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theadventurousdork · 4 years

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Dani Clayton and Jamie Taylor: A scene by scene study on the dynamism of a queer romance

by theadventurousdork

Well, here we are! An unnecessarily long essay breaking down Dani and Jamie’s scenes together that I decided to write purely for the fact that they have taken a hold of my queer little heart and haven’t given it back yet. Grab some awful tea or coffee and take a read, if you’d like!

Episode One

In this episode, we see Dani and Jamie meet for the very first time. This is the beginning of them and their story. It all starts in the kitchen of Bly Manor where a dirt covered Jamie walks in just in time for the residents of Bly to gather for an afternoon lunch.

“The gardener didn’t even introduce herself to the new au pair. She barely acknowledged her at all. Simply treated her as if she’d always been there. The others in the room just assumed they’d already met, which, if she were honest, was how the au pair felt when she first saw the young woman.”

Jamie walks in without even batting an eye to the new guest meanwhile, we see a soft eyed Dani looking over at the gardener with a gaze that gives the audience the first look to the gravitational pull that seems to be set between them. With Dani explaining her belief that she has seen someone on the parapet of the old wing, Jamie’s reaction is cold. She looks down at the table with a hardened look. She looks almost hurt. We learn later on that Jamie was the first adult resident of Bly to find the dead body of Rebecca Jessel floating in the lake of the manor which has probably resulted in trauma for Jamie as she remembers her late friend. With Owen and Hannah also finding the possibility of someone being on the balcony to be slim, the residents carry on with their meal. As the introduction to Jamie’s character, we are able to see her cold and guarded exterior. However, we also see her wit and humor as she comfortably pokes fun at Miles and Flora. The space she takes when she walks into a room isn’t empty for she fills it with her bold personality and Dani immediately takes notice of this yet she doesn’t show any hint of openly acknowledging it.

Episode Two

Episode two sheds a different light on the pairing. This episode gives us the first look at Dani’s trauma and the weight that she’s feeling on her conscience. But first, we see her changing the tide at Bly as she puts Miles and Flora to work in the garden as punishment for locking her in a closet. As Dani and the children pull weeds, a relaxed Hannah and Jamie watch from a distance just as Owen offers them drinks. As the trio sip on their gin and tea, they discuss Dani and how her presence is a nice addition to the grounds of Bly. This is where something I call “testing of the waters: part one” occurs. Jamie asks Owen if he thinks that Dani’s pretty before continuing to poke fun at his inability to answer. Now this seems rude, especially considering Hannah’s negative reaction to it even going as far as to remind her that romances don’t fare well at Bly. However, I feel like Jamie does this purposefully to see if Owen would provide any reaction that would indicate that he would have any intent of pursuing Dani, which he quickly shuts down as he states that he only has eyes for Hannah. Jamie’s choice to do this can boil down to a simple poking of fun or maybe something more in terms of her trying to understand, and maybe even deny, the gravitational pull that she’s feeling towards Dani by deflecting it to Owen.

This episode also offers the first glimpse into Jamie’s humanity and her deeply empathetic nature. As a distressed Dani storms outside in tears after being triggered from seeing her dead ex-fiancé’s glasses, our favorite gardener comes to the rescue with buckets in hand. Now this is probably the first time that Dani has physically seen Edmund’s glasses since she packed them away before leaving Bly which can explain her intense reaction to finding Flora wearing them. The part to highlight about this interaction between Jamie and Dani isn’t the fact that Jamie tries to console her but is the way that she does so. First and foremost, the gardener tries to make au pair laugh. She makes multiple attempts in her dialogue to make Dani crack the slightest smile. Jamie’s dialogue saying, “there we are,” after Dani finally gives into the attempted jokes shows how laughter was Jamie’s initial goal.

“How else do you think I keep all these fucking plants watered? With my endless well of deep inconsolable tears. That’s how. It’s what got me the job in the first place.”

After she accomplishes this, she goes on to relate to Dani by telling her that she cries several times a day in an effort to make Dani feel normal and not alone in her vulnerable state. To see someone as cold and guarded as Jamie admit to something like this quickly humanizes her and puts her in the position of becoming a dynamic character. Finally, Jamie tells the au pair that she’s doing a great job and leaves a smiling Dani to watch her as she leaves. This offers insight to how Jamie doesn’t like seeing people in distress. She radiates a grounding energy and puts it upon herself to ensure that no one feels like they’re in over their head.

Dani is able to return the favor as she finds an angry Jamie kneeled over a massacre of her rose bushes. Jamie’s hotheaded attitude is shown as she wastes no time getting up to confront Miles for cutting her roses before they were ready. The point to highlight in this moment is that Dani hears her out. Dani listens to Jamie’s grievances and not once tells her that she’s overreacting. Dani hasn’t known Jamie for long but she knows the importance of plants to the gardener and she doesn’t give Miles a pass at ruining something that matters so much to her. Having two separate scenes showing that each half of the pair have the power to talk each other down regardless of having known each other long, serves as a taste as what’s to come for their journey together.

Episode Three

Here we see “testing of the waters: part two” as the keepers of Bly watch over a sleeping Miles and Flora by a crackling fireplace. A tired Hannah rests her head on Owen’s shoulder as Dani and Jamie watch from across the room. Jamie goes onto ask Dani if she wishes she were leaning on Owen instead of Hannah and explains how every woman in town fawns over Owen without him even knowing it. This key moment goes hand in hand with Jamie’s testing of the waters in episode 2 when she tests Owen’s potential attraction to Dani to now testing to see if Dani would be interested in Owen. Jamie’s subtle comments allow her to see the odds of Dani liking Owen without risking any awkward interaction that would potentially be too invasive. With Owen being the only man in the house, it’s understandable for Jamie to want to see if Dani would pursue him which in turn would signal that Dani may not be interested in someone like her.

What comes next is what I like to believe is the moment that Jamie begins to fall for Dani and I mean really fall for her. The conversation about love and possession is beautifully done and sets the distinction that will go onto separate Peter and Rebecca from Dani and Jamie. After a vindictive history lesson on the toxicity of Peter and Rebecca’s relationship, Jamie mentions the idea of loving someone versus possessing someone to which Dani replies that she doesn’t believe should be possible. The effect of this is seen on Jamie’s face as she looks at Dani. It’s a face that says that she’s staring at someone who understands. Understands the fragility of love and the thin lines that separate healthy versions of love from toxic ones. It happens in the span of a second but we can see a switch click in Jamie’s mind just before she breaks her gaze. From what we collect of Jamie’s past a few episodes later, we come to understand that she has always been owned. Stemming from a broken home and growing up in the foster care system, Jamie has always been someone else’s possession to claim ownership of but never was truly loved and nurtured. To hear someone finally understand that there’s a distinction between loving someone versus feeling like they have the right of possessing them, must feel like a moment of overdue comfort.

