stretch from the living room all the way to the kitchen fill the spacious interior with honest light. And the view, Shaw's never considered Midtown to be a scenic place. Then again, she wasn't looking through this window. 

“You've been holding out on us, Jerri,” Shaw tells her. For the first time today, she approves.  

“About that other application,” Root says, “What if you accidentally misplaced it?”

“Say no more, sweetheart.” Jerri bats a hand. “My family's from Sicily. I know all about that sort of thing. We'll go to my office, lose some paperwork, sign some paperwork, have ya in here in no time,” she says, and starts ushering them towards the door. Quickly, adamantly. Suspiciously. 

“Wait,” Shaw says. There's something missing, something she's not telling them. “What's the catch?”

“Catch? What catch? You two look like a nice couple, I wanna cut you a break, that's the catch.”

“We're not-” Shaw rubs the bridge of her nose. “Look, no offense, but this is all too good to be true.” There's got to be something wrong with it, Shaw can feel it in her bones. Shit plumbing, rats in the walls, a weird smell that only comes around during certain times of the day. Something. 

“Listen, I got pristine records going back thirty years on this place. You can take a look for yourselves, but we gotta go down to my office fir-”

“Shh!” Shaw holds a finger up, silencing the room. “Did you hear that?” Her ears keen to the faint, muffled noises. “It's coming from the living room.”

“Yeah, you know what,” Jerri hastily explains in Shaw's wake. “I know what that is. The neighbors are redoing their kitchen. On a Saturday, can you believe it?”

Shaw ignores her and presses her ear to the wall, listening for the noise that seems to have gone away now.

“See? What'd I tell ya? Now if you don't mind, I-”

There's a loud crash suddenly. Something had smacked against the other side of the wall with such force, it rattled the hanging lights and shook the floor. 

Shaw slowly backs away as more, lesser thumps follow. Steadily, like a beat from a drum. And not seconds later, the moaning starts. Unmistakably from a man and oddly, a very strict sounding woman who seems rather disappointed in him.

“And...” Shaw turns to Root with her I told you so face. “there's the catch.”

“Rent controlled nymphos...” Jerri hisses and then smacks the wall, “Hey! Some of us are trying to work over here! Not that you care! Can't go one minute without screwing each other's brains out! Literally!”

“Are they?” Curiosity in her eyes, Root steps closer to have a listen for herself, and it's completely unnecessary. With walls so thin and neighbors so loud, she could stand in any room and still hear all the graphic details of their sexcapades. So it's really a bit extra of Root to flatten the whole side of her face against the wall like that. “Oh, Jerri, you have been holding out on us.”

Shaw rolls her eyes, “Come on, we're leaving,” and takes Root by the arm.

“No, Shaw wait! It's getting better!” Root protests as she's literally dragged to the door. “Shaw, I heard a paddle!”

….

The end in East Village.

“I don't think I've ever heard the word charming used to describe so many not charming things in my life,” Shaw says. She fiddles with the butter knife at the table while she waits for her order. They decided- well, Shaw insisted they stop for a late lunch, and the Russian owned deli on 7th was the closest eatery that wasn't a letter grade away from being quarantined. “How is a giant water stain on the ceiling charming?”

“Depends on how you look at it,” Root replies, her head in the piece of paper lain on the table top. She's been scribbling on it since they sat down. The list from earlier today looks nothing like it did, crumpled up, torn at the edges and for some reason, wet. Nearly all of the address had been crossed out, angrily by the look of it. 

Shaw twirls the utensil in her fingers. “I thought it looked like Margaret Thatcher.”

“I'm not getting sucked into this argument again.” Root draws another x over something and brings the pen to her lips, chewing at the end. “It was Barbara Bush anyway...”

Shaw snatches the paper from Root's unsuspecting hands. 

“Hey I need that,” Root says. Her attempts of retrieving it are all in vain. “Shaw, I still haven't decided which one I- where did you get those glasses?”

