#but for once. verna was right.

[rassicas]

I could imagine Cress or Verna going through a Emo phase in their teen years.

oh my god yeah fuck it ill finally make it canon

it was incredibly short lived. he still listened to the music though.

[cavegirlpoems]

A story from back when I played D&D. It might have been 3.5 or pathfinder or fantasycraft or one of that ilk. Might even have been 4e. It was like a decade ago.

So. Standard D&D. A party of bold adventurers of diverse origins and skillsets gets together to explore a perilous dungeon and stop a cartoonish baddy. The usual.

I end up building a fairly typical character for me. A goblin Rogue/Assassin. A stealth/melee build designed to get the drop on an enemy, do a bunch of rapid damage, and then fuck off.

She was lawful evil, and firmly in the team-fortress-two-sniper school of "You know who has a lot of feelings? Men what bludgeon their wives to death with a golf trophy. Professionals have standards." school of being a mercenary. I think I even did an aussie accent.

Anyway her schtick was that she'd noticed 'Adventurers' got to do as much violence as they wanted without social consequences, and she loved violence! So she was gonna do a stint as an adventurer, so once she was done she could go home with a big sack of gold to spend on booze and cake and hot girls. But right now she was on the job, so she was an extremely professional team player with a strict code of conduct. Always be honest with the team, follow the plan, don't mess things up for the team, split the loot evenly. Standards.

Verna was a horrible efficient little murder gremlin who was also proudly guild-certified. * * *

Now, another PC was a chaotic neutral gnome bard who was leaning hard on the 'gnomes are amusingly racist to goblins and kobolds and think this is funny and endearing' thing. He teased Verna a bunch about being green and ugly, which she studiously ignored because - remember - she had Professional Standards.

Anyway, there was a human NPC we met that she didn't like, saying he was a bit stupid and very annoying. Our gnome bard decided it would be very funny to use one of his enchantment spells to make Verna suddenly horny for him and watch what happened.

Verna sees the gnome who keeps fucking with her walk up, wave his hands and babble some arcane nonsense, and now she has weird funny feelings she can't explain. She does some thinking and concludes that she'll pay the human for a snog later, because right now this guy's just obviously cast a spell to mess with her mind, which was Not Okay. Of course, she had Professional Standards, so...

She walks up to our gnome friend and basically informs him: "Hi! I know you just did some magical brainwashing on me, and I am not going to tolerate this! However, because we're in a team together, and I don't want this to become a problem, I am going to very generously allow you to settle the matter with me. We will have a bout of single combat to first blood, and then whoever wins I will consider the matter settled and my honour satisfied, and you won't do that again, and we won't mention it. This is a very kind offer of mine, because I have Standards; where I come from the normal response would be to say nothing and strangle you in your sleep tonight."

And our gnome, who is a spellcaster not a combatant, looks at this and decides he doesn't want to get shown up by her, and basically tells her that if she doesn't like getting messed with she can go back to the goblin village, and laughs at her.

So. Shrug. Quickdraw as a free action. I get a surprise round. You're flat footed, so it's easy to hit and I get sneak attack damage. 3/4 of his health is gone. Initiative. He says he wants to say sorry. I respond that he can say that when it gets to his initiative count, but right now it's my action and he's still flat-footed and here's my big pile of d6s for sneak attack and oh dear I think that's him on -10 hp, so he's not going to get the chance.

* * *

Anyway this kicked off a massive shitstorm ooc about how I just kicked off PvP and murdered a PC for no reason and the game fell apart because the gnome's player genuinely didn't seem to understand that 'mind control' is a hostile action. This was in the bad old days before safety tools and I was playing in a fairly neckbeardy group, so 'a man makes a woman horny against her will to humiliate her and laughs about it' was apparently not a deal-breaker while 'the woman stabs him for it' was.

I still think I wasn't the bad guy in this scenario.

There is no point to this story I just wanted to share it.

[where-dreams-dwell]

Roderick Usher is such a good bait and switch of a villain! You spend most of the show watching his ‘downfall’ and corruption, knowing that he’s going to become the monster Dupin knows him as. But you still want to believe he can’t be all that bad, and he somehow knows this and plays right into it until the very end

Roderick is telling his story and peppers it with all these asides and moments that make the audience feel some sympathy for him. That make us believe he either has good intentions beneath everything else, or originally had them and was corrupted by power.

He implies he truly didn’t know Ligodone was addictive: he tells Dupin ‘you belive the chemist when he you tells you the drug they made isn’t addictive, you trust your company not to abuse the use of that drug’. He reminds Dupin (and by extension the audience) that he ‘didn’t make the damn thing, I just sold it’. And then it cuts to show that the drug company was originally acquired by Roderick’s predecessor as CEO, who took his pitch for a pain free world and ran with it. This makes the audience feel some small sympathy for Roderick: not enough to think he’s a victim in anyway but it worms in there and makes him not as monstrous as he was a moment ago. It implies he is not solely to blame.

The audience see’s (we think) Roderick getting corrupted and swayed to the dark side of corporate greed. Brilliantly they show Roderick in present day acting in ways that seem in character for what we have learnt about him, and then flash back to the 70’s to reveal that those lines or attitudes where originally those of the old CEO who Roderick *hated*. It appears as if pure innocent and trusting Roderick who runs straight at injustice has been corrupted by the old CEO, has become the monster or villain that he once hated. It’s a small tragedy mixed in with a busy narrative but it impacts the audiences view of who Roderick once was. We interpret this as an originally good if naive man corrupted by power and wealth. Coupled with all those scenes in the 70’s of Madeline being more emotionless and pragmatic, pushing Roderick to be more manipulative and strategic, it appears as if he has been ‘forced’ or ‘groomed’ into his role against his original intentions. Part of the scenes we then spent in the 70’s is spent quietly mourning this version of Roderick, as we know it doesn’t survive his ascension.

But there are enough moments to imply that Roderick is still being an unreliable narrator. When Dupin first apologised for faking an informant, saying he feels that his lie had some role in the death of his children, Roderick’s first response is to run with that false impression. The way he responds to Dupin’s apology sounds like he’s gearing up to lay into him about his role in Roderick a children’s death, to double down and agree that Dupin does bear some blame for how they died.

And then one of his dead children appear to him. They make him pause, collect himself, and acknowledge what Roderik knows to be true: Dupin’s lie had no bearing on their death (his deal with Verna is the reason they’re dead) and any impact of that lie on their final fate is solely due to Roderick believing it and then placing a bounty on the supposed informants head. He turned his kids against one another, Dupin’s lie was just the vehicle. Roderik only voices this when he is forced to by his literal ghosts.

There are several moments when it appears his dead children are ‘keeping him honest’. When he’s getting off topic Perry or Leo appear to shock him and remind him to keep telling their stories. When he tries to downplay his part in the creation of Ligodone and argue that the horrors of its addiction are actually due to a street derivative which ‘hasn’t been FDA approved’ Camille’s appears behind him to force him to reconsider and eventually interrupts him so abruptly he trows a glass at her. When he’s lamenting Frederiks death and remembering him as a child not an adult (the last time Roderick was any kind of father to him) Fredrick takes over child/Frederick’s body to remind him of how he died and to get back to the story. It’s almost like he’s saying ‘you don’t get to remember me like this, you don’t get to miss remember and pick and chose: this is how I died and it’s because of you so keep going’. It’s only in hindsight so we realise this was Roderick trying to subconsciously control the narrative and change this confession, to reframe his actions and those deaths. And the kids didn’t let him get away with it.

Even Juno as a narrative device helps to hide Roderik’s rotten centre: she is such a bluntly honest and sincere person, she lends a little credence of honesty to Roderick. We think he must have some small good in him (albeit wrapped up in all the ‘old enough to be Juno’s father, makes the opioid she’s addicted to, doesn’t defend her from family cruelty’ BS of his ‘love’) as she is devoted to and loves him. Plus when we first meet her he states he loves her, he is always shown to be gently affectionate towards her, and even claims she is one of his ‘two favourite ladies’ along with his granddaughter who we know he dotes upon. But then at the very end his twisted horror show of devotion is revealed: anything close to love he holds for Juno is warped by her being a living totem of his product, something he can point to and use to further his cause. Juno is an object to him, one he enjoys complete control over. He has never seen her as a person in her own right, just a doll/puppet to prop up his drug empire, and he can’t separate her or his feelings for her from the drug she is dependant upon.

Added to this, towards the end of the show we discover that this ‘unburdening’ of Roderiks sins, this confession to a litany of crimes, which will give Dupin closure for both his life’s work and answers to Roderick’s betrayal of him in the 70’s… that isn’t even Roderick’s idea! Verna told him to confess. Even at the end Roderick isn’t mending bridges of his own volition.

And then his final revelation: he’s been lying the whole time, maybe his whole life, to everyone. He had always know people would die to ensure his success, that he would have to climb over ‘a mountain of bodies’ to get to the top and it never once made him pause. He wasn’t corrupted, he didn’t get poisoned by the old CEO and his views, he didn’t change to take on more of Madeleine’s views. He just noticed the best way to get work done and adapted.

Dupin had it right from the start: the only good that he ever saw in Roderik was a reflection of Annabelle lee’s. Like the moon has no inherent light of its own, Roderik hid his darkness behind the strength of Annabelle’s goodness until the time came when she couldn’t shine on him anymore. And he was revealed for the empty dead husk he had always been.

And Annabelle even said it herself, when then kids chose Roderick over her. They were starving and he told them to gorge themselves but he could never actually feed them, because he had nothing real to offer. Empty through and through, and just. So. Small.

[colormepurplex2]

Beneath The Boughs | Dare To Dream

↳ Namjoon x f.Reader ⤜ Robinhood Retelling, Strangers to Lovers/Soulmates, Ruined Arranged Marriage AU ⤜ Rating: MA🔞 ⤜ WC: 6,740 ⚠️violence, crass language, mentions of parental illness, melancholy feelings

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to story masterlist

“My Lady,” Ms. Duckett calls from beyond the doors of the balcony terrace. “My Lady, it is time. If we do not leave now, we will not make it through this side of Sherwood before nightfall.”

