#i feel like i have less sadness associated with fathers than with mothers

[daceytheshebear]

My Oak Leaf Dress post is getting some traction again years after it was first posted, and it got me wondering if tumblr might be more fertile groud to talk about some Arya Stark-centered analysis of mine I feel never got the attention it deserved in the westeros.org forum?

Okay, have you noticed that Arya's five chapters in AGOT have very very strong parallels to Arya’s five chapters in Feast/Dance? I've cataloged them and it blows my mind that more people aren't dissecting it. If we take into consideration that the AFFC and ADWD were supposed to one book, Arya has exactly the same amount of chapters as she had in book one, which is much less than she had in ACOK or ASOS. A pity in my opinion, as I love to read her, but I believe this is not a coincidence on Martin’s part as there seem to be several parallels between what Arya experiences in the first book and the last two. I’ll compare:

AGOT Arya I to AFFC Arya I 

AGOT Arya II  to AFFC Arya II

AGOT Arya III to AFFC Cat of the Canals

AGOT Arya IV to ADWD The Blind Girl

AGOT Arya V to ADWD The Ugly Little Girl

So, AGOT Arya I / AFFC Arya I: Both take place in a different setting from the other four chapters (Winterfell vs. Kings Landing for AGOT, the ship The Titan's Daughter vs. the city of Braavos in AFFC and ADWD). In both we have Arya directly interacting with two siblings, one who is two years older than her and whose place she would like to be able to occupy (Sansa with all her ladylike abilities, Denyo who is a cabin boy) and another who is older and more guarded and with whom she has important conversations about the ways of the world (Jon Snow and the talk about bastards and girls and Yorko and all the exposition about Bravosi culture). Quotes about Sansa and Denyo:

It wasn't fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father.

And

Denyo had taken her up to the crow's nest once, and she hadn't been afraid at all, though the deck had seemed a tiny thing below her. I can do sums too, and keep a cabin neat. But the galleas had no need of a second boy.

In both chapters we have adults who are not really happy to be in charge of Arya, who are associated with the color grey, and who frown at Arya with similar phrasing (septa Mordane and Tradesman-Captain Ternesio Terys). I'll give you the quotes:

Septa Mordane raised her eyes. She had a bony face, sharp eyes, and a thin lipless mouth made for frowning. It was frowning now. "What are you talking about, children?"

And

Arya turned to find Denyo's father looming over them in his long captain's coat of purple wool. Tradesman-Captain Ternesio Terys wore no whiskers and kept his grey hair cut short and neat, framing his square, windburnt face. On the crossing she had oft seen him jesting with his crew, but when he frowned men ran from him as if before a storm. He was frowning now. "Our voyage is at an end," he told Arya.

In one of the chapters Arya is said to be “too skinny to hold a sword” and in the other she is “too small to man an oar”. Both chapters end with Arya entering rooms where two authority figures await for her (septa Mordane and Catelyn in her room AGOT, the kindly man and the waif inside the House of Black and White in AFFC).

AGOT Arya II  / AFFC Arya II: In both chapters a long time has elapsed between Arya I and Arya II. In both chapters Arya feels very isolated from people around her (in AGOT she is mourning Mycah, angry at her father’s men who let the boy be murdered and sad that even Sansa “wouldn’t talk to her unless their father made her”, in AFFC Arya takes the other servants of the HoBaW for mutes until she hears them praying, they never talk to her and Umma, who does talk, speaks in a language she can’t understand.

In both chapters we have vivid descriptions of rich food Arya eats, which is very rare in her story because she is underfed most of the time. In both chapters Needle is discovered (in AGOT Ned sees the sword, in AFFC the waif catches Arya training).

In both chapters she has a very important conversation about lies (Arya tells her father Sansa lied about not knowing what happened at the Trident, and Ned says to her:  "We all lie" and later says that some lies are “not without honor”, meanwhile the kindly man says to Arya “All men lie when they are afraid. Some tell many lies, some but a few. Some have only one great lie they tell so often that they almost come to believe it”).

In both chapters Arya promises to obey:

“This willfulness of yours, the running off, the angry words, the disobedience… at home, these were only the summer games of a child. Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is a different matter. It is time to begin growing up." "I will," Arya vowed. She had never loved him so much as she did in that instant. "I can be strong too. I can be as strong as Robb."

In AFFC the kindly man tells Arya

“Remain if you will, but know that we shall require your obedience. At all times and in all things. If you cannot obey, you must depart." "I can obey." [...] “It takes uncommon strength of body and spirit, and a heart both hard and strong [to be a faceless man]" I have a hole where my heart should beand nowhere else to go. "I'm strong. As strong as you. I'm hard."

In Both chapters Arya is said to be beautiful (a word that is not used to describe her in any other occasion). In both words Arya explicitly refuses feminine roles (in AGOT she tells Ned she doesn’t want to be a lady, in AFFC she thinks she wanted none of the placements the kindly man offers her, with courtesans where she would “sleep on rose petals and wear silken skirts that rustle when [she] walks” or “marriage and children”).

In both chapters Arya uses rocks to save a part of herself: in AGOT she recounts to Ned how she had to throw stones at Nymeria for her to stop following and be saved from the Lannister men who would execute her (we hope Arya will reunite with Nymeria again), and in AFFC she hides Needle behind a loose stone step to keep it safe for later (we hope she will retrieve it at some point).

Another plot-point that repeats between the two chapters is the introduction of a teacher. Arya II in AGOT opens in a dinner scene in the Small Hall ends with the introduction of Syrio Forel in the same Small Hall, where Arya begins to learn water dancing. Syrio says “now we dance”. Arya II in AFFC starts with Arya reciting her list, and ends after the Waif becomes Arya’s teacher on the braavosi language and the lying game (she actively compares what she is learning now with the lessons she once had from Syrio) and then Arya finally leaves the temple, reciting her list like in the beginning (so both chapters start and finish “in the same place”) and saying she is “so happy she could dance”.

AGOT Arya III / AFFC Cat of the Canals: Okay so in AGOT Arya II, Arya assumes a “fake identity” for the first time ever! Tommen and Myrcella mistake her for a peasant boy, and she acts the part. In her third chapter in AFFC this is taken up to the next level and this is the first time her chapter title changes when she takes  the identity of Cat. Cats! Of course, Arya II in AGOT is that one chapter that is all about cats, she talks about pursuing them and she finally kisses Balerion. She then becomes Cat in her third chapter in AFFC, and reminisces about chasing cats in the Red Keep in that chapter!

There is a sense of expanding horizons in both these chapters. Arya leaves the Red Keep for the first time in AGOT Arya III, and walks back from the Blackwater all the way to the castle. In her third AFFC chapter, Arya is exploring the city of Braavos after having finally been allowed out of the temple. She is also very cheeky in both these chapters! Arya interacting with the guards of the Red Keep is hilarious, and very similar to how she acts when being her Cat persona.

Nightmares. Arya experiences vivid, terrible nightmares in both these third chapters (and in her third chapter in ASOS). In AGOT she hears her father’s voice becoming fainter and fainter in her dreams, which some have interpreted as foreshadowing for Ned’s death and as a sign that Arya may have precognitive abilities. In AFFC it’s her mother she hears screaming. Both these chapters also explore and detail the place Arya inhabits. In AGOT Arya III the Red Keep is heavily featured, and it’s described as an “endless stone maze”. In AFFC Cat takes us all around Braavos, which of course is a “crooked city” with all its buildings made out of stone.

Daenerys is mentioned!! Illyrio and Varys discuss “the princess with child” in AGOT Arya III, and tales of “dragons hatching” reach Cat in AFFC. Daenerys isn’t mentioned in any other Arya chapters.

Retelling overheard stories features heavily in both chapters. Arya tries to convey to Ned what she overheard and is casually dismissed. In Cat of the Canals, Arya is learning to actively overhear conversations and gather information and retells them to the kindly man with caution.

Bathing is also present in both chapters. Arya usually doesn’t really enjoy bathing in ACOK and ASOS, but both in AGOT Arya III and in Cat of the Canals, on the other hands, we witness Arya disrobing and cleaning her body of her own volition, getting rid of bad smells in almost ritualized cleansing. Compare the quotes from AGOT, Arya III:

She found herself standing at the mouth of a sewer where it emptied into the river. She stank so badly that she stripped right there, dropping her soiled clothing on the riverbank as she dove into the deep black waters. She swam until she felt clean, and crawled out shivering.

and AFFC, Cat of the Canals:

Down in the vaults, she untied Cat's threadbare cloak, pulled Cat's fishy brown tunic over her head, kicked off Cat's salt-stained boots, climbed out of Cat's smallclothes, and bathed in lemonwater to wash away the very smell of Cat of the Canals. When she emerged, soaped and scrubbed pink with her brown hair plastered to her cheeks, Cat was gone.

One of the most important parallels in this set of chapters regards the Night’s Watch. It is in Arya III AGOT that Arya for the first ever interacts with a black brother, when she meets Yoren. Although Arya isn’t aware of it, it was Yoren’s death that made it possible for Dareon leave Eastwatch and go to Braavos in the first place, as the singer was assigned by Jon Snow to take up the role of recruiter that used to be Yoren’s. Yoren had other roles as well, including that of Arya’s protector. The first encounter she has with each of the two black brothers show us just how much Arya has changed. She thinks of Yoren:

He was stooped and ugly, with an unkempt beard and unwashed clothes. [...] The old man in his smelly black clothes was looking at her oddly, but Arya could not seem to stop talking.

While Arya can’t stop herself from rambling to Yoren, she has learned not to share all of her thoughts by the time she meets Dareon. This is the quote:

He is fair of face and foul of heart, thought Arya, but she did not say it

Also, in both this chapters she goes blind! “She was blind.” That sentence shows up exactly like that, word for word, in both chapters. Of course in AFFC she actually becomes blind, while in AGOT she is only in a really really dark room. But still. The wording! And structurally speaking, while the last pair of chapters starts and finish “in the same place”, now both of these chapters start with a more light-hearted tone to then plunge into really dark territory, literally and metaphorically, as Arya hears the threats to her family whispered in the dark in AGOT and kills Dareon to then goes blind in AFFC.

AGOT Arya IV / ADWD The Blind Girl:

Considering AFFC and ADWD as one long long book, Blind Girl is Arya’s fourth chapter. Arya’s fourth chapter in AGOT is the one in which she gets that all-important lesson when Syrio Forel tells her to “look with her eyes”. He also touches upon her other senses though:

“The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in that way knowing the truth." 

Syrio says all that! And while Arya looks with her eyes in several moments of the story and this true seeing literally saves her life more than once, she never does explore her other senses that much… until she goes blind in ADWD. In The Blind Girl we get:

Hear, smell, taste, feel, she reminded herself. There are many ways to know the world for those who cannot see. [...] "You have five senses, learn to use the other four, you will have fewer cuts and scrapes and scabs"

Also, both chapters feature scenes where Arya in engaged in training with someone to improve her martial skills. While she practiced her needlework on her own all throughout ASOS, this is the first time she does so with someone else since Syrio in AGOT Arya IV! The way the two fights are described is incredibly similar, with the descriptions of rights and lefts and right and lefts, and the clacking sound of wood, her opponent “cheating” (coming from the “wrong” side) and there is a “sudden stinging” cut which catches her by surprise. It’s very very similar, go reread it if you don't believe me.

Another really important parallel regards skinchanging: in Arya’s fourth chapter in AGOT, Arya is helpless after witnessing the horrors that took place at the Tower of the Hand. The narration tells us “she was only a little girl with a wooden stick, alone and afraid” (the wooden stick here is her practice sword). And than, to escape, she pretends she is chasing cats… “except she was the cat now”. I kid you not, this is the exact wording used. She is the cat now, and that is what empowers her to keep going. In ADWD, when Arya is most definitely LITERALLY just a little blind girl with a wooden stick, she actually skinchanges into a cat for the first time, and that is what finally empowers her against her mentor/abuser. She “becomes a cat” in both chapters

Also, it is in The Blind Girl chapter that we learn that “the Sealord is dying”, which is comparable (both from doylist’s and watsonian perspectives) to Robert Baratheon dying, exactly what happens around Arya IV. Now a bit of a stretch: in AFFC "The Merling Queen has chosen a new Mermaid to take the place of the one that drowned. She is the daughter of a Prestayn serving maid, thirteen and penniless, but lovely." I propose the new mermaid might stand in for Jeyne Poole. While the new Mermaid is the daughter of a Prestayn’s serving maid, and we know Prestayn be a noble house, Jayne is the daughter of the Stark’s steward. Petyr Baelish, who is connected with the braavosi galley The Merling King, takes charge of Jayne, who is then a twelve year-old.The “Mermaids” are actually described to be “young maidens in the blush of their first flowering who hold [the Merling Queen’s] train and do her hair”. Of course, same as the Mermaids are being trained to become courtesans, Jeyne will be trained in a brothel to become Ramsay’s bride.

AGOT Arya V / ADWD The Ugly Little Girl: Okay, so Arya V makes me sad from the very first line to the very last. The situation is hopeless, Arya is helpless. King’s Landing is unwelcoming and claustrophobic, the people range from rude to downright mean. The people of the city likely look at her with suspicious eyes, and as much as Arya has told us she loved nothing more than to be underfoot and mingle with the common people of Winterfell, the experience in King’s Landing is traumatizing, and it ends with her father beheaded. Oh joy. In A Dance with Dragons the waif describes how people will react to the ugly little girl Arya will become after she changes her face for the first time:

"Women will look away when they see you. Children will stare and point. Strong men will pity you, and some may shed a tear."

For reasons very different than a destroyed face, this sounds very similar to what Arya experiences in King’s Landing. I find the overall tone of The Ugly Little Girl chapter to be rather analogous to that of Arya V. Arya is in the HoBaW because is certain she has nowhere else to go. Life is easier now than when she was blind, but she doesn’t feel very comfortable – and yet goes through with all that is asked of her. Though not helpless anymore, she is more hopeless than ever before. She experiences physical pain and nightmares; she is questioned and constantly told she doesn’t have what it takes to be in the only place that has been a steady roof over her head in years.

Before undergoing her magical transformation in ADWD, Arya is given a tart drink. This is the quote:

She drank it down at once. It was very tart, like biting into a lemon. A thousand years ago, she had known a girl who loved lemon cakes. No, that was not me, that was only Arya.

In AGOT Arya V, we get this:

Arya would have given anything for a cup of milk and a lemon cake,

In fact, lemons come up very scarcely in Arya’s whole story. She only thinks about the fruit in her inner monologues in Arya V and The Ugly Little Girl, both times prompted from external stimuli (there is the lemon tart she could not steal moments before she wishes for the lemon cake in AGOT, and the magical tart drink she is given in The Ugly Little Girl). The word comes up a handful of times in A Storm of Swords while Arya is in the company of Lem Lemoncloak, but the fruit not so much.

Another parallel between this pair of chapters comes in the form of Arya’s target, the binder salesman. The man Arya targets for the faceless men in ADWD is described in a way that calls back to Petyr Baelish (pointed beard, thin lips) and Yoren (a hard face, mean eyes, crooked shoulders), both of which Arya encounters in her fifth chapter in AGOT.

Eddard Starks beheading is a moment full of similarities to Arya’s “defacing” by the kindly man. This is from AGOT Arya V:

The old man shook her so hard her teeth rattled. "Shut your mouth and close your eyes, boy." Dimly, as if from far away, she heard a… a noise… a soft sighing sound, as if a million people had let out their breath at once.

and this is from ADWD The Ugly Little Girl:

"Sit," the priest commanded. She sat. "Now close your eyes, child." She closed her eyes. "This will hurt," he warned her, "but pain is the price of power. Do not move."

And of course what follows her closing her eyes in AGOT hurts much more deeply than having her forehead slashed. In A Game of Thrones, Arya opens her eyes to finally recognize Yoren. He then giver her Needle back, and drags her to a doorframe where he cuts her hair to give her a new identity, that of Arry. This is the quote from Arya V:

As the blade flashed toward her face, Arya threw herself backward, kicking wildly, wrenching her head from side to side, but he had her by the hair, so strong, she could feel her scalp tearing, and on her lips the salt taste of tears.

and this is the quote from The Ugly Little Girl:

She sat unmoving. The cut was quick, the blade sharp. By rights the metal should have been cold against her flesh, but it felt warm instead. She could feel the blood washing down her face, a rippling red curtain falling across her brow and cheeks and chin, and she understood why the priest had made her close her eyes. When it reached her lips the taste was salt and copper.

That's it! If you are interested in a more in-depth analysis check my original post from (five!!) years ago .

[acourtofthought]

Is it possible sjm changed her mind since that interview long ago about elain and lucien healing together? I noticed that ACOWAR showed clear signs that sjm was still going for elucien and that azriel barely had any setup as a character. Yes, we got a lot of him, but he was not a prominent character in a way Lucien was. With Lucien, we learned about his heritage and a bit more of his past. We even got inside of his head. But in acofas, there was a shift. We went from Elain defending Lucien in front of Graysen and smiling at Lucien's joke to her ignoring him and avoiding him completely. Azriel also gained a lot more prominence while it feels like Lucien faded into the background in a way. This sounds silly, but the idea of sjm abandoning a perfectly good Day Court plot in favor of a forced forbidden lovers storyline between Azriel and Elain is honestly terrifying.

It's definitely possible!

But since in the same interview she spoke of Nessian ending up together and they did in fact end up together, it's also possible Elucien is endgame as she once envisioned them to be.

I do agree with you that Lucien got a whole lot of buildup in ACOWAR (even before that, his character has been prominent since book 1) and we had a lot less of him in ACOSF but there is a logical reason for that.

Lucien doesn't belong in the NC. He glanced at Elain / "I'm not needed here. I'll fight if you need me to, but..."

And though he went back to Velaris because Elain invited him at the end of ACOWAR, we find out that she's regressed in the novella and no longer engages with him so again, he's got no reason to stick around as he was really only there for her.

Even that's not a big deal because Nesta pretty much confessed her feelings for Cassian in ACOWAR then started ignoring him and got together with many other males in the novella. Elain sharing a few glances with Az and a near kiss is tame compared to what Cassian had to accept as Nesta worked through things.

But with that said, why would Lucien be prominently featured in a Nesta and Cassian book when neither of them are close to Lucien? In fact, prior to SF, Nesta was very antagonistic towards him.

A book set in the Night Court with members of the IC are going to feature.....mostly Night Court characters and members of the IC.

And yes, Az got a lot of build up in SF because he's Cassian's best friend. Is there any other male that would make sense to be as heavily featured in Cassian's book than Az? Especially when Rhys's arc is technically over?

And if you think about it....how much more buildup could Lucien have before he actually gets a book?

