#extremely contrary to this symbol's intent we keep staring at it and going It could be more perfect in these enumerated ways--

[blankmogai]

alterhuman identity anarchy symbol!

[cyokie]

Jack Vessalius as a Symbol for Depression

Ever since I first read PandoraHearts, I have interpreted Jack Vessalius as at least a partial symbolic representation of depression, especially in his relationship with Oz. 

(Skip to “keep reading” to go straight to the analysis; this beginning portion is little more than a disclaimer.)

Jack is a complex, fascinating character, and it is precisely due to this that I believe any number of interpretations regarding him contain merit. Whether you view Jack as an abuser, a manifestation of mental illness, or an extraordinarily-written character that does not require a figurative understanding to be interesting, I think this is valid. 

I am saying this first and foremost because I want to be clear: this is not a persuasive essay. I am not trying to change anybody’s minds about liking or disliking Jack Vessalius, nor am I trying to devalue any other interpretations of this extremely nuanced character. Some points may be a bit vague and connections disjointed, though I attempted to minimize this. Any discussion of mental illness and abuse is based on either my personal experiences or those of people I know. I do not intend to offend anybody. 

This post is simply the product of years of disorganized yet in-depth thoughts about this concept. I hope some of you will be interested.

Major spoilers for the entire manga below the cut. Manga panels are from the Fallen Syndicate fan translation. This...is going to get very long.

Emotional Abuse

Jack exists within Oz’s mind. When these two interact, it almost always occurs within Oz’s head, providing every conversation with an inherently emotional and symbolic element. 

Jack initially appears to Oz as an unknown but crucial figure. Whether he is trustworthy or even harmful remains to be seen, but his input is necessary. He is the only insight Oz has into his lost memories; he knows something Oz does not. Oz is suffering an identity crisis, realizing he has endured something he does not completely understand, something that could potentially change his entire life once he does understand it. And yet, this mysterious voice within his head understands it.  

This desperation makes it almost irrelevant whether Jack is credible, whether his advice is well-intentioned. Normally a rather cynical and distrusting young man, Oz follows Jack from the beginning despite wanting answers. He does indeed receive answers, but they are perhaps not quite what he bargained for, in more ways than one.

Once Jack’s true nature is revealed, the extent to which he has used Oz’s memories and emotions against him becomes apparent. Jack does present Oz with new insights into his experiences, but he only ever provides Oz with enough information to convince him to act a certain way. He never willingly gives a fair, all-encompassing portrayal of an event from Oz’s past. He manipulates Oz’s perceptions of his memories to fit a particular emotional narrative, one that is inevitably perplexing and demeaning to Oz. 

This bears a resemblance to the way depression warps how we view past events. When we look back at our experiences, we don’t see the entire picture--though we are convinced that we may. We see a skewed version of an incident that actually occurred. Perhaps this incident proves little to nothing about ourselves in reality, but viewed through the lens of depression, everything about it seems to scream that we are useless. And it is nearly impossible to try and perceive these events any differently, because when depression overtakes our minds, this perspective appears to be the only one through which it is possible to examine any of our pasts. 

By the time Jack’s intentions have been exposed, he is also explicitly emotionally abusive towards Oz. It is easy to recognize Jack’s statements as not only psychologically damaging, but disturbingly similar to what we hear in our own heads when suffering depression. Think about these assertions without the very literal plot elements that support them: Jack declares Oz less than human, insists that nobody loves him, and claims that he has no future because the only thing he’s good for is hurting those around him. He convinces Oz that he is useless, hopeless, and worthless. 

Jack drills these ideas into Oz’s head when he is at his most vulnerable. This is when Oz breaks down and becomes convinced that all of Jack’s statements are true. He is not who he thought he was; he never has been, and so his life is meaningless. 

This is arguably when Oz reaches his all-time emotional low. While it was already addressed that he had been struggling intensely with his mental health and was probably suicidal, up to this point, he always retained some level of self-preservation (however slight). Now, he silently accepts that the world would be better off without him and offers no physical or emotional resistance to his own execution. Jack’s words worm their way into his heart and corrupt his self-image to the point where his only reaction to Oswald’s sword swinging towards him is a blank, unflinching stare. 

Trauma Response

It’s not uncommon for Jack to manifest during catastrophic moments--that is, whenever a situation triggers (or comes close to triggering) overwhelming memories of Oz’s trauma. When Oz is losing control over his emotional and physical faculties, Jack often encourages him to make the trigger disappear using the quickest and easiest method available. Unsurprisingly, this method generally takes advantage of Oz’s extraordinary powers. In other words, the “tactic” Jack advises Oz to use is simply mindless destruction.

In the second half of the manga, Oz is at his least emotionally stable. It is not a coincidence that this is also the point during which Jack gains the ability to completely hijack Oz’s body. This development allows Jack to commit impulsive acts of aggression through Oz, while Oz himself retains little to no control.

Jack overwhelms Oz with unnecessary flashbacks to traumatic events and makes an excess of harmful connections between past and present circumstances. Oz’s panicked, distressed responses to this are tools he uses to further coax Oz into acting in a self-destructive manner. These tendencies may not only connect Jack to the concept of depression, but the concept of post-traumatic stress disorder as well. 

Identity Crisis

Although Jack is introduced extremely early in the manga, one of the story’s main mysteries is the exact nature of his connection to Oz. This relationship shifts several times, especially with regards to who is “in control” and who is the true “owner” of the physical body. 