You sigh with one last look out over the rolling expanse of bleak countryside. You push to your feet and smooth your gloved hands over the back of your gown, brushing away any detritus that might have attached to the fabric from the bench you were seated on. The heavy silk skirts swish over the layers of your thick wool petticoats as you turn to make your way back inside.

The first flurries of winter have begun, and unless you wish to spend the season shivering in the northern reaches of Yorkshire, you best get on with it. The window to return to the city of Nottingham is closing swiftly. It was a fool's move to leave it until the last moment anyway. But you couldn’t bring yourself to rejoin society sooner than absolutely necessary.

“Apologies, Duckie,” you offer her, the childhood nickname you gave her rolling off your tongue with affection despite your surly mood.

Verna Duckett has been your attending maid ever since your mother fell ill some twenty years prior and found herself with more need for a nursemaid than a lady’s maid. Duckie’s age is a mystery to you, but considering the silver knot tucked under her bonnet, you’d guess she was far older than her spry body and fiery attitude suggest.

Thinking of your mother’s continued ailing constitution only sours your demeanor further. After all, it is why you’ve found yourself in the predicament you are currently trying to avoid. So, to keep from dawdling further with those dark thoughts, you focus on gathering the fox-fur-lined cloak you left draped over the end of your bed and securing its thick golden clasp at your throat.

Duckie titters under her breath, reminding you of a flittering songbird as she encourages you from the room. “The sheriff is waiting with the carriages.”

That news pulls you up short at the top of the grand staircase. “The sheriff?”

“Indeed so, My Lady. He has come up from Nottingham to be your escort at the request of Prince Seokjin.”

Bile threatens to rise from the churning pit of your stomach. The Prince. “Must it be so?” you mutter to yourself. “Right,” you try to clear the disappointment from your voice as you begin the descent down the stairs. “Let us not keep him waiting long, then.”

The bite from the snowy northern winds does little to soothe the blazing tempest in your chest as you breeze through the open doors of the home you’ve kept for the summer in Yorkshire. It was once your father’s estate, passed down to you when you came of age. You prefer it to the oppressive halls of the inner city home you keep in Nottingham—the one your parents choose to reside in year-round.

“My Lady.” The sheriff greets you by way of an oily smile and a tip of his chin. “Trying to catch a cold before your big day?”

A snide remark forms on the tip of your tongue but you bite the offending appendage before it can garner you trouble over the next two days of travel. The absolute last thing you wish for right now is to land on Yoongi’s—the sheriff’s—bad side.

It’s possible you might have once considered him a friend. He has all the charm and grace of a pleasant gentleman. But, when he started to bow and scrape, doing the Prince’s bidding in forcing your hand, you lost all respect and good will towards him.

You’re aware that’s not exactly fair, considering Yoongi is merely a sheriff, and the prince is, well, a prince. But it simply is not fair, and you are more than aware of the other dealings the prince and Yoongi have gotten up to in the recent years since King Seokjoong went on his crusades.

Mirth twinkles in Yoongi’s eyes; clearly, he can see the restraint painted all over your face. “Of course not, My Lord—I mean, Sheriff,” you reply, your words dripping with saccharinity. His lips flatten at your intentional misuse of the title.

Yoongi is as much a Lord as you are a pigeon. And you know that rankles him far more than any snide remark you might have bestowed upon him. Being the Sheriff of Nottingham brings Yoongi power, but not nearly enough to satiate his growing greed. That much is evident in how he swindles and ousts any and all meager bits of coinage from the pockets of those he is sworn to protect. No, Yoongi protects only himself…and occasionally you, per the prince’s request.

The ride to Nottingham starts slow and ponderous, the snow turning to sleet with each creeping mile south, causing the dirt under hoof and wheel to quickly form ruts and mud pits that suck and pull, sapping any haste from the procession.

Duckie was being generous in her assessment of time, as by the time the sun drops below the horizon, your caravan escort has barely hit the outskirts of Sherwood. You know it was unwise to have spent so long avoiding the ride; this is your own doing.

It’s not that you mind the forest at night; it’s just that the swaying oil lamps and guttering torches do little to diminish the darkness. Every creak of the carriage and distant animal chitter have you quite literally on the edge of your seat, the velvet cushion firmly crushed under your hands where they fist the lip of the bench.

The sudden, jarring stop of the carriage nearly unseats you. Muffled shouts sound from beyond the drawn curtains. Duckie frowns, absently pulling a handkerchief from her apron pocket and fanning her ample bosom with it.

“Dreadful luck stopping in these cursed woods,” she mutters nervously before flicking back the edge of one of the curtains and peeking out the window. “What in heavens is going on out there?”

She jumps back, her alarmed yelp echoing through the carriage as Yoongi jerks open the door. “My Lady, I apologize for the delay. There is some debris across the roadway. It should only take a moment for it to be moved, and then we shall be on our way once more. I think it best we continue through the night,” he says with a grimace as his focus is pulled somewhere back beyond the carriage.

Without another word, he disappears, shutting you and Duckie in the carriage once more. The silence is only broken by the soft swishing of Duckie’s handkerchief as she goes back to fanning herself.

“Not to worry, dearie. I’m sure the Sheriff will have us back on the move in no time.”

Adrenaline courses through your veins when muffled shouts and screams rend through the air, breaking the tense silence. You catch the faintest bellow from the head of the caravan.

“Brigands! Brigands in the trees! To arms!”

Duckie shrieks, her handkerchief fluttering in the air as she lurches toward you. The air wooshes from your lungs as she drags you bodily into the bottom of the carriage and throws herself on top of you. 

One of her elbows catches you in the chin as you try to turn over, your skirts tangling around your ankles with each struggling movement.

“Duckie!” you croak, sucking in pitiful gasps of air. The corset stays pinching at your ribs, combined with the full weight of your maid laid across your back, are making it hard to gain the breath that was shoved from your lungs when you hit the carriage floor. “I cannot breathe!”

She wails something unintelligible and pushes up onto her knees. You flop over onto your back and suck in a sweet lungful of air. Your exhale is an aching sputter that turns into a fit of coughing. Suddenly, the air inside the carriage is too hot and thick.

“My Lady!” Duckie’s bark of protest follows you out of the carriage. You couldn’t reach your feet fast enough, scrambling up from your knees and shoving open the carriage door, stumbling out several steps. You stand there, plunged into the cacophony around you, trying valiantly to suck in fresh air.

The night is alive with pain and shrieks of madness. Chaos engulfs your small caravan, and there are scattered pockets of struggle everywhere you look. Figures dressed in various shades of dark green and brown are engaged with the bright reds and golds of the Prince’s colors.

As if wanting to bear witness to the violence, the moon has worked its way through the gloomy cloud cover overhead and lends its light to the smoking oil lanterns and torches to illuminate the mud-churned—now striped with blood—road.

A sneering face comes into focus, startling you back a step. “Are you mad, woman!? Get back in the carriage!” Yoongi roars before taking off back into the fray.

He meets the swing of a brigand's sword with his own; the clash of steel against steel rings through the air, further jolting you from your frozen state. Panic harries you as you retreat further, your eyes on a constant swivel for danger.

A gout of flame flares to life near the head of the line of carriages, and the screams of horses pierce the din. “Fire! The horses!” thunders a voice that is soon swallowed by the frenzy of other sounds.

You watch in horror as a carriage engulfed in flame careens off the road, being dragged through the sticky muck by out-of-control horses. Their fear is palpable, the flames devouring the front coach seat and licking so close to their tails.

The painful whickering of the beautiful draft horses draws you like a moth being led directly to the inferno. You’re heedless of the danger around you. One sole focus consumes you; no one is available to free those horses…if you don’t do it, they’ll surely die.

Once again, your feet move before you can do more than register Duckie’s protesting cries from behind you. You fist the billows of your skirt in your hands, hiking up the thick material, making your reckless sprint a little easier, though the churned mud still sucks at the soles of your slippers, which are soon filled with icy water and slimy muck.

“My Lady!” Duckie’s cry follows you, closer than before. “Please, My Lady, no!”

“The horses, Duckie! We have to help them!” you beg, skittering to a stop in the muck, arms windmilling to keep yourself upright.

Whether or not she heard your desperate plea or simply followed you out of an attempt to get you to turn back toward the carriage, she stumbles to a stop beside you as you take in the carnage.

The carriage that caught fire was one of the ones lit with the hanging lanterns. Arrows dot the wooden side, which is now facing the sky. The entire thing has turned over in the muck from the mad dash of the horses combined with the sticky mud. It’s evident an arrow hit one of the lanterns and caused the fire. Whether by accident or intentional, the damage is done, and your time is running out as the flames lick across the carriage and shoot toward the sky.

A massive tangle of leather hitching straps and splintered wood connects the two draft horses to the wreckage. They rear and scream, massive hooves raking the sky as they thrash and pull in vain at their harnesses.

Ignoring the sapping cold of the mud seeping through the skirts of your gown, you throw yourself on the ground where the straps attach to the overturned carriage. Duckie lands in the muck beside you a second later, her hands moving as frantically as your own as you wrestle with the buckles and bolts. The entire wreck shudders every time the horses stomp and attempt to free themselves, but you don’t dare abandon the buckles to try and calm them. You’d likely catch an errant hoof to your person for the efforts.

Heat beats down on you, and the faint stench of burnt hair and singed fabric mixes with the acrid stink of smoke filling the air around you. The flames are growing closer, but you ignore the discomfort, pouring all your focus into freeing the horses.

“To your right!” a voice calls out over the din of battle a second before something thunks heavily into the ground beside you.

You spare a glance up, and your eyes catch on a hooded figure. Time suspends in a moment of what you can only describe as magick. Something flickers in your chest as your eyes meet the ones staring out from the cowl, like a blossoming flower opening under the warm spring sun for the first time.

It’s captivating, soul-capturing, and utterly unexplainable. Dark, seemingly endless eyes, inky hair, and a face you’re sure you’ve never seen in full before…yet know more intimately than even your own—a man of your dreams. Dreams you’ve had since you were a young teenager of a man with eyes like endless pools of night sky and a heart that beats in kind with your own.

