#i had a vision and it is very unreliable

[crystallizsch]

tsum jamil pls

bonus kalim below:

(he also saved it for himself)

[punkpandapatrixk]

❤️‍🩹I Just Want to be Loved ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

We attract terrible loves for various reasons; so many lessons; but now sorrow has got to lessen. Let’s reveal patterns by exhuming roots. We’ve got to stop this cycle of disappointments. Done being made to feel as if we’re hard to love.

We’re not hard to love. Many of us were simply denied love, warmth and affection as we were growing up… Don’t know how to love self; don’t know how to love others; basically don’t know how to even receive Love… Who’s to blame now?

Why the hell were so many children denied love, warmth, affection…?

What are you going to do with yourself when you were denied love, warmth and affection as you were growing up?

☆♪°・.

‘The child who isn’t embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.’ – an African proverb

People denied warmth and affection tend to fall into a desperate loop of fishing for attention as a result of love-deficiency, right? Some learn to lick love off a knife; some pursue success (whatever that means) all too frantically; some…shoot complete strangers in broad daylight; and some who ain’t got the guts to murder complete strangers in public places go instead for antagonising strangers on social media… Gosh, that is desperate.

But you know what, not all hope is lost because there’s still plenty of us who are blessed with this incredibly RARE thing called self-awareness. There are plenty of us who will take our traumas to the graveyard than pass them down the next generations.

You, don’t deserve to have your sanity and your Life ruined by some psychos who didn’t know how to love you. Reclaim lost pieces of yourself by understanding THREE Houses in your natal chart, babe:

4th House: your roots; tells you what was lacking in your home; explains your erratic 10th House ambitions

8th House: your marriage or your desire for a bond like it; this the House where trauma manifests itself in full spectrum

11th House: your wish fulfilment; where you connect with people who support your visions; breeds a healthy sense of connection, even community

SONG: Emptiness by BoA

MOVIE: Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Because I Can’t Even Trust Myself

VIBE: Trust by Hamasaki Ayumi

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Ace of Pentacles Rx

It’s clear your childhood didn’t offer a sense of stability or security—the physical kind that children usually need. It could be that a grownup left early or it could be that you moved around a lot, so you easily lost contact with new friends you’d just made. In essence, it feels like you grew up feeling ‘everything disappears eventually; everyone leaves eventually’.

Some of you might’ve grown up not having a lot of material resources, but for the majority of you tuning into this Pile, it was more a feeling of a lack of warmth. For children, the pain of neglect and a lack of emotional connection do really affect our physical health more severely. You might’ve grown up poor and sickly due to all the grownups around you being inattentive, unaffectionate, and just…unreliable at best.

Because of this awareness, from a young age you realised you would have to do everything yourself. You wanted to grow up quickly and do your own things your own ways. It’s not like you had to grow up fast, you wanted to grow up fast to have your freedom and power! It was…hard to trust adults. It was hard to trust the world at large.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – 8 of Pentacles

On the path of growing up, I think you became a hard worker of sort? This is very nuanced though—there are layers to your developing yourself to become a hardworking person. In many ways, you grew up responsible because you didn’t want to become like the adults who had disappointed you. But since this sense of ‘responsibility’ is a product of neglect and trauma…this is coming off as your feeling responsible for everything. Everything!

Some of you could’ve been too hard on yourself, expecting way too much for your age. You’ve felt like you’re always the one with everything to prove. It’s hard living like that. It feels like you’ve put so much effort into keeping everything together, and yet, nobody sees how much you care. Nobody truly understands the fear in your mind and pain you carry in your heart.

In matters of relationship, you cling extra hard to friends or lovers, too; because deep down you’re afraid of losing things and people, again and again. This unhealthy attachment—and to some extent, controlling behaviour—is truly your wounded inner child attempting frantically to keep your Reality from falling apart…

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 4 of Cups

I’m very sure that at some point in Life, your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides are going to kick in and meddle with your Earthly business. For some people, it’s possible you could lose contact with everybody you’ve ever known in Life and go into a hermit mode to find yourself again. For some, it could be that your whole Life is simply flipped, without necessarily losing key people in your Life, for you to look at Life and human connections from a very different point of view.

It’s going to be hard, of course. Emotionally, it could be devastating. Themes of abandonment and betrayal are big in your incarnation. But you know, ultimately, all of these challenges serve to remind you that the Cup of Love and Affection you’ve been looking for has always been right inside of you. You’ve had a bitter time with a lot of people because deep down you couldn’t trust them. You couldn’t trust other people’s loyalty because you didn’t even believe that you’re worthy of that Love and Loyalty you yearn for.

Your Spirit Guides are saying, that although at some point in Life things are going to get really tough, know that when you’ve graduated those lessons, you’re going to be rewarded with the most beautiful Soulmate-shit friendships, familyship and relationship. Truth be told, part of your Soul’s scenario in this incarnation is to find your Soul Tribe; and find your Tribe you shall~

A L O N E🔻💗

ALL of you – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Healing

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Misled by My Own Compassion

VIBE: Cry Me A River by Julie London

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Knight of Cups

It’s very likely your 4th House is in a Water sign, but if not, you’re still very much a Water-y person; perhaps your Ascendant or Moon is in a Water sign, or that you have Neptune/Moon near/in your 4th, 7th or 11th House. All of this generally makes you a deeply compassionate person. No matter what outer appearances give, you strive to look deeper into a person’s Soul. You have so much empathy and you want to believe in the good of people.

Alas! This rotten world doesn’t make it too easy. This world is not a world where kindness and compassion are truly rewarded, if we don’t learn to be a tad cruel ourselves. You’re not in the wrong for being so genuinely good and compassionate; it’s this world that’s the wrong world. You know that? Therefore, it is paramount you learn to be a bitchilante! But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In spite of this PAC’s intro, I sense the majority of you tuning into this Pile actually grew up quite well. Many of you actually grew up in loving homes and that’s why it’s been quite challenging for you to grapple with the realness of the ugliness of the world outside of your loving home. Really…people in the real world…are monsters! And you were taken aback!

But some of you instead most likely grew up in chaotic, battlefield-esque homes and that’s why you’ve striven to be so good to a point of detriment.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – 0 The Fool Rx

Be that as it may, you being you… Well, you do put in the effort to try and understand what makes monsters the way that they are, right? It’s all good and wonderful, until you get yourself in deep trouble where nobody can save you but your own monstrosity. Depending on your age when reading this, this could be something that’s happened in the past or will happen; where you will be forced to grow up in the sense of seeing the world as it is and get firm with assholes!

Dr Jordan Peterson has this gold shit to summarise this spiritual lesson you will be taking at some point in Life: ‘You should be a monster, an absolute monster, and then you should learn to control it.’ Well, that’s male speech. In female speech, we just say: ‘you gotta grow up and be a bitchilante!’

Be a bitch only to those who deserve it. How would you protect yourself from monsters if you don’t have the strength to fight them at their own game, darling? If you’re harmless, weak as a fawn, if anything, the real monsters in the world are going to toy with your sanity: ‘I saw my “crazy” side once and decided I wouldn’t be involved with anyone that would take me out of my peace like that ever again.’

Be a bitchilante. That whole concept of ‘good, harmless, love and light, positivity-only’ bullshit was put out there not to really make you good but to weaken you against the truly monstrous ones. WAKE UP, BITCH!

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 4 of Pentacles

So? So what if you’re selective with your affection? Not everybody deserves your compassion. That’s for sure. There are many people in the world and you can’t be nice to all of them. One at point or another, you’re gonna be a villain in someone’s story—so what? Everybody else is the main character of their own Stories; that, you can’t control.

Be careful that you’re not falling victim to your own narcissism in wanting to be praised in everybody’s Story, yeah? So then, pertaining to your 11th House, weirdly enough, your wish fulfilment is in the form of a psychological liberation from your own idea of yourself in the minds of others. I sense that if you’re East Asian this is gonna resonate much harder and louder LOL

Anyway, I want to assure you that once you’ve graduated from your spiritual lessons, you will be met with unique, courageous, rebellious weirdos who will be just as clear as you are about what it truly means to be a good person in a world that’s often very bad. How good should a person be to truly be considered a good person?

‘If I offended you, cry me a river. I’ll bring snacks and a raft. I will literally float down your tears eating chips and working on my tan.’ – Fuckology

A L O N E🔻💚

ALL of you – Green Geographer (Gerardus Mercator)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Success

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Lights Out; I’m Out to Find Myself

VIBE: To. X by Taeyeon

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Ace of Cups Rx

I’ve to preface this Pile by saying this the pile that gets a little violent…

You were originally such a positive, happy-go-lucky kid, but quite early on, this world gave you so much darkness. So many reasons to be sad. It’s not been a very kind life, to be honest. Defo many of you have tragical placements here—your 4th or 5th House could start or end in Scorpio; have Lilith/Pluto/Chiron/Saturn there or in the sign of Cancer/Pisces; or it could be that your Venus/Moon is imprisoned in the 8th or 12th House and harshly aspected, too...

If your childhood has been violent or mightily confusing, it’s a group thing, OK? You can think like that. It’s not your fault. Know that practically everybody who has these harsh placements has gone through very similar things as you. So you’re really not the only one who’s failing—whatever that means. You’ve been gaslit a lot into believing there’s something wrong with you, but it was your environment that was just filled with totally terrible Human beings. That much I’d like to assure you.

It wasn’t natural how you were abused psychologically and emotionally. The people around you drew a parallel to Cinderella’s stepsisters in the Disney classic. It’s ridiculous like that. I think you grew up terribly lonely and created comfort characters in your head to console your sorrows? It’s very likely that your comfort characters were in actuality a mirror fragment of your Soul Family’s existence locked in your memory bank.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – XIV Temperance Rx

Life, unfortunately, isn’t a Disney movie. As a result of the psychological and emotional abuse you’ve endured in childhood, your friendships and relationships might’ve been quite turbulent, at times even violent. Juuust a small number of you could’ve dealt with being called a violent kid, or you could’ve struggled with anger management and have terrible tantrums. All of these have made human connections quite difficult to navigate.

It’s not like you want to be a nasty person, right? Many times, you couldn’t help the way you react/respond to what’s being said and unsaid because, somehow, there are many things that people do and say that trigger a trauma response in you. There’s a very difficult Mars thingy going on here. I think many of you resonating with this Pile have some difficult Mars (ruler of Scorpio) placements/aspects that affect the way you manifest human connections in your Life.

Speaking in terms of synastry, it could be that you’ve attracted a great deal of people whose Mars aspected badly in your natal chart—consequently triggering bad traumas and manifesting violent outbursts in your connections. Ultimately though, these negative experiences with other people could’ve enforced your belief about how unlovable you are, which, really, is a false belief…

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 5 of Wands

It is a false Reality that you’re unlovable or unworthy of a healthy relationship. That bullshit was implanted in you through the creation of a harsh environment that caused you a great deal of rage. Of course, you’re accountable for how you behave towards other people, but your foundation was never quite healthy or peaceful or harmonious, so… How about we put it all behind us and focus on healing? After all, it’s not like the people you’ve had a beef with were completely innocent? XP

It's kinda selfish to think like that, but you can depend on your own discernment to distinguish who amongst the people you’ve hurt or had a beef with to apologise to. Remember: sometimes apologies only make you weaker and looking at the unique bullshit astrological placements you were born with… apologising to the wrong fucker would only get you gaslit even more! So, don’t. Don’t apologise for the distress you experienced under other people’s lack of support.

Burn that bridge and detach yourself from that old stinking world. With your sheer willpower, you have it in you to rebuild your own little world of love and peace. After all, those harsh placements you were born with, are you aware of just how much power they bestow you? These placements come with a lot of turbulences but once you graduate your first Saturn Return, they also give you a burst of power unlike any other!

Lights out. Not entertaining aenergies that seek to nip your power at the bud anymore. Burn, baby, burn strong! Burn the whole Tower and find yourself on new lands~!

A L O N E🔻💜

ALL of you – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Solitude

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

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[anthurak]

Okay, so here’s a Salem theory I’ve recently come up with that ties into an aspect of her character that I feel has been largely under-explored:

The fact that in many respects, Salem is all too similar to RUBY.

As I’ve stated in the past in other posts, there are some very interesting similarities that can be drawn between Ruby and Salem. To the point where I think we can consider Salem to be Ruby’s true ‘evil-counterpart’ in the story. Particularly ever since the ‘Girl in the Tower’ episode of Fairy Tales of Remnant.

The Girl in the Tower showed that Salem ALSO had a great love for stories as a child, just like Ruby. And across the show, we have shown Ruby develop a number of traits and abilities much like what we have seen from Salem.

Both have built a select group of close and loyal allies, and in recent volumes, Ruby has displayed a growing talent in manipulating her enemies to gain advantage over them just like Salem. And as of the Volume 9 epilogue and Beyond, we are seeing Ruby rallying the entire world against Salem, just like Salem once did against the gods.