Once it becomes public knowledge that Jack is “within” Oz, the identity of the former overcomes the identity of the latter in the eyes of the general populace. Figures who never before gave Oz a second glance begin to pay incredibly close attention to him; many directly address him through his connection to Jack rather than as a separate entity. 

Oz is deeply troubled by the way others ignore him in favor of an aspect of his identity that he feels does not truly represent him--an aspect of his identity that is at least partially out of his control. However, he is also relatively resigned to being judged in this manner. He lacks knowledge of how to change this circumstance because even he does not truly understand the extent to which he and Jack are connected. 

It is true that at this point in the story, Jack is practically worshipped. His destructive actions and devastatingly selfish nature have not yet been exposed. Because of this, Oz as Jack’s “vessel” is typically viewed through a positive lens. Still, this situation reflects how people with depression are sometimes reduced to nothing more than a mental illness by their peers. Because others do not understand (and mental illness is stigmatized), they start to see us as “different” in some indefinable but undeniable way, and our existence becomes that particular part of ourselves in their eyes. 

As time passes, the line between Jack and Oz becomes more and more blurred. Questions are raised about whether they are the same person or, on the contrary, whether they are similar at all. At what is arguably the climax of the manga, Jack declares that Oz’s body is, was, and will always be his possession; he claims that in reality, there is no “Oz,” only “Jack.” 

This thought haunts Oz intensely and sends him into a rapid downward spiral. Like the sentiments expressed near the end of the “emotional abuse” section of this analysis, the idea that Oz’s body belongs to Jack is backed up by rigid, literal plot elements. However, if we view this emotional catastrophe using a symbolic perspective, it is a representation of yet another common struggle endured by those with depression.

We come to ask ourselves who we really are. Was there truly a time when we weren’t “like this?” Could we truly escape this misery in the future? Who would we be if we were to stop feeling this way? Do we even exist without depression? Does Oz even exist without Jack?

Visual Symbolism

It is a classic literary device to represent hope through light and despair through darkness. The manga is rife with this exact type of symbolism, utilizing it to describe how the Abyss has changed throughout time, Break’s dwindling eyesight, and the oscillating emotional states of various characters. 

As I stated previously, Jack and Oz interact almost exclusively within the latter’s mind. The landscape drawn in the background of these conversations initially possesses a watery, clear appearance. However, as it becomes increasingly clear that Jack’s presence is deeply damaging to Oz’s psyche, this same landscape becomes overwhelmingly tainted by dark, ink-like shadows. 

Closer examination reveals that this “pollution” originates directly from Jack--and it reaches its peak once Jack’s intentions have been fully disclosed. Not only is Oz’s mind visibly corrupted by darkness, but Jack himself appears as an almost inhuman figure composed of these shadows. 

There is another level of visual symbolism as well--namely, the fact that Jack becomes increasingly physically aggressive and disrespectful towards Oz. In the first half of the manga, he primarily speaks to Oz from a distance, occasionally reaching out a hand in his direction. This is clearly not so in the second half of the manga, at which point Oz begins to defy his influence and it becomes vital that he subjugate him as quickly as possible.

By this time, Jack is almost always seen either restraining or caressing Oz. Even in the latter situation, when his touches are lingering and vaguely affectionate, they are possessive and constraining. In other words, though they appear different on the surface, both actions are ultimately methods of forcing Oz’s submission. It can be said that this represents his desire to gain complete control over all aspects of Oz’s being, as well as his total lack of respect for Oz’s physical and emotional autonomy.

It can be argued that both of these aspects of symbolism reach their pinnacle even before this point. Oz realizes his own worth when Oscar says he loves him and reveals that his greatest desire is for him to be happy. When Oz is at last able to grasp that he is loved and there is hope within his life, Jack immediately reaches out to grab him. And in one of the manga’s subtlest but most poignant moments, his hand crumbles to dust upon touching Oz. 

What follows is an extremely impactful display of Oz’s character development. He recalls Jack’s previous statements declaring his achievements worthless, denouncing the love he received from others as fake, and degrading his worth. Then he furiously rejects all of them, thrusting out a hand to push Jack away from him and consuming Jack in an explosion of light. 

The conclusion to be drawn from this is that Jack essentially lives off Oz’s misery. When Oz understands and is able to accept that he is not worthless, Jack is suddenly rendered utterly powerless. 

The manga culminates in a scene that coincides with this symbolism. This late into the story, Oz has succeeded in transcending Jack’s influence almost entirely, but Jack is not quite ready to let go. Though they stand together within a void, glimmers of light linger around Oz--despite everything, his life has come to be surrounded by hope and love. 

As Oz floats towards the path of light above, Jack reaches out and takes hold of his wrist. But his grip is feeble and hesitant, representing how little control he truly holds over Oz at this point. Perhaps attempting to provoke guilt or regret, Jack asks Oz if he is certain that he is prepared to move on without him, but Oz has grown too much to succumb to this manipulation. 

Without delay, Oz replies that there is no reason for him to stay, and Jack finally releases him. He escapes into the light--into a world full of people who care about him, into a life where he is happy to be alive. 