“Glove box,” Shaw replies, lifting the shades from her eyes to squint at the paper. “Didn't think I could get a hangover before I fell asleep.”

“Can I have it back, please? It's important.”

Shaw throws the glasses aside. “Root, these are all crap. You know this.”

“But I need to pick one.”

“Seriously, have you never gone apartment shopping before?” Shaw asks. Judging from the look on Root's face, she hasn't. “Root. Just make a new list.”

She sinks into the booth, whining pitifully. “But I hate this so much, Shaw. Can't I just live with you? Please?” 

Root smiles, full charm this time. And Shaw jumps when she feels something crawling up the length of her thigh. Luckily the waiter comes with the food, so Shaw has a valid excuse for evicting Root's foot from her crotch. 

“Independence.” Shaw reminds her before grabbing the sandwich off of the plate. She's about to take a bite, but pauses midway. An odd feeling had struck her, a feeling like she's being watched and not by a secret system.

Leaned against the wall, slumped in her seat, is Root, staring at Shaw's sandwich with a weird lust in her eyes. If she was hungry, then she should have ordered something. So tough, Shaw thinks, bringing the sandwich to mouth again and goddamnit!

Shaw cuts the fucking thing in half and slides the plate across the table. Root smiles to herself and takes a nibble and then just- chomps down. Shaw can't believe what shes seeing right now.

“This is the best sandwich I've ever had,” Root says, at least that's what Shaw thinks she says. Root's mouth is so full, and yet, she keeps trying to fill it. 

“As a person who's had a lot of sandwiches, I-”

“Shut up and eat it, Shaw!”

Without further protest, Shaw takes a bite. Her eyes roll into the back of her head. “Oh my fucking god.” It is the best sandwich she's ever had. Why is Root right all the time?

“So, tomorrow...” Root manages to swallow the rest without choking. “New day, new list, perhaps a new car even? I heard Harry's got a viper tucked away in cold storage.”

Shaw chews on it. As fun as it was gallivanting around this charming city with Root... she'll have to pass. “Sorry, you're on your own for round two. I'm busy.”

“I checked. You're not.”

What is this? Slow season for criminal activity? “I'm taking a personal day.”

“Fine,” Root says, dabbing with the napkin before it's surly tossed aside. “I'll be wandering Hell's Kitchen tomorrow if you change your mind.”

“Okay, Root.” Shaw snorts, almost choking on her food. “Give your taser a good charge before you do.” She'll definitely need it for that side of town- if she were actually going. 

Shaw's not stupid, she recognized the pattern as soon as she saw the list. All the stops they've made so far today were along the 4 train, which lets off near Subway HQ and coincidentally, right by Shaw's apartment.

They step outside the deli and Shaw gives the place a nod as she slips the glasses back on. The sign is in Russian, and unfortunately, none of it involves the ten words she knows. “Goodbye restaurant I don't know the name of.”

“Actually,” Root says, glancing up at the sign. “It think it says sandwich, well, bread meat bread, but you get the picture.” 

“Hmm.” Shaw shrugs. She's halfway to the car, that better not be stolen, when she notices Root isn't behind her. Doubling back, Shaw finds her standing at the deli's window, staring at a sign that says For Rent – Inquire Within. 

…

They inquire within. 

The owner of the deli; a burly, grey bearded and rather abrasive gentleman named Vlad, throws his dirty apron over his shoulder and yells something wild in Russian to the cooks behind the counter. 

“Come! We go!” he then yells to Root and Shaw, and leads them out and around the building, through several locked doors and up a rickety old freight elevator, all while cursing in his native tongue. And Shaw's sure of this because most of those words he's using, are the same ones she's used to start bar fights overseas. 

“You go, I wait,” Vlad says, and shoos them off the elevator. 

