#and people who want to use her as a weapon

[heavenorhella2001]

This had never occurred to me way back when when I first watched playthroughs of the game/played it myself, but;

Seeing this post made me remember Max's nightmare, when she was trapped in her own mind/a broken version of reality.

And seeing this now?

Max definitely has PTSD.

Everyone always primarily discusses/ focuses on Chloe's trauma (which is understandable. I'll always be a Chloe defender and don't want to downplay her trauma by any means.)

But, unfortunately, Max's is overlooked.

Now, a lot of people might view this skeptically, question the idea of Max having PTSD. To many, it might seem like Max doesn't really have any lasting form of major trauma after the events of the game. Maybe she really was content and at peace and happy-go-lucky. (I've always scoffed at that scene at Chloe's funeral, when Max smiles at the butterfly.) And I'll admit, within the context of the story maybe we aren't supposed to think so. But if that's the case I just have to assume that's due to the developing team's lack of knowledge, experience with mental health and how it works, the impact things like this have on someone. Not that they are coming from a malicious place, of course. But very rarely does a person 'get it' unless they've been through it themselves. The average person simply won't understand.

But if you see everything I've described here as it's laid out, it makes total sense;

Let's talk about Jefferson. He is just one of many elements in the game contributing to Max's trauma. He was her teacher, someone she looked up to, respected, and was supposed to be able to trust. She truly felt safe around him. It's implied she had a crush on him. But her image of him completely shattered. After the truth about him was revealed, she was no longer able to trust her own judgement of people, her perception of reality.

He drugged her when she was vulnerable, and she was helpless to watch as he shot and killed the love of her life right in front of her. He kidnapped her, and she was thrown from the frying pan right into the fire. When she woke up she was tied up in a basement, helpless, and he had burned all her photos. Not only precious memories, but also one of her only means of going back and fixing things. He then took photos of her, over and over, this went on for who knows how long, while she was drugged, tied up and helpless, in order to satisfy his own perversions. Throughout, he mocked and tormented her.

Then, let's go into what happened with Chloe. Having to watch her best friend, the girl she loved, die over and over and over again. Max felt responsible for fixing it, preventing it, because she was the only one who possibly could. She would blame herself, think of it as a failure on her part each time Chloe died.

After watching her die in various ways, so many times, I'm sure Max questioned if she really even could save Chloe- or if Chloe was supposed to die from the start, and the universe was determined to restore the balance, no matter what Max did or how hard she tried.

And then there's Kate. This could go one of two ways depending on your choices, one of which is infinitely worse and more traumatizing, but either way it would definitely have haunted Max and left an impact on her.

Imagine how you would feel, knowing one of your closest friends was being bullied. Knowing they have been drunk/drugged and taken advantage of at a party. Yet instead of anyone coming forward, doing the right thing and helping Kate out of that situation, everyone at the party instead weaponized it, used it against her, slut-shamed her even though she wasn't in her right mind, was barely even conscious and was in no way able to consent to anything that was happening. Not that slut-shaming her would have in any way been okay or excusable even if Kate was acting of her own volition. Knowing that, even though you don't agree/don't identify with that, that your friend is deeply religious and clings to faith as a means of comfort. Knowing that she feels like a failure, that she feels like she's betrayed her faith, everything she stands for, and her family, even though she was in fact a victim in her situation. Being able to read letters, watching her family victim-blame her, hide behind their beliefs as a means to tear down someone they should feel obligated to protect, to support. Watching your friend be alienated by everyone around her, including her own family. Watching the school bullies write obscenities about your friend on the walls, and in the bathroom, make jabs at her and taunt her at every possible opportunity. Your friend's light has begun to dim, she starts pulling away from you, begins hiding away in her room more, which now feels like a dark, oppresive void. You know your friend is depressed, and you're trying to be supportive in any way you can, but there's a distance building between you you feel you can't bridge.

Then it happens. She kills herself/tries to kill herself. In front of you, and everyone who tormented her. Even then, the people who hurt her have no shame, laughing and recording her when she's in crisis. You begin to question and blame yourself, blaming youself for not noticing something was severely wrong earlier, not recognizing the impending signs for what they were. You want to help your friend, to save her, but your powers at failing you at the worst possible time. You only get one chance to do this, like everyone else, and you have to do it the right way.

If Max managed to talk Kate down, that's still an instense emotional weight, still a serious event to work through and process.

If Kate jumps…well…

Max feels like a failure. Like she contributed to Kate's death just as much as everyone else. Like she may as well have pushed Kate off that ledge herself. Not only watching your friend die in front of you, but knowing that it was self-inflicted in a moment of desperation, that they chose to do so and your words had no effect…

Now, the end of the game. Depending on what you choose, Max either has to to feel an immeasurable weight on her conscience, the responsibility for the destruction of the town where she was born. Where she grew up. Where she has countless memories, despite its' faults. The deaths of almost everyone there she's ever known.

Including (especially) Joyce.

The guilt of feeling like she took Chloe's mom away from her too, after Chloe had already lost her dad.

Oh. And that reminds me.

It was an incredible miracle, Max discovering her ability to go back through time via photos. Being able to go back 5 years, to when she and Chloe were only 13, before all the horror had happened, and save William. The sense of sheer relief, happiness and accomplishment she felt. She felt like a hero.

Only for it to all blow up in her face in the worst possible way.

Seeing Chloe, now a total shell of her former self. Completely disabled, and paralyzed. Helpless. Unable to live on her own. Seeing firsthand the emotional and financial stress William and Joyce are going through as a result of the accident. Chloe having so little quality of life that she pleads with Max to kill her, because she can't even do it herself.

(This is not my narrative or opinion on Chloe's situation, by the way. This is how it's portrayed. Quality of life, determining whether your life is worth living to due a life-changing accident or consequent disability is the choice of the invidual whom it effects. I'm not saying that anyone in Chloe's situation, who is paralyzed would inherently have no quality of life or no reason to live. That really depends on the invidiual, what that person needs in order to truly live and thrive, whether that person has family and friends and an emotional/practical support system in their life, etc. For Chloe, for me, and for many other people, though not all, living that kind of life would not be worth it.)

Max, depending on your choices, having to kill Chloe, to choose the merciful path, allow Chloe to exercise her autonomy in a world in which she can no longer do so and put her out of her misery. Knowing that she's doing for Chloe what she'd want someone to do for her if she were in that situation, yet still full of pain and regrets.

Max then having to go back and undo it all. Allow William to die again. Watch Chloe experience that horror and trauma again, knowing now she could've prevented it. But at what cost?

Lastly, if you chose to let Chloe go. To let her die.

That makes it immeasurably worse in my opinion.

The week she and Chloe spent together, reconnecting and rebulding their friendship, everything they went through together, would essentially never have happened.

Chloe, in this timeline, died alone in a bathroom. She never recieved any sort of closure, never got to know what happened to Rachel, questioning if Rachel perhaps just abandoned her, similarly to how Max did.

She never got to resolve things with Max, never heard from her again. She never got to know that Max still loved her, still cared about her and thought of her, but was too scared and guilty to reach out.

She never got to patch up things with her mom, or with David.

Everything Max went through. Everything she experienced.

To recap:

Having to watch her best friend, the woman she loves, die over and over again, feeling helpless, trapped in this endless, hellish cycle of death.

Being lulled into a false sense of security, betrayed and abducted by someone she thought she could trust, someone she looked up to.

Witnessing firsthand Kate's suicide/attempt, feeling like she failed her.

Being forced to let William die again, and force Joyce and Chloe to suffer that loss again.

Having to watch Joyce mourn her only daughter, after already losing her husband. Knowing she could've prevented it.

Everything that happened would still exist, but only in Max's mind.

She has no one she could ever confide in, talk to, or open up about it.

Chloe, for her, was that person.

No one would believe her, albeit understandably.

It's implied her powers vanish after she goes back that final time to let Chloe die.

She'd have no way to prove her story was true.

Carrying the weight of that burden, that knowledge and trauma, alone, would drive anyone insane.

Feeling like everything she went through, all the efforts she made to keep Chloe alive, were pointless.

I don't believe there is any way Max could be okay after that.

She'd be a hollow shell, just going through the motions. Totally disconnected from the world and the people around her. (Understandably. Who the hell could she connect to? Who would understand her?) Everyone at Blackwell, and their student lives and petty drama would feel so insignificant. So incredibly stupid and shallow to Max after what she's been through.

In fact, I've always felt - years after the events of the game, were you to choose to let Chloe die - that Max likely killed herself.

Over time, she probably began to question herself, to feel crazy, and begin wondering whether any of what happened, actually did, or if it was just something her mind created.

Max's trauma, her thoughts and emotions in regards to all of this are reflected in this part of the game, her mental breakdown. You can see her self-loathing, the way she blames and criticizes herself, in her interactions with herself and in her distorted journal entries.

Anyway. I never really liked Max all that much as a protagonist.

I thought she was a pushover, a little shallow, cared too much about what people like Victoria thought of her. I thought it was pretty unforgivable the way she ghosted Chloe, at the most traumatic, formative time of Chloe's life, when she had just lost the most important person in her life, besides Max. I understand anxiety, feeling awkward, helpless and flailing in that situation and not knowing what to say or do to make it better, but it just doesn't matter to me. Nothing excuses that.

However…

Max, did ultimately (well, depending on your choice at the ending,) make it right.

This has given me some perspective, and I have a lot more empathy for her now.

     you thought you could control everybody and everything, huh?      —   twist time around your fingers?

[neferaskingdom]

♡ So Kiss Me | OP81

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: McLaren's annual Christmas party means failed gingerbread houses and confessions in the snow.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

The McLaren Technology Centre was buzzing with excitement. Fresh off the high of their constructors’ championship win, the annual Christmas party was in full swing. The sprawling MTC was unrecognizable, decked out with garlands, fairy lights, and a massive Christmas tree standing proudly at the entrance. It was festive, loud, and decidedly not where Y/N wanted to be at the moment.

She leaned against a high-top table near the edge of the room, nursing her drink and watching the crowd. As a PR coordinator for McLaren, she’d spent months working tirelessly managing their socials and was supposed to be enjoying herself. Instead, she was contemplating the pros and cons of sneaking out early when a familiar voice cut through her thoughts.

“Y/N, you’re not entering the gingerbread contest?”

Caroline. The thorn in her side. Caroline worked in marketing and had perfected the art of weaponized politeness. Tonight, she was wearing a sparkly red dress and an infuriatingly smug expression.

“Nope,” Y/N said flatly, hoping the conversation would end there.

Caroline tilted her head, her smile sharpening. “Oh, I see. I guess some people just don’t have the creative touch for it.”

Y/N’s grip tightened on her glass. She didn’t care about the contest… except now she absolutely did. Caroline’s subtle digs always had a way of lighting a fire under her.

“Actually, I’ve decided I’m entering,” Y/N said, forcing a smile.

Caroline blinked in surprise, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, how fun! Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

As soon as Caroline walked away, Y/N’s bravado crumbled. What was she doing? She didn’t even have a teammate.

She scanned the room, hoping to spot someone who wasn’t already paired up or too deep into their drinks. No luck. Her usual work friends were either tipsy or engrossed in other activities. After a fruitless search, she retreated to a quieter corner of the room, sulking.

“Why do you look like someone stole your Christmas cookies?”

She looked up to see Oscar Piastri standing in front of her, hands in his pockets and a curious smile on his face. He looked effortlessly good in a suit, the tie slightly loosened around his neck.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, not wanting to admit her predicament.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, stepping closer. “Come on, Y/N. Spill.”

With a sigh, she relented. “Caroline made some snide comment about me not entering the gingerbread contest, so I decided to prove her wrong. But I don’t have a partner, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to embarrass myself.”

Oscar’s brows lifted in amusement. “That’s it? Easy fix. I’ll be your partner.”

Her eyes widened. “What? No way. You don’t have to do that. This is your party. You should be… I don’t know, celebrating.”

“I am celebrating,” he said with a grin. “And what better way to celebrate than helping you crush Caroline?”

She hesitated, but the sincerity in his eyes won her over. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m terrible at this stuff.”

“How bad could it be?”

Very bad, as it turned out.

“This wall won’t stay up!” Y/N groaned, holding a piece of gingerbread that stubbornly refused to stick to the icing.

“Maybe we didn’t use enough icing?” Oscar suggested, frowning at their rapidly deteriorating structure.

“I think the problem is that we’re bad at this,” she said, trying not to laugh.

“Speak for yourself,” he shot back, his smirk widening. “I’m an innovator. This is modern architecture.”

“If by ‘modern’ you mean it looks like it’s about to fall over, then yeah, you nailed it,” she shot back, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her grin.

They both burst out laughing as the roof caved in, sending a handful of gumdrops skittering across the table. Around them, other teams were building masterpieces: sleek houses with intricate frosting designs and perfectly placed candies. Meanwhile, theirs looked like it had survived an earthquake.

“This… this looks like something a five-year-old made blindfolded,” Y/N said, choking on laughter as she gestured at the crumbling mess. “It’s somehow defying gravity in all the wrong ways!”

Oscar wheezed, leaning on the table for support. “Hey, it’s abstract. We’re pushing the boundaries of what a gingerbread house can be.”

“Right, because ‘falling apart’ is such a bold statement,” she teased, wiping tears from her eyes.

They tried to salvage their creation, but every attempt made it worse. Oscar’s attempt at adding a candy cane chimney resulted in the entire roof collapsing again, while Y/N’s decorative icing turned into an unintentional Jackson Pollock painting.

“This is a disaster,” Y/N said, though she couldn’t stop laughing.

“The best kind of disaster,” Oscar said, his tone warm. “Seriously, who cares what it looks like? We’re having fun, right?”

Y/N looked at him, her laughter fading into a softer smile. “Yeah, we are. Thanks, Oscar. You’re a really good friend.”

His expression shifted slightly, like he wanted to say something more, but the moment was interrupted by Caroline sauntering past with her flawless gingerbread mansion.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s so cute that you’re trying. It’s all about having fun, right?”

Y/N forced a tight smile as Caroline walked away. “I hate her.”

“Hey,” Oscar said, nudging her gently. “Forget her. Look at what we made. It’s got… personality.”

Her smile returned, though it wavered slightly as she glanced at the crumbled mess of icing and gingerbread. “Personality is one way to put it.”

Noticing the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, Oscar leaned in, his voice lower and more earnest. “Hey, don’t let her get to you. She’s not worth it.”

Y/N gave a half-hearted shrug. “Easier said than done.”

Oscar studied her for a moment before straightening. “Come on. Let’s get out of here for a bit. Fresh air might help.”

The chill of the night air was sharp against Y/N’s cheeks as she and Oscar wandered the grounds of the McLaren Technology Centre. The party noise had faded into the background, leaving only the quiet sounds of leaves crunching beneath their shoes and the soft rustle of wind against the nearby trees. Y/N hugged her arms around herself, her thoughts drifting as she glanced over at Oscar. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze attentive.

Oscar broke the silence first, his voice warm and conversational. “You’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”

Y/N smiled faintly. “Just… everything. The party, the season, life. It’s been a crazy year.”

“Tell me about it.” He shot her a small grin. “But hey, at least we’ve survived.”