When you look at the the buildup Az had in the novella and SF it boils down to:

Az has a mother he visits, we're reminded that he hates the Illyrians even though he is one of them and always will be, there's more to Az than what we originally thought ("Az is different in a lot of ways"), the fact that he wants a mating bond and is struggling with feelings of low self worth, feeling guilty for the things he does, and a hinted at (but not confirmed) mating bond with Gwyn.

The buildup Lucien has had since book 1 is:

His father and brothers were responsible for the death of Jesminda and though he pretends he has, he's never forgotten what they did to her. / He's not allowed into Autumn to see his mother (and he's her favorite child). / Beron abuses his mother and his brother and once again sent his others sons out to attack Lucien while he was fleeing Spring / SJM tells us Eris is looking at Lucien with sadness and regret in ACOWAR. / The big reveal that Helion is Lucien's real father. / That Lucien is not only Helion's sole heir but is showing the dominance associated with a High Lord coming into power. / Lucien no longer has a real home to call his own, he's basically a drifter between the human lands, Spring and the NC and feels sadness over Spring not turning out the way he expected. / His friendship with Tamlin that's in limbo. His SA from Iantha that he hasn't gotten to address / A bond that snapped but has been unaccepted for two years and something that causes him actual suffering while always having to fight his instincts. / Feeling like he's "nothing".

We've got Lucien needing a home, needing to discover his heritage, needing an answer on his mating bond, needing to discover his powers, needing to reconnect with his mother and his brother, needing to restore his friendship with Tamlin, etc. The only thing left to do with Lucien is to resolve all these open ended plots for him and that can't happen until his book (it's not going to happen in a NC book).

When you add all of that into the clues SJM left for Elain belonging in Spring with her scent like Spring, with NC Black sucking the life out of her no matter how much she claimed to be part of the court, with members in the NC trying to prevent her from doing the things the offered to do, I think it's fairly clear that Elucien is on track as scheduled.

[teecupangel]

I'm looking at all the "Desmond's sad familial situation" posts here and... Let's fix it a bit, shall we? I mean, insomuch as it's possible in AC 'verse. Potential parental figures for Desmond (cause Isu bullshit, Sage bullshit, time travel shenenigans, etc): Hades, Aita, Sigurd, Hytham, Machiavelli, Shay Cormac

Me at seeing Hades and Aita on the list: ……… yeeaaahhh, they’d probably be better fathers than William Miles.

So let’s tackle each one and see how we can set them up:

Hades:

Hades in AC Odyssey is a dick BUT he does love Persephone. (Persephone though… that’s another story). So, in this setup, let’s say Desmond is Hades and Persephone’s child. Now, they’re commonly known to have two children: Zagreus and Melinoë.

Zagreus would be fun because there are records that state he isn’t Hades’ son but Zeus’ (Tinia) (Melinoë too but that’s because the Orphics believe that Zeus and Hades are the same god). And his death was orchestrated by Hera (Juno) where he was torn to pieces but Athena (Minerva) managed to save his heart which he gave to Zeus. From that heart, Dionysus was born. A little bit of AC Isu-ness sprinkled in this story and we will have an easy “Desmond is actually the Sage of Zagreus” setup instead. Juno had Zagreus killed because Tinia was planning to have Zagreus join them as part of the Capitoline Triad and Juno assumed she was going to be kicked out, not realizing that Tinia’s plan was for him to step down and let Zagreus take over his projects. Minerva (his aunt/half-sister) managed to save his ‘heart’, putting him in a prototype version of the ‘Mead’ and that’s how she changed course in terms of preparing for the Solar Flare. In this scenario, we can also add that Desmond’s main three ancestors (and Edward as well since he died before his grandson was born) were the Sages of Zagreus.

For Melinoë, there are a lot of similarities between her and Hecate. In this setup, Desmond was reborn as Melinoë and she’s Hades and Persephone’s daughter. To make it more interesting, Hades isn’t sure if she’s really his daughter as there are rumors that she might be Zeus’ daughter instead. Because of this, Hades is distant but gives her anything she wants. Persephone doesn’t like her and ignores her so the one person who is actually her usual companion is Hecate. This will setup a more ‘caring aunt that may have an agenda of her own’ Hecate and Desmond/Melinoë relationship.

Another child that is supposed Hades’ (and Persephone’s according to the Orphics) is Macaria. Not much is known to Macaria other than she’s associated with ‘blessed death’ so this is the setup where Hades will be the doting father to her either because he’s sure she’s his daughter or maybe because she looks a lot like Persephone. She can have whatever she wants and can do whatever she wants as long as she does not leave the Underworld.

Regardless of which child Desmond is reborn as, the main plot could probably be: leave the Underworld to find his ancestors who should be in Elysium, maybe pretend to be visiting dear sweet mother.

Aita:

We’re basing this on the idea of him being Aita and Juno’s biological son which we have covered here.

For all the less than savory (to put it mildly) things Juno and Aita have done, they still loved their son as much as an Isu can love their offspring because he’s a product of their love.

So they would definitely spoil him and, really, the only real problem they have with their son is that he tends to be nice to the slaves.

All the while, Desmond is so, so confused by what’s happening and he’s trying to pretend to be a dutiful son because he doesn’t want Juno and Aita to realize something is wrong but this also means that he’s kinda, sorta, enjoying all the affection? It’s a really, really strange complicated feeling, that’s for damn sure.

Sigurd:

Desmond is Sigurd and Randvi’s son that was born after Sigurd left to raid the lands east of their home. He’s really Sigurd’s son and no one disputes that. He would grow up being cared for and loved by the clan, especially Eivor who is both just happy to be with her nephew and also wants Desmond to not feel the loneliness she felt when her parents died.

Then Sigurd returned from his 2-year voyage and he starts spoiling him to make up for the 2 years he had been gone. Desmond both loved and is embarrassed by the attention. He keeps staring at Basim and Hytham because ‘hidden blades! Holy shit, hidden blades! What the fuck!!!’ and everyone assumed that he’s fascinated by them.

Insert a bit of Basim being fatherly with Desmond because he reminds him of his son (and yes, we can overly complicate this and add more soap opera level drama by making Desmond be Fenrir’s Sage as well if you like)

Desmond growing up in Ravensthorpe and being a regular visitor to the Hidden One bureau which will give us big brother!Hytham moments.

Of course, this is Sigurd, and Dag and Basim exist so this will also have Dag telling Sigurd that Eivor is trying to replace him as Desmond’s parent (which is bullshit) and Basim is also being a bit creepy with him because what better way to take his vengeance than to make Sigurd (who he believes is Odin) feel the same pain of losing a cherished son?

Hytham:

Soooo… my EivorxHytham heart wants to make Desmond their child but a more reasonable/believable idea would be that Desmond was born after Eivor left for Vinland for Odin knows why (seriously, fuck you, last chapter) and Desmond’s mother is… let’s say an NPC we’re going to kill during childbirth. XD

This would be more about Desmond growing up as the son of a mentor (red flag right there) and having him compare Hytham to William Miles a lot. Hytham being a single father would also force him to take care of Desmond as much as he can but he will have the support of his acolytes and Assassins.

Desmond would grow up in Ravensthorpe during the changing time in England. But, more importantly, he will grow up in an environment so similar to the Farm but different in all the right ways as well.

If you want to add Eivor in this, Desmond could end up going to Vinland, not to find Eivor but to go to the Grand Temple. Maybe have Eivor see him and go “Hytham?” and they start to become close the longer Desmond stays in Vinland.

Machiavelli:

Well, according to the internet, he did have a lot of children and it seems like none of them are mentioned in his Wikipedia page? I had to get their names from this site

Since Machiavelli married Marietta Corsini in 1502 (no month), the earliest Desmond could be born is on late 1502 (December 21, 1502 perhaps? Hahahaha).

This would mean Desmond would be born during Borgia rule in Roma and be stuck in Firenze which… okay, he understands he can’t do anything to help since he’s a goddamn baby but still… he wants to be with Ezio.

Machiavelli would be strict, especially with Desmond who will be his oldest son. He would also know something is strange about him, especially once Desmond shows his skills even at such a young age.

Also, making Desmond be born around 1502~1503 means he would be too young to accompany Ezio in Constantinople which gives us the excuse of making this Machiavelli-centric instead of, well, Desmond running away as soon as he can to be with Ezio because he’s dumb like that. XD

Shay:

…. We have the perfect storm to make this the angstiest fic we can make by ensuring Desmond is born after Shay becomes a Templar. To be more specific, Desmond is born around the same time as Arno.

And the day Shay kills Charles Dorian, Arno, and Élise had another playmate: Desmond (who just wanted to relax near the tables full of food but Élise is a persistent little girl and Desmond doesn’t really want to be mean to a girl)

Desmond grew up thinking Shay is a wandering Assassin. He definitely looked the part. So when he learned that Shay is actually a Templar, he’s torn. He loves him as a father but, at the same time, he knows that Shay believes in the Templar cause and… He can’t. He just… he can’t.

So runs away once more.

To Ratonhnhaké:ton.

Of course, there’s a lot of eyes on him, thinking this may be a trap or that he’s planning something but Ratonhnhaké:ton accept him. There’s something about him that just… makes Ratonhnhaké:ton trust him.

So, in this scenario, Desmond does have a happy childhood with Shay but he still chooses to be with Ratonhnhaké:ton because, well, Shay being a Templar is a red flag.

Then Ratonhnhaké:ton received a letter from the Parisian Brotherhood requesting his aid because Shay Cormac has taken over the Parisian Rites after the death of its two last Grand Masters.

Desmond joins Ratonhnhaké:ton because he can’t leave Ratonhnhaké:ton’s side and ends up meeting Arno has been become a Master Assassin and have returned from his self-imposed exile after the death of the love of his life.

And Arno remembers Desmond being the child they played with when his father was killed. He and Arno are around the same age so they get paired up for missions a lot and this ends up making things more complicated when Arno later finds out that Desmond is Shay Cormac’s son, the son of the man who killed his father.

Then there’s Shay who thinks Desmond has been misled by the Assasins and is trying to get him back.

Add in the drama and the slap on the face on Shay’s part once he realized that Desmond is loyal to the man who killed Haytham Kenway.

And we have… one of the most convoluted soap opera drama level fic idea… at the moment...

[shortpplfedup]

Welcome to Jojo's BL mafia lakorn, where the tropes are plentiful, the setup is delicious, the cinematography is outstanding, and Phuwin is making a solid argument for being one of the top 5 young male actors in GMMTV. In this episode, we're introduced to the Kiattrakulmethee mafia family and their associated friends, retainers and hangers-on, and we enter their world. Our cast of key characters...

NEUNG, NEUNGDIAO KIATTRAKULMETHEE

Jesus Christ Phuwin, come back here with my wig. In the pantheon of poor little rich boys, Neung may just be one of the saddest. In the aftermath of his father's murder right in front of his eyes, he's buttoned it up to an alarming degree, but the deep sadness, fear, uncertainty and yes, barely controlled rage he's feeling are bubbling right under the surface. Neung might be young but he's no fool; he understands very well that his mother may still be there, but for all intents and purposes his father's death has left him alone in a world surrounded by jackals. The poor kid can't shoot for shit but he's got that gun in his fricking bedside table anyway, because if his dad's dead it's only a matter of time before they come for him too, right? And unlike his dad, he has no intention of not seeing it coming. When Palm is put in his orbit, he knows enough to know that a bodyguard won't save him, but a friend might. Palm is an outsider, and the only person in his life who wasn't his father's first, so while he doesn't trust him yet, he's got a better chance allying with him than with anybody else.

And Phuwin...what can I say about Phuwin as Neung? The watchful eyes, the careful manner, the soft yet palpable bitterness...I don't think I've ever seen him play a character like this before. It's a whole different side of him, and so far it's giving.

PALM, PANNAKORN JANNALOY

There is a LOT happening here. When we meet Palm, he is not carefree exactly, not by any means, but he's accepted what his cares are likely to be. It's obvious that his father is the last person he expects to see, far less with a proposition that will change the course of his entire life. And he seized it. One day he's staring down life as a fisherman and labourer, the next he's living in a mansion in Bangkok, going to an international school, preparing for university and all the while feeling like he has absolutely no right to be there, and also that there's a target on his back. The pool scene is so instructive; Palm sneaks out to use the pool in the middle of the night, because he absolutely couldn't resist but is equally certain that he isn't allowed (did he ask or just assume that I wonder? Both options throw up VERY interesting questions). When Neung catches him, he's pleading, almost begging Neung not to tell his father, but he doesn't seem nearly as worried about what it means for Neung to catch him there. Neung is his boss, but more importantly Neung is his charge. Neung is his responsibility but that comes with a duty of care that he's not sure how to navigate with Neung so far above him. So Palm becomes a silent shadow; he can't tell Neung what to do, all he can do is watch his back while he does it.

Pond is doing a lot of interesting things here with Palm so far that bode well. I was most concerned in this whole cast with whether Pond would be able to pull this role off, because he's going to have to carry a lot. Palm has a lot of trepidation about what he's doing, especially because he's doing it in this world that he doesn't know how to navigate at all, but he knows is dangerous enough to get him killed. At the same time, his world is opening up in ways he never could have fathomed (again, the pool, and how he can't resist the lure of just having a pool at your disposal). He's dazzled by the bright lights, conscious of them being a distraction from his duty, conscious of the threats lurking in the shadows they create, but he still can't help wanting to reach out and touch them. It's a tightrope to walk as an actor, to convey that sense of knowing the stove is hot but still being compelled to touch it anyway, without tipping over into portraying your character as reckless. Pond so far is walking it.

THANYA KIATTRAKULMETHEE

Less Lady Macbeth and more the White Queen, beset all around by enemies, and fixed on holding the throne for her son but also maybe for herself? I didn't expect to be so gripped by this character, but somewhere around the time she strutted down that hallway in that red capelet tunic and turned an icy stare on the reporter who dared imply a criminal empire underpinning their legit one, I was in.

KIT, SUPHAKIT KIATTRAKULMETHEE

If Thanya is Elizabeth Woodville, then Kit is Richard III. Little brothers in dynastic stories are a necessary evil; the 'heir and a spare' principle lives forever. But they always cause so much trouble because the balancing of power, resentment and trust is delicate. Even if they don't betray you, there are always enemies willing to use them as either a weak point or lightning rod. I don't think we have to worry about outsider motives in this tale though, Kit giving Neung that creepy hug said it all.

BEN

Because of the story we're aware of being in, we don't know what to make of Ben yet. But I think it says a lot that while Neung is responsive to Ben's overtures, Palm is the one he asks to be his friend. We know from the trailers that Neung and Ben do have a romantic relationship, and it could just be a coincidence that Ben chooses now to reach out to Neung, but it also could not be. We see from Neung's interactions at school that he only appears to have one defender, but even that person wants something from him, and you question whether he stands up for him because he sees a benefit in Neung seeing him as an ally, or whether he genuinely cares. I think right now, Neung sees Ben in largely the same light.

CHOPPER KIATTRAKULMETHEE

Listen, I love Perth, and I am so excited to see what this character is all about, but he has not yet said one word, and has had roughly 10 seconds of screentime so I'm gonna reserve my comments. He looks good. That's it.

So the board is set. Let's play.

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

Rank the routes fave to least fave?

Sam, Matthew, James, Erik, Damien, Diana, Suzu/Naomi, Andrew.

⚠️Spoilers for all games ahead⚠️

I love and appreciate all of the routes. I love MOST of the characters.

Sam and Matthew are close to tied route wise. I love Sam's because his freaking character development between the two games is INCREDIBLE and the good and bad ending always manages to make me tear up. Both good endings are bittersweet, which is heartbreaking and poetic at the same time. One of them has to give up something important for the other and is more than willing to do so.

Matthew's route for me is also very engaging, and we see him become more than "The boy who wants to make everyone happy" as the game progresses to the second game. We really see the toll of being infantilized your whole life can take on you. Plus, evil Matthew is hot, which doesn't hurt. He literally kills his mother for MC, despite loving and caring for her deeply.

James and I have a love hate relationship. Sometimes his superiority complex pisses me off and sometimes I think it's hot. Idk. BUT his bad ending in the last game is a tearjerker, (who am I kidding, they all are.) and I love the way Angels were implemented. Character wise, he didn't have as much development as others, but his story makes up for it.

Erik's route is very interesting to me. Character wise, out of the boys, he is my least favorite. Don't get me wrong, I love him but if I had to choose a least favorite it would be him. But route wise, I really appreciate the way Michaela implemented the effects of his mother's teachings. He seemed to develop a lot, slowly becoming his true self. I also really liked Oribels plot. As sad as it is, I think it was cool that Diana's sister was included. Because of Oribel, some of Erik's deep rooted self-esteem issues were made more obvious, which wasn't as obvious in the first game. Erik lives to please his partner and can't do that if his partner is disgusted by him. (He literally ask MC "Are you disgusted by me?" )Oribel is a literal baby who associates Erik with the Demon lord and doesn't understand why MC doesn't do the same and wants to change MCs mind. (The vision of the demon lord walking into the room when it was Erik) Oribel doesn't understand the fact that Erik isn't like his father and wants MC to feel the same. I also liked Oribel possessing the demon lord. She was an angry child who felt betrayed by her sister who promised to protect her and doesn't understand that she was trying. Because she is a child. The ending is really sweet too.

Damien is sweet, has an incredible amount of character development (Unpopular possibly, but less than Sam in my opinion.) and his story is so devastating. For me though, it was harder to navigate his route in the second game and not in the same sense as the others. My main issue though is the fake sex plot. If you've ever played the complete story version of his route, which was the newest version of the games, there is no lie on MC's part. He gets the explicit choice to sleep with Diana, says yes, comes back, is "human" and everything is good. There is no trying to hide the fact he knows about the deal, because he was involved. In the original version, he waits God knows how long to tell MC that, not only does he know, but she has been beating herself up over nothing. Now, in the complete story version, he waits God knows how long, waits for her to admit that she wishes there was another way to make him human, then tells her he didn't have sex with Diana. It just really makes me uncomfy that he waited for MC to feel uneasy to say, "Oh yeah, that didn't actually happen." You know? That conversation could've been had the same day. I love that he was given the choice but hate that he lies.

Dianas route in the first game just doesn't hit the same as the other demons. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE Diana and she was absolutely part of my queer awakening. But her route just isn't my favorite. I find it weird that Diana is saying "I will take your memories, even if you must die for me to do so." and MC is like "Nu uh, I want you." I found it weird that she was the one trying to take them in the first place, wouldn't the angels be doing that? It just felt like more of a "Fuck you" to the boys than anything. There is also some confusion with her episode for me. Like, when exactly did that happen? Anyways, I definitely preferred her route in the second game more. That being said, I hate the possibility of being the cause of Siana not happening. I love the poly ending, and I was pleasantly surprised. I just hate to make Searo jealous. Being with Diana when she found her family is heartbreaking. (For me it also shows that MC isn't at fault for her family dying in the other routes but that is a rant for another day) Diana is such a badass in this, but I don't know it's just too difficult to navigate for me. I like it, I just didn't enjoy it as much as the others. Its also weird that she knew this lady for days and just left her whole life to live in the demon world. She knew Sam for years, she knew Diana for what, a week?