It's was an industrious space converted to a loft by the previous owners. The concrete floors were replaced with dark hard wood for a more domestic feel, but the steel pillars remained. Carved out to one side, the obvious kitchen accustomed with marble counter tops, a range, and a classic style refrigerator. And in the far corner, the porcelain bathroom with the large clawfoot tub, partitioned by a wall of glass blocks. 

Root turns circles, marveling the expanse of open floor plan. “I have no words, Shaw.” 

“I'm shocked,” Shaw replies, but it has nothing to do with this rare real estate gem they've stumbled upon by sheer luck. Root's non-stop motormouth has suddenly run out of fuel and hell has actually frozen over. 

But in the weird trend of today's events, Shaw checks and double checks everything. That the light switches turn on and the water runs from the faucets. She test the sturdiness of the steel beams and the thickness of the walls. She stomps around in her steel toed boots for weak spots in the floor. In the end, everything seems to be in working order. The radiator is blasting heat, the toilet is flushing, and yes, the refrigerator is also running. 

The second Shaw mentions roof access, Root's falling over to make a deal. 

Vlad may be limited in English, but he understands the universal language of money and the giant wad of cash Root suddenly pulls out of her pocket. He shoves a set of keys in her hand and goes off on Russian tangent as he counts the money.

“He says...” Root pauses to listen. “No checks, no cards, rent is cash only...”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“I did some work for the Russian mob- long story,” Root tells her before she's back to translating. “I'm supposed to put the money in an envelope and slip under his door... on the first of the month, not the second, or... well that doesn't sound very pleasant.”

Shaw's eyes widen some. She tries to ask what the she means by that, but Root shushes her with a raised finger.

“There is one rule... don't bother me. If you do not bother me, I will not bother you and everything will be... cookies and cream?”

“What does that mean?”

“Sorry, I'm a bit rusty.” Root tunes back in, nodding profusely at the last part before he shakes her hand and leaves. 

“What did he just say to you?”

Root turns to her. “He said, My name is Vladimir Baronov Petrovich, and I fix nothing.”

…

A week later... 

Shaw picks up a bottle of wine on the way to Root's. A house warming gift of sorts, or a present depending on how you look at it, though Shaw prefers it as a celebration of mission completion and good things yet to come. 

The days of Root living out of satchels and crashing on couches are finally over, and for some reason, Shaw takes comfort in that. It means things are changing, for the better, she believes. Having a safe, permanent place to lay your head, it means something.

Shaw can hear the faint music playing as she lifts the elevator gate. She expects Root sprung for a decent sound system, something to listen to while she cranes her neck over a computer for hours on end. And maybe she found a nice desk and a comfortable chair like Harold's to sit in while she does, Shaw wonders, as she rounds the corner, quietly. 

Sneaking up on Root is a hit or miss, depending on the Machine's mood. But Shaw hopes she gets to catch Root doing something weird for once, even though she has no idea what that might entail. 

Root's barefoot, sitting cross legged on the floor with a soldering iron, humming to herself. And Shaw thinks it's actually kind of cute- maybe, at least until she finds a better word for it. Which is never. The feeling becomes short lived, the nameless word is moot when she realizes why Root's sitting on the floor. 

She has no goddamn furniture. 

“Love what you haven't done with the place,” Shaw calls out, announcing her presence to Root, who flinches and then smiles bashfully to the wires in her lap. As it turns out, the Machine was in Shaw's favor this evening. It's a rare occurrence to find Root so off guard, with her hair pulled into a loose bun, with little smudges of soot on her shirt and holes in her blue jeans. 

Her walk is still the same, smug saunter as it always is though. Root lets her hair down as she approaches, on purpose Shaw thinks. 

“Welcome. May I take your coat?” Root offers, and Shaw does a bit of casing as she slips her arms free of the sleeves.

It was inaccurate to say Root didn't have any furniture; there's a mattress lying in the middle of the floor beside a steel column. Root had thrown some sheets and pillows on top and called it a bed. Next to that, her other Root things. A laptop, a bag, a few articles of clothing and a cell phone playing the music Shaw had heard earlier. 