After a restless night due to seeing Edmund’s ghost again, Dani wakes up the following morning to see Jamie asleep on the couch. This scene lasts merely thirty seconds so why make the choice to keep it in? What significance does it really hold? Is there any significance at all? For me, the significance is comfort. I feel like there’s a level of comfort that Dani feels when she realizes that Jamie was just down the stairs as she laid awake the night prior feeling as if she were alone in the depths of her own shadows.

The new day ends in the tragic news that Owen’s mom has passed away. After a sympathetic Hannah sends Owen off and leaves to light a candle for the deceased, the gardener and au pair are left to give their own goodbyes to each other. As Dani voices that she’s glad that Jamie stayed on the grounds throughout the day and the night prior, Jamie agrees and the two share an uninterrupted gaze at one another. Here is where we see Dani’s first advance as she takes hold of Jamie’s hand. Ever so slightly does Jamie latch back before Dani quickly pulls away.

“Who the hell knew?”

Those words leave Jamie’s mouth as a mixture of relief and shock paint her face as she gets into her car. Dani watches her drive away with an expression that reads “did I really do what I think I just did?” This moment is cut short as she turns around to see Edmund’s ghost staring blankly from behind her. Fear overcomes Dani and a scream is let out as Edmund gets sucked backwards by an invisible force. Up until this point, Edmund’s ghost has remained stagnant, either appearing in a reflection or in parts. This extreme motion of getting pulled backward into the manor can be read as a way to reflect the intensity of the emotions that Dani is feeling in that exact moment. The amount of tension that Dani must have felt to muster up the courage to reach for Jamie’s hand must have been extremely intense which in turn would evoke an intense manifestation of Edmund’s ghost.

Episode Four

Episode four is what I call the episode of guilt. In this hour, we delve deeper into Dani’s past and the darkness that she’s been holding in her heart. Dani’s life just before Bly is revealed and we see snippets of her life with Edmund. From childhood best friends to teenage lovers to getting engaged, Dani and Edmund almost seemed like the perfect set up to an 80s romcom. Almost is the key word here as it’s revealed that Dani breaks up with Edmund just before he storms out of their car into the path of an oncoming truck, killing him right in front of her thus revealing why Edmund is haunting her. Flashforward to Bly, Dani has begun to see Edmund’s ghost more and more. His first appearance in the episode is in Dani’s bedroom mirror just as Jamie helps unzip her dress. If it weren’t apparent in the episodes prior, Dani holds an immense amount of guilt. This guilt doesn’t only stem from being the reason why Edmund was killed but also lies in who she is. Edmund’s presence is symbolic for the guilt that Dani feels whenever she is just on the brink of exploring her sexuality. We see that every interaction that Dani has with Edmund’s ghost occurs just after she shares a moment with Jamie. With Jamie being a tangible representation of what Dani desires, her visions of Edmund become more intense and more frequent as her guilt increases.

The episode continues to show Dani experiencing Edmund’s haunting again when Jamie arrives back to the manor after attending Owen’s mom’s funeral. Here we see Dani catching herself staring at Jamie from across the table. When Jamie catches her gaze, Dani retreats to the sink where we see a mixture of nervousness and excitement across Dani’s face as she looks over her shoulder to take one more look. This moment filled with butterflies and yearning is cut short as Edmund’s hands slide across Dani’s hips as she sees him in a reflection which causes her to panic. Edmund’s presence is growing closer and stronger as Dani has begun to navigate her feelings for Jamie.

In a flashback, we get a glimpse into possibly one of the first times that Dani’s internal conflict of her sexuality crosses her mind. As Dani gets a dress fitted, the female tailor makes flirtatious passes at her. We see Dani acknowledge these advances and isn’t opposed to them occurring. The scene switches to a guilt stricken Dani, her eyebrows furrowed above saddened eyes that wander upward to Jamie who’s helping prep the table for dinner. This quick glance up to Jamie holds so much. The internal turmoil that Dani is feeling in this moment is palpable. To think that all of her moments of repression have led up to this. This feeling of wanting. This feeling of yearning. To live openly and authentically as the person she’s always been.

Later that night, the keepers of Bly hold a bonfire to honor those that they’ve lost. A weight can be felt on the four as they remember their late loved ones by the warmth of the fire. The concept of found family lies in the heart of those who find a home at Bly and can be seen through Hannah and Jamie’s odes to the late Rebecca, Dominic, and Charlotte.

“Because from here on in, the shadows get deeper… the nights get longer. We’re heading into the dark and we have to hang onto each other. So, we can only carry so much.”

As they commemorate who they’ve lost, Jamie mentions Dani and how she believes that Dani is the key to getting Miles and Flora back to themselves. A moment of pain rushes across Dani’s face as Jamie states how she believes that Dani is stronger than she thinks. To be in the midst of an internal conflict yet hear how someone believes in your strength can be something so painful to hear as you struggle to believe it yourself. We see Dani in a battle with herself as she fights to live authentically regardless of the guilt she’s carrying.

Eventually, the gardener and the au pair break away from Owen and Hannah to go to the greenhouse. A pivotal moment in the growth of Dani and Jamie’s relationship occurs here when Dani makes the decision to lay everything out on the table for Jamie and finally explain her history with Edmund as well as sometimes seeing his ghost.

“I’ve never told anybody that.”

These words that leave Dani’s mouth are so intimate and so vulnerable. Jamie takes what she’s being dealt and handles it with such a level of care that ensures that Dani knows that she’s being heard and respected. As we’ve seen Jamie talk Dani down from a breakdown in episode 2, we see a parallel here where Jamie takes it upon herself to make Dani laugh in an effort to console her. This moment is cut short as Dani musters the courage to ask the heartbreaking question that allows Jamie to make the decision whether to take or leave Dani and all of her baggage.

“Think I’m crazy?”

The pain in Dani’s face as she asks this shows just how scared she is to be rejected by the one person she wants the most. Without even a hint of hesitation, Jamie reassures her that nothing has changed in her view of Dani’s strength. A wave of relief comes over Dani as she’s hit her tipping point of acting upon the feelings she’s been suppressing all this time. She kisses Jamie and a moment of vulnerability is shown on Jamie’s face as she gets the confirmation that Dani is sure in her decision to do this. This moment is short lived by Edmund’s ghost appearing just behind Jamie, causing Dani to retreat in a panic. This is probably the worst cockblock in the history of cockblocks. Dani quickly retreats as Jamie mirrors her actions and immediately puts her walls back up as embarrassment sinks into them both in different directions. As the pair make it back to Hannah and Owen, Dani is visibly disappointed with how things ended up. Jamie’s comment of “it’s all good” as she guides Owen away from the bonfire shows how she would prefer to move on right away instead of confronting the confusing messages she’s just received from Dani.