Heck, Ruby likely has her own equivalent to Ozma in PENNY, as recent volumes have emphasized more and more. A great warrior in green touched by magic who is tragically taken from Ruby, only to be brought back and then taken from her again.

There are even notable similarities in their physical abilities: Ruby’s Silver Eyes seem to be a power drawn from the God of Light, just like Salem’s immortality. And as I’ve theorized in other posts, recent revelations about Ruby’s semblance might mean that Ruby could potentially be just as unkillable as Salem.

It all feels like something that could very naturally build to a classic “We are not so different, you and I…” twist and exchange between Ruby and Salem.

Ultimately, I think a/the big twist and reveal about Salem that we’re eventually going to get is that she is a fallen hero. And more specifically, that she represents a fallen RUBY.

Let’s consider for a moment that we have every reason to view Jinn as an unreliable narrator when it comes to her vision in Volume 6.

And when we start looking at Jinn’s vision with the knowledge that it is almost certainly both HEAVILY skewed in favor of the God of Light and meant to paint Salem in as UNFAVORABLE light as possible, then I think we can get a much better picture of Salem in the old world.

Again, I think that the biggest and yet most natural and logical narrative twist we could see here is a big reveal that Salem was in fact absolutely a HERO, and more specifically was essentially the RUBY of her time: She united the whole world, just like Ruby is doing. All to lead humanity against a terrible threat, just like Ruby is doing.

And Salem ultimately FAILED.

Salem was able to unite humanity and lead them against the gods, only for it to all go terribly wrong. When the gods (likely Light, given both the unreliable nature of Jinn’s narration and what we learned from the Blacksmith) wiped humanity out and left Salem alive as a ‘punishment’ for her ‘insolence’ for rising up against them.

Thus does Salem represent a dark and tragic look at a Ruby who ultimately failed. And was so completely and utterly BROKEN as a result that she has eventually become twisted into a terrible villain.

And the really cool thing is; if we start looking at Salem as essentially representing a broken, fallen Ruby who has become a villain, I think this could give us an avenue to guessing just what Salem’s REAL goals truly are.

Because what might a fallen, twisted, villainous Ruby who failed to save humanity actually WANT?

Well, what if Salem actually wants to bring Old Humanity BACK?

As in, undo the destruction wrought by the gods and REMAKE her old world. And more specifically, undo her great FAILURE.

Unfortunately, Salem also views the PRESENT humanity/faunus as nothing but regrettable collateral damage or possibly even necessary sacrifices to her plan. Or just as ‘pretenders’ who are in her way.

Thus does Salem possess what seems to be a noble goal to her, yet has led her to becoming all too similar to the gods she once stood against.

And I think we can already find a couple potential hints to this. Like how in Jinn’s vision, we see that Salem at first simply wanted to rule over the ‘present’ age of humanity, and how she was overjoyed at learning that her and Oz’s children inherited their magic.

But then Oz told her about the relics, and Salem started getting IDEAS.

What if the REAL reason that Salem is after the relics is because she sees them as a way to bring back the humanity that was lost? Her humanity.

This could even give us an answer as to what Salem intends to do about the gods:

After all, Salem wouldn’t just be resurrecting just any humanity, she’d be bringing back the humanity that she united behind her. All the loyal friends, allies and followers who followed her into battle against the gods.

What if Salem intends to finish what they started?

And as to how Salem intends to prevent a repeat of what happened last time?

Well perhaps that’s what all of Salem’s hybrid experiments are for. I mean, a combination of the powers of Light in the Silver Eyes and Dark in the Grimm? What if Salem trying to figure out how to use the Brothers’ powers AGAINST them?

All in all, I feel like Salem turning out to represent a ‘Fallen Ruby’ presents a very natural way to tie together all the parallels we’ve already seen between Ruby and Salem, while also just being a great twist.

Like it’s one thing for our big villain to have some general similarities to our main heroine. It’s a whole other deal for it to turn out that at one time, this big villain was in fact JUST LIKE our main heroine. Driven by all-too-similar heroic who sought to save the world from some seemingly all-powerful threat. And showing just how our heroine could become the very thing she is fighting so hard against.

Such a twist and reveal would hit seriously hard for Ruby and co, and really solidify Salem as Ruby’s final narrative foil and true evil-counterpart. Summer showed how Ruby’s self-destructive hero-complex could ultimately break her.

Salem shows how Ruby could become all too similar to the very thing she was fighting against.

[theeoriginals]

Something with Klaus based on this quote from The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

“… You listened.”

“To you? Always.”

I NEED the tension PLS

what a feeling | klaus mikaelson

klaus mikaelson x psychic!female!reader (no y/n)

author's note; this + the oneshot I did with the ozark quote are so fun to do, if y'all have any more tv/movie quotes you want me to do fics with send them in <333

warnings; umm vague mentions of violence but ultimately nothing besides fluff, reader is kind of an anxious mess but it's short and sweet

Her powers had always been somewhat of a burden. They were unreliable at best, dangerous and deadly at worst. She'd been on both ends of the spectrum, and even though the power that ran through her bloodline hadn't skipped her, it might as well have compared to everyone else in her family.

It'd made her somewhat of a black sheep amongst wolves. Her dreams, visions, couldn't be trusted. She couldn't be trusted.

Her family never really let her forget that, so the first time two Originals walked into her family's innocuous shop, she figured they wanted her mom or dad, or someone else– anyone but her.

But Klaus had set his eyes on her and said her name like it meant something. Like it wasn't basically a curse in and of itself.

The Mikaelsons were kind to her, despite all of the trouble she came with. Rebekah was sweet and mostly understanding, though she could sometimes be a bit hurtful without realizing it. Elijah was ultimately the same, and his interest in witchcraft always made her remember how much she really did love it, even if she was considered cursed by most witches in New Orleans.

Elijah had told her all about how their mother was the Original witch, and that if they hadn't been turned into vampires, they'd all have a bit of magic in them still. Their sister Freya, and Kol, were both lucky to have that part of their heritage still, apparently.

In the months of working with the Originals, helping them to the best of her ability, though, it was Klaus that she'd come to enjoy most.

She'd heard stories of the infamous hybrid her entire life, stories of bloodshed and needless violence, painting a picture of an unforgiving, ruthless man. Admittedly, when he'd first sought her out, she thought he'd come to kill her. For what reason, she didn't know, but there was no other reason he'd want to speak to her unless she'd unknowingly passed on a piece of her cursed magic to him.

But that hadn't been the case, and he'd just been in need of her specific powers, needed her help to keep an eye out for certain people and any future threats that would bring harm to him and his family. She'd quickly learned that above everything, Klaus just wanted to keep his family safe, and she was more than happy to help in any way she could.

Even though most of her visions were unreliable, he still urged her to share them just in case. Even though not a single one of her visions about the Mikaelsons had come true so far, he still made her tell him and his siblings. He never let her doubt herself.

She supposes that's why she's trying not to be upset right now, listening to them talk over her like she's not sitting right in front of them.

"We can't just sit back and let this happen, Niklaus," Rebekah says, her face twisted frustratedly. "Her visions aren't fact, they're mere possibilities. And very low possibilities at that."

She flinched, ducking her head down to hide the hurt Rebekah's words inflict on her, because she can't really be upset when the blonde is right. Sometimes it's just a feeling, not even a vision. She can't blame them for not trusting a vision of a future that is constantly changing.

Elijah, ever the mediator, gives his sister a slightly scolding look before looking at his brother with something apologetic in his eyes. "Rebekah's being... harsh, but brother, she's not wrong. There's no way to prove that it will come true, and because of that, we have no real reason to not fight back. We have to do something, otherwise every vampire in the Quarter will be in danger."

Klaus pinches the bridge of his nose, his face twitching in a glare. His eyes drift to the quiet witch sitting down, twisting her fingers together anxiously in her lap. He catches her gaze and softens at the sadness in her eyes, feeling it pang in his chest.

"I know," He says finally, an apology swimming in his glacial eyes as he looks at the witch. Her sadness deepens with hurt at his words and he tears his eyes away from her, looking to his siblings. "We have to go."

She stands up abruptly, looking at him in disbelief. "But Klaus, they have white oak stakes, and they're going to use them on all of you. They kill you all, and they don't stop until you're all gone, even Freya! I saw it happen, I swear! You have to believe me, please,"

Elijah says her name with pity in every syllable and she swipes a hand out, turning to look at him with pleading eyes.

"You have to believe me, you're going to be killed if you go. They have laid a trap perfectly made to capture you, and you're walking directly into it!"

"We have to," Klaus shakes his head, already walking towards the doors, Rebekah and Elijah following. He looks over his shoulder, giving her a firm look. "Stay here until we return. It's not safe for you anywhere else."

He walks out before she can say anything else, pretending that he can't feel the heartbroken look on her face burning into his back as he leaves.

──────

She hasn't moved from her seat on the couch in the entirety of their absence. With every minute that shows no sign of their return, her heart beats faster, guilt beginning to seep into her pores.

Stuck in this spiral of horrible, self-deprecating thoughts, she's startled when the doors slam open and the three Originals come marching into the compound.

She stands up, eyes wide as she takes in the drying blood staining their skin and their clothes, but can't stop the wave of relief that washes over her at the sight of them all alive.

Rebekah has a slight limp to her step and Elijah seems to be favoring his left side more than usual, and there's blood on Klaus's face that she knows is his, but they're alive.

She lets out a shaky breath as Klaus walks towards her, Elijah and Rebekah heading for the stairs to likely clean themselves up and find a blood source to suck dry and finish healing.

"I was wrong," She sighs, eyes closing in abatement. "I'm so glad I was–"

She's cut off by Klaus's palms cupping her cheeks, and her eyes snap open when she feels the press of his plush lips against hers. She makes a noise of utter surprise that quickly dissipates into a noise of pleasure, and her eyes flutter shut as she lets him deepen the kiss, stealing the breath right out of her lungs.

She chases him as he pulls away, but he stops her, dragging his thumbs gently along her cheekbones as he looks at her with a look she'd dare call adoring.

It takes her breath all over again and she squirms beneath it, feeling like she's teetering on the edge of something big.

"What," She breathes out, licking her lips like she can still feel the weight of his on them. "What was that for?"

"You were right," He says, his voice rough. "You were right. They had white oak stakes and they tried to kill us. The only reason we survived is because of what you told us,"

Her eyes widen and she looks up at him in disbelief. "But... I'm never right. I'm cursed,"

He shakes his head, lips pulling up into a smile, creasing the dried blood on his cheek. "No, you're not, darling. You saved my life. You saved my family,"

Her throat tightens, thick with emotion, and she isn't entirely proud of the way her voice shakes when she speaks. "You listened?"

Klaus's gaze warms with fondness and he gives her a smile that makes her heart race for entirely new reasons. "To you? Always."

[internetskiff]

I've sometimes seen this sentiment, especially among reviewers, that SOMA's WAU ""monster plot"" contributes nothing to the main game's story, and that the storyline would infact benefit from the WAU's removal. If you ask me, that couldn't be further from the truth. The WAU is at the root of everything. Frankly, it's the main reason the game's moral dilemmas are.. well, dilemmas at all. If the WAU wasn't making monsters, wasn't there to warp the life around Pathos-II as it saw fit, the game wouldn't have even started. Pathos-II would've just remained dormant forever. Simon wouldn't be there, and neither would any of the obstacles he faces on his journey to preserve humanity. The main reason the WAU isn't directly beneficial to Earth is exactly because its understanding of "life" is so skewed. Its not just bringing things back - its bringing them back incorrectly. Every single "monster" we meet builds a case both against and for the WAU's continued existence.

The Construct shows the WAU's failure to understand humanity in the physical sense, shoving a Human brain scan into a misshapen robot body and calling it a day, leaving it to babble to itself as it aimlessly wanders the halls of Upsilon.

The same could be said for Carl Semken and the other Mockingbirds, though to a lesser degree - though capable of speech, they're still very delusional and oftentimes end up going insane. Still, in some ways you see the WAU's understanding of human psychology progress with each new mockingbird - they become increasingly coherent and increasingly sane, Catherine and Robin Bass being great examples. While the Construct has lost so much of itself you can no longer tell who it used to be, the other Mockingbirds have their sense of self intact. With the WAU's unreliable nature cemented, we move on to its attempts at preserving humans physically, with Amy Azarro being the first proper example Simon gets to witness.

She's kept alive in what seems to be a perpetual state of discomfort, and judging by the structure gel slowly overtaking her I believe the WAU may be slowly converting her into one of the Fleshers. Its keeping her alive, yes, but its doing so at any cost necessary - it doesn't matter if she's in constant pain as long as she doesn't flatline. Its treatment of actual organisms is practically an inversion of its treatment of the Mockingbirds - instead of prioritizing the mental wellbeing of the subject, the WAU prioritizes their physical wellbeing with little to no care for the mental state its "patient" is in the entire time.