“Is that for me?” Root asks, nodding to the bottle of wine in Shaw's hand. 

“Yeah, but uh,” Shaw rubs the back of her neck, glancing again at the great empty space. “I feel like I should have brought a plant or something, or a chair.”

“Busy week,” she says, internally debating where to hang Shaw's jacket, for a moment, until deciding to just throw it on the floor. “Haven't been home much lately-” and then Root laughs, lightly to herself. “It's strange isn't it?” 

“What is?” Shaw asks, halfway to the kitchen for a pair of drinking glasses before she realizes, Root probably doesn't have any of those either. 

“This place, my place... It is supposed to feel this weird?”

“Don't worry, the charm wears off pretty quick. Eventually, it'll be just another Tuesday night where you store all your things.” Shaw flops down on the edge of the mattress. “Correction, thing.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you.” Root teases. 

“Awfully rude of you, not owning a couch.” There are worse problems than not having a proper place to sit. “I'd guess you don't have cork screw either, or is that me being presumptuous again?”

Grinning, Root ambles to the spot next to Shaw on the mattress. “You'll have to use your imagination, sorry. I didn't think you'd bring anything fancy.”

The label is the only fancy thing about this wine, an Italian sounding word, Shaw thinks it means something like hat. The price tag said twelve, but she got it for six. 

Shaw flicks open her pocket knife and stabs it into the cork with a twisting motion. 

Root leans back and lounges on her elbows. “I did buy something yesterday, now that I think about it.”

“What?” Shaw asks, straining with the knife and the cork that wont budge.

Root nods. “That.” and Shaw looks in the direction. Hanging on the opposite pillar is a crudely sketched portrait. Of Shaw.

“Um, where did you get that?”

“From the man in the park,” Root replies, like it's supposed to mean something to Shaw. “Fun fact, he used to be police sketch artist until he injured his hand in a tragic trout-fisting accident. Anyways, if you pay him twenty dollars, he'll draw anyone you describe.”

Thankfully, Shaw gets the bottle open by then. The horrible taste of it helps her forget she ever heard the words trout-fisting back to back. “Hope you like cork in your fancy wine,” Shaw says and passes it on. “My eyebrows are off, by the way.”

“Hmm...” Root cocks her head the side, “I still like it.” She takes a swig from the bottle and grimaces almost instantly. 

“You know, you don't have to drink it,” Shaw says, laughing at the sour look on Root's face from the cheap wine. She has to run to the kitchen sink to wash her mouth out, it's so bad.

“Wanna see something cool?” Root asks when she returns and Shaw throws her a wary look. The last time Root tried to show her something cool, she ended up with stitches. 

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

“No?”

“Then no.”

“Just close your eyes,” Root insists. “Please..”

“Fine.” and Shaw covers her eyes, however, she checks for any sharp objects in Root's hands and in the immediate vicinity first. Patiently, she waits on the bed, listening to Root as she scampers around in her bare feet, for a moment until there's a loud click and the main lights go off.

Shaw opens her eyes... winding up the steel columns and along the rafters high above the bed, Root's hung strings of lights. Of all shapes, sizes and colors, they're arranged in way that makes Shaw feel like she's sitting inside a Christmas tree. 

“So this is what you've been doing?” Shaw smirks to herself. The order of Root's priorities are a mystery to her.

“Livens the place up,” Root says, looking up with a kind of awe in her eyes, or maybe it's the light glowing from the red bulbs. 

Root joins her on the bed again. Their legs hang off the edge, their feet occasionally running into each other.  

Shaw takes another swig of the wine, biting at the taste. “So um, does this count?” she asks, and when Root turns to her mixed, she has to awkwardly clarify. “Is this part of that quality the Machine says we don't have enough of?”

Root says nothing, she just grins.