[chaotic-tired-cat]

world walker to date is one of my most favorite fanfics ever. it's so well-written! not too op, with real difficulties and plot, but still light-hearted and funny! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 i hope life smoothens out for you so we can get an update of this awesome story! :D :D :D

Aaaa thanks Anon!! This ask made me super happy - I'm glad you like World Walker and that it hit the right balance between angst and comedic moments (tbh that's one of the things that's really hard to get right). Things are still hectic but as soon as they're not that chapter is getting finished!!!

Since it might be a while, have a post-World Walker scene from the pov of a couple civilians. It was written to try out Cryptid as Izuku's hero name (/^o^)/

(Note: this scene isn't canon to World Walker and was written before I knew how the story would end.)

“Why do you even think this is going to work?” Yua hovers around Mariko’s efforts in the Denny’s parking lot, careful to avoid stepping on the complicated design taking place under Mariko’s second piece of chalk. The first one was sacrificed to ward off a raccoon. They specifically chose to do this after midnight for the ambiance, but Yua is starting to have second thoughts.

It’s very dark, and they’re both fem-presenting teenagers with emitter quirks in a deserted part of town.

This is not a good place to be.

“I got the pattern off a hero,” Mariko assures her. “You know how I was in the gym when Uravity's fight hit school, right?”

Yes, and Yua is trying desperately to forget the worst day of her life, thank you.

“Uravity and Cryptid dug me out, but it was weird, because he drew this symbol on a piece of the roof and it just- stayed. In the air. Even when nothing was supporting it.” Mariko pauses, beaming at the magic circle that’s mostly made of lines and squiggles to complete the aesthetic. One of the symbols doesn't look right. It slides out of focus, and Yua carefully steps back, because hell no.

“How is that supposed to help us summon a ghost-”

“Finished! Start filming, hurry, hurry, hurry!” Mariko drops her piece of chalk as Yua scrambles to swipe open her camera. Before Yua can stop her, Mariko has drawn a pocket knife, cut the pad of her thumb, and is smearing blood on the unsanitary parking lot ground.

Delightful.

Her hand is going to get so infected.

That’s right about when the air above the circle tears itself apart.

Mariko shrieks. Yua almost runs, then remembers herself and makes sure her phone is pointed at the sliver of starlight shining out of thin air. She knows her horror film tropes. Whatever they released into the world is taking them first, but she can at least get a video account to warn people of what they did.

Eaten by a demon or some shit. That’s a bomb-ass obituary.

Pro Hero Cryptid crashes out of the portal, one hand protectively wrapped around a bowl half-full of salad. His Uravity sweatshirt mostly obscures Froppy sweatpants, but Yua is more alarmed by the fact that Cryptid looks surprisingly human. No needle-sharp teeth, no starlit eyes. Spinach flutters to the ground around the hero in a gentle shower of greenery that nestles in his curly hair as if adding to the foliage. He stares blankly at them, then at the scribbles under his feet, before pointing a truly pissed-off look at the sky.

“Are you serious?” Cryptid yells at the city skyline. A spinach leaf falls off his shoulder. “Right in front of my salad?”

“Holy shit,” Yua whispers, and discovers that she can, in fact, be more embarrassed than the time their teacher made the whole class sing ‘Happy Birthday’ while she stood in silent mortification on a chair. “We summoned him.”

Mariko claps both hands over her mouth to keep in her laughter, eyes wide. “We really did.”

This seems to draw the hero’s attention back to them.

“You two okay? Yes? Nobody’s hurt? Oh, thank goodness.” Cryptid stabs a fork into his vegetables, shoves it into his mouth, and makes grabby hands for the chalk. Mariko passes it over with a potent mix of awe and glee.

“I am so sorry,” Yua breathes.

Mariko sniffs. “I’m not.”

“And I’m glad to be summoned,” Cryptid finishes with a sunshine-smile. He’s very… human. The wrinkled eyebrows he directs at Mariko’s chalk art do not resemble the otherworldly creature that showed up during All Might’s last battle. “Better for me to be dropped here than for y’all to get… hm. Yeah, this is good.”

Hm?

Hm??

What does ‘hm’ mean?

Yua reaches over and frantically swats at Mariko’s sweatshirt in an attempt at telepathically communicating her many, many feelings concerning accidentally summoning a hero into this godsforsaken Denny’s parking lot.

“How did you find a stasis glyph?” Cryptid mumbles around his fork.

“Copied it from you. My quirk lets me mimic actions if I see them without blinking.” Mariko peers around his shoulder at the lines taking form.

“That’s such a cool quirk,” Cryptid tells her instantly. “Do you need a clear line of sight? Is it only capable of copying real-life actions or can you use recordings? Oh, are you limited to your own flexibility and strength, or is this a mirror skill instead of a mimic? You could use that for anything, it’s a very adaptable power.”

Yua cautiously edges closer to give the camera a better angle at the ground while Mariko preens. “What are you even doing?”

“Editing. Here, look- right there, you tied it down with intent contrary to the meaning.” Cryptid shuffles over so she can see and points out a circled section. He smudges out the blurry patch.

Mariko watches eagerly as the hero replaces it with a mishmash of lines that Yua can actually make sense of. “I don’t understand any of what you just said, but hell fuckin’ yeah, you funky lil’ cryptid.”

“Oh, sorry. I get called whenever the void gets angry, and this is the language it speaks,” Cryptid says, like this makes sense. He taps the lines eagerly. “Put a stasis glyph on the ground and continents will stop shifting, which is a whole lot of bad news."