Fleshers live and breathe, but they seemingly aren't "all there" at all. The lights are on, but no one's home anymore. All they do is wander the ruins of the CURIE and lash out at anyone who enters their territory - the WAU has basically reduced them to animals.

Terry's been driven insane from all the structure gel infesting his insides, and though his goal was "technically" benevolent (putting everyone into a permanent dream state where the WAU could make them live the best possible versions of their lives), he achieved it through incredibly violent means, conducting what was basically an attack on Theta and causing its downfall. So far, its attempts at preserving humans physically have simply resulted in increasingly grotesque and violent monstrosities - but I would argue you see that begin to change when Simon reaches Omicron.

When you reach it, you see the aftermath of a particularly gruesome procedure WAU had carried out - everyone's blackboxes have exploded, turning their heads to mush. We find out that one of the employees, with the help of someone particularly close to the WAU, had figured out how to poison it. They have been receiving "visions" and "messages" from a comatose Johan Ross - the WAU's "AI psychologist", someone it desperately tried to restore from a comatose state by manipulating structure gel with electromagnetic fields. Either the WAU deliberately retaliated when it figured out the poisoning plot, or it had simply overdone it when restoring Johan Ross - sacrificing an entire station's worth of lives to bring someone back. Either way this shows a tremendous amount of intelligence on the WAU's part - and also paints it as either exceptionally cruel or exceptionally empathetic depending on the perspective you view it from. Either it considered Johan so important to it that it was willing to sacrifice most Omicron staff, or it was willing to violently retaliate in order to preserve itself. Either way, Omicron houses what I believe to be a sign of the WAU's steadily improving understanding of humanity - Dr. Johan Ross.

He has been restored with both his physical health and mental faculties (relatively) intact. He isn't violent, and he perfectly understands what condition he is currently in - but despite that he doesn't seem to be physically suffering. He is still driven to eliminate the WAU, but it seems to be less out of personal suffering and more out of fear in regards to the suffering its other creations may go through. I believe he's an example of a semi-perfectly restored human - both him and Simon himself. They're both cases of, as Catherine puts it, "a sound mind in a sound body". But although the signs are there, there is no outright definitive proof that the WAU's creations will only continue to get better.

And that's what makes the game's final moral dilemma so compelling to me. The whole game has been providing us with both evidence and counterevidence towards the WAU's idea of restoring humanity. Now, it's up to you to act as its jury and executioner. By killing it you either stop it from torturing the memory of humanity, or you doom humanity to extinction in all senses of the word. By keeping it alive, you either doom the remnants of humanity to an eternal torturous existence, or you give the WAU a chance at creating something new. There is no way of knowing what choice is correct - because you don't know what the WAU is thinking. You never get to. You don't know its plans, you don't know if it even has the capacity to actually learn from its mistakes, hell, you don't even know if its capable of thought - but here it is. Making things. Terrible things, but there's a chance that it'll only get better with time. Simon himself is evidence of that chance. It has already managed to make what could be classified as a "complete" person. And if you kill it, Simon's going to be the last "complete" person it managed to bring back.

[nectardaddy]

mirage | suna rintarou

seven | rolodex ★

masterlist

I haven't added music to this series; however, Soda by Nothing But Thieves helped me write this. I'd definitely take a listen!

ignore timestamps

cw/notes: messy x100 bass boosted in 4k, flawed characters, self destructive behavior, real/raw emotions, anxiety/panic attack, allusion to being overstimulated, very brief mention of throwing up (used as a metaphor, not detailed), repetitive statements done on purpose

She death gripped the metal counter with a small sigh, knuckles starting to grow sore from the tension she held onto. The cold metal sending a shock wave through her palms, a sudden iciness to it that she hoped would force her back to reality - it didn't.

Breathe.

As if telling herself that would make it any easier.

Her day started off normally, despite the pain the bashed her skull from drinking the night before. A familiarity to her routine that kept her stress relatively low - if something were to go amiss it ruined her day. A rolodex of mundane tasks and work obligations, but if she did them in a set order her stress was little to none. A schedule she stuck to meticulously, one wrong move and her day would be torn asunder.

Suna Rintarou threw a wrench in that complex order; took the rolodex in his hands and made a jumbled mess of it.

'I just want you to be happy.' Haunted her subconscious the moment she read it, the moment she finally went to sleep, and the moment she opened her eyes that morning. Lingered in the back of her mind throughout the day until it couldn't be ignored anymore; prowling around in her head like a cat - until it finally pounced.

Breathe.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but the thought of the green eyed man still rattled her to her very core. Feline and wild, at one point making her weak at the knees; now she only felt the need to vomit at the thought. To pull the nearest trash can towards her and heave; because why on earth did she still want him? Why did she still crave the attention of a man who's words were brash and unruly? Why did she still need the man who's kind sentiments never truly fizzled out?

Why did she still love the man whom she created to be the devil?

Distracting herself with every petty, trivial argument they had to negate the feelings of hopeless love. Purposefully unable to recall of times where he was doting, selfless - loving. It was better to remember him as a monster, if he ever was one in the first place, than think of him fondly.

Suna Rintarou ruined that image of himself for her. Shattered it into a million pieces and she watched in horror as it fell at her feet. 'I just want you to be happy' was the smoking gun that shot down any fleeting memory of a bickering past.

She reopened her eyes and seized the counter harder, an imprint of the table's edge embedding itself in her palm as she held it vehemently. With a tight jaw, she let her eyes slide to her phone resting on the table next to her. Staring back at her as a singular thought wracked her brain - call him.

Her world got a bit smaller when the thought hit her. Caving in on itself as the notion alone gave her tunnel vision.

Call him.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, sucking in a breath as all she could find herself to do was stare at the black screen in contemplation.

Call him.

A quick decision, one given without thought, that caused her body to move on its own. Picking up the phone and scrolling through her contacts with conviction, but without a thread of reflection. Yet the phone rang a bit too long, the fan next to her was a bit too loud, and the lights above her in the cramped back room were a bit too bright.

So she hung up the moment he answered and threw her phone back onto the table. She listened to it buzz relentlessly for the next few minutes with eyes screwed shut and knee bouncing until it finally fell silent again.

Breathe.

I am an unreliable narrator, obviously, and yes it was done on purpose do not come for me.

Iwa can pretty much guess what's going on, next chapter bout to go crazy with this

pay attention to the lock screen picture ;) (do not read me about that lock screen either I tried my best on canva)

if you don't know what a rolodex is, thanks for making me feel old, but (and this is the google definition) it's a "rotating card file device used to store a contact list"

she will not be telling the group chat what she's doing tonight

she will lie if they ask just like she lied to akaashi

yn I see you and I love you dearly

taglist (open , send an ASK)

@mollyrolls @causenessus @zumicho @seroh @eggyrocks 

@nbcvs @rory-cakes @localgaytrainwreck @kodzu-ken @hermaeusmorax

@sunafc @lvtilzs @kr1nqu @iiwaijime @gsyche 

@le000xxgrd @iheartpinky @strxwberri-s @wolffmaiden @yogurtkags 

@superboywife @cherrypieyourface @soulfullystarry @bedeater @a-little-pebbl

@miliondollagirl @toges-cough-syrup @renardiererin  @theycallmenanamisgirl @honeekyuu

@softpia @mfcherry @keeboismine @phoenix-eclipses

[firestorm09890]

On Wuthering Heights and Canto VI (complete)

wow.

move over “Call me Ishmael” line, this is the Canto that most resembles its source book. We’ve got direct quotes! We’ve got scenes playing out like the original, beat for beat! I’m so glad I read Wuthering Heights beforehand, because unlike the previous ones where it just enhanced the experience a little (or even left me unsatisfied that they didn’t adapt certain things), I can’t imagine what it might’ve been like to not know everything in the book.

It’s kind of uncanny, actually, the extent to which things are similar. At the end of part 2 I was thinking about how there could’ve been a universe where the events of the book continued to stay the same if not for Erlking Heathcliff learning about the alternate worlds, and hey, after looking at so many universes of Catherine and Heathcliff making each other miserable, Dante (*edit: I wrote Cathy here first. I forgot it was Dante who saw it) found one where they’re happy together, both as ghosts, which! Is just the end of real actual Wuthering Heights!

We continued to have canon divergence in that way of "what if [character] had done something different?" which is always my favorite, even if some of it was just visions into a timeline where things were different. What if Heathcliff recognized he was just as bad as Hindley when it came to Hareton? What if Heathcliff and Cathy hadn't gone to spy on Thrushcross Grange that night? What if Heathcliff had stayed to listen to the rest of what Cathy had to say?

It's a tragedy, and Erlking Heathcliff, and our Heathcliff, and every other Heathcliff believed that it was the type where he was doomed from the start, because of who he is, and nothing can change that. But Dante knew that no, actually, it's a tragedy because of the choices that were made, and they can't be changed now, but you can change, and that's how you change your fate.

Individual characters

Not surprised Hindley distorted. I think this one had a lot more hate within him than the original

RIP Isabella Linton, I mean Isabella Edgar. She found someone who wasn't Heathcliff and her brother STILL stopped talking to her, and ended up being used by Erlking Heathcliff anyway

Speaking of Linton (Edgar). I don't have much to say because if I'm being honest I don't like him very much and everything he said was kinda overshadowed by his absolutely disgusting death. Catherine saying he looked like a prince out of a fairytale is very interesting considering how much he looks like the Black Swan guys

I'm sad Josephine died. It makes narrative sense but it would’ve been funny if she outlasted everyone else just like in the book

Cathy! There's a lot to say about Cathy but I'm not sure I can be the one to do it. I like her. I'm glad she was fucked up and we got our "everyone sucks here, you're perfect for each other, never involve anyone else in your business" but of course other people are getting involved because this is fucking Wuthering Heights

SPEAKING OF GETTING INVOLVED! NELLY!! I'm sooo glad they gave her the unreliable narrator trait, and managed to put the whole "burning letters" thing in there too. I'm also glad that when she did inevitably betray the team, she stayed exactly the same in personality. It's like she said herself, the happy moments in the past were real. I hope she stops associating with Hermann and goes to do something else with her life. Imagine finding out that in every universe you're wrapped up in Heathcliff and Cathy's bullshit

no Hareton or Catherine II, but Catherine I and Heathcliff did a fine job breaking the cycle themselves, I think.

there's probably more things to say about the Erlking and the Wild Hunt but I'm so tired

[wjbs-bonkle-au]

Every Bionicle mask-power summarised.

Hau: Everything-proof shield

Kaukau: "Hey, wanna see how long I can hold my breath underwater?"

Miru: Somewhat balanced flight powers (can't take off from a standstill; horizontal movement at least somewhat controlled by wind)

Kakama: Wheeeeeeeee!

Pakari: Kinda like the Berserk Pack from Doom

Akaku: X-ray specs

Huna: Stealth mode

Rau: Google Translate

Mahiki: Illusions, but also just full-on shapeshifting for some reason?

Komau: Hypnotism kink

Ruru: "Night vision", which canonically manifests as a torch-like beam projected from the mask's front, and gives the wearer actual night-vision, and yet more x-ray stuff

Matatu: Gmod Physgun Telekinesis Addon 2004 No Virus

Calix: Basically X-Cell from Fallout 4 but without the intelligence boost

Elda: Thing finder, for finding things

Suletu: Telepathy and also psychic torture

Sanok: Aimbot

Kadin: Very unbalanced flight powers (literally the only downside is that the user can't hover in place)

Iden: Out of body from morning to night/Dance floor packed and I'm feeling alright

Arthron: *Whale noises*

Faxon: "Hey, wanna see my animal impressions?"

Zatth: Kinda like if going "pspsps" had an equal chance of attracting a cat, a bear or a car-sized land-octopus

Garai: Gravity-y-y-y-y-y, on me/Never let me down, gent-ly damn, two Gorillaz references in one post; I'll try to use another band next time

Volitak: Same as the Huna but worse

Tryna: Wise fwom your gwave!

Jutlin: Rust-vision

Avsa: *Vampire noises*

Felnas: Messes up your abilities, but only through touch for some reason?

Mohtrek: I have no idea how I'd condense this mask's timeline-fuckery into a single se- where did all these scars come from?

Shelek: ‍

Crast: Pushes others away

Mask of Mutation: Guess.

Mask of Scavenging/Vulture: Like the Avsa, but it only works on the recently-deceased

Pehkui: Makes you tiny

Mask of Clairvoyance: The last word of this post will be "diversity"

Kualsi: Nightcrawler powers

Mask of Emulation: "Hey, wanna see my non-animal impressions?"

Mask of Growth: Makes you big

Mask of Rahi Control: Gives you all the powers of a zookeeper

Avohkii: Let there be light!

Kraahkan: Actually I changed my mind; there should darkness

Mask of Psychometry: Ever wondered where your favourite shirt came from?

Rode: Mask of Seeing Through Your Shit

Olmak: Now you're thinking with portals

Mask of Charisma: Actually functions more like brainwashing

Olisi: Isn't it weird how Bionicle's most notable use of the "mad oracle" trope is A. unreliable and B. a giant Frankenstein-man who commits body-horror on random people?