The final scene of the episode is what I like to call Dani’s last straw. Dani’s guilt has turned to anger as she makes the decision to confront her own shadows by throwing Edmund’s glasses into the bonfire. Flashbacks of kissing Jamie intercut the scene to really solidify Dani’s desires to move on and be able to freely love her without the burden of her past.

“It’s just you and me then.”

Dani is tired. She’s waited for this moment. She’s finally accepted this part of her and she stares straight into Edmund’s ghost without any more fear. She’s found the strength to move on.

Episode Six

The sponsor of this episode is cement as Dani and Jamie cement their relationship in this hour. The episode begins with Dani’s attempt at reconciliation after the unfortunate cockblock of a certain dead ex-fiancé in episode four. Dani wakes up at the crack of dawn to visit Jamie in her greenhouse. Dani’s entire existence in this moment is ridden with nervousness as she puts on her best “everything is normal” face. Jamie is quick to notice how out of character waking up this early is for Dani to which Dani dismisses. We see that Jamie’s cold and guarded exterior is back and for good reason considering the unfortunate events at the end of her and Dani’s last interaction. Dani’s eagerness to patch things up puts her through several attempts at getting a reaction out of Jamie, each of which ends up being shut down. First is the gesture of giving Jamie coffee which results in her gently spitting it back into the cup. Next is Dani’s attempt at voicing how lonely she’s been.

“No Owen. No you.”

Dani’s voice drags on a little longer here to emphasize how Jamie’s absence the last few days have created a noticeable emptiness at the manor. Jamie responds with a simple “sometimes people wanna be alone” which seems like her own personal choice. However, Dani finally gets a reaction through Jamie’s icy exterior when she makes her laugh after a terrible attempt at a British accent. This mirrors the other instances prior where Jamie has made the effort to make Dani laugh in order to ease any emotional tension. After the ice has been broken, we see Dani’s first wind of confidence as she asks Jamie out to a boring ol’ date at a boring ol’ pub. We can see relief and a sense of pride strewn across Dani’s face when Jamie catches her drift. This marks the beginning of a fresh start for the two.

The next time we see the pair is in the kitchen as Jamie surprises Dani by coming back to the manor after initially leaving.

“Made it halfway home and I thought ‘rough day, maybe Poppins might fancy a little boredom.’”

Dani’s shocked excitement quickly turns into awkward nervousness as Hannah and Owen wave them away to spend time together. Jamie gently takes Dani’s hand and guides her out of the room. This presents the reaffirmation that Jamie still cares enough to try again with Dani.

The gardener leads the au pair somewhere off on the grounds of Bly to a secret area where moonflowers have bloomed. She explains how difficult they are to grow in England and how fragile their lifespan is.

“That’s a lot of work for a flower that only blooms once.”

“That’s what people feel like to me. Exhaustive effort, very little to show for it.”

“All of them?”

“All of them. Even you. Even me… especially me.”

Jamie’s emphasis on herself shows her insecurity of not being enough after anyone makes the effort to break down her walls and gets to know who she really is. What follows is a tear-jerking speech that gives insight on Jamie’s past and her painful upbringing. From the details of her childhood like growing up in a broken home, being forced into foster care, and serving time in jail, we begin to understand why she puts such a strong, guarded front. The absence of a family unit in her youth and young adulthood has resulted in her feeling like she may be unlovable. Like she might not be worth the effort of loving. Just as Dani did in episode four, this is Jamie laying everything out on the table for Dani to decide whether or not she will take or leave Jamie and all of her baggage. After Jamie finishes her monologue, Dani gets up and doesn’t say a word. She takes hold of Jamie and kisses her. No words can alleviate the pain that Jamie’s endured but the effort of loving her can be a start. Dani pulls away for a brief moment to reveal a relieved Jamie smiling back at her after she has realized that Dani has chosen to accept her for everything that she is.

The next scene they have together is the morning after Dani finally gets her first restful night’s sleep.

“The au pair could not remember that last time she’d slept this well. And she thought perhaps she never had.”

The moment to highlight in this short scene is Dani stopping to look at herself in the mirror. She is finally able to see her truest self without being haunted of guilt. She smiles as she looks at her reflection and to a sleeping Jamie in the bed next to her. She’s finally made peace with herself.

The final Dani and Jamie scene of the episode occurs at the end of the day just as Dani puts Flora to bed. Here we see the purity in the relationship that the two are creating. We see Dani unapologetically long for Jamie as she says she’s going to leave for the night. The au pair’s subtle look at the gardener’s lips as she speaks and the inching closer and closer to her shows just how high Dani’s confidence levels have risen to after being able to finally love freely. To see Dani in such a smitten state of mind is a breath of fresh air for not only herself but for us, the viewers, who have seen her in such a trapped state of mind when it comes to loving someone. The innocence of longing, in tandem of making the promise of spending other nights together, show how much care and caution they are taking in order to ensure that they’re building their relationship in a healthy manner. What they are both experiencing shows a trade off of what they each have to give to the other. Dani has accepted her sexuality, which is something that seems like Jamie has already done long ago. Meanwhile, Jamie is being loved and wanted, potentially for the first time which is something that Dani has already experienced in her past. Each half of the pairing offers support and guidance to the other as they begin their journey as a couple.

Episode Nine

This final episode of the season was an absolute doozy in terms of Dani and Jamie’s relationship. I’ve watched all of these scenes a solid million times over and I bawl my eyes out every. damn. time. But I mopped up my tear-soaked notebook and carried on for the purpose of this essay. The episode picks up action as Flora sacrifices herself to save Dani from being dragged and choked to death by Viola, the Lady of the Lake. As Jamie and Owen arrive back at the manor after both having awful dreams, they briefly see Hannah as she says that they’re needed at the lake. Jamie bolts the second she hears Dani yelling. She knows Dani’s in trouble and wastes absolutely zero time trying to find her. Jamie yells Dani’s name and you can feel that her sense of urgency has one goal in mind: save Dani.

“It’s you. It’s me. It’s Us.”