Naomi/Suzu's routes are just boring for me. I like the characters to an extent, but meh. It also breaks my heart that you can't let the boys stay if you don't romance one, like I so wish there was a way to let them stay without romancing them. (Like the episodes let you choose all of them, and it isn't even implied that there is any polyamorous relationship. Just Mika's found family. It makes sense that there isn't a poly ending for them, Michaela said none of them would be into the option, but I just wish she could still be their friends. It hurtttts to watch them leave.

I'm sorry but Andrew gives serial killer vibes. It doesn't help that I read The Fire in the Monster by AvabelleJune which is a fanfic, and it has ruined Andrew even more for me. I never liked him, but now I can't think of him without thinking of this story. It's on AO3 and Wattpad if you want to check it out. It's super good and I definitely recommend it. Anyway, he seems at first to be a more awkward version of MC, in the sense they have very similar backgrounds, both are set to be CEO, and just wants to be free. It is also sad that Andrew ended up CEO regardless. And his whole "What about Ace, or Axel" conversation gives me secondhand embarrassment. Him and MC also have a barely legal age gap. Hear me out, I know that the incubi and Diana do as well, but they are from another plain of existence. And while I wish the game had taken place with Mika in college, the age gap is the least of my concern for them. That would be like complaining about Edward and Bella's age gap. BUT MY POINT is that, while MC is an adult, Andrew is in a very different stage of life than her. He is in college and has a job. Mika is in high school and would still live with her parents if her father wasn't such a dick/her grandfather hadn't passed. The age gap isn't the issue, it's the fact that they are in very different stages of life. I have no issue with LEGAL age gaps until they are between a barely legal high school student and a grown man.

I hope this doesn't ruffle any feathers❤️ I got a bit carried away on my rants lol

Also, I apologize for incomplete request. There are a lot right now so they will be coming in slow. Please be patient with me🩵

[astrovagrant]

obvs my full timeline isn't done yet but the orin vibe is like. ana IS an impostor. and the feeling that orin has for her originates from hatred, but the context is entirely different from as-written durge

i'm gonna cut for big ol durge spoilers

orin as written is jealous, feeling she deserves more. she seeks to displace someone more powerful and more favored than her, to prove her worth, etc. it's a little-sister-on-a-power-trip, and while that's fun and puts the player in the position of realizing they really did suck that bad to be Top Bitch over her, i both a) want more for orin and b) need more control over anathema's origins

orin with anathema is still antagonistic but it's like - she is the pure-blooded grand/daughter of sarevok. she is an eminently skilled shapeshifter. she killed her mother and then (in my lil timeline here) the 'canon' bg/2 protag (whatever the hell his name is, though i might eventually play those games For Real rather than half-remembered watching-my-mom-play bits) for bhaal's favor and the right to lead this cult to glorious slaughter and she has been doing that for years - careful planning, for a beautiful outcome.

this orin is more methodical, more patient. she still has her moments of cackling blood-soaked glee, but i want her to be SCARY and not just unstable - she knows good art takes Time and avoiding too heavy of an eye on her group is critical. she feels, in every sense, that she both is entitled to and has also earned everything she has, and threats to her status/position will be disemboweled posthaste. to that end, i think i enjoy her being a full dread three planner way more than a revan-esque "YOU were the EVIL MASTERMIND" reveal.

enter stage left: a shambling puppet, filled with a stolen gift. she Knew something was wrong about anathema as soon as she entered the stage, and even as she saw doubt enter her sect at the arrival of another claimant to the throne, she believed her father would never favor a liar and a thief over Her. she, who has done so much for Him, in His name. when bhaal turns his eye to anathema and doesn't immediately unravel her at the seams - even tells orin that she's Actual Competition - she's seeing red, literally.

ana - even in her fucked-up state - gives her a run for her money. don't really have what the underlying goal was for this whole gambit (i'll get there ok ok - the durgening might also Not Even Happen in a fashion that there IS a 'before'-time. i have yet to decide)

regardless of When the durgening happens, orin's energies with ana upon re-meeting are a) intense b) violently taunting rather than jealous overcompensation c) knowing that ana is an Outsider, not an equal - she is prey, no matter what she's stolen. does she deserve a duel? maybe if you're good, pet. maybe if you're good.

i also think orin toys less with hostages (that's a gortash tactic - see the iron throne, yetcetera) and more with the looming and HIGHLY legitimate threat of violence and sowing distrust to shape ana's behaviors. they're playing a little mind game and ana IS susceptible, because ketheric's dead and gortash can be reasoned with (as a man who wants to maintain dominance and power, he still ultimately needs People and Things to dominate), but orin is sheer unadulterated joy in the rending of living flesh. slaughter is the journey And the destination. you can't really reason with someone like that, and ana Knows it. so when orin starts coyly bringing Other Party Members And Associated Friends into the conversation as viable alternatives for bloodshed since ana won't do what she Fucking Wants, ana IS paying attention.

what does orin want? to kill anathema, most certainly. but more directly: to reclaim what she has 'stolen', of her own volition or not. to drain and consume her.

so orin fucks with her more Directly, but always a little cheekily, flirtatiously. don't you wish you could kill me? you won't kill any of these sad little scenarios i keep giving you, but i know the lying transfusion in your veins wants to rip me limb from limb. i know you wake up almost every night with blood in your mouth because your weak mind roils against MY father's sacred visions. your blood - even stolen as it is - sings for mine because it knows it Belongs to me. it should be one with mine. you should be one with me. wouldn't you like that? you'll walk into my jaws willingly, Soon. when there is nothing left but me. when your blood leaves you no other option than to return Home.

[loud buzzer sounds as ana's 'fucked up psychosexual things to have with antagonist or antagonist-adjacent npcs' counter goes up by one]

[peccaberry]

tell me at length about your fave character(s) and why they're so blorbo to you

Rei is legally my emotional support Blorbo at this point so I'm gonna use this to talk about him for a sec ❤️

The version of Rei I vibe with most is the one that's more or less an OC I made for my fanfiction stuff! I consiter everything that happens in Legends of Arceus to be canon to him and I kind of just made up everything else other than that.

God idk where to start so I'll just list a bunch of Rei facts and shit in a sort of list order

BEHOLD, THE REI INFO DUMP:

-Rei's full name is Rei Akabane and was born in Johto to a Johtoan father and a Unovan mother. The last name Akabane loosely translates to "red feather" and is also the name of a train station in Japan!

-Rei looks a lot like his dad while his little sister looks a lot like his mom. Rei's hair has never lain flat in his entire life and it's definitely his dad's fault.

-Rei's mom is a Pokemon Trainer with a dream of eventually becoming a fire type gym leader. She is incredibly skilled and spent her younger years training by batting on the Battle Subway in Unova.

-Rei's Dad is a mild mannered engineer with a good sense of humor and a kind disposition. He met Rei's mom when he was on a work trip to Unova to help do work on the Battle Subway. He saw a crazy fire lady absolutely tearing through her battles while laughing manically and fell in love immediately. They got married a few years later and moved to Johto where Rei was born.

-Rei had a very good childhood with parents and a sister who loved him very much. When Rei was younger he didn't understand that he wasn't also the dad of his new baby sister and insisted that he was because he loved her just as much as dad. They grew up to squabble like any siblings would but were also pretty close with each other.

-Rei grew up around fire type Pokemon because of his mom and has a soft spot for them because of it. He chose Cyndaquil as his starter Pokemon because of this and still likes to wear the associated fancy kimono as his non-work clothes.

-Rei knew he was gay before he was taken by Arceus but was only out to his online friends. He really enjoyed being a part of the online LGBT community and it helped him gain a lot of confidence in himself. He was considering coming out to his parents but was taken before he could make that decision. He feels sad that he never got the chance to know how they would have responded but thinks it would have been positive.

-Rei and his family moved to Jubilife Town ~ a year before he was sent to Hisui for his Dad's job. He hadn't really made any particularly close friends there but was hopeful about the way his life was going.

-Rei's favorite hobbies are soccer and music. He took piano lessons from a young age and learned Ukulele as a fun thing to do with his dad when he was a bit older. He's pretty talented and has a good singing voice. He plays soccer for his school's team and that's where most of his friends were met.

-Rei's dream job is being a pokemon ranger and he's still big mad that it's no longer possible. He had applied to get in to the school but was taken before he found out if he had been accepted into the next semester. Justice for my boy, he could have done it.

-Rei was put in anger management therapy when he was younger because he kept getting into fights. He had a really good therapist and usually manages to keep things under control. He has an incredibly kind heart and it helps him to think about the consequences of his actions on other people and situations around him.

-Rei is really sarcastic and goofy and likes to have fun. He tries not to take things too seriously and likes to act like a moron but it is just an act. He's very much not stupid and has pretty high emotional intelligence.

-Rei struggles to sit down and read because he has both ADHD and Dyslexia. He gets around this with audiobooks but hasn't been able to listen to any since being sent to Hisui and it bums him out.

-Rei did passably in school but was nowhere near a star pupil. He did the best he could but school is not set up for people like him unfortunately. He's clever, but not in the way a school curriculum is set up to measure.

-Rei's "type" is honestly just exactly the kind of person Volo is. He fell in love so hard and fast he might as well have been competing in the homosexuality Olympics. The fact Volo never noticed is honestly really impressive on his part, the Arceus blinders were real. Rei managed to put his life back together after Volo betrayed him but never felt like he got any real closure for his feelings.

-Rei knows how to skateboard and used it pretty regularly just to get around. He can do a few simpler tricks but nothing too fancy.

-Rei's favorite kind of music is 2000s pop but he's the kind of guy who will go for any genre as long as he vibes with the song being played. He doesn't care if people think the songs are cringe, they're *his* cringe and he lives for it.

-Rei has high platonic attraction to woman and they tend to adopt him pretty quick because he's kind and never hits on them. He comes across as a guy who just genuinely wants to be their friend and hang out and it's part of why Akari got so attached to him.

[weebsinstash]

I think it is time to cute her out sweetling. She sounds like a narcissist, and from what you just trauma dumped it sounds like she likes being the victim. You shouldn't put up with that.

There is nothing you can do to help her right now or possibly ever and that burden should never have fallen to you. It's sweet you want to see her get better, but you are burning yourself to keep her happy. This isn't a situation that has a case where everyone wins.

Protect yourself first, heal yourself, and maybe someday things with her will change. But her choices aren't your problem, it's not your job to fix them, and it's not your job to give up your own health to make others happy; family or not.

Yes your sister is going through a lot and I understand wanting to help, but as someone with most of the mental health problems you mentioned (bpd, ptsd, depression, bipolar) I can with confidence say it doesn't excuse her behavior to you and your mother.

I have pitty for her, she's so blinded by her self made excuses that she can't see the wonderful sister she has.

I just can't help but think, like, mom and I wonder if there's something undiagnosed? She says ever since my sister was a child she would always need things repeated and would ask "what do you mean" and there was an age where everyone thought she behaved really strangely? And I wonder if she has undiagnosed ADHD because that can affect your focus, your mood regulation, things like that, and I hear ADHD can also explain excessive sleep which has a a lifelong issue for my sister. Its uh, it's also worth mentioning that apparently vyvanse/Adderall is one of the things she's occasionally using recreationally/buying off the street

But. I also. I also keep clinging to that possibility because its less painful to consider "maybe she just has some sort of disability and she literally can't help being this way" over "theres nothing we can do, she has to choose for herself what to do and she doesn't want to"

I just. I think I'll take the route of maybe sending her a message every now and again like once a week but im going to have to lower my expectations for hearing back from her. I just... I can't completely cut her off because she already feels so alone and thinks we don't care. What if me doing something to cut her off drove her to... I dont even want to think about whatever she might do. If she even cares about me that much.

It's just. She's been through so much. I can understand how that damages someone. There are times I let my depression get extremely bad and I had to hit the bottom before I get better or try to start taking meds again and I hope the same can happen for her but. She has. A lifetime of these bad decisions. I feel like I'm watching her self destruct. I literally feel like I need to get into contact with our father and have him talk to her about this as a former addict/alcoholic, and I haven't spoken to that man in years. Like. Im desperate.

My mom is heartbroken too. She's 57 and she's worried about how my sister and I will take care of ourselves after she's gone. She even said during the visit "you'd think your sister would show some sort of concern that I'm getting older". Like she has had to completely shut herself down after this visit or else she'd be constantly sobbing. I've seen my mom cry more in this last week than when her own mother died. She's terrified that she has to try and fix this before mt sister gets any worse and my mom isn't here to help her

I'm just so sad. I'm sad and I'm angry and I'm disappointed and I feel so so SO guilty and. Yeah.

God fucking damn it i was just thinking about trying to force myself to get back into writing too, because that's something fun for me, that's an outlet for me, something thats productive and makes me feel better, and now that's becoming associated with this pain. Fuck. Fuck. It just keeps getting better.

[riahlynn101]

"The Caretaker's Keeper" (2).

Thank you, guys, for all the support on the last chapter <3 I appreciate it all so much!

Trigger warnings: kidnapping, people in distress, All for One upping his creepiness meter, abandonment issues, implied/referenced child abandonment, and swearing.

I took the last chapter and made it worse (in my opinion). As always, take care your mental health first. Don't read something that might aggravate existing issues (be kind to yourselves) ^w^

Chapter 2 (final part)

--

“My brother likes you,” his boss says, an unreadable expression on his face. It fills Izuku with a certain sense of foreboding, like his entire existence hangs in the balance of one man’s unhealthy obsession with his younger brother (and it kind of does). 

“O-oh?” Izuku puts his pencil down and looks up at his boss. He tries not to make eye contact. Kacchan hates it when he does that; he thinks it has something to do with control and wanting to feel powerful. His boss has never laid into him for looking at him like his former friend does (or did as they started at separate high schools, three months ago) but old habits die hard. 

“Yes, and if I’m particularly honest, I find myself becoming quite fond of your presence.”

“Thank you, sir.” The words feel hollow coming from his mouth. Fondness from his boss is akin to superglue that spills and dries on carpet. More and more he sees that Yoichi is living proof of that. 

“Well, I see no need to beat around the bush. Izuku-Kun, I’m going to need you to move in.”

“Move…in?”

“Yes, move in. I have to be away on a business trip for a month, or so, and I don’t trust any of my associates to handle my brother with care. Besides, it will be easier for you to stay here rather than taking the bus back-and-forth.”

“I-I don’t know, sir. My mom-”

“Will be sent fifty-percent of your paycheck. I know you usually give her all of your earnings, but I think you should save at least five hundred per paycheck for college.”

There’s something to his words. A finality. 

“I don’t want to-” he stops himself, seeing the stormy glare his boss is giving him. “My mom will worry about me.”

“You can still call her, everyday.”

He swallows hard, fighting back tears. “But my school. I have to leave anyway to attend.”

“Online schooling is a remarkable thing. I’m sure my brother would love to tutor you. He loves helping others.”

Izuku sighs. There’s little he can do right now. A month is not that long anyways. “And this arrangement is just for a month?”

His boss smiles, head resting on his hands. “Of course, Izuku-Kun. Would I ever lie to you?”

-x-x-x-

“I’m overjoyed that you decided to stay with us.” 

Izuku fights down a scoff. It’s not in his best interest to show his boss attitude. He gets mildly annoyed when Yoichi does it, and the man’s his adored little brother. He would hate to see what someone like him-who has barely broached the level of ‘fondness’-would get if he dared to be a little extra cheeky.

“I’m very glad to be here, sir,” Izuku says, keeping his tone bright and cheery. 

His hair is ruffled for the hundredth time today - his boss really likes doing that for some reason. And, despite his negative feelings towards him, Izuku finds it kind of nice. His own father never engaged in affection of any sort, choosing instead to keep Izuku at arm's length. 

They stand in the middle of his (well, less his and more the designated room his boss has decided to graciously offer him) temporary bedroom. The interior design is uncomfortably reminiscent of the vault Yoichi has been trapped in for however long. 

(Sometimes Yoichi will whisper names to him. Just names, nothing else. Like he doesn’t trust himself to keep them safe, or wants to make sure they live on. And they always come out sounding so heart wrenchingly sad.)

It has the same layout with the twin bed (with similar-looking bedding) and a desk and a bookshelf with all the same books he’s seen on the bookshelf in the vault.

A shiver creeps down his spine. His mother hadn’t been happy with this new arrangement, and almost made him quit (something neither of them can afford to do), but she let him go when he told her it’s a month at most.

“I hope this room is to your liking, Izuku-Kun.” His boss watches him from the doorway. 

“Very much so, sir.” He can’t handle looking at this room any longer, so he subtly joins his boss back in the hallway. “How is Yoi- your brother doing today?” 

He hasn’t seen the other brother since Friday (his boss allowed him a couple of days off to spend with his mom, which was….kind of him….Izuku supposes). 

“Good. He’s very excited to help you with your schoolwork.”

“Does this mean I’m allowed to speak with him more?” All their conversations have been very one sided. It would be nice to finally be able to ask Yoichi some questions.

“Within reason. Any talk regarding current events, or escape plans will be met with garnished wages. Of which will firstly be taken from the portion of the paycheck given to your mother.”

Izuku opens his mouth but quickly closes it with a muted click. 

“And of course, I don’t need to tell you that any attempts at helping my brother escape will result in a consequence you really won’t like.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Off to see my brother you go. I have a meeting to attend, but I would love for you to meet me in the dining room around six.”

“Yes, sir.” Izuku turns on his heels, heading for the elevator that will take him down…down…down to Yoichi’s “room.” 

-x-x-x-

It’s nice being able to talk to Yoichi. He has to keep some of his questions to himself, but anything is better than standing unmoving for hours at a time. There had even been another chair brought in just for him, though Izuku guesses that might have something to do with the fact that Yoichi is going to tutor him for the month Izuku has to homeschool. 

Yoichi is quiet today. Unnaturally so. 

He sits at his desk, shoulders hunched up. A curtain of white hair blocks Izuku from seeing his face. He doodles on a drawing pad. The faint sounds of pencil on paper seem extraordinarily loud with every moment that passes.

“Are you okay?” He asks, reaching a hand out to…..to he doesn’t know. Check his temperature? Pat his back? “Do you need a-”

“I’m fine,” Yoichi snaps. The sounds of pencil on paper increase, undue pressure being added. 