“Why not?” Shaw goes on the defense. She showed up, she brought the wine, she looked at the pretty lights and they're talking. If that isn't quality time, then what is? “I really think you should reevaluate-” and suddenly, Shaw is rendered speechless by Root, who grabs her face and kisses her. 

“That's why,” Root says, giving Shaw a quick peck on the lips before pushing her down on the bed and climbing on top. 

And Shaw doesn't protest either, when Root starts unbuckling her belt, she's beginning to think this may fall under another made up category in Root's head. Something along the lines of fun time. 

“But if your so worried about it, Sameen,” she says, leaning in as she pins Shaw's wrists above her head, “You can come by tomorrow. I'm going to Ikea.”

[tarot-fumblings]

A tarot reading: reconciliation with a loved one

Last night I was drunk. And sad. And grieving over the cancelation of my favorite tv show. And my heart was aching, torn apart, pulled in too many directions. I felt like: I need to make room for this work of art to take root in my own heart. I felt despair that I live in a world where true artistry gets killed and feminine voices get silenced. I felt depressed and sad and I was starting to have a panic attack.

I chose to do this spread of reconciliation with a loved one because that’s exactly how I feel about the loss. I feel like I have been torn from someone I love… whether it’s the characters or the narrative or their archetypes and what they represent. Without this cultural touchstone I would have felt so much despair in recent years and this show was like a map helping me navigate the dazzling darkness.

So I did this spread.

I shuffled the deck five times, one for each of the five movements.

And I pulled these cards, in my drunken sadness.

I pulled them upside down, which made sense to me because everything felt upended.

And I was amazed.

(Notes based on Modern Tarot by Michelle Tea)

You: The High Priestess

The most mysterious, radical and feminine card in the Tarot… to me I saw this and knew immediately that it signified the Angel energy inside of me…

The tapestry behind her is in part a glyph for the Tree of Life… hugely meaningful to me because of my obsession with Avalon and my work on Lumi Island.

If the High Priestess has come to you it means stillness is called for. I don’t have all the information. More will be revealed. Stay calm. This slow reveal of deep knowledge will enhance the situation.

Grow in my own power.

Your Loved One: The Seven of Pentacles

This cards also calls for rest and reassessment. The figure has stopped working and is considered their progress.

Since this card represents the place of “my lover” ie “the story I love” then I was astounded to consider that maybe the story itself, in its esoteric muse-form, needed to step back from culture and allow the seeds of its wonderment to germinate within culture. Too much too soon isn’t always a good thing. We need to till the soil of our hearts and get stronger to make a difference moving forward.

The Challenges: The Nine of Swords

This is how I feel so acutely about the imminent death of the story I love. We are all fighting to keep it from being cancelled, but the final death is looming so terribly and assuredly on the horizon. Well. It already happened. It’s already been killed. Only a series of supernatural movements done with perfect feeling could bring it back to life at this point.

This card also represents violence against women. Which feels acutely appropriate.

And it challenges me to assess whether my distress is real or blown out of proportion.

The Future: The Empress

The core of the Empress is connection. Wow. Just wow. Not only is the Empress connected, but all of her connections run deep. She is connected in ways we all long to be but that often seem somewhat out of reach.

The earth is her home. When I read that I was like: whoa. She belongs here. The angel and the story belong here. As do I. I was reminded of the poetry of Mary Oliver, how sublime truths are uncovered through mundane experiences. I felt strongly that a certain ordinary holiness was being revealed. And reaffirmed.

The earth gives us everything we need for basic survival.

The Solutions: The Devil

As soon as I saw this card I knew it had Hunter’s energy in it.

At first I thought it meant I needed to lean into my inner bitch energy. But I’m not so sure about that.

Modern Tarot says that when the Devil arrives, it’s time to get serious. I am under a spell of a lie and its consequences for me will be real. The hardest part is how likely it is that I have no idea that what I’m believing in so fervently and spending so much energy on is a dangerous falsehood.