"Uh huh," Mariko says. Yua swats at her again, because there's no way she understands and going along with this for entertainment value alone is going to get them into some sort of horror movie B-Plot.

Cryptid just looks amused. "Next time you need to experiment, use a paper base instead of the concrete. It’s safer. And- is that blood?”

“Maybe,” Mariko says, partially as a dare for him to say anything because she isn’t really the type to listen to anyone, regardless of if they’re a hero. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Huh. Yeah, you got me there.” Cryptid puts his bowl of salad on the ground and fishes around in his Uravity sweatshirt for a tiny med kit.

“Where’d we go wrong,” Mariko asks, like they are ever going to try this again. Yua hisses for her to stop and is ignored with the extreme confidence of someone determined to keep making the same continuous mistake until success is summoned through stubborn willpower alone.

“You didn’t need to hurt yourself.” Cryptid bandages her hand, slips away the medkit, and says gravely, “Blood never brings anything good.”

“Holy shit,” Yua repeats as Cryptid takes a bite of salad and goes right back to his art project like this happens every other Tuesday. Mariko glares at her, but honestly, this is the wildest thing.

The hero keeps saying things.

“Not to lecture either of you, but it’s a bad idea to mess around with unborn languages without supervision.” Cryptid hands back the chalk and takes another bite of his salad. “This stuff can blow up in your face. So, can I escort you guys anywhere? Because it’s a little dark and this isn’t exactly the safest part of town.”

That’s about when Yua realizes something under the spinach is glowing.

[clarythericebot]

betty & james & accountability

What i love most about betty is that it is, in taylor swift’s words, about a seventeen-year-old standing on a porch, learning how to apologize.

it’s about a teenager growing up, intentionally and painfully.

and it shows. 

there are so many points in the song where you hear him want to turn away from his pain and deflect. 

you heard the rumors from inez 

you can’t believe a word she says

most times, but this time it was true

There’s a distinct pause between “says” and “most times”. you get the impression that james is making a complete statement--she’s just the small-town school gossip, don’t listen to her. and then he catches himself. he admits it, and for the first time his easy narration slows down into an agonizing confession: 

the worst...thing that.. i ever did...was what...i did...to you

Then it speeds up! It turns into an anxiety-ridden teenager wanting to talk to his best friend/ex at a party that she’s throwing, a rambling mess of an articulated daydream that keeps turning into a nightmare. it’s also one of my favorite choruses that she’s ever written. 

 but if I just showed up at your party 

would you have me? would you want me?

would you tell me to go fuck myself 

or lead me to the garden 

in the garden, would you trust me 

if i told you it was just a summer thing? 

here we see james attempting to envision his highest hopes; but even in his wistful imagination, he swerves into every single thing that can go wrong. if he goes to the party, she could take him back--or she could reject him. maybe it’s neither and she’d deign to hear him out, a quiet conversation just like old times--but even if she did, would she believe him? would it even matter, or would she dismiss all his apologies as too little and too late?

and up next is, i think, the most controversial part of the song:

i’m only seventeen, i don’t know anything 

but i know i missed you

but i’ll get to that later. the important point about it at this point is that we can infer that this is his motivation, the reason why he keeps considering to go to the godforsaken party--he misses her. 

the next part of the song is the beginning of end. 

betty, i know where it all went wrong

your favorite song was playing

from the far side of the gym

i was nowhere to be found

i hate the crowds, you know that

plus I saw you dance with him

what’s interesting to me is this is him catching himself again. there’s a pause between you know that and plus. what it looks like here is that james would rather betty believe he ran off by himself because of his dislike for crowded places because of his automatic excuse. but pay attention to the words. your favorite song was playing from the far side of the gym. betty hears her favorite song, looks around for james to dance with. james had disappeared into a corner by himself, but he does see her look for him, and the fact that he understands that they’re far from each other has a covert implication that he works up the courage to make the attempt to get to her. but.

I saw you dance with him. 

we can infer a bit from this interaction. firstly that betty, if not necessarily a social butterfly, seems to be loved and comfortable even amidst the throes of high school. (she is the type of to throw parties and have supportive friends attend them, after all.) secondly that james is decidedly not as extroverted at her, and is crushed to see her dance with someone else. 

and he admits that. we see that temptation again, to shift blame to betty herself--I hate the crowds, you know that. but he catches himself, and reveals the real reason was that he was jealous and insecurity.

I was walking home on broken cobblestones 

Just thinking of you, when she pulled up like

A figment of my worst intentions

She said, “James, get in, let’s drive”

Those days turned into nights

Slept next to her, but

I dreamed of you all summer long

What I appreciate here is that he doesn’t slut-shame her. He explicitly says a figment of his worst intentions. and it’s true. all his sorrow and regret doesn’t excuse the fact that he uses this unnamed girl as a salve to his helplessness. to throw in a little feminist commentary in here, he also seems to be falling for the toxic idea that sex and losing his virginity will prove his masculinity. betty low-key calls him out on it in cardigan: I knew you / tried to change the ending / Peter losing Wendy.

What would Peter have to do to not lose Wendy? Grow up. But there is growing up, the awkward and painful process of taking responsibility, and the supposed indications of growing up that don’t actually tell you a thing about maturity (like having sex), and it looks James decided to choose the latter. 