She laughed. “Barely. Some days I wasn’t sure I would. Between the endless PR work and trying to keep up with you drivers, it’s a miracle I’m still standing.”

“Oh, come on,” he teased. “You love it. Admit it.”

“I do,” she admitted, her tone softening. “It’s exhausting, but it’s worth it. Especially when I get to see moments like tonight. You guys deserve it, you know?”

Oscar’s smile turned bashful. “Thanks. It still feels a bit surreal. I keep thinking I’ll wake up tomorrow and it’ll all be a dream.”

“If it is, it’s a pretty damn good one,” she said.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation meandering from the highs and lows of the season to lighter topics. Y/N found herself laughing more than she had all night, her usual guardedness slipping away in his presence. It was easy to talk to Oscar, too easy, and she felt a familiar flutter in her chest every time he smiled at her.

Snow began to fall, light and gentle, dusting their hair and coats. Y/N’s eyes lit up as she stopped in her tracks, tilting her face upward. “It’s snowing!”

Oscar chuckled, watching as she spun in place, arms outstretched like a child. Her laughter rang out, clear and bright, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She was beautiful, her joy infectious, and for a moment, he forgot about the cold entirely.

“You’re going to freeze,” he called out, amusement lacing his tone.

“I don’t care!” she replied, still twirling. “Look at how perfect it is. It’s like something out of a Christmas movie.”

Her spinning slowed as she stumbled slightly, and Oscar stepped forward instinctively, steadying her with his hands on her arms. She looked up at him, her breath visible in the cold air, and suddenly the world seemed to shrink around them. The snow fell quietly, the moment suspended in time as their eyes met.

“You’re shivering,” he said softly. Without waiting for a reply, he slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. His hands lingered for a second, his touch warm against the cold fabric.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart raced as she stared at him, the closeness between them making her acutely aware of every small detail—the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his breath hitched slightly as their gazes locked.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of emotions. She’d always felt something for Oscar, but she’d buried it under layers of professionalism and self-doubt. Now, standing here with him, she couldn’t deny it any longer. She liked him. She more than liked him. And judging by the way he was looking at her, the feeling might just be mutual.

Before she could overthink it, Oscar leaned in. The kiss was sudden, catching her completely off guard, but she melted into it almost instantly. His lips were soft, warm against the chill of the night, and the world seemed to blur at the edges as her heart pounded in her chest.

When they broke apart, her breath came in shallow gasps. “Oscar…” she began, her voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, stepping back slightly. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” she interrupted, reaching out to grab his hand. “Don’t apologize. I… I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You have?”

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. I just didn’t think you…”

“Are you kidding?” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Y/N, I’ve liked you since the day we met. I just didn’t want to mess things up.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she felt a giddy rush of joy that made her want to laugh and cry all at once. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” she said, her tone playful.

“Yeah,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “But I’m your idiot, if you’ll have me that is.”

She didn’t reply with words. Instead, she pulled him into another kiss, this one deeper and more urgent. His hands found her waist as hers tangled in his hair, the world around them fading into insignificance. She pressed against him, her back meeting the rough bark of a nearby tree as their kisses grew more heated.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their faces flushed despite the cold. Oscar rested his forehead against hers, his hands still on her waist.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “do you want to head back to the party, or…?”

She hesitated, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “But this is your celebration party. Everyone’s here for you.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling. “I’d rather celebrate in a different way.”

She stared at him, half in shock and half in amusement, before bursting into laughter. “Oscar Piastri, I didn’t know you had game.”

He laughed with her, his hand slipping into hers. “Come on,” he said, tugging her gently toward the parking lot. “Let’s get out of here.”

As they walked away, hand in hand, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in quiet magic. For the first time that night, Y/N felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

[thedemoninme141]

The Maiden Of Death Part 2

Summary: You finally needed Wednesday for something and she learns some interesting things about you in exchange and yet she wants to know more.

Part 1

Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader. Wordcount: 5.8K-ish Warnings: Nothing Really? I guess roles reversed by Wednesday getting her feelings hurt just a tiny bit so a little angst?

The walk back from the bus station was a quiet one. Even Enid, who could usually fill any void with her endless chatter, seemed reluctant to speak. She kept glancing at you nervously, as though unsure whether to say something or not. Eugene walked close to her, shielding himself behind her as if you were radiating gamma rays.

You didn’t so much as glance back at the others, walking as if you were alone in the world.

Wednesday lagged behind slightly, her dark eyes fixed on you. Questions churned in her mind, but she knew that asking them outright would show her curiosity. And she would never, under any circumstances, let you know how deeply you intrigued her.

Still, the scene from earlier refused to leave her mind. The way you had dismantled those boys, it wasn’t just violence. It was precision, efficiency, calculated as if you had done this hundreds of times before.

But what stuck out the most was what she didn’t see. You hadn’t conjured any weapons. You hadn’t used whatever strange ability had allowed you to summon a parrying knife in the library.

Why?

The question burned at the edges of her thoughts. She tried to dismiss it at first, reasoning that it was none of her concern. But the more she tried to push it away, the more it consumed her. If you could summon a weapon in an instant, why bother with a bat and a chain? Why risk getting your hands dirty when you didn’t have to?

Without realizing it, she had quickened her pace and was now walking beside you. Your focus was still straight ahead as if you knew Wednesday is going to ask something.

The quiet stretched between you two, until Wednesday broke it.

“Why didn’t you just conjure a weapon?”

The question was direct, delivered with her usual bluntness.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t even glance her way.

Wednesday’s irritation flared. “It would have been faster. Cleaner. More effective.”

Still, you said nothing.

Enid and Eugene exchanged worried glances behind you. They really don't want to be caught between crossfire.

“Are you going to ignore me?” Wednesday pressed.

You finally stopped walking. Turning slightly, you met her gaze with a calmness that bordered on unsettling. For a moment, Wednesday thought you might ignore her again. But then, in a voice devoid of emotion, you said, “I can conjure weapons that I’ve… earned. Weapons that have accepted me. All of them are lethal.”

You didn’t elaborate. You didn’t explain. You simply turned and continued walking, leaving her standing there with more questions than answers.

Wednesday followed in silence, her mind racing. What did you mean by “earned”? And what exactly did a weapon have to do to “accept” someone?

She wanted to push further, to demand an explanation, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t hesitation, she told herself. It was strategy. She would learn the truth eventually, there was no need to rush.

But as she watched you walking ahead, your shoulders relaxed, your posture indifferent, Wednesday couldn’t shake the feeling that you were hiding something. Something deeper. Darker.

You were a puzzle, and Wednesday Addams would solve you.

No one exchanged a word until the four of you reached the main building. You walked away from the group without so much as a glance back. No goodbye, no acknowledgment of the people who had trailed after you all day.

Enid watched you go, a small frown tugging at her lips. “She could’ve at least said bye,” Enid sighed and nudged Wednesday. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m exhausted, and you’ve probably got some brooding to do or whatever.”

They walked in silence back to their shared dorm room. Enid occasionally glanced at Wednesday, her lips twitching as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

When they finally reached their room, Enid flopped onto her bed with a dramatic groan.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she said, stretching her arms above her head. “Y/N is just… wow. She’s like… you but not you. Does that make sense?”

Wednesday didn’t respond. She was already at her desk, pulling out a book and flipping it open. But despite her best efforts, the words on the page blurred together, her focus slipping.

“She’s so quiet,” Enid continued, propping herself up on her elbows. “Like, quieter than you, and I didn’t think that was possible."

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the edge of her book.

“Did you see how she looked at those guys? Like they were… I don’t know, bugs or something. And then wham! Down they went. I mean, I get it, they deserved it, but still.”

“She handled it,” Wednesday said finally, her voice flat.

Enid rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she handled it, but it was… intense. And you don’t think I didn’t notice you staring the whole time."

“I wasn’t staring,” Wednesday snapped, her tone defensive.

Enid smirked, sitting up fully now. “Oh, you were staring. I don’t blame you, though. She’s… interesting. In a creepy, mysterious way. I mean, you two could totally be related or something. Have you asked your parents if you lost a twin or something?"

Wednesday ignored her, her eyes fixed on the pages of her book, though she hadn’t absorbed a single word.

The truth was, Enid wasn’t entirely wrong. You were interesting, irritatingly so. You were like a distorted mirror image of her, similar in some ways but fundamentally different in others. The quiet, the detachment, the sharpness, it all felt too familiar and yet so different.

As the night wore on, Enid sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop, scrolling through social media and occasionally humming under her breath. Wednesday remained at her desk, engrossed in her book, though her thoughts strayed far from the text.

“Huh,” Enid said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What?” Wednesday asked without looking up.

“Of course Y/N doesn’t have anything social. Can’t find her anywhere.” Enid frowned at her screen, scrolling furiously. “No Instagram, no Snapchat. It’s like she doesn’t exist. Does she even have a phone?”

“Maybe she doesn't want to be a slave to modern technology either,” Wednesday said coolly, though the revelation piqued her interest. "And why are you so concerned with finding her online?”

“Why are you so concerned with finding her online?” “Because I wanted to write a blog post about her!!!” Enid said, her eyes wide with excitement. “And, don’t you want to know more about her? Where she’s from? Why she’s here? What her deal is?”

Of course Wednesday wanted to know. She just wasn’t about to admit that to Enid.

Instead, she closed her book with a deliberate snap and said, “If she wanted us to know, she would have told us.”

“Or maybe she’s waiting for someone to ask her,” Enid countered.

Wednesday didn’t reply. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to ask you. How she would ask you. The thought annoyed her. She wasn’t supposed to care about such things. And yet, here she was, her mind tangled up in questions about you, questions she didn’t know how to ask, questions she wasn’t even sure you’d answer.

The calculated knocks startled neither of them, it was gentle but deliberate, three slow raps against the wood. Enid glanced up first. “Uh, I'll go get it.”

She hopped up and padded to the door, opening it cautiously. Her eyes widened when she saw you standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of your black hoodie.

“Is Wednesday here?” you asked.

Enid blinked, clearly surprised, before nodding and stepping aside, opening the door wider. Wednesday finally turned in her seat, and there you stood… you didn’t step in.

Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed, reading your body language in an instant. You wanted to speak to her, but not here, not with Enid present. She closed her book before standing and as she passed Enid, she motioned with a small, firm gesture for her roommate to stay inside and close the door.

She stepped out into the hall, brushing past you with just enough space to show her own sense of control. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even seem fazed as Enid let out a defeated sigh and shut the door behind them.

The hall was empty, silent. You didn’t waste time. “There’s another library in Nevermore.” It wasn’t a question. “Where is it?”

The Nightshade Library. Hidden deep within Nevermore, its entrance disguised behind one of the worst puzzles she has ever solved, "Snap twice", Couldn't they make it a bit more challenging?

“Why do you think I would know where it is?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You tilted your head slightly, as if evaluating her. “Because if anyone knows, it’s you.”

The faintest flicker of satisfaction crossed Wednesday’s face. She liked being recognized for her intellect, especially by you.... wait what?

“And if I did know?” she countered. “Why would I share that information with you?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you leaned against the wall, your dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her feel, for the first time in a long while, as if someone were looking through her rather than at her.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, your voice low and measured.

Wednesday hesitated. She could deny her curiosity, feign disinterest, but she knew you would see through it. So she decided on honesty, or at least a version of it.

“I’ve solved enough mysteries to recognize one when I see it,” she said, her tone steady. “And you, Y/n, are a mystery. You’re here for something. At first, I suspected it was something sinister, but…” Her lips twitched ever so slightly, not quite a smile. “Your actions at the shop earlier today disproved that theory. Not that I’m impressed or anything.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to Wednesday’s surprise, your lips curved into a faint smirk.

“One good deed doesn’t fix a thousand sins, Wednesday,” you said.

It was the first time she had seen you smirk, and something about it unsettled her. It wasn’t the smirk itself, it was the fact that it felt… earned. As if it was meant for her and her alone.

And it lingered only for a sceond before fading.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said. “I’ll tell you about me. Not everything, but enough to satisfy your curiosity. How much depends on how much you help me get what I need.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together, her mind working rapidly to process your words. This was a gamble, a game of secrets and trust or lack thereof. And yet, she found herself intrigued.

“Very well,” she said finally. “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll be satisfied with scraps. If I’m helping you, I’ll expect substance, not crumbs.”

You didn’t respond, but something in your gaze shifted, a silent acknowledgment of her terms. Without another word, you turned and began walking down the hall.

Wednesday followed, her steps light and deliberate, her mind churning with questions. What were you looking for in the Nightshade Library? Why were you so guarded? And why... why did she feel something seeing your smirk?

The statue of Edgar Allan Poe was just ahead as the two of you stopped.

Wednesday stepped forward, she glanced at you, her dark eyes daring you to comment. You remained expressionless, giving her nothing, as always.

She snapped her fingers twice.

The faint clicking of mechanisms echoed, and the statue shifted. Its heavy base slid back, revealing a dark staircase spiraling downward.

Neither of you spoke as you made your way down the stairs.

Once at the center of the library, Wednesday turned to face you. “What are you looking for?”

“That’s not part of the deal.” You said as your eyes were scanning the shelves, skipping over rows of books as though you instinctively knew what you sought. She internally sighed for even offering to help.

It didn’t take long. Your gaze landed on a dusty, leather-bound tome nestled deep in the recesses of a high shelf. The book was thick and worn, and it was tightly bound by some sort of green metallic wires. It was dusty, untouched for ages like most of the books here.

As you reached for it, Wednesday approached, her curiosity clearly piqued. She peered over your shoulder as you pulled the book free, revealing its cracked and worn leather cover etched with strange, arcane symbols. You carried it to a nearby table and set it down carefully, your fingers brushing away the layers of dust.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Before you could answer or more likely refuse to answer, a faint sound from behind you drew your attention.

Without hesitation, you conjured a katana in one fluid motion. You spun on your heel, the blade slicing through the air, and lunged.

The blade sang through the air as you moved with precision, grabbing the intruder and shoving him against the bookshelves. Xavier’s mask clattered to the ground as he struggled against your grip, your blade pressed firmly against his throat.

“Wait, wait, wait! Stop! Whoa! Whoa!” Xavier stammered, his wide eyes darting between the blade and your impassive face.

Wednesday smirked, crossing her arms as she observed the scene. “You shouldn’t have stopped,” she mocked dryly. “Xavier could use an upgrade. He might finally get the touch he needs so much! Getting rid of his face.”

Xavier shot her a panicked glance. “Not helping, Wednesday!”

One by one, they all came out, the members of nightshade society—Bianca, Ajax, Yoko, Kent and Divina.

“You can’t just bring whoever you want down here,” Bianca snapped. “This place is supposed to be a secret.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, her smirk deepening. “Clearly, it’s not much of a secret if you’re the ones guarding it.”

Bianca shot her a warning look before turning her gaze to you. “You don’t belong here,” Bianca said, her voice cold. “And in case you didn’t know, Ajax can stone you, and Yoko is faster than you’ll ever be. So I’d think twice before trying anything.”

You didn’t even flinch. Instead, you tilted your head slightly and replied in an even, calm tone, “Do you want to try?”

The group exchanged uncertain glances. Wednesday noted the faint flicker of fear in their eyes, a reaction she found... satisfying.

