This is the home annoucement page for when updates are posted to my fanfiction on Archive of our Own under the username Lavendercrow136, and on Wattpad under the username Crowlover23.
hi, everyone! so, this template started off as a place to keep track of my d&d characterâs spells, but i got a little excited and it really just turned into⊠a whole d&d character sheet, really. d&d sheets are very practical, but theyâre not quite âš aesthetically pleasing ⚠and also donât have any space to describe your spells. however, be mindful that this template was made with a first level character in mind, so itâs gonna get waaaay longer the more your character levels up.
this is a SINGLE-MUSE template, including pretty much every section in the original d&d 5e character sheet, but you can adapt and remove whatever you want!
also, a little sidenote for the magic section: all of these have a drawing element underneath normal text, but this can get a little tricky or messing while editing, so if itâs easier for you, you can also replace them for drawing elements with textboxes. the text wonât look as good tbh, but itâs way more practical to work with it that way.
GUIDELINES â
this is a FREE template. do not use it for paid content.
you can edit it however you want, just DONâT delete my credit.
to save it, go to âFILEâ and then âMAKE A COPYâ.
likes and reblogs are SUPER appreciated!
if you need any help editing it, just message me anytime! you can find LIGHTFOOT in the SOURCE LINK.
Okay so hear me out, Reader can see spirits but Larissa canât really roam freely, she goes where Wednesday goes of course, as her guide.
So found family type of trope where both Larissa and reader are helping Wednesday solve her mysteries and crime scenes and Wednesday is absolutely hating how mushy those two are being because theyâre so happy to be reunited.
âIâd rather staple my eyes shut than be a witness to you two doing this.â And theyâre literally just talking, walking together, maybe holding hands, Wednesday. Chill.
Idk I just think itâs fun đââïž
Sorry it took me a while to do this but hope you like it!
When Larissa passed away no one was more heartbroken than me. Weâd been together for less than a year and suddenly she was snatched away from me, I hadnât even gotten the chance to tell her I loved her. My only hope of seeing her again was dependent on my psychic ability to see spirits, but months passed and I didnât even hear a whisper.
I spent my nights in mourning, looking through our memory box of items and drinking her favourite red wine just to feel close to her again. But Iâd always end up drunk and crying as I poured over old photos, ticket stubs and pressed flowers. I even kept the mug sheâd made for me at a pottery class we went to on one of our first dates. It was lovingly crafted but a bit lopsided. Sheâd painted it white with different coloured flowers all over it and wrote a small message on the bottom, âyouâre my cup of teaâ. It was funny and romantic, just like her.
As Nevermoreâs librarian I found comfort and solace amongst the shelves of books and tomes. Before we were together Larissa would always take time out of her day to visit me there, under the pretense she was looking for a book to read during her breaks. But when I caught her staring at my legs while I was up a ladder one time I knew there was more to it. I playfully teased her about it until she finally asked me out and we sealed the deal with a secret kiss in the history section.
One afternoon I was in that same section, thinking back to that first kiss, when I heard hushed voices nearby. They seemed to be muttering with urgency and for some reason I felt a magnetic pull towards them. I turned a corner and saw Wednesday Addams hurriedly flipping through the pages of a leather bound book, but when I saw who was standing over her I almost burst into tears.
âLarissa?â
Both of them looked over at me and Larissa gasped, âoh my loveâŠyou can see me?â
I was too stunned to speak but managed a nod.
Wednesday closed the book she was holding as Larissa darted over to me with her arms outstretched, âIâve missed you so much darling!â
She threw her arms around me and held me close as I weeped into her chest, tears of joy that weâd been reunited at last. But I still had so many questions.
âHow are you here? How can you touch me?â
âIâm Wednesdayâs spirit guide. I suppose that means Iâm a little different from a ghost, so I can touch youâ she guessed.
âThis is amazing! I canât believe it!â I said and reached up to stroke her cheek, her skin was still as soft as silk.
âBut why didnât you come to me? As my guide?â I asked with a hint of disappointment.