A frantic cry from Duckie breaks the spell, the carriage shifting so violently it rocks you backward onto your bottom. You tear your eyes away from the mysterious man. Focusing back on the task at hand, you grasp the hilt of the forearm-length blade you know he’s responsible for tossing to you. It is embedded point-down in the ground by your side, still vibrating from the force.

Ripping the blade from the mud, you make quick work of slicing through the harness straps. The horses burst free from their restraints and take off at a panicked gallop away from the fire raging behind you.

Quiet sobs are hiccuping from Duckie. She grabs a fistful of the back of your gown and jerks. “Go!” But instead of directing you back toward your carriage, her momentum sends you sprawling in the direction of the closest darkened clutch of trees. “We need to hide! Hurry, to the trees!”

Digging for purchase in the icy muck, you lurch to your feet and stumble until the forest's darkness gobbles you up. Duckie is only a pace or two behind you, her mud-covered bosom heaving as she slumps down behind a knotted and gnarled tree.

Wordlessly, she beckons for you to join her, and you both sit there, peering around the side of the tree and back at the chaos still engulfing your caravan. The fighting has died down. A few green and brown-clad bodies writhe on the ground, making your stomach protest the senseless violence.

Broken crates and boxes lie scattered about, their insides spilled and pilfered through by the brigands—clearly a band of no-good highwaymen. It’s one of the main reasons the Sherwood Forest should be avoided after dark. Bands of rogues and disgraced knights have taken to prowling the thick woods.

As sour as your thoughts are, you can’t help searching the fray for a particular hooded figure. You feel like if you could get one more glimpse of him, you might be able to decipher what happened when your eyes met his. At the moment, you could have sworn he was the man of your dreams, but now, you’re not so sure. There is far too much adrenaline coursing through your system for you to make heads from tails of it.

You watch as one of the brigands uses the pommel of their sword to clock one of your escorts across the temple, crumpling him into a heap of red and gold. Focusing on each pitched cluster of violence, you realize the red and gold figures are the only ones trying to deal lethal blows. You’ve watched enough tournaments of combat to know the basics of battle.

“They’re not trying to kill them,” you mutter under your breath.

“What, My Lady?”

Sparing a glance at Duckie, you nod back toward the road. “The brigands. They’re not using lethal moves. It is as if they are intentionally avoiding critical damage. Like they…” you trail off, catching sight of a familiar hooded figure, glinting eyes shadowed in the cowl latching on yours.

“You cannot possibly be suggesting—”

“Behind you!” you scream, lurching from your hiding spot and sprinting back toward the road where you saw Yoongi creeping up behind the hooded figure as he was distracted, staring at you.

Branches scratch and rip at your gown and the exposed skin of your throat and hands. But the stinging lashes are second to the intense panic slicing through your chest as Yoongi’s bloodied sword arcs through the air.

By the time you spill from the cover of the trees, the cloaked man is springing up from a roll where he must have dodged Yoongi’s blade. You watch as he spins to face Yoongi. He brings a hand up, and an ear-splitting whistle pierces the air.

As if the sound has broken a dam, the dozen remaining hooded figures, including the one with those molten eyes locked on you, disengage and retreat. They dissolve into the surrounding trees like fog baked away by a noonday sun; there one moment and gone the next.

Yoongi barks an order to pursue, and half the remaining gold and red soldiers peel off to follow. They look like a ragtag bunch, their armor speckled with dark mud and blood. But, you know they have received extensive training under the tutelage of Yoongi and the Prince’s court mage and will try to track down as many of the brigands as they can like the good hunting dogs they are.

“Yoongi, please, call them back!” you plead. “The wood is dark. It is not worth it! Please, I beg you, let us hurry—”

The narrowing of Yoongi’s eyes causes your words to catch in your throat. You’ve never seen such a venomous glare. It pierces right through your heart, spearing you in place. You think he is about to lay into you, lashing at you with that curdling tongue. Yet, he just nods, turning away and stalking from you before whistling a sharp cadence that you recognize is used to call the guards back.

“My Lady,” Duckie sniffles. “Oh, your gown. This simply won’t do. Come, come, back to the carriage.”

She ushers you quickly back toward the open door of your carriage, the horses tethered to the front, finally calming their stamping hooves and wild eyes.

“Move out!” Yoongi shouts. The guards who had peeled off to follow the brigands emerge back into the clearing, and in a few short minutes, the caravan moves once again—albeit a few carriages short, the carnage left behind like a pock on the King’s Road.

🍂🍂🍂

Namjoon

There were too many.

Too many uniforms of red and gold and sharpened swords.

It was a bad call.

No amount of coin is worth the bodies that were left behind in the mud. Namjoon knows he shouldn’t have encouraged the men. He should have put his foot down and been firm in his insistence that they hold back.

But, there’s naught to do for it now except lick their wounds and hope the amount of coins and jewels they got off with can fill their larders against the coming winter. The bags seemed heavy enough, but one can never be too sure until they actually begin to count and weigh it out.

The men seem happy enough. Their jovial shouts and laughter carry through the woods, adrenaline adding to the thrill of it as they all easily lope along under the darkening boughs.

The dense foliage overhead absorbs their merriment, and Namjoon doesn’t wish to take it away from them by asking them to quiet down. He realized that the Sheriff called off his dogs shortly after anyway—a surprise for sure and a welcomed one at that.

“How many did we lose?”  Hoseok asks, pitching his voice low so others don’t hear. His long legs trot along, keeping pace with ease beside Namjoon.

Namjoon frowns, huffing a breath as they jog in silence for a few moments. “Five.” He rattles off their names, hating how each one coats his tongue with a bitterness that nothing but the most potent fyre ale will be able to staunch.

“We will honor them and ensure their families are taken care of,” Hoseok offers, his voice hollow but firm. He’s always been a softer guy, something Namjoon has cherished in all their years of friendship. Hoseok has helped to temper Namjoon’s anger and quell his intensity at dire times of need; he is an empath through and through.

Not trusting himself to say more, Namjoon just nods as they continue through the woods until they reach their destination.

It’s a hidden city—a village, really. But everyone likens it to a city, considering it stretches across nearly an entire league of forest, tucked into the upper branches of the trees. It’s a proverbial city of wooden treehouses and rope bridges spanning between platforms. They have nearly everything a city does, even a bakery and a small darning shop.

The only thing not within the hidden city in the tops of the trees is the smithy—too much of a fire hazard, of course. So, Jungkook has his forge and the bellows tucked away into the crumbling remains of an ancient fortress long forgotten in the woods.

As an exiled knight of the crown, Jungkook knows his way around weaponry. It wasn’t that far of a leap to smithing once he got the hang of it. Namjoon can just see the glow of the forge fire as his band approaches, the approaching call having been whistled just a moment before.

It’s safer like that, using mimicry of bird calls as signals. He learned early on that you can never be too careful. The last thing Namjoon wants is for someone to come across his home…his people, the outcasts and the damned.

“I’m going to check in with Jungkook. Be up shortly,” Namjoon tells Hoseok before veering off towards the old ruins.

Hoseok disappears into the foliage, rallying the band up the rope ladders to the hidden homes above, where most of their families wait. Despite how ramshackle and hodgepodge his little city is, there is beauty in it, too. Beauty in the families, the small children that have spent more of their lives living among the leaves of trees than on the ground. But at least they’re safe; that’s what matters most.

That and the food from the coin they managed to loot tonight will garner.

That’s the primary reason he needs to speak with Jungkook. Being an exiled knight, the man not only knows his way around weaponry, but he has a knack for trading and brokering deals as well.

Despite his exile, Jungkook is still respected among many of the Prince’s men. With a well-placed word and an extra coin or two, Jungkook can get just about anything Namjoon needs.

There is a chill in the air, but the forge is blistering hot, the heat reflecting off the stone ruins' few remaining walls. Namjoon thinks this particular nook of rubble was once a stable—the rusted iron hitching posts lining the lower wall leads him to that conclusion.

Jungkook seems to be getting ready to shut the forge down for the night. He’s shirtless and dripping sweat with an assortment of new blades, which are laid out on the makeshift table off to the side.

“Oh! You startled me,” Jungkook huffs, a soot-covered hand slapping over his heart as he turns and spots Namjoon.

Namjoon smiles apologetically. “Sorry, brother. I was just about to announce myself.”

“It’s no matter,” Jungkook says, brushing it off. He swings around further, depositing the leather roll of tools cradled in his other arm on the table beside the new blades.

“What brings you here? I thought surely you’d be up with everyone else, filling your belly with some ale. There are still a few casks left.”

“In due time.” Namjoon shrugs, looking for something to distract from the real reason he’s come to talk to Jungkook. “Do you mind if I have one of these?” he asks, gesturing to the pile of fresh blades.

Jungkook’s eyes sweep over Namjoon, landing on the empty dagger sheath at his hip. “That’s, what, the third blade you’ve managed to lose in as many months?”

Namjoon scrubs a hand through his hair, sighing. “Yeah…there was some trouble on the road.”

Those eyes that were resting on his empty sheath now narrow into a calculating query as they rise to Namjoon’s. “How did it go?”

The tense silence lasts just a spell before Namjoon clears his throat and breaks it. “We came away with a few hefty bags.”

“But? There’s a but there, I can tell. Go on, tell me, how many did we lose?” Jungkook leans a hip against the table. He pulls out the rough-spun towel tucked into the top of his leather apron and begins to absently brush and wipe the soot and grime from his hands.

As much as Namjoon would rather talk about the trade and bartering that would come from the coin, he knew Jungkook would ask after the loss. After all, it was Jungkook’s suggestion that took Namjoon and his band of men to the edge of the forest tonight. He had heard that the Sheriff would be moving precious cargo. It turns out the precious cargo was in the form of a woman.

A fierce and brilliant woman who came rocketing into Namjoon’s life like a shooting star blazing through the night as she streaked across the impromptu battlefield to free those terrified horses. It was an accident, the errant arrow catching one of the hanging lanterns. He heard the man who loosed the arrow curse and lament over it and they both got caught up defending their backs against the Guards before they could act.