Viola has accepted the au pair’s offer. Besides Flora, Jamie is the only witness to see Dani’s last moment of belonging to only herself. From this point on, the darkness begins to fester deep within Dani’s soul and Jamie must live knowing that there was nothing that she could do as she watched Dani let part of herself go to let Viola in. Jamie runs into the lake as Dani’s trauma starts almost immediately. Her breathing is quickened, and she can’t stop repeating those final words that she felt deep in her bones. The gardener holds the au pair and takes one look at her as she already notices the effects of trauma. Dani’s darting eyes are panicked as she struggles to register that Jamie is there with her. Her breathing finally slows as Jamie holds her close in her attempts to calm her down. Jamie is Dani’s grounding force in this moment. Dani has finally freed the ghosts of Bly but at the cost of her own self. Her own life for the souls of the others.

The following scene highlights the days following the incident at the lake, immediately starting with Jamie and Owen looking into the well to find Hannah’s dead body. I wanted to highlight this moment just for the sake of Jamie for she has been there to witness all the deaths of her loved ones firsthand. She was the first adult to find Rebecca in the lake, one of the first to find Hannah in the well, and the first to see Dani die in more ways than one. She just can’t seem to catch a break but after all… death is beautiful, it’s natural.

Jamie finds Dani as she packs away her things however, Dani’s mind appears to be somewhere else. Darkness has begun to burrow itself into Dani’s soul. She’s shaking. She’s terrified. She’s mourning the loss of herself.

“I feel her. In here. It’s so quiet, it’s so quiet, but she’s in here. And this part of her that’s in here, it isn’t… peaceful.”

Dani explains how Viola’s presence feels like a beast waiting for her in a thick jungle. She feels hopeless again but this time feels heavier than all the rest. She has something to lose here now. She has a relationship with Jamie to lose, she has an entire life to lose. It isn’t as simple as feeling the guilt of losing someone or the guilt of loving someone. This feeling isn’t human, this feeling of dread goes beyond what the stages of grief entails. Where is she to go if she can’t go within herself to find peace?

“She’s gonna take me.”

A tear falls down Jamie’s face as these heavy words fall out of Dani’s mouth. This is the first hint of Jamie losing Dani. The fear of the inevitable fills the room with such a weight that no words can alleviate Dani’s pain. Yet Jamie tries. She tries her damn best. She offers her company with the seal of a pinky promise. She gives all that she can offer: herself and her love. Dani’s feeling of darkness doesn’t have to be lonely this time.

After a final goodbye to Henry, Miles, and Flora, the gardener and the au pair set off to start their lives together as the image of Bly fades away into the distance. Their life together starts at a diner as Jamie plans their course of action, hoping to end up in Vermont to see snow by Christmas. Here we see Dani looking at her own reflection in the tableside jukebox before stopping Jamie as she worries that they’re planning too far ahead. Dani’s cautious. She doesn’t want to get either of their hopes up.

“One day at a time is fine by me. As long as those days are with you, Poppins. One day at a time is what we’ve got.”

There’s a brightness in these words which in turn reflect onto them. There’s a light in this moment that shows that they haven’t lost their footing yet. And thus begins the final climb to their highest point before the tragedy that lies ahead occurs. We flashforward to a year later to The Leafling, the flower shop that the pair have opened up together. Dani is still Dani and Jamie is still Jamie but more in love this time than the last time and the time before that.

“You see, I’m not sick of you. At all. I’m actually pretty in love with you, it turns out.”

Here we see the reintroduction of the moonflower. The symbol of Jamie and Dani’s love. The last time we saw the moonflower was back when the pair finally made the choice to accept one another and start their relationship. This time, we see the moonflower one last time as Jamie chooses to solidify their love by finally breaking the big L word.

A montage ensues of the gardener and the au pair’s life together. Years have passed and peace was just finally in their grasp. Or so it seemed. This feeling of fluttering innocence is put to a halt as Dani sees Viola’s reflection in the door of the flower shop. Dani stops in her tracks as she stares at the reflection, her face is still as she stands in a quiet shock. That is until she sees Jamie through the door, smiling at her with such a playful gaze. This instance shows yet again that Jamie is Dani’s grounding force even after all this time and Dani’s own reflection returns not even a second later. This is a moment for the audience to take a peek into Jamie’s importance in Dani’s life, especially at a point that something so vengeful is making its way to the surface. To see Jamie’s smiling face cut through the image of the beast in the jungle, we can’t help but feel the same pain yet also the sense of relief that Dani must feel in this moment. Although Dani returns to herself, we can’t help but feel Viola’s presence looming.

The scene that follows is another significant milestone in Dani and Jamie’s journey together as Dani comes back home with a dying plant that’s concealing an engagement ring. Above the surface, Dani has put the ring in a dying plant because she knew that Jamie would waste no time investigating how to save it. But this can also be interpreted in relation to Jamie’s moonflower speech where she says “every living thing grows out of every dying thing” to show how their relationship is taking the next step of growth as she pulls the ring out of a dying plant. The ring itself is a traditional Irish Claddagh ring, which shows how Dani did her research and chose a ring specific to Jamie’s northern heritage. The hands that make the band of the ring represents friendship, while the heart representing love, and the crown representing loyalty. These representations are fitting for the relationship that the pairing has created and for Dani’s proposal speech.

“Here’s the thing - you’re my best friend and the love of my life. And I don’t know how much time we have left but however much it is, I wanna spend it with you.”

The thing to highlight about Dani and Jamie’s relationship is that it runs on Dani’s timeline which is something that is so important to showcase, especially considering how Edmund had made almost all the choices for her in her previous engagement. Jamie understands this and has always insured that Dani felt comfortable before progressing further into their relationship together. In this moment, Jamie finally has a promise of love while Dani has security in the person she loves the most. As Jamie accepts her proposal and the two share a moment of celebration, Dani’s face of worry as she hugs Jamie shows that she feels an inability to be fully happy. She’s unable to fully give herself to Jamie in this moment which in turn shows how Viola’s presence is getting closer and getting darker.

We jump slightly forward in time to the pair visiting Owen’s aptly named restaurant, A Batter Place. After a moment of remembrance for Hannah, Dani looks into the reflection of a metal water pitcher to see Viola’s reflection yet again. Dani’s face is surprised by this sight, but she keeps it quietly to herself as to not ruin the moment of reunion. If we compare this instance to the first time Dani looked at her reflection at the tableside jukebox at the diner years prior, we can see that this moment is filled with much more darkness. The light that used to be inside of her is dimming. Although Jamie is holding her and is physically next to her in this moment, she doesn’t cut through the darkness anymore. Jamie’s power as a grounding force is dimming as well.

“So, they’re all happy?”

The inflection in Dani’s voice here is so subtle that only Jamie takes notice of it. Jamie looks at Dani and senses that something has gone off in her. Owen continues to explain how Miles and Flora have no recollection of the events that took place at Bly. No recollection of the sacrifice that Dani made to save them.

