Are There Confirmed Waite Spin-Offs In Development?

Huh — when someone drops the name 'Waite' in a manga context, my brain splits into two tracks: the historical occultist Arthur Edward Waite, and the possibility that you mean a character named Waite (or a similar-sounding name) who appears in some story. I’ll walk through both possibilities and give you ways to pin down exactly which one you’re asking about, because I’ve gotten tangled up in name confusions like this more than once while scrolling forums at 2 a.m. with a bowl of instant ramen beside me. If you meant the real-world figure, Arthur Edward Waite is the one behind the famous 'Rider-Waite' tarot deck (sometimes called the 'Rider-Waite-Smith' deck). He was born in 1857 and was deeply involved in late-19th-century occult circles — notably the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. Waite was more of a scholar and mystic than a flashy ritualist; he aimed to systematize and synthesize occult knowledge. In 1909 he worked with artist Pamela Colman Smith to create the deck that modern tarot readers still use heavily. The deck’s imagery and Waite’s writings, like 'The Pictorial Key to the Tarot', have traveled into pop culture and inspired countless creators. So if a manga references 'Waite' as a tarot authority or uses tarot symbolism, chances are they’re nodding to him or to the influence of the deck he promoted. If, on the other hand, you meant a fictional character named Waite in a particular manga, I’ll need a tiny clarifying detail (a panel, volume, a plot hook) to be precise. Sometimes names get localized weirdly; 'Waite' might be a transliteration, a last name, or even a mistranslation of 'White', 'Wight', or something phonetically similar. In stories that borrow occult or tarot themes — like how 'JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure' repeatedly uses tarot and musical references, or how 'Pandora Hearts' and other gothic series riff on myth and symbolism — writers often either use the name directly or cook up a character inspired by those occult archetypes. If you’re seeing rites, arcana-themed powers, a mysterious scholar, or a tarot deck in the panels, the creators are probably borrowing from the Rider-Waite visual language rather than telling a literal biography of Arthur Waite. If you want me to dig into the exact manga you’re reading, toss me the title, a screenshot of the page (if you can), or even a short quote. I can trace whether the manga invents a character named Waite, uses the name as homage, or simply borrows tarot imagery and rebrands it. Meanwhile, if you’re fansurfing and trying to find canonical background: check the author’s afterword or omake pages (mangaka love dropping lore there), the publisher’s character guides, and dedicated wikis or fan translations — they usually compile interview snippets that explain a naming choice. Personally, I love when creators layer real occult references into their world-building; it gives prime conspiracy-theory fuel for late-night forum rabbit holes, and I’m always up for guiding someone down one of those warren paths if you hand me the exact manga title.

There’s something deliciously theatrical about why an author would cast Waite as the antagonist, and I always get a little giddy thinking about those narrative gears turning. From where I sit—somewhere between a bookworm who devours plot twists and a chatty forum-goer who loves dissecting motives—Waite feels like the perfect tool for an author to pry open the story’s deeper themes. An antagonist isn’t just a roadblock; they’re often the mirror that reflects the protagonist’s blind spots, and Waite’s design lets the writer externalize conflict in a way that’s both personal and systemic. When I think of Waite, I picture a character who embodies the story’s moral ambiguity. Authors love complexity, and making Waite antagonistic gives them the chance to avoid a cardboard-villain trap. Instead of being bad for badness’ sake, Waite can represent consequences, misunderstood values, or a corrupted ideal. That’s the kind of thing that keeps me up late after a chapter—wondering if the villain is actually the more honest option in a broken system. This is the same trick used in 'Watchmen' or 'Death Note' where the so-called antagonist forces readers to reconsider their own ethics. Functionally, Waite gives the plot urgency. A protagonist needs true opposition to grow; having Waite push back, outmaneuver, or even philosophically challenge the hero creates meaningful stakes. The author might use Waite to escalate tensions gradually—tightening pressure so character choices matter. And on a worldbuilding level, a character like Waite can expose institutions, history, and social fractures the hero wouldn’t discover alone. It’s like reading a game walkthrough where the boss fight isn’t just about stats but about understanding why the boss exists in the first place. Finally, there’s the emotional payoff. By crafting Waite with layers—flaws, regrets, perhaps a sympathetic backstory—the author can reward readers with complicated feelings instead of a neat black-and-white showdown. I love when a villain’s last monologue reveals that they and the protagonist are two sides of the same coin; it makes the eventual resolution feel earned, or heartbreakingly inevitable. That sort of storytelling sticks with me for weeks, and I’m sure the author put Waite there to do exactly that: complicate the story in a way that’s more satisfying than a simple beaten-bad-guy trope.

I get why you'd ask—'waite' is a small word that can hide a surprisingly big role depending on the series. When I read a book with a character named waite (or a title like that), I look for two things: presence in POV chapters and how the narrator frames them. If waite shows up in multiple POVs or gets her own chapters, she’s probably central—either driving the main plot or revealing crucial worldbuilding. If she mostly appears in other characters’ scenes, she might be a catalyst: someone whose actions push the protagonist into change. There’s also symbolism. Names like waite can be thematically loaded—wait, patience, a gatekeeper figure, or even a pun on someone who serves. So in some series waite functions as mentor, in others as a moral mirror, and sometimes as the unreliable element that keeps you guessing. If you want, tell me which novel series you mean and I’ll dig into specifics; otherwise I’m happy to walk through clues you can check in the text (chapter headings, dialogue emphasis, and who reacts to waite the most). I’m curious which direction the author took here—cunning trickster, quiet anchor, or secret mastermind?