âBecause spirit guides have to be blood related. It turns out Wednesday and I thirteenth cousins twice removed, so we share a minute bit of DNA that allows me to be her guideâ she explained, âand other blood relatives werenât exactly very forthcomingâ.
That wasnât surprising but I could feel my frustration growing.
âThenâŠwhy didnât you at least show yourself to me?â
âBelieve me I tried to, but the fates wouldnât allow it. You needed time to grieve. But I was with you my love, every day and every nightâ she told me but it didnât bring me comfort.
I spent a few moments gazing into those heavenly blue eyes of hers, still so full of life and love. It made me miss her more even though she was standing right in front of me.
âI still canât believe youâre here. I have so much to tell you-â I blurted out.
âSo do I love, but Iâm afraid that will have to wait for now. Something sinister is afoot and Wednesday needs my helpâ.
âI can handle things on my own thank youâ Wednesday snarked and Larissa went into principal mode.
âMiss Addams, I am here to assist you whether you like it or not! You need my knowledge of Nevermore and Jericho if weâre to put an end to this chaosâ she told her sternly.
Wednesday scoffed and Larissa shot her another scolding look, even in the afterlife she was still as strict as ever.
âI can help if you like?â I offered but Larissa immediately objected.
âNo darling, I canât have you putting yourself in danger. Iâve already lost my life to a psychopath, I wonât let the same fate befall youâ.
âThen let me help with your research at least. I know this library like the back of my hand and I have access to all of the archivesâ I told them.
Larissa and Wednesday shared a look considering my offer.
âAlrightâ Wednesday agreed, âbut keep your mind on the job. NoâŠdistractionsâ.Â
She shot a pointed glare at Larissa who rolled her eyes in annoyance.
This whole situation was a lot to process and I couldnât help but feel jealous of Wednesday. Her and Larissa never got along yet she had the privilege of having her as spirit guide and not me?! It felt so unfair, like some kind of cruel joke from beyond. But I quickly realised that although Larissa may not be my spirit guide my abilities had allowed me to see her again and for that I had never been more grateful.
For the next few hours the three of us trawled through various books, records and articles. We found some interesting newspaper clippings that told of scientific breakthroughs along with inhumane experiments conducted at Willow Hill. We also discovered that hydes become even more volatile when they lose their master, so now that Thornhill was dead Tyler was likely to be even more dangerous.
Larissa stayed by Wednesdayâs side the whole time and I could shake that envious feeling. I tried to push it aside and concentrate on the task at hand but Larissa could sense something was off.
âDarlingâ she said as she reached across the table to place her hand on mine, âare you alright?â
âMmhmmâ I nodded, but she could always tell when I was lying.
âCome over hereâ.
She took my hand and led me to a quieter part of the library, out of earshot from Wednesday.
âI know this has been a lot for you to take in but we do appreciate your helpâ Larissa thanked me.
âI just want us to be together again, but I have to share you with Wednesday bloody Addamsâ I snapped.
âI know. I think even the devil himself was reluctant to helpâ she joked and I let out a breathless laugh.
Larissa chuckled too then sighed, âthereâs that lovely smileâ.
She cupped my cheek and ran her thumb over my cheekbone to wipe a stray tear away.
âIâve missed you. More than you knowâ I said and pressed her hand harder into my cheek.
âI do know love. Iâve seen you struggling and Iâm sorry I couldnât reach out to you sooner. But now Iâm hereâŠstanding in the exact spot where we had our first kissâ she recalled.
âI remember. It was the best kiss Iâd ever hadâ I told her.
Her blue eyes softened as she cradled my cheek then she pulled me closer until our lips met, drawn together like magnets. It felt like an eternity had passed since I last kissed her and my next words were straight from the heart.
âI love youâ.
âI love you tooâ she replied and kissed me again.
After a few heavenly moments the moment was broken by a familiar deadpan voice.
âIf you two have finished canoodling Iâve found some more interesting information about hydesâ Wednesday informed us and walked back to her seat.
