Killing Sophia is her last resort, when there's no other option for eliminating the threat, and it would likely end up being "self defense." Sophia blames Emma for all her current troubles, yadda yadda betrayal, etc. Attacks her, goes shadow form every time Emma tries to hit back. Then Sophia says she's gonna go put Taylor out of her misery after she finishes dumping Emma's corpse in ABB territory. Emma snaps and makes one more desperate attack, but this time her attack is accompanied by electric foam or whatever the effect of her power is. The extreme overkill can be attributed to Emma being a fresh trigger. Nice little narrative for Emma to spin for the PRT, yes?
Faraday [Worm AU]
- Thread starter JMHthe3rd
- Start date
Killing Sophia is her last resort, when there's no other option for eliminating the threat, and it would likely end up being "self defense." Sophia blames Emma for all her current troubles, yadda yadda betrayal, etc. Attacks her, goes shadow form every time Emma tries to hit back. Then Sophia says she's gonna go put Taylor out of her misery after she finishes dumping Emma's corpse in ABB territory. Emma snaps and makes one more desperate attack, but this time her attack is accompanied by electric foam or whatever the effect of her power is. The extreme overkill can be attributed to Emma being a fresh trigger. Nice little narrative for Emma to spin for the PRT, yes?
Cut from conversation with JMHthe3rd (it seemed a shame not to share...):
Just checked out the latest update in Faraday. I have to say- I am impressed!
There was a neat balance of elements. Emma is still the queen bitch... but is putting it to use in service of what she believes to be a good cause. There is schadenfraude, but it is played in such an unconventional angle. It is so refreshing!
Yet, at the same time, there is an angle for Master/Stranger being brought up in there somewhere. Particularly because Emma has defaced herself not once now, but twice. I count the broken nose in there.
That... actually has interesting implications... do you know I actually consider Ingenue's claims of innocence to be essentially correct? This fic is an excellent illustration why.
I wonder if that is the angle you are looking for... you aren't going to go make Emma and everyone Taylor works on go off the deep end are you?
At the very least, I don't expect Taylor will entirely approve of the extremes Emma is going too...
...
I ought to mention the funny image that popped into my mind the moment I saw Madison was with Emma and co at the Principles office. That image is Emma, Taylor and Madison (or someone else like Aisha or Charlotte) filling out a team to the tune of Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl from Stevan Universe.
I recently discovered the series. A lot of surprising depth there.
Taylor, as the quiet, socially awkward, but tough one would be Garnet. Emma as the artsy, pretty, drama one- she's Pearl. With the third member being Amethyst. Who is many things, but mostly the buttmonkey who gets into the odd and embarrassing situations and accidents.
Because Madison tagging along gave me the mental image of her getting chased by dogs, and episodically soaked by a passing car and puddle, and tazing herself with her own tazer and such. Mixing in a character who gets into a lot of very mundane scrapes would be hilarious.
And I guess that idea could apply to Weaver and Jinx too, though the dynamic is less pronounced.
(Yes, I know that Amethyst is also supposed to be badass in her own right. Her role on the 'family' is still the younger sibling who gets into a lot of embarrassing situations and I loved that dynamic)
Thoughts?
Just checked out the latest update in Faraday. I have to say- I am impressed!
There was a neat balance of elements. Emma is still the queen bitch... but is putting it to use in service of what she believes to be a good cause. There is schadenfraude, but it is played in such an unconventional angle. It is so refreshing!
Yet, at the same time, there is an angle for Master/Stranger being brought up in there somewhere. Particularly because Emma has defaced herself not once now, but twice. I count the broken nose in there.
That... actually has interesting implications... do you know I actually consider Ingenue's claims of innocence to be essentially correct? This fic is an excellent illustration why.
I wonder if that is the angle you are looking for... you aren't going to go make Emma and everyone Taylor works on go off the deep end are you?
At the very least, I don't expect Taylor will entirely approve of the extremes Emma is going too...
...
I ought to mention the funny image that popped into my mind the moment I saw Madison was with Emma and co at the Principles office. That image is Emma, Taylor and Madison (or someone else like Aisha or Charlotte) filling out a team to the tune of Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl from Stevan Universe.
I recently discovered the series. A lot of surprising depth there.