“We lost five,” Namjoon says to pull his mind out of that rabbit hole. The last thing he needs to be thinking about is the odd, visceral connection and pull he felt with that mystery woman.

Jungkook nods, his lips thinning into a straight line. “They’ll be honored by all,” he says, mirroring Hoseok’s words from earlier. “Tell me what else went on? What was so precious Yoongi disregarded all safety guards and ventured into the Wood so late?”

The words get caught in Namjoon’s throat. In part, he doesn’t want to tell Jungkook because he somehow feels possessive of the woman. It’s absurd. Forcing that notion aside, Namjoon forges on, recounting everything that transpired for Jungkook. By the time he’s done, Jungkook nods with a faint look of knowing on his face.

“For some reason, the Sheriff signaled a pullback a few minutes after the order to follow. He’s never done that before.”

“That,” Jungkook says, tucking the now-soiled rag back into the top of his apron, “would be The Fair Maiden of York’s doing.”

“Wait. The who?” Namjoon has heard of The Yorkshire Maiden. She’s renowned throughout the parts, even for someone as hidden and removed from society as Namjoon. In fact, he knows that she’s— “The Prince’s betrothed? You mean to tell me we attacked her caravan?” He mutters your name, the sweet sound of it coating his tongue like honey. “That’s who that was?” Each new line of thinking has Namjoon’s alarm rising.

“I had thought she had already ventured south. It didn’t even cross my mind that the precious cargo could have been her. In truth, I should have considered it. I’m sorry, my friend. I’ll try to get better information next time.”

Namjoon barely registers Jungkook’s words, giving him a jerky nod and a half-muttered excuse of needing to go. Jungkook waves him off, saying he’ll be up shortly.

But he won’t find Namjoon when he does.

No, because Namjoon is now on a different trail, having passed off a curt message to a sentry about returning in a few days' time that he was going to speak to a contact. Which isn’t entirely a lie. He needs answers and fast. There is only one place he can think of that he might be able to find them. A place he hasn’t visited in far too long—months at this point.

The feeling in his chest…the name still echoing in his mind. There is an explanation. But he needs to be sure, confirm it, and see it once again with his own eyes. Because surely it’s impossible… fairytales are just that, fairytales.

It’s not like he didn’t already know your name. But the combination of your name and the feelings that assaulted him…Namjoon’s thoughts trail off as he focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, keeping to the shadows.

He cuts around the tree-top encampment, skirting the ruins until he hits a very seldomly trailed path. It spears right into the heart of Sherwood, leading Namjoon directly to the outskirts of Nottingham.

Namjoon has to journey through the night, taking a brief reprieve under the drooping boughs of a pine. Thready light filters through the trees, guiding Namjoon. Despite the infrequent use of this particular trail, he knows it perhaps more intimately than any other. It was the path of his childhood, where he found salvation and freedom.

The spire of the old church comes into view, breaking through the canopy before it gives way entirely to the thick stone wall encasing the city proper. It was the wish of the church to remain outside the city so its doors could remain open to any and all manner of wanderers, even those who may have found themselves on the wrong end of the Kingdom’s sword.

“Friar Gill! Friar Gill, are you within?” Namjoon whisper-yells, peeking over the sill of one of the rear windows of the sprawling sect house that connects to the church proper. It’s early enough in the dim morning hours that daily service and devotionals haven’t happened, but the brother within should be awake to prepare for them.

“Is that you, Namjoon?” comes a familiar voice, though one that does not belong to Friar Gill.

“Jimin? Er, Friar Park, yes, it’s me.”

“What brings you here at this hour?” Jimin asks, his tousled head of dark locks poking out the window a second later. His eyes are bright, the dark irises catching the first glimmers of morning light. A hefty tome is clutched to his robe-covered chest and there is a smudge of ink on the apple of his left cheek.

“Is Friar Gill here?”

“I’m afraid not. He left per request of the King, nearly a month gone now. He’s to bless the front lines and bestow his grace upon the King as he continues his crusade. It seems the Prince’s favored mage has not brought the King any luck,” he adds that last part with a healthy smirk, his cheeks instantly coloring as he clears his throat. “Forgive me for speaking ill of the Prince’s Mage.”

It’s an automatic response, Namjoon knows, for Jimin to feel contrite over his words immediately. Even if he knows Namjoon holds no warmth with the Prince nor his Mage. If anything, Namjoon harbors far more resentment and hatred towards the snake of a magick caster than most.

After all, it was The Mage who saw to Namjoon’s displacement and subsequent outlawish ways. It’s his fault that Namjoon has had to resort to pillaging city-bound caravans to get by.

He reminds Jimin as much, “You know there is no pleasantry lost between Taehyung and myself.”

Jimin nods, a frown pulling down his full mouth. “Yes. Yes, I don’t suppose so.” Straightening up, Jimin gives a quick shake of his head. “Friar Gill may be gone, but perhaps I can help you. What is it that you need?”

“There’s a book…a book that was shown to me when I was just a boy by Friar Gill. It has a green leather cover and gold etching along the edges. The title was something odd, a language I’m not familiar with. Do you know it?”

“‘Prophetia Somniorum’,” Jimin intones softly, his eyes widening with twinkling wonder. “A book about dreams. Prophetic dreams.”

“Yes. That’s the one. I think it has the answers that I seek.”

🍂🍂🍂

“Please, My Lady, come away from the window before you catch a chill. It’s the last thing you’d want on this day.”

You sigh, turning away from the open window of your tower room. The landscape beyond is bleak, the sky streaked through with heavy, grey rain clouds. There’s been a perpetual drizzle ever since you arrived in Nottingham.

Six days. It’s been six whole days since the incident in Sherwood Forest. Six days since you saw him…and you can’t stop thinking about those dark eyes. You’ve dreamed about them several times throughout your life, a few times a year at most. Now, though, it’s become a nightly occurrence.

There was a point in your life, in your early twenties, when you asked your mother about the dreams and whether or not she thought they held any meaning. You’ll never forget the faraway look she got in her eyes and the sad smile that curved her rouged lips.

It was like she was haunted by your question, or rather whatever your question made go through her mind. Memories, perhaps. Though, she never would tell you, no matter how much you asked. She simply told you that you should always dare to dream, whether your eyes are opened or closed.

You wish you could seek her guidance now, to ask her whether or not the man on the road could genuinely be the man you’ve been seeing in your dreams or if that kind of thing only belongs in storybooks.

It’s been months since you’ve seen either her or your father. Ever since your mother took ill and she and your father took up permanent residence in Nottingham, you’ve spent far more time alone in Yorkshire than in either of their companies.

As it is, you’ve not even seen either of them since you came into the city. Their estate is on the far side of Nottingham, in the garden district, and you’re restricted to the Palace. You had received a brief letter from them when you first arrived, a simple check-in via a cursore. You sent a response, but there hasn’t been word since, not a single knock at your chamber door aside from the occasional servant bringing your meals.

You wouldn’t be surprised if it’s still months before you see them again, given your mother’s health and your father’s demanding position within the governing body.

Duckie titters, her hands automatically moving to straighten your gown, even though not a stitch has moved since she trussed you into the stays an hour gone. The sun sits heavy and low on the horizon, its thready rays trying pitifully to eat away the thickness of night and perpetually grey cover.

You woke long before you should have, feeling restless with an itch beneath your skin. The fine hairs along your arms prickle under the long bells of your sleeves. You can’t shake the feeling that’s been gnawing at your gut since your eyes popped open, the dream of your highwayman sluicing away like a rush of icy water down your back.

“My gown is fine, Duckie,” you mutter. It takes every ounce of nerve you have to not jerk away from her prodding and fluffing.

Her wrinkled lips turn down in a frown. “One can never be too lax on a day such as this, My Lady. I just want to make sure you are pristine for Prince Seokjin.”

You might have once smiled at the thought of a prince. Part of the girlish charm of childhood, you’re sure. Pretty dresses, handsome princes, and a single care of naught else in the world. Only, you’re not a girl anymore. Not even close.

“I’m quite alright. Please. If the prince cannot accept me as I am right now, then perhaps he does not befit me after all.” You meant to say that to yourself, a mere utterance under your breath, but your frazzled nerves must be affecting your senses as a whole.

The gasp from Duckie is so dramatic it belongs in the theatre, center stage with an anticipation-gripped crowd holding their breaths to find out what happens next. In this case, it's a twitching of your eye as you suppress an eye roll and plaster on a tense smile instead.

Duckie swallows whatever response is on her tongue when a loud, sharp rapt sounds at the door. She schools her features and turns towards it, giving you a quick glance over her shoulder. You nod, letting her know it’s acceptable to open the door, even if you’d rather tell her to send whoever it could possibly be away. Nothing good can come of a knock on the door today, even if it could be a cursor from your parents.

Just as expected, the door opens, and you’re certain the temperature in the room drops several degrees. If you were facing the window, you’re sure you’d see the sun slink backward in the sky, choosing to hide from the figure on the other side of your threshold instead of continuing its journey to spread its meager warmth.

The prince’s mage sweeps into the room, his upper lip curled in mild disgust as his gaze sweeps over Duckie, quickly dismissing her, until they land on you. Those cold, calculating eyes have always unnerved you. What with their slender vertical pupils that slice through his golden brown irises, he looks every inch the venomous snake you know he is.

“My Lady,” he says, tilting his unruly head of midnight hair toward you. Even his voice has a hiss-like quality to it, the syllables drawn out just a breath too long.

“Taehyung.” You hope he can hear the apparent disinterest in the flat tone of your voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Though it’s anything but, you mentally note.

“I came to escort you to the arena.”

Of course, he would be the one to come and escort you. You should have figured as much. Despite the threat of rain, today’s festivities are set to commence at high noon. In celebration of your betrothal to the prince, a tournament of varying specialties is being held. There will be horse jousting, stone lifting, archery, and a multitude of other events, along with a giant feast. The event is open to most of the public, one of the only times mere commoners may get the chance to mingle among the upper echelon.

You balked at the idea when it was presented to you by your father. But, he would hear nothing of it, nattering on about how this marriage will benefit not just the Kim crown but your father’s own standing with his home country as well. For lack of a better way to say it, you are simply a means to a political end. No better than a slab of meat being bartered for at market.