(not to excuse james, though, it should be noted that the unnamed girl isn’t entirely fair, either. in august, she clearly knows about betty--you were never mine. she isn’t completely random; james gets in the car because he knows her. she sings i remember thinking I had you and back when I was living for the hope of it all. Put together, the character of this unnamed girl is someone who seems to have had a longtime crush on james. what the entire situation seems to be is that james used her to grasp at some shred at confidence, while she snatches at a moment of weakness to try for the relationship she wanted for him.)

does the unnamed girl deserve an apology? yes. of course. i can kinda see why james wouldn’t bring her up in his apology song to betty, though.

The swell of music after the above verse, by the way, seems to symbolize James’ determination. Picture him using that burst of bravery to propel himself to the closest he’s been yet to his ex’s house without panicking, only for that musical bravado to trickle away into agonizing quiet as he takes in what he’s about to do. 

Betty, I’m here at your doorstep 

And I planned it out for weeks now

But it’s finally sinking in

Betty, right now is the last time

I can dream about what happens

When you see my face again

James explicitly states that this is when the feeling finally sinks in. And what is the feeling? Quite obviously: Fear. In a way, it’s underlined by the fact that he notices it’s the last time he can think about the best case scenario. In choruses, we know that James cannot stay in the best case scenario. He will inevitably sink into the depths of the worst possibility, and the pause after this seems to indicate the heart-thumping instinct to run while he still can. The fact that James is afraid is palpable, and not just because he’s facing Betty.

There’s a question that hangs around this song: Why doesn’t James just talk to her? In private? Not in a party? It’s not because he’s trying to pressure her--all mentions of her friends or anyone else, really, seems to indicate that they will clearly be on Betty’s side. There is no one pushing Betty to forgive him--quite the contrary. And while she switched her homeroom, they’re still in the same school; she can’t avoid him and, from what we learn of Betty, she wouldn’t, anyway.

The answer, I think, is showing up to the party is part of James’ apology. 

If how it all went wrong was because he was too cowardly or it took him to long to face the crowds for her, then damn it, his apology will take place in front of a crowd of hostile teenagers. If how he acted caused her embarrassment, to be the object of unfair rumors, he’d give her a chance to publicly shame him. It’s an extreme move, but it’s characteristic to James’ reckless (now intentional) abandon, and the fact that he really is so young. An adult would apologize quietly. James will go for the all-or-nothing, even if it kills him. 

And it is killing him. I think the fathomless fear of the worst case scenario would be enough to choke him out of his resolve if his motivation was, in fact, only due to emotion. 

In earlier verses, he sings: 

i’m only seventeen, i don’t know anything

but i know i missed you

this is utterly immature, if you think about it. selfish as much as it is sweet. he would ask her to come back to him in spite of all the hurt he caused because he misses her, he wants her with him. but if he were really relying on that, he’d leave.

he doesn’t.

the only thing I wanna do

is make it up to you

The real reason why he’s here is to make it up to Betty. To apologize to her, to take responsibility (to finally grow up) and whatever comes along with it.

so i showed up at your party

Picture people staring at him then--his worst fear. There is silence.  Not neutral or curious. Openly hostile. How dare he show his face? Girls whisper. Boys, other friends of Betty’s, maybe even the guy he was so jealous of in the beginning, crack their knuckles. James’ head dips into his neck, his shoulders hunched. 

yeah, i showed up at your party

He and Betty catch sight of each other. He holds his breath.

And then!

yeah, i showed up at your party

would you have me? will you love me?

will you kiss me on the porch

in front of all your stupid friends?

if you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it?

Will it patch your broken wings?

THE SWEETEST. 

What I’d like to underline here is that, aside from the heart-rending, world-toppling reunion, we finally get a deeper glance into James’ daydreams, his true best-case-scenario. He learns to take responsibility because he wants to make it up to her--because he realizes that she’s hurting, too. And his wildest dreams, his real longed-for hope, isn’t that her love is going to make him feel better. It’s that his willingness to be lay his trembling heart before her in front of everyone who hates him will mend her own heart. 

I’m only seventeen, I don’t know anything

But I know I miss you

At this point, this line has graduated from immature selfishness to the wondrous, reckless, willing-to-learn openness. The controversy around these lines is that James is saying them as an excuse for his actions. On the contrary--he uses his love for her to break him out of himself, and we understand that now. I’m only seventeen, he says, and teenaged boys can be blustering and insensitive and self-centered, and some never really grow up. But James does, for Betty’s sake. He may be young, but his guiding light is his love for her.

 Standing in your cardigan

Kissing in my car again

Stopped at a streetlight

You know I miss you

[writinginthemoonbeams]

Heroes and Brunch (The Flash x Reader)

Note-This is the Ezra Miller version of The Flash.

It’s true that not all heroes wear capes. Or, in your case, have a cool outfit whatsoever. Heck, you don’t even have a symbol. But the Justice League members, the true heroes of the world, considered you a godsend despite that. You did so much for them, that “grateful” wasn’t a strong enough term.

From nursing their injuries, polishing their weapons and armor, being their counselor when they need advice, you truly were a gift to them. You made sure they had time to relax between missions, too. Such as playing with Diana’s hair, mimicking the intricate styles her sisters back home used to do. Or you’d be her muse for painting, or at least try to give her ideas for future pieces.