âTsk, duty callsâ Larissa sighed.
âI heard thatâ Wednesday retorted.
One of the drawbacks of Larissa being Wednesdayâs spirit guide was that she couldnât stray too far away from her. So later on, as Wednesday prepared to leave, I realised that Larissa couldnât stay either.
âWhere are you going?â I piped up.
âBack to my roomâ Wednesday said, âIâll continue my research thereâ.
âBut-"
Larissa saw panic flash across my face.
âItâs OK darling, weâll be back tomorrowâ she assured me.
âStay. I donât care. Iâve endured enough of your swooning for one dayâ Wednesday said bluntly.
âYou know the rules Miss Addams, where you go I goâ Larissa reminded her, âmoreâs the pityâ.
âLet me come with you, at least for a whileâ I pleaded.
Wednesday rolled her eyes, âfine. Iâll take the long route back to Ophelia Hall. But if I hear ANY romantic nonsense-â
âYou have every right to scold usâ I interjected.
âGood, because Iâd rather staple my eyelids shut than witness you two fawning over each otherâ.
Wednesday made for the door without looking back and I quickly followed, dashing around the table and grabbing Larissaâs hand.
I must have looked so strange to any onlookers, trailing behind Wednesday with my hand cupped at my side. But I didnât care, I could see Larissa next to me and feel her hand in mine just like when she was alive. It was so hard not to lead her to a quiet corner and have some proper alone time, but we abided Wednesdayâs strict rules.Â
However as we walked along one of the darker corridors Larissa decided to throw caution to the wind and pushed me into an alcove, it was only when Wednesday heard me giggling and Larissa shushing me that she realised what had happened and backtracked.
âI swear youâre worse than a pair of hormonal teenagers. I would knowâ Wednesday scolded us.
âI'll be sure to remind you of this when you're in love Miss Addamsâ Larissa promised as I fixed my mussed up hair.
âOh please. Hell will freeze over before that ever happensâ Wednesday replied firmly.
Just then we all heard a familiar cheerful voice call out Wednesdayâs name.
âThere you are! Iâve been looking everywhere for you!â Enid chirped.
âWell now youâve found meâ Wednesday answered dryly.
âOh hey Ms Y/L/Nâ Enid said as she spotted me over Wednesdayâs shoulder.
âWhat is it Enid?â Wednesday probed, âIâm busyâ.
âUmâŠI was just wondering if you wanted to grab some food together. You know, just you and me?â Enid asked shyly, her cheeks flushing pink as she fiddled with her finger and looked down at the floor.
âWell I neverâŠâ Larissa murmured, âlooks like someone has an admirerâ.Â
âShut upâ Wednesday hissed over her shoulder.
âHey I was only asking!â Enid said defensively, holding her hands up in surrender.
âSheâd love to Enid. In fact we were just heading to the cafeteriaâ I chipped in.
âWe were?â Wednesday and Larissa said in sync.
âYes. Iâm starving after all that researchâ I said and winked at Larissa.
Wednesday sighed, âfineâ.
âDonât sound too excited nowâ Enid quipped and we started walking.
âIâmâŠsorry. I justâŠhave a lot going on right nowâ Wednesday mumbled apologetically.
âI understand. But you know Iâm always here for you. No matter whatâ Enid told her and Larissa nudged me.
âThanks. I appreciate thatâ Wednesday replied and we could tell she meant it.
âNo problem bestieâ Enid said happily.
âBesties? Hmm, whatever you say Miss Sinclairâ Larissa mused.
âI swear to-â Wednesday hissed.
Wednesday walked alongside Enid to the cafeteria and every now and then I noticed their hands brush together, Enid even discreetly wrapped her pinkie around Wednesdayâs and surprisingly Wednesday didnât resist. Larissa giggled next to me and copied Enidâs small but meaningful gesture. I looked up at her and smiled, still in disbelief that she was even here.
I sat a few seats away from Wednesday and Enid once we reached the cafeteria giving them some space, Larissa sat next to me and was thoroughly entertained watching the pair. Enid chatted animatedly while Wednesday listened patiently.