Yoko stepped forward, chuckling softly. “I’m not faster than you. Don’t mind Bianca; she’s still feisty from getting beaten by you in fencing.” She shot a playful look at Bianca, who scowled in response. Yoko’s grin awkwardly widened as she pulled Bianca back, making way for you.

“By the way,” Yoko added, glancing at Xavier, who was still pinned to the bookshelf, “can I make a tiny request? Not really important, but maybe let go of him before he has a heart attack?”

Your gaze shifted to Xavier, the look in your eyes promising, If you try that again, I won’t stop my sword next time. Slowly, you pulled the blade back as it vanished into the air as you unconjured it.

Without sparing another glance at the group, you reached for the book, tucking it under your arm as you turned to leave.

Wednesday followed, pausing only to glance over her shoulder at the stunned group. “I’d say it was nice catching up, but I’d be lying.”

You didn’t speak as Wednesday walked behind you. She didn’t expect you to. But the weight of unanswered questions was pressing on her. Finally, she broke it.

“What’s in the book?” she asked,

“Information,” you replied simply.

She frowned slightly, pressing further. “Information about what?”

“Not me.”

The two words were curt, but their meaning was clear. Wednesday’s mind immediately clicked back to the terms of your deal. She had taken you to the Nightshade Library, and in return, you had promised to answer her questions about yourself. But this book wasn’t part of that exchange. It was something else entirely.

“Fine,” Wednesday said “Now it’s my part of the deal. I ask you questions about yourself, and you answer truthfully. Do not attempt to lie. I can tell the difference.”

Finally, you stopped and turned. There was something unreadable in your expression—calm, detached, as always, but then it shifted. Slowly, deliberately, your lips curled into the faintest smirk. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Wednesday caught it.

That smirk.

She hadn’t seen any emotion on your face Enid had tried to engage you, when the Nightshade Society had surrounded you with suspicion and hostility. She had only seen it when it was only you and her, it was there, just for her.

It was... unsettling.

Before Wednesday could dwell on it, your voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Ask your questions and be done with it.”

Wednesday’s fingers twitched behind her back as her mind raced through the countless questions she wanted to ask. But she knew she had to start somewhere.

“Why are you really here?”

You raised an eyebrow.

"What did you do at your last school to get transferred here, or did you come willingly?” she elaborated.

“I came willingly,” you said without hesitation, your voice calm, as if the answer was obvious.

“Why?” she pressed.

“I had work.”

“Work?”

“Demon hunting.”

It was so matter-of-fact, so devoid of emotion, that Wednesday was momentarily speechless. She blinked, half-expecting that smirk to return, telling her it was sarcasm. But you didn’t. Your face remained neutral, your posture relaxed yet guarded, as if you had just told her something as mundane as the weather forecast.

“What… what does that mean?” she asked, her voice quieter but no less intense.

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” you said evenly. “I get hired to hunt demons. My father trained me.”

The words landed with an almost tangible weight. Wednesday prided herself on her composure, but even she found it difficult to mask the intrigue and unease bubbling inside her.

Her mind raced. Demon hunting? It sounded absurdly dangerous, but the calmness with which you spoke of it suggested otherwise. Still, she found herself grappling with the idea of someone her age taking on such a task.

“How old are you?” she blurted before she could stop herself. She instantly hated how curious she sounded, but the question lingered nonetheless.

You rolled your eyes, the closest thing to irritation she’d seen from you. “I age normally. I’m your age.”

It was such a simple answer, but it left her with more questions than before. Why would someone your age be hunting demons? Why would your father send you to Nevermore now? And more importantly, why did you move through the world with such deadly precision, like you were always preparing for the next fight?

“Why do you hunt demons?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, you simply looked at her, your expression unreadable. Then, finally, you said, “I think the questions you’ve asked are enough payment for your assistance.”

It wasn’t a refusal, but it was a wall, just like the one's she has built around herself. You weren’t going to answer. Not now. And yet, the way you avoided the question only made her more determined to uncover the truth. Wednesday wasn’t used to being denied, and she found the challenge you presented both infuriating and... intriguing.

She followed you silently as you began walking again, her gaze flicking to the book in your hands.

“Demons,” she finally said, her voice slicing through the quiet. “What are they exactly? Giant monsters? Beasts with claws and fangs? Creatures of folktales?”

You didn’t answer as if her words had evaporated into the night air.

The lack of response was infuriating and Wednesday wasn’t even surprised. She had expected resistance. Still, she persisted. “You claim to hunt them. Surely you can describe what it is you face. Or do you find it amusing to leave me in ignorance?”

Again, you didn’t respond, and Wednesday’s jaw tightened. Her dark eyes flicked to the book you held, its worn cover and metallic bindings catching the faint light. Now the book intrigued her just as much as you did.

Her mind raced with possibilities. She couldn’t simply take the book from you; you would sense her intent before she could act.

Dispatching Thing to steal it was out of the question as well. She could already envision the outcome: you sensing Thing’s presence, catching him mid-act, and possibly doing something drastic. The way you had nearly sliced Xavier’s throat in the blink of an eye without any hesitation just for sneaking up on you... No, she couldn’t risk Thing. She would need another way to learn more.

Her voice cut through the silence again. “Your swordsmanship, was that something your father taught you?”

This time, you slowed your steps, just enough for her to notice. For a fleeting moment, something flickered in your eyes, an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“No,” you said simply. “I figured that out.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together in disbelief. “You figured that out?” she repeated, her tone laced with skepticism. “No one simply ‘figures out’ swordsmanship. It takes years of training, discipline—”

You interrupted her “I figured it out,” you repeated, leaving no room for argument.

Frustration simmered beneath Wednesday’s composed exterior. Your cryptic responses were as infuriating as they were intriguing. She couldn’t fathom how someone could master a skill like that without instruction. But then, nothing about you followed conventional logic.

The two of you reached the steps to Ophelia Hall, for a moment, it seemed the conversation was over, but Wednesday’s curiosity refused to let her remain silent.

When the hallway to her dorm came into view, her frustration boiled into something she rarely allowed herself to feel: desperation. You had what you wanted now. There was no more reason for you to seek her out, no leverage she could use to force you into another exchange.

This was it.

For the first time, Wednesday Addams felt the sting of helplessness. And she hated it.

As you turned to leave, something in her snapped. “Wait.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “What?”

Her mind scrambled for something, anything to keep the conversation from ending. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“The way you beat me,” she clarified, her tone sharpening as if to mask the vulnerability behind her request. “During our last fencing match.”

You turned fully now, facing her.

She continued, her voice cool and measured. “I know how to handle a rapier. I’ve studied various forms of swordsmanship. But the technique you used—it's unlike anything I’ve seen. It could prove… useful.”

“Useful?” you repeated, your tone neutral but tinged with curiosity

Wednesday hesitated for a fraction of a second, but she quickly masked it coming up with something. “Yes. I’ve been meaning to put Bianca in her place again. Your technique might be just the thing to humiliate her properly.”

“And what makes you think I’d teach you?”

She rolled her eyes as her tone sharpened. “It’s not a matter of ‘teaching.’ You wouldn’t need to explain. I can observe. All I need is for you to demonstrate. You seem to enjoy a challenge. Consider this one.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying her. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and Wednesday felt her irritation flare. That expression again. She hated how it made her feel—off-balance, as though you were the one dissecting her.

“I’ll think about it,” you said at last.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now,” you replied.

You turned without another word, continuing down the hall toward your dorm. Wednesday remained rooted to the spot. Her thoughts spiraled, replaying every word, every glance, every flicker of emotion you had allowed her... only her to see.

She had what she wanted, another thread to pull, another opportunity to uncover more about you. But even as she told herself it was all for the sake of satisfying her curiosity, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered otherwise.

She ignored it. Or at least, she tried to.

When Wednesday stepped into her room, Enid bolted upright in her bed,

“Wednesday! Oh my god, you’re finally back!” Enid whisper-yelled, her voice a mix of relief and exasperation. She clutched her phone like it was her emotional support animal.

“I was so scared you were out there doing something... you know... Wednesday-ish. And with Y/N? Are you kidding me? I thought for sure I was gonna get a text saying you’d been arrested. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” Wednesday finally replied, “that I do not require your approval or your concern.”

Enid huffed, crossing her arms over her pink top, “Well, someone has to worry about you because you clearly don’t!” She paused, “Anyway... how was the date?”

Wednesday froze mid-step as she turned to face Enid. “Excuse me?”

“The date,” Enid said, emphasizing the word with a mischievous grin. “You know, you and Y/N, sneaking off together into the night, exchanging cryptic looks and intense vibes. Classic romance. Sooo... how did it go?”

Wednesday glared at her, the look sharp enough to cut glass. “It wasn’t a date, Enid. It was an interrogation. One that, I might add, yielded frustratingly little information.”

Enid flopped back onto her bed dramatically, groaning. “Ugh, you’re no fun. How can it not be a date? I mean, the two of you are so...” She gestured vaguely, her hands mimicking some kind of explosion. “...tension-y.”

“Tension-y is not a word,” Wednesday deadpanned, moving toward her wardrobe to retrieve her nightclothes. She disappeared behind the changing screen, her voice carrying through. “And whatever you imagine my interactions with Y/N to be, I assure you, they are nothing of the sort. It was just an exchange of information, nothing more.”

“You’re no fun. Fine, it wasn’t a date. But you can’t deny there’s something going on between you two. Totally intense. And you-”

“Enough, Enid,” Wednesday cut her off, climbing into bed. “If you insist on fantasizing about my personal life, at least do so silently. I require rest.”

Enid rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine, fine. Goodnight, Wens. Sweet dreams of a certain someone.”

Wednesday groaned internally as she closed her eyes, letting the darkness of sleep swallow her. But even as her mind began to drift, she couldn’t help but replay your last words to her: “I’ll think about it.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked over the students passing by. You should be here, she thought, where are you?

“You’re weirdly quiet this morning,” Enid noted, glancing at Wednesday as they approached their table with breakfast “Not that you’re usually a chatterbox, but still.”

“I was reflecting on the peaceful silence I enjoyed before you began speaking,” Wednesday replied dryly.

Enid rolled her eyes but let it slide. The two of them sat down, Enid immediately reaching for the stack of waffles in front of her.

“So,” Enid began between bites " I was thinking-"

"Truly a groundbreaking moment in history." Wednesday muttered.

“Ha ha,” Enid said sarcastically. “As I was saying, the Poe Cup is coming up, and we need to form a team.”

Wednesday sipped her coffee, unimpressed. “You mean, you need to form a team. I’m not interested.”

“Oh, come on!” Enid said, pouting. “Last year was so much fun, and we actually won! Don’t you want to keep the streak alive?”

“No.”

“Please? Pretty please?” Enid got out her puppy eyes.

Wednesday sighed, setting her cup down with more force than necessary. “Why don’t you find someone else? I have better things to do.”

“Well,” Enid said, fidgeting with her fork, “that’s the thing. One of the girls on our team transferred out after all the drama last year. So... we’re already down a person even if you join.”

“Tragic,” Wednesday said dryly.

"And everyone seems too afraid to participate, no one seems to come up... So I was actually thinking about asking Y/N to join too.”

Wednesday froze. Slowly, she turned to face Enid, her eyes narrowing. “You were planning to ask her?”

“Yeah,” Enid said brightly, oblivious to Wednesday’s sudden tension. “I mean, if she says yes, you and her in the same team? We will have the most unstoppable team in Nevermore history. And if she says no... well, I’ll just have to work extra hard to convince her.”

Wednesday didn’t respond, her mind preoccupied with conflicting thoughts. On the one hand, she had no desire to participate in another Poe Cup. On the other, the idea of you aligning with Enid’s cheerful chaos—and possibly bonding with her—left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Finally, Enid broke the silence. “So? Are you in?”

She let out a tired sigh. “Fine. I’ll join your team. But only because your incessant whining is insufferable.”

Enid beamed, clapping her hands together. “Yes! You won’t regret it, Wens. We’re going to crush everyone. And when Y/N joins, it’ll be game over for the competition.”

Wednesday didn’t share Enid’s enthusiasm, but she couldn’t deny a flicker of curiosity. If you agreed to join the team, it would be yet another opportunity to observe you up close, to understand what makes you- you.

“Ready to lose, Addams?” Bianca asked, adjusting her grip.

“I don’t lose. I simply assess flaws in my opponents’ technique until they defeat themselves.”  Wednesday replied, stepping into position.

Strike, parry, lunge—her movements were precise, calculated, and relentless. But even as she focused on the match, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Where are you?

You weren't at breakfast, You hadn’t appeared for fencing class. She told herself it was curiosity, maybe her need for a rematch, nothing more. But the faint pang of disappointment at not seeing you was a feeling she couldn’t entirely suppress.

Bianca’s blade grazed Wednesday’s shoulder, snapping her attention back to the match.

“Distracted today, Addams?” Bianca taunted, taking the advantage to press forward.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. She wouldn’t allow anyone, least of all Bianca, to expose a moment of weakness. With a swift disengage and a perfectly timed riposte, she scored a touch on Bianca’s chest, earning a point.

“Hardly,” Wednesday replied, her voice icy.

The match ended in her victory, as expected, but it felt hollow. Even as she returned her rapier to its rack and packed away her gear, her mind kept circling back to you.

Alchemy class had started precisely ten minutes ago. Wednesday sat at her station, her notebook open and pen poised, ready to absorb whatever instruction was given. Despite her usual attentiveness, her gaze kept flicking to the door.

It wasn’t until the teacher began explaining the chemical interactions of reagents in transmutation circles then you finally entered.

You walked in as if you owned the room. No apology, no explanation. Your footsteps were measured, calm, as though arriving late was entirely intentional. The other students turned to look, whispering to one another, but you ignored them all. And took the empty seat beside Wednesday.

She waited for you to offer some explanation, but none came.

Finally, she leaned slightly toward you, her voice low enough not to attract attention. “Where were you?”

Without even looking at her, you replied, “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

The curt dismissal sent a flicker of irritation through her. She narrowed her eyes, studying your profile.

“Interesting,” Wednesday said, her tone flat but with a razor’s edge. “Your penchant for evasion is almost as impressive as your talent for making enemies.”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of my every move. Should I start providing hourly updates?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it weren’t relevant,” Wednesday countered.

"I fail to see how my schedule has any bearing on your life.” you replied, turning your attention to the potion ingredients laid out in front of you.

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around her pen.

After last night, she had thought they had... progressed, in some way. Not to friendship, she didn’t entertain such trivialities, but to something more than this cold indifference.

Evidently, she was wrong.

She turned her attention back to the professor, though her thoughts remained stubbornly fixed on you.

When class ended, Wednesday packed her things with more force than necessary. You, as usual, seemed unbothered, moving at your own unhurried pace.

She considered leaving without a word, but the thought of you dismissing her again was unbearable.

As the two of you exited the classroom, she matched your stride.

She didn’t speak immediately, her mind grappling with the questions swirling in her head.

Finally, she broke the silence. “About last night.”

“What about it?” you asked, not looking at her.

“I thought we had reached some… understanding,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.

You finally turned to look at her, your eyes sharp and unyielding. “I told you what I’d tell you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her jaw tightened. “And the demonstration you promised?”