Taylor, as the quiet, socially awkward, but tough one would be Garnet. Emma as the artsy, pretty, drama one- she's Pearl. With the third member being Amethyst. Who is many things, but mostly the buttmonkey who gets into the odd and embarrassing situations and accidents.
Because Madison tagging along gave me the mental image of her getting chased by dogs, and episodically soaked by a passing car and puddle, and tazing herself with her own tazer and such. Mixing in a character who gets into a lot of very mundane scrapes would be hilarious.
And I guess that idea could apply to Weaver and Jinx too, though the dynamic is less pronounced.
(Yes, I know that Amethyst is also supposed to be badass in her own right. Her role on the 'family' is still the younger sibling who gets into a lot of embarrassing situations and I loved that dynamic)
Thoughts?
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Edison_Trent
Freelancer
I don't think I could imagine any Worm characters as Steven Universe characters besides Taylor as Rose Quartz (the leadership and devotion of her followers, as seen by Pearl's PTSD levels of trauma regarding Rose's death/leaving). There's just much more depth to them than just the surface qualities and I wouldn't want to tarnish their mental image I have.
As for the show, yeah, lot's of hidden depth in Steven Universe, like Gravity Falls (and Adventure Time, but much less 'filler' than AT has), though every Ronaldo episode just makes me wish I could punch him in the face for being so annoying/idiotic.
The important thing to take away from it is that having Taylor and Emma as hero/villain characters who take themselves seriously works so much better if there's someone else there to show how it's not done. How it is not done at all.
Plus, Aisha or Madison or Charlotte fleeing a pack of dogs and tazeing themselves by accident just seems so funny...
My point was more about the dynamic.
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Narrative spin doesn't matter, Emma is Actively considering the idea of killing Sophia, and did so twice. It's only by saving grace she decided to have it as a last resort rather than the last step in her "Sophia must go" plan.
Considering what she knows about Sophia, I would not consider that an unreasonable precaution at all...
Dr. Mercurious
Strangest Person You Know
- Location
- New England
I'm really liking how this is going. It's always nice to see an Emma redemption fic since she was so brutally warped by Sophia in canon, just as it's good to see Sophia really get what's coming to her. Emma's punishment for the most part is going to be self-administered and it really doesn't look like she'll shirk that responsibility. Looking forward to moar!
Ideation: 1.4
1.4
I wasn't going to be a monster again. I wasn't. But a pressure built in me, and putting others down was the only way I knew to release it.
I let a little out today.
"Wait. Come back. I'm sorry!"
Gothapotamus stormed into the bathroom, the door bouncing off her big butt as she pushed through. I followed her inside before it could shut. She stomped over to the mirror and leaned close, her gross belly dipping into the sink, and began to touch up the pale foundation of her makeup. She wasn't crying, which I guess was good, but she looked pretty mad.
"We shouldn't have made fun of you."
"You do it every day," she said bitterly.
It'd almost been a tradition. Every time Gothapotamus lumbered past us in the hall, me, Madison and--until recently--Sophia would make our customary, Boom! Boom! Boom! footstep sound effects. She'd give us her pissed piggy look, and we'd laugh. Aside from those amusing moments, she never crossed my mind.
But today, that dirty look carried an extra edge. I'd always known we were hurting her--that was kind of the point--but it wasn't funny anymore. She might be a fat, ugly vampire girl, but that wasn't an excuse to make her life more miserable than it already was. Just by looking at her, I could tell she didn't have any friends. Maybe I could help.
"That's going to stop," I said. "We're not going to bother you anymore."
Her hooded brown eyes, darkened with too much eyeshadow, regarded me carefully.
"They say you're trying to turn over a new leaf, but I don't buy it. What's really going on?"
I took a deep breath which made my bruised nose ache. "I don't know if you've heard, but Taylor--"
"--tried to kill herself," she finished; she stepped forward until we were nearly touching. "But you should be crowing right now. After all, you're the one who ruined her life. You even warned me to stay away from her. You remember that? You said losers like her don't deserve friends. Didn't you two used to be besties? That's fucked up. And what about the locker? Everyone knows that was you. I can't even imagine how nasty that must have been."
I could. 'Nasty' didn't even begin to do that nightmare justice. My throat grew tight. I fought to keep back the tears. "I . . . I'm trying to change . . ."
"So you betrayed Sophia. Don't get me wrong: I hate that bitch. But being your BFF is a precarious position to hold. If Taylor wants a backstabber like you back, she must be suicidally desperate. I wonder how long before you grow tired of her and lock her in a septic tank?"