âAh young loveâ she said wistfully.
âI know. Opposites really do attract, don't they?â I said as I tucked into a pasta bowl.
âIndeed. Who would have thought that Miss Sinclair would be the one to warm Wednesdayâs cold black heartâ.
I almost choked, âthatâs a little harsh isnât it? Surely she's not that bad?â
âHer words not mine!â Larissa stated.
I chuckled then clocked Wednesday and Enid holding hands under the table, Wednesdayâs thumb stroking Enidâs knuckles lovingly. I gasped a little loudly and Wednesday shot me a warning look, I quickly averted my gaze while Larissa sniggered.
âIt seems the little storm cloud has let some sunlight throughâ she mused.
âShut. Upâ Wednesday spat over at her but Larissa didnât care, she made a mental note to tease Wednesday about this later.
The next day Larissa and Wednesday came back to the library as promised and Larissa had a very mischievous grin on her face.
âWhatâs going on?â I asked curiously.
âWednesday here has agreed to let us spend someâŠquality time together. On the conditions that we donât tease her about a certain werewolf and leave her in peace to carry out her researchâ she explained.
âReally? So does that mean-?â
Larissa cut me off with a kiss then dragged me to the most secluded part of the library, the archives.
âTry to be quiet and if I need to borrow something Iâll just go around youâ Wednesday said and started working while me and Larissa got reacquainted in the same place where our story began.
howdy, friend. now what do you think about this idea for hurt/no comfort?
reader, a raven psychic, is in an established relationship with larissa. wondering about a bruise larissa has on her body, reader touches it and has a vision of larissa cheating on them with morticia, seeing the part where morticia leaves that "bruise" (perhaps a hickey) on larissa. bonus points if readers nose starts bleeding. mega bonus points if reader thought they were a normie, and this was their first vision.
love, kisses and hugs!
đââŹ
Marked
Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader
A/N: âWhat do you think about this idea for hurtâ IMMEDIATELY YES. I left the ending fairly open, so you guys can imagine what happens nextâŠGood or bad. I hope youâll enjoy what I did with your idea, thank you for the request!! <3
You donât notice it first. What you notice is the way Larissa fills a room. How she makes the doorway into a stage and herself into the necessary scene. You notice the velvet of her voice when she says hello, the low snow-bright hush of Nevermore settling around the windows. You notice that you missed her in the ordinary ways, the ways that arenât dramatic, the shape your day makes when it leans toward her.
Only when she shrugs off her coat does silk shift and a red bruise rises on her neck, small as a coin and just as undeniable.
You stop with the grocery bag halfway to the counter. Apples thunk and bump like clumsy hearts.
âWhat happened?â Your voice aims for light and lands a shade too careful.
âDoor,â Larissa says quickly. âI walked into it.â
You smile because that is what the script asks. âThe door won?â
âIt was very persuasive.â Sheâs already coming to you, already soft and smiling and threaded with warmth you have trained your days around. She kisses the corner of your mouth, then your mouth, and the week empties out of you like you accidentally set it down.
But the bruise sits there, ripe and wrong, and every time you remember to not look at it your whole face tries to look anyway.
âBig day?â you ask against her shoulder. Perfume and silk and the small contained power of her.
âEndless. Budget, board, parents.â Her fingers find the back of your neck like kindness thatâs memorized the route. âI thought about you when someone misquoted Shakespeare.â
âWhich play?â
âAll of them,â she says, and you laugh into her collar, but the bruise is a third presence. It waits.
In the bedroom the lamplight is generous and the curtains are a rumor of storm. Larissa starts on her buttons with that priestess efficiency you love her for. It has always felt like being let into something sacred, the ritual of it. You step in, reach for the last pearl because helping is how you say devotion. As you push the fabric from her shoulders, your thumb grazes the edge of red.
The world undoes its laces and spills.
No up, no down, just the sensation of being pulled through warm gold. The air tastes like a match right after it dies. A room resolves around you that is not the bedroom. You are not standing anywhere so much as existing inside the hinge of a moment that isnât yours.