“I didn’t promise anything,” you said evenly. “I said I’d think about it.”

“And?” she pressed.

“I haven’t had time to think about it,” you replied, your tone dismissive.

“You seemed to have plenty of time last night.” she said.

Your lips quirked slightly, not quite a smirk but close. “You think too highly of yourself if you believe I’ve spent the entire night pondering your request. And now that I do think about it, I don’t see why it matters. You’re not worth wasting my time.”

The words struck Wednesday harder than she expected. She kept her face impassive, but inside, a strange, unfamiliar ache bloomed. Her jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. She hated the way her chest ached, hated the vulnerability that threatened to surface.

But she would never let you see it.

“I see,” Wednesday said finally, her voice icy. “Then perhaps I shouldn’t waste any more of your valuable time.” Without waiting for a response, she quickened her pace, leaving you behind. Behind her, your steps slowed, and she resisted the urge to look back.

Botany class passed in a blur for Wednesday. The usually calming task of handling deadly poisonous plants gave no solace. Her mind churned with your words, replaying them over and over. She hated how much they stung, hated the power you seemed to wield over her thoughts.

And yet, when class ended, you approached her.

“Meet me behind the greenhouse,” you said, your voice low and deliberate. “After the sun falls.”

Before she could respond, you turned and walked away. She hated how you left her with more questions than answers. But despite herself, she knew she would meet you.

[A/n: Tried another new route, in most fics I see that it is the reader character who earns Wednesday's smile, so I thought I should reverse the roles a bit, how did you guys like this one?]

Taglist: @rqizzu

[doja365]

Crybaby(Chapter 1)

Dollhouse Masterlist TW- Neglect

Escape

That's all I could think about.

Escaping

Running, killing, hiding. Nothing would fill the void that was made only for me.

Killing is what I did most, well luckily since Talia Al Ghul was my trainer.

She took me in when I was on the run from my own family. She was cruel but sweet sometimes. She made me forget everything I left the Waynes for.

I had all the training I needed. I learned Jiu jitsu, Aikido, everything!

I was trained to be one thing

A murderer.

I still had school but when I talk to other kids they get scared of me. Why?

I enjoyed all kinds of art. Drawing, painting, movies, novels, and you know where I'm getting at. The kids looked at me like I was crazy, did I do something to them? Momma T, always adored what I did, it always seemed, normal.

I get the nice family I've been asking for instead of dealing with a rich man-whore as a father and possible drug-dealers as brothers. Damian always hit me for being a bitch and I don't know why. I mean I know his mother must've died and is stuck with a dick-head like Wayne but why deflect on me?

People know I'm different but I do the things girls do, I paint, I dance, I play instruments, and I know how to sing. I'm not that different from them.

But soon I understood, I learned to kill, hack, and steal. I learned all the horrendous things that was actually able to keep me alive. And for that I am thankful. I can even speak 8 languages for the sake of preventing exposure.

I am now Eurus Pirate Al Ghul the now concierge of crime.

I'm now a legal adult that makes her own decisions on the highest bidder for my next target.

5 years ago...

BANG!

"Did I get it?" I asked.

"Yes, sweetheart, you are becoming smarter now. I want you to come with me." Grandpa Ghul replied.

My challenge was to practice the art of stealth and elimination of opponents. I had to wear a tight uncomfortable black suit for the purpose of camouflage.

We arrived at a foyer and I saw mom nearby so I ran to her.

"Momma!" I ran straight to her and hugged her.

"Hey Pirate, I need you to do something and it's important for all of us." She said as she knelt down to me giving me a katana.

I would do everything for them, they saved me. But I never really knew it.

"Eurus, when you came here you looked like your father. Driven by rage and sadness, now it has brought our paths to cross." He said.

I smiled gladly, acknowledging his words and veneering gratitude. But I still didn't understand why I was here.

"But, I still need to test your commitment to justice. Don't be as gullible as your father, Bruce Wayne, young one."

A guard nearby dragged a shirtless man who was actually a thief. And Grandpa gave me the katana.

"Grandpa you're wrong about one thing."

"What?"

"Bruce Wayne's not my father."

SLASH!

"It's good to see someone make the right choice. Now someone clean this mess up."

"You've shown that you're dedicated to serving justice. Now you shall receive your title."

"What is it?"

"Artemis"

"As a reward, with no Ego, I can assure you, this is the finest sword"

The last memory I held onto for the days to come

Present...

I was drinking some scotch whilst smoking, and I waited for my next assignment. I was able to graduate as an archaeologists because I get good money on the side, and it's easier with the whole assassin thing.

RING!

"What is it Tank?" I asked. Each one of us calls each other by nicknames in order to prevent prying eyes. The only time we address each other by our real name is when we are at the penthouse.

"We got one for ya Artie."

"Let this be a bit harder, alright sweetheart I don't want my target to be a 50 year old hormonal man with only Mickey Mouse as his guard."

I swear that sounded a lot better in my head.

"Relax Artemis, this one's gonna be good I promise."

"Where's the target?"

"Gotham."

"You better not be fucking with me T."

"Check your front door."

I opened the door and saw a big box. It contained the file with some weapons and a 'welcome home gift'. Gosh he can be such a bitch most of the time. I read the file and I wish I could unsee it.

"I know you'd like this Artie"

File:

Name: Jason Todd Alias: Red Hood Kill Count: 83 Status: Alive Price: $500,000 Location: Gotham Brought To: Joker

WANTED

"Artie, ARTEMIS! You there?"

"I could've taken it for one dollar, he's not worth this much."

"Great just give me the $499,999 and I'll split it with the rest Artie."

"Fuck you."

"I'd rather have you do that sweetheart."

"In your dreams, prepare a delivery for Jason's head to the Joker. I may be the concierge but it doesn't mean I won't kill with my bare hands. Prepare the artillery and get me a dilapidated house to prevent the media. Let's tear that bitch apart."

Taglist:

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e,@horror-lover-69

[mr-t-rieper]

Breaking character to point out the dangerous actions being made by the wealthy.

If you love the Hitman series as I do, you know that the people that have the wealth and power are the exact people that Diana and 47 went after.

Diana used her position to accept contracts on people she saw were bad for the world.

47 chose to accept Diana as his handler, and it is shown in his interactions with Grey that he knew what she wanted and supported it.

He wasn’t just a weapon.

He was someone who agreed that the world was corrupt and was willing to do the actions Diana could not for HER goals because her goals were his goals.

Please, as with the Genocide in Palestine, remember who the bad guys are. Remember who makes us fight each other. Remember who 47 and Diana wanted to save us from.

[thewitchblue]

"I told you not to touch that."

You had warned a very curious Tim repeatedly. This one wasn't anything harmful. You simply didn't want him touching your potions. It was a very annoying potion to make.

You had left it boiling on a burner while you got a snack, but Tim shut off the burner to touch your half-baked potion. You had no idea how long he's had it off the burner, but it wasn't boiling anymore.

"What does it do?"

He didn't have the guts to do anything but hold the boiling hot beaker. At least, not in front of you. He felt like he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"It was SUPPOSED to be a present for Jason, jackass. Now it's ruined."

You aggressively took the breaker from Tim and borderline slammed it down on your windowsill. You stormed over to your burner and turned it on again. Maybe you can salvage it. It had stopped boiling because Tim was too curious for his own good.

"Oh."

Tim looked embarrassed. You didn't bother to tell him it was liquid weed, so Jason could stop stinking up the manor when he smokes.

You were sick of getting accidentally drugged because Jason left brownies out without a "do not eat" sign. You think Jason secretly likes drugging people, but there was an unspoken agreement: shut up and leave the drugged person alone.

You were hoping this potion would get him to go to you instead of some shady drug dealer, but Tim doesn't need to know any of this. This is between you and Jason.

"Do me a favour and never touch my stuff. My next potion won't be so friendly."

You grumbled. You were the family witch. Yes, the stereotypical potions and general magic. You learned from Constantine and Zatanna how to use spells, but potions are where you shine.

You are called The Alchemist at night and are feared mainly due to how prepared you are. You had a potion for anything and everything.

The villains actively avoid you as a result of your preparation. You're seriously more prepared and paranoid than Batman in a lot of cases.

Scarecrow is the only one salty enough to go after you. He wanted you as an apprentice, but he's not getting anywhere by kidnapping you on the occasion. Come on, just give him one potion that he can replicate if he can't have you on his side!

Joker found you boring, Bane doesn't want to tango when you take away his muscles with a potion, Ra cares more about physical combat, and the list goes on. It's ridiculous, truly.

You were actually quite close to Poison Ivy, however, and she supplies you with various plants for you to use. You even send her photos to update her on how the plant is blooming with a thank you text (yes, you have her number, score!)

Being a Wayne helps with the potions as well. You can get you an endless supply of various metals, chemicals, and powders to work with alongside the plants. You often question if you are on a government list somewhere. It doesn't look good to order 15 kilograms of gunpowder and potassium nitrate.

The family doesn't know any of this, but then again, they don't know much about what you do. They rarely ask questions about your potions except nosy Tim, who refuses to leave your room until he knows more about whatever potion you are making at the time.

"I was curious!"

He tried to defend himself, which failed as you retorted,

"And you could have had your finger dissolved if you touched it! For the brains of the family, you really are stupid."

Does he have no sense of self-preservation? Why on earth would he touch a mysterious liquid? Survival of the fittest indeed.

Tim scoffed. How else is he supposed to find out more information if he knows nothing about the process? You had all your potions memorised! No recipe book, no paper trail, you even have a witch/magic users pack between Zatanna and Constantine, so they won't tell the family anything. He can't even identify all the plants you use so he could test them.

"You're lucky I make weapons for you guys. Some of this stuff takes weeks! I have 9 of you guys running around, using MY supply because you guys don't use your potions wisely. What if I needed the paralysing potion for Bane, but uh-oh, you stole it from me, so I can't do anything."

Tim had no excuse. He's, admittedly, stolen more than a handful of potions to reload his weapons, and he's not the only one. He tried to smooth over your irritation. In a nervous tone, he said,

"I'm sorry. I would be surprised if you didn't notice the missing potions, though."

Damn right, you'd notice it. What kind of alchemist would you be if you didn't notice your missing stash and resupply? Granted, you also have the power of bullshit spells that you learned from John and Zatanna, so you aren't entirely helpless, but it's annoying reaching for an imaginary potion on patrol and needing to trudge all the way home just to restock.

"I think you need to keep your hands to yourself. I might have to redo this potion now. Please tell me you didn't touch the potion itself."

You wouldn't know how to handle a high Tim Drake. You tried to keep your eyes on him while putting your potion back on the burner. Is the weed in his bloodstream, or are you safe to continue your drug cooking?

He gave an awkward smile. He may or may not have smelled the potion. It smelled like a freshly mowed lawn, and the tiny sip he took tasted like an apple. When all you got was silence, you groaned and said in disbelief,

"Oh, fuck, of course you did."

Just your luck. The drug will hit Tim any second now. You ran a stressed hand through your hair before turning to him and saying sternly,

"You are going to sleep on my bed and let the potion run its course. Do. Not. Leave. This. Room. Got it?"

Tim looked confused, but what does he know about magical potions? If you say let it work through him, he'll follow instructions. He sat on your bed and then it hit him.

"Woah, what the hell did you do to me? Were you trying to lace Jason with something?"

You frowned and physically pushed him onto the bed. You quickly swaddled him like a baby in a sea of blankets.

He can not leave this room. Bruce would murder you. You were supposed to be the good one. The only one who caused no problems (to their knowledge).

"Tim, look at me."

Tim did not, in fact, look at you. He was distracted by all the plants you have in your room. Did someone drop off more plants in the time he's last been in here?

"Did you get more plants?"

You huffed. You didn't. They have only grown since he's been snooping in your room. You tried to get his attention by snapping your fingers and calling his name,

"Tim?"

When he continued to look around with rapidly reddening eyes, you squished his face in your hand and forcefully pushed his face until it faced you.

"Tim, you are going to sleep. I'm going to play some music for you and we are going to forget all about this when you feel better."

You can make a potion to erase recent memories. Tim can't know you are making drugs in your room. Nobody can know except Jason.

You decided to turn on some calming music in hopes he would drift off, which seemed to be working as his eyes drooped, and he smiled at you like he knew something you didn't. He was lost in his thoughts, clearly.

You wondered what was going on in that big brain of his. It didn't matter. He can blaze in blissful peace while you deal with his mess.

You kept the music quiet and soft like he was at a spa. You hoped the combined warmth of the blankets with the soft music would work faster.

With a sigh, you stood up from your position at his bedside. This is not good. Tim needs to learn when to leave your stuff alone. What if you boiled his blood or poisoned him? It's best to leave the witchcraft to the witch.

You watched him like a hawk. His thoughts seemed to be slowed and sluggish. You supposed you can bottle your potion after all. Should you put a dropper on it? Normally, your potions soak through the skin and clothes, but you were extremely careful with this one.

You gave his forehead a small kiss once he fell asleep. You went to your bottles while shaking your head in disapproval. You were very happy with the results of the potion, not so much with the tester. You would hate to think about what could have happened if you didn't swaddle him. Would he be walking around high and babbling about funny potions? Probably. He was already hallucinating pleasantly by the time he passed out.

You were so lucky that Tim didn't get the potentially dangerous symptoms. You can handle a mellowed out Tim, but not if he was going through psychosis.

After successfully bottling and hiding the potion, you pulled out one of your memory potions.

You felt bad drugging him then making him forget about it, but you can't have him telling anybody, whether accidentally or purposefully.

You know you could just tell Bruce that Tim touched a memory potion on your burner, and he'd believe you, but why draw in the eyes of Batman? He would want to know about all future potion making.

You frowned as you put one drop on his forehead and watched it sink in. He won't remember any of this.

You were a bit overprepared, but you were Batman and Constantine trained. Of course you'd have some weaselly way out of accidentally drugging someone.

Oh, John would be so proud of you.

[sapphiresaphics]

Gonna re-post this here as its own separate post for those who want to understand what the Black Rose arc was about.

———

Ambessa discovered the Black Rose, a group of Noxian mages that go against the beleifs of Noxian culture to keep people in check. The Black Rose act as a sort of secret society that controls Noxian culture from the inside. Making sure that nobody ever rises too high in their eyes.

Ambessa doesn't like the idea of someone telling her she can't do something, so she has an illegitimate child with a mage. That child is Mel and Mel inherits magic powers as a result. The idea being that Mel could eventually be used to fight the Black Rose.

As the Black Rose start to suspect something is up, Mel is sent off to live in Piltover. Hidden away from them.

Mel, thinking she's been banished or abandoned by her mother, strives to put Piltover on the map by manipulating the counsel and working towards bettering Piltover's technological progress.

Meanwhile, Mel's brother starts to look into Mel's history and discovers the Black Rose stuff and get sucked into their web. He is ultimately killed as the Black Rose try to figure out if he was the illegitimate child or not.

At this point, Mel has championed Hex Tech and turned it into a great economic boon for Piltover. But when Jinx attacks the city and Hex Tech is stolen, chaos starts to throw things into disarray.

News of the attack and stolen technology makes its way back to Ambessa. Grief stricken and terrified of the Black Rose, Ambessa realizes she can finally use Mel's ambition for her own personal gain. She needs Hex Tech weaponry so she can stand up to the Black Rose once and for all.