Adam would also let you mess with his hair, but he preferred when you brought him to the ocean to spend time with different creatures. He especially loved dolphins and their high spirited nature. Though the peaceful turtles soothed him when he had that stormy rage brewing in his mind.

The Justice League cared for you immensely, and loved having you around. Not only because you were a great help, but because you were fun to be around. You could bring a smile to everyone’s face, no matter how glum and angry they were. Even Bruce, despite his normal brooding mood. Though they all love you in their own way, a certain member cared a bit more than he was letting on.

It was a lazy summer day at Bruce’s house. You were alone in the mansion, reading in one of the many rooms. Most of the team had gone out to celebrate their most recent victory, but you had stayed behind for some quiet time. Plus you were reading an extremely good book, so the team understood why you hadn’t tagged along. This wasn’t the first time a story had entrapped you and kept you from partying with your friends, though they didn’t mind. It was rather adorable.

Reaching over to grab your coffee for a sip, you stopped suddenly as blue lightning swiftly entered and retreated from the room. You recognized those azure-toned bolts anywhere, though couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t said anything. Or why he wasn’t with the rest of the team. Assuming he had just forgotten to bring something, you shrugged it off and went back to your book.

But, before you could enter your literary world once more, you noticed a bouquet of flowers in various shades of your favorite color lying near your cup. Smiling, you lifted them up to your nose and let the blend of scents overtake your senses. A creak in the floorboards caused you to notice Barry standing in the doorway. He was nervously twitching, staring at your face intently with an anxious expression. His cheeks got tainted with a fierce blush when your eyes met his.

Speaking quickly, as is his tendency, he muttered, “I’m sorry, that was kinda weird, I was just staring at your face like a dolt without saying anything. Not saying your face isn’t lovely to look at, on the contrary, it’s beautiful and perfect and flawless. Wait, that’s like the same thing. What am I saying? Erm, anyway, are the flowers to your liking? You’re not allergic or anything right? I mean I’ll get you fake ones if you are, but I’ll feel awful if you’re allergic and I just threatened your life accidentally. I just thought they were a good idea, since it’s socially common for people to present flowers to someone you care for romantically. And sometimes other gifts, but-”

Giggling softly, you stood up and stopped his nervous rambling with a kiss on the cheek. “I’m taking that as a “Yes”, then?” he murmured with a smile. “It’s a definite “Yes”, but why me? I’m not that amazing. I don’t have powers or cool gadgets or anything like you guys. I’m just kinda me.” Shaking his head, he replied, “No, you’re more than that. You’ve helped me learn how to relax around people, and make friends, which I never thought would be possible! I thought I’d be a loner forever in my little lair with nothing but my computers. But, now I can talk to people. Somewhat. Plus you help when when the team and I get hurt, though I’m usually too quick to get injured. You also keep everyone from strangling each other, help us mend our suits and weapons, make sure we get a dose of fun every once in awhile, and so much more. You’ve helped me feel normal for once, like no one ever has before. And if it’s alright, and this whole dramatic speech hasn’t been too weird for you, I’d really like if you would do me the joy of going out with me. Like, on a date, I mean. In case it wasn’t clear.”

Awestruck by his words, and slightly amused, you did the first thing you thought of; you kissed him. He froze at first, sitting still for once in his speedy life, but he eventually expressed his enthusiasm at your response by kissing back passionately. When the two of you parted (curse you oxygen!!!), you said “Barry Allen, I’d love to. Would you like to get some brunch?” The coffee you had been drinking had you craving breakfast food.

Raising an eyebrow, he replied, “I don’t understand how one can “brunch”. Why do people wait an hour for something that’s basically breakfast, but at a later time?!? What’s the point?” You shot him a look, causing him to sigh. “Alright, I’ll try it. But only since it seems like some natural social custom one must partake in at one point in their life. Plus I need to replenish my blood sugar.”

With a smile and another quick kiss on the cheek, you took his hand and headed towards the door. Barry grinned, amazed how slowing down for someone could make him the happiest he’s ever been.

Author Note- I apologize if I didn’t portray this character the best, I’m somewhat newer to this fandom. But, I tried. 

[kvlt-ov-romance-blog]

The Voice: Pt I

[So, I’m currently in the process of trying to draft ideas as to what could constitute “rap magick,” which is exactly what it sounds like. On the surface it may seem that hip hop is devoid of magical qualities, but this is quite the contrary; magic is all around us and hip hop is no exception, especially these days when even in the mainstream there is a rising influence of occultism. The following is the first part/introduction to this idea, and suggestions are welcomed].

There is chanting, there is prayer, there is throat singing, there are many more styles that could fill a book. It is tantamount to any practitioner of magick to understand the voice is an extremely important tool for spiritual and magical workings. It is the oldest instrument, it was the first legitimate means of communication nearly everybody developed, it is an evolutionary mechanism, it is a piece of your identity. Many creation stories across the spectrum of faith feature spirits and entities creating and destroying as they speak, this gives you an idea just how mighty the voice is. In fact, it’s so powerful that consequently, even silence is incredibly useful in magical practices; and even in music itself, silence can be used for many interesting ways (John Cage’s famous 4′33 -- note the 33 in the title for all you numerology and Gematria fanatics).