“So, if they don’t remember Hannah…they don’t remember…”

Dani’s voice trails off here. She looks down and is caught in the bitter realization that her sacrifice has been forgotten. This feeling of a looming darkness, this feeling of living a life that’s ticking down to her own demise… was it worth it? Jamie can feel Dani’s pain immediately as her eyes stayed glued on Dani who’s trying to see if there would be any way to remind Miles and Flora about what she did. The gardener stares at au pair without breaking away and in this instant, we can see that, along with Dani, Jamie is breaking too. Breaking under the burden of knowing that she can’t take Dani’s pain away.

The scene that follows shows Dani washing dishes where she sees Viola again in the water. She panics and finally admits to Jamie that she’s been seeing her more and more. The tension that was present between them moments earlier immediately fades away as Jamie wastes no time in trying to console Dani. Jamie’s blind optimism here has a slight tinge of desperation as she refuses to let Dani slip away into the abyss that’s growing stronger and stronger. Dani’s interaction with Viola’s reflection in this moment sets off an alarm bell within her, unlike the other times where she sat quietly and dealt with it on her own. This is Dani’s tipping point. The highest level of fear is felt as the reality is beginning to sink in that the beast is coming for her. Another thing to note here is that even after all these years, Jamie still makes the conscious effort to make Dani laugh.

“I’ll do the washing up from now on, yeah? You’re shit at it anyway.”

Dani can’t help but give the smallest laugh, but it’s more than enough for Jamie. Through Jamie’s optimism, we have begun to see that she’s not only consoling Dani but also herself as she tries to convince both of them that they can have so much more time together. The episode continues on with the train of heartbreak as Jamie comes home after receiving civil union paperwork for her and Dani. What comes next is what I feel like is the most heartbreaking Dani moment in the entire series. Dani stares deep into an overflowing bathtub where an ominous Viola stares back at her. Jamie is quick to bring Dani back to reality but Dani has lost her footing. Her hold on Viola has flipped to Viola having a hold on her.

“It’s like every day I feel myself fading away, but I’m still here, and… I don’t really understand how that is.”

The fear has withered away into emptiness as Dani struggles to stay afloat. We see Jamie so pained as she watches the light fade into a grey nothingness as she listens to Dani talk about how she is beginning to lose herself to the beast.

“I’m not even scared of her anymore. I just stare at her, and it��s getting harder and harder to see me.”

To listen to the love of her life slip away through her fingers has Jamie in a phase of denial as she continuously refuses to let Dani break apart. We see the gardener’s optimism wavering as she tries her best to help the au pair hold onto herself. Dani’s voice as she says Jamie’s name is filled with nothing but pure hopelessness and despair as she dips further and further into uncertainty. Yet Jamie doesn’t lose hope. Jamie would never give up on Dani as she repeats the words she told Dani in the diner all those years ago.

“One day at a time.”

However, Jamie has run out of answers. She can only offer comfort now.

Next we see Dani hit her lowest low as she is taken over by Viola and awakes to see that she almost strangled Jamie to death in their sleep. Dani is shocked and broken as she sits in the disbelief of what she almost did. The time has come. The beast has arrived. Viola has waited years until Dani was so broken down and so vulnerable, that she would finally be able to take her. However, we can’t help but believe that Dani fought off Viola this long thanks to the love her and Jamie shared.

The gardener wakes up the following morning to find an empty space next to her. She reaches to the empty space in the bed and then for the note left on the bedside table. It can only mean one thing: her biggest fear has come to light. With her strong will and determination, Jamie gives one final push and flies back across the pond to Bly to face what she’s been in fear of all this time. The amount of immense grief that is felt in this moment, to be at the same place that the love of her life began to be taken away from her all those years ago, must be incredibly damaging. The manor holds so much of Jamie’s life. She found her family there. She created a beautiful garden on those grounds. Her and Dani’s love blossomed on the same grounds that she first began to lose her that night at the lake. Jamie storms off to the edge of the water. Her face is so tired. She already knows what she’s going to find and yet she still doesn’t lose the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be true.

“The gardener said the words she’d heard those years ago; she willed it with everything she had. You, me, us. Us. ‘Take me with you,’ she cried in her heart. ‘Take me. Drag me down like you did the others.’ But the lady in the lake was different now – the lady in the lake was also Dani. And Dani wouldn’t. Dani would never.”

The agony and desperation that we see Jamie endure in the moments that we see her find Dani laying at the very bottom of the lake is a type of pain that is unmatched from any other moment of pain that we’ve seen this season. Her muffled screams as she takes a hold of her heart, only to let her arms go in despair under the water is something so haunting yet so unbelievably moving to see her love so much considering how far she’s come from the cold and guarded gardener we saw all the way back in episode one. She would’ve given up everything. Absolutely everything to take Dani’s place. Given up everything to join Dani at the bottom of the lake. Unlike Peter with Rebecca, Dani could never take Jamie down to the depths. Dani could never harm a single soul, let alone the one person that mattered the most to her. By letting Jamie go and taking Viola’s place as the lady of the lake, Dani has broken the cycle of violence that’s haunted the grounds of Bly for centuries. As Jamie was the hero of Dani’s story, Dani will always be the hero to Jamie’s.

The final act of the season ends with an older Jamie finishing her story to the wedding guests.

“She would know nothing of the gardener, nothing of their life together. The details, the specific moments would all fade away. More time will pass, and the water will wash away the delicate features of her; of her beautiful, perfect face. But she won’t be hollow, nor empty. And she won’t pull others to her fate. She will merely walk the grounds of Bly, harmless as a dove, for all of her days. Leaving the only trace of who she once was in the memory of the woman who loved her most.”

We see an older Jamie comfort a teary-eyed Flora who is afraid of the time when she would also lose the love of her life. Jamie comforts her with advice that we can only ever assume she learned in her time with Dani. The final scene shows the gardener’s nightly routine as she stares into reflections, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the au pair. As she drifts away into sleep, a hand wearing a golden wedding ring rests gently on her shoulder. Our haunting love story has come to an end. And the rest? Well the rest… is confetti.

#dani x jamie #dani clayton #jamie taylor #thobm #the haunting of bly manor #damie #amelia eve #victoria pedretti #bly manor

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capri-ramblings · 4 years

Note

Hiya ^^! How the dorm leaders gonna react if their S/p suddenly hug them from behide and not let them see their darling face because they just shy?

Some of the S/O's reaction isn't shy but hope this is well enough! ♥️ Requests are open but will be updated slowly, any inconveniences is greatly regretted.