So Ambessa arrives in Piltover's and starts getting in the ear of Jayce and pushing him towards violence.

And because of her, Jayce makes a hextech weapon and goes into the undercity to take on Silco.

Pissed off Ambessa did this, Mel disowns her mother and her heritage and tries to fix the wrongs. And just as things are looking like it's gonna be okay... Jinx bombs the counselors chamber.

Mel's powers unlock and end up protecting her and Jayce, but nobody else. Ambessa uses this chaos to push for more violence. As Mel continues to stand in her way, Ambessa chooses an even more risky plan.

Ambessa sets the undercity up for an attack on the memorial, which pushes things even further. Mel is no longer in control and Hex Tech weapons are now a real thing.

But the Black Rose have caught on to what Ambessa is doing. And at first they possess the body of a merchant head to try and get close to her, but it fails.

Ambessa is able to kill her and this causes her to panic and nominate Caitlyn to be a general.

Having failed to directly attack Ambessa, the Black Rose falls back on Mel and kidnap her. This happens to coincide with Jayce, Heimerdinger, and Ekko being caught in the Wild Rune.

Ambessa now has control of the city, but she's lost all her magical weaponry. Nobody is smart enough to make weapons for her using Hex Texh, and her magical daughter is gone! So Ambessa falls back on using Singe to make chem-weaponry and eventually tries to make an army that can't be killed.

Remember, Ambessa's only real goal is to get rid of the Black Rose. She doesn't care what happens to anyone else in the pursuit of this goal. Which is exactly why the Black Rose is getting more and more desperate. All their attempts to sideline Ambessa are failing, and now it seems like if she keep going down this path she will unintentionally unleash Viktor's machine Herald onto the population of the world and destroy everything!

So when Mel, in captivity, finally unlocks her magical abilities and proves that she was the illegitimate child Ambessa had, the Black Rose have one last chance to stop Ambessa. Recruit Mel to do it for them. They tell Mel that Ambessa's ambition will ruin the world, and they give her a token that she can use to stop her.

Mel returns to the city of Piltover and tries desperately to reason with Ambessa, but she's too far gone now. Ambessa will not stop. And her war with Piltover is fast approaching worldwide destruction.

During the battle, Caitlyn sacrifices her eye to rip off the magical armor Ambessa had been using and Mel uses the magical amulet the Black Rose gave her to stop her mother.

But Mel is an empath. She also doesn't want the Black Rose to succeed, so she steps in and prevents the Black Rose from killing her mother. She saves her mother from the Black Rose, but the damage is done, and Ambessa dies in her arms.

Mel, now realizing she is magical AND in charge of Ambessa's army, heads back to Noxus to potentially challenge the Black Rose once and for all.

The End.

[deanmarywinchester]

best sf/f/horror I read in 2024

hello esteemed colleagues. here’s stuff I read in 2024 that I liked, in no particular order outside of the ranking tiers. find previous years of this reclist here

top 5

the bright sword by lev grossman: “lev grossman wrote a shockingly melancholy, hopeful, and expansive novel that hurts a little to read, about a young man who dreams of the age of heroes but finds that that age is over” and other unsurprising statements. this one is a take on Arthurian legend that happens after Arthur is dead, and is really interesting to me for how it portrays England as abandoned once by Rome’s great architects and then once more by the magic of Arthur’s court. with the age of legends twice dead, can anyone bring it back for real or can they only try to make it RETVRN?

the traitor baru cormorant + sequels by seth dickinson: there was a version of this post, before I went back and checked my list of what I read this year, where the top 5 was only Seth Dickinson books. these books are about how far you’ll descend into evil (ie how many war crimes you’ll commit as an imperial operative) to save your colonized home. they’re all good but the first one goes CRAZY. the author was a police bias researcher and it shows. portrays lesbian desire really really well. “hard fantasy” isn’t REALLY a thing but it’s this, they’re barely fantasy and more political drama

exordia by seth dickinson also: what if a reality-warping anomaly was hotly pursued by the US military while they were hotly pursued by aliens with planet-killing power? what if you got your whole village killed as a child and now you’re in a romcom with an alien? the Acknowledgements say, nearly word for word, “i wrote this between Barus for fun because those really take it out of me. anyway I’d like to thank the researchers who helped me with astrophysics, nuclear weapon functions, Kurdish feminism and history, and translation into five languages.” read if you like meticulously researched thrillers, Annihilation, and Challengers situations.

everything for everyone by eman adelhadi and m. e. o’brien: told with a framing device whereby the authors mention their own experiences with activism and revolution after the 2020s and compile an oral history of the future anarchist New York Commune, each chapter of this book is an interview with someone about a different aspect of how they contributed to revolution and setting up a new society. my gripe with this book is that I wish it talked more about problems that will still (or newly) exist in utopia, but I still loved it.

we have always lived in the castle by shirley jackson: I finished this book and immediately went to that blog that was running the literary incest tournament earlier this year because I was certain that Merricat and Constance had placed and lo and behold they had. those gothic themes are gothic themeing. read if you want jackson’s theme of small-town distrust and paranoia and isolation taken to the extreme

honorable mentions

the raven tower by ann leckie: what I love about ann leckie is her ability to write non-human protagonists without sci-fi jargon and with totally alien concerns and viewpoints that you can nonetheless buy into. this protagonist is a rock living on a hill that is a local god. read if you like folktales, loners, and twist endings.

the sapling cage by margaret killjoy: even though this is middle grade, all you had to say to me was “Margaret From Podcasts does transfem anarchist Song of the Lioness” and I was in. in a medieval fantasy world without a concept of transness, a trans girl swaps places with her friend so her friend can become a knight and she can become a witch and discover who is leaching the life from the forests for their own gain. the witch politics/interpersonal drama is done with the eye of someone who’s lived in communes most of her life and the way it straddles lingering love of knight tales and distrust of armed people with the legal right to kill you is refreshing

do you dream of terra two by temi oh: the most elite graduates of a cutthroat boarding school are selected for a mission to explore a potentially habitable planet in this character-driven meditation on what it takes to believe in something you can’t see and may have to give up your whole life for

monstrilio: a piece of flesh from a woman’s dead son grows into a person of its own, initially shaped like a monster but molded by his parents into a more-or-less normal-looking young man with a taste for human flesh. cringe moment but this is what Jack Supernatural could have been. to me. litfic with themes of monstrousness/normality, grief, and the various meanings of consuming flesh.

long live evil by sarah rees brennan: listen I know how it sounds but I’m putting this book so high up this list because I had a blast. a teenage cancer patient gets isekai’d into a book series that her sister loves but that she only half remembers, and has to use her vague memory of the plot to avoid execution long enough to obtain a magic item that’ll cure her in the real world. it has something to say about how it feels to live in a body that’s healthy after being desperately sick but it’s also just catnip for your inner teen fangirl daydreaming about getting your first kiss from a tortured prince

the terraformers by annalee newitz: in three different stories of people at different times in the planet’s political development, the story of a privately-owned planet terraformed to be habitable is told. this is for you if you like future politics about privatization and the rights of non-human persons a la Murderbot

silver under nightfall by rin chupeco: this book was selected for me by my friend and favorite bookseller @literally-irreverent because i like romance IN things but I don’t usually like when romance is the whole plot. anyway this is about solving a dangerous strain of vampirism while having a vampire/vampire/vampire-hunter romance that is. mwah. chef’s kiss. read if you like politically disastrous polyamory and The Witcher

the adventures of amina al-sirafi by s. a. chakraborty: i read the daevabad trilogy and I liked it but didn’t love it, but I liked this book a lot. mostly I think it’s really fun to have a seagoing adventurer who’s a mom, and it was done with a lot of care for her perspective.

runners up

to shape a dragon’s breath by monquill blackgoose: in an alternate history New England, an indigenous teenager finds a dragon egg and must become the first non-European to attend a school for dragon riders near her island. YA with prose that skews young and easy to read but with a good story. themes of colonialism and resistance.

things have gotten worse since we last spoke by eric larocca: I don’t love larocca’s prose but I felt like this book succeeded because it’s written in internet dialogue + therefore hid larocca’s tendency to get purple prose with it. horror about the quick rabbithole that is getting socialized/groomed mostly online.

the lion will slaughter the lamb & the barrow will send what it may by margaret killjoy: novellas where a group of wandering punk-house dwellers find out what’s raising supernatural horrors and how to stop them from killing again

running close to the wind by alex rowland: this felt like an attempt to bottle the Our Flag-type chaos and comedy pirate romance vibes without feeling like straight-up fanfiction. a pathetic meow meow of an ex-intelligence agent tries to sell state secrets without getting caught aboard his ex’s ship, while the two of them bet on who can break a hot monk’s vow of chastity first

the gone world by tom sweterlitch: this felt like christopher nolan writing a detective novel, as government agents travel to parallel realities to solve a murder

autonomous by annalee newitz: in a future society, this follows a scientist on the run from the governments and pharma companies that are out to get her for her work to make patented medications available on the black market, as she tries to fix a mistake she made in making an addictive treatment available to the public. this book is broadly about intellectual property and about the concept of property at all

the deep sky by yume kitasei: weirdly this book is a very different take on the same concept as another book on this list, do you dream of terra-two, where graduates of an elite school are sent on a generation ship to start a new colony. the twist is that all the characters are expected to bear two children to carry on the generation ship, which leads to some wild mostly-unexplored gender dynamics. this one is much more sci-fi/mystery to Terra-Two’s character-driven drama.

the atlas six by olivie blake: well-written dark-academia thriller that is obvious booktok fodder. with the vibes of the mortal instruments (everyone is so hot and powerful and tortured!) meets the secret history, a group of young magicians is recruited to learn the secrets of the library of alexandria

Ursula, kill this clown: dishonorable mentions

I don’t have enough dishonorable mentions for their own post this year but HOLY FUCK. THE FIVE BOOKS OF ROBERT MOSES. this book is FOURTEEN hundred pages of absolute dogshit that I should have DNFed but I liked the concept so much that I wanted to find something to like in the execution. Nope! the pitch is “a dirty bomb turns NYC into a wasteland and the city is picked up and moved wholesale, with the maps of the five boroughs remaining more or less the same, into a Nevada desert refugee camp guarded by the army, and a major character is Robert Moses’ disaffected younger brother.” on a petty level, this is the New Yorkiest pitch possible for someone who absolutely doesn’t give a shit about developing the new desert New York with any interest or fidelity. on an unpetty level, this is a slop “political” “thriller” that doesn’t develop a strong political perspective and moves at a sloth pace. skip.

[peppermakesart]

Man this is sad, I really enjoyed infinite fusion, and a lot of the reason for that is all the hard work the spriters put into it. Obviously I’m going to side with the artists on this one, but also it’s a shame I’ll never be able to play the game again because I don’t want to have to look at genAI. It’s morally reprehensible, but also I just find it visually repulsive.

I was sent a work email recently about a Christmas charity event requesting donations, and for some reason they had to include a generated image. I personally don’t believe there’s any good reason to use any of that computer generated slop, gen AI images, those apps that people use to write them an essay or pretend to talk to a fictional character, it all just feels gross. I do my best to keep an open mind and not judge people for liking different things, but this AI stuff is different, but it just feels like a mockery of human connection. I feel really bad for the kids who have to live through this. I see stories online about how students’ legitimately written essays are flagged as written by AI, and they’re unfairly penalized. I feel like I have a pretty good eye for it, but I sympathize with all the boomers on facebook getting fooled by AI propaganda because they don’t have the tools to distinguish fiction from reality. I’m horrified by how it’s been weaponizes to sexualize women, especially young girls, in an almost industrialized way that just wasn’t possible before. I really worry how things will go from here, I don’t see our government being able to effectively combat these issues, given the age of our representatives. Did you see that story about the 80 something year old congresswoman who went missing for 6 months and turned up recently in a nursing home? And her aides were hiding it from everyone and signing laws on her behalf. Did you see Mitch McConnell at that press conference the other day where he was completely unresponsive? It feels like we’re falling off a cliff and there’s no one behind the wheel

Sorry for the long rant, somehow this stopped being about pokemon a while ago but I have a lot of feelings on these issues and I feel like a lot of these problems are interconnected

I wasn't planning on posting today, but the Pokémon Infinite Fusion owner/dev just decided to use generative AI. To some people this blatant disregard for the wishes of the artists working for PIF might seem surprising, so I felt like I should clear some stuff up: they've always been like this. Please read this.

Please share this. I'll respond to any questions to the best of my abilities. I also apologize for making this post out of 8 images, but for some other platforms I'm on I can get my message across better this way.

[mochegato]

Mistletoe Mayhem

“Explain it to me again,” Jon prompted as he trailed behind Damian.

Damian’s lips pursed like he was trying to hold back from exploding.  “We are here to assis…”

“Yeah, yeah.  I heard that.  But why are we here?” he asked.  “This seems like something one of the big guys would want to be involved in.”

Damian scoffed and shoved his hands further into his pockets.  The Parisian winter, which had just started brushing the ground with a light dusting of flurries, nipping at his bare fingers.  “We are more than sufficient to assist in ending their rogue.  We do not need others interfering.”

“They are facing an emotion based rogue.  Can you imagine Green Arrow or my father coming here.  It would be like handing the rogue a nuclear weapon.  The local team has been doing an admirable job thus far, but such an opponent would be disastrous.”

“Right,” Jon drawled.  “But you wouldn’t have that issue.”

“Naturally,” he scoffed.

“Naturally,” Jon repeated in a mocking tone.  “But neither would Dick.  So tell me again, why us?”

Damian growled and yanked out his phone, checking it for a moment before glancing around them suspiciously then turning into an alley.  “Because I have a relationship with the local hero team leader.”

Jon’s eyebrows shot up.  “Relationship?”

“I have consulted with the leader several times.  Built up a… trust,” he finished with what would have sounded like certainty if Jon didn’t know Damian so well.

He eyed Damian suspiciously.  “Define several times.”

“More than a few,” he growled back.  He looked around again before glowering at Jon.  “Now, let’s get to the roof.”

Damian climbed up to the roof with little effort, followed quickly by Jon who was barely using any powers to keep up.  As soon as they settled, Jon smiled at the festively decorated little patio.  There were lights hung around the sides and wrapped around the railing, ornaments hanging all around, and even a small tree, lit up and decorated brightly enough that people on the street would be able to see it.

“Damian!”

Jon looked on in muted horror as an unfamiliar woman launched herself through a door in the roof and at Damian.  He moved to intercede diplomatically without using any powers.  It was a fairly familiar movement, she was hardly the first person to think they could get close to Damian with false bravado and cheer, clearly broadcasting how utterly unfamiliar they were with Damian.  Damian did not cozy… unless it was with a pet.

But Damian’s compliant expression and prepared stance froze Jon in his movement.  Damian wasn’t bracing against an attack; he was bracing for a familiar weight.  If Jon didn’t know better, he’d even think there was even a bit of excitement in his eyes, which was just about unheard of.

Moments later, Jon was convinced that’s exactly what it was when more shockingly still, she threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace that he reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her waist.  Her waist!  Damian was touching her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.  Damian had warned him there was magic in Paris, and it must be true because that was the only excuse he could think of to explain the sight in front of him.