It would be wise, he thinks, to back off. Izuku has been through enough to know when his help is not wanted, nor needed. He chews at his bottom lip, casting a worried glance towards the camera. 

Still, he has a job to do. 

He tries again, this time scooting his chair closer. 

“It’s just…you don’t seem fine. Did something-” The words die in his throat at the icy glare Yoichi sends him. 

“You should’ve quit when you had the chance.” Despite his glare, there is no bite to his words, only a bone-weary sadness. 

-x-x-x-

The hours between that strange confession and dinner had been excruciatingly long. Yoichi returned to ignoring his existence, but listened when the time came to switch to another task. He ate his dinner a little early and turned in for the night.

Which meant that Izuku had to endure the company of his boss’ other employees. They’re polite to him, at least more so than people usually are. But that’s not saying much. Their boss doesn’t tolerate disrespect, nor rudeness, so maybe everyone being “nice” is a condition of employment. 

He hangs out in the kitchen until he’s called upon for dinner. Something about watching the cooks bustle around the kitchen is interesting to watch. It vaguely reminds him of those cooking shows his mom and him used to watch before his father left and they could no longer afford cable. Sometimes they even let him taste-test the food.

By the time he’s collected for dinner, Izuku has almost fallen asleep, pressed in the corner between a metal-shelving unit and a mop bucket. A maid twice as old as his mom pokes him with her foot, urging him to get up and make himself look “presentable.”

He’s then taken by the elbow to a side room. The maid uses her thin, bony fingers to tame his wild hair. She soothes out his clothes, trying to work out all the wrinkles she can before opening the dining room door and ushering him inside. 

“Midoriya Izuku, master,” she announces, bowing. 

The dining room is surprisingly humble. The table is fit for a family of four. It looks worn, the wood old. His boss’ chair creaks with the slightest movement. And the room itself is quite small. The floral wallpaper is peeling in some areas and crinkling in others. 

Their boss dismisses the maid with a wave of his hand. Izuku envies the maid who can exist invisible to their boss, only called upon to fetch guests or clean rooms. The latter of which Izuku hates with a burning passion, especially folding laundry - but he would rather be doing that than having dinner with his boss. 

“Izuku-Kun,” His boss greets, sipping on his wine. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

As if he had a choice!

Izuku smiles, bowing. If his father did one thing right, it was instilling a proper understanding of politeness and manners. “Happy to be here, sir.” His tone betrays nothing. 

Must be over-eager, not reluctant.

“So formal. Come, come, sit.”

Izuku, as per usual, obeys. He sits to his boss’ right (the only other place setting). The fabric place mats are a deep green. They remind him of his mom’s eyes. 

His heart twists. 

One month. He can do this!

“I hope my brother didn’t give you any trouble today?”

Izuku shakes his head. He’s seen how cruel his boss can be to Yoichi. His biting words always go further than he realizes. 

( Or maybe, a voice whispers in his mind, he doesn’t care). 

“Fine, sir. He followed the schedule perfectly.”

His boss smiles but it doesn’t reach his blood red eyes. “As a heads up, my brother might be particularly….hm…. moody during the upcoming month.”

Despite not asking permission to speak, or being asked a direct question, Izuku’s own curiosity wins out. “How come….uh….sir.”

His boss frowns down at his placemat. “I’m afraid the anniversary of our parents’ deaths is coming up.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry for your brother and your losses.”

His boss looks at him, face impassive. “Can I ask you something, Izuku-Kun?”

He stares longingly at the door leading to the kitchen. Maybe he should just book it. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to make rent this month, but they would get through it. They always do. 

His boss clears his throat. 

On instinct, Izuku snaps his attention back to the tall, imposing figure sitting next to him. “Yes, of course, sir. You can ask me anything.”

“Your father,” he starts, swirling the liquid in his glass of wine, “he treated you poorly, correct?”

Izuku looks up at the ceiling. “N-no.” He forces himself to look at his boss. There’s a level of vulnerability that comes with talking about Hisashi Midoriya. One of two people in the world that should have been guaranteed to like him, and Izuku can’t even have that. 

“No? What do you call walking out on your family?”

“He….he doesn’t matter. I have my mom and that’s good enough for me.”

His boss watches him, and Izuku knows he’s watching him. He does that a lot, like he enjoys picking apart Izuku’s reactions. It feels wrong and violating, but he’s been wrong before. So, maybe he’s overreacting. 

“Is it?” His boss asks.

Before Izuku can respond, the door to the kitchen opens. The head chef along with a waiter bring in their dinner. It’s Katsudon. His favorite.

He has no appetite. 

-x-x-x-

A week passes and his boss leaves on his business trip. Izuku is given a list of emergency contacts and a whole binder full of contingency plans if anything goes awry. 

Both of which sit on Izuku’s (borrowed) desk. He leafs them over in between caring for Yoichi and some other chores he picked up to be more helpful. His boss didn’t say he had to do chores, but sitting around and watching others clean up after him makes Izuku feel gross. 

He feels worthless enough without watching the elderly maid bend down with her creaking back to pick up the house. 

Besides, the maids and other staff don’t seem to mind. They have even started letting him in on some of their gossip and inside jokes. And it fills his time.

As his boss forewarned, Yoichi’s temperament is mercurial. He follows his schedule to the letter, but spares no warm words or knowing glances. This would be fine if Izuku didn’t have to spend an extra hour or so a day getting tutored by him.

(He misses Yoichi. He wishes the man would just talk to him).

Every night he calls his mom. No matter where she’s at, she always, always picks up the phone. Her soft voice makes him feel a little less alone. He tells her about his new coworkers and how nice everyone is (some of them aren’t, but his mom shouldn’t have to worry about him). In turn, she tells him about her own co-workers and the new orange cat that their neighbors recently brought home. 

He misses her terribly. 

The month can’t end fast enough.

-x-x-x-

Another good thing that’s come out of being trapped here for a month, is that Izuku can see so many cool and interesting quirks up close and personal. 

Outside, people are weary of using their quirks. Some skirt the rule of no outside quirk usage unless you possess a provisional license, but unless they’re a villain, even those people use their quirk sparingly. 

He’s so glad he brought another empty notebook along. These people aren’t heroes by any stretch of the imagination, but something inside Izuku pushes him to ask questions and analyze all the potential ways their quirks could be used in combat (or just in day-to-day life). 

However, he’s had to limit his questions, as it seems even the people within these walls aren’t immune to thinking him odd. His mumbling is creepy to them (as is always the case). 

Even Yoichi, who’s still ignoring him whenever possible, looks at him with a sense of unease. 

Still, he has thirty of the one hundred-fifty pages filled. It would be a waste to not continue on.

-x-x-x-

Everyone has their boiling point.

“I don’t understand. Please, stop ignoring me. Your brother said-”

And Yoichi’s boiling point finally, well, boils over after a particularly confusing math lesson. He glares at Izuku, stopping the rest of the words from leaving his mouth. 

“My brother says a lot of things. He means none of them.” Yoichi leans over until he’s staring Izuku right in the eyes. “You’re foolish if you believe anything he tells you.”

For a second, Izuku is transported back to his fourth year of elementary school. Instead of Yoichi being in his face, it’s his then-teacher, Aoki-Sensei. All of his teachers were their own level of cruel to him, ranging from neglectful to full on encouraging the other students to terrorize him, but Aoki-Sensei always stood out. 

She had started out nice. Patient and empathetic to his plight as being the social pariah in his class. Each day she let him sit in her classroom before and after school (so he wouldn’t run into Kacchan), allowed him to complain about how unfair life is, and even sometimes walked him home. 

After years of no adults in his life caring (sans his mom), it was nice having someone who listened and saw Izuku for who he is. 

And then it came to an end. Aoki-Sensei must have started becoming a social pariah among the other staff members-because that’s the only reason that makes sense (surely she hadn’t played the long game, in an effort to hurt him more?)-because suddenly, one day, she became just as cold as the rest of his teachers.

She seemed to take great pride in pointing out his flaws, laughing along with the class as he sobbed loudly. What made it ten-times worse was that, after school, when he asked what he had done to warrant this new behavior, she had simply said, “you must be a special level of foolish to believe I ever cared about you.”

Over the top, almost cartoonishly evil words aside. Those words had stuck with Izuku all these years later, weighing him down. 

That feeling of being so utterly ashamed comes back in full force. 

Ashamed that anyone would have ever treated him kindly. 

Ashamed that he believed he had a friend, or confidant in someone.

Ashamed because no matter how hard Izuku tries to dig himself out of the metaphorical hole he’s been trapped inside since he received his quirkless diagnosis he’ll forever be stuck.

“Stop!” Izuku shouts, standing up suddenly. The movement makes him dizzy, but he shakes it off. 

Yoichi follows him. “Stop what? I’m sorry am I being a little mean?”

Izuku can feel his face growing red, burning. His breath hitches, as he fights down his sobs. “Y-yes.”

“Isn’t this what you signed up for? Here’s an idea, if you don’t like me being mean, why don’t you leave ?” 

“I-I can’t.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot because your mother and you have nothing to your names, isn’t that right?”

Hearing his mother brought up lights a match inside Izuku. It sets alight some deep, ugly emotion. The kind that makes him feel bitter and numb in place of hurt and embarrassed. 

“Yeah? At least I’m not trapped in a bank vault! What? Couldn’t hack it outside these walls, so your brother-”

Smack!

Izuku is thrown backwards. He hits his head on the corner of the bookshelf on the way down. 

For a second, there’s blissful silence. 

He lays in front of the bookshelf, idly staring up at the ceiling. How has he never noticed that it’s unpainted before? 

And then, like a freight train, the pain hits. 

He moves to sit up, but an overwhelming ache fills the back of his head. It sends sparks of stabbing pain down his spine. He groans. 

Yoichi is on him in an instant. His green eyes-so similar to Izuku’s own-fill with tears. Izuku thinks he might be telling him something, but the words sound so muffled and faraway that he hears nothing beyond his own blood rushing in his ears. 

And then, 

Nothing. 

-x-x-x-

It’s raining when Mikumo makes it back home. Most of his staff has been dismissed for the night, barring some of the guards who have overnight shifts. So, the house is almost completely silent, save for the quiet buzzing of monitors, or the large grandfather clock ticking away in the foyer. 

Out of habit he heads for the security office, the one he uses to keep an eye on his unruly little brother. 

He peeks into Izuku’s room on the way there. It’s clean. More so than what he would expect from a fifteen-year-old boy. Not a thing out of place, nor missing. It’s a little odd he isn’t in bed yet, but Yoichi is probably giving him a hard time. 

Mikumo wouldn’t put it past him to give the kid trouble just so he would run away. He’s certainly done it before. But, from the looks of rumpled sheets (the only thing out of place), he hasn’t succeeded yet. 

There’s a notebook sitting on Izuku’s pillow. It’s blue binding and the large words scribbled across the top: Hero Analysis for the Future: Number 14, catches his eye. He picks it up, leafing through it. 

“This….this is incredible.” Not the hero-part per say but excluding the title there’s not many heroes in the book itself. No, Mikumo’s interest lies in the exquisite way Izuku takes apart quirks. Dissecting them down to their bare components. Turning them inside out and finding out what makes them tick. What makes it all the more impressive is the fact that the kid doesn’t possess a quirk like All for One, so all of his analyses are from simply watching and or asking questions. 

He smiles, clutching the notebook in his hands. 

Clearly this is a sign that Izuku was meant to be their family. He was made for them. 

What a brilliant little brother he’s turning out to be. 

-x-x-x-

Mikumo takes one look at the cameras and is instantly moving for the elevator. His little brother couldn’t help himself, could he? Leave it to Yoichi to make a bad situation worse. 

He opens the vault door hastily, having to reenter the code several times. 

His eyes land on Izuku’s body-very limp, very much not moving, body-first. Even from here it’s easy to see the boy’s eyes are starting to glaze over, and there’s a small puddle of red forming around his head. 

“Help!” His brother screams. He sobs loudly, hands hovering over Izuku. “Fucking help him!”

Mikumo steps closer. “Yoichi-”

“Don’t…” he sobs, rocking back-and-forth (a habit he formed during their tumultuous childhood). “P-please, help him. I-I am so, so sorry.”

He hasn’t seen his brother so broken since- 

Mikumo kneels down. The puddle of blood has grown larger, it covers his knees when he sits. Izuku’s face is paler now. It sends a stab of worry through him. His gut twists. Gingerly, he takes hold of Izuku’s wrist to check his pulse. 

“It’s weak,” he murmurs, just loud enough over his brother’s sobs. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Izuku. I didn’t mean it. Please. Please. Please…”

At some point, Mikumo blocks his brother out. This is a time sensitive issue. Judging by the blood loss and the fact it’s coming from his head, the kid probably has less than three minutes before it becomes outside his scope of practice. 

But taking him to the local hospital is also out of the question. He could always ask Doctor Garaki if he’s willing to take on a patient, but the man is too nosy for his own good. He doesn’t even know about Yoichi. 

That leaves him. Mikumo is the one that hired this kid. He’s the one that set this whole plan into motion and forced his little brother and a naive kid together. 

So, it has to be him that saves the day. 

It’s what big brothers are for. 

He has countless regenerating quirks that could fix the kid up in an instant, but Mikumo has another, shared quirk that would better fit the newest member of their family. 

He sighs, placing a hand on Izuku’s forehead. He hadn’t wanted to do this until Izuku got used to his new arrangements. But desperate times call for equally desperate measures. 

“I won’t let you leave me.” 

-x-x-x-

In the morning, he is woken up by his boss. Izuku startles, afraid he’s missed taking breakfast to Yoichi. That’s a whole three hundred dollars his mom will miss out on! All because he slept in.

He goes to sit up, only to be met with a sharp ache in the back of his head, and his boss grasping his biceps. “Easy there, Izuku. Yoichi did a number on you, the idiot. You need to rest.”

Izuku blinks sluggishly at his employer. “What?” 

“All in due time.” His boss covers him back up with the comforter and soothes his hair back. “Rest.” A kiss is laid upon his forehead, easing the ache just a little bit. 

Sleep claims him once again. 

-x-x-x-

Yoichi scrubs the blood on the floor. No staff besides Izuku are allowed in here. Izuku (or his brother) handles anything that might otherwise warrant someone coming in here.

Laundry. 

Changing of supplies.

Deep cleaning. 

And everything in between. 

But neither of them is available right now, and Yoichi can’t bear looking at the slowly drying spot any longer. A horrible, horrible reminder of what he did. 

He scrubs harder, willing it all to go away. The scent of blood and watered-down bleach is nauseating. Even with a mask on, he has to turn away every so often. 

It doesn’t come out, at least not fully. 

He continues rubbing at the spot, trying not to think about the fate he inadvertently thrusted someone so….so young and nice and reminds Yoichi of a better version of himself. A version of himself that hadn’t yet been under his brother’s thumb (at least not aware of it). 

Tears continue pouring down his face. 

His eyes drift over to the older blood stain and then back. 

He sobs, hands braced on the floor. It’s hard to see through his tangled mess of hair. He should have cut it long ago, but the thought of looking anymore like his brother makes him sick. 

“I-I’m sorry, Izuku! I’m so sorry!” 

He curls up on the floor. There’s nothing he can do. He’s useless. 

He’s always been useless. 

-x-x-x-

“Izuku?” 

Someone runs their fingers through his hair. The exact same way his mom does. He smiles, his boss must have sent him home last night. The voice doesn’t match, but maybe his mother has a head cold. 

He groans, snuggling deeper into the pillows. 

His mom laughs. 

He’s…..he’s missed her laugh. 

That isn’t her laugh.

His eyes snap open. His boss hovers over him, stroking his face and hair. 

“Welcome back,” his boss says, something like worry in his voice. “I hope you had a nice nap.”

“What?” 

“I bet you’re confused.”

Confused would be a tad bit under generous for how Izuku feels at the moment, but he’s retained enough self-awareness to recognize doing so might not be good for his health. 

He nods. 

“You took a little tumble. My brother and you got into an argument-”

Oh, that’s right. He insulted Yoichi, and basically called him useless. 

Just like Kacchan used to do to Izuku. 

“-of course, you're fine now. I fixed you all better. I would still like you to rest. I’m working on expanding the vault downstairs, but it might take a while.”

Izuku’s stomach drops. Shouldn’t he be sent home now? If his boss’ words are to be believed, then he’s all better. He should be leaving. His mom will be expecting him soon. 

He can’t leave her like his dad did. She doesn’t deserve that. 

“In the meantime,” his boss continues, oblivious to Izuku’s internal distress, “You can stay in the room I use when I have to move Yoichi place to place.”

“What does that mean?” He asks, voice shaky. 

“It means you’re here to stay. I see something in you. A spark I haven’t seen since my brother and I were your age. I want to keep it. I want to keep you. Little brother.”

Izuku swallows around the lump growing in his throat. “W-why me?”

His boss sighs. “I just explained why, little brother.”

Izuku yanks the blankets off, throwing himself forward and off the bed. He lands on the metal floor. The coolness of the material brings him back to his senses long enough to realize that this room is tiny, half the size of the room he’s been staying in and has metal flooring and a metal ceiling. 

He scrambles to his feet. It’s hard to hear anything over his own blood rushing through his ears, which brings a nauseating bout of nostalgia. In the back of his mind, he can hear the sickening sound of his own skull caving in. 

He shakes his head to get rid of the unwanted memory, but it only makes him feel worse. 

Somehow he makes it across the room on trembling legs to pull at the door. It’s not the typical vault-style door. So, it should open. Right? 

He pulls and pushes and yanks. 

“It’s not going to open, little brother.”

“I’m not your fucking little brother! Let me leave now!” His mind is going a million miles per hour, each thought whizzing by like runaway trains. All he can focus on is needing to escape. He needs to leave! 

He needs out!

There’s a clicking sound. “I wouldn’t normally tolerate such indecent language, but you’re clearly adjusting. I’ll let it slide if you say sorry.”

“No!”

“Izuku.”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

He sees his boss step forward. “One more chance. Say sorry.”

Izuku presses his back against the door. He shakes his head frantically. “M-mom! Mommy help me!”

His boss takes another step and then another. Izuku closes his eyes. Silently he apologizes to his mom for being such a terrible son.

He’s being lifted and held securely against a firm chest. A hand returns to his hair. 

“It’s okay, little brother. You’re scared, but things will be okay now. Everything will be alright, Nii-San is here.”

Through his panic, Izuku doubts that. Nothing in his life, minus the paychecks he gets like clockwork every week, has been okay. 

If getting out of poverty means enduring whatever this is, Izuku will eat dollar store packets of ramen every night and every morning for the rest of time. The minute he hits sixteen he’ll apply to everyplace in the city, and work as many jobs as possible to keep his mom and him afloat. 