“There is no—”

“There have been more reports of attacks on the road, growing ever closer to the city. The prince worries for your safety. You can come with me, or I shall have to call for the sheriff. My Lady, there simply can be no other way.”

It’s tempting to make him call for Yoongi. However, you’re not sure who the lesser of two evils is. As much as you hold disdain for the sheriff, you know if he’s pulled away from his duties to escort you, his wrath will be great. While the prince’s mage unnerves you…best to get this over with.

“Very well.” You incline your head and clench your jaw in preparation for the feel of his skin against yours as you stiffly rest your hand over the top of his when he offers it to you.

Ignoring the foreboding feeling growing in the pit of your stomach, you allow Taehyung to guide you out your door, Duckie shuffling close behind. The soft whisper of your slippers over the cold stones in the corridor might as well be the toll of a bell, telling of your impending doom and the future you want no part of.

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-10-29 ColorMePurplex2

[simpcityy]

Location Status: In Danger (Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Person!Reader) *Platonic*

Summary: Father figure Miguel left you alone in your dimension after taking your watch to get it fixed. You assure him everything was going to be okay without a watch but now he wishes he didn't listen to you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters. This is part 2 for Location Status: Unknown (Link Below Warnings)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Father Figure Miguel, father and daughter fluff?, Miguel cursing in Spanish, Angst, blood. violence, comic villain reference, meltdown...ughhh I think that is all.

Pt.1 Pt.2. Pt.3

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You woke up with your body feeling all sore. You let out a groan as you tried to get up on your knees only to fall on your back in pain. Breathing heavily, you glanced at your right side of your rib only to see your suit stained in red. Taking in deep breaths, you tried to remember what happened. You were fighting an anomaly in your dimension; things weren’t looking too good, and you got knocked out. Pulling your mask over your nose to breathe in more heavily. The pain was unbearable and not having a way to contact for backup, you had to do this on your own. “Why did the watch malfunction today?” You mutter before crying out in pain as you get up slowly leaning against the wall. Holding your side, you walked around the warehouse, wondering where this villain of another dimension took you. You dragged yourself out into a bigger room before looking around in panic as your spider senses went off.

“Looks like the spider finally woke up” A female voice calls out around the big room.  

You tried to locate the voice but it only echos around the empty warehouse, making it hard to pinpoint it. “Show yourself!” You yelled being aware of your surroundings. Finally, you spotted a figure walking out of the shadow. Taking in her appearance, you froze. You quickly composed yourself and scoffed. “Look at that, an inheritor here in my dimension.” Standing up tall, ignoring the fire in your ribs from the wound, “Which one are you? Bora? Verna?” You listed the names before letting out a grunt as she gripped your throat, pushing you up against the wall. The woman chuckles, “I am Verna, and I will make you wish you weren’t my prey” She smirks. “Preying on the young has always been my favorite.” She whispers in your ear as her grip slowly increases, making you gasp for air. 

Miguel was in his “cave” monitoring one of the missions he sent Gwen to do with the rest of the group that gave him headaches. He frowns watching them do it recklessly, he glances back at your watch as he was fixing. It’s been a week and he hasn’t gone over to check on you. “Lyla, bring up the cameras of (Y/N) Dimension.” He commands the AI as he keeps working on the watch. Lyla appears on his shoulder “Somethings wrong” She spoke, pulling up the screen. Miguel stops what he was doing and looks at the monitor, but it was pitch black. “Why is it not working?” He frowns, he may not have spider senses, but his father's senses were ringing in his head. “Lyla? Where is my kid?” He looks at the AI. “Hold on, I'm trying to fix this, someone or something did this.” She tries to make it work again. Miguel having no patience asked again “Dónde está mi hijo(a)? Answer me!” He yelled. “Something isn’t right!” Lyla, for once being an AI, had no clue on how to fix this, panicking as well for your well-being. Miguel yells out curses in Spanish before going through the portal to your dimension. He lands inside your place. “Kid?!” He yells going around each room finding it empty. “Esto no es gracioso! Sal ahora” He was hoping you were playing around, ready to see you smile and hear your fits of laughter, but he was met with silence. He runs up to the roof ready to see you there watching the city but is met with an empty roof. His heart started pounding, he pulled at his hair as memories of Gabriella started playing in his mind. He lost her and now you. He yells out to the city, “(Y/N)!”

Verna laughs as she watches you struggle getting up on your knees. She walks over to you as you take deep breaths. Everything hurts, even breathing in and out. You yelled out in pain as Verna’s hand went through your stomach. You whimper in pain; how can she be this strong? How can her hand go through your body with such ease? There were so many questions running through your mind, but one brought you to tears. ‘Is this the end?’ You think to yourself and glare at Verna. “I was hoping for a great battle” She tuts as her hand leaves your stomach. She smirks, as she cleans her hand watching you cry out in pain. “I can’t wait to have your head on my wall like the rest of the spiders.” She walks to you smirking, enjoying the sight of you. You were hurt, bleeding out to death and overall, just broken. She lets out a sigh, “But it’s a shame I can’t yet till they start looking for you.” She sits on top of some boxes looking at you. “We have to gather the herd and then I can strike.” She smirks as your eyes widen hearing her plan. She was going to kill the rest of your spider family. You already lost so much in your life, the thought of losing Gwen, Jess, Hobie, Pav and Miguel. Miguel lost a kid and if anything were to happen to you…he would lose himself slowly. “No, I will not let you hurt them…I won’t let you kill my family!” You yelled. Verna smirks seeing you getting up ignoring the pain throughout your whole body. “My Little Spider, I was wrong about you…you will give me a great battle.” She laughs as you stand in a fighting stance “Come on now, I bet your siblings are much more powerful than you” You taunt watching her smirk turn into a frown. “Usually, I don’t get my hands dirty, but you asked for it!” Verna snapped and ran towards you.  

Miguel followed by Jess and Ben started looking around for you. “Lyla Anything?” Miguel looks around the city while the other two went on separate ways to cover more ground. He swings by before landing on the ground seeing a few broken boxes in an alleyway followed by an anomaly laying on the ground in pain. He glares before walking over to them, grabbing them by the collar he slammed them on the wall. “Start talking” he growls. “Give me a break man!” The villain groans and looks at him “first I was fighting this Spider Person and then suddenly another villain came in interrupting our fight. Just great!” They groan in frustration. “Otra persona? Who?!” He yells slamming them again to the wall. “I don’t know!? I think they went by the name Verna?” Miguel drops them down and sends Ben and Jess his location. “Lyla,” He calls out. “On it already! Verna…here it says…oh no…” Lyla stops before she appears in front of him “We need to find them now.” She whispers. Miguel watched in horror, knowing Lyla was not one to lose her cheerful spunk. “(Y/N) is fighting Verna from the inheritors” Miguel stands still, everything around him was toned out, even Lyla calling his name out for him. Inheritors…people who hunt them down. You’re with one of the members, alone and having no way to contact for back up. He starts to breath heavily, was he having a panic attack? “No…no …no!” He yells punching the wall. No, he was having a meltdown. He turns to the anomaly and walks to him, his talons out. The villain quickly backs up “H-hey listen, it wasn’t me okay. I didn’t get the chance to inflict harm on them!” “Miguel!” Lyla gets in front of him only for Miguel to walk past her. Grabbing the villain, he raised his fist only to stop. “I found their location!” She yells trying to get his attention.

”Dónde*?”

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Authors note: Thank you guys so much! This series is popular among the rest I have written so far! Thank you so much! I have much more Father Figure Miguel ideas coming up soon on my blog! Change of plans, this series is going to be 3 parts instead of 2. It just means more for you to read! I love you guys for reblogging my works for others to be aware of my works! You are welcome to drop in request as well. Soon I'll be posting the rules for requesting. Thank you for the support! Sorry for any grammar errors. Remember to stay hydrated and to keep on simping! (Simp City Population: 53💕)

Spanish Translation: 1. Dónde está mi hijo(a): Where is my kid or where is my son, with the o being replaced with a it also means Where is my daughter? 2. Esto no es gracioso! Sal ahora: This isn't funny! Come out now! 3. Otra persona?: Another person? 4. Dónde?: Where

[oldfangirl81]

Some have already touched on it but picturing the chaos social media would be during The Fall Of The House of Usher has me cackling.

Spoilers

• People trying to both do serious memorials for the dead after the orgy and make jokes about rich death from sexual misadventures.

• Then Camille dies at Victorine's place of work. So the quiet conspiracy folks who didn't think Perry's death was accidental start to make a louder noises online.

• Next comes the death of Leo. Half the siblings are dead in less than a week. Seemingly all unconnected although a lot say grief caused Leo's death. Hemsworth has to answer a lot of ridiculous questions once it comes out about the role the hammer had in Leo's mental breakdown.

Okay a lot of the next part comes from the idea that as Roderick gets closer to death the protections from Verna are fading to allow for consequences. So things could be hitting social media with much more attention than before. Like a veil being lifted from the world's eyes.

• When the details of the murder/suicide of Victorine come out people are truly horrified. But there are a few bloggers who get vindicated. Dupin wasn't the only person over the years who wrote and saw truth when nobody else did. There are lots of texts/tweets/Tumblr posts with "Dude, sorry I said you were crazy for thinking the Ushers were the devil incarnate. I just thought they were normal rich awful."

• Tamerlane's death sparks so many videos and posts on sex work, sex surrogacy, toxic fitness standards, etc. Her husband gets some support from the public but is also a big punchline in alt-right.

• The government conspiracy folks and the occultists have ended their online beef. They are in agreement that this is a deal with the devil coming due. They start fighting again as more deaths happen as to which Usher made the deal, a few even try to say it was somehow Annabell Lee's fault.

• The aftermath of Freddie's death is a lot of disbelief. And more people wondering if maybe there really was something supernatural at work. People use historical examples as proof it is just chaotic forces of the universe but others point out they can't prove those instances weren't supernatural too.

• Lenore dies and her AI is active but very clearly twisted and broken. Causing more genuine anger towards Madeline Usher. At least one of her classmates is online influencer who is heartbroken and engraged in equal parts.