Sound itself is a vibration -- remember that one of the key principles of Hermeticism is that of vibration, that nothing remains static, everything is in motion (or if you’d prefer a more strictly secular view, dialectics comes to mind). Because sound is literally vibration, this means that even the sounds we hear affect our realities, our minds, perhaps even the All. Sound itself is fascinating because it “exists” in a state that is beyond our immediate comprehension, being non-physical and seemingly close yet far. In various belief systems, the voice is used as a means of raising vibrations and energies, often through mantras, through the utilization of the throat chakra, and so forth.

When it comes to the voice, I am personally not the strictest of believers that when conducting magical exercises that you must pronounce everything absolutely correctly and without fail. Typically, I find it to be effective in most cases to simply exude the utmost confidence, to speak as though staring someone intensely in the eyes. Even if you falter in your speech, what matters is if you can keep continuing strongly without pausing and fumbling about. Many words are arguably human creations as well, and psychologist, neurologists, linguists, etc. have often suggested thoroughly that the key of understanding and also achieving results through speech is largely symbolic and within your mind.

Besides, there is a lot of tricky wording within the realm of magick, some of it even being reversed words (note: pay attention to what Aleister Crowley had to say in Liber ABA about the importance of learning to speak backwards, for this is another means of affecting vibrations). This is not even particularly a fact that pertains solely to the realm of the spiritual, it is basic science and culture; people respond far more legitimately and attentively to those who speak strongly than those who have a poor flow, poor vocabulary, etc. So again, speak confidently and strongly and your results will likely be better than even if you are just saying the words accurately but only doing so in a rather passive manner. With spirit work, spirits respond more easily to the correct ways of speech, but all spirits tend to more specifically look for those who are speaking clearly, voicing themselves with confidence, and so forth.

One such elaboration on this matter specifically, I think back often to the story "A Hermit and a Monk” by Lama Zopa Rinpoche in which a monk visits a hermit who had spent years of his life chanting “om mani padme hum” the wrong way according to the monk. The monk leaves but then suddenly sees the hermit standing on water. , The hermit asks the shocked monk humbly for the correct pronunciation, and it is here where the monk realizes that it was the hermits faith, his conviction, his dedication, his confidence in his words that had done far more for him than correct pronunciation; we have far more power over our realities as individuals than we think, on levels ranging from the spiritual to the scientific and psychological.

Now, before going further, let me say that there are indeed certain words that no matter what your tone is, if you say them incorrectly, you may not achieve the results you’re looking for. True, your intent, your will, and of course the tone and nature of your voice matter the most and you likely will reach your goals in due time, but there are plenty of esoteric matters where pronunciation and annunciation makes everything just a bit easier. From Yogic mantras, to demonic enns, even names of entities in foreign languages can indeed be difficult to master saying, but it is will worth it to keep trying. As I said, you have a large role in determining your reality, but much like it helps support results to accurately see the correct visual aids (e.g. sigils) it also helps to get your wording right because it’s akin to honing in on the exact frequency or vibration you need. Additionally, as previously mentioned, some spirits may be quite picky about such matters, and also it’s a good habit to get into, especially if you’re relatively new to magick because it’s not only an opportunity to start fresh but also to boost your faith a bit, as if you start off saying what you need to correctly, even if you’re going into something with skepticism, the proper voice can likely lead to more legitimate results and thus improve your trust and confidence in your endeavors.

Essentially, there is stil much to be said on the nature of the voice -- and even on silence itself -- but this is just a brief introduction to the subject. More shall follow in due time. As I mentioned, I am trying to develop a more coherent means of utilizing rap/freestyle/poetry in achieving magical results so that is something I will discuss more prominently in upcoming sequels to this. Please let me know if you have any suggestions and thank you for reading!

[magdalenatarot]

As you know, on occasion, I get personal with my readers when I feel there’s a broader metaphysical lesson to teach from a mystical experience that I have.

Things began to shift Friday night. I was sitting in the park with my friend, mentor and graphic designer, Christopher Gueluff. We were reading cards and suddenly I look up and I realize I’m staring straight at the scene from the 10 of Pentacles from the Goddess Tarot Deck.

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I showed Chris and he thought it did look a lot like the card. I wondered what could be coming …

I joined the Rosicrucians in November but due to constant disruptions, I’ve never been able to make it to the temple. That changed on Sunday when I went to the Temple for the first time. I felt the shift again as I was standing at the bus stop and a man with a dozen red roses came and stood behind me in line. We passed a mural of sunflowers (a power symbol for me since I identify with the Queen of Wands) and I knew that I’d fallen into flow with the way things should be. When I got to the office park where the temple is, I was confused trying to find the temple. I looked all over the vast rows of buildings and could not find the right unit. Then I saw what looked like a white dove fly overhead. I looked down and saw a young man and an old man going behind a corner. I decided to follow them and I ended up right where I needed to be.

I was greeted with hugs like an old friend and I knew I was in the right place.

Without giving too many details because the Rosicrucians are a Mystical Order, I had a powerful experience during the ritual’s mediation.  We had just talked about energy healing which I am a big skeptic of but I listened with an open mind.

I had been fighting going into a trance during the entire ritual. It was the kind of trance that was so heavy that I felt like it would put me straight to sleep. But finally, I couldn’t fight it any more and gave in.