Kiril: Basically the opposite of the Jutlin

Mask of Intangibility: *Ghost noises*

Mask of Possibilities: Essentially the Improbability Drive from Madness Combat, but on a smaller scale

Mask of Elemental Energy: who cares about this one like seriously it barely appears outside the games

Mask of Adaptation: Turns you into an environment-specific action figure

Mask of Aging: The mask that makes you old

Mask of Biomechanics: Essentially the Gmod ragdoll-mover addon

Mask of Conjuring: I'm just going to copy what Biosector says, since it's really convoluted and complex; "The Mask of Conjuring is a Kanohi that allows its user to verbally program a limited power into the mask for a brief period of time. The user must describe in detail the power desired and at least one weakness. If the phrasing is spoken wrong, it causes intense psychic backlash in the user's mind. The user can use a programmed power for fifteen minutes (with a Great version), and after the time is out, the user must wait thirty seconds to activate the mask again. The Noble version will only work for five minutes. Another weakness is because it requires time and speech, any enemies nearby can hear in detail what power to expect and what its weakness is. Because of this, the usage of the mask is more commonly done alone. It is also capable of being programmed with the powers of other masks, such as the Kanohi Hau."

Mask of Freezing: What do you think it does

Mask of Fusion: Combines things • Mask of Healing: Heals stuff

Mask of Incomprehension: 👁️🧠🫵🥫🚹🇮🇹📤

Mask of Rebounding: Something something rubber glue etc.

Mask of Reconstitution: Literally just another Mask of Mutation, but slightly worse

Mask of Sensory Aptitude: 'Cause I've got one two three four five/Senses working o-ver-ti-ime!

Mask of Undeath: I live... again!

Mask of Weather Control: /weather clear 18000

Mask of Weight Increase: Literally just a Garai that can't make things lighter

Ignika: Do-anything MacGuffin that turned into a guy once and also became God's hat for a bit

Vahi: Time isn't holding up/Time isn't after us/Same as it ever was/Same as it ever was...

Mask of Creation: Just kinda lets you make stuff, while also celebrating the Matoran Universe's cultural diversity!

[romantichopelessly]

invitation to speak more about the secret good td3 in your head, if you so desire!

Ok so I sat on this ask for DAYS because I wanted to have some cohesive, great answer, but the thing about The Dreamer Trilogy that haunts me is that I can never come up with good concrete thoughts about how to fix the issues I have with it, which is why I reference the “secret good td3 in my head” because it can never fully leave my head in any real way. That being said here’s a list of some elements I would change to make my secret good td3, in no particular order.

The visionaries don’t exist. Liliana, Persifal, etc. are just psychics that keep getting visions of the end, and die for reasons other than their power. Explaining what Visionaries are and subsequently over explaining the magic system of td3 is part of what made the trilogy so confusing and ruined a lot of the magic that the TRC universe already had for me. We don’t need concrete explanations, and psychics can still fill this role. The changing age and exploding added nothing?? to the narrative?? that I can think of?? We can even keep the age gap for Carliana if we want to, just make Liliana an older psychic like Maura/Persephone/Calla. It will even add to the excellent Carmen-Mr. Gray parallels.

Lean more into the themes of the age group. TRC is a coming of age story. It’s about being 17/18. It’s about learning your inner self and getting others to see the true you. TD3 should be more about being 19/20/21. To me, TD3 at its peak is like Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 6. Which is uniquely about the horror of being in your early 20s, losing support systems, having to learn to be a full self-reliant person, grappling with what your parents did to you, and the crushing loneliness of not being around Your People anymore. TD3 has all of these themes, but I really think they need to be fleshed out more, and given proper conclusion that isn’t just “yippee everything is fine now!”

Greywaren is longer. I think almost everyone agrees that Greywaren, as a book was just too short to wrap up all the plot lines set up, and does almost none of them justice. That book needed a whole rewrite. In theory, I’m completely fine with how it opens—Ronan being in a dream coma was foreshadowed from CDTH, and is an idea that I’d actually thought of as interesting before even reading the book. Other elements of this book like Declan’s rampage, Matthew going rogue, etc are great directions for the characters, I’d just want to rework them. I could make solo posts about any of these.

The Pynch breakup either doesn’t happen, or is set up further in advance and lasts longer. Personally, I lean towards the latter. Adam and Ronan’s conflict is set up from the very beginning of CDTH, or even from Opal (Adam warring between wanting to stay with Ronan and needing to follow through with his lifelong plans, and being frustrated that Ronan never asks for anything from Adam (specifically, to stay) ((side note: perhaps Adam’s insecurity here about Ronan respecting his boundaries so thoroughly stems from both having a family that never would respect his wishes, and Gansey (Adam’s model of love, Adam’s model of everything) having to learn not to ask things like that of Adam. What does it mean that Ronan never even tries?)) AND Ronan dealing with the crushing loneliness of being left and dealing with the consequences of having a long distance bf who is more successful than him). So they needed to have an argument about this. It’s also just in character that these two would not be perfect communicators. So. My idea: In CDTH we get no Adam POVs, just Ronan’s side of the story. We see, rather than Ronan just getting upset over one missed text, that Adam begins to pull away after the murder crab incident. We the audience don’t know why, other than Ronan’s unreliable narration and insecurity. So when Adam doesn’t respond to that one text at a vital fraught time, Ronan does what he does best, shuts down, pulls away and self destructs. Then MI rolls around and we start getting Adam POVs. We learn that after the murder crabs, Adam was throwing himself into trying to fix the nightwash situation for Ronan (Adam is not in contact with Declan here, unfortunately). After visiting for Ronan’s birthday and seeing the Lace, Adam starts to have dreams/premonitions about the end of the world (no visionaries in this universe, just psychics who are/were close to dreamers getting the visions!!). So he obviously sets out to fix this alone too. He calls his best approximations to contacts in this underground world that aren’t Declan. Henry and Mr. Gray. (+ maybe also Maura & Calla) ((Also don’t worry Henry doesn’t leave the Sarchengsey trip, just advises Adam on where to start)). Now that Adam has lost contact with Ronan (he was busy and missed the message and Ronan went off the grid like in canon), he goes full throttle into trying to solve everything while managing being his perfect Harvard persona (this gets him close to a breakdown, very reminiscent to Dream Thieves). Perhaps we get to see Adam and Declan working together to acquire sweet metals and understand the underworld of magic together. He and Ronan fight the one time they get to talk over the phone, Adam because he is truly scared Ronan will be the one to end the world, Ronan because he feels like this is another person perceiving him as a failure and wanting to control/baby him (+ he hates Adam hanging with Mr Gray and Declan of all people). By the time Greywaren starts, Adam is wrung out and hurting and Ronan is dead to the world, so yeah. He doesn’t think he can spend emotional energy playing safeguard to his boyfriend’s coma corpse. And then by the end of the book they have an actual argument/discussion no “they didn’t need words” cop out.

The number of Dreamers/Dreams has to be reduced. It’s cool to say that dreams were always integrated into this world, but it creates so many plot holes it isn’t even funny. There is no way Niall could have passed off the Greywaren being a box that brings dreams to life if Dreamers were such a common occurrence. No secret can be kept that well, someone in the black market would have known, and thus Greenmantle/Mr. Gray/Laumonier/ect WOULD HAVE KNOWN !!!

Declan does not have all his character erased by suddenly loving his mommy and daddy. Seriously what the fuck was that. Declan suddenly deciding to forgive his father because actually Declan was secretly the favorite child first is INSANE. Especially after seeing that that changed because Niall and Mor WANTED TO KILL HIS BROTHER!!! The two tenants of Declan Lynch in TRC were protecting his remaining family and fucking hating that Ronan idolized Niall just because Niall loved him best. So why make Declan turn around and do the same??? Suddenly Niall wasn’t so bad because actually he let Declan be shoved into a car trunk during a shootout out of love. I hate this plot line. Family doesn’t have to be forgiven. Understood, that’s one thing. Forgiven?? Not always. Sick of it. The real takeaway from seeing those memories should have been closure to Declan’s arc of learning that dreams should be viewed as people completely.

I definitely have other points but I cannot think of them right now. And I want to post this so I will. But TD3, as you can see, makes me an insane person.

[unsanctioned-if]

"Unsanctioned" background introductions

As I get closer to finishing the editing of the three backgrounds available for the MC, I've finally managed to put together a short summary of each one. Alternative, shorter versions of these summaries will be included the game for the player to read over before committing to a background.

These include light spoilers, so I'll post them under the cut in case you'd rather skip it!

The Aristocrat

As devout and loyal servants to the city of Dust and Gold, the Belnac name has remained untainted and unsoiled in the eyes of the public and would remain so still if not for the calamity that happened a century ago.

Among the elite, the sins of your family are nothing more than a shared, painful memory.  A sin many of the aristocracy bear, but no one bears to speak out loud.

But the past is the past, and the future of your house is looking bright. With your older brother Cassius already a Spellweaver, hopes for the youngest Belnac to follow in his footsteps are high.

On the eve of your ninth birthday, seated among the most distinguished subjects of the Crown, your parents announce their plans to send you to the Institute of Arcane Arts, mapping out your future with one ceremonious toast.

How you feel about the matter is a secondary concern when faced with tradition and expectation, but you have witnessed what the favourable gaze of the One can do to a person, and it has left you wondering about, perhaps even fearing, the unspoken horrors of that gaze.

The Scavenger

You’ve worked as a treasure hunter – a glorified scavenger – for near three years, serving a vital role in the group of misfits known in Talzaric’s less prosperous areas as the “Finders”.

With your unreliable line of work and general circumstances, you had never expected a mysterious, wealthy client to contact your group for a very special job: locating the Remnant of a sorcerer long since dead.

In over your heads but beckoned by the promise of riches, you set out on one last journey together and make your way to the treacherous Grimhills to locate the relic and bring it back to the capital. But the promise of gold births greed, and when ensnared in a web of scheming witches, so too does fear risk breaking the bonds of once sworn friends.

The Nomad

Before your name was attached to your person, it had been a whisper on the breeze; a message sent by the gods.

You are a child of the nomadic tribe Reshve – a branch sprawling from the tree of clans called Ytrahan’s Grasp. Your family has been wandering the world ever since the usurpers the settlers named their guardians used the creature known as “the One” to further their own gains.

As followers of the Eterals – the now-imprisoned gods – you have been declared outlaws by the Crown and keep close to the unpredictable forests and swamps that conquer Aíos’ natural world, avoiding larger settlements.

When a seer predicts your future rise to power, you find yourself becoming the main focus of your respected grandmother, Grand Conjurer of your clan. A newfound responsibility settles upon your shoulders; one of many already weighing you down as the eldest of your siblings in the absence of your birth mother. But visions breed uncertainty, and this one in particular pierces the mind of an ambitious and envious younger sister.

[ardentprose]

Candlelight Candor

A/N: This is the first public one shot I've written in a very long time so bear with me as I find my footing again.

Type: just sweet and simple fluff; Foggy Nelson x reader

Length: 4.8k~ | 20 min

Warnings: cursing; minor suggestive thoughts; fem!reader

Feel free to message me if a necessary warning isn't mentioned.

Summary: the worst storm of the decade, an unreliable old building, and being alone with your crush, Foggy Nelson

Hell hath no fury like a New York Nor’easter. It didn’t matter whether you had grown accustomed to the brutal winters in the city that never sleeps, because each summer lulled you into a false sense of serenity before winter struck again, the sky darkened, and ten inches of snow were threatening to bury the streets.

Any sane person would be hunkered down in their home, buried under an appropriate amount of blankets, and soundly sleeping away the precious hours gifted by the closing of the workplace.

Any sane person not in love, that is.

When you got the call that Karen was trapped north of the city, as the town she was investigating was hit with the storm first, you were tempted to hang up and go back to sleep. But how could you say no to:

“Good morning, sunshine!”

It took an embarrassingly small amount of convincing for Foggy Nelson to coax you from your haven and come to his law firm to lend an extra hand in the last day leading up to a case. The enigmatic lawyer had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it.

As you tugged on your heavy duty winter coat and forced your triple socked feet into your boots, you dearly wanted to curse the man for taking advantage of your infatuation. Of course, in his mind, he thought you were just a dedicated friend, and while that may be true, it would be more honest to say you were at his beck and call because you were in love with him.

Consequently, you find yourself hunched over a small desk in a small law firm with poor heating, hoping the feeling in your fingers returns.

And that was before the lights went out.

Precarious flames flicker among documents scattered across whatever surface area could be spared. Careful of the two candles flanking your papers - one cinnamon spice and another the supposed ‘scent of rain’ - you hunch lower and squint, trying to make connections between the paragraphs of legal precedents and other such jargon in the wavering light.