The woman pulled back with a bright smile and shining eyes locked on Damian while his arms lingered at her waist for a few moments before snapping back to his side.  “It's good to see you again!  Welcome to Paris.”

“I’ve been before,” Damian corrected instantly.  Jon winced at his blunt statement and opened his mouth to soften the blow, but Damian continued before he could.  “But it is good to be back… and with you again,” he finished with what could almost be described as a small smile.

The woman beamed back, completely unaffected by the brusque tone.  “Welcome back then.”  She kept eye contact for a few moments, her cheeks growing steadily redder, before turning to Jon expectantly.

Damian’s body language instantly stiffened as if just remembering Jon was there as well.  “And this is my… associate, Jonathan Kent.  Jon, this is Marinette Dupain Cheng.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marinette,” Jon chirped, eagerly offering his hand.

“It’s nice to meet a friend of Damian’s,” she giggled.

Jon cocked his head to the side, his eyes sliding between Damian and Marinette suspiciously.  “How did you know I was his friend?”

Damian harumhed and crossed his arms in annoyance but Marinette smirked, a teasing twinkle in her eyes.  “He said associate without disgust.  You must be a really good friend.”

“His best,” Jon confirmed.

“You are most assuredly not,” Damian scoffed.

“Well, it’s nice to meet his best friend,” she nodded in mock solemnity.

“I am talking.  And at a volume you definitely can both hear, especially you,” he hissed with a not too gentle shove at Jon’s shoulder as he stepped between him and Marinette.

“We’re aware,” Jon grinned.

Marinette’s smirk eased into a warm, amused smile, her focus back on Damian.  “Thank you again for agreeing to help.  We could really use the assistance.”

“You have been doing an admirable job so far,” he stated, causing Jon to whip his head toward him at his words.  That!  That was the strangest, most conclusive evidence of magic he’d seen so far.  Compliments were typically hard fought from Damian, most of his team had never received more than a ‘not terrible’, and she had just stepped into a positive observation with ease.

“Thank you,” she blushed.  “But I can admit we are surviving not succeeding.”  She gook a deep breath and glanced over to Jon with a small smile and nod.  “Have you gotten the rundown?”

His expression instantly transformed, all mirth evaporating and getting replaced by a serious set to his lips.  “Magic villain.  Infects others to do his dirty work based on negative emotions.  The team of local, also magic, heroes have containment covered but are having issues tracking him.  That’s where I come in.  Listen for any suspicious conversations and search for hidden lairs.  If I discover either, track them down and see if anyone with a mask is hanging around.”

She nodded along with the excessively pared down analysis.  “Any maniacal laughter or monologuing, get on it,” she ordered lightly, but her voice hardened as she continued.  “I don’t know how the lair thing is going to work though.  This is Paris.  There are more deep, dark, hidden crypts and bunkers than even the people living above them know about.  Maybe focus on listening for any fluttering instead.  There shouldn’t be any butterflies or too many bugs this time of year except for the akuma.  I don’t know if they actually make noise you can detect though.  Magic and all…”

She looked down, her brow furrowed in consideration for a moment before she seemed to remember they were there.  She shot Jon a strained smile.  “Sorry.  It would be the best Christmas present ever though.  I wouldn’t be able to thank you enough.”  She turned to Damian with a warmer smile and squeezed one of his hands.  “Or you, for arranging all of this for us.”

“We will help end this.”  She smiled even wider when he squeezed her hand back.  It almost looked like he was going to take a step closer to solidify his declaration, but the motion was stopped by a sudden ringing and an indignant screech from the street below.

They leaned over the railing in time to see a woman trying to run and dodge away from a sprig of mistletoe with ringing bells that got progressively louder the further she ran, and a man who looked utterly lost, getting dragged behind her as if he was being pulled by an invisible rope.  If anything, his legs were trying to peddle backward, but it had no effect on his trajectory, instead, they were slipping and sliding on the slick ground.

Down the street, a gigantic figure that appeared to be some combination of Cupid and Santa who had gotten mauled by Swamp Thing leapt with ease onto a distant building’s roof.  “I am Mistletoe Mayhem,” he declared.  His voice thundered throughout Paris.  “I will make it so nobody can be rejected and laughed at.  Everybody will be with whoever they want to be with.”

 “Well, that’s incredibly problematic,” Marinette muttered.  She sighed and massaged her forehead.  “It appears you’re going to get your chance sooner than expected.  Come on, let’s go into my room and I can transform.  I’ll head out and you guys can change after I leave.”

A flash of light and two stunned foreign heroes later, she was on a distant roof assessing Mistletoe Mayhem.  “Well, at least it seems pretty straight forward,” Chat commented landing next to her.  “It’s like a Christmas present to us.  Santa remembered us,” he swooned dramatically.

Ladybug snorted but nodded in agreement then nodded to Rena Rouge and Carapace as they also joined them.  “And doesn’t appear to be too violent, though forcing people to kiss someone else against their will like this kind of is assault.”

“Not kind of,” Carapace scoffed.

“Ah, yeah, not cute and quirky at all,” Chat nodded.  “I can see that.”

“And Pegasus had a theory on the object,” Rena interjected.

“Pegasus is here too?” Chat asked, head whipping around, but freezing at seeing two figures emerge from the shadows.  “Is that Superboy?  Superboy is here?”  He froze.  “Wait… is having a superpowered hero here good or bad?”

“Yes,” Carapace nodded sagely but eyed the two foreign heroes warily.

“Oh my God,” Rena squealed.  “I have to…”

“Hopefully good,” Ladybug interrupted before she could get carried away with the interview she knew Rena was dying to do.  “Superboy, this is Chat Noir, Carapace, and Rena Rouge.  Robin, you’ve met Chat, of course, and this is Carapace and Rena.  They’re here to help track down Hawk Moth while we’re fighting the akuma.”

“Awesome, dudette,” Carapace nodded.  “Welcome, dudes.  Let me know if you need help doing your thing.”

“Thanks,” Superboy smiled.  “We’ll let you know.”

“We will complete our task.  You need to focus on your task,” Robin commanded.  “Splitting your attention can cause harm to your teammates.”

Carapace raised an eyebrow and met Chat’s gaze.  “Right,” Chat drawled.  He turned his attention fully to Robin.  “So…”

“Look out!” Ladybug yelled and dove for Chat.  She managed to get to him just in time, knocking him to the ground moments before the beam could hit him, as everyone scattered to safety.  They rolled together a few meters and froze, bracing themselves for any indication of the bells that were plaguing so many other Parisians.

When there was no indication of ringing, Ladybug let out a breath and finally opened her eyes to see a hand extended in front of her.  She lifted her eyes as she took the proffered hand finally meeting Robin’s gaze… and groaned as bells instantly started ringing above her.  “I thought we got away with it,” she grumbled.

“This is why you don’t split your attention,” Robin growled at Chat.  “If the akuma was more dangerous she could have been hurt or killed.”

“But he’s not and she wasn’t, and if he had been, I wouldn’t have been,” Chat chuckled.  “And at least we know how to make them stop.  You just have to…”

“No,” Robin interrupted.

Ladybug quirked her lips to the side in thought.  Surely it didn’t have to be on the lips… did it?  It’s still a kiss when her Maman would kiss her cheek or her Papa would kiss her forehead.  They could… do that, right?  Even if she wanted to do more, it wasn’t fair to force him.  “We could try…”

“Absolutely not,” he stated definitively.  “That is not an acceptable option.”

Marinette blinked at him.  She didn’t exactly want to be forced to kiss in front of everyone either, but he spit it out like the very idea of kissing her disgusted him.  She’d thought they were building toward something, that there was a fondness, sometimes she even thought it was more like affection, a restrained flirting.  But she had clearly misinterpreted his actions.  It wasn’t that he kept his emotions close to his chest, opening up to her occasionally.  He just wasn’t interested.

“Right,” she nodded curtly and took a step away from him.  The bells rang louder, but she would rather deal with the clatter than make Damian uncomfortable.  “Well then, we will have to plan to stick close together.”  She glowered at the bells loudly ringing.  “Maybe that will either blend in with the rest or we can use it to our advantage later, assuming Chat doesn’t get hit.”

“As I was saying before,” Rena popped in with Carapace on her heels, “Pegasus had an idea what the object might be, which is why we came out.”

“Without knowing who it is?” Chat asked.

“Without knowing who it is,” she confirmed.  “If you look at his costume, it’s covered in Mistletoe, right?”  The group, except for Robin and Carapace nodded like it was a given.  “But that’s not mistletoe.  The berries on all those are red.”

“Well, yeah, Mistletoe berries are red, aren’t they?” Superboy asked, uncertain for the first time about something he’d been confident in for his entire life.  “I see them everywhere.”

“Apparently not.  Red just sells better on decorations.  The berries are actually white,” Rena grinned.  “And if you look carefully, the sprig of mistletoe at the center of his chest is the only one with white berries.”

Ladybug rose up to look over the edge of the roof they were hiding behind, her eyes narrowed as she studied the akuma.  Robin joined her, positioning himself so he was brushing against her despite having plenty of room around them, a fact Chat proved by popping up next to them a few moments later with a good distance between him and Robin.  “See it?”

“Yes,” Ladybug and Robin answered at the same time.

“Perfect,” Chat cheered.  “What’s the plan?”

Ladybug turned away as she planned while Robin kept his eyes toward the akuma.  It only took a few seconds before her scrunched expression smoothed out into a bright smile.  “Superboy, you start searching.  We need you focused entirely on that.”  He looked between her and Robin, a smirk growing on his lips.  Robin always thought he knew best and wanted to lead, even when he was teamed with older heroes, so to see him accept Ladybug’s lead with no pushback was, yet more proof magic existed, and she was the embodiment of it.  He saluted Ladybug and flew off.

“Chat, you’ll use your clowning to our advantage.  You can distract like nobody else.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded and spun his staff.  “Always happy to be the center of attention.”

Carapace scoffed, but immediately snapped to attention when Ladybug turned her focus to him.  “Carapace, can you create a barrier around the device he’s using to shoot out the mistletoe so he can’t get anyone else?”

Carapace looked down at his shell analytically for a few seconds before slowly nodding.  “I think I can.”

“You think…” Robin hissed, finally breaking his focus on the horizon to glare at Carapace.

“I do,” Carapace nodded and met Robin’s glare with a smirk.  “You’re not the first to ask.  Several teachers have asked the same thing.  Also, don’t split your attention.”  He nodded toward the akuma with a smirk.  “Dangerous to do that.”

Robin growled and took a step toward him but Ladybug’s hand brushing against his chest stopped him instantly.  “Robin and I will grab the item.”  She shot Robin a look to gauge his agreement.  She needed him completely in agreement on this.  They were going to have to work in sync despite never having worked together before.  He didn’t meet her eyes, having returned his gaze to their surroundings, but he gave a curt head bob.  “Okay, Chat, Rena, you know what to do.  Robin, you ready?”

It took only a few minutes for everyone to be in position and Rena’s flute to whistle, or at least Ladybug assumed it whistled, she couldn’t quite hear much above the bells.  With a breath and a nod to Robin, Ladybug made her approach.  She jumped toward the akuma.  “To the left,” she announced loudly.

Robin reacted a step behind her jumping to the opposite side to balance her, still within the distance they’d been allowed by the akuma’s curse, but midjump he was suddenly yanked to the left and into the akuma’s shoulder.  He moved quickly to avoid the akuma’s blind swing.  At the same moment, Ladybug was yanked back toward him just enough to put her within the akuma’s reach.  His wild movement caught her hard enough to send her flying several streets away.  Robin prepared himself for the pull just in time as he arced through the air after her and landed incredibly elegantly considering the circumstances.

He rushed over to Ladybug, who had crashed into a wall significantly less elegantly, leaving a very distinct and deep impression in the bricks.  “Are you okay?” he asked, though it came out closer to a scream in order to be heard over the bells.  His eyes scanned her body, giving her head special attention.

“Yeah,” Ladybug grumbled.  “Magic suit and all.”  She took a breath and brushed the rubble off her body.  She tried to ignore the shock of electricity that shot through her when Robin joined her, brushing his nimble fingers against her shoulders and hair.  “What happened?”

He huffed before answering.  His hands clenched as he pulled them from his work helping her.  “When I work with a partner, usually, we go in opposite directions so we don’t give our opponent an easy target.”

“But we can’t get too far apart,” she answered back louder and perhaps harsher than she meant to, but it was frustrating not only to be in the situation but to be heard over the bells.

“I didn’t anticipate the curse shrinking the allowed distance.  I will anticipate next time,” he groused, barely loud enough to be heard, but the hard set of his expression was impossible to miss.

“I need you to stay with me.  We need to move as one,” she yelled.

“That is unrealistic,” he yelled back.  “It takes years to be able to anticipate each other’s movements like that.”

Ladybug sighed and looked down, eyes squeezed shut in thought.  He wasn’t exactly wrong.  The kind of anticipation they would need to move as one, considering the erratically shrinking distance, took experience.  She and Chat had learned to move in sync pretty quickly, but they were literally chosen because they were perfect compliments, and regardless it still took them a few battles to move together.

But if she and Robin couldn’t work in tandem, there was no way they could succeed.  They would have to switch their task with someone else.  The problem was everyone was already where they worked best, except them.  So, the team was going to have to take less optimal roles to fill in the gaps.  And at this point, the bells were ringing so loud she could barely hear her own thoughts, let alone what anyone was saying to her, so maybe it was best if they sat it out.

“If you… we,” she corrected quickly, “want to avoid the kiss…” she turned away from him pretending not to notice the way his head snapped toward her at her statement, “then we…”

“We should do it,” he barked.

She blinked at him.  “The kiss?” she asked uncertainly.

He nodded, his eyes still searing into her like he was searching for something.  “We don’t have to if you want to avoid it, but we cannot contribute ideally like this.”

She nodded.  He was right.  She just wished it wasn’t so thoroughly against his will.  “Okay,” she said quietly, definitely not loudly enough to be heard, but he clearly understood.

He stepped up to her carefully keeping his body from actually touching her.  He searched her face for a moment before closing his eyes and slowly dipping down to brush his lips gently against hers.  It was barely enough to feel, but it caused a flush that spread throughout her entire body.

It took a beat before she opened her eyes and instantly frowned realizing the bells were still ringing.  Robin was already glaring at them when she lifted her eyes to analyze them, like there might be some instructions written on them somewhere.  “Maybe we need to…” she started, but Robin was ahead of her.

He wound one hand in her hair and the other around her waist, pulling her against him.  She rose up at the same time to crash her lips against his, this time more heated.  His hand in her hair tightened and pulled just enough to angle her head differently allowing him to deepen the kiss.

She let out a quiet whimper that seemed to break something in him.  He released her hair and instead wrapped it around her lower back to pull her closer as he turned them so he could press her against the brick wall.  She wound her arms around his shoulders and arced into him to get as close as possible, seeking some kind of relief from the tingling rush throughout her body, or maybe seeking more.

After an entirely too short amount of time, Robin pulled away just enough to breathe, eyes still closed and breath still coming out in heavy pants.  It took Ladybug a few seconds before she found the resolve to lift her eyes to his face and a few more for him to open his eyes.  “We should…” she started, voice nothing more than a whisper.