Larissa is there. Laughing, lit from the throat. The earrings you picked in Verona catching the light. Her head tips back because someoneâs words are close enough to touch her.
Morticia Addams steps into the frame like sheâs been summoned by the idea of a shadow. Tall. Dark. A practiced ease that looks like history preserved under glass. She leans in. Her mouth is red in the ritual sense of the word. She says something you donât hear because you feel it instead, an ache under your breastbone. Larissaâs mouth parts on a small sound you havenât heard from her, and Morticiaâs lips close over the soft hollow at the base of Larissaâs throat. The press holds. The color rises. The bruise is made while you are there to witness the making.
Your body returns as if dropped. Knees on carpet. Hands catching ground. The lampâs gold crashes back like an insult, and your face goes hot, then wet. Your nose is bleeding, fast, an alarming ribbon.
âDarling?â Larissa is on her knees, her command shortened into care. âHeyâlook at me. Breathe.â
You look. Her hands are steady, her eyes are not. She tips your head, packs a tissue against your nose with a practiced, ridiculous gentleness, and you think: I touched the bruise and it opened a door.
You try not to say anything. For one long, dragging minute, you try to be the person you thought you wereâsensible, ordinary, the kind of lover who would joke about doors and clumsiness and help tuck the blouse away. But the truth in your chest is an animal that will not be domesticated by kindness.
âI saw something,â you say, voice raw. âWhen I touched you.â
Larissa stills. Not theatrically, but in the tiny, decisive way a whole sea stills when the wind drops. âYou fainted,â she says, and she is trying to be kind.
âI saw Morticia.â The name is fire in your mouth. You swallow anyway. âI saw her mouth. Here.â You point, shaky, to the place the bruise blooms. âI saw her leave that.â
The tissue goes redder in her hand. She doesnât let go of your face. She doesnât reach for a lie fast enough to save either of you.
âLarissa,â you say, and itâs almost a plea, and also a verdict.
Her lips part. A hundred versions of herâprincipal, survivor, queenâsort themselves behind her eyes and step aside for the one that can do this without shattering the furniture. âYes,â she says, plain. âMorticia was here. This afternoon.â
The room narrows. Your blood is too loud. You nod because your body needs to do something that resembles an answer.
âShe was here,â you echo, âand sheââ
âShe kissed me.â Larissaâs voice doesnât beg. It doesnât explain yet, either. It just says the thing. âI let her.â
Everything in you that can tear does.
You pull back, tissue limp in your hand. The lamp is suddenly too polite, the bed intrusive, your own name a poor fit. âI touched you and saw it,â you say, as if thatâs the strangest part, and maybe it is. âI thinkâLarissa, I think Iâm a raven.â
Something like awe, grief, and recognition passes over her, quick as an eclipse. âOf course you are,â she says softly, like sheâs placing a crown you didnât know youâd earned. âThat explains so much.â
âDonât.â Your laugh is brittle. âDonât make it pretty.â
âIâm not.â She folds her hands together to keep from reaching. âYou deserve truth, not dressing.â
âThen give it.â
A beat. Two. Larissa inhales like sheâs stepping into an auditorium. âIt wasâfoolish,â she says. âSelfish. She came to discuss alumni donations. We had wine. We talked about old things that know how to sound like safety. I felt⊠lonely on a crowded day. I wanted to be wanted without instructions. She is very good at asking for what she wants.â
âAnd you are very good at saying yes.â Your mouth tastes like iron and the word disappointment.
Her flinch is an elegant, controlled thingâblink and you miss it. âSometimes,â she admits. âI am good at many things I wish I wasnât.â
The blood has slowed. The throbbing hasnât. You sit up, wipe your lip with the back of your hand, and the sheer ordinariness of the gesture scrapes something raw. âHow long would you have let me believe a door did that?â
âI hadnât decided.â Sheâs honest. It makes it worse and better. âI wanted to tell you. I wanted not to ruin the one uncomplicated thing I have ever allowed myself.â
âUncomplicated?â You let out a sound you donât recognize as yours. âYou let Morticia mark you and came home to me.â
âI came home to you,â she says, and it lands messy and true.