That gives me chills. That makes me so sad and makes me want to cry.

I need to do the heavy-duty soul-searching required for the difficult work of cracking the belief system or denial that’s protecting the problem. What am I doing or believing that is causing harm to myself and others?

I need to get clear about what my master is right now.

So that concludes my notes from the book. But I’m not really sure how Hunter relates to it all. I know he does. In some way. But I do feel a huge block keeping me from understanding.

Final thoughts…

My grief is so real and so palpable about the ending of this story. I also feel exhausted and tired when I think of writing my own story. I feel insufficient. I feel like I don’t have enough. But I know I have exactly what I need. I understand this, but it feels like a rumor that does not yet live in my body.

Where do I belong? How do I create stories that touch on something deep and divine? How do I tap into the deep feminine energy of the immaterial world? Or how do I find that energy present right here and now? How do I unearth this story, like excavating a narrative that is buried and waiting for us all to find it, a narrative that others have tried to bury and kill time and again?

I’m just one small voice a fumbling writer, with shabby equipment always deteriorating.

How can the parts of me that are dying in the face of overwhelming pressure… how can I keep them safe… how can I survive… how can I keep my feminine energy and instinctual stories alive?

Idk.

Right now I feel despair and like my soul is dying.

Addendum:

I tried to post all this to Tumblr and the post died. Luckily, I had screenshots of it, so I retyped it on my laptop. While doing so, I meditated on the content of the words, and I think a nugget is being revealed to me.

I believe that the lie I need to fight against is this hero/victim/villain mentality, the kind that permeates the popular stories in Hollywood, the kind that fuels our political climate. I need to detox my mind from these stories and feed my soul with older wisdom.

This will be a long road, friends.

[officialleehadan]

Procyon Moon

Andra was thinking about her ship’s navigation system in excruciating detail.

Really, there was no better way to drown a telepath than to focus hard on a detailed task that didn’t allow for any additional thoughts to sneak to the surface.

Cygnus Volans was a legend. His telepathy could reach across the galaxy if he really tried. He could rip apart a Destroyer with his mind, and had enough precognition to make shooting him a serious challenge.

He was also the leader of the Blood Star Mercenaries, renowned for their psionic abilities and their truly, shockingly, high price tag.

Senator Ursa had brought him along as heavy-handed insurance to make sure the peace treaties between the Edge worlds and the Inner worlds went smoothly.

Probably for the best. An assassination attempt wouldn’t be a bad option, and Senator Ursa was one of the most influential senator of the era. If he died here, the Edge Revolution stood a real chance of overthrowing the Inner World Consortium.

But that wasn’t Andra’s concern. She was a pilot, and mechanic, and a decent hand on a fight, but political assassination was a little above her pay grade.

For now, she was thinking about her navigation system. Specifically, the programming console, which had been buggy for the last few solar weeks.

Low laughter caught her attention, and she looked up to meet the odd grey-green-gold eyes of the very man who was the cause of her mental preoccupation.

He was watching her, and there was suddenly a polite tap on her mind, like a request for admittance.

(If you expect me to believe you haven’t been reading my mind this whole time, she thought casually, and imagined a door opening up a crack. If he really wanted in, her low-grade telepathy wasn’t going to keep him out. It was nice that he was being polite. (You’re somewhat deluded.)

He snorted in amusement and his lips curled up at the edges. People, including Ursa, looked at him, and were largely ignored.

(Of course I was,) he replied in a lighter mental ‘voice’ than she had expected from a man his size. (But you’re the first person here to pick a preoccupation that is actually interesting.)

(Interesting, but not effective?) she fired back, dismayed. She had hoped the detailed thought project would be enough. (Damn.)

Probably she should be more upset, but honestly, she hadn’t really expected it to work all that well. It was decent for chasing low-level telepaths out. Cygnus Volans was nobody’s idea of low-level

Although apparently picking a unique topic was distracting enough to derail him. That was... interesting.