You don’t know how much longer you can strain your neck, scrounging every line of text for a loophole or mistype that will get this case thrown out. The ache in your neck grows insistent until you are forced to lift your head and roll your shoulders to appease the pain for a moment. Your eyes, sore from reading in dim light, fall on the lawyer across from you, taking in the welcome sight of him compared to dull printed texts.

Albeit, Foggy sits across from you in a similar position, muttering from down-turned lips as frustration pinches his expression. Occasionally, he heaves a sigh or grunt through clenched teeth as he hits another dead end. Even still, you allow yourself a small smile at how the orange flames cast warmth on his blond locks, causing them to shimmer like spun gold between the shadows.

A prick of alertness wakes you from your dreamy gaze and casting your eyes around you for the sixth sense of being watched, you find the other partner of the firm, Matt Murdock, smiling in your direction as if he could see you.

Your smile falls immediately, though the endeavor is fruitless as your remaining blush gives you away. Despite not having vision, you knew Matt caught you making heart eyes again at your ‘strictly professional legal friend’. It wasn’t the first time Matt sent you an impish smirk or raised his brows in question at your obvious pining. Especially when you laughed too loudly at Foggy’s quips. But what about it? You liked a sense of humor in a man and Foggy Nelson was a comedian in your enamored eyes.

The maddening thing was Matt doesn’t even pause his reading, skirting over lines of Braille with the same urgency as Foggy muttering out paragraphs of legalities.

You roll your eyes and Matt’s grin widens, but you choose to ignore him, checking your wrist watch for the time.

Your glance never makes it to your wrist, but diverges instead to the window when a sudden bang knocks the glass within it’s frame. The forceful wind rattles the glass with vengeance until it settles into an ominous vibrato. It wasn’t the first time that hour, but the three of you jump in your seats all the same.

“For Pete’s sake, this case better be able to fix that goddamn window.” Foggy curses, rubbing a palm over his heart from the abrupt break in silence.

“We have to win the case in the first place.” You lament, heaving a sigh to regain a normal heart rate.   

“We have less than an hour to find a reasonable cause to dismiss this case. But I’m pretty sure I’m reading algebra right now for all the good these candles are doing.”    Foggy groans, tussling his hair into a visible display of his perturbation. Your eyes follow the motion, happy to see something other than poorly lit paper stimulate your vision, though you sympathize with his annoyance.

“Justice never sleeps.” You quip and Foggy matches your wry smile.

“Of course the courthouse is open.” Foggy continues, flipping over another page. “Hell has frozen over but did the courthouse care? Did they reschedule? Of course not! Why indulge the safety of their tax-paying citizens when they could freeze them to death instead?”

“Whoa there, Foggy, is that the hangover talking or just you?” Matt teases, his fingers hesitating over some lines as conversation picks up.

“If anyone is hungover it’s you and your stupid smile that somehow thinks it’s appropriate to make an appearance right now.”

“I’m not the one who suggested shots last night.”

“I’m not the one who drank them all.”

“Hey, I’ve been quiet and well-behaved this entire time.”

“Guys…twenty minutes…” You interrupt, your own sense of justice dwindling by the hour.

You were more than accustomed to the bickering between the two law firm partners. Despite not being a lawyer yourself, your paralegal abilities were usually called into action since being acquainted with Nelson and Murdock over a previous case. You didn’t even work for them, yet you found yourself here more often than your own office. You also found yourself playing referee alongside legal assistance. At this point, you had helped Foggy and Matt win so many cases and stay friends while doing so, that you were an honorary member of the firm.

Foggy flips a page before him, chin resting on his fist. “I say we call the courthouse and tell them we were trapped inside. Couldn’t open the front door cause of all the…”

He squints.

His eyes go wide.

“Fuck! I found the damned thing!”

A groan of relief resounds from Matt and he throws himself back into his swivel chair, spinning to the side slightly. You break into a smile, watching the candlelight twinkle in Foggy’s eyes with his newfound ecstasy.

“Will it help win the case?” You ask, voice soft if only because of your overwhelming affection.

“This piece of evidence - or should I say lack thereof, will get this case thrown out into the nearest dumpster!” Foggy exclaims, meeting your eyes with his own mirth. Your smile grows larger at this revelation.

Matt tilts his head and once more you feel that devil grin, but you refuse to meet his invisible gaze. However, your up-tick in heart rate betrays your fear of a much bigger revelation being exposed by the brunet lawyer.

Matt seems to spare you from your fears, speaking instead of the case at hand.

“Foggy, I don’t know what we’d do without you. I don’t know how I missed such an obvious detail right in front of me.”

As he stands up, Matt compiles his own version of documents into his briefcase.

“What an oversight on my part.”

He grins expectantly.

You throw your head back and groan, then lift your head in order to glare at Matt.

“That’s the last one, Murdock! You’ve hit your ‘blind’ joke quota for today.”

Matt pouts, jerking on his winter pea coat.

“It’s my law firm, I can make as many jokes as I want. Who am I offending?”

“It’s our law firm, buddy.” Foggy comes to your defense. “And your jokes are in poor taste only because they’re not funny.”

“Hey,” Matt lifts the strap over his shoulder and slides out from behind his desk. “I’m funny.”

“Funny-looking.” You tease. Foggy snorts and points the tip of his pen at you in approval. You bite your lip to keep your grin from spreading into ‘infatuated’ lengths.

“Now, I can’t help that,” Matt gestures to the glasses in his hand before slipping them onto his nose, “given, you know, that I’m-“

“No more!” You point your finger at Matt in warning.

“Alright, jeez. Tough crowd.” Matt grins, still clearly proud of his sense of corny humor.

Before he makes his way to the door, he turns partway to explain his departure.

“I’ll head out first to meet the client early. It’s gonna be hell catching a cab in this storm. Plus the traffic will be worse…you get it.” Matt sighs and snatches his cane from where it rests beside the entryway. He lifts it as a form of dismissal.

“Good idea. I’ll revise our argument first then head over. It shouldn’t take more than a few quick amendments.” Foggy says.

Matt nods and turns to leave.

You turn back to clean up your work, but your head snaps up when you hear Matt fall against the door.

“Are you okay?” You blurt as Matt pushes himself upright on the door.

“I misjudged the space between myself and the door.” He chuckles. “Can’t see anything with the lights out.”

“Leave.”

You turn your back on Matt and his snickering.

“I don’t know how you put up with him.” You say once he’s gone and Foggy rolls his eyes in similar exasperation.

“I’ve learned to stop questioning my life choices when it comes to Matt.”

You laugh, humming in agreement. You lift your gaze to hand Foggy the collected papers across the desk and find his eyes already on you.

Before you can contemplate why his eyes take their time traveling down your face to your outstretched hand, the his easy smile lowers into contemplation once he accepts the papers. He licks his lips and begins scribbling down notes with fervor. Now that the essential information has been found, you’re left with nothing else to do but leave it in the capable hands of the brilliant lawyer before you.

Before you realize it, you’re in a candlelight-induced trance, watching Foggy’s eagle sharp gaze flit back and forth. A small, petty part of you wishes his eyes held the same concentration on you instead of the paperwork. You knew from experience how nice it was to have Foggy’s attention on you.

Meeting Foggy Nelson was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rainstorm. He had come into your life with undeniable presence and charm, which mostly stemmed from how Foggy was unapologetically himself in all contexts. He didn’t put on the airs of the egotistical disposition that many lawyers were known to have.

That’s not to say he didn’t speak up whenever he found himself in an immoral situation,  but more often than not, Foggy reserved his speeches for retelling the repertoire of stories he loved to share with those who spared him an ear. You, always a listener at heart, and therefore his dedicated audience, were usually in hysterics by the end of his theatrics.

Foggy never just told a story. No, he incorporated gestures, voices and facial expressions that brought the characters - real or not - to life. Karen and Matt had heard every story ten times over, but being the newest addition to the friend group, you took in every detail as if there was going to be an exam.

It was his larger-than-life personality that drew you in, but it was his quiet observations that captivated you. Foggy never used his social prowess to embarrass others - Karen and Matt excluded - only ever making himself the butt of jokes. If he teased you, it was only to tease you out of your shell. His questions were genuine and his gaze, reading your body language and expressions, hung on to every answer you offered him.

The first real conversation you had with him, he asked you about your background.

“So what gods - sorry, Matt, God - above orchestrated for you to be doomed with us as friends?” He asked, curiosity making his sincerity clear.

You told him your abridged life story - including the small role you felt you played, despite it being your own life. Foggy’s smile had waned into a wrinkled line and when you finished he looked at you as if you had just admitted to being from another planet.

“You are the sweetest person I know, with a beautiful heart, and I don’t think you know it. But the rest of us sure do.” His eyes sought yours long enough to ensure you believed his sincerity, then he quickly moved on to throw a jibe at Matt,, and the conversation returned it’s levity. You, however, were left reeling from his compliment.

And absolutely in love.

Doomed, more like. You muse, halting the trip down memory lane before you fell down the well-trodden path of self-doubt and hatred. You have been around long enough to hear stories of the women Foggy had dated, slept with, or fantasized about being with. You didn’t think you made the cut. You had no reason to. Foggy was an extraordinary friend but that didn’t qualify you to wish he did more than friendly things to you.

You focus back in where your eyes had taken the opportunity to stare at Foggy fingering the edges of documents while twirling a pen in his other hand. He settles the pen between his soft, pink lips, tapping it before he bites the cap, completed focused on the phrasing of his task.

A hair falls between his eyes, causing him to wrinkle his nose into an unbearably cute expression.

You send the chair stumbling backwards when you stand, and that focused gaze flies to you.

“I…um..I am…What time is it? I think we should start to head over.” You attempt to clarify.

Foggy removes the writing utensil from his teeth as his eyes analyze your abrupt movement. You feel exposed the longer he stares and start to grow nervous he somehow could hear your wayward thoughts about the dexterity of his fingers.

“Yeah…good call.” Foggy clears his throat. He stands up to gather his things and you step forward to help him.

Handing him a file, his fingers brush the back of your knuckles and your eyes flutter in response.

Cheeks warm despite the cold, you turn from Foggy and set about blowing out all the candles until you’re both left in the dark.

You walk to the door and rest your hand on the doorknob. Turning your wrist, you pull the doorknob out the socket.

Wait.

What?

You glance down at your hand.

“What the hell?” A sense of dread fills you.

“What’s wrong?” Foggy asks, immediately reacting to your alarmed tone.

When you don’t respond, he navigates his way around the desk and chairs in the dark to come to your aid.

You turn back to the door and stare at the vacant hole with consternation until you feel Foggy’s chest brush your left shoulder.

“What happened?”

The weight of the doorknob feels condemning in your palm. Foggy leans down, squinting through the dark. His cheek is inches from yours, his height enshrouding you as he peers at your hands, and any other time your heart would be beating out of your chest.

Well, it was, but for the wrong reason.

“Oh.” He says. “Shit.”

“I have no idea!” You insist before he can even turn his grave expression on you and ask. “I guess the other side of it came loose and just fell off.”

“Well. That’s just fantastic.” Foggy hooks his index in the hole and tugs hard. The door jiggles with his attempts but holds fast.

“So we’re locked in our own office?” you conclude.

Foggy growls in frustration. He stalks back over to the desk, muttering curses to himself.

“Perfect. Just perfect. Of course…worst day of my life…”

Foggy pats his waist down, pulls out his phone, and then hits the first speed dial button.

“Hey, Matt.” He says sharply. “…Yeah, the fucking handle fell off the door.”   

Morose, you glance down at the knob still in your palm.

“No, I don’t- Y/N turned the knob and it just fell off!….Yeah, I already did that.”

Foggy sighs, hums in affirmation before his shoulders drop.

“You sure? Yeah…ugh…fine yeah, okay.”

Matt must have asked for the new evidence Foggy was supposed to bring, you assume, as Foggy proceeds to explain the needed information and confirm Matt understood it all.

“Good luck, buddy. Don’t lose.”

Foggy hangs up, ceasing his pacing. His hand runs through his now tangled locks then drops to his waist. He looks at you with resignation.

“Matt says he can handle the case by himself. It’s not a full blown hearing so…he’ll come back as soon as he can. The case has already started so he doesn’t have time to run back here.”

“Oh.” The prickling sensation of tears burns behind your eyes. The last thing you want is to ever be the cause of Foggy’s stress. Hell, you spend most of your time trying to be as valuable to him as possible.

Foggy searches around him until he finds matches. He lights the nearest candle and then sits down behind his desk.

He frowns once he sees you haven’t moved from your tense stance near the entrance.

“Hey.”

Your eyes flit to his face and find Foggy smiling at you with his recognizable optimism. The kind of smile that feels like he’s sharing a secret joke with you. He drags your previous chair around the desk, beside his.

“C’mere and sit back down. We have at least three hours before Matt returns.”

You hum in assent, still clutching the doorknob as you make your way over.

Coming around the desk, Foggy’s hand darts out, shielding your hip from the sharp corner when you almost don’t clear it.

You jump at his fingers against your waist. Foggy jerks back just as quickly, his grimace apparent.