I got pulled into this kind of detective work once while half-listening to a soundtrack at a coffee shop and flipping through a paperback tarot guide — the details stuck with me. If the thing you mean by 'waite' is the 'Rider-Waite' tarot imagery, then the track that 'references Waite in the score' is almost never labeled literally as 'Waite' on commercial albums. Instead, composers nod to tarot by naming cues after arcana (think 'The Fool', 'Death', 'The High Priestess', 'Arcana Suite') or by using haunting harp figures, bell motifs, or choir textures that feel ritualistic. So start by scanning the track list for any tarot/arcana words, or for scene cue titles that imply divination: 'Reading', 'Parlor', 'Cards', 'The Ritual' — those are your best bets. If that scan turns up nothing, dive into the liner notes and the album booklet (physical or PDF). Composers often drop little credits: "inspired by imagery from the 'Rider-Waite' deck" or mention consultants who provided visual references. Digital platforms sometimes hide fuller metadata, so check Discogs, the label's press release, or the film/TV production's music cue sheet (published by the production or available through performing-rights organizations). I once found a composer thank-you that specifically cited a tarot artist — it read like a small wink to fans. When the soundtrack itself is ambiguous, use audio sleuthing: capture the scene audio and look at the track timing — many OSTs map cues to exact scene times in the booklet or on fan sites like 'Tunefind' and 'Discogs'. If a track has whispered names, spoken phrases, or a choir reciting card titles, those vocal stems sometimes credit the text's source. Also, ask on forums where soundtrack nerds hang out — give a short clip or a timestamp of the episode/film. I’ve gotten answers from strangers within hours by posting a 10-second snippet and saying, "which cue plays here?" If you want, describe what you heard (instruments, any sung words, the scene) and I’ll help narrow it down. Personally, I love the feeling of matching a mysterious cue to a visual: it’s like finding a hidden message in a favorite book, and I’ll happily keep poking until we find the exact track.

I get the urge—there’s something so satisfying about watching the bits that didn’t make the final cut. If you’re hunting for deleted scenes from 'Waite', start with the obvious official routes because studios love tucking extras into release packages. Check the Blu‑ray / DVD special features listings (look on Blu-ray.com or the product page at Amazon) — many deleted scenes live there, sometimes under ‘extras’, ‘deleted scenes’, or ‘extended scenes’. Streaming platforms occasionally include extras too: Netflix, Prime Video, HBO Max and the like will sometimes have a separate ‘Extras’ tab. If 'Waite' has a special edition or a ‘director’s cut’, those editions often integrate deleted scenes into the longer runtime or put them in a bonus features section. If the official releases come up empty, widen the net to creator channels and social platforms. Directors, editors, or the film’s official social accounts sometimes post clips to YouTube, Instagram, or Twitter/X. Use search operators like site:youtube.com "'Waite' deleted scene" or "'Waite' blooper"—those little tricks can filter out noise. Reddit can be a goldmine too: look for a subreddit for the show/film, or search r/Movies and r/ObscureMedia. Fans will often upload or point to where a scene surfaced. Archive.org occasionally hosts clips, especially for older or public domain stuff, so it’s worth a search there as well. A couple of practical tips from my own digging: try searching for alternate spellings, character names, or the director’s name alongside "deleted scene"; look for DVD region variants (Region A vs B vs Free) because extras sometimes differ by territory; and check soundtrack and commentary track notes—sometimes a commentator mentions a scene and where it lives. Be mindful of legality: official releases, creator uploads, and libraries are the best ways to support the people who made the work. If you only find bootleg uploads, think twice before downloading; streaming an unofficial clip is different from supporting responsible distribution. If all else fails, reach out politely to the production company or the editor on social media—creatives sometimes reply and point fans to hidden gems. I love hunting these down late at night with snacks and a notepad; it makes rewatching feel like discovering secrets with friends.