(You aren’t very afraid of me,) he noted curiously as he prodded at her thoughts. Andra imagined a flyswatter coming down on his fingers in vivid detail, and he had to fight back laughter again. (That was rude.)

(So is digging through my mind without permission.)

(You allowed me in.)

(Only because you might blow the door off the hinges if I didn’t.)

She accompanied that with more vivid imagery, this time of a cheap screen door falling off the hinges on its own and then spontaneously lighting on fire.

Ursa glared over his shoulder when the feared leader of the Blood Star Mercenaries started laughing behind him. The negotiations were at a particularly sensitive, and solemn, moment.

“Apologies,” Cygnus excused himself as he got himself under control. “An errant thought. Nothing more.”

(Rude,) Andra said cheerfully, confident he could still hear her. (Aren’t you supposed to be protecting him?)

(If someone doesn’t get to killing him soon, I’m going to have to do it myself,) he replied with a decidedly put-upon huff of annoyance. (Although it might be difficult to get paid if I kill him in front of all these witnesses.)

(You don’t care about the peace?) That was an odd thought. The revolution had been underway for nearly fifteen years. She had thought everyone had a stake in it. (Why not?)

(I’m a mercenary and I live on a space station,) he said, with the mental equivalent of a shrug. She eyed him from across the room, and he tilted his head just slightly in her direction. (It’s good to have work.)

(Innocent people are dying.)

(So? Unless they try to kill my Contract, they aren’t my problem and if they do, they aren’t innocent.)

Andra hid a growl. He might be able to get away with disturbing the meeting, but she was just a pilot, and definitely couldn’t.

Alarm suddenly blared across their open connection and Andra jerked back as Cygnus tensed suddenly and his mental ‘touch’ went sideways into a yawning pit. He had an iron grip on her mind, and she couldn’t figure out what happened until the images started to come, almost too fast to parse.

Across the room, Cygnus started to seize.

“What-!” Ursa said, and shot to his feet, but Andra was already moving, urgency making her bold.

“Precog!” She hollered, and elbowed her way through dignitaries and officials to Cygnus just in time to catch him as he keeled out of his chair. “He’s having an episode!”

The whirl of images threatened to pull her in, and Andra anchored herself, cursing somewhere in the back of her mind.

If this was what high-level precognition was like, she wanted none of it, thank you very much.

After a few heartbeats, she managed to get a look at some of what he was Seeing, and it left her cold.

Ships. Thousands upon thousands of ships that Andra had never seen before, that moved like angry bees and flooded towards them, so many they blotted out the sun. Behind them came bigger ships. Carriers and destroyers, each enough to dominate a planet alone.

They were coming. A force greater than anything their part of space could hold off.

Through the haze, Cygnus realized she was there, in his mind. He somehow used their connection to haul himself out of the vision and back into waking life, taking her with him.

(Thanks,) his mind voice felt fragile and shaken. That was fair. She felt that way too. (I didn’t mean to drag you in.)

Before Andra could reply, he sat up, face tight and drawn.

“Your peace treaty no longer matters,” he said into the stunned silence. “Nothing else matters except rallying our forces as fast as we possibly can.”

“Why?” Ursa asked. He, at least, was taking Cygnus seriously. That was good, because Andra still couldn’t find words for what they had seen. “What did you see?”

“Invasion,” Cygnus rasped, and his hand closed around Andra’s wrist where her hand rested on his shoulder. His finger were cold and clammy with sweat, and shook almost imperceptibly. “An invasion is coming, and they want to kill us all.”

+++

Uncollected:

Awaken History

Command.Awaken

Isle of Monsters

One Punch Man

Stonebreaker Caldera

Hot Potato, Hot Potato

Vigilante Vampire  

Crawlspace

Blood on the Walls

+++

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