“Sorry! I didn’t want you to run into it. That corner in particular bruises like a bitch.”

You laugh, hoping the airy chuckle doesn’t betray how his fingertips ignited a reaction far from displeased within you.

“I appreciate it. And I assume you’re speaking from experience?” You sit down. Your knee brushes his, tingling with proximity. You’ve never had a reason to sit so close to Foggy before, even in the booths at bars, and without the light, you sense more than see his presence within your personal space.

Foggy snorts. “Yeah, of course. Matt does it all the time.”

“Oh, so you have practice holding his waist too?” You don’t know where this brazen energy arises from, but you blame it on the intimacy of being secluded in the office with Foggy and your only light source being a small flame that smells of cinnamon.

Foggy’s lips split before curving into a smirk. He narrows his eyes.

“Are you accusing me of making a grab at you?”

You shake your head frantically.    “No! Sorry, that was stupid. I-“

Foggy laughs, waving your apology away.

“I would hope you think more highly of me to at least buy you dinner first.” He reasons, pursing his mouth into an easy smile.

You bite your lip, eyes widening at the suggestion. Was he serious? Or were you letting your feelings cloud an obvious joke?

“Of course I think highly of you, Foggy.” You say, settling into the chair. You set the doorknob on the desk. Your brow furrows as it reminds you of how Foggy was trapped here with you instead of at the courthouse winning the case he’s worked so hard on.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Seriously, don’t feel bad about the door. This whole shitty place is falling apart.” Foggy gestures vaguely around him. Foggy must have mistaken your silence as guilt. He’s correct in assuming so, but why did he have to read you so damn well?

“No, I know…I just feel bad for you because you deserve to be in that courtroom.”

“Ah, don’t sweat it. Matt’s got it handled. I’m sure they prefer the handsome lawyer down there anyways. Case will go in our favor that way.” He chuckles.

“Handsome?” You frown, not getting the punchline.

His eyes flicker over your face as if to gage how serious you are being.

Foggy shrugs. “Out of the two of us, Matt’s the better lawyer, both in the legal department and looks department.” His half-hearted laugh fails to win you over.

“That isn’t- that’s not true.” You stumble over your words, because it would be foolish to deny the attention the brunet lawyer garners on a consistent basis. However, you weren’t about to accept Matt’s good looks at the cost of denying Foggy’s attractive features either.

Foggy snorts. He shakes his head, hair brushing his shoulders as he does so and you’re overcome with an intense need to make him realize just how important he is to everyone. To you.

“Foggy, you’re incredible to watch in action.”

Foggy’s frown is near comical with his exaggerated pout. You lean in, determined to convince him.

“Foggy, you’re a hell of a good lawyer, too. If Matt is so talented then he wouldn’t partner with someone who wasn’t on his level. The two of you have your own firm. Matt’s not your boss. He’s your equal. That goes for the ‘looks’ department as well. You’re an attractive, generous, compassionate lawyer and it’s a privilege to work with you.”

Foggy’s expression is unreadable as he listens to you rant. His eyes search your face, flitting back and forth with thoughts known only to him. His brow falters slightly and you fear he’s uncomfortable with your impromptu speech.

But eventually, that full mouth of his turns upwards.

Unfortunately, the smile he wears accompanies a glimmer in his eye that makes you lean back into your own chair.

Foggy follows you, invading your breathing space with the heady scent of his aftershave and a hint of shampoo akin to vanilla.   

“What other traits do I possess?”

All at once you realize how revealing your compliments are. Blooming crimson, you attempt a verbal retreat that Foggy has no intention of allowing.

“Oh, um…I didn’t-I just mean…”

“C’mon, tell me! Attorney client privilege.” Foggy winks, his grin upheld and only growing bolder as he rests his cheek on his fist, full attention on you now.

Well, you did wish for that.

“Technically, to be your client I would need to pay you first.” You throw out, if only to prolong the inevitable corner of confession he was backing you into.

“Aha! So you do learn a thing or two around this office. I’ll only charge you five bucks.” Foggy retorts easily enough.

“I don’t have money on me, but since you’ve been known to accept fruit baskets, would you accept other forms of payment?”

“What do you have in mind?” Foggy’s grin is downright devious.

Your eyes widen as you effectively have backed yourself into the corner you were trying to avoid.

A nervous laugh bubbles from your racing heart as you shake your head, waving your hand too for good measure.

“Nothing! I’m kidding, Foggy.”

“Blood money? Was it blood money?”

“No?…No, it was a stupid joke.”

“Tell me.” Foggy sits up, his demeanor becoming serious.

“Please?” He whispers.

You chew on your lower lip, trying to swallow down the thundering of your heart as silence permeates the dimly lit atmosphere between you two.

Maybe it’s the influence of the warm fire painting Foggy’s gaze in such a soft, accepting light, as if he already knows what you’re thinking - or is even feeling it too. Maybe it’s the months of holding back the truth from someone you would tell anything to in a heartbeat. Maybe it’s the hope that ultimately outweighs the anxiety that causes you to admit it.

No longer do the candles, blizzard, or darkness feel like a hindrance. Now they feel intimate, cozy, and warm.

Romantic.

“I was gonna say…something super corny like, “just my undying affection.” You feel like an idiot, grimacing with the confession.

Your eyes dare to check Foggy’s expression, knowing he’s probably gonna reel back in aversion.

Instead, Foggy scoffs, shaking his head slightly. “You’re affection? Jeez, now that’s nowhere near corny.” He purses his lips and his hair brushes his cheek as he shakes his head.

“Earning your attention, let alone your affection - damn, I would win a hundred cases for you, guaranteed!”

You want to blame the playful words as an excuse to ignore the sincerity in his tone, but your body reacts before you can, heart leaping with a thrill of joy and your lips begging for more.

“Guaranteed?”

“Nothing drives a man like his unwavering passion for the woman he adores.”

You must look crazed, in the throes of shock as your brain tries to process the meaning behind his words. Foggy adores you? Really?

Your mouth continues to take the lead.

“You mean that?”

Foggy lifts his hand in the distance between you, which is scarce, and hesitates a second before placing his warm hand atop both your hands picking at each other’s fingertips. The weight of his palm and the comfort of his grip squeezes your fretting hands still. You release a soft exhale.

“Y/n, I’ve never been more serious.    I’ve adored every detail of yours since you graced my office.”

You don’t know what to say, so you nod.

You keep nodding until it dawns that your feelings are reciprocated, perhaps more than you dared hope for.

And then you’re smiling, beaming, and still nodding, as Foggy brings the hand up from your grasp and cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb over in a silent hello before he presses his lips to your mouth.

You press in, feeling him wholly as mint overwhelms your senses. Your lips move with his, chin lifting as you chase his mouth and he meets you once more, applying pressure before he withdraws, and releases your bottom lip from his teeth.

You can’t see much in the dark anyways, but right now you can’t see a thing. Only spots that accompany the ringing in your ears. You might be light-headed too.

Your dazed silence breaks when Foggy’s whisper begins to escalate.

“Before I have a heart attack…tell me I didn’t screw this up. If I read it wrong and you were just joking-“

“No, no! It’s just…I can’t believe you like me back.” Your laugh is a soft exhale before a sharp intake of breath.

“This isn’t some ‘lights go out and we’re vulnerable in the dark confession.” Foggy says as he cups your face once more.

“I mean every word I say in the dark.” He kisses you again and you welcome his eager affection before he pulls back. You open your eyes just in time for the lights flicker on with a stumbling hum as the building regains power.

“And the light.” Foggy tacks on to his previous statement.

You snort, biting your lip in vain to stop your giddy smile.

“That was pretty fucking cool timing if you ask me.” He says, the same elated grin on his flushed visage.

“That was, I’ll admit.” You laugh. You run your tongue across your lips, savoring the taste of his kiss.

“I wish someone could have witnessed it.” Foggy continues to rave, basking in your growing smile of amusement.

“I did.”

Matt stands in the doorway with a wicked grin.

“Missing something?” He asks. Your eyes flit down to his hand.

The other side of the doorknob.

Matt waltzes over to the desk, grabs the doorknob, then returns to the entry and slides it back into place.

Your frown deepens when he unpockets a screw. Within ten seconds the door is fixed with a good rattle to test it out.

“Lucky thing the case got canceled. You guys would have been stuck in this room all night.” Matt says, passing you both on his way to his office. Presumably to start the next caseload.

Foggy breaks first, swiveling in his chair to jab a finger at Matt’s retreating back.

“You bastard!”

Matt spins around once he’s behind the door of his office. He gives ample time to leave his smirk on display as he closes the door in a slow, dramatic fashion until it clicks with finality.

And with it, a realization of his strange behavior today.

You gasp.

Matt never left the building.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

The Missing Ingredient

Tonight I was casually rereading the chapters that are about to be adapted in the anime when something hit me, and now I have to talk about it ASAP even if it’s not fully fleshed out. You’re getting insomniac-Lin this time, folks.

So. Chapter 304, the one where Izuku finally gets to speak with the vestiges while he’s unconscious in the hospital, has bugged me since the day it came out. I couldn’t articulate it, but something about the way OFA was explained felt like conjecture, or like it was made up on the fly. Idk, it just seemed kinda weak. The detail that I think gets overlooked is that this “lore” is, in fact, conjecture. All Might’s, specifically. It’s his research and logical assumption that led to the conclusion that quirkless people are the only ones able to handle OFA. But we can and should consider the explanation given in 304, that whole business with the overflowing chalices, to be unreliable narration. It is simply a somewhat educated guess.

Like I said, I’ve thought this for a while, but I wasn’t able to get any further with it. Tonight, I went over it again, and I asked myself: other than the fact that All Might was quirkless, what else makes him different from his predecessors? All Might specifically compared himself to the 4th, the one who died of old age, so I did the same. Well… the only other thing about the 4th that stands out is that he spent his life totally alone. This fact is emphasized clearly, and yet, it’s significance is hiding in plain sight: what if the isolation is what killed him?

Thematically, this story has established the dangers and damaging effects of isolation many times, from All Might’s lonely career, to the Todoroki family’s dysfunction, to society’s abandonment of the villains, to Izuku’s misadventures as a solo act. I could go on, but the point is, we are led to see that people become their worst selves when they are alone. Horikoshi has drilled this idea so deeply into the way I analyze bnha that I now look at the 4th and see that he epitomizes the flaw of self-isolation. He kept well hidden and he devoted himself to training, but in the end it wasn’t enough. What is enough? Why is Yagi Toshinori still alive to this day despite the fate Night Eye saw for him? Unless you believe he’s still bound to die, which I don’t, then there’s one simple reason: Izuku. It wasn’t only All Might who changed Izuku’s life, but also the other way around. Because of Izuku, Toshinori gradually regained his sense of purpose and drive, his very will to keep living even when “All Might” was long gone. Because of their bond, he is given the gift of a life beyond passing the torch of OFA. That in itself is something no previous OFA user has ever had before. THAT, if you ask me, is what sets him apart. So what does that say about OFA?

Let’s backtrack for a second. Chapter 304 also directly states that OFA drastically changed about four months prior:

I think we can accept this as reality because it’s just an observation, BUT. What’s odd is it’s left without a “why.” As in, why did it change? Was it simply the “right time?” Was there a trigger? Was it a milestone of Izuku’s strength? No definitive explanation is offered. I decided to look back on “four months ago” and see if I could pick up on anything. Of course it’s referring to when Izuku first had a vision of his predecessors in a dream, and when he unlocked blackwhip—but again, no one knew “why now?” I found that the progress made in this arc is actually nicely summarized in chapter 257:

Here we see that Izuku finally feels like he has a place in the world and a true connection with people he cares about, specifically with Toshinori and Katsuki. Incidentally, this is also the chapter where we learn that the previous OFA users all died young, and it ends with Toshinori talking about what it means for him to keep living. It’s no longer about “helping” in the way he used to as a hero, but just being there for others as a person. So the growth of OFA coincides with Izuku’s developing relationships.

The logical assumption that I’m now going to make is that Toshi’s consciousness in the OFA realm exists because of the connection he forged with Izuku. His fire-y spectral presence is not a vestige at all, not even remotely the same thing as the other previous users, which are only there because of their quirk factors. They are more like memories of people, whereas Toshi’s is a manifestation of a living soul. Still, we would be led to assume it only forms within OFA because Toshinori himself once had the quirk. However…

Katsuki is involved now too. And I don’t think we can claim he is a previous OFA user since Heroes Rising is only loosely canon and the transfer was never completed anyway. Rather, like Toshinori, Katsuki is a deeply important person in Izuku’s life, and that apparently is enough. Since Toshinori normally has a slight psychic connection to his OFA manifestation, my guess is Katsuki also had this vague sort of sense, and maybe a ghostly manifestation of his own, but in his current near-death state, that signal is strengthened to the point where he is fully aware and present inside OFA. As for the reason he’s in a separate setting to the vestiges, and Toshinori’s manifestation is also there, it’s like a Venn diagram. The previous users are in one place, living people closest to Izuku are in another, and Ghost Toshi can go between them because he is both, the overlap of the Venn diagram. Regardless of these technical details though, I think the clues point to the idea that OFA grows from and is meant to be used by someone who is interdependent and has supportive relationships, while isolation causes it to behave like a parasite. The concept also lends itself well to OFA affecting/providing power to others, namely Katsuki, if one is so inclined to those theories. Where I’m at right now, I just think OFA and its wielder have finally gained something they’ve been missing all along. But Izuku still has to fully embrace that.