He hummed in agreement but didn’t move, not to release her or look away, until a peel of maniacal laughter sounded throughout the city.  A heavy, regretful sigh passed his lips and finally let his hands drop.

“I can stand guard while you get the mistletoe,” he said breathlessly.  “Backup for you.”

Ladybug nodded mindlessly for a few seconds before her brain caught up with what he had said.  “Yeah.  That’s…”  She cleared her throat and took a small step back, allowing the distance to help clear her head.  “That sounds good.  I’ll um…” she pulled out her yoyo and lifted it up for him to see, “I’ll let the team know.”

With their new freedom, the team was able to take down the akuma in a matter of seconds and after talking to the victim, returned to the roof to recoup, minus a still missing Superboy.  “Great job, guys.  Sorry for our mess up.”  Ladybug smiled sheepishly at them.

“Nah, dudette,” Carapace shrugged.  “That was a crazy challenge you had.  Fun for us to watch, though.”

“I want the full story later,” Rena whispered into Ladybug’s ear with a devilish grin.  Ladybug flushed as red as her suit but nodded before shoving her away.  Rena winked at Robin then grabbed Carapace’s hand and bounced away.

“Right, well I need to finish getting ready for the party tonight.  Going to go take down the mistletoe though.  It doesn’t sound so appealing anymore,” Chat grumbled.  “You’re welcome to come too,” he offered to Robin.  “And Superboy too, if he wants.”  He saluted to them and jumped in the opposite direction leaving Ladybug alone with Robin.

Ladybug watched him leave for a few seconds before allowing her eyes to dart toward Robin.  “Why don’t we go back to my place, and we can change?”

He nodded and followed after her, silent for the entire trip, even dropping through the door in her ceiling without a word.  She transformed back to Marinette, which seemed to take some of her bravado with it.  She rocked on her heels waiting for him to break the silence.  When he didn’t after a few seconds, she couldn’t take the silence any longer, which she acknowledged was pretty ironic considering how desperately she’d been hoping for silence just an hour earlier.  “So… the kiss,” she prompted.

He huffed but didn’t respond verbally other than that, preferring to scowl at the ground and cross his arms over his chest like a shield.  Ladybug let out a sad sigh.  Her heart fractured at his sound.  It was definitively the best kiss she’d ever had, but clearly, it hadn’t had the same effect on him.  “I’m sorry,” she offered sincerely.  “I know…”

“No, you don’t,” Robin stopped her.  He took a breath and removed his mask so he could meet her eyes with nothing between them.  “I didn’t want the… first,” the word came out a combination of tortured and hopeful.  His eyes darted away but she recognized the tension in his frame.  It was the same tension she often held, though he wore it a bit more elegantly than she did.  It was an anxious tension rather than a disgusted tension.  “…time we kissed to not be our choice.”

“First?” she uttered, eyes blown wide in shock.

 “You said it was assault,” he continued.  “I don’t want to make you feel like that.  I didn’t want you to kiss me because you had to.  I wanted it to be because you wanted to, but…”

“I did,” she burst out.  His eyes whipped to hers, hope swimming in them.  “I just wasn’t sure if you… wanted… to,” she finished anxiously.

His lips curled up into a soft smile.  He crossed the room in two quick strides, hands already reaching to cup her face before he even took his first step.  “And you still do?” he asked, voice searching.

She smiled brightly back up at him.  “I do.  Very much so.  For a while now.”

He grinned back and kissed her again, just because they wanted to.  His lips met hers, gentle but firm, confident in the presence of more in the future.

Marinette slid her hands up his arms and squeezed his.  She broke the kiss unintentionally with her brimming smile.  “Do you want to go with me to Chat’s party tonight?”

His eyes hardened just a little, just enough to signal a shift in mood.  “Are you okay with me knowing his identity?  And from the sounds of it, the rest of your team hang out together so they will likely be there as well.”

Marinette shrugged.  “They seem okay with it, and I’ve already trusted you with mine.  And I want you to meet my friends.  But if you don’t…”

“I do,” he assured her. “I just want to make sure you are sure.”  He settled a tender kiss on her lips to confirm his statement.  He pulled away with a playful look.  “Do you think we can convince Chat to leave some mistletoe out?  Just for us?  All night?”

She hummed in approval and nestled into his arms.  “Probably.  And if not, we can buy some for ourselves.”

[synchodai]

That Arcane AU episode

S2E7, Pretend Like It's The First Time, is my favorite and most hated season 2 episode. I like it because it mirrors S1E7, The Boy Savior, my (and most people's favorite) episode: Ekko-centric, Silco stealing the show, gorgeous emotional choreography between Ekko and Jinx, a microcosm of its season's themes, etc.

I hate it because it is a microcosm of its season's themes and said themes contradict S1E7.

Let's talk about what The Boy Savior showed us:

Vi rediscovering her community and agency with the Firelights. For the first time in the series, Caitlyn is prisoner and Vi is the one with power over her, but Vi chooses to vouch for Caitlyn so that the Firelights ease up on her and agree to give the Hextech core back to the Piltover Council. This shows Vi and Caitlyn as equals with power and influence in two different realms that they use to move together towards a common goal. (Compare that to S2 where Vi is fully dependent on Caitlyn and contributes almost nothing in their mission to capture Jinx.)

Powder vs Jinx. Ekko tells Vi Powder is dead and only Jinx remains. Vi argues with him saying she can still save Powder. We see the seed of doubt she planted in Ekko sprout when he hesitates to kill Jinx on the Bridge of Progress when he sees Powder in her. (Inadvertedly, Vi saved Jinx's life here. Both Ekko and Vi are wrong because Jinx IS Powder.)

Zaun vs Jinx. Chem-Barons want Silco to hand over Jinx so that the Enforcers will lift their blockade. Sevika tells Silco Jinx is a liability in their mission for an independent Zaun. Silco refuses to hand over Jinx (because it's not a choice between Jinx or Zaun — Jinx IS Zaun, but that's a post for another day).

The Enforcer's brutality is shown in full force. Viktor argues with Jayce for ordering a blockade on the undercity. Ekko calls out Vi for the Enforcers treating people in the undercity like animals.

Why Silco fights for Zaun. He gives a whole speech about suffocating in the toxic fumes of the mines to reestablish his dominance and reaffirm Sevika's loyalty. He reminds them that just because they've had a taste of fresh air, it doesn't mean they should forget that they still all come from the dirt.

Jayce's moral spiral in the name of progress. He's tormented by his betrayal of Heimerdinger, calls on Enforcers to terrorize the undercity, alienates Viktor, and eventually makes the choice (with Mel's urging) to weaponize Hextech.

Ekko vs Jinx. The quick 3-minute scene on the Bridge of Progress did so much for Arcane's reputation. If you asked me what Arcane is about, I would point to that scene. It showed who Ekko is. It showed who Jinx is. It showed the history and relationship between them. It is a commentary on Zaun and its children. Every frame is literally a well-conceived painting. It placed Ekko and Jinx as foils — Ekko is what could be if everything went right and Jinx as what happened when everything went wrong.

Let's talk about what Pretend Like It's The First Time showed us:

Only Powder grieves Vi. Whether purposefully or otherwise, the episode paints Vi as someone who would have been better off as a child martyr. Mind you, in the original timeline, she was presumed dead at about the same age, but I suppose a teen languishing in prison doesn't have the same impact as a public tragedy with a visibly gruesome corpse. Vi's previously established connection with her community is diminished. They DID already mourn her and thought they lost her, and their grief was memorialized through a mural because they cared for HER. In S2, Ekko only paints a mural of Vi to placate Powder, implying that her sister was the only one to truly mourn Vi's passing.

Everyone is free to move to and from the Bridge of Progress. Where are the Enforcers? Why are they gone? Who's keeping out the undercity folks sick from mining gas from mingling with the topsiders? The episode doesn't care.

Silco's life is made better by forgiving Vander. This makes it seem that Silco turned to a life of crime out of spite for one person, when S1E7 had him make a whole monologue why he built his Shimmer empire in the first place. They were being poisoned in the mines — did him and Vander making up clear up all the toxic waste in the undercity? How? When they were younger and working together, Zaun was still polluted, so what's different now?

Perfection is either pretending problems never existed in the first place or everyone turning into lifeless statues. Ekko's version of a perfect world and Viktor's version of a perfect world are both heavily sanitized dystopias utopias that ignore history and come at the cost of sacrificing innocent people. The episode never interrogates this.

Ekko and Jinx. I love Stromae but that dance sequence does not live up to S1E7 at all. The animation consists of blurry and choppy frames — an unimaginative way to simulate the feeling of being in love. Ekko apologizes to Powder for being "consumed" by all the ways the undercity wasn't perfect and "giving up on it" WHEN HE NEVER DID. Maybe he gave up on trying to save Powder, but he kept fighting for the undercity. His flaw was (understandably) looking down on Jinx as an enemy and seperate from the undercity rather than someone who shared their plight. What Ekko had to overcome was seeing everyone as deserving of saving and not just establishing another gated community. He shouldn't have seen Jinx deserving of love only when she was Powder. He should have seen Jinx as Jinx (mental illness, full of shimmer, uncontrollable) and came to the realization she's still one of them.

TL;DR: The Boy Savior was supposed to throw the nickname in Ekko's face because instead of saving Jinx, he was already counting her out as a "necessary sacrifice" for their community to move forward. S1E7 tackled with the idea of having "necessary sacrifices" in the name of progress. Give them this problem child and save Zaun, give up on your sister and move on with your life, just sell out this person that no one cares about and is only a burden on society and everything would be hunky-dory. Silco said no, Vi said no, Ekko said yes and then hesitated (which still led to her death if Silco hadn't saved her). But the message is clear — you do not better your society by sacrificing a scapegoat. Jinx is a product of the evils of her environment, not the cause of it. Class solidarity and all that, something something we are closer to the homeless and the drug addicts than we are to the politicians and billionaires.

However, S2E7 affirmed that, yes, sometimes children do have to die and we do have to sacrifice people for the world to be a better a place. What a mess.

[mirensiart]

So i remember you asked me to tell you about the story i created so here i am 😆

So, my story takes place in a version of Hyrule where the old legends about heroes are basically forgotten, like no one believes in them anymore.(People tell them to kids as bedtime stories)

Zelda (nickname:crown), a runaway princess driven by prophetic dreams of a hero, and Link (nickname:jewel), a treasure hunter making a living off fake jewels and occasional real finds.(don't worry he will eventually become good at it, that is finding treasures)

Zelda has escaped her overprotective father, who tried to force her into marriage, and is searching for the hero from her visions to stop a growing darkness threatening Hyrule.

Link, an orphan from a neighboring kingdom, is just trying to survive after being exiled for conning a powerful leader.

They meet by chance in a bustling market, where their clash causes chaos—and from there, their fates are tangled. Together, they travel through various lands, seeking the hero (who, ironically, is Link himself, though they don't know it yet).

Zelda uses basic magic and also a spear and Link uses a small dagger at the beginning but he will have to find another weapon for the adventure

I'm still looking for the rest of the story lol

I don't know yet about the title and placement in the timeline.

Here are their designs:

also I wanted to tell you that I love all your drawings, they are so beautiful and I really like how so many people share their ideas with you or just talk to you. You have such a lovely community!

have a nice day/afternoon/night😆😊

OOOUGGHHHH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH???!?!?!?!

Both of them looking for the hero without knowing the hero is jewel all along is hilarious I LOVE IT SO MUCH LMAO

Also a con artist + treasure hunter link is honestly PEAK !!!!!!!!

Also your zelda....so beautiful... I love her final outfit so much!!!!! I love crown, I'm her fan 🥹💖‼️

What you have so far is SO GOOD I can't wait to see more of them!!! 👀💖✨️

Link being from another kingdom and not knowing much about hyrule's legends is so good, like peak context!

Thank you so much for sharing them with me, I love them ?????

And awww, you're so sweet!! 🥹💖✨️ I hope you had a great week, and happy holidays!!!!

[silvershadow1711]

In a show where an oligarchy, ruling a city that has crippled and even killed the lower classes to earn its wealth and status, uses experimental technology that has a deleterious effect on living matter (including one of the only plants that provides fresh air to the aforementioned lower class) (this is never fixed or even addressed again btw) to illegally line their pockets and make weapons, the actual "bad guys", the people the show says need to be stopped at all costs are...

A disabled revolutionary who wants his people freed from the yoke of the oligarchy's opression.

A mentally-ill orphan who lost her parents to police brutality.

A disabled man who was actively dying because of the polution pumped into his home by the ruling class, who uses his magic powers to heal the sick (this is a BAD thing, according to the writers; healing the things that cause you pain makes you an empty shell)

And a scary black foreign woman who leads an invasion of also scary, barbaric foreigners to take over the oligarchal city. Which makes the lower classes that have been opressed and killed by the oligarchy decide that they want to die for oligarchal city... rather than the rich elites who actually live there and are in danger.

But, y'know, the writers didn't want to make a "political" show.

I think the thing people fail to realise about Caitlyn's "redemption" and lack thereof is that the plot contorts itself around her never having to question her core beliefs or stop following the power structures she's always followed. Isn't Caitlyn's flaw as a character a confidence in "the system"? A genuine belief that the best way to help people in to remain loyal to the government and give the police more and more destruction weapons and freedoms to use them against whoever they deem fit. Would not a "redemption arc" require her to actually question those beliefs? People seem to think her betraying Ambessa is an example of that? No, her loyalty was never to Ambessa, but to the ruling class of Piltover. She follows Ambessa when she's fooled into thinking Ambessa has the same goals as the ruling class, and betrays her when she realises that isn't the case. She defends Piltover at the end to "protect people", yes, but she only ever gets justified in her existing belief that oligarchical government and violent hyper-militarised cops are the the way to do that. She never changes, the writers just have circumstances realign to where she's now on the "good" side. If the writers had never introduced "evil disabled man who wants to destroy the entire world for no reason" and "evil black woman who loves killing for no reason", and kept the central conflict as being primarily Piltover against Zaun, Caitlyn would've had to change. The way it is, unless you think Caitlyn's arc was learning that destroying the world for no reason was bad, she has the exact same ideology in season 1 episode 1 as she does in season 2 episode 9. It was Vi who changed and decided police brutality was amazing and living in a mansion while other people eat shit is cool as fuck.

Bottom line, you can like Arcane all you want but for god's sake don't pretend it has a leftist or revolutionary message if you have a shred of media literacy.

[theender36]

I got some thoughts on Sonic 3 that I wanna talk about so

⚠️ Spoilers for the movie Sonic the Hedgehog 3 (2024) ⚠️

Love that the riff from Live and Learn is used as a leitmotif for Shadow but also Maria was playing it on her guitar which is sad and now I'm picturing Shadow playing that riff in his head all the time

Right before Shadow busts out of containment his heart monitor starts going and then stops which I'm interpreting as his heart beating so fast it doesn't register

They didn't outright say it but Gerald is the one who hacked into GUN to revive Shadow. I don't think they addressed how he got out of prison but he probably built something in his cell

I love the running gag that Ozzie the golden retriever resents Sonic

Loved the joke about Sonic's security system (nunchucks) still working (hit himself in the face again)

Shadow has always been a foil for Sonic but the movie fully realizes the potential of that dynamic in my opinion. They both have a loneliness deep inside from losing someone they loved but Sonic was able to move on and find more family. Shadow hasn't had that chance yet

They used the "Talk about low budget flights" line!