On some reflex, I hugged myself. "I . . . I don't want to be that person anymore. I'm going into therapy . . ."
"Oh, yeah, I heard the rumors. Something 'traumatic' happened to you, right? What, were you raped or something? Does that make you special? Is that your excuse?" She advanced, making me step back until I was against a stall door, and she leaned into my face. Her breath stank. "Let me tell you something: lots of people have gone through lots of bad shit, and they don't turn into full-out psychopaths. You're a narcissistic drama queen, Emma. You're poison. Stay the fuck away from me."
She shoved me into the stall and stormed off. I wanted to call out to her, but I didn't even know her real name. I sat on the toilet and sobbed until blood dripped from my broken nose.
Yesterday I had my first session with my therapist. He told me that when people are scared and hurting, they could do horrible things. I know that, but Gothapotamus was right: it's not an excuse.
After the alley, Sophia's philosophy of survivors and victims was like a lifeline for me, and while I know now that worldview was flawed, there'd been opportunity in her words. I could have reinvented myself. I could have carried a taser and pepper spray. I could have thrown myself into self-defense training. I could have chalked up the day to bad luck and moved on.
Instead I was an insecure coward and ruined my best friend's life.
Taylor's locker nightmare creepy-crawled through my mind, overlaying with the memory of me and Sophia giggling outside. I shuddered. I took out my phone, but she didn't need to hear me blubbering. With shaking hands, I texted her a hug.
I couldn't change who I'd been, but I could change who I was going to be. But I'd slipped with Gothapotamus. I needed to break old habits. I needed to be a New Emma.
I dried my eyes and changed into my gym clothes. I had one more period left for the day, but I stopped by the nurse's office and told them I didn't feel well. I lived several miles away, and the surrounding neighborhood was pretty rough. But unless Lung himself planned on mugging me, I didn't have anything to worry about.
I'm in decent shape, but I'm not used to running. It wasn't long before I was stooped and panting, my guts churning. Sweat soaked the splint on my nose, which ached and dribbled bloody snot as I strained to breath through the clogged nostrils. My long red hair hung in wet rat tails. I wasn't even halfway home, but I pressed on.
My world receded to the rush of wind on my face and the pounding of my sneakers on concrete. By the time I reached my house my clothes were drenched and my brain throbbed feverishly. I nearly fell over when I retched all over the sidewalk.
I staggered inside where downed a bottle of water and plopped on the living room couch, my breaths raging like a bellows. My mom cried with alarm and asked what on Earth had gotten into me. I may have mumbled something about not being weak, but I didn't bother explaining.
When I recovered enough, I went to my bedroom. I'd already destroyed all the photos of me and Sophia, but there were still the posters of eye candy boy bands and beefcake hip hop stars. I tore every one of them down, ripped them to shreds. A blue spark from my fingertips set the paper scraps ablaze in the trashcan. Smoke wafted out my open window.
Aside from two hanger bars packed with name brand clothes--a lot of them gifts from modelling jobs--my walk-in closet was crammed with boxes of toys: Strawberry Shortcake dolls and Barbies and Hello Kitty crap from when I was in junior high. I'd taken comfort in owning them, but they were frivolous, childish things. Old Emma things. I wanted to melt them, burn them, explode them, but instead I pulled out the clothes and boxes and arrayed them on the floor. Among them I found the superhero action figures me and Taylor used to play with. Those, I would treasure.
In the bathroom, while I collected my more valuable perfumes, I stopped to look at myself in the mirror. I was a mess, my round face flushed, my nose bandaged and swollen, my makeup smeared. But aside from that, I filled out my gray tanktop with nice curves, and my pale skin was flawless except for the faint freckles sprinkling my chest, shoulders and face.
It was a body that had served me well, but it was soft and weak and would tend towards chubbiness if I let it. My sister Anne was already headed that way, packing on the post-high school pounds. But I wouldn't go down that path. I would be hard and strong.
Taking good pictures took longer than I expected, so I only listed a few of the more expensive items on my eBay account. By the time I quit, my parents had left for a business banquet, so I had the evening to myself.
Our garage wasn't exactly tidy, but with the SUV still in the body shop it had a lot of room. In the corner, behind rotten boxes and draped in cobwebs, sat a pile of cinder blocks from when we had our pool deck built years ago. No one would miss them.