Veiled Embrace

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is greatly taken aback. His small figure turning stiff the moment his s/o arms wrapped around him.

"What on earth are you doing?" Slips out of his mouth with a gasp, and he's already trying to shake them off which proved to be surprisingly hard since they resisted the rejection.

"___,face me! What do you think you're trying to pull?"

It's not that he dislikes it but growing up with such strict procedures, public displays of affection was something even his mother rarely did. She always told him that it was improper to be so straightforward with ones feelings,it made you seem weak and dependant.

Riddle attempted to pry their hands off of him but then he noticed how they were hiding away their face,burying it into his uniform. They were trembling too. Worry soon etched into his expression and rather awkwardly, he stood there with their arms still embracing him from behind.

"I don't know what's gotten into you so suddenly" He said, "But this position is uncomfortable and it's hard for me to look at you"

"Maybe I don't want you to look at me" Came the reply,all muffled.

Riddle sighed, and yet his heart fluttered joyously at the sight of them clinging to him. He wasn't the type of boy with a strong built like Leona and Jack, so it was amusing to see them act like it was and throwing themselves at him so carelessly.

Was it because they genuinely depended on him despite his flawed physique?

"You're going to cause a scene if people walk by and see us like this,you know?"

"Just a little longer?"

Another sigh, another fluttering sensation.

"Only a bit."

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was facing his vanity mirror, hands gracefully applying the new face mask he'd bought yesterday. His fingers pressed the mask lightly onto his skin, smoothing out the edges before admiring how despite it being entirely covered, he was still extremely elegant.

His purple gaze glistened pleasantly when his s/o's reflection greeted him from behind.

"Daffodil,how do I look?" A gentle laugh echoed in his words but instead of receiving an answer, his s/o furrowed their brows and bit their lower lip before wrapping their arms around him in an embrace. Taking him by surprise.

"Not the sort of answer I was looking for but—" His laugh came out this time, and Vil had to remember to compose himself before speaking again. "I'm pleased you like my new look,though I would've been more appreciative if this came after I took the mask off"

Their face nuzzled into the silk robe he wore, Vil felt a rush of heat course through him as they shifted in the embrace. He was often particular with physical interaction but when it came to them,he always had a slight softness to spare.

The only thing he found odd was how they kept him from seeing their face.

"You're awfully shy today,my sweet"

Grumbling came as a response and Vil smiled, slightly coyly as he leaned into their touch.

"If you keep grumbling like that I might have to teach you words, mein lieb."

Azul Ashengrotto

He honestly didn't know how to react. His self-made facade was slipping and the fact that Jade and Floyd were grinning at him for his dumbfounded response wasn't helping.

While preparing for Mostro Lounge to open for business, his s/o came barging through the door and without even saying anything grabbed him from behind,by his waist and muffled their scream by pressing their face to his back. It all happened so quickly, his reaction was only natural wasn't it?

"What's wrong with you?" Azul managed after letting out a gruff cough, an attempt to re-compose himself. He looked over his shoulder only to see that they were covering their face, but from the way their shoulders shook he knew they were upset.

He sent a narrow eyed glare towards the silently snickering twins, a warning for them to dismiss themselves, before he addressed the matter as calmly as possible.

"You're going to ruin my suit,___."

"I don't care." They murmured, earning another heavy sigh from the Mer-male. He wasn't used to intimately physical interaction, especially not from a human, but it was something he had learned to adapt to since it was considered a normalcy to their kind. Though,it always seemed to tip him off.

"What's this even about? You don't usually assault me with your need for intimacy like this"

"Grim keeps eating the leftovers I keep and I was this close to skinning him alive" They proceeded to show their frustration by bringing up two fingers touching each other, though their face was still kept hidden.

"But I didn't want to so I ran over here"

"To assault me"

"To a safe zone!"

Azul's brows furrowed, confusion clear as day on his face. Truly,land folk were very odd.

But he endured it. For them.

"I'll get Jade to prepare a meal for you,will that make you feel better?" Azul sighed,one brow cocked upwards as a small smile curled on his lips. His s/o nodded their head.

"Can I hold you for a bit longer?" They asked, quietly.

"I run a business here, seashell...But just until Jade's done with your food, understood?"

"Yes,sir!

Leona Kingscholar

He was deep asleep when his instincts kicked in and his eyes flew open only to find that the one disturbing his slumber was none other than his fussy s/o. They had their head buried into his chest as their arms wrapped around his waist despite the awkward size difference.

They didn't seem to be sleeping from the rise and fall of their chest,but their eyes were shut closed.

Leona let a sigh, a deep rumble that shook their body.

"You're taking up a lot of space here, herbivore" He drawled,the gruffness of his voice a mixture of exhaustion and irritation, and yet he made no attempt to pry them off of him.

When they didn't answer him though,Leona shifted so that he was on his side and had one free hand to tug at their hair until a small yelp escaped them.

"Stop that,Leona! It hurts!"

"Ha? Serves you right for ruining my sleep"

"You're always sleeping when you don't have anything else to do..." They grumbled aloud and the young prince didn't even need to see their face to know that they were frowning when the words left them. But seemingly unfazed, he tugged their hair again, a ghost of a smirk flirting about his lips as he felt his s/o squirm.

"So, what? It's not like there's anything interesting to do anyway"

His smirk grew wider before he leaned into their curled up body against him and felt them turn stiff from the contact.

"Unless you have something in mind?"

"Leona!"

Their head jerked up and roughly collided with his chin. The loud thud of the impact earning painful groans from both parties.

Eyes half opened,they rubbed the top of their head as Leona hung his low,one hand grabbing onto his throbbing chin. Both persons stayed like that for a while, engrossed in their own physical pain, before Leona lift his head and elicited a low growl.

"If what you were looking for at first included sweating,I hope you prepared yourself to run for your own life, mousey, cause when I catch you, I'm going to return that impact twice as hard."

Idia Shroud

He felt light headed and if it wasn't for his sturdy built, he would've toppled down the moment they held onto him from behind. Latching their body close to his as if in an attempt to squeeze him of any energy he had left.

When a laugh erupted from them,the awkward dorm head had to crane his head back to look down at them.

"You're so stiff, Idia! It's ridiculously amusing." They chirped happily, the rumble of their laughter reverberating through his body. He was never this close to anyone for him to receive such an intimate touch, and though he did rather quietly enjoyed it,he was still very much adapting to it's consistency.

"What makes hugging so complex to you, anyways?" They asked him, the slight hint of teasing rang in their voice blatantly and had Idia struggling for words.

Goodness,if Ortho was here, he'd have died from embarrassment.