“Please, let me go. My mom-”

The grip around holding him to his boss’ chest tightens. “Your mom is no longer your mom. She doesn't want you anymore.”

Logically, Izuku knows his boss is lying. His mom hadn’t given him up after a quirkless diagnosis, or after his father left and doing so would have been more financially smart. She’s too kind for that. She’s too much of a good mom to ever leave him. 

He knows that, but…..

…..Izuku’s so tired. 

Comprehending anything beyond what is in the here and now feels out of reach. He wants to go home so badly, his body hurts when he thinks about being trapped here. 

“N-no she didn’t.”

“She did. One of my men took your paycheck to her, and she was in the process of moving out. Apparently she was in quite the hurry. She took the paycheck and slammed the door.”

“But she wouldn’t….” the words die in his throat. He feels sick. 

Five years ago, he would have said the same thing about his father. So, maybe she would. 

“M-mom,” he says, voice hoarse from screaming. 

“But it’s okay, your big brothers will take care of you.”

Numbly, Izuku nods. 

A childish ask bubbles up from his chest. Summoning his last remaining courage, he asks, “you won’t leave me, right?”

“For as long as I live,” his bos- big brother promises. 

He feels empty inside. 

-x-x-x-

The first few years are hard. 

In truth, Izuku has no way to know if years have passed. He himself doesn’t change and neither does the vault. Yoichi tries to help keep track of time for his sake, but quickly loses count.

They share the vault, Yoichi’s twin bed becoming a trundle bed. (“So, neither of you get lonely during the night,” big brother explained). Sometimes it’s hard being together all day and all night, never being able to escape to somewhere that’s not here, in this place. 

Yoichi has taken it in stride. At times he holds Izuku (his grip looser than big brother’s) and tells him in near-inaudible whispers that one day they’ll be able to leave the room. 

Izuku can’t bring himself to hope anymore. 

They don’t get a new caretaker, Nii-San likes to do the mundane tasks himself. He comes around every few hours with food, medicine, or supplies. His constant presence is every bit as stifling as it is comforting. 

So, it’s strange one day when Nii-San doesn’t make an appearance. 

Yoichi does his best to calm him, reading passages from the book he’s reading and stroking his hair. 

More time passes. No Nii-San. 

“His meetings must have run over. It’s not often he’s late, but it does happen.” 

More time passes, perhaps another hour, day, or week. They tear into the snacks and bottles of water their big brother allows them to have in their bedroom for emergencies such as this. 

It’s after the third time of waking up with no sign of Nii-San that Izuku starts to visibly panic. This, of course, makes Yoichi panic (though he does his best to hide it). 

He paces the length of the room, occasionally waving to the camera hoping to see the red recording light come on. It never does. 

On, what has got to be, his seven hundredth time pacing, something emerges from the wall. Several panels in the wall slide down, revealing small spouts. He looks at Yoichi.

“What are these things?” 

Before his other, less crazy, big brother can shrug, the air suddenly becomes thinner. He coughs, whirling around to face Yoichi because his lungs are weaker. Whatever this is, it must be related to the spouts. He can’t put much effort into thinking. His head is filled with cotton and he has to blink away the heaviness pulling his eyelids down. 

“Yoi-chi….?” Izuku stumbles over to the bed. His brother lays on his bed, eyes shut and limp, but still breathing (thankfully). “Bro…ther?” He coughs, trying to dispel whatever’s clogging his lungs. “Wake up.” His strength is leaving him second by second, but Izuku manages to get on his brother’s bed and shake him. “P-please…..w…ake….” 

He falls next to his brother, blissfully unaware of the chaos going on above the surface.

-x-x-x-

He wakes up much more tired than when he first fell asleep. Yoichi’s in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

“We need to go now,” he says. “The door is open. I don’t know what happened, but everything is different now. Much, much different. We should leave before Mikumo comes back.”

Izuku’s brain sluggishly processes those words. “Leave?”

“Yes.” Yoichi doesn’t wait for a reply, helping him into a standing position. “I have a few contacts on the outside. They should be able to help us.”

Izuku takes in their surroundings. Everything’s covered in cobwebs and dust. What…. happened here?

They hobble along the hallway, supporting one another.

“Let’s hope the elevator works.”

It does. Thankfully. 

And even more thankfully, Nii-San didn’t change the codes to work the elevator since Izuku was Yoichi’s caretaker.

The upstairs is even more dusty and covered in cobwebs. Almost like no one’s stepped foot in this place for decades.

“Where is everyone?” Izuku asks. More to himself than his brother, but Yoichi takes it upon himself to answer anyway.

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know either. It’s better if we move on.”

They have no trouble leaving. The guards’ tower is just as empty as inside the house. The fence is overgrown with ivy and moss, covering every inch of it.

They reach the city before nightfall, though Izuku has a hard time recognizing it as the city he’s lived in all his life. Nothing looks the same. All the shops are different and not a single person they pass looks familiar. 

Yoichi has him stop in front of an apartment building. He says something about needing to call someone, before stepping into a nearby phone booth. But Izuku doesn’t hear a single word, eyes transfixed on the building towering over him. 

Home. 

Before he can stop himself, Izuku runs for the entrance. Maybe Nii-San was wrong. Maybe his mom didn’t leave. She’s probably been waiting for him to come home. 

He reaches his apartment. The numbers on the door are faded and the metal dust-handle is rusted, but it’s unmistakable theirs. Heavy footsteps come up behind him.

Someone coughs. “I-Izuku!” Yoichi shouts, with all the energy of an aggravated older sibling. “What are you doing? You can’t just run off like that.”

Izuku looks down at his feet. “This is my home.”

“Wha- oh ,” his brother murmurs. “I see. Go ahead.” 

Izuku checks under the mat for the spare key his mom kept in case of emergencies. He finds it, his fingers clutching it to his palm. The weight is familiar. He’s missed it.

Nervously, he glances back at Yoichi. 

“Go on, Izu,” he says. “I’m right here.”

Izuku shakily unlocks the door. To his relief when the door creaks open, the apartment isn’t covered in dust or cobwebs. He enters, Yoichi on his heels.

“Mom!?” He peeks into the kitchen. The drawing he made of All Might is still on the fridge. 

“Mom!? It’s me, Izuku! Where are you!?” A loud, hacking cough gets his attention. Somewhere down the hall. Excitedly, Izuku races for his mom’s room. He’s here. He’s home. He can finally see his mom.

He pokes his head into her room, the light is on. Usually he’d knock first, but he’s sure she’ll forgive him for forgoing that rule. “Mom! I can’t wait to- huh?” 

“Uh, Izuku,” Yoichi starts, “maybe you shouldn’t-”

“Who are you!?” Izuku asks, because the old woman in front of him, laying in a hospice bed, is definitely not his mom. “Where’s mom?”

The woman looks at him. “I-Izuku. My baby?”

He shakes his head. “No. My mom…you’re not….Yoichi?” He backs away from the room. His back hits the wall directly across the room. 

“It’s been a while. She’s grown older.”

“No, no, no, no!” He cries. “My-my mom is young. She’s living somewhere warm, and she’s happy.”

Yoichi frowns. “I’m sorry, Izuku.”

“She’s supposed to have gotten away. I was the reason she had to live like this. Why didn’t she leave? Nii-San told me she left. Why did she come back? Did she even ever leave?” 

Yoichi doesn’t speak, patting his back. 

“Oh my god, I abandoned her. I’m just like my father.”

A light pop on his mouth startles him out of his downward spiral. He looks at Yoichi, eyes wide. His brother has one of the most serious expressions Izuku’s ever seen on someone. 

“You listen to me, and you listen to me well. You are not your father. Your father made a conscious choice to walk out on you guys. You weren’t given a choice. You did what you had to, to help your mother out of poverty. You were just trying to be a good son.”

Izuku feels his usual waterworks starting up. He leans into his brother’s embrace, taking refuge in the familiar warmth. “Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Anytime.”

“Izuku?” His mom calls out, and without panic altering his senses, he can hear her voice. 

“If you want to leave-”

“No. I should stay, at least to say goodbye to her. She’s probably waited years for me to come home.”

“Go on then.” Yoichi smiles at him. “Be her hero.”

Izuku nods, taking a running start straight into her bedroom. He hops into All Might’s signature pose (one of them at least). “I am here!” 

His mom is hooked up to so many machines. An oxygen mask covers the bottom half of her mouth. Her long green hair has thinned out, and she’s all skin and bones. The circles under her eyes tell of years worth of sleepless nights. 

(How many nights did she stay up, hoping and praying he’d walk through the door?)

Despite her misery, his mom manages one of her famous smiles. The kind she used to do at him when they would play heroes. Bright and genuine and so achingly-familiar. 

“Izuku Might!” She cheers. “My hero!” 

“I’m sorry I took so long.”

“Don’t be. I’ve been expecting you.”

Izuku’s stomach twists. “Oh?” 

“Yes, I was hoping it would have been last night. Would have saved me the trouble of having to listen to the upstairs neighbors argue over things that don’t matter.” She laughs.

Izuku closes his eyes, trying to commit the sound to memory. Forever. 

“Well, I’m here, mom.”

“You are.” Tears well up in her green eyes, which are dimmer than they used to be. 

Izuku is by her side in an instant. He climbs over the railing of the bed, and cuddles up next to her. “It’s okay, mommy. I’m here. I’m sorry I left.”

“Oh, baby, you don’t have to be sorry. None of this was your fault. I should have been better. After your father left, I was absent. I ignored your needs. I was selfish.”

Izuku opens his mouth, ready to defend his mother from herself. A finger brushes his lips, shushing him. 

“Shhh…..I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He lays with her, curled into her side like he’s five-years-old again. He strokes her hair, murmuring comforting nothings to her. 

-x-x-x-

Izuku stumbles into the hallway, gaze fixated on the wall in front of him. He feels empty. But this empty is worse than usual. It’s not the kind caused by suppressed emotion, but the sort that follows you like a rain cloud. 

His face and neck feel sticky with all the shed tears. 

“I’m ready to go now.” 

His brother holds a hand out, which he takes, grateful for something to grasp. He’s lead back outside the building, passing a nurse-judging by the medical scrubs and badge-on the stairs. 

“Excuse me?” She asks, looking at them. “But could either of you tell me where Midoriya Inko lives? It’s my first night, and the nurse that normally works overnight here just quit.”

Izuku points upward. “Apartment 38C.”

“Ah, thank you.”

He stands on the steps a few moments longer, watching the nurse race to her patient that is long, long gone. 

His brother tugs on his hand, getting his attention. “Come along. My friend will be meeting us at the park down the road. You’ll like him.”

Izuku doesn’t spare a glance at the building, choosing instead to move forward. For the first time, in a long time, he allows himself to hope. 

The future suddenly feels brighter. 

-x-x-x-

Izuku sits in the backseat of Yoichi’s friend’s car. He watches them lean in to kiss for the hundredth millionth time in five minutes. 

“Ick!” He sticks his tongue out. 

Yoichi’s friend reaches a hand in the backseat to ruffle his hair. His face is heavily scarred and there’s an underlying hardness there, but the icy glare melts away anytime he lays eyes on Yoichi (or, as he warms up, at Izuku). 

“Niiii, stop,” Yoichi says, giggling. 

Izuku giggles too, turning away from the couple to look out the window. They pass by open fields and luscious forests. 

“Hey, Yoichi-nii, where are we going?” 

“Um, that’s a great question. Where are we going, my hero?”

Izuku gags. What did he do to have to bear witness to this?

“I can’t say. It’s a surprise.”

Yoichi and him exchange a worried look. They both don’t say it outloud, but surprises scare them. The last surprise either of them got was near-eternity in a metal box. 

The rest of the drive is quiet, Izuku drifts off to the sound of th a/c and the quiet murmurings of long-lost love. (Even if he thinks they’re being kind of gross. It’s still nice that Yoichi has someone out here waiting for him. That’s one more person than Izuku has).

-x-x-x-

The car pulls to a stop deep within a forest. The trees that surround them, completely block out the sky. A quaint, little cabin sits in front of them. 

“Well,” his boyfriend says, putting the car into park, “this is it. The others should be inside, waiting. I called them right after you called me.”

Yoichi nods. The idea of seeing all the people cursed with One for All makes his stomache. 

“Yoi, what’s wrong?”

He fiddles with his fingers. “They’re not…they aren’t angry, are they?”

“Of course, they aren’t. What makes you think they would be?”

“Immortality is a curse.”

His boyfriend kisses on the lips, shutting him up. “I missed you.”

Yoichi melts. A happy squeak escapes his mouth without him permitting it too. “Me too.” He shakes his head. “I mean….I missed you, not that I missed myself. Well, you know. Right?”

His boyfriend’s expression softens even further. “I know perfectly well.”

They share a few more kisses before they start getting ready to go inside. 

“I’ll carry the kid inside. We have a room made up for him.”

Yoichi opens and closes his mouth “How?” He asks, gathering the meager supplies his boyfriend bought on his way to pick them up. 

“The attack on your brother’s base. The one that put you both into a coma for thirty-plus years? That was us.” He leans into the car to pick Izuku up. He holds him close to his chest, though it’s a bit difficult for his boyfriend to carry Izuku like he or their older brother does because of his below-average height. Still, he manages it like a champ. “We found his base of operations and broke in. The raid must have triggered a gas attack.”

“Huh,” Yoichi murmurs. “Well, you saved us from thirty-six years of playing Monopoly over and over again. But I do have a question.”

They step onto the porch. “My brother’s base wasn’t ransacked. It was just….dirty.”

“We didn’t destroy anything. Just infiltrated. Yagi was the one that did damage to your brother.”

“Is he…my brother dead?”

“Probably not. That bastard’s worse than a cockroach. He’s lucky that Yagi found him first, because what he did to….” his boyfriend swallows heavily. “Third deserved better.”

“He did. What All for One did to him….I dreamt about every night. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”

His boyfriend looks at him. “So am I, Yoi, so am I.” There’s not a hint of malice in his boyfriend’s tone, yet the words sting. He smiles, hand reaching for the door handle. “But tonight’s not about regrets. You’ve just been freed. Live your life for you and all those that can’t be here with us.”

“Yeah,” Yoichi says, resolute, “you’re right. Thank you.”

His boyfriend’s smile widens. “Ready to go inside.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

[swiftsaltsweet]

Wednesday Season 2: Hyde in the Shadows

Episode 2 Intermission 3: Bonus Story 1

Prev Episode

Characters: Wednesday and Enid (ft returning chars and new OCs)

Pairing: Wenclair

Important info: VERY Slow Burn, Canon Compliant (with season 1), read A/N For more details on everything.

Summary:  Stalking, murders, troubling visions, sins of the past, and a little bit of kidnapping. Wednesday’s start of the second semester isn’t a normal one, but when is her life ever “normal?” Wednesday has new mysteries to solve and catastrophes prevent, with the help of her overly enthusiastic roommate Enid, she just has to deal with some annoying relatives first.

Other Sites: AO3 and Fanfic.net

A/N: Here’s a bonus intermission~! Don’t worry it doesn’t take up a time slot on a Saturday, it’s just an extra chapter. ;D It’s a fun short story that doesn’t get featured in the main story. (because in the main story the focus is on the mysteries, Wednesday, and Enid) You can find me on tumblr and twitter with the same username (swiftsaltsweet) Not beta read, we’ll live or die by my sad hands! ;w;/

________________________________

                                        Wednesday Season 2:

                                       Hyde in the Shadows

                     Episode 2 Intermission 3: Puppeteering Artist

Pugsley sprawled himself across his new dorm bed, unsure of what to do. It was his first time transferring to a boarding school, and he wasn’t used to being away from his mother and father.

He was happy though, he at least had his sister, as well as his cousin to lean on if needed. Even if he had been trying to become less soft and more independent, as not to bother his sister as often.

He turned his head and saw Lady Fingers, a female disembodied hand who was an associate of his family, crawling up his bookshelf to investigate his books.

Well at least I have Thing and Lady Fingers to fall back on too, Pugsley quietly thought to himself. He’d feel less guilty having the two helping hands well…help him out.

Pugsley turned his head back to the ceiling. Thinking back on his past few years, and how he’d let himself be a pushover for bullies. How they shoved him into lockers, beat him up, used him as a punching bag, shoved him into lockers, force fed him disgusting pink cookies, made him oink like a pig, and shoved him into lockers.

Pugsley was very happy there were no lockers at Nevermore. That was one less thing for him to worry about.

That’s it, this year’s the year! I’m not going to drag Wednesday down! I’m not going to get bullied! I’m going to make a friend!

Pugsley sat up onto his bed and looked down determined.

I’m going to do it! I’m going to show everyone just how charming and awesome I can be! I’m going to- I’m going to…. I’m hungry. He thought tiredly as he flopped back down onto his bed.

It wasn’t his fault he felt like he was always hungry. He was a growing boy after all!

Pugsley started closing his eyes from his lack of energy, and was almost asleep when-

BAM!

Pugsley sat up to the noise of something hitting the floor. He turned his head side to side, discombobulated.

He looked on the floor beside his roommate’s desk and saw Lady Fingers scurrying around a sketchbook and drawing papers, embarrassed she got caught.

Pugsley sighed in relief, “Lady Fingers, it’s rude to go through people’s things.”

Pugsley had learnt the hard way from going through Wednesday’s things once when they were little. Let’s just say one of his little piggies almost went wee wee wee all the way home, permanently.

He got up from his bed and walked over to the sketchbook and various loose papers to place it back on the desk.

He stopped when he noticed the drawings. They were of various animals and objects, and some people who Pugsley didn’t recognize.

Wow, he’s pretty good! He thought, impressed. Pugsley had never been very artistic, unlike his mother and father and sister.

He straightened out the loose papers, getting a look at each drawing as he picked them up. Excusing himself as admiring rather than being nosy.

He almost dropped all the papers when he picked up one of the last few and recognized someone on it. His sister.

Pugsley blinked. Sure, he had seen people’s portraits in the pile, but this one stood out to him more. Was it because it was his sister? Or because it looked like it was drawn with extra care?

Pugsley couldn’t tell but it bothered him.

He heard the door open behind him and fumbled with the remaining pictures and hurriedly shoved them onto the desk as neatly as he could.

Unable to move to his side of the room, he made it look like he was admiring the pictures that his roommate had hanging up.

Pugsley was met with a taller boy with long hair, he had dirt, sweat, and a few scrapes all over him.

“Oh! Hi, what are you doing here?” the taller boy asked, “You’re Pugsley, right? Wednesday brother?”

“Hello. Yes, I am Pugsley, I live here. Are you, my roommate?”

“I suppose I am!” Xavier exclaimed, a bit shocked, but quickly recovered with a smile. He held out his hand then pulled away slight when he realized it had grime all over it.

Pugsley put his hand out, not afraid of a little dirt and the two shook hands.