You stand because sitting feels too defenseless. âI canâtââ You hold your hands out, helpless in the space between fury and grief. âI canât unknow it. Itâs in me. I touched you and it lives in my head now.â
Her gaze glances towards your handsâas if she can feel the echo tooâand she nods, small, as if taking notes in a language she hasnât used in years. âIâm sorry,â she says, and thereâs nothing ornamental on it. âFor doing it. For letting you find out like that. For all of the above.â
You want to wound her with words, and you also want to lay down on her chest and listen to her heart and give this a different ending. Both wants are true, both wants are terrible.
âDo you love her?â you ask, low. You donât know which answer would be worse.
âNo.â No hesitation. âNot like I love you.â She steps once closer and stops, as if the carpet has a line painted on it. âBut I love what she reminds me of. A girl who wasnât always careful. A woman who believed wanting made her invulnerable.â
âAnd me?â Your own voice breaks into the question. âWhat do I remind you of?â
âHome.â The word lands so softly you almost miss the damage it does. âYou remind me that I survived. That I donât have to audition in my own life.â
You close your eyes because tears would be too much. The bruise lives behind your lids anyway. When you open them, your hands are steadier, which feels like betrayal to your hurt. âSo what now? Do I pretend a door did it? Do I nod at parents meetings when she walks by and I know what her mouth did?â
âNo.â Larissaâs answer is savage with certainty. âYou owe nobody that.â
âAvoid her. Build a moat.â It comes out meaner than you mean.
âIf a moat would save us, Iâd build it in a night.â Her mouth twists. âBut sheâs the mother of a student. Soon two. A ghost with a seat at the table.â
âSo am I.â You aim a small, rueful smile at the floor.
Larissa almost smiles back, then doesnât, because today does not believe in mercy. âTell me what you need,â she says instead, and there is a softness in the command that undoes you more efficiently than shouting could.
You let silence push against both of you until it hurts. You try out a dozen answers in your head and watch each one fail. Finally: âI need you to be done with her.â
Larissa exhales through her nose like sheâs swallowing glass. âI can promise to not see her privately again,â she says, and the qualifiers in the sentence clings hard enough to bruise. âI can move meetings, insist on public spaces, refuse wine. I can make it so thereâs no room for⊠this.â
âIt already happened.â Your voice is small and, somehow, colder. âIt will keep having happened.â
She closes her eyes. When she opens them, the blue is steady. âThen let me spend the rest of my days making sure it is the worst thing I do to you.â
You hate that your heart lurches towards that vow like a dog towards a familiar whistle. âI donât know if I can forgive you,â you say, and itâs the truest thing youâve ever said, and the most insufficient. âNot yet.â
âI will not ask you to hurry.â She lifts her hands andâslowly, like a tide negotiating with rocksâsets them back down at her sides. âI wonât touch you unless you ask. I wonât explain myself into your mercy. If you want me gone, I will go. If you want me to sleep on the sofa, I will fold myself obediently into repentance.â
The tenderness in her choosing obedience for you is so naked it makes anger feel like cruelty. You look at the bed, the lamp, the bruise. âI want the truth,â you say, hoarse. âAll of it. No theatre. No editing for my comfort. If we try to patch the hole with pretty, itâll just sink slower.â
âTruth,â she repeats, as if swearing in a church you built together. âYou have it.â
âAnd I donât know what we will be tomorrow.â
Something cracks at the edges of her composure. Not much. Enough that you see the woman under the principal. âWeâll be whatever you can bear,â she whispers. âIf that is strangers, I will learn your face again from across a hallway. If that is⊠not yet, I will be not yet until my bones ache with it.â
Your nose twinges like a memory. You wipe it, your fingers come away clean. The bleeding stopped. The hurt didnât.