"...And you think I should know?" Idia murmured this underneath his breath,his heart beating rapidly echoed through his own skull and his cheeks dusted a faint pink.

"Did you say something?" Looking up, his s/o's gaze seemed to make the entire situation harder to cope, what with glistening eyes filled with softness,and Idia was left with wondering how he got into this relationship in the first place.

"You...Why are you here?" He asked before reassessing the question.

Their eyes widened, surprised by the question but then warmth coloured the hues of their orbs and small smile graced their lips.

"Cause I like you, silly."

Well, that was a surprise.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim would be pleasantly taken aback. One of the most physically affectionate dorm leader out of the seven, he himself surprises his s/o with embraces and kisses as well.

It was no different today when they came rushing from behind him and squeezed their arms tight around his body. He let out a shocked gasp but then upon realising it was simply his Jewel of the Earth, a smile flashed on his face and his arms were quick to return the embrace.

"Hahaha! You're lively today! Did something good happened?" He cheered, voice warm and loving as always. They kept their face hidden from him, but somehow he could just feel the smile on their lips as they nuzzled against him, and his heart fluttered.

They were always his source of energy. There was no way he would ever think otherwise.

"Today, let's fly on my magic carpet! Jamil said they were going to have a new bazaar open near by, I'm sure there'll be lots of food there for us to eat together!"

A soft laugh escaped their lips then as they nodded to the idea, and Kalim let out another enthusiastic cheer.

Malleus Draconia

Physical affection was one of the things this Fae had to adapt to and it was surprisingly easier than he thought it would be.

He found them extremely pleasant and soothed his nerves more than his midnight walking. If he were to be honest, he simply hadn't gotten the idea at first, humans could rarely even talk to him while remaining eye contact, so naturally he would think the same when it came to things such as hugging.

Though, he was proven wrong when his beloved would oh so casually wrap their arms around his body or lean their head against his shoulder at any given time. He thought it odd, of course he did, and even went as far as to inspect if being with him hadn't somehow caused them to be stuck in some sort of curse, but then when they would laugh it off and smile at him as genuine as he'd seen any human do, he accepted the fact they truly liked his presence beside them pretty well.

Suprises such as coming up behind him and pulling him into an embrace became a familiar sort of sport to Malleus and often time when they did it, the Fae couldn't help but chuckle in amusement. He doesn't mind them at all and sees it as a way to indicate his beloved's emotions, whether they were happy or restless, sad or angry, he could tell simply from how their embrace affected him.

Right now, they were flustered, their arms squeezing him tight as their face buried into his back. The mere heat running through their veins somehow ran through him as well, and the slightly rapid beating of their heart reverberated through his bones.

"You're flushing" He said simply, "Did something happen?"

"I passed Mr. Crewel's test"

Malleus arched his brows,curiously. "Congratulations. He must be glad as well"

He felt them press themselves even further into him, almost to the point Malleus thought they were trying to join their body with his.

"Oh yeah,really glad. So glad he had me stand in front of class while he patted my head and said, "Good, pup! Those extra classes of ours worked well to train you into a smart puppy after all."

'Ah' Malleus thought, finally understanding the situation.

"You should've seen everyone look at me! Even Deuce looked like he was going to burst out laughing!"

They lifted their head then,eyes teary yet flaring with emotions. Their lips quivered and Malleus couldn't help but smile, his hand coming up to pat them on the head.

It took them by surprise of course.

"You did well, and he congratulated you albeit teasingly, I'm sure he meant well. Don't let it sully your achievement"

His s/o pursed their lips, head resting against his chest.

"Fine."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst riddle #twst vil #twst leona #twst azul #twst Malleus #twst idia #twst kalim #twst imagines #twst wonderland fluff

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ellabrownbooks · 3 years

Text

A fluffy gwynriel story

Azriel settled into his velvet armchair, secluded in the corner of the room. He preferred staying out of sight. Pulling back the curtains in the same dark plum hue as the chair, he looked out across the river Sidra. Moving blobs speckled his view, drifting in and out. He let the curtain go, allowing the fabric to caress his scarred fingers for a few moments more. He was reminded of a certain redhead’s actions earlier in the day. Although admittedly, he had been the one instigating the caressing. “Well done, Gwyn. You might be able to beat Cassian soon,” he had joked. “Not you?”, she cheekily replied. “Not a chance”, he retorted with a smug grin on his face. As she tenderly rolled her eyes, one wisp of shadow spiralled close to his right ear. He had made his face into a practiced expression of serene calmness, but inside his mind had stilled like the frozen Sidra many decades ago. Roasted chestnuts, his brothers, seeing his breath all floated up to him like memories. It was funny to think she hadn’t even been born into this world yet. Just waiting in the corridors. In a tone many shades more serious than before, he replied: “The day you beat me, truly beat me, will be the proudest moment of my life.” He worried he had overstepped, but on reflection, she seemed alright, maybe he would even let himself think pleased. He had always been a shy, awkward child, not knowing what to say and when. His friends, the shadows, had helped to smooth over any awkward moments but with Gwyn, it took real coaxing to get them to speak. He wondered if their allegiance was shifting or…already had. His thoughts returned back to the crime thriller in his hands. The torturer scene was laughable but the overall plot pleased him and at least it was a break from his usual dry researching. He slowly felt his eyes drooping and decided that it was probably best to stop there. His late-night training sessions with Gwyn were taking a toll on his energy. He wanted to be able to train at more friendly hours but recently that hadn’t been possible and Gwyn seemed as if she wanted to be there no matter the time. Something about not being able to sleep. He should really look into that.

A fair set of hands attempted to pick up the book from between his hands and smothered a giggle at his odd mid-sleep expression, hunched over the book like someone even more studious than Merrill. Her mission to stay silent failed in the most tremendous of fashions when she knocked over the wine glass on the oak side table onto the floor in a less than elegant manner. A hint of a smile appeared on a now awake Azriel. “So gentle, my dear.”, he teased. Upon hearing the first part, she had all manners of retorts planned, primed to fire, but the endearment quietened her completely. He had been calling her sweet things more and more often recently and each time she foolishly allowed herself to hope, to dream. He outstretched each hand to the side in an inviting way and without thinking twice, she clambered onto him. Whether he was surprised or pleased, she didn’t know. He always was impossible to read, but she vowed that she would spend her life trying to find out more about him, her enigma. She curled herself into a ball and whispered for him to go back to sleep. He slowly circled his fingers on the curve of her back and the rhythmic up-and-down of his chest sent her off into a dreamless nap.