“I’m Xavier, Xavier Thrope. Welcome to Nevermore! Sorry I couldn’t introduce myself earlier.”

“I’m Pugsley Addams, it’s ok, I’m sorry I couldn’t introduce myself earlier either.”

Pugsley had to reign his inner fanboy in when he heard his roommate’s last name. It was the same last name as his favorite psychic: Vincent Trope. He had read Vincent’s book about a hundred dozen times he could practically quote it.

Stop it Pugsley, two unrelated people can have the same last name! Pugsley chastised himself.

Little did Pugsley know; Xavier was the son of his idol. And also unbeknownst to Pugsley, that same son’s gears were turning.

Xavier couldn’t help himself, in his head he hit the jackpot. Pugsley Addams as my roommate? Wednesday’s brother? Bingo.

His head was whirling with ideas on how to get on Pugsley’s good side. Because if he’s on Pugsley’s good side, he’s on Wednesday’s good side. And if he’s on Wednesday’s good side, then maybe they can be a bit more than friends.

The two boys lost in their own thoughts; didn’t realize they were shaking their hands for much longer than was required. Only separating when Lady Fingers began impatiently drumming her nails on the table, she sat herself on.

The two boys quickly let go of the shake and turned towards the lady hand.

“Um, this is Lady Fingers, she’s a longtime associate of our family.”

“Yeah, I’m a bit acquainted,” Xavier rubbed his jaw, “She gave me a mean left hook when I tried pulling her off of Thing earlier.”

Lady Fingers lifted her body up slightly, as if puffing out her nonexistent chest in pride.

“Well, she doesn’t look very sorry,” Xavier said, a little surprised by her brashness.

“She rarely ever is,” Pugsley said happily.

Xavier looked at the younger boy and where he was positioned, “Looking at my pictures?”

“Um, y-yeah, you are a very talented artist!”

Xavier failed to hide his own gloating grin; he was always happy to receive compliments.

“Do you want to see something cool?”

Before Pugsley could answer, Xavier took a small drawing he did of a horse and waved his hand over it. The picture on the paper slowly, but surely, pulled itself out of the page and into the real world.

The horse neighed, and then galloped around the room, before jumping back into the paper.

“Woah!” Pugsley stared at the paper in wonder, “How did you do that?!”

“It’s my own brand of psychic powers little guy, I can make pretty much any picture come to life!” Xavier boasted.

“Anything?”

“Anything!”

“Even bombs? Oh oh! Or grenades? Or Greek fire?!”

Xavier smile faltered, “Y-yeah, I can do that t-too!” Xavier was a little concerned now.

Pugsley beamed at Xavier in wonder, but it slowly dissipated as he looked back at Xavier’s desk. The picture of his sister was slightly poking out from the stack, slightly showing her face.

Xavier followed his gaze, eyes widening in panic, and blushing furiously as he tried to move the picture on his desk. It was just an innocuous drawing he decided to do one night, to see if he could remember Wednesday’s face by memory.

“Can you make pictures do anything?” Pugsley asked.

“Y-yeah” Xavier agreed quickly, happy to change the topic back to his powers.

“Even human pictures?” Pugsley eyed Xavier dubiously.

“Oh? Yeah!” Xavier exclaimed happily, thinking he was still showing off to Pugsley. He picked up a picture he did of Edgar Allen Poe from his wall, and made it wink at Pugsley.

Pugsley stared at the picture in stunned horror, and Xavier smiled thinking he’d blown Pugsley away.

“Hey, I can show you more later if you want, but I really need to take a shower,” he laughed, placing the portrait back on the wall and leaving through the nearby door into their bathroom.

Pugsley stared after Xavier for what felt like forever as he realized the danger of his roommate’s powers.

H-he could make a portrait of Wednesday do things she wouldn’t normally do! He cried in his head.

He could make her sing, and dance, give her a sunny disposition! Make her go to Disney World, twice! The boy’s thoughts started to spiral.

He could make her like puppies, and unicorns, and lollipops! He could even make her wear yellow! Pugsley started to sweat from the horror.

No! I won’t let that happen! I will defend her honor! I will defend her reputation! I will protect my sister from this scoundrel! I swear on the name of Addams! Pugsley clenched his fist in resolution as he glared at the bathroom door.

Lady Fingers looked upon the paling, yet resolute boy and front of her, and realized she would have her work cut out for her this semester.

__________________________________

A/N: Pugs is a good boy. uwu He doesn’t go through people’s things willy nilly unlike his sister. And RIP Xavier, get rekt. XP Pugsley does not approve. 8U

I’ll have you know, it started off as a silly thing, and then as I typed I realized the horror of Xavier’s power like towards the end of writing this chapter……..aaaaaaand I’m trying not to character assassinate him. He’s my least fav character on WEDNESDAY and I’m trying to not make him look bad klsadfj;a TT0TT But if someone wants to take what pandora’s box I’ve unleashed, y’all can write an extra slimy Xavier with horrific implications, more power to you. *sobs*

Personally I like the irony of Pugsley being obsessed with Xavier’s father and just not…..connecting that the two are related. And then Xavier is just oblivious thinking everything is all well and good. 8U It’s a bit hard to characterize Pugsley, he seems more like the 60s version, more normal with a macabre fascination, but also a bit more quiet. I like the sweet Pugsley, but I feel like my heart rests with the absolute feral creature of the comic strip/90s cartoon/2020s movies. u_u

Fun Fact: 60s Wednesday once painted a bunch of paintings that got put into an art museum. And Morticia (and iirc Gomez) like to sculpt/paint and do other artistic things. As for if they are artistic it’s….up for debate. I’ve yet to see Pugsley partake in something like that (or at least as often), so that’s where that reference comes into play. (edit on tumblr, I thought she was put into an art museum, I think it was just a art critic that liked her....can’t remember if he wanted to put her stuff in a museum tho I’ll have to rewatch the ep)

Fun Fact 2: The ending part where Pugsley fears of Wednesday doing things she wouldn’t normally do, is a big ass reference to the Addams Family Musical. TT0TT Oh the inhumanity of what they do to my girl. ;w;

Personal Fun Fact: I’m actually on my way to going to the Addams Family Musical after I post this so klsajdfa;jf (edit for Tumblr cause I’m a dirty rotten scoundrel and also lazy sldjf;a TT0TT : Saw it, it was cute. It was a middle school play, which I kinda expected it might be one but wasn’t 100% sure, it’s interesting seeing the different versions of the play)

[finchbench]

The Sea in the Sky

My dad and I have always had a certain understanding of each other. He never had an easy life, so I could never expect him to be the best as a father. And he wasn't. Though I suppose I had the average upbringing for a girl without a mother. I wished I could go live with her instead of this tiny place. Nothing too eventful hardly ever happened in this tiny English town. The biggest bit of gossip I knew was that my father had been coupling with his best friend's wife for quite some time now.

It never bothered me too much though, since I didn't care for the friend to begin with. I did worry about the possible condemnation of my father’s soul, though I did not blame him for his immorality. I never partook in such things, but I had shown no judgement. Sometimes I had shown enough complicity that even I found it odd how I would allow these things to take place in the same house I lived and slept in. I suppose I mostly justified it by reminding myself of how the mistress's husband was a rude guest that wouldn’t take no as an answer. He was the type of man to frighten you just by existing.

Simply being near him seemed to demand your unwavering attention. Although I would never admit it, his inappropriate affection almost instilled a sense of pride in me; I felt special for being the object of such a mature and respectable man’s desires. I was never a spectacle to any man, until he decided to don his lust on me. Having the attention of someone like that after never having a true admirer is far more intoxicating than any drink. I had never outwardly shown interest in him in any sort of way, probably because I knew, -of course- that it was forbidden by morals. I especially would not be eager to go with the married man, who was also a known associate of my father’s. It was the idea of having someone with such a demanding presence as him that attracted me, not the man himself. I never actually wanted him.

It didn't matter what I did or did not want though, I tried as hard as I could, and still could not push him away. Unfortunately, his presence was not only intimidating, but he was also genuinely terrifying. I was much smaller and weaker than the grown man towering over me, and there was nothing I could do about it. He had been out on the town with my father, when they both returned late with their minds washed away. I was completely powerless against his drunken outburst. I was pressed between the wall and that monster, - praying with all of my being to be rescued- only to be met with disappointment. My father was nowhere to be found since he had already gone to sleep off the liquor.

I never understood how someone could be frozen in fear, until he had frozen my very thoughts. There was not a moment in my life that I could reflect back to in order to free my mind of him. Not only had I lost the ability to move but I lost my ability to think. My body was being held still but my mind was trapped. I had never felt more powerless in my life. A regretful acceptance washed over me as the sullen memory of my mother flooded forwards. It was honestly less of a memory- but the feeling of her.

The same feeling I had when we last embraced, before she left. It was an unbelievably sad acceptance of the unstoppable, but it felt like her and that was all that mattered. It was the only thing of her that I had to hold onto since she was sent to live by the sea. I could not allow myself to let the feeling go, no matter what. God I missed her so much. In my times of need I would bring my eyes upwards to the heavens to ask for her help, as she has always brought a refreshing sense of peace to the crashing waves of thoughts in my head, which were plentiful enough to fill a thousand seas.

After he had put his true self-interested intentions on display during his pitiful state of drunkenness he continued to further embarrass himself by passing out on the parlour floor, as I stood lost in a trance. I felt entirely detached from my own being. I couldn't think of anything, no matter how hard I tried, not even the atrocity I just endured. My head felt like a balloon inflated with air hot enough it may burst into flames that would eventually consume it. I was an utter void of myself and anything I had been.

The only thing I could think to do was carry on with the regular motions to prepare for bed as I had been before. I would tell myself to just continue on with the same daily tasks I had always done and nothing else. I felt it was time for me to dissolve into nothing and wander the background of my own life as it passed by. It was like a switch in my brain had been waiting to be flipped so I could finally operate like a machine and never have to think about my own actions again.

I couldn’t recall the amount of days that went by until my father finally said something. He was kind with his words, “What has happened to you? You were once my sweet Ida, a social young girl with bright prospects. Only 17 years old, you have no need to be moping around. You had a bright future filled with marriage and happy children. Now you quietly sit and say nothing about anything… I’m not saying you are doomed, or that all hope is lost though, I’m simply telling you to cheer up, darling.” Darling; he would call my mother that.

It took a weary toll of exertion to simply pull my mind and tongue together in cooperation for the moment it would require to compose a single phrase. I never had anything to say anymore anyway. Concern was slowly draped over his concentrated face while he moved his lips, as if practising before he spoke, “I’ll always love you, and I do miss our daily banter about the on goings of the world around us… I miss you.”

I was polite, yet impersonal with ym response. “I miss our conversations over afternoon tea as well, father.” I had always enjoyed him and our time together, but in that instant I could not bring myself to give him the reply I knew he wanted, -that I loved him as well- I could not bring myself to lie.

I gave him the only half- truth I could bear ,“I've just been a bit more tired than usual lately.”

In his usual caring and fatherly voice he told me, “You should be resting more then. What else might you be doing for all those hours you spend locked away from the rest of the world, like a prisoner?”

A prisoner, that was it, that was exactly what it felt like. The only thing I could think to say was, “Oh sometimes I read, or sew, or even just sit.” Well that was certainly a lie, I had been sleeping more at that time than I ever had.

He had started to walk back into his study, but then stopped and without turning back to face me said, “I’m terribly sorry if I have done something to upset you in any way.”

I had been so drained by participating in the conversation that, without a second thought I replied, “It’s alright,” I immediately felt bad, my response made it seem that I believed he was to blame. It wasn't his fault that we didn't carry on about our usual conversations.

My heart ached for our old conversations of intellect, or whatever else we found interesting that day; whatever that made us feel as though we were close enough that no one on earth could come close to us. I would assume the unfortunate reason I could no longer hold a conversation was that I had completely been consumed with self- loathing. I was made to feel as though I was less than the dust I swept from the floor, so why even attempt to constitute any regards? I was entirely guilt ridden with the fact that I had allowed such a thing to happen with the best friend of my father in my own house. It wasn't my fault,- I didn't want it and I didnt ask for it- but I still felt I was the one to blame.

The thought that this was his way to exact revenge for what my father had done with his wife crossed my mind seldom, but still enough to have taken it into genuine consideration. My father’s actions very well may have been the cause of all this, and I had no choice but to carry more hate for him. I usually never wanted to think of my father poorly, so I often packed the idea into the smallest box and pushed it to the furthest corner of my mind. When I allowed myself to hate him though, I would pray for the downfall of such a horrible man for committing such great sin.

* * *

I hated the way my mind would separate itself from my life. I hated the way I would look in on my own life as if I were a stranger looking in. I wanted to be able to love my father so I could better see him. I didn't want to see him as the horrible man he is because of the things he has done, but as the man who raised me and deserved my forgiveness. After all, if it weren’t for him I would be all alone in this world.

We were the last bit of each other's family, because of that we were quite close, whether it be by choice or that he had no one else to ramble on with about his antics. I had always felt that we had a special sort of understanding of the other. It was something gained through similar experiences, rather than the time we spent in each other's company. We knew each other because we knew the things that the other felt and went through, because of that, I wanted to tell my father what happened in order to mend the fresh gap between us. I wanted his comfort now more than anything during all of the confusion and sadness.

I wanted to destroy the life of the man who did it. I wanted to tear him apart in every cruel and gruesome way possible. It wasn’t fair that he had ended me and was allowed to carry on with his life as usual. It wasn’t fair, and I wanted to exact what I believed would be justice .One windy day I had decided I had enough of him continuing to show his face and never acknowledging the destruction he caused within me, so I told my father.

He didn't believe me. The sense of betrayal spread throughout me like a sickness attacking my heart. Since he obviously held no compassion there was no way I could allow myself to show how enraged he made me. I believe I rather gracefully accepted his backstabbing behaviour with a sniffle. We stood staring at each other for a moment when I couldn't hold it in any longer, I had to laugh at him. His absolutely stupidity on the matter was nothing short of comical. His inability to wrap his head around the fact was so absurd that I couldn't stand it. He reminded me of a clown as surprise and anger were both equally painted on his face in the most animated fashion.

I never felt so instantly relieved while also being terrified as I was in the moment he said I was actually to be sent away. I felt an odd sort of mourning from within at the news. Since my father had been my only sort of friend, his abandonment was worse than I imagined. I never thought I would lose both my last bit of family and my only friend in one fell swoop. The mourning of my father felt far more difficult to ignore than that of my mother. He had not been taken from me as she was, rather he chose to abandon me. We were standing right in front of each other, yet we could not be further apart. I was reaching out to him for help with both hands and he had answered by turning his back to me.

* * *

I had always heard stories of how men were the dumb ones, because of how they could never understand even the most mundane emotions, and how easy it was to seduce and convince them. It would take a man who had lived an entire life to put into words the way a young girl feels at any given moment. They always said men couldn’t even grasp the concepts we endure, and because of that I was always led to believe that men were stupid. However, once my father abandoned me, I learned for myself they aren’t stupid. Instead, they are the most cruel and vile tyrants to ever exist.

At least I had finally gotten away from that horrible house, with that horrible room that constantly stood as a reminder to me of what he did. Leaving felt like my sentence had ended, -I was freed from prison- and I could feel myself returning. It was like watching a figure emerge from a fog filled meadow and not being entirely sure of their identity, while still being hopeful it was the same person who you had sent off earlier. It was a slow and troublesome journey with hope being the only reason not to succumb to the exhaustion.

Though the colour returned to my face, the anger I had previously assured myself that would follow never came, and I felt entirely neutral. The only bit of anger I felt was because I knew I should be upset. I had convinced myself to be angry. The uncomfortable journey away was worth it, but absolutely was not helping to improve my mood at all.

* * *

The large building of psychiatry I arrived at seemed to be consumed with a miasma of despair. The bleak umbrage cast on me upon arrival sprouted a pit in my stomach that made this suddenly seem all too real. The atmosphere that floated along with the staff was friendly, but I soon discovered where there was a lack of company there was also a lack of incentive. Perhaps I simply could not be left alone with my own thoughts. I suppose my thoughts are the ones that have led me to be here after all.

The room I was led to was the same as that of a hospital, but far more empty and much less inviting. The thin metal bed frame had the most beautiful differently coloured paint layers peeling off, making each one pleasantly visible. The variety appeared so brightly against the white tile covering everything else, it felt as though their colours shone only for me. It made me happy, for the first time since it happened I was happy again. Even if it was because of the peeling paint colours on my bed frame in the physciatric ward, I was still happy to be happy again. I couldn’t believe the first thing to make me happy since then was simply the colours of old paint.

* * *

I had to only take eight short steps to reach the illuminating window across the room. Unfortunately there were no other light sources in the room, which I knew meant it would be completely dark in here at night. The glass was clouded by old layers of dirt and from a lack of cleaning prevented by the bars encasing the exterior. It was hot to stand in the sun, and father always said the sunlight would ruin my complexion anyway, so I went to sit on my beautiful bed. The fabric of thin linen sheets reminded me of a dress my mother would always wear to the beach, and for another blissfully brief moment I could feel her again. Her memory had never been so prevalent in everything as it was after the incident, and I hated that I would then always associate her memory with his.

Who knows how long I had been lost in my own thoughts before I was startled by a man with a white coat who unexpectedly came to stand before me with a doleful expression. He had something about him that reminded me of my father in the worst way. The cunning and deceiving part that always got him whatever he wanted. I didn’t want to assume he had malicious intent though, after all he was to be my doctor. It was also partially because men like him give attention to girls like me, and since I had seen the way he carried himself I made up my mind. I was here to get better and return home, but oh well.

He fashioned a nervous smile across his face and gestured towards the empty spot on the bed next to me. We both knew that he was completely in control of this situation, but he had still asked my permission to sit- a right afforded to anyone. He had given me power over something I didn't even know was a decision, it wasn't much to allow a stranger to sit next to me, but he made me feel powerful. “My name is Sigismund Freud and I am the doctor here to help your hysterical situation. I dont want you to feel unfortunate for it though, as your contraction of hysteria was completely out of your control and rather a neurological response.”

He used all of these complicated words to describe daedalean matters I did not care to understand, or even listen to. I wanted him to listen to me. I wanted him to love me. I just wanted him to dote on my every whim. I wanted to tell him everything and for him to simply stare at me as his muse of physcology.

“How are you going to cure me then, doctor?” I questioned in a sarcastic tone as I believed there was nothing wrong with me to begin with.

His demeanour seemed to gain confidence as he responded, “We are going to intrude on your subconscious mind to find the object of your condition and then work to unknot the tangle of thoughts I'm sure consume your mind.”

He lifted his hand and placed his hand on the side of my head, then brushed his thumb over my forehead, as if wiping away my thoughts. His simple actions gave me authority over him, and the delicate touch between us had me entirely fixated with him.