âOkay,â you say finally, and it is not forgiveness, not even a reprieve. It is a boundary at the edge of a cliff. âOne week. No Morticia. No wine. No pretending. We talk or weâre silent, but we donât lie. I⊠need to see if I can breathe in here.â
Larissa nods once, again, as if counting off measures. âOne week,â she says. âIâll rearrange the earth if that buys us another day.â
âDonât,â you say quickly, because you know her. âDonât perform miracles at me. Justâbe simple.â
She huffs a laugh that isnât a laugh. âI donât know if I remember how.â
âLearn,â you say, and itâs almost gentle.
She looks at you like a vow she plans to keep even if it kills her. âI will.â
You should leave. Or stay. You put the groceries away because it feels like something a person does when the ground gives under their feetâfind a small surface and make order. Larissa stands at the counter with quiet hands, not touching, not instructing, not filling the silence with anything you didnât invite. Every once in a while you feel her looking at you and it is a relief and a wound.
When you head for the door, she doesnât follow. She has learned enough in one evening to let you be the one who moves or doesnât. You stop. Your hand on the knob. The suite smells like tea, dust, and the first snow. The red coin on her neck is blazing.
You turn back. âI keep seeing it,â you admit, barely audible. âThe room. The light. Her. You.â
âI know.â Larissaâs voice is soft enough you almost donât hear it. âThen let me change the end, at least. Tonight, I am alone in this room. Tomorrow, I am alone. And the day after, and the day after, until the picture in your head grows bored and leaves.â
âThatâs not how memories work,â you say.
âIâm stubborn,â she says, and something like a smile ghosts her mouth. âI might win.â
You shake your head. The ache doesnât lighten, but it becomes bearable enough to walk with. âIâll text,â you manage. âAbout⊠breakfast. Or not.â
âIâll be here.â She stands straighter, as if bracing for weather. âWhatever you decide.â
You open the door and the corridorâs cold takes a small bite out of your cheek. You step through before you can change your mind. A minute later, youâre halfway down the hall and your face breaks without witnesses. You hold the banister, breathing like youâre learning a new set of lungs.
Somewhere outside, a raven drags a cry across the winter eveningâcomplaint, omen, song. You donât know which. Maybe all three. You whisper to the bird or to yourself, you canât tell which: âI hear you.â
Behind you, in her lamplight, Larissa stands still and does not chase. It hurts in a way that feels like love trying hard enough to resemble penance.
One week, you think, and the thought is equal parts promise and threat.
So we have Principal Barry Dort, who manipulates students and gives out ugly stickers.
And then we had Larissa Weems.
Larissa Weems who drove her students to therapy.
Larissa Weems who would have surely taught Enid how to drive herself if need be.
Larissa Weems who would have welcomed Bianca's mother at Nevermore, had Bianca dared to ask for help.
Larissa Weems who must have felt so used sometimes being explicitly and implicitly asked to use her powers âsince that's all anybody asks of shapeshifters at Nevermore, apparentlyâ, but who did it anyway to protect her school.
Larissa Weems who must have been the only model for some young shapeshifters âwhich are evidently under-represented Outcastsâ who now have nobody like them to look up to.
Larissa who knew what being a Nevermore student is like and could probably talk about its so-called "former glory" better than anyone else.
Larissa Weems who didn't partake in positive discrimination and didn't want to exacerbate her students' differences, but rather to help them feel safe in a world that was not meant for them while encouraging them to develop their abilities.
Larissa Weems who worked her arse off and never put anybody's reputation on the line but her own when trying to find sufficient funding for her school.
Larissa Weems who convinced the board to accept a student with homicidal ideation instead of using that same board as an excuse to let the most vulnerable students go to fend for themselves amongst the Normies.
Larissa Weems who put her own pain aside just to see one more Outcast be taught in a safe space and finally make friends.
Larissa Weems who ensured Xavier and Eugene could have their own spaces to explore their abilities.
Larissa Weems who died for Nevermore.
Larissa Weems who didn't put GODDAMN PURPLE ALL OVER THE GODDAMN WALLS.