On a rainy Saturday when I was half-asleep watching late-night films, the character named Waite in that movie stopped feeling like just a person and started feeling like an idea — and I think that's exactly what the director wanted. Waite can be read as a multilayered symbol rather than a straightforward character: a name that echoes waiting, a nod to mysticism if you bring the 'Rider–Waite' tarot into play, and a social cipher for service, class, or liminality depending on how they're framed on screen. My gut reaction on the first watch was emotional — sympathy, curiosity — but on rewatches I became more analytical and started picking up on recurring visual cues that made me read Waite as a living metaphor for time and thresholds. If you parse the name literally, 'Waite' resonates a lot with the verb 'to wait'. Films love using that kind of homophone to layer meaning. Scenes where Waite lingers in doorways, where clocks are pushed into the background, or where narration lags just a beat when Waite is present, all point toward a theme of suspended time. I’ve noticed directors use this to create tension: the audience feels the weight of anticipation through Waite. In another register, the surname-as-duty idea plays out when Waite functions in a servile or facilitative role — not necessarily a waiter, but someone who holds the space between other characters’ decisions. That social interstitial role can comment on class, invisibility, or emotional labor, especially when cinematography isolates Waite in reflections or in dimly lit frames. Then there's the quieter, esoteric layer: the 'Rider–Waite' tarot deck. If the film drops tarot imagery — cards, cycles of seasons, a palette of golds and deep blues, or repeated references to archetypes (the fool, the hermit, the tower) — Waite might be intentionally channeling that lineage. I once caught a film where Waite’s costume subtly mirrored the Hanged Man: upside-down motifs in a jacket’s lining, suspended ropes in the background, a scene where Waite’s decisions reframed other characters’ destinies. That suggested the character is a conduit of fate or a mirror for the protagonist’s inner transformation. Even when the tarot link isn’t explicit, thinking about Waite through that lens opens up readings about knowledge vs. ignorance, initiation, and ritual-like repetition in the plot. Practical signs to watch for if you want to decode Waite: repeated objects associated with them, sound cues that begin or end when they appear, lighting shifts, and how other characters respond nonverbally. I like to rewatch with headphones and pause on frames with Waite alone — the little details (a linger on their hands, the extra beat before a line) often reveal symbolic intent. Personally, I love how ambiguous symbolism keeps me thinking about a film days later; Waite isn’t just a person in that room, they’re the idea that keeps nudging the story forward. If you rewatch with these angles in mind, you might find the film changing shape around Waite every time.

There’s a really satisfying way the 'Rider-Waite' imagery sits on top of the hero’s arc that makes watching a series feel almost ritualistic — like turning pages of a mythic calendar as seasons pass. At its simplest, the Major Arcana reads like a seasonal map: the Fool as spring’s bright, impulsive kickoff; the Sun, Empress, and Emperor as the lush, energetic summer chapters where growth and conflict bloom; Hanged Man, Death, and Temperance as autumnal pruning and transformation; and the Tower, Star, and World holding the cold, clear winter of climax, revelation, and completion. I love using that lens when I binge a show or read a long-running comic: it gives each season a kind of weather, an emotional palette that helps explain why a middle season might feel so different from the premiere or finale. When I was younger and obsessed with myth lectures and messy notebooks, I used to map characters to individual Major Arcana cards and then track how those cards ‘cycled’ across seasons. One time I did this while watching 'Avatar: The Last Airbender' for the umpteenth time — season one had such a Fool/ Magician energy for Aang and his crew, season two dropped into a Hermit/Hanged Man mood as characters hit their limits, and by season three the Justice/Strength/World vibes were all over the place. Sitting on the couch with snacks and index cards felt like a tiny ritual: every time a character pivoted, I moved a card. It turned story-watching into story-sensing, where plot beats felt like seasonal climate changes rather than random writer whims. These days I’m older and a little more skeptical, so I enjoy the method as both metaphor and analytical tool. The 'Rider-Waite' symbols aren’t literal script notes, but they’re wonderfully flexible for reading long-term character growth across seasons. For serialized TV or anime — think of a sprawling epic like 'One Piece' or a tone-shifting drama like 'Breaking Bad' — the Major Arcana can highlight where a protagonist is in their psychological year. The minor arcana act like weather patterns: cups for relational storms, swords for ideological winters, wands for ambition-fueled summers. A season dominated by swords might be full of moral compromise and sharp consequences, while a cups-heavy stretch will slow things down and make every glance and conversation carry weight. If you’re into trying this yourself, don’t over-formalize it. Pick a show you love and assign a card to the main character at the start of each season, then revisit after finishing and see how well the symbol fits in hindsight. I like doing this with friends over drinks — we argue about whether a season was truly a 'Death' moment or more of a 'Hanged Man' pause — and those debates always reveal new layers in the storytelling. It’s the kind of hobby that keeps me excited to rewatch things, because you start noticing the small recurring motifs, the visual cues and dialogue beats that echo the tarot’s archetypes. Give it a go and let the seasons tell you a slightly different version of the hero’s journey next time you press play; it’s oddly comforting and endlessly curious.

Man, I love digs like this where the tiniest name can send you down a rabbit hole. I’m not 100% sure which film adaptation you mean when you say 'Waite'—that surname shows up occasionally and sometimes spelling gets shifted in credits—so I’d want to narrow it down with you. From my own digging habits, the fastest route is to check the film’s IMDb cast page or the end credits (I’ve solved so many “who’s that?” mysteries pausing Blu‑ray credits at 1.5x). If 'Waite' is a minor role, it might only show up on IMDb or in the full script/subtitles. If you tell me the book title or the year of the film, I can be way more specific and point at the actor name or even a clip. If you’re doing this alone for fun, try searching "Waite" plus the film title in quotes on Google, or "site:imdb.com Waite"—that usually surfaces cast listings or character mentions. Throw me the title and I’ll help track down the exact cast credit; otherwise I’ll help you craft the right searches.