• Madeline Usher's gravestone is never free from vandalism. Actually most of the Ushers graves are vandalized. Lenore's always has flowers. Someone tracks down where Annabell Lee is buried after more facts come out. They gofund a proper grave marker for her.

• Then someone finds the tape Dupin left. It gets uploaded online. Dupin never confirms the authenticity of it because he wasn't born yesterday. That leads to debates of those that believed it was supernatural all along and those convinced the tape is a fake.

• Still the world offline mostly just puts it down to tragedy mixed with rich people bullshit. It ends up being considered a thing like bigfoot or faking the moon landing.

[baubeautyandthegeek]

Show Me Your Teeth Babe - Beverly Keane/Tamerlane Usher

A/N: Day 4 for @sapphic-september

Beverly is quiet when she comes to Tamerlane. They had been friends once, before… before she had willingly turned herself, before the island died, before she was alone. She had sought out the sole Usher survivor carefully, aware Verna had left Tamerlane alone only for her. The woman had died, technically, for several moments. Tamerlane looks at her silently, then, almost shyly, smiles, unbuttoning her shirt and letting it slide off her shoulder, beckoning Beverly closer, her touch soft in the woman’s copper hair when Beverly whimpers slightly, hesitant to let her teeth sink into Tamerlane’s skin. “It’s okay, little bat… go ahead.” Beverly’s bite hurts, teeth bury into her skin, drawing blood sharply even as Tamerlane sighs softly. It hurts, but it feels right. They were always close, friendship turning to so much more when Beverly saves her life, allowing Tamerlane the space to love her, openly and truly.

[royalsunshinehotel]

*slides onto your table once again*

I’m an angst girly, can you PLEASE write a fanfic where the reader and Leo are arguing? Man’s rich and all his exes before were scared to leave him because he’s a powerful man with money. Imagine if the reader is as power and as rich. The type to mot take bs (hehe)

His Mother's Son (Leo Usher x gn!reader)

A/N: I want you all to know that I listened to Whispers by Halsey at least 12 times to write the angst. The ending is a banger though, I'm really proud of it.

It’s hard to remember how good things were on nights like these. Especially when nights like these go south so quickly. You didn’t even make it in the front doors of the event, when your partner had decided to run his mouth off about your past. 

So what if you lied at the beginning of your career, you built your life by yourself, for yourself. Rage cuts through your skull, but you tamped it down, as always. 

“Why did you do that?” You kept your lips firmly pressed together, using both hands to hold your sparkly purse. 

“I just-” He tried. 

“Don’t fucking . . . why did you say that on the red carpet, about my parents?” First he almost made you late to your own party, and now the two of you were here, doomed. 

“It was just a joke.” He’d spoken with his father earlier that day, even at 6’4, Leo always seemed shorter after talking with that man. 

“I’m not laughing.” Leo runs a large hand over his face, to hide him rolling his eyes. “See, when you say things like that, it feels like you’re punishing me.” 

“And why would I do that?” Asked your beau, finally matching your stance and staying still. If this was any other night, jackets would be thrown off, clothing would be optional, but not now. 

“I made it out. I left what I had and I made something new. Something mine.” 

“No, cut deeper.” commands Verna, hiding in the wallpaper, staring out at the tragedy unfolding. 

“You’re a grown man. You should have something of your own by now. That is not, and has never been my fault.” 

“So what are you saying?” His voice came out as something of a wheeze. 

“I think we’re done.” 

“What’s this really about? Has the check from the film not come through yet? Do you need an allowance?” The whiney edge in his voice used to hide someone else entirely, someone with a big heart, who’d bend to your every whim, and now you’re wondering if he was even there at all. 

You stared at him for a moment, as if he’d just slapped you in the face. When you first took up with him, you declared money a taboo topic, and he’d just … 

You’re you. Leo thought for a moment about the day you asked him out. He should have said no. You didn’t need him like the others, you wanted him. And that was fucking terrifying. 

He’d said yes, like a fool, and here he was, exactly where he deserved to be.

“We’re done.” You stated, firmly, calmly, as Leo watched the elevator door closed. In a way, it the door closed on what he thought was the rest of his life. “Apparently not,” he thinks. 

In the elevator, you fall to your knees, staring at yourself in the golden reflection. It’s agony. It always is with him. But at the same time, there’s an unbearable lightness. 

You’d ended it. 

Anything he might have held over you…it didn’t matter now. You’re on your way down, and you’ll get an Uber home, and you’ll figure out what your life looks like without this…overgrown boy taking up all of your energy. 

It’s agony, but it won’t be forever. You’ll live. He won’t. 

With a shuddering breath, Leo’s heart drops. He knew how long it would take you to walk from the elevator, out onto the street. He should yell from the window, he should chase you and let you know that you were right, that he’ll fold, he’ll do whatever you want to keep you. He can’t be without you, he’s known that since he met you. 

But he can’t. 

Maybe it was too many upper, maybe it was too many downers, but he’s been paralyzed before, but he’s never been sober enough to remember it. 

Maybe you were right about the drugs too. 

And now you’re gone. You would be on the front sidewalk by now, he wonders if you’ve thrown a rock through the windshield of his Ferrari. He hoped you did, so he had something to remember you by. 

Leo runs a hand over his face, knees buckling, before he lands on his hardwood floor with a loud ‘thud’. He’s fallen, like a glass of spilled milk. 

“I'm the one who leaves. Ushers do the leaving.” As soon as the words fall out of his mouth he wishes against all odds his mother would appear out of the mist, and slap him upside the head. 

For a minute, Leo commits to the floor, breathing as evenly as possible, and failing. Tears follow soon after, and he doesn’t shy away from them for once. 

You’ve gone. You’ve left him. This is why he was the one who left. 

Leo’s heart pounds in his ears, and he still can’t quite get his breath to even out. It’s almost getting worse. 

Fuck. 

Verna waits in the corner of Leo’s apartment, in the shadows of course.

Oh, how tragic.

In another life, Leo has the nerve to tell Rodrick “no”. In another life, he’s his mother’s son. 

Within him, laid a great capacity for kindness that would have echoed for years after a premature passing. 

As a PE teacher, the kids adore him, of course, and he loves them completely. He still wouldn’t have gotten to grow old with you, but he let you love him that time. 

But it’s not to be. 

At this moment, in this place, he’s an asshole, an addict, and an absurdly rich man who thought his being right mattered above all else. What a shame he’d let the door shut on the one person who’d told him otherwise. 

This time, Verna makes a change. She should tell him about your life, she should tell him that she knows you’ll be alright. And she knows she doesn’t have to. He knows you’re better off without him. 

A tap to the forehead, and he’s gone. 

Mercy. 

Maybe,  this once, he deserves it.

[the-fandom-abyss]

Hi! I was just wondering do you take requests? If so could you ever write something sweet and h/c with Verna? Literally anything at all with her being kind and comforting. I don't see many blogs writing her so I'd be really grateful. If not, then what's your opinion on her character overall? I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thanks!!

One thing we didn’t get to dive into is how romantic Verna is. You can see that in the way she recites poems, the way she sends people to sleep, how she speaks to them moments before their passing. I feel that is how she would be with someone she loves. She would be the one to cook breakfast in bed, just so she could snuggle with you longer. Or she would set up a romantic dinner with candles and music, just so she can end the night by dancing with you. Or something as simple as cleaning, she would want to be near you at all times, help out where she can.

Sometimes Verna’s comforting techniques can be a bit skewed. For example, if anyone uses their power over you or threatens you in any way. She will strike a deal with them, just like she did with the Ushers. She will mention this to you with a “they’ll never hurt you again”. Their luck will begin to turn and eventually they will cease to exist. If she is feeling particularly passionate about it, there might be some luck in the deal for you. Whether that be riches, houses, cars, power. Whatever Verna believes you need in that moment, she’ll get for you.

Alternatively, she is also the world’s best listener. She will happily hear your side of the story, soaking it all in. She will ask if you want to vent, or want some advice or if you want her to problem solve. Depending on the answer, she will act accordingly. When it’s just to listen, she will comfort you afterwards with a stress free bath, cuddles with a movie or she’ll brush your hair for you. She’ll tell you how proud she is when you express your emotions.

If you are wanting advice, Verna will draw upon her many years in humanity to find the perfect response. Sometimes the advice does not translate well but her heart was in the right place. Her advice can even be goofy, just something for you to smile or giggle at, because for her that is the simplest joy.

If you wanted her to problem solve that doesn’t involve her creating deals and orchestrating their deaths. She will offer suggestions that could help and like her advice they can be very hit or miss. It’s the thought she puts into it that counts. Often times you ask for help just to hear her speak, her voice is just so beautiful when passionate. And of course Verna knows this so she will go around the block with her response just so that you get the most of it.

Death is something that many people fear, which rightly so, if your death is anything like the Usher family. However, death can also be kind and gentle which is seen through Verna’s actions. If it ever comes to it, Verna will send you with sweet dreams. She will morph the atmosphere to be one of love and respect, something that you would find peace in. Once it was done, she would wait with you, just long enough for you to transition over.