Suddenly, I was on a bus. A woman that was so agelessly beautiful with such a pretty copper skin tone and such beautiful, greenish, yellow eyes got on the bus behind me. She was short and kind of lanky.  She had some clunky boots on and some kind of light blue lace dress with bell sleeves and all kinds of silver, jangling jewelry and trinkets hanging off her. She also had a silver nose ring with a chain that connected to her earring. Her chest length hair was very straight, shiny and dip dyed aqua.

The vision was so vivid I could smell the fumes of the bus, feel the wind from the open window and feel the plush cushions of the seat. I sat down and the woman sat down next to me. She looked at me and said, “We can’t help you unless you trust us.”  I started to cry and she held my hand. I knew she was an angel and I asked her what her name is. She told me, “Georgia.”

She held my hand and I felt tears slip down my face in this world while I was in the world of the vision at the same time.

After the ritual we had a meal together and some of the fraters and sorors were talking about traveling. One of them lives the dream, traveling all over the world. I said I used to be able to travel but something happened and I can’t manifest it anymore.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“I don’t know … there’s so many places to go, I can’t pick one.”

“Pick one and visualize it.”

After the meeting I spoke with another member about how terribly behind I am on my studies. Since my finace left me, I’ve been too depressed to do anything. Keeping Magdalena Tarot going has been a big struggle but at the same time, it helps me find meaning in life.

The frater I spoke with told me that I need to get back to my studies and told me just to keep it up and don’t worry about how far behind I am. Just keep studying.

I went home with every intention to print my materials (I learn best from printed resources) but I was out of paper. But when I went to the store to buy some more on Tuesday night, the register was down so I got a whole box of paper for free. It’s usually $24. The manager said to  look at it like a present.

It certainly was. I printed my monographs, made a binder and put them in my bag to study at work since it’s been super slow.

I was reading about visualization in my mystical studies. My text recommended the reader visualize all the colors of the rainbow. It went on to describe the vibrations of light and how rain splinters light and creates rainbows. It talked about the color black and how it absorbs light and how white reflects it.

I thought of this beautiful, extremely dark skinned, African model and I wondered what her experience must be like absorbing so much light. She looks like how I envision the goddess, full of night.

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Photos or 24-year-old Nyakim Gatwech are not mine. Original photographer unknown

On the contrary, I’m really fair skinned. Sometimes I glow in the sun I’m so white. Even though my skin is pink, it’s such a light pink that it reflects light. I’m so sensitive to light that I have to hide under big hats and parasols and behind sunglasses or the sun burns my skin and eyes. I visualized myself full of light and refracting colors.

Shortly after this, I had an unpleasant exchange with my ex. We’re wrapping up the last week and a half at the apartment and we’re getting rid of furniture. I had a mental breakdown because Adam (my ex) managed to get rid of all our furniture today which is good, but the futon I sleep on is going tomorrow which is bad because I have nothing to sleep on for the last week and a half at the old place. We had a terrible fight about furniture logistics, which lead to a huge fight. I tried to cry secretly at my desk but it hurt so much I started to whimper. I noticed a rainbow in my tears splashed on my shirt. My boss caught me crying and told me to take a walk. It was the end of the day and I got to go home soon. I composed myself the best I could and came back.

A light rain pelted me ad I walked to the bus stop. I turned around and a huge rainbow arched over the street. I remembered what I read and how I visualized a rainbow at my desk. And behold, one appeared over my work.

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The bus driver asked me how I was doing. I told him I had a bad day. Then I pointed to the rainbow and said, “There’s a rainbow over there though! It’s a good way to end the day.” The bus driver replied he’d had one of his worst days in a long time and thanked me for pointing it out. I pointed it out to another passenger who thanked me as well. On my way off the bus, the driver says, “Thank you for the rainbow, it made my day.” And I wondered if my visualization acted as a vehical to bring it the rainbow into existence. I watched the rainbow through the grimy bus and train windows during my commute home, in awe at how it appeared just as my text said it could if my concentration was strong enough.

I got off at the bus at the station. Almost a year ago today I was heartbroken over a man I shouldn’t have loved. Today I am heart broken over the man I should have given that love to. And sure enough, the rainbow appeared right in almost the exact same place it was in a year ago. Almost 7 years ago to the date I was broken hearted and a rainbow appeared over Tokyo, where I was living at the time.

I guess my tears refract light. And Every time I blink my eyes now, I see that rainbow burnt into my eyelids like metaphysical reading said would happen. It said that if you stare at a color, the complementary color will appear when you close your eyes. I also realized that the forecast lined up with today as well.

Wednesday 7/19/17 # Soul Essence Numerology: 9 Moon Enters Gemini 12:31 AM PST

The Soul Essence card is a card that was added to the Tarot by the creator of this deck, Richard Hartnett. This is a card that brings events that help you connect with the deepest parts of your soul and answer questions like, “What’s my life purpose?” If you feel less than harmonious, ask yourself why. Mercury Trine Saturn at 12:16 PM PST is a transit that brings serious thoughts and feelings to the surface. It’s time to get organized. Moon square Neptune at 11:19 PM PST is a transit of fantasies and illusions. If you are seeking answers you may find them in the mystical. The Moon is in the dual sign of #Gemini today asking you to unite both your dark and light sides to find balance. The number of the day is 9, a number of near completion.

“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in” Sculpture and picture by unknown

There is a Crack in Everything, that’s How the Light Gets In As you know, on occasion, I get personal with my readers when I feel there's a broader metaphysical lesson to teach from a mystical experience that I have.