[momokarp]

Heyyyy I saw your Danny Phantom comic about him reading the Great Gatsby during the fight with Vlad (great art btw), and I was wondering if u could give a long-suffering student a rundown of the themes?

I’m gonna cover the themes I can think of off the top of my head and if you really need me to go into more details, I CAN??? But this is just a quick “it’s 7 in the morning for me and I’m actually gonna hyperfixate real quick” kinda moment.

Yes, there are two kinds of rich people, and yes, one side really doesn’t like the other. It’s apparent in Tom and all of his opinions of Gatsby are later on in the book when he finally attends one of his fancy parties.

Old money gets their opinions and styles and tastes from their parents who got it from their parents. It’s a boys club, if you’re in? You’re in, and it’s hard to get in unless you’re of a certain pedigree.

New money? Loud. Outrageous. Doesn’t even know what to do with all that money and everyone is welcome to enjoy it. Gatsby owns a BRIGHT ASS YELLOW CAR not because it’s of a certain model but because it screams loud and expensive and “look at me” and it’s not just cause he’s trying to get with your wife. He knows how to ACT like old money, to a certain degree, but at the end of the day, he can’t hide that he wasn’t born into it.

An unreliable narrator is usually a story told from a first person point of view and their own biases can often warp the reader’s perspective on the events unfolding. Nick even tries to clarify that he doesn’t judge people. Yeah, OUT LOUD, but he’s judging internally. Which is making you, the reader, judge. Tom has an affair with Myrtle Wilson. Nick IS quietly judging them although he tries not to and how could he not? Daisy is his cousin, and he sees the man she’s married make her move away from Chicago and Tom is not hiding his affair very well, she clearly knows about it and hates it.

Oh but here comes Gatsby, with this beautiful story of how he fell in love and went to war and couldn’t be with her and came back and she’s MARRIED and now he’s trying to win her back- and Nick HELPS HIM. THAT’S NOT UNBIASED. HE IS SWAYED. He sides with Gatsby through and through, even when he starts to see the flaws in Gatsby’s vision, he wants to cheer for him.

We’re going back to the green light here for a minute. Gatsby gets a house DIRECTLY ACROSS the lake from where Daisy’s is. There’s the green light at the end of her dock that flashes, that’s a reminder to Gatsby when he looks out that his dream is just over there. Daisy, the perfect gal, along with acceptance into the fancy rich lifestyle. He wants to meet her parents, he wants to have kids with her, he wants to be a somebody, an established respectable person.

But he’s kind of fooling himself too. He wants too much. It’s not enough to have Daisy, she needs to RENOUNCE her ever loving Tom and then properly marry him. He wants to be a part of the boy’s club, but Tom finds out that he has gained his wealth through the mafia and that’s not very respectable! He wants Daisy to call him in the morning, a call that never comes because she won’t cast aside her lifestyle for him. She was raised to trust and live in the sheltered life she was brought up in, even if she’s unhappy. It’s safer than the unknown. She chooses to stay with Tom, as even she realizes she can’t live up to Gatsby’s ideals.

It’s ironic cause this is the Oxford English Dictionary definition and Gatsby is an “Oxford Man!” Not only has Gatsby idealized on the American Dream, but it’s a dream that was never real. Yes, he did get rich, but not because he had equal opportunities. He got lucky to help out an old rich man on his boat (WHICH HE DIDNT EVEN GET ANY MONEY FROM) to learn the rich social skills, and he worked with the mafia to get all his wealth. Yes, he got Daisy, but not REALLY. He had an affair with her. They didn’t marry properly, didn’t have kids, didn’t move in together. And Daisy never intended on doing any of these things. She wanted to run away.

And Gatsby was never going to get these things because he wasn’t BORN rich. Tom represents the concept of Old Money so well not only in how he lacks any genuine character that isn’t inherited from his father, but how protective he is of keeping the status quo, so that he remains in power and no one who doesn’t fit the club can come in.

And Gatsby pays the price of his affair while Tom gets away with everything. How is this the American Dream? It isn’t.

Okay, that’s my stuff. I can go into symbolism on the yellow car and big billboard and all that other stuff if this was helpful at all. I hope it is helpful???

[fulcrum-art-fox]

The fact they’ve done a twin swap where everyone involved either already knows or will absolutely catch on real quick is fabulous irony and subversion I think. Like, they’ve already done the “mistaken identity” arc, but now we’ll get to see how characters close to each of the twins will interact with the other

Darth Teeth absolutely knows which twin he has, and I for one am very interested to see his interactions with her. Probably he will try and manipulate and or persuade Osha to his way of thinking, especially given how he feels Mae has failed him and the possibility the visions that Osha’s been getting of Mae since episode one may be coming from him, all “he gets in your head, and once he gets in your head he stays there” mind tricky. Add in the possibility that he may know what actually happened sixteen years ago, or another version if it anyway, and it’ll be very interesting to see how that goes

And Sol, who possibly already knows (the gap after “Osha” ie. Mae has no idea who he’s asked about and the incredulous look he gives her are hella suspicious) or, distracted by the deep emotional trauma he has experienced tonight, may possibly have overlooked which twin he’s taken away with him in the moment, he has all the information he needs to quickly identify it’s Mae, starting with their very clear identifying tattoos and ending with Mae’s terrible acting skills, mirroring Osha’s terrible performance when pretending to be Mae. Now we already know Sol has a deep soft spot for Mae, which he had when the girls were children and now with an additional helping of guilt for whatever happened in the sixteen year ago grey area, so it’ll be very interesting seeing how he handles reaching out for (which he will almost inevitably do given his previous attempts and “there’s still good in her attitude) this slightly unhinged feral cat of a young woman who just left her sister to face god knows what on a planet that’s just witnessed a bloodbath

The idea that we may get two accounts of what happened sixteen years ago, one presented to Mae by one of the Jedi she so hates, and one presented to Osha by a man who describes himself as Sith and just murdered several of her peers, is very exciting, especially in a story of unreliable narrators and misunderstandings, the idea of two different narrators, Darth Teeth and Sol, presenting the “truth” through different lenses to persuade each twin to one way or other of thinking or sell a different outcome or present themselves in a different light etc is just so deliciously fascinating to me

[nothingenoughao3]

hai i'm curious about what twin peaks is, can you explain it to me (preferably without spoilers) /nf

Oh, is it my birthday?! Yes I can do that!

I will say that I generally do not consider things that happen in the pilot or first episode of a TV series to be "spoilers" so much as "premise". So anything I say here that's direct plot-stuff will only come from the pilot. All right? Let's dig in!

CAPSULE SUMMARY

Twin Peaks is a surreal/magical realism/police procedural/drama/horror/soap opera produced by David Lynch and Mark Frost. It had two seasons of 30 episodes total, a film (Fire Walk With Me), and a third season that came out 25 years later in 2017.

In the pilot episode, a teenaged young woman who everyone in town knows, Laura Palmer, is found murdered. The town reels to cope with her demise and the investigation. A second young woman is found alive and wandering--and she crossed state lines as she wandered. The police call in the FBI, since it's now a multi-state case, and in walks Special Agent Dale Cooper.

As Cooper begins his investigation, he discovers that there's far, far more going on in Twin Peaks than he'd first anticipated.

[NOTE HERE that Twin Peaks covers a LOT of extremely tough and triggering topics over the course of its run. DoesTheDogDie should have a list of all triggers, although those will come with spoilers. The main one to be aware of is that sexual assault, domestic abuse, and rape are discussed. The aftermath of these crimes is depicted. It's 1990, so it's not graphic as in Law & Order: SVU, but it is very much present. Please take care of yourself first!]

NOT-SPOILER REASONS TO WATCH IT

It is a vital historical work of art. Twin Peaks revived the police procedural, popularized soap operas as an art form, launched and relaunched multiple acting careers, introduced surrealism to multiple generations of TV watchers, taught basics of Buddhism, helped spread awareness of the Free Tibet movement, and inspired countless references and imitators. When you watch Twin Peaks, you'll feel like you've seen it before... because you've almost certainly seen something which only exists because of Twin Peaks.

David Lynch is Autism Patient Zero who does not compromise his writing or his vision for NT audiences. He writes dialogue and directs actors in a way that can only be described as "everybody's got the autism accent", and it is a DELIGHT to experience.

The visuals are, often, so strong that you will forget how to breathe. Many of the sets and locations are treated like characters in and of themselves.

The title, Twin Peaks, ties into the show's central themes about identity, which is one of my favorite themes in fiction. What makes you who you are? If there was someone who looked a lot like you, would that compromise who you are? What if they have the same name as you? Are you no longer who you are if you can't remember your past? Is it sometimes a good thing to change your identity? What if everybody thinks you did something unforgivable, but you don't remember it? Does society require all of us to have public faces and private faces? Does anyone really know another person's private face?

When I first watched it, nobody shipped Trucoop (Cooper with the local police sheriff, Harry S. Truman). Now it seems like everybody does and I am not alone, yaaay.

Features one of the very few trans characters in media at the time who was unambiguously positive!

Watch an episode, then pull up the IMDB and see who everyone is. I guarantee that you'll almost always find SOMEone who was famous for other stuff. If you like Star Trek, you'll find that half the damn cast was either on TNG or DS9. It is honestly astounding to me that Jeff Combs wasn't on the series (because, I assume, he was shooting Bride of Re-Animator and other stuff).

THINGS TO WATCH OUT FOR

The subtitling in some versions of the show (on DVD specifically) is really bad and unreliable. I found that the Netflix subtitles were OK. If you don't know about OpenSubtitle, I recommend using them to find better subtitles in case you need them.

As stated above, the show gets into really dark themes, and it does not shy away from them when necessary. I feel that these things are addressed in a sensitive way and frequently related to plot, but it hits everyone different.

The music... eh. I like the electro/late 80s theme and the instrumentals that back most of the scenes. But every time someone sings, I get the cringe. I've never been able to get on board with what Lynch thinks good music sounds like. But a lot of people do, so that could just be me.

It takes a lot of work to watch this show. Since so much of it is visual, it is absolutely a show you have to watch with no distractions. I found it to be worth it--past a certain point, I didn't want any distractions. But I get where it's a sacrifice of time and concentration.

If you watch it and enjoy it, you will probably end up with Lynchian Syndrome, where you are compelled to watch every other thing David Lynch has ever made and develop elaborate hypotheses on how they're all in the same universe and suchlike.

So yeah! I hope this gives you an spoiler-free idea of why this show is so special, and if you had any other questions about it, let me know!

[tanith-rhea]

Only Pretending #7

Word count: 2.9k Author's note: Ok... this one has been a long time coming, I know, and I'm SORRY!!! Life's crazy and I'm unreliable. I hope you all enjoy it because I sure did a thousand changes on this one and maybe a plot point or two in the structure, so... my fingers are crossed so hard that there's no blood running through them. I want to thank @alder-saan for the support and feedback, I wouldn't bring that particular thing up too much until you helped me realize it is more important than I think and the reader doesn't have the same context I do. Kisses!

Larissa’s lips were cool, but her tongue was warm and wine-sweet, and soon enough all your senses were her. Her skin was hot when your hands went to her face and neck, slowly slipping to her shoulders underneath her robe. She hadn’t worn perfume yet, so her scent was slowly fading shower products and her. She was all-consuming. Your thoughts, senses and yearning were all hers.

She stood up with your face in her hands, never leaving your lips and dextrously sat on your lap. She towered over you, there was nothing else but her, and you knew there would never be something after her.

“Do you think we have time…” you started, out of breath and a little broken. She was planting long, reverent kisses on your cheeks, eyelids and forehead, stopping on the crease between your eyebrows and smoothing it away. You wanted all of her now, it was so much it didn’t even count as want; you needed her.

You felt the press of her smile and a warm puff of air as she chuckled.

“It depends on how fast you can shower and your thoughts on arriving fashionably late,” her voice was an amused rumble as she distanced herself a bit.

You would never make it in time. You knew it, but you also couldn’t let go of her. Her thighs underneath your hands were the definition of power, you felt dizzy thinking of them squeezing your face until your vision faded and all you could taste was her.

With a frustrated growl, you grabbed her ass and pulled her impossibly closer, resting your forehead on her chest. She had the audacity to chuckle at you and her fingers started a soothing pattern between your shoulder blades.

“What’s so funny?” you half grumbled.

You felt her laugh a bit more before saying, “Nothing. You’re just adorably impatient, I didn’t think you had It in you.”