In an attempt to bait more conversation I asked, “What exactly must I do in order to fix myself?”

“We will have to work together on this, but I’m sure that right now you are in need of rest after your long trip all the way to London. We will have to begin tomorrow.”

I was shocked that he wasn’t going to stay, and it made me angry enough to nearly shout, “Get out.” I meant every ounce of harshness put into my words this time. I had been so strongly enamoured with him in such a short time, and now he was taking himself away from me. It wasn’t fair

He looked almost satisfied by my reaction, as if I had proven a point of his, and with a quick smile responded, “Very well ma’am,” then stood to leave.

The flash of evil that shone on his face during that charming smile was more than enough to remind me that there was a high possibility of him being horrendous. I couldn’t allow myself to chase him, because after all, it wasn't even him that I wanted. I just wanted to be powerful and respected, like a king sitting high on the throne, ordering his subjects around. The doctor made me feel as though I had at least one royal subject to order around, and for that I will always be grateful. He gave back a grain of the power that had been taken from me by his kind to begin with.

* * *

My hopes began to fade away, until it became a struggle to remember what they were to begin with. I was so bored out of my mind, and I didn't know what to do as I lay wide awake in my beautiful bed. I should have just gone to sleep, but I felt almost excited for my treatment tomorrow. I missed being able to look at my bed, even though there were a million tasks I would've normally rather been doing. I couldn’t see anything in the blackout, and the darkness scared me less than usual. I was given some sort of medication upon my arrival that caused unnatural waves of dreary tiredness, but now that I was also genuinely exhausted I began to drift in and out of consciousness.

In my restless boredom I felt my way to the bottom of the bed, and began to run my fingers along the paint chips. The small pieces of chalky pigment felt like soft flakes of glass on my fingertips. The soft crumbling of the paint was nearly silent, despite the harsh destruction I was bringing. The repeated hypnotic contact with the surface put me in a trance-like state of mind and I became much more exhausted than I had been earlier. I felt as though I had been hypnotised, but luckily was able to convince myself to just sleep it off.

* * *

The sun was much brighter when I woke up than it had been at any point the previous day. I couldn’t believe I was going to have to suffer every morning with an east facing window that would always wake me at dawn. In order to save my eyes, I turned from the sun. I missed my own room, with the wonderful drapes I had covering my windows from the same bitter morning sun. I happened to glance upon my poor bedframe and what I had done to it when I couldn't sleep the previous night. All of the beautiful flakes colours were still clinging to my hands or scattering across the floor like sand.

I had betrayed myself by destroying the only thing I had enjoyed there. The evidence of it still stuck to my palms, and as I tried to wipe it away the pieces would only splinter in my skin and crack into more shards. After my desperate attempt to rid my hands of the colours on my skin, my eyes fell back to the bed frame which was now the same colourless white as the rest of the room's contents. Why had I so willingly ruined my own happiness?

I turned back to the same door I had walked through just hours ago, but now kept me encased in this small corner of the world. It was a heavy metal thing that looked as if it was made to keep an entire ocean out. The small square window near the top danced with the shadows of the people that were passing by. I wondered what they were doing, and then decided I didn’t care, I just wanted to be out there, to be out of this place. The tears began to collect in my eyes for the first time since my arrival when someone burst through the door without warning.

My gaze had been so intently fixed on the door for such a time that the moment it first began to move without a warning, such an overwhelming feeling of panic overcame me, and I was instantly pulled back to that night. However, all I could find myself thinking about once I shut my eyes in fright was my mother, and she was enough to bring me back to reality before Dr. Freud had noticed I was taken in the first place. He opened the floodgates and stepped through. His arrival seemed to change the air around us back to the waves of mixing emotions that filled my head since that night. I abruptly turned away, as if it would’ve helped to drive him away. Looking at the warm sun and feeling it fall against my skin was much more bearable then, since I had at last adjusted to the brightness of the morning. Between finally being able to enjoy the sun as usual and the blankets I was still clutching I finally felt a bit of balance in my thoughts and the racing of my mind seemed to slow to a stroll.

My peace was shortly interrupted by his inquisition,“How have you been since we last spoke?” he questioned in a flat voice.

Without even caring to look at him I responded, “I’ve been fine, now how are you going to fix me so that I can return home?” All I wanted was to go back home.

“Well I have spoken with your father about what you believe happened that night, and it has been decided the best course of treatment for you begins with a type of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors”

“What do you mean when you say the events I believed took place? It doesn’t matter what I believe or not, it did happen, there's no question about it.” I felt as though humanity as a whole had failed me in that moment, as no one seemed to believe me.

“Since you have been a young woman for quite some time now, it is sure that you are to have certain desires, and that when they were not met, -likely because you had repressed them- you subconsciously reflected your wants onto the friend of your father.”

It was my fault.

“Here are the pills I mentioned,” he took his hand from his pocket and placed two small light azure coloured circles in my palm. Seeing their dusty exterior reminded me of the paint I had ruined and suddenly I had brought my own emotions crashing down again and I remembered what I had done. At least his annoyingness was there to break the silence I had created, “You will be taking six of them everyday until you improve or another treatment is advised, I must be off to see the other patients now.”

“Thank you,” I truly meant it this time, after all he was helping me. I did not want to mean it, I wanted to continue hating him for siding with my father in the belief that I wanted all this to happen.

Once he finally pulled the door shut behind him I quickly glanced out the window before I tilted my head back and dryly swallowed the medicine. It tasted how it looked- like chalk. When I decided to stand from my bed it let out a pitiable groan as though it had been waiting for the strain to be lifted from its old bones. I didn’t like how confined the area of my room was, but at least it wasn’t a journey to the window. I could have stood there and gazed into the trees surrounding this hellish place for all of eternity.

* * *

The next morning came and filled my room with the same irritating and disturbing sunlight as the day before. There was no point in fighting the way of the sun, so I tried to turn away from the glare and go back to sleep. Instead of resting, I caught a glimpse of someone quickly hiding from my sight through the puny window on the enormous door. I was probably delusional from a lack of rest and simply saw a reflection of the morning sun. Even if someone were to enter while I rested, the door was loud enough it could wake an army. It didn't matter to me who they were or what they wanted, I wanted sleep.

Only moments later, the door screeched open carefully, but that did not stop me from immediately waking up and forcing myself to become aware of my surroundings. Dr. Freud walked in with a slightly startled expression.

“I had not quite expected you to be awake yet, but you are, so I might as well ask you these questions. Of course only if you are awake enough to answer right now,” his humble tone was the least I deserved from him since he had just nearly caused me to die of fright.

“Why would you just walk in without knocking or even saying anything while I was asleep? I just nearly passed away from the fear you caused me by barging in here.” I was upset that he scared me so much by doing so little, and so I made sure to show it in my tone.

Even though I just spoke rather crossly with him, he remained calm and kindly replied, “I apologise for the intrusion, I could always come back later for the questions about your medication if you would rather me go.”

In an attempt to save myself from my previous rudeness I allowed him to continue by saying, “Well we are already speaking and you’ve made my heart race so quickly I shouldn't be able to rest for another thousand years anyway, get on with your interrogation.”

He replied, “It isn’t an interrogation, and more so simply me trying to help you by understanding how certain treatments and substances affect you,” his tone staying patient and understanding.

In a much kinder and playful way I argued, “Whatever you would like to call it, it's still unnecessary questioning.”

As if he had no care at all for what I was actually saying to him, he plainly said, “I’m sorry you feel that way. My first question would be; how did your medication make you feel, better, worse, or no change at all”

Since I had barely been awake for a few seconds before being so terribly scared and not having any time at all to myself to think about anything, I realised that moments after I consumed the medication my recollection simply ended. “I don’t think anything happened, I ate the medicine you gave me yesterday, then went to look at the sky from my window shortly after and… then that’s all I can remember.” I imagine the look on my face was that of a drunk idiot after a night out trying to recall the events that took place.

His eyes widened with unbridled excitement for a few moments, but then the expression was cleanly wiped from his face. I could tell he had a million other things to ask at that moment, but he showed restraint by simply peering back at the papers in his hand and asking the next question, “Would you feel that the treatment was helpful with the disease in which you have?”

Startled, I responded,“I wasn’t aware I had a diagnosis of any disease, but I suppose the effects were much better than how I have been going through life recently.”

With what seemed to be regret in his voice, he told me, “Your father and I discussed your diagnosis of hysteria once he told me your story. I also believe we are done with our interrogation,as you put it. Here is your medication for the day, I must be off now, as there are other patients for me to visit,” he gave me the same balled up bit of chalk I had yesterday and I closed my fingers around them.

Dr. Freud left without another word and I was left alone again to take the medication. What if I had decided not to take them, and simply went back to bed and ignored this entire ordeal? Before I accepted my fate to forget the rest of the day yet again, I decided to continue the new ritual of standing before the window. I placed the pills in my mouth and gave them a hard swallow. I wish the doctor would have left me with some sort of refreshment to wash it all down, I could feel the blue powder coating the inside of my throat like thick paint. The sky was far more beautiful that morning than the previous, I only wish I had remembered it in greater detail.

When I rose the next morning there was no sun out, nor a doctor watching me through the window, only clouds dropping their rain behind a deafening silence. My peace was split open by that same grating door that was to be the bane of my mornings. The usual Dr. Freud, who usually came to visit, wasn't waiting there. Instead of him standing at the door waiting to say something irritating as usual, it was the doctor my mother had gone to see, Dr. Breuer. He said nothing and only extended his arm to give me the pills. I wanted to knock them out of his hand so hard they would go flying across the room, never to be seen or consumed by me again. Instead, out of respect for her memory, I took them from his cold hand and kept thinking back to my mother.

I paced back and forth in frustration with the fact that the best course of treatment they found is for me to simply take my ability to remember. These moonstone pills that had been prescribed for my apparently unwell mind made me feel the nothingness I had craved for my overcrowded mind for so long. They made me feel as if I had died. I finally wanted to live again, but they kept trying to take my life from me. I went back to the window to carry out this unfortunate task. Looking at the sky now only made me lament for the sun’s rays that had so irritated me earlier.

* * *

The sun had gloriously returned to its rightful place in my window to wake me the next morning. Immediately I donned my blankets and ran to the sill that was coated in several heavy layers of pale paint. I was so happy the sun had decided to return. Deep down I had hoped the sky heard my mourning, and that I had been the reason for the bright rays streaming past the bars of this new prison. I wanted to remember that moment always, the moment the sun had shown just for me.

The glee I was filled with immediately drained from me when the door was opened again. The doctor had returned himself that day, him and three other men I had never seen before. I was terrified of what they were to do, but I kept trying to focus on the sun I had just convinced to return. Dr. Freud came to stand before me with the same excitement I had seen plastered across his face earlier. A man like him experiencing this much joy can never be a good sign to those around him. “You have been here for several months now, yet your answers have not wavered, therefore we will be improving the course of your treatment from here on out as much as possible.”

There was no tone in his voice no matter how hard I strained to hear it, how could he look so happy yet sound so monotone?

“Are you sure you have been taking your own medication? I have only been trapped here for less than a single week, how could you ever possibly perceive such a short time as seven whole months?” The medicine. I can’t remember. He tricked me.

In a quite sarcastic way he responded, “I suppose I have no real definitive proof, though I could show you the newspaper for today, it would have the date printed there. You could also take a moment to realise how grown out your hair has become in this time, or even my own for that matter.”

Everything I thought to have been true was all revealed to be a lie, I thought I would leave soon, but as it turns out I have been trapped here longer than I could imagine. I quickly asked him, “Then what is my new treatment going to be?”

“Our next recommended step in treatment would be hypnosis. However, since there is enough reason to believe you may become violent or otherwise generally difficult I have brought these men to be of assistance. We will also be slightly restraining you for your own safety as well, but there’s no need for you to worry, you can quickly be removed if you begin having a seizure” His subtle allusion to my mother’s death was by far the most unnerving thing he said to me, and my blood ran cold because of it.

The men behind the doctor had an almost military bearing about them, which only made me feel much more uneasy about this. Dr. Freud tightly grabbed my arm and practically dragged me towards them. As soon as one of his henchmen had me in his grasp, the doctor released me. I had never put up an argument against any other treatment, so why was he now letting me be treated like an old dog? The burly man who was gripping my arms turned me about to face out of the room, and I was finally able to catch my first sight of the hall outside since I first entered that cell. There was nothing new or special about it though. There was a minimal lighting filtering through more bars that also entrapped the high windows, the white tiles that covered everything here as well helped to illuminate the lower portions of the hall in a rather smart way.

The doctor who swore to help me stood right outside the doorway to my accommodation and watched as I was dragged away. Yet again another man who was there to help me, only able to meet me with deception. I had no perception as to what was happening or where I was being taken off to. It wouldn’t be as unpleasant if these men would simply let me go so I could tell them that I am perfectly fine to walk on my own without being hauled around like a mule.

* * *

The new room I was shoved into only contained a smaller wooden chair to the side, and a rather uncomfortable seeming chair draped with ribbons of leather, which stood in the middle of the room as if on display. One of the men grabbed me and carried me to the chair as if I had completely lost my ability to do anything for myself. He at least allowed me to sit down on my own, but as soon as my back was against the cold metal I was swarmed by the other men. They immediately went to work holding my arms against the rests and restricting my legs to not leave the chair’s. They used those most uncomfortable pale straps to keep me in the awkward position I had been forced into. The thought of resisting them never crossed my mind, yet they were still using an unnecessarily great force when restraining me.

Once they finished fastening the straps containing me, the brutes seemed to disappear and draw back to their shadows lying just beyond my sight. I was restrained oddly, so that I could still wriggle around enough to get comfortable, but not enough to turn around. I couldn’t be sure where they had gone off to, or if they even left the room. I felt there was no point in trying to free myself, since I was certain the straps would not loosen at all anyway, simply based on how harsh the men were with the clasps. I waited for so long that I nearly gave up hope, it seemed an eternity would pass before anything would happen. In all my boredness I sat there making several attempts to recall the many months I had apparently been absent minded for with no success.

Apparently the hinges of the door to this room were much more often oiled since there was no screech that followed its opening. I had only been made aware of someone else’s presence from the sudden sound of footsteps approaching from behind me. As the sound came nearer, I saw that it was Dr. Freud who had finally arrived to begin my treatment. The anticipation on his face was more than enough to send shivers down my spine.

He remained silent, save for the sporadic shuffling of papers and occasional muttering to himself. Then, without much warning, the doctor went to the other chair and began dragging it across the tiles, he only came to a halt because he couldn’t move the chair any nearer to me. The sound reminded me of home because of how the chair legs would screech against the floor with short pauses between for the breaks in the tilework, much like the distorted version of a train whistle sounding as it made its way through my home town.

I think I was just too scared to do anything other than watch the actions of the doctor, and prepare myself to be at his mercy. He let the papers hit the ground with a sharp slap as he lowered himself to take a seat in his newly located chair. The piercing contrast to the previous deafening silence was appreciated, however, it was not enough to mask the dread I held for what might happen in the next few moments. We both sat and stared at the features on each other's face as an awful silence played around us. Dr. Freud’s voice cut through the lullaby to finally explain to me, “In a moment I will begin to hypnotise you. Your subconscious mind will be sent back to that night so that we might understand what actually happened, rather than what you think or desire to have taken place”

He began a gentle and soothing rhythmic tapping on my knee, followed by the words, “Listen to my voice, you can hear my voice. Feel my tapping you, you can feel it through your body like a ripple. I have your mind now, we must look back to tha…”

I wouldn’t allow my mind to think back to it, not after all this time, I couldn’t. He was forcing my mind into a great battle against itself. It was my will versus the control he held on my mind. The head began to split open with the most unfathomable agony, a great wash of increasingly unrelenting pain seized every muscle in my body with an extreme tightness. There was also a terrible whiteness that filled my eyes, it was so bright that I was sure my vision would never recover from it.

In the middle of all the struggle I was enduring, Dr Breuer's voice urgently shouted, “That’s too much,you have gone too far! You must let her go now! She can’t possibly endure this!”

I knew I was right, I knew this shouldn't be happening. I never should have trusted these men.

After what felt like centuries, the pain began to fade and became more and more bearable. The blinding light subsided alongside the despair until I felt deprived of every sense. The darkness that now occupied my sight was comforting, as though I shut my eyes to rest. It wasn’t that of an absence of light, rather it was the presence of darkness that intruded my sight such as in slumber. I felt like I was asleep, yet fully aware of my own idea that I was sleeping.

The tranquil moment to myself was interrupted by my mother’s sweet voice telling me, “Wake up darling, it's time to get up.”

I attempted to open my eyes to see her again but it was such a strain, feeling as though my eyelids were slabs of marble that I could never possibly lift. Her voice was as absolutely mellifluous and full of genuine love as when I was a small child. I wanted to force myself awake so urgently that I could feel the panic in me rise until my eyes were finally able to flutter open. The very first thing I caught sight of was my most beautiful mother. I maintained such a strong focus on her, for I was so afraid that if I stopped looking, she would disappear entirely. I felt a gentle pain in my heart such as that from a needle poking through fabric to mend it, it was the torment of missing her and then suddenly there she stood looking over me as the waves crashed around us. I was finally happy again, for in the end I was able to join my mother at the sea in the sky.

[theoldtherebeforehq]

✗ CONFIDENTIAL TRIBUTE FACILITY SIGN UP SHEET records the attendance of Vybe Binn, a maintenance electrician / tribute from District 5. The applicable authorities may note, that the 20 year old non-binary / they/them is attentive, gentle, and detail-oriented, but has also been known to be jumpy, timid, and meek. Similarities in appearance can be seen with Diego Tinoco. According to previous reports, they’re often associated with grease-stained jumpsuits, and meticulously organized toolboxes.

BIO

Vybe wasn’t old enough to remember anything about the Dark Days, but the rebellion had always felt like a ghost in their walls. Their mother rarely spoke about anything ever, preferring the silence in her own head to the world around her; and sometimes they could hear their father screaming in his sleep. The way people look at their parents, at their whole family, made Vy think that surely they had meant something once. Not that it mattered now. It’s not like they had won.

Maybe their parents weren’t the most present, but they tried. Vy knew they tried. After all, their dad had taught them how to sodder, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he spent years making sure that once Vy left school they’d be ready for a job working the dam alongside him? Even their mother, who could barely bring herself to speak, sang Vy to sleep when they got sick. They had a fine childhood. It was stable, it was steady.

Then they turned 12 and everything changed.

Their name got pulled out of the bowl.

Only one slip in there, and their name got pulled. The sad murmurs had started, the shaking of heads, and then a voice, a voice Vy knew in their bones, rising above the others, “I volunteer as tribute.”