It was embarrassing how much I had to strain to lift the top block one handed and hold it before my face. My bicep burned; I knew I'd drop it soon. So I swirled out my purple, and with a crack of lightning the concrete exploded, the mist protecting me from the grit and gravel. I laughed. That was fun!
I smashed a few more this way before I decided to try something more elaborate. I concentrated, and the mist swept out, absorbing over and into the remaining dozen blocks. I could feel the echo of every interior crack, every embedded grain. Breathing in the ozone, I raised my hands in a dramatic arise gesture and the pile floated up as if the surrounding gravity had shut off. Blue and violet sparks crackled like electric gnats amid the blocks which tumbled slowly like cubist asteroids in a nebula. It was beautiful. I could watch it for hours.
But I could feel the drain this lifting took on me, and when I tried stacking the blocks into a tower, I lost my focus and they crashed to the floor. Cursing, I kicked at one and hurt my foot, but I had a feeling my powers would grow stronger with practice. I'd experiment more later. For now, I needed a more physical release.
One wouldn't guess it now, but in college my mom took Savate--French kickboxing. She still had a dusty old punching bag on one of the garage shelves. When I finally pulled it down, climbed a ladder and hung it from a rafter, I was again soaked in sweat. My arms and back hurt, and I felt dizzy. But to slack off now would be a step towards the Old Emma, the weakling, the traitor.
I didn't know how to kickbox, but I'd watched a few martial art movies. I wrapped gauze around my fists, put on some pulse-pounding music and began to punch, kick and scream at the swinging bag as hard and loud as I could.
A few minutes later I was holding an ice pack over my right wrist. I might also have jammed a finger. Or broken it.
Maybe I should take classes.
***
I was getting a weird sense of deja vu.
Sitting in bed with my phone to my ear, I was leaning against the wall. My room felt somehow foggy, and while I couldn't read the blurred glow of my alarm clock, I knew it must be late. A purple mist twirled slowly from my palm, the pulsing neon magenta illuminating the small packages stacked on my nightstand. I'd sold a few of my perfumes. I would drop them off at the post office on the way to school.
I'd just come back from a long road trip to Manchester, and my shins and thighs still ached from the lessons my mom had given me. I really wanted nothing more to just sleep away the next few hours until I had to get up. But I'd promised Taylor she could call at any time . . . and if she was going to call in the middle of the night, I was going to be there for her.
She hadn't told me; she said she just wanted to talk. But I could tell she'd had another nightmare. It crushed me inside knowing that she was still haunted by that locker. I really hoped the therapy would help.
"They released me today, or I guess that was yesterday now. I'll be at school in the morning. The doctor gave me a lot of prescriptions to keep track of. A couple for depression and a couple more for my narcolepsy--though for that he told me to mainly just drink lots of coffee and tea. He's also given me something for . . . for the nightmares, but later he wants to try something called 'exposure therapy.' Basically, he'll talk me through the . . . the locker. Until I get used to it. That way I won't freak out every time I . . ."
She trailed off again. I heard breaths over the phone. A lump grew in my throat.
"I'm sorry, Taylor . . ."
"I know, Emma."
"Give me the dreams. Like you did before. Let me go through it with you."
"That's not what friends do to each other," Taylor said with a sigh. "I'm not going to lie: I still have a lot of resentment. But I'm not going to hold a grudge. Do you know why? It's because you were mentally ill. And now you're better. I know this. I can taste the difference in your brain."
And I could feel the difference. Before, I was living a brittle, empty existence, as if I was cut off from my soul.
"Thank you, for that," I said. "And you can do whatever you need to do in my head. To make sure I never backslide."
"I don't think that'll be necessary, but I won't let you go bad again, I promise." She paused, and when she spoke again I could hear a smile in her voice. "But while we're on the subject of me being in your head, what do you want to dream about tonight?"
I grinned. I loved her dreams--well, not those dreams. I loved the nice ones. The ones taken from our shared memories. The ones like little adventures. It'd been a couple of days since she'd given me one. I hadn't wanted to bug her, but I was beginning to worry.
"Surprise me," I said.
She chuckled. "All right. I think you will be surprised. By the way, have you been keeping up with your dream journal?"