The credits said they used the City Escape music but I must have missed it

Wild that they gave Shadow a gun and a motorcycle again and made it work this time. It probably has something to do with him doing the Akira slide up the side of a building

The CG animation really shines in this movie. I kept looking at how good the reflections in their eyes were. And the fight scenes just had so much slick movement and speed while also properly conveying what was actually happening

When the egg-drones show up, you assume they're going after Team Sonic. But Gerald is controlling the drones so they were definitely gunning for Walters

A Traveling Wilburys song during the flashback was a surprise to be sure but a welcome one. However, I will nitpick the fact that the song End of the Line came out in 1988, which would have been 14 years after Shadow was locked away

Biolizard cameo as the kaiju in the movie Maria and Shadow are watching

Eggman says something about having some unknown quality that makes him "totally undesirable to all possible genders" which suggests to me that he has tried dating loads of people with various gender identities (Woah, he's pansexual! I didn't know that!)

You may ask why the plot treats G.U.N. keeping the other key to the Eclipse Cannon like it's a bad thing. For one thing, the Robotniks are gonna try to steal it, and for another, I don't think a secretive yet fallible military organization having access to a doomsday weapon is a good thing

The concept of G.U.N. keeping a vault that has no records of it so that people can't visualize it to use Warp Rings is very cool and almost SCP-esque

Big fan of Shadow's solution to a telenovela love triangle being for the woman to just kill the two men vying for her affections

Love the subversion of a fight between Sonic and Knuckles with Knuckles instead relenting because he trusts that Sonic will do the right thing in the end

That being said, Knuckles desperately needs a flying island to keep the Master Emerald safe because Wade just ain't gonna cut it

There are a small handful of moments where I think Jim Carey did a really good job of dramatic acting. In particular, the final flashback to Maria's death where he manages to really show the loss and heartbreak Gerald experiences despite wearing a goofy prosthetic

Gerald turning ice-cold to Eggman when he says "You're no Maria"

So glad they did a DragonBall-style Super fight between Sonic and Shadow. If you're gonna make a movie with a bunch of CGI, you might as well go a little nuts with it

You may ask "how are Sonic and Shadow breathing in space?" The same way they do in the games babeeeyyyyy

Shadow and Gerald really wanted to kill the whole world and themselves. And once the Cannon was charged, Shadow didn't care anymore. He was totally willing to let Sonic punch a hole in his chest

Of course, Sonic comes to his senses and is willing to talk with Shadow after sparing him. I love that what changed Shadow's mind was remembering what Maria told him about the stars. That even when they're gone, their light still shines

They literally Lived and Learnt

I wish the Live and Learn sequence wasn't interrupted by Gerald giving Eggman an over-the-knee grandpappy spanking but what can you do

I'm glad that Tails and Knuckles weren't just sidelined for the third act. They show up to save Eggman, help redirect the Cannon, and then save Sonic. Would have been really awkward if they made such a big deal about teamwork only for Sonic to wrap up the conflict on his own

Tails is really chill about Eggman stabbing his grandpa in the butt and launching him into a giant bug zapper

Eggman comes to terms with his own loneliness and is willing to sacrifice himself to save the world not just because he wants to rule it but because he has someone to care about

Missed opportunity for a "Sayonara, Shadow the Hedgehog"

I know it's still a family friendly movie but it's odd that Tom got kicked by an enraged hedgehog moving at the speed of light and all he got was an arm in a sling

The mid-credits scene got me hyped. I can't wait to see who they have voicing Amy. And I like the decision to have an army of Metal Sonics

I hope the next movie explores more about where the animal characters come from because we really don't know much. I'm guessing whoever is behind the Metal Army is from there

Post-credits scene, of course Shadow lived but I'm hyped to see what direction they take that in. Are they gonna do the amnesia thing or will he just be stranded somewhere?

I know that using Chaos Control requires an emerald and the movies established that the Chaos Emeralds are held within the Master Emerald but it sucks they never said it except for in the Shadow Generations DLC. So uh 0/5, do better

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+ Omegaverse Part 3

cw: isolation, cold weather, injuries, lovely things, overprotective price. mature language. angst.

Omegaverse Parts: Part One + Part Two + Part Three

wc: 1311

Price noticed you were no longer on the base, all that working trying to find you all gone to waste because of General Shepard. His frustration grew each day you were gone. Each day you weren’t around the four. Did it matter that it was only a week? Fuck no.

What did the General hope would happen? Delay the inevitable? What kind of foolish man did they take Price for? When he found out you were sent down from a helicopter in the dead of night to Siberia? His blood began to boil. His temper began to rise higher levels.

The man was a monster, and you were his latest victim. The medical results came in. Not that you would ever get the chance to see them. To know what you are. Why people were so keen on taking you or killing you, or both. Not just a weapon, either.

“You can’t do that. You have no right to enforce that. It’s against protocol to send out an unknown operative.” Price argued. He tried making him see the error of his actions. He had to. Not many others were willing to stand up for you. He had to save you.

“Protocol can go to hell, Price. She’s special. The intel says so. We need her. And I will do whatever it takes to ensure she’s safe and on our side. Even if it means throwing her to the wolves and seeing if she comes back to us. That’s an order, Captain!” Shepard’s voice was cold, final. The conversation was over.

The medical evaluation you received years before your imposed, forced exile had always eluded you. Your results never even reached your own hands. They left you there in the middle of the forest with your Barrett M82, SIG Sauer P226, colt python, and a Bowie knife made from Damascus steel. 

Siberia wasn’t meant to be kind nor loving to you. It was supposed to have killed you long ago. They assumed you would be dead by now. Hoped to be rid of you by now. A detriment to what they wanted. Too much of an improbable, uncontrollable unknown. A freak.

The log cabin you made into your home was relatively small, easy to miss, and hard to find within the gusts often sweeping across the snowy landscape. The trees keeping the location of the log cabin a hushed secret. A stone fireplace and varying large cast iron pots and pans. 

Stolen from military vehicles you spotted along the road to a base in the area. Indirectly helping task force 141 from afar. Nikolai said, “Looks like some of their supplies were taken, no signs of a struggle, no signs of combat, and whoever it is. Knew exactly what to take.”

Captain Price remarked incredulously as he frowned deeply, “What do you mean by taken? Nikolai, they’re either stolen or they’re lost. It can’t be any more or any less simple than that. I don’t think ghosts exist to steal supplies from the back of enemy trucks. We would know otherwise.”

“Oh, but Captain, the world is a mysterious place, full of secrets and unexplained occurrences. Maybe, just maybe, there is something, or someone, out there we haven’t accounted for.” Nikolai cooed a little too cryptically for his own good. Possibly even too mysteriously for Soap’s liking. Like he knew more.

The snap of the bear trap's claws clamping onto your leg set out by Nikolai, “See? The little mouse came out to play.” He set out a nice steak within enough reach to tempt you. Purposefully trying to make you do something stupid enough to try stealing it from him.

Price managed to take a closer look at you, Nikolai’s mouse, who bit Price for trying to touch you without consent. Feeling your wolf like teeth into his hand. Digging into his flesh, not hard enough to break bones. But hard enough to leave behind a deep enough bruise.

Your jaw locked in, making it impossible for him to remove his hand. With every movement of his met with a low growl ripping through your throat. Refusing to let go. Price didn’t know what to think. But Nikolai seemed to have his thumbs up, soap and are distressed. Where’s Ghost?

Who knew ghost would be the one to find your log cabin first? There he was. Standing outside your log cabin, staring at the crate you were parachuted down from the military helicopter. Smelling your intense sweet smell of your previous heat. The scent still remaining on the fur blankets.

The place you still go into when your heat comes around again. Tally marks along the walls marking how many times your ‘heat’ came around. The thick, soft fur blankets soaking in the hot water in the giant metal tub in the shed. Which also served as your bath tub. 

Learning your scent could attract far more dangerous predators than you. You bathed once a day when you weren’t in heat. Twice a day during the period of your heat. Once in the morning, and once in the evening. As you found it to be rather productive for your benefit.

Price sniffed around the crate you used to live in before shifting to your cabin permanently. The scent of yours is stronger than any of theirs. Their combined scent could match it. But singularly? No. They’d be drowned inside your scent with enough ease. Like a Megalodon swallowing someone whole.

“I can’t believe we missed this. This is a fucking goldmine.” He whispered to himself. “Nikolai! Soap! We’re not the only ones who know she’s here. She’s been living here, right under our nose!” He waved his comrades over, getting their attention and to come closer to what he found. 

Their footsteps grew louder as they approached. Soap’s eyes widened as he saw the state of your living conditions. The way you’ve adapted. The way you’ve survived. It’s a miracle, really. “How long have you been out here?” He asked, his voice filled with a mix of amazement and horror.

You were patching your leg up and bathing in hot water, hoping to sterilise and clean the wound. It was the sight of your naked body that made them rather peculiar. You were a miracle wrapped inside the cold, tendency to bite people’s hands if they touched you without consent.

Your clothes discarded into the corner of your cabin. Soaking in cold water to get the blood from your clothes. The atmosphere of your log cabin, warmer than what you felt on the inside. After the stitches, your leg is wrapped in clean cloth. You were about to get dressed.

The door slammed open like the gusts of wind came through like a shout rather than a soft, sultry whisper. The four of them must have found you quicker than you suspected. Another 12 months living, surviving, on your own. 

The first to enter your cabin was someone you didn’t expect to see again. Considering the two of you yelled at each other like you wanted to rip each other’s throat out. “What the fuck do you want?” You spat, your teeth still clenched from the pain of your wound.

“To bring you back. You’re in no state to be alone, you’re in no state to be left to pick up leftovers to live off again. I don’t want to hear your protests because frankly, I don’t care. You’re coming with us.” Price's voice was firm, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes as he stepped into the cabin, the warmth of the fireplace hitting him like a welcoming embrace.

You stared at him. Shocked. In total state of shock. Price heard the meek, “I can go back now?” Soap helped you get dressed and patched up. Ghost packed up your things, because he knew it was valuable

[tumblingxelian]

CRWBY & the White Fang - To Critique or Compliment?

There's no denying that when discussions of RWBY's quality come up, the specter of the White Fang, Blake & Faunus plot lines will almost inevitably rear their head.

So, I wanted to take some time to analyze my own critiques of CRWBY;s handling of these subjects, which thee writers themselves have said they found fault in regarding their work.

But, to also outline what I think was done well and address some common complains that I see, as I think there is a much more nuanced discussion that could be happening here.

With that in mind, lets begin:

My issues lie in the Execution:

CRWBY simply don't have the budget or time to give this topic the necessary breathing room to be handled with as much nuance as it needs; which at times can lead to a subject not being explore sufficiently, or a bit like in Mistral, a seemingly easy solution being applied to a complex issue. 

While I understood the logic of having Sienna supplanted as she was, and the tragedy of her death. The loss of her character and a more active counterweight to Ghira's pacifism has weakened a lot of the stronger aspects of their writing on this topic.

The plot of the series while allowing for the exploration of some of the themes at play means that in universe, characters need to logically prioritize the apocalypse witch over other matters sometimes.

My Praise is in the details:  

Faunus bigotry varies from regions to regions & country to country, in Vale it's heavily rooted in microaggressions, harassments and presumptions of guilt. In Mistrals its not only legalized to discriminate against Faunus, but there are outright lynch mobs. Meanwhile in Atlas it is blended with heavy doses of classism and the impoverished of Mantle are placed against the impoverished Faunus in the crater. 

The writers consistently acknowledge that this is a complicated issue, not in the sense of "Ooh poor bigot has a reason to be that way" but in the sense of "Fighting for a better world is hard, complicated work, where there is no a neat and tidy ending, or simple solution." Which is frankly far more realistic than I see in a lot of media that want to cap off stories with "& then bigotry was solved!" 

While Ghira has been returned to a prominent role, he outright respected Sienna Khan, and acknowledged the faults in his all too passive approached in the past. It also seems that thematically Blake is the one being set up to eventually take the reigns of the movement and seek out a path between easily exploitable militarism and all too self effacing pacificism.

Counters to Common Complaints: 

The White Fang are presented as faceless mooks -  This is indeed an issue in Volumes 1 through 3, however, it is also one CRWBY course corrected on, and I'd note Blake is also meant to be our primary window into the White Fang. What's more, the radicalization of the White Fang took time, with Sienna's era notably having actually seen genuine progress for Faunus, before Adam ended it in fire and blood.

What's more, if we look at resistance movements like the real world IRA, we will see that they too can start out using moderated violence, only to be co opted by self serving despots who harm their own people as well as others, so their shift is not exactly unrealistic.

Making a victim like Adam a villain is in poor taste -  A questionable claim as I think that is all down to execution and he's hardly the only character like that, & there's many others who overcame similar issues, so tis hardly "Abuse makes you evil."

But more to the point, given how a lot of people who have dealt with abusive stalkers, including those who weaponized their own history of abuse or trauma for sympathy said he was the most realistic portrayal of an abuser they've seen, I think there's a great deal of merit to his portrayal.

I would also note that the philosophical stance, "X person was a victim and therefore cannot be bad" is a poor and rather problematic idea. Because there is no demographic of person that makes one incapable of causing harm. Plus, Adam's life and death is still framed as a tragedy, despite all the harm he did, his life still had innate worth even to the people he hurt most.

(Well, the one's still alive anyway XD)

The White Fang being antagonists is corporate/military apologia -  I already addressed most of this above, but I wanted to re-center it because I had some interesting thoughts to share. Specifically how in another show this would be true, but it's not true in RWBY.

Because in most shows where the freedom fighters/terrorists are villainized, the institutions they target are propped up and defended, where its claimed, even if they are "flawed" they are "better", "Necessary", or more "well meaning" than the rebels.

Not true in RWBY

The SDC is every bit as bad as it's advertised, and Jac outright enables the villains in a selfish bid for power to protect his own wealth. Ironwood, who in other shows would be the "Good military man" type, reveals himself to be a craven coward and despot.

Ironwood and Adam's character songs even hit on the same themes of egotism and entitlement. Adam's is angrier & Ironwood's more grandiose because of their respective life experience, but they are men cut from a very similar cloth & playing similar roles amongst their peers and in the wider narrative.

Blake was originally a street kid, her being a princess is bad- That's not true in both cases and I appreciate CRWBY subverting the tired trope of "Violent minority girl gets saved and civilized by nice Caucasian girls" the post below goes into more detail on that: https://www.tumblr.com/kkglinka/176246425849/rwby-racial-trope-inversion?source=share 

Conclusion:

Ultimately, RWBY grew beyond, explored or outright subverted a lot of the usual issues that come attached with these complaints and had a lot more nuanced stuff to say on the subjects they tackled.

Even with their issues in tackling these subjects, I feel that there is much more interesting stuff to talk about than a lot of what I usually see come up when this subject comes around, which is a shame.

There's room to acknowledge where there were flaws without tearing down the entire concept, or glossing over what was done well, I think.