“Didn’t last night prove I had?”

“You were far too considerate and kind, last night.”

You lifted your face to look her in the eye, unable to mask the tiniest of smirks.

“So, if I’d had my way with you, you’d have been surprised?”

“What makes you think it would be your way?” she cocked a brow and returned your smirk.

“I don’t know…” she gasped when your fingers sunk into her flesh, her expression quickly changing to show how affected she was, “But I seem to remember you being very pliant yesterday.” You kissed her lips chastely, feeling the electric sparks from Larissa’s pent-up desire around you.

Her fingers on your shoulders would likely leave prints. Good thing you’d be wearing a blazer over your top. You planted one last quick kiss on her lips before nudging her to let you up. She did so with an eye-roll to unsuccessfully hide her almost pout, and you had to bite your lip not to smile too much before leaving for the bathroom.

When you came back, Larissa was sitting at the vanity, doing her make-up. She was wearing a long-sleeved, silver mermaid dress that hugged her body just right before loosening lightly just below her thighs. She had a darker shade of her signature lipstick on, a burgundy red that almost mimicked the colour of your three-piece ensemble and wore silver jewellery and heels the colour of her nails and lipstick. She looked exquisite.

You knew she was watching you in the mirror while you let your robe fall to the ground, exposing your bare back and lace panties. You smiled to yourself at her audible stillness and started dressing. First your trousers, then the blouse, which you turned to give her a better view of you putting on, and deliberately buttoned up the slowest possible, eyes fixed on its buttons and your skin. When you looked up, her eyes were on the same track as yours had been, just as you finished covering your chest.

“Do I have something on me?” you pretended to search your top, looking for possible stains and the like.

“Do get over yourself, girl,” Larissa faked annoyance.

“Girl? I’ll have you know I’m almost thirty!”

“Don’t remind me,” the humour in her voice pulled you in, going over to her and sitting on the narrow bench.

“What? Not keen on getting old?” you didn’t mean to sound so soft.

“I am already,” her small smile had fondness but also something else in it, her searching eyes dissecting your every reaction.

“Would you like me to call you Miss Weems?” you breathed, hand tracing the bare skin of her clavicles, up to her neck.

You’d never heard her growl before. It was addicting from the very first time. She reached for your knee and waist and swiftly brought you to her lap.

“Do not ruin my make-up,” she warned, matter-of-factly, before deftly undoing your trouser buttons and pulling down its zipper.

“What are you doing? We have a party in fifteen minutes!” you could not care less about the damned party as her fingers unceremoniously slid inside your clothes and between your folds.

You gasped and gripped her shoulders with white-knuckled desperation. Her gaze bore holes deep into yours, watching every faint bat of your lashes and twitch of your eyebrows.

“I think we’ll be done by then,” she murmured in your ear and sucked at the lobe while two fingers dipped into you.

You didn’t realize before how wet you were from simply teasing her, but as she moved inside you with ease and brought her fingers to your clit, they were drenched.

She kissed and sucked the skin from your jaw to the base of your neck, lowering to your chest, exposed by the low cut of your top. You reached for her hair, dying to weave your fingers into her updo, but she gripped your wrist with a nimble movement and held it behind your back.

“I remember someone saying something about a party?” her mock pensive expression as she stroked at just the right speed was infuriating and intoxicating at the same time. You had imagined being at Larissa’s mercy many times, but if this small demonstration already had you undone, you might not survive her full attention for a night.

She kissed your sternum and quickened her fingers; you felt your thigh muscles spasm and lost control of your hips. She left your hand to hold you in place and took advantage when you arched your back in a breathless attempt to relieve tension to nuzzle her way underneath your loose blouse. You made a sound that was half a whimper and half a gasp as her lips closed around your nipple, warm and sure, and she hummed. She made soothing circles with her thumb on your hip and chuckled when your head found the vanity’s mirror and pushed it, inclining the entire thing and knocking several make-up supplies over.

You huffed, indignant that she found mirth in your suffering, so close to release but kept at bay by her bursts of speed interrupted by sudden gentler touches.

“Larissa, please,” you mewled, propped back into your elbow, every cell of your body howling for relief.

“Begging already? It’s been five minutes, dearest,” she released your nipple only to give it a peck before coming up to stare dangerously into your eyes.

“Please, this is torture…” your voice was little more than a whisper.

“I remember you having no qualms torturing me,” she growled, pinching your clit lightly. It was too much, and your eyes watered as you squealed in surprise. “Standing there with almost nothing, tracing fingers on what’s mine-“

“Am I?” you battled to get the words out with almost no air.

“I would think it’s a bit obvious,” she circled her fingers on your hood, the way she noticed that made you melt.

“Then take care of me…”

You could almost feel the thunderous flash in her eyes strike you as she lunged for your lips and kissed you hard. There were no more soothing thumbs or gentle touches. Her hand gripped your hip forcefully against the vanity and her fingers pressed hard and fast until you were choking on the little air you had and screaming Larissa’s name.

You couldn’t say for how long you came. The first thing you saw when you came back to your senses was Larissa licking her fingers and cleaning the lipstick around her lips. How she could look so put together while doing it would be unfair if it wasn’t her, but she was perfect, so, what else to expect?

“I’m afraid you ruined your knickers,” she noted in a sweet tone.

“Oh, fuck… I’m worse than a teenager…”

“Hardly, dear. I would help you clean up if we had time, but someone did exactly the opposite as I told them to and now, I have to start again,” she faked annoyance as she reached into the mess of things above the vanity and ignored your indignant huff, only smirking as you went to change your panties.

She’d be the death of you.

While putting on the garnet ring and earrings you brought to match your outfit, a thought occurred to you.

“What do you think we trade jewellery?”

“Hum?” she walked over, surveying you from head to toe and back up, swallowing once she got your face again.

“You have silver, I have red… we could colour coordinate our outfits by swapping.”

“You just want to wear my neckless, don’t you?” that might be part of the reason, yes. But it was a very beautiful diamond choker, thin and simple but also screaming ownership — honestly, that was the main reason behind it all, for everyone to know you wanted nothing more than be hers (or that you were, weren’t you?).

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

When both of you were ready — Larissa having done your make-up while teasing you for looking “like my sweet little pet” with her necklace — you joined the party.

You had no idea when all those people arrived, but the foyer was packed. Some of the guests you were introduced to earlier were around. Mr Itt and his wife, Gomez’s brother, Fester, who seemed to be talking with a very intriguing woman of appearance quite similar to his, and grandmama’s sister, Miss Sloom. But mostly strangers, strange ones at that. It was incredible.

You spotted mummies, gorgons, sirens, and all manner of outcasts. Some of whom you had no idea what they identified as.

“Wow, so they weren’t lying!” a strange drawling voice sounded from the side and a broad-shouldered, smiling man made his way through some people to get to you and Larissa. “When Phillie told me you were taken tonight I almost choked on my champagne.”

You guessed this man went to school with Larissa, and his convinced demeanour and attempt at an LA accent made you gag. Why were all her former colleagues pricks? Gomez was the only exception to the rule until now. If everybody else was like this, you couldn’t blame Larissa for liking the only decent person in the bunch.

“Samuel, how nice seeing you here,” you had to disguise your snort with a cough, “This is y/n, the woman I believe Ophelia referred to.”

“Ophelia?”

“Morticia’s sister, and also an old friend,” she explained easily.

“Pleasure to meet a real person,” he extended his hand for you to shake and looked ever cockier, somehow.

“For fuck’s sake, what is your problem?!”

Larissa and Samuel seemed surprised by your little outburst.

“Why do you have to be such a dick? I’ve never met you before and I can’t stand you already. Have you nothing better to do with your night? Is your sense of humour so underdeveloped that you have to resort to cheap commentary to amuse yourself? Are you what, twelve?” you took Larissa’s hand and started walking through the crowd, “Leave us alone, and don’t you dare open your mouth to talk about Larissa because I will find you and I will make you pee in fear like the toddler you act like.”

At your raised voice, some of the guests turned to look at what was happening, but you were already leaving towards the buffet table. You walked past Lurch carrying champagne glasses on the way and thanked whoever was listening for the alcohol.

“What was all that?” relief washed through your body as you heard Larissa’s amused question. She wasn’t displeased, perfect.

“I’m so sick of people from your school days acting like pig-headed kids. What was going on in the 80s that everyone seems to be a bigoted imbecile?”

Larissa only laughed, and close to her, you heard someone you couldn’t see snort.

“Not all of them were bad, you just weren’t so lucky to meet many good ones,” Larissa explained, “However, Samuel was always a bit extra. Wanted to be an actor when we were students, I believe.”

“Do you think he is?”

“With that accent? A very bad one, maybe,” a very distinct monotone joined your conversation. Wednesday, Enid and grandmama stepped closer. Enid and the Addams matriarch filling their plates with food and having a heated discussion about… animal abuse?

“You were listening?” you asked, you could swear she wasn’t around for the commotion.

“I listen to him every year, and every other one as well. I’m sorry, but principal Weems is being unnecessarily dismissive as per usual; they’re intolerable.”

“But everyone is to you, isn’t that right?” Larissa’s tone betrayed her meaning, and she looked very pleased with herself when looking at Enid just a few feet away.

Wednesday rolled her eyes but didn’t look Larissa in the face, instead chancing a… fond? Glance at the pair with her. It occurred to you that this was the first event outside the school where they were officially together.

“I guess I understand why you wanted us to come then,” you really did, you weren’t far from brooding in a corner as well if people would be so unsavoury the whole night.

“You two are exhausting,” Larissa shook her head, unable to mask her amusement, and joined grandmama and Enid.

You watched the people around for a beat, old acquaintances reuniting and close friends giggling, but both you and Wednesday weren’t the type to beat around the bush.

“How’s Enid doing?”

“Thank-you-for-what-you-did.”

You smiled — she did something close — and gestured for her to speak first.

“Thank you for talking with her. She told me,” Wednesday sounded surer this time, her posture seemed straighter, and her eyes were trained at the crowd, “I thought she wouldn’t come when I left. She was smiling too much and acting more excited than normal.”

“And is she ok?” you searched for her eyes, she wasn’t one not to rise to a challenge and looked at you pointedly, “I was afraid her parents would come somehow, your mother invited a lot of people.”

“I asked her not to,” she confessed, looking at Enid, whom you saw was making Larissa chuckle and grandmama cackle, “She’s the bane of my existence, but she seems to love me oddly enough.”

“Mothers and daughters,” you shrugged. It was good to be reminded that Morticia was just a person sometimes, “It’ll get better in a few years.”

“Hello, there!!” Enid chirped when she joined you both and went to hug you again. That was the standard Enid greeting, you came to understand after only a small number of weeks working at Nevermore. And it was a blessing to the world, her hugs somehow had the quality of a bear’s without being deadly — most of the time.

“Hi, dear, how are you?”

“Oh, you know, basking in the glory of being right,” she smirks tightly to contain her previous smile, tossing her hair with a quirked brow, “I just convinced Dorie to walk to alligator to the swamp twice a week. She told me he’s been in the cellar for decades, the poor thing!”

“Dorie?” you didn’t know anyone else lived in the mansion.

“Me, silly, Eudora Addams,” grandmama joined the circle, “This ridiculous girl says it wants to go outside and pestered me enough that I just figured why not. Anything to shut her up,” she shrugged, faking annoyance and with a last look towards Wednesday, the woman left.

“She likes you,” Wednesday, in turn, seemed mystified.

While you were talking, Larissa had apparently wandered off. Surely, she would have told you if she was going somewhere, so being stolen by an old associate was the most logical reason you could think of.

Excusing yourself of the girls, you started searching the party for tall and stunning, but she wasn’t there. It was easy spotting her in a crowd since few matched her stature and Lurch was the only one whose shoulders you could see above the bodies.

You decided to look in the rooms around, going from the dining room to the drawing and then the study. Nearing the door to the last, you heard a muffled conversation, and a particularly irate voice caught your attention. Larissa’s temper was unmistakable.

“You have to be kidding me! You are the entire reason why we didn’t work out!” you heard her spat. Apparently, she was having a discussion with a previous… lover?

The second voice was too low for you to understand what it said, but the hairs at the nape of your neck told the tale quite accurately. You knew exactly who was behind that door and wouldn’t keep standing there hearing them talk like a nosy aunt thirsting for gossip.

However, when you opened the door you didn’t expect to see the woman who had you reduced to a breathless mess kissing another person.

Tags are as follows: @anti-bright-places, @pro-weems-places, @the-bagel24, @regalbootie, @tundra1029, @thoroughly-confused-kiwi-blog, @lilsmeaux, @poorwritingandstalecoffee, @alder-saan, @jelly-frogss, @enchantressb, @imean-its-just-me, @lvinhs, @iloveyall-18, @kimiinou, @jeweleegrey (still not tagging, WHY???), @a-queen-and-her-throne, and last but not least, @one-pining-queer!

Chapter Eight