I cringed. "Sorry, I always forget when I wake up, and by the time I do remember, the dreams have already slipped my mind." I almost never remembered my natural dreams. Keeping my misty lamp floating in place, I crawled out of bed and took the notebook from the dresser. "I'll sleep with it in my arms. That way it'll be the first thing I see when I wake up."
"Okay, but while I can whisper dreams into you, it's kind of awkward when you don't even know you're dreaming. We can have more fun when you learn to stay lucid."
"I'll try. So far, the only thing I've used the journal for is doodling costume ideas."
"I know. I'm looking at them right now. The longcoat is badass, and purple and black are a good color scheme. But I'm not a fan of the mask. It's too reminiscent of Shadow Stalker. Though I admit I might be biased."
That made no sense. She was awake, so she couldn't be a ghost. And the notebook was closed and in my hands. Suddenly it occurred to me I was no longer holding the phone to my ear. I hadn't been for a while. So how had I been talking to her? It was then that I noticed the posters on the walls. The posters I'd torn down two days ago.
Taylor sat next to me on the bed, her Cheshire grin wider and with more teeth than humanly possible. The magenta light of my powers sparkled in her dark eyes, making them seem electric. Her eyebrows arced in a shrug.
"Surprised?" she asked.
I woke up.
Gentle morning twilight strained through my window blinds. I was holding my pillow which was wet from drool. Open on my nightstand, on top of the packages, sat my notebook. A page rose up as if on an unfelt breeze before turning over. I swept out my mist, keeping the energy low.
Taylor's pale, slender ghost floated in the purple, wavering slightly like static. One of her hands was embedded in the top of my head. Her featureless face was staring at me. She raised her other hand from my dream journal and waved.
"Sneaky," I said, sitting up.
What did you expect? I'm a ghost, said a voice inside me, playful humor radiating from the tone. And I told you I was going to do this. Remember?
And the memory came back. Earlier last night she had called me after one of her nightmares. The dream I'd just awoken from had been more or less a rehash of that. But later we'd talked about lucid dreaming, and I'd urged her to test me. Apparently, I failed.
"It was still sneaky," I said, "making me dream something so ordinary--something we'd just done. People dream 'repeats' all the time. I might have figured it out if you put me in an enchanted forest full of unicorns or something."
I didn't put you anywhere. I just worked with a dream you were already having.
"Still sneaky."
Taylor's spectral hand 'tapped' the notebook impatiently.
"Okay, okay, you win. I'll start writing down my dreams. And I'll see you at school today, right?"
I'll be there. I sensed a tinge of anxiety, and I winced a little. I didn't blame her.
I stood and wrapped her ghost in a hug. Her long, spindly arms returned the gesture. She had no substance. I felt nothing more than vaguely cool air.
"It'll be all right, Taylor. I promise."
I know, Emma. And thank you. I'll see you soon.
And her ghost evaporated, leaving me alone in my bedroom.
It was a little past six. I still had to mail the packages before school, but there still was enough time for a morning run.
***
To be continued . . .
AN: I'd like to thank Racheakt for his help with writing this. His input has been invaluable.
Next up, Chapter Nine of "Tales of the Power Armor Apocalypse," in which a butch lesbian and a homeless elf battle a giant bat mecha.
After that, Chapter Nine of "Weaver and Jinx."
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OmniTracker
Only 85% hilarious.
- Location
- Maybe on Earth, Maybe in the future.
Oh Emma. You didn't even bother to learn her real name before going to apologise. Still so very broken.
VolantRedX
Official Conscience of Worm Fanfiction!
You have to admit though Gothapotamus is a damn funny name.
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Nice to see someone bringing up how Emma seems to be deluding herself into believing Taylor will welcome her back.
At least, once she's off the cocktail of medications she's on, that is.
At least, once she's off the cocktail of medications she's on, that is.
Dr. Mercurious
Strangest Person You Know
- Location
- New England
Cross-posting from QQ
I STILL don't know if I should be going "D'aaaaaaw" or "Dear god, this is fucked up." But I lurves this to pieces
I STILL don't know if I should be going "D'aaaaaaw" or "Dear god, this is fucked up." But I lurves this to pieces
Good Lord, just reading I'm going to be a better person after all the shit she has done just makes my head hurt. Emma redemption is where she craps all over people and then we have to be tortured hearing her tell everyone she is sorry. Nobody in that school trusts her or wants to be around her.