Reed. Vy’s eldest cousin, due to turn 22 at the end of the week. Reed had stepped in front of them, pushed them back towards their mother, said again, “I volunteer as tribute.”

Anyone who knew Reed loved him. And most of the District knew Reed. Good head on his shoulders, everyone said. Meant for something better. Vy had agreed. Everyone loved Reed. Vy had loved him most.

Reed had died horribly, of course. He’d made it far enough along that the whole District had thought he’d really had a chance, and then died horribly. Vy saw it in their dreams still, every night.

Every year since, Vy prayed they’d get Reaped again and have a chance to make up for it. Every year since, it hadn’t happened. 

Until it did. And honestly Vybe couldn’t help feeling a bit relieved. How could they blame the District for what they’d practically begged for themselves? It didn’t matter that they barely knew how to fight, much less how to handle anything other than kitchen knives, wrenches, and wiring. It wasn’t as if Vy planned on winning. They just had to live long enough to make Reed proud.

What’s their District token?

A bracelet made of phased-out gears from the dam, given to them by their father.

What is their weapon of choice?

They’re hoping for a wrench.

[the-severe-empath]

Someday in February Part 2

He makes an effort to show that he means what he says this time as he always does and it ends the same way it always has, him getting too comfortable and taking my kindness for weakness. He texts me to talk and hangout and I reluctantly agree and what always happens, happens. He yells to the top of his lungs that we are just friends and that we (he in particular) are not ready to be in a relationship, yet the rules change when it comes to his doings. We are whatever he wants us to be, whenever he wants us to be it because I allowed it. I allowed it because I miss what we used to be. I miss how I used to feel when he would give me his attention for however many hours at a time. I miss it because I actually felt like someone actually loved me. Like someone actually wanted me. I think it has something to do with the lack of attention I would get from my father/ the slight abandonment issues from my mother... Boys don't really give me attention in that way so when one finally does I try to hold onto it. Although in the moment it is actually hard to believe that someone would actually want me. Due to the abandonment issues mentioned previously, they have unfortunately developed into self esteem issues. I know I have gotten so much better over the years but I still have quite a ways to go before I love myself the way I want to love myself. I feel like I could reach that point in my life if I lose weight and become slim but I know I must be happy in the now because I never know when life can be taken away from me. So I must be grateful for every moment. But it is a work in progress that I acknowledge and vow to conquer. Now back to him...

Today is Valentines Day and even though he has made it very clear that he doesn't care for me... a part of me still thought he would keep his word. That he would follow through with what he said he would do. That he would show what he “felt”. But I've seen him today and he hasn't said a word to me (well he may have said hey to me but I don’t think it was to me). But its for the best because I don’t know how I would react if he were to speak or give something to me. He better keep that same energy for my birthday and the following days because I am tired of his shit. He has constantly hurt me for no apparent reason and this time was the final straw. How dare he humiliate me in front of our friend when he was the one boohoo crying to his friends about how he's so sad I wouldn't even look at him?! And now has the gall to turn everything on me because he has an audience! I don’t and never will understand him. Its not my job too. He can take the mess that is himself and leave me the hell alone because I deserve none of it. I have done nothing but show him kindness and forgiveness time and time again. And what has he done? Stomped on it and spat in my face each and every time. He has no regard for my feelings and wellbeing and this is why I can never associate with him in the way I have before. He doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve my love. He doesn't deserve me.

The hard part is just getting over the memories and feelings. Because through all of the heart ache, there were good moments. There were times where I thought we were moving in the right direction and could actually be something. I see a lot of my father in him and I believe that’s why I care for him so much. It doesn't help that we have so many things in common. When we can just sit and enjoy each other’s company... it meant the world to me. Especially when we would laugh and vibe together... I’m going to miss that. But it must go because these tiny moments aren't worth the days of hurt and pain that soon follows. No amount of happiness is worth being disrespected or treated as less than. I know my worth and so will every other person I meet.

Reflection:

*sighs* unfortunately, the acknowledgement of my double consciousness is a bittersweet reality that'll continue to plague my love life for the near future. As I am sharing these reflections with you all, I have gain a sense of discipline and covenant with God that has saved me from the shackles of accepting less than the bare minimum. However, we are still in the beginning of my love journey. Bear with me readers.

[kirstinmdarling]

I was chatting with one of my besties--on our usual topic of decolonization in action.

Two main points I made that stand out to me:

We are our mothers & our father's line provides the path of our privilege within our current structures of patriarchal development

Language has been homogenized, and we have to deconstruct this without projecting it onto meaning & definition

always, keep in mind that these are my thoughts based on my lens, how I move in the world, and what I have learned from & about my ancestors that are etched in my bones. we all come with different variances of articulation and movement in the world, and no matter how hard we try or good we get at seeing outside of ourselves we are still our nativity.

How this conversation began:

I was lecturing my cat about galivanting in the forest because she is white and can't easily hide from the coyotes that could gobble her up--and I would be very sad.

Insert yt folks...more specifically those that colonized & their descendants that uphold these systems--just running into situations without knowing their surroundings or the possible danger.

I mentioned that well, they lost their traditions so long ago that this movement has become traditional, or their "Heritage." 600 years is a long time but also a short time, and it doesn't justify how we have been made invisible even to ourselves.

With the trend of at-home DNA testing the spaces of reconnection have been even muddier than before.

I attribute this to Blackstone acquiring Ancestry, announced Aug 5, 2020, finalized Dec 4, 2020. In turn, pumping money into marketing. I have many theories on why and how this will move based on historical astrological trends and delineations. There is a great misunderstanding that DNA will teach you culture. DNA doesn't drop even in a way that the physicality of higher percentages will be dominant. This does not, in fact, teach the history that lives in your body--but I recognize that for some, it opens the door of what has been washed away.

How this conversation took shape:

My fascination with bees and their myth. My middle name and surname both have deep associations with bees, hence my ongoing childhood fascination, with not only the history of husbandry but the myths of life bringers & soul carries. + how the stinger less bee of the Maya are endangered.

So, like the bees we are also endangered. The biggest form of rebellion is to respectfully reclaim and reconnect. To connect with the homing sensation in our bodies. I think so many of us feel out of place or lost because we have been taken or relocated over generations.

Are "heritage" tests (as theyre marketed) a recolonization project? The gentrification at our attempts at rebuilding through assimilation?

[lunarticxenia]

Asteroid Leviathan #8813

Asteroid Leviathan #8813 deals with our inner demons and things that make life hard for us. One might apply more to you than another, also everything might not apply because this asteroid can present differently for many people. Hope you guys enjoy, and for anyone who’s sending questions I’m trying my best to answer them! My post on how to find asteroids in the natal chart is here. 

TW: Abuse, ED, S*xual assault. 

♠️ 1H/Aries: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 1H or in Aries regards their appearance, path in life, and general sense of self. Their inner demons could also regard their identity- perhaps they struggle with their sexuality or gender if they’re LGBT+. Individuals with this would likely pursue things like plastic surgery, heavy make-up, tattoos, piercings, and/or heavy working out to “fix” their appearance. They might also feel very lost with themselves as well, and don’t know who they truly are. They also might struggle with their path in life, they don’t know what they’re supposed to do and just feel lost all the time. 

♠️ 2H/Taurus: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 2H or in Taurus might regard possessions, their sense of worth, their body, and food. Individuals with this may have or had an eating disorder (myself included). These individuals might also have really low self esteem, and have a low sense of worth. They might find themselves in abusive relationships and/or friendships because their sense of worth is so low. They also might struggle with money; they might have grown up poor or grew up envying what other people had. They also might place their sense of worth based on how much money they have and/or what possessions they have.  They might feel that if they don’t have the nicest clothes that they’re just not worthy of anything. This could also manifest as a person who uses retail therapy and/or in more extreme cases someone who will do anything for money even it’s illegal or immoral. 

♠️ 3H/Gemini: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 3H or in Gemini might regard around intelligence, communication, siblings, primary and secondary education, and aunts & uncles. These individuals may have problems with communicating or learning- this could definitely manifest as an ADHD and/or a speech impediment placement. If not this extreme, the individual might just have problems with communicating in general and/or studying i.e. they can’t say how they feel, they can’t study, etc. They also might feel insecure about their intelligence and fear that they’re not smart enough.They could’ve gotten bullied in primary and/or secondary school. They could also have a strained relationship with a sibling and/or an aunt or uncle. In some cases, I’ve seen individuals with this have to take on almost a parental role with their siblings and this can cause a lot of strain on the individual. This could just mean an individual’s relationship with their sibling causes them strain. 

♠️ 4H/Cancer: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 4H or in Cancer might regard around the family, the mother, emotions, and their femininity. These individuals may have issues with their family- they might not get along with them well or they just flat out don’t like their family or certain members in it. Moreover, this could be a mommy issues placement. Individuals with this also might struggle with feeling insecure about showing their emotions and/or might struggle releasing them in a healthy way. They might be embarrassed when they cry, and no one will ever know how they feel. They tend to suffer alone. They might also struggle with their feminine side. Individuals might view their feminine side as “weak” and might associate it with showing emotions which they don’t like to do. 

♠️ 5H/Leo: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 5H or in Leo might regard love, creativity, expression, and children. These individuals may have issues with love. Not really relationships necessarily, but just how they give and receive love. These individuals might also struggle with seeing what love is and may struggle with recognizing it. They might see validation or attention as love. They also might be afraid of falling in love. They also might stay in abusive relationships because they love that person so much or they think that the abuse is a form of love. Basically just issues with love and how they see it. If not that their inner demons could center around creativity; perhaps they get absorbed in their creative works and nothing they do is ever good enough. They also might have a fear of having children and/or they might have issues with their children if they have them. For a person in the LGBT+ community I could also see this placement manifesting as being afraid to express their sexuality and gender (since this deals with love). If not that, they just struggle with expressing themselves in general. 

♠️ 6H/Virgo: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 6H or in Virgo might regard their health, employment, and sense of usefulness. These individuals might struggle with their health. While it might just be normal health problems, I’ve seen it more manifested as a person’s mental state making them have health problems, i.e. a person with anxiety gets IBS. Whatever the mental disorder or issue is, it can cause issues to the individuals physical health. This could also manifest as a mental disorder as well since it deals with inner demons. I could also see this as a person who constantly has to help people and overexert themselves because they feel like they’re never doing enough. I could also see this as a person feeling insecure at work, perhaps they feel like they’re a bad worker, and that they’re not good enough to be there.

♠️ 7H/Libra: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 7H or in Libra might regard relationships, partnerships/marriage, and enemies. These individuals may have issues with their relationships, and it doesn’t have to be just romantic relationships. They could struggle with how they maintain relationships with others; there could be a lot of arguments and/or they might struggle to upkeep the relationship. They also might have a hard time being vulnerable to others which can hinder a relationship development. These individuals can also struggle with romantic partnerships- they might find themselves dealing with toxic and/or abusive partners. Relationships in general for them can just bring them a lot of pain and trauma. The individual could also struggle with enemies as part of their inner demons as it can bring them strain. This can also be a person who’s their own worst enemy. 

♠️ 8H/Scorpio: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 8H or in Scorpio might regard sex, intimacy and vulnerability. These individuals may have issues regarding sex. In extreme cases this can manifest as sexual harassment, abuse, or assault. In less extreme cases they might have a hard time with sex because they have a hard time being that vulnerable to another person. Or this can manifest as someone who has sex a lot because they seek intimacy. These individuals regardless tend to struggle with intimacy and allowing themselves to be vulnerable to others. They tend to be more closed off around others and it takes a long time for them to open up. They enjoy their privacy and being “the lone wolf” however this can make them quite lonely because they feel that no one truly knows them. 

♠️ 9H/Sagittarius: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 9H or in Sagittarius might regard traveling, higher education, religion, and philosophy. These individuals may have issues in regards to traveling- perhaps they desire to travel but are confined by their circumstances. They also might have had something bad happened if they have traveled. They also might’ve had some trauma happen in college and/or is a big source of their mental anguish. I could also see this manifesting as religious trauma, especially in LGBT+ individuals. In more extreme cases this could indicate abuse by someone in the clergy. These individuals might struggle with being the victim of their own philosophy of life. Maybe their philosophy of life is just naturally pessimistic and this can cause them a great deal of pain. 

♠️ 10H/Capricorn: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 10H or in Capricorn might regard one’s career, reputation/public image, the father, and masculinity. These individuals tend to struggle with their career. They might feel that they’re not good enough for their career and might have a lot of anguish in deciding a career. Their career might also bring them a lot of anguish perhaps they work as a cop or a social worker and they come across a lot of really traumatizing scenarios. They also might struggle with their reputation/public image-perhaps people spread rumors about them a lot or people see them in a negative light, and this can cause them a lot of sadness. This can also be a daddy issues placement. This can also manifest as someone struggling with their masculinity or masculine side. If it’s a guy or a masculine presenting person he/they might not feel they’re being masculine enough. 

♠️ 11H/Aquarius: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 11H or in Aquarius might regard friendships, their sense of belonging, and their hopes & dreams. Individuals with this might struggle with friendships. Their friendships can bring them a lot of anguish- perhaps they tend to befriend toxic people or they just tend to have a hard time making friends at all. They also might have a lot of trauma regarding friends- perhaps something traumatic happened when they were with friends or their friends caused their trauma. In extreme circumstances this can manifest as a friend causing the person abuse. This person also might not feel like they belong anywhere. No matter what they do they feel like an outcast. They also might have big hopes and dreams and they feel like they can’t accomplish them. They might also have unrealistic hopes and dreams and this can crash and burn. 

♠️ 12H/Pisces: The inner demons of individuals with Leviathan in the 12H or in Pisces might regard spirituality, death, and one’s hidden self. Individuals with this may have a fear of death. They also might’ve been traumatized by the death of someone important to them, and they haven’t been the same. They also might have hidden parts of themselves that they resent and don’t like to show to people. These parts of themselves can cause them strain. They also might struggle with spirituality as well, they might not feel that they’re spiritual enough or they might feel lost spiritually. They might not have anything to really believe in, and they just feel lost. 

[asoiaf-source]

Ned Dayne calls Arya ‘My lady’

Often Arya likes to deny she is a lady (adjective) or being called a Lady or m’lady (nouns) but, people often quote it without noting the context in which she protests this.

Sometimes she feels inadequate in comparison to ‘real’ ladies and thus not ladylike enough, it is the adjective use of the word she is objecting to.

Arya looked down at her ragged clothes and bare feet, all cracked and callused. She saw the dirt under her nails, the scabs on her elbows, the scratches on her hands. Septa Mordane wouldn't even know me, I bet. Sansa might, but she'd pretend not to. "My mother's a lady, and my sister, but I never was."  [ACOK - Arya V]  

Sometimes it is in frustration in being forced into a role she doesn’t feel she can live up to, and resents being constantly found lacking. Again the adjective use, as she doesn’t want to made into one.

"That's enough." Her father's voice was curt and hard. "The septa is doing no more than is her duty, though gods know you have made it a struggle for the poor woman. Your mother and I have charged her with the impossible task of making you a lady." "I don't want to be a lady!" Arya flared.  [AGOT - Arya II]  

Sometimes it is to encourage herself, to give herself strength - which she never learned to associated with the word ‘lady.’

I'm not a lady, Arya wanted to tell her, I'm a wolf. [ASOS - Arya IV]    

A common societal belief in Westeros of ladies being weaker, less capable or important, which is another reason she bulks against wanting to be seen this way.

"The woman is important too!" Arya protested. [AGOT - Arya I]

And how she feels when she is defeated and made to feel weak.

"Yes." That he was not Robb's man, she understood well enough. And that she was his captive. I could have stayed with Hot Pie. We could have taken the little boat and sailed it up to Riverrun. She had been better off as Squab. No one would take Squab captive, or Nan, or Weasel, or Arry the orphan boy. I was a wolf, she thought, but now I'm just some  stupid little lady again.  [ASOS - Arya III]

Sometimes it is because she doesn’t want to be elevated above others, like Gendry and Hot Pie. Feeling like it is a separator (which it is) between herself and others that she likes as friends. She doesn’t like to acknowledge the difference, perhaps something she learned observing Jon and not wanting to make him or others feels less than, like he must have felt at times - I’m sure she would have notice that.

"Lem didn't think so," Arya said glumly. Then it was time to go. When Hot Pie asked if he might kiss milady's hand, she punched his shoulder. "Don't call me that. You're Hot Pie, and I'm Arry."

- - -

"Would m'lady permit? Could I shoe your horses for you, and make swords for your lordly brothers?"

Sometimes he made her so angry. "You stop that!"

But then, you get this conversation in ASOS - Arya VIII between Ned Dayne and Arya that (to me) informs the reader on how Arya thinks about being called a lady in normal interactions.

No judgements, no mockery, no criticism, just two people having a polite conversation.

"My lady?" Ned said at last. "You have a baseborn brother . . . Jon Snow?"

"He's with the Night's Watch on the Wall."  Maybe I should go to the Wall instead of Riverrun. Jon wouldn't care who I killed or whether I brushed my hair . . . "Jon looks like me, even  though he's bastard-born. He used to muss my hair and call me 'little  sister.'" Arya missed Jon most of all. Just saying his name made her sad. "How do you know about Jon?"  

Arya just meet Ned, she doesn’t consider him a friend or anything, he is politely making conversation (about her favorite topic Jon, can’t hurt) and she never bulks at being called a lady by him. Even when Gendry mocks them for it.

"You have a House?" That was stupid; he was a squire, of course he had a House. "Who are you?"

"My lady?" Ned looked embarrassed. "I'm Edric Dayne, the . . . the Lord of Starfall."

Behind them, Gendry groaned. "Lords and ladies," he proclaimed in a disgusted tone. Arya plucked a withered crabapple off a passing branch and whipped it at him, bouncing it off  his thick bull head. "Ow," he said. "That hurt." He felt the skin above his eye. "What kind of lady throws crabapples at people?"  

"The bad kind," said Arya, suddenly contrite. She turned back to Ned. "I'm sorry I didn't know who you were. My lord."  

"The fault is mine, my lady." He was very polite.

Not only does she never bulk at being called a lady numerous times, she even calls him ‘My lord’ in kind. She was taught correct noble etiquette, she knows how to act in a polite conversation and reacts accordingly.

In fact, the Brotherhood in general call her ‘my lady’ quite often, and she doesn’t respond negatively to it. She knows they know who she is and takes it as a matter of course most of the time, probably used to the people about Winterfell calling her ‘my lady’ all the time, again in normal interactions where she isn’t being judged.

Anyway, I always thought this little interaction with Ned was enlightening, but I never see people comment on it or use it as a reference. But, it is one of the few times in the series when Arya is dealing with someone with a title having a normal conversation and she has no problems defaulting to polite speech.