1k Follower Celebration

[gctchell]

— get to know red !

what's your phone wallpaper: lilith & chaggie.

last song you listened to: pokemon bgm & which witch by florence + the machine.

currently reading: interview with the vampire by anne rice, the exorcist's house by nick roberts, the hacienda by isabel cañas, why does he do that? by lundy bancroft, the historian by elizabeth kostova.... i got too much going on help me and my adhd ass.

last movie: the green mile. that shit broke me.

what are you wearing right now?: black gown with POCKETS ! ! ! !

how tall are you?: 5'1'' ..

piercings / tattoos?: I had my ears pierced once in walmart (pressured by parents :'D) and they were done so badly. they've healed over. tattoos? I GOT A FEAR OF NEEDLES. NAH.

glasses / contacts: glasses. i got a sick haul of glasses chains from christmas.

last thing you ate?: beef stew and cocoa puffs. weird dinner lol.

favorite color: don't you "it's a shade" me, it's BLACK. black and burgundy, purple, and gold.

current obsession: lilith. videos from japan (watching silent videos of just walks and traveling is comforting to me). herbalism.

do you have a crush right now?: yis. my gf.

favorite fictional character: lilith m. (idc what canon does she is my baby), vagg.ie, nif.fty, jessica rabb.it, regi.na mills, garnet, piper halli.well, the under.taker (kuro-shitsuji), mortici.a add.ams, bo.ris ha.bit, gran.mammare, oliv.ia crain, vaness.a ives, verna (fall of the house of u.sher), zelda spe.llman.. no particular order.

last place you travelled: next town over to the DMV for my state ID. exciting travels, I know.

tagged by: @jizzlords 🖤🖤 WRAPS AROUND U LIKE A SNAKE. thank u.

tagging: @heavenslie, @punchedpentagram, @sinnerswinners / @hcdgepcdge, @tocliimb, @waywardsculs, @damnedrainbows, @theunknownmasks, @angelichooves, @flameandindifference, @arachnaemboss, && whoever wants to do this. :]

[forgetmenot-mymoon]

DTA SHORT STORY: The Two Analysts

“Guess who’s home!”

The woman walked in, her hair had grown longer from the last time she visited, a visit of blood. The man stood next to vials of various liquids, rats on his shoulders. His hair was a mess of knots. His eyes narrowed as the door slipped open, she was never good at sneaking. Kainat never needed to be.

“Mr. X and Shakesphere say you should leave,” Zebel said petting Shakesphere's head. Both fuzzy rats were content on his shoulder as he stared at the table full of chemicals. Not looking at the woman.

“Who?” She said eyes narrowing as she looked around the makeshift lab, a mess of chemicals and metals.

“I don’t know, I just hear things and name the little guy, one’s a writer or something." Her eyes widened a bit with realization as he said a little,

“Oh, your fucking rats! Those stupid things.“ Her hands almost moved to solidify her feelings but she stopped herself.

“What do I need to do to get you to leave my 75th lab?” The short man said with a sigh.

“This is only the 75th one?” She asked as she picked up a vial set off to the side. She was getting ever so close to him. Zebel ignored her, still staring into the vials in front of him.

“Yeah, ten have been burned 'cause I’m a witch according to humans. While 20 have been because of you." He still refused to look, she wanted to smash the vial.

“Funny, science is witchcraft now,” She smiled as she turned still staring deeper into the vial, Zebel picked up both rats and put them on the floor, they ran to their hidey-hole.

“Technically they’re the same, both come from a need for power,” The shorter man said as he started to organize the vials in front of him, refusing to look Kainat in her crimson eyes. He’d seen what had happened to others far too many times.

She dropped the vial with a crash, a shattering heart. Liquid pooled onto the floor, the color of blood and her eyes,

“I heard that thing has been paying a visit,"

His hands paused, “You want me to poison them?”

“No, no I would never want that,” she said drawing out the t while empathizing never, all lies.

“Should I keep guessing, or are you gonna tell me?” Zebel felt the urge to turn around but ignored it. She didn't respond.

“You really like making people guess, you’re a stereotypical villain.” Zebel continued.

“Eh you know us, we can’t afford to be predictable. You’re the same as me." She stalked closer now right behind him. He refused to turn, his rats scattered in the walls, away from the lingering danger. The air got thinner as she approached.

“Zebel," Her voice acid like always.

“Yes, Kainat?”

“How many of our old friends are alive?”

“Me, you and Hybrid.”

A sword was to his neck immediately once Hybrid's name was spoken.

“Aw, are you sure about that?” Her words were like licorice melting on his skin.

“I know you can’t detect lies, that was Yonna and Yinna’s thing…thankfully they didn’t live long enough for you to kill.”

“I think it’s a shame, now give me all the names. Who gave that thing his medication? Who gave you the recipe?"

“Dr Verna,” She shook her head,

“Callan, Brahma, even Dr. M are all alive according to rumors.” She tsked and pressed the sword to his pale skin, drawing two drops of crimson to match her eyes.

“Do you come here just to torture me? To trick me? Every damn time?”

“No, that's you.”

She withdrew her sword in a flash putting it in the sheath as she walked out. Zebel kept his head down until she shut the door, the darkness consuming the lab even with its glowing vials. Even with his glowing crimson eyes. A much lighter red compared to the deep evil outside.

[rassicas]

You at some point said that you wanted to change some of the backstory of Verna regarding his relations with Grizzco, to better reflect his position and purpose at the company with the new rotm and potential Splat3 dlc lore. Now that we have everything, have there been some finalized thoughts on the subject?

currently with my OCs I'm a bit stuck. I have this whole huge plot I've been trying to work out with how Cress and Verna reunite and get into some... Wacky Misadventures (they are going to have a bad time. together), and come out of it more understanding of each other....all this takes place prior to the start of Splatoon 3, and Grizzco is involved in that story so i cant really work out what happens to Verna during Splatoon 3 until all that is worked out...augh.

oh god i accidentally wrote too much about how grizzco works in my splatoon OCs setting. under the cut

How I've basically worked it out in my setting is that it's as if Mr. Grizz doesn't even exist. Well, he does, but...you can NOT convince me this literal mammalian bear is micromanaging an egg collection operation a few hours away from an underground cavern, all while building a spaceship, repairing alterna, and doing god knows what with fuzzy ooze? his voice from the radio is pre-recorded. He's just in the background trying to get his golden eggs for his stupid mammal revival plan. Grizz is pretty paws-off with the actual operations of the company. In order for Grizzco to operate like an actual company in the Inkling world, Mr. Grizz needs connections within the Inkling world. He needed to hire people, and lots. contractors to pilot the boats. the helicopters. people to repair them when there's issues. contractors to set up the grizzco building. people to maintain it. Supplying and maintaining weapons. Who put the statue there? Remember when grizzco would actually close its gates? someone had to be doing that. Advertisers? Sales of eggs? Do you really think Mr. "Does your species even have bones" Grizz is doing all that? No. So how would Grizz get these connections? I think ORCA could've helped out in some way with scouting some people online or with Grizz's business knowledge being an all-knowing AI. ROTM sure does a great job explaining or even implying anything about the relationship between those two. /s. But ORCA still is just a virtual entity, and you'd need a physical representative for some things, right? Anyway this is where the Judds come in. I think the idea that Lil' Judd being Grizz's initial way into the Inkling world...sucks. That's probably what the Splatoon team is going for and I do not care, the timeline on that does not make sense. Grizzco was introduced to us, the players, in April 2017. At this point the egg baskets are all installed, and there are Inklings in-universe partaking in egg collection....Lil Judd was born only a few months prior. I'm sure it would've taken a while for grizz to get everything together to establish this company. To me it makes more sense for Judd to have involvement. He's the only other mammal, and the one with all the power. (not only do i think the implied canon timeline sucks, in my OCs canon, i've had it established that grizzco has existed in some form several years before s1 so...) I wouldn't think Judd would know about the mammal revival plan. but like, Judd lets Grizz set up because he's looking out for his fellow mammal, and saw the kind of energy benefits this would have….also more salmon meat, yum. Judd canonically has numerous connections in the Inkling world, even to world leaders. He could use these connections to allow for Grizzco to set up business and give that permission to operate in the restricted areas where Salmonids live. Beyond this I have a hard time imagining Judd getting too heavily involved. Like once some other people are hired to do some more micromanaging of the company Judd kinda dips. Lil judd doesn't get involved until some years later and takes more direct interest in the company. With permissions granted and Grizzco operating as a defense against the Salmonid army while also providing power eggs, then grizz could do whatever he wanted so as long as an amount of money and eggs went into the Inkling world. And eggs are the primary source of income for Grizzco, so this part is very important. I think very early on Grizz would've had to personally deal with the sales of eggs to get the money to get the company started...maybe selling to octarians even? But for some real business dealings in inkopolis, youre gonna need some representatives in-person. anyways remember when this post was about my OCs. So I'm making a Grizzco board of directors, and they're the ones who actually maintain the company and the things in it while Grizz is busy in Alterna. Even the directors don't really know about Grizz's mammal revival plan, they just supply him with golden eggs and turn a profit for the company, by whatever means necessary.

After spending quite some time at Grizzco and becoming more trusted as an employee, Verna gets to know some of these directors. Some become his allies, and some are a bit more unsavory... He starts spending more time with some of them especially after his salmonid encounter, and they'll have a role in Cress and Verna's story. I've had some of these guys bouncing around in my head for years. some of them have art that im sitting on. i wish i could share more but I am Not done cooking </3 so to answer your ask in short. yes I have finalized much of the things with how i have grizzco functions in my OC's setting, and im basically ignoring the existence of grizz himself, in the same way that grizzco as a company runs completely normally even after grizz basically dies in ROTM. but at the moment, i do not have all the details finalized with other people at the company and how verna interacts with them

[where-dreams-dwell]

Loving the complexity of Madeline Ushers character: a woman who declares she doesn’t want to be limited by men, who’s life is defined at every turn by the decisions and actions of her brother.

……

Madeline Usher is doomed by her attachment to her brother, and it is the root of all her eventual pain.

When Verna offers them the deal, it’s Roderick who ‘charges forward, straight at it’ and accepts the terms despite the fact that the only ‘next generation’ they current have are his kids. Madeline agrees afterwards but only once Rodrick makes it know he is already in. I don’t think she’d have gone for it if he had objected, she’s always had a very ‘both of us or neither’ kind of attitude.

And then she is as much these kids parent (from what we have seen) as Roderick is. Granted we see next to nothing of the kids biological mothers so we have to assume they weren’t very involved (either by their choice or other circumstance) with their kids after Rodrick got his claws into them.

That first scene when we meet Perry Madeline and Roderick are equally dismissive of him, but she is the one asking questions and prompts: you’ve had a year to come up with an idea, is this it or is there more? How are you going to make this successful? Why will your pitch be different? She even asks Roderick to jump in ‘anytime now’ to help her handle this train wreck. And Rodrick has just received the news he’s dying but I think it’s telling that Perry is looking at both of them for validation, for support. They are equally intimidating but equally supporting him.