She needs her Stockholm friend Taylor back. If she had gone to prison for what she did I could take this seriously. But THERAPY? Therapy is pretty much useless unless its used in court to make it look like punishment is given out when its not. Going to to have to give this a miss, every time I read about how NOW that everyone know it was her.........she now feels the need for therapy for something that she really enjoyed doing.
All I see from Emma is a pity party that Sasuke Uchiha would enjoy.
She needs her Stockholm friend Taylor back. If she had gone to prison for what she did I could take this seriously. But THERAPY? Therapy is pretty much useless unless its used in court to make it look like punishment is given out when its not. Going to to have to give this a miss, every time I read about how NOW that everyone know it was her.........she now feels the need for therapy for something that she really enjoyed doing.
All I see from Emma is a pity party that Sasuke Uchiha would enjoy.
VolantRedX
Official Conscience of Worm Fanfiction!
...yes typically sadists enjoy their actions. Why does that devalue her trying to stop enjoying those things. I mean a lot of drug addicts like being high, does that mean they shouldn't go to rehab?
pheonix89
Wants to be Seven Of Nine
- Location
- North American Plaguelands
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Um, you do remember this is the fic where Taylor does shenanigans with her power to get inside Emma's head? It's not think, it's KNOWS.
It's Shadowcub. I seem to recall similar bitchfits from her about Madison in Atonement and Madison and Emma in Intrepid. You know, people who had low-level psychotic breaks (because that's what a trigger from guilt is) when they realized that yes, they were the monster.
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Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Oooh right, forgot about that. Man, my memory is a damn sieve sometimes.
VolantRedX
Official Conscience of Worm Fanfiction!
Shadowcub's a girl.
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
pheonix89
Wants to be Seven Of Nine
- Location
- North American Plaguelands
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Huh, didn't know that.
Subrosian_Smithy
endless
- Location
- Washington
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Hers
What's wrong with Emma's redemption? It's not out of character, given the space magic at play here. She's still a douchebag at heart, but now she's self-aware.
Well obviously no-one trusts her. But that's not the point of redemption. No-one becomes a genuinely better person out of a desire to be popular.
Prison, really? There's a strong argument for sending her to juvie, but... prison?
What the fuck are you smoking? How do you think disturbed people get better, if not for therapy? Well-wishes?
I don't think she's going to therapy because "everyone knows it was her", she's going to therapy because she wants to stop enjoying bullying. Or at least, find another way to get enjoyment.
That's not exactly what I'm seeing, considering she's also spent the last two chapters talking about what a monster she is/was, and telling people to feel sorry for Taylor.
Emma is obviously still a bad and fucked-up person on lots of levels. But this is a first-person story, and we can literally read her thoughts. She wants to be a better person and make up for being evil, even if she has no idea how to do that.
VolantRedX
Official Conscience of Worm Fanfiction!
It's in her profile. She has it listed out right.
Fuck that's news to me. Regardless, Shadowcub does this all the time so I'm quite content in allowing...her...to continue with the tangents.
It's not like anything will change on that end anytime soon...
Edit: Also, just to put my two cents in this whole thing, Emma is still a huge bitch, but at the very least she's showing that she wants to get better.
But my worries are that she's backsliding just while she's trying to get better. I mean, she's still thinking on the Strong vs. Weak mentality.
Eventually, she's going to end up as the second coming of Shadow Stalker unless she gets some outside intervention that isn't a suicidal and traumatized Taylor.
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Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I don't check people's profiles like that!
Me neither. Pretty much too apathetic to even care about genders on any forum unless someone throws it in my face like VolantRedX did.
pheonix89
Wants to be Seven Of Nine
- Location
- North American Plaguelands
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I can't see that happening, if only because she's got Taylor in her head quite frequently, and Taylor's attitude about strong/weak is at least in canon that the strong should PROTECT the weak, not abuse them.
Fuck that's news to me. Regardless, Shadowcub does this all the time so I'm quite content in allowing...her...to continue with the tangents.
It's not like anything will change on that end anytime soon...
Edit: Also, just to put my two cents in this whole thing, Emma is still a huge bitch, but at the very least she's showing that she wants to get better.
But my worries are that she's backsliding just while she's trying to get better. I mean, she's still thinking on the Strong vs. Weak mentality.
Eventually, she's going to end up as the second coming of Shadow Stalker unless she gets some outside intervention that isn't a suicidal and traumatized Taylor.