With Camille we don’t get 1-2-1 interactions between her and her father (despite her own obsession with winning his approval) but we do get a scene with Madeline. After Perry’s death Camille lobbies to be given the power to lead the family’s PR response, and Madeline takes her seriously and asks what she would do. When Camille lays out her plan it’s Madeline who gives a proud nod of approval and okays her actions.

Leo unfortunately gets no parental interactions from either senior Usher. Victorine only gets it right at the end just before her monstrous actions are revealed. Otherwise all she gets from Roderick is pressure and the interactions of an investor, not a father.

Tammy gets the most parental interaction from Madeline, which is tragic as she’s trying to show her father that she can be the heir to his empire. But her aunt is the one who shows up to her presentation, who gives her the pep talk, consoles Tammy (in her own way) about the failure of her marriage, who believes Tammy when she is terrified by someone in the crowd.

Frederik is always focused on his father so Madeline doesn’t get many moments with him, but again Roderick is more of a CEO or boss than a father: focused on how to protect the company, how to secure the future. Little to no concern or support to his son as he mourns his wife’s injuries, as he deals with his siblings deaths, as he takes on more pressure from the world and the family. Roderick only mourns his son (as opposed to his heir) after Fredrick is dead.

Added to this: the security on all the kids? Madeline arranges it. When more kids die? We see Madeline demand it be doubled. She’s the only one still fighting for them, fighting fate itself.

With Lenore we see more interactions with her and Roderick but her interactions with Madeline are just as sweet and show a close, loving relationship. Lenore even calls her Granny Madeline. And Madeline is the one planning to preserve Lenore via AI: this must have been the main reason she begged Roderick to kill himself. Not to save her to but to spare Lenore. What’s the bet that she started working on the AI project in earnest when Morelle announced she was pregnant?

Madeline tracks down the supernatural entity they made a deal with and tries to negotiate a new deal: again (now we know the original terms) this is likely for Lenore’s benefit, not hers. She faces down a power far beyond herself and tries to save or protect what’s left of her family. Not Roderick.

Madeline took steps to preserve and protect her nieces and nephews, and grand niece while her brother did next to nothing. Once you know the nature of their deal with Verna, Roderick’s attitude to his remaining children after they remember who Verna is is just baffling.

Madeline even makes reference to birth control that she took on the off chance the deal was real. She says to Tammy that she didn’t want children with her first husband and hasn’t since, but she has been a mother to Rodericks kids. This lack of biological motherhood hasn’t spared her for the heartbreak of loosing a child. Or a grandchild.

And it’s even the decision of a man (again her brother) which is going to end her family’s legacy in another way. His marriage to Juno, his treatment of her, his denial of her fight to get clean and his horrible reference to himself as Victor Frankenstein and Juno as his monster - this is what pushes her to sign away the company when she inherits it. Madeline speaks about the board choosing her and moving the company away from pharmaceuticals, into the fields of AI and tech. Sure Madeline then died but a lot of the groundwork was likely there, and it could have been a possible path for the company. If Juno didn’t inherit it all and break it apart. Because of Roderick, and the way he treated her. Once again Madeleine’s legacy is destroyed by her brothers actions.

The irony of 1970’s Madeline declaring she doesn’t want to be limited by men’s choices or by a man, taking steps to protect her self and her heart, focussing her work on things outside of medical drugs in the hope that one day that can be what they become known for… then being doomed to more heartbreak and failure by every one of her brothers careless actions is so sadly tragic.

[mrbensonmum]

TV Show - The Fall of the House of Usher VIII

Madness has now completely consumed Roderick, and we finally get an answer to a previously asked question: Is Lenore also one of the Usher children, and must she share the same fate?

People are falling from the sky as a symbolic representation of the Usher family’s, or more specifically Roderick Usher’s, deeds. It’s a drastic image that, in my opinion, is not without significance. Especially since it’s not just a brief shot—it goes on for quite a while, and we even see the bodies pile up. It’s practically the prelude to the meeting with Auguste Dupin.

As we see all the already deceased children appear, Lenore is among them as well. Thus, all of the Usher children are gone, and now we finally understand why. We also finally learn what happened on New Year's Eve in 1979! (I always chuckle a bit here, since 1979 is my birth year.) Even though we’ve already been given a grim picture of the Ushers, this image gets filled in with even more gruesome details. Madeline and Roderick are bolder and more ruthless than we ever imagined. And yes, they will stop at nothing, even murder, and we learn who the first victim is and how they met their horrifying end.

But before that happens, Lenore and her mother are saved, as they call the police. Before Lenore passes away, Verna reveals to her that her mother will live a peaceful life and that all the money she inherits will be invested in a foundation named after her.

Before Roderick’s conversation with Auguste, Pym and Madeline also meet with Verna at the Usher house. Madeline is forced to realize in a very intense way that perhaps she’s not as tough as she has always appeared to be. The timelines blur a little here, but she meets with Roderick in the basement once again, and something horrific happens. Roderick drugs her, removes her eyes, and replaces them with stones, just like in an ancient Egyptian ritual.

In a conversation with Pym, Verna speaks about a client and the deal made with them. Due to certain searches and which search results my post might appear in, I won’t go into detail here. However, this is another critique the series beautifully wraps up and throws right in our faces. Could Verna actually be the Devil himself? Pym’s question about whether this client will soon get their comeuppance remains unanswered. But who knows? Maybe it will happen soon!

Could there have been a better choice for Pym than Mark Hamill? I don’t think so! And here’s a provocative question about Pym: Could he be the only honest and upright person among all these other characters, who have clearly stared into the abyss, as Nietzsche described, for too long and too deeply? But it’s not just about the abyss—it’s also about the struggle with monsters and not becoming one yourself, which fits perfectly, in my opinion. However, this is a question the series doesn’t answer, leaving it up to each viewer to form their own conclusion based on what’s shown.

In the end, it’s undeniable, especially after Madeline’s monologue, that the series also serves as a critique of society. I’ll definitely have to check whether a similar critique is hidden in the original short story that inspired the title.

It’s interesting how the house in which Auguste and Roderick have been staying all this time metaphorically represents the titular “House of Usher,” and it too crumbles into dust and ashes, just like the entire family. Before that, we see Madeline rushing up from the basement to strangle Roderick. The previously mentioned ritual, which was only hinted at, is now visually confirmed. It’s horrifying, but after everything the series has shown us, perhaps this is a fitting end for the Usher siblings. But was that the point of it all?

Although he’s only a peripheral character, I find it quite satisfying that Auguste Dupin seems to find peace in the end. At the Usher family grave, he closes the chapter, as his case no longer makes sense, and Roderick’s confession is now irrelevant. He talks about how he wants to spend the next phase of his life with his partner—a very pleasant conclusion!

The Fall of the House of Usher, what a series. The casting, the settings, and even the use of CGI have all gone the extra mile. More effort was put in, rather than just settling for an average series. And the connections to the works of Edgar Allan Poe—there’s a lot of research involved, otherwise, the real fans would call you out, but I haven’t seen any backlash.

Even the recitations of the works—while I can’t claim to have understood all of them—are always delivered at the right moments by the respective characters. And I have to give a shoutout to the German dubbing team. Even though I can’t verify the accuracy of the translations, they clearly paid attention to ensuring that the voices carried the proper weight.

Reflecting on all these connections in a post is going to take some time. There are quite a few stories I want to revisit, and I want to do it properly. I’ve seen that the Wikipedia article on the series already lists some, but I’d like to refresh my memory with the stories, especially those that share titles with the individual episodes.

I wholeheartedly recommend The Fall of the House of Usher. It’s a series in which you can truly immerse yourself, especially with all the previously mentioned connections. But even if you don’t care about those, the series still leaves a lasting impression. There’s plenty to reflect on, to discuss, and perhaps even to rewatch. In the end, however, that’s for each viewer to decide, and the series gives you that freedom. Maybe that’s why I like it so much. If you just want to enjoy it and be entertained, great. But if you want to take a deep dive like I am, the series offers that too. It’s wonderful that such content is still being made. But I’ll save my Hollywood criticism for another time.

Picture of my Deep Dive! (Can't wait to read the book about Arthur Gordon Pym!)

[viridian-artist]

Boogey beast (hope I'm spelling that right-) question! What is each of their favorite date with each other? :∆

It's with one "o"!

As for their favorite dates:

REN: After he gave up the crown in Season Nine and started shifting focus back towards the record shop and his own builds, he decided to take them on a date to Scarland of all places. He loves that date in particular because he felt more present in the moment and loved how they looked at night during the fireworks show.

VERNA: Their favorite date with Ren had to be when they finally got to Season Ten, the current season, and felt bad for being late (it was more of a server issue as Xisuma was unable to whitelist them right away for some unknown reason). They took Ren to a beach far from the main activity of the server to keep it between the two of them. They really enjoyed it due to it feeling like they were the only ones on the server for once (they've never really gotten to be alone as someone ends up being around).

[theamberplumbob]

Now that we've completed the challenge, we can look over everyone's relationships and memories! Here's what I found that was interesting...

Carmine, despite all his flip floppy behavior with his romantic attachments, managed to be best friends with everyone in the house.

Also, Rosario seriously put himself through all this drama and heartbreak for guy... he had 1 bolt with... 🤦

Blu actually was a little snake this whole time! He actually did cheat on Lila with Verna way back when the challenge first started!!! 😡

He and Verna really did deserve each other didn't they?

Also, I think the funniest tidbit is the fact that Blu being enemies with Rosario wasn't because of any sort of cheating drama. They just fucking hated each other.

Sunny and Rosario have actually been besties since day 1 and that has never once changed. I respect that.

Verna and him were actually good friends too, until Carmine got in between them. That's actually kinda sad.

I think this speaks for itself...

It should be noted that Rosario's also the reason we have the Genie Lamp. Thank god for him always being on that cycling machine.

Also

SUNNY REACHED PLATINUM ASPIRATION???? HELLO?????

But the juiciest detail of all...

AUBURN AND LILA HOOKED UP RIGHT BEFORE SHE DIED

I assume that was just to make their respective cheating partners jealous, but... that's still pretty tragic.