An Illyrian warrior bounded into the room, not caring one bit about sound until he spotted the two cocooning creatures huddled in the corner. He let out a low breath and stared in silence for a while before going upstairs to warm his mate’s bed. The shock was quickly replaced with undiluted joy as Cassian had always wanted his often-lonesome brother to find a mate. Since the first couple of one-on-one training sessions between him and Gwyn, he had thought they had something, but this confirmed it. To some, using another as a bed might not be much but to these two tortured souls, it meant everything. He hoped with all the goodness of his heart that these two would be together until darkness died.

Darkness had fully embraced the sun when Azriel first started to stir, but the moon and the stars had attended the party as well. By his estimations there were still several hours until sunrise. The starlight outlined his beautiful sleeping partner, curled up in his arms. Cassian had tried for over three hundred years to spoil Azriel’s perfected mask but in the six hundred years of his long life no one had ever come as close as Gwyneth Berdara. He suspected she would be the first in many things to come. He waited several minutes in the dark, contemplating how this beautiful creature had bounded her way into his life. What had he done to deserve such an amazing woman? He knew the answer: nothing. Perhaps the Mother was playing a trick on him, taunt him with the possibility of her before revealing her to be promised to someone else. At times like this, doubt buried itself deep into Azriel’s mind and latched on with claws outstretched. The calm being in his arms began to jostle in his arms, vigorously shaking her head from left to right. She began muttering over and over something unintelligible. A dread anchored itself in the pits of Azriel’s stomach. He frantically rallied his shadows to attempt to pull her out and sending the urgency of the situation they obeyed instantaneously. A small yawn escaped her lips and a slightly dazed Gwyn looked up at him. “I’m here.”, he said. “I know.”, she replied with a soft smile. “Thank you.” “You don’t have to thank me.” said Azriel in as few words as possible, but after a moment, remembered his manners and offered Gwyn some hot milk. “That would be lovely, thank you. I can help too.” Knowing better to protest, Azriel gently lifted her out of his arms and onto the floor but not before kissing her fiery red hair with the softest of touches. The light pitter of their feet (more so hers than his) continued into the kitchen where Azriel began heating some milk. Never one to keep silence, Gwyn asked, “Why did you offer hot milk?”. Azriel knew this had been coming, had anticipated her curiosity behind his offer. “My mother.”, replied Azriel. Gwyneth’s eyes reflected the light a little more as she gently squeezed Azriel’s fingertips. She thanked him and threaded her fingers through his as they made their way out of the room. Although Azriel deeply wished to show her his room, he happily returned with her to where they had once been.

Thanks so much for reading <3!!!!!

#gwynriel #azriel #acosf #acotar #gwyn #fanfiction fluffy fluffygwynriel

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noragami-ru-manga · 4 years

Text

Memory & memories in Noragami. Part 1

What are the works of fiction that get stuck in our minds and souls, making us spend hours thinking over a single line a character said that one time, look up information on a foreign culture, write long-ass meta posts in thematic communities? That’s right, the ones that have something to tell us.

Noragami has a lot of themes that can interest readers of all sorts: child abuse and its consequences, free will and the ability to choose your own path, ideas on what true human nature is. However, in my opinion, the central theme of the entire series has been the that of memory and memories, the one that found its way into every main character’s storyline. Yato wants to stay in the memories of the living because the alternatives are to disappear or to be an eternal slave to his father. Hiyori doesn’t want to lose her memories of the Far shore, which effectively prevents her from living a normal human life. For Yukine and other shinki the memories of their human lives are a direct threat to their very existence, and right now the boy is too far gone to turn back. The importance of this theme to the series’ narrative and my personal interest resulted in this analysis of different aspects of Noragami that relate to memory and memories. It’s a huge theme, so instead of writing down a biiig longpost I’ll divide it into several smaller ones. This is Part 1. Memories and gods’ reincarnation.

The relation between reincarnation and memories can be examined in two different yet intertwined directions: the mechanics of rebirth, which has to do with the believers’ memories, and its aftermath, i.e. the loss of god’s own memories.

We all know how gods are able to reincarnate: they simply need people to remember them. Their names play a huge part in it, since those are what give humans something their memory can latch on. After all, believers don’t usually become friends with gods and shinki, like Hiyori does; they pray to gods knowing only their names and what they do. Of course, gods also have images of them, but those mostly reflect people’s ideas of what a god should look like based on their functions, and they have nothing in common with the gods’ real appearance (in Noragami). A name in its usual meaning isn’t a necessary requirement either: Kofuku goes by binbougami, or god of poverty, outside of her immediate circle of friends, with her “profession” substituting a given name.

A god who has a name (a personal one or, like Kofuku, something that stands in for it) can be reborn as long as there are living humans who remember them, because it means that the god is needed, that their existence has a meaning to it. I think that this dependency on humans’ memories is the reason why gods don’t retain their own memories after rebirth.

“Person” here doesn’t refer to a god’s individual personality traits, but to their so-to-speak material form – the idea that there’s someone out there who can help you solve your problems materializes in an entity shaped like a human. Therefore a reborn god shouldn’t have any memories, because the reincarnation isn’t their choice, but a response to people’s needs. Except humans don’t and can’t possibly know anything about a god’s personal history, so they can do nothing to help him or her retain their memories. Besides, it’s not like a god needs to have a personality, goals and ambitions; all they need to do is fulfill their role, do their job. And yet, while they don’t have any memories, newly reborn gods still have some sort of an instinct that lies in the core of their character.

Now, even though I’ve just said that gods shouldn’t have any memories after reincarnation, is that really the case?

Two scenes from the manga gave me an idea that, perhaps, gods can remember at least their names – the ones that they are commonly known by among humans and contributed to their reincarnation the most.

Neither Bishamon nor Ebisu seem to remember their guideposts’ names after being reborn, but provide their own names instead. Keep in mind though, that neither scene is corroborative evidence that this is canon. Bishamon’s replacement was only Kazuma’s premonition that (as of now) hasn’t come true. Kazuma has been and will keep doing anything to preserve the current Bishamon; he will kill and betray as many times as needed. It’s only natural that Veena’s rebirth and the loss of her memories would be his worst nightmare. As for Ebisu’s case, everything’s not that simple either. After his execution in chapter 35 he reappeared at his Miho shrine – compare the image of Ebisu above with the IRL picture of the shrine’s torii:

Miho Jinja is one of the largest Ebisu shrines. It may be that, in Noragami universe, it’s his main shrine where he usually reincarnates. When he was hiring a new bunch of noras in chapter 73, he did that at his Miho shrine, too.

And even if Ebisu reincarnates at a different shrine each time, Iwami is unlikely to be there, too, since he’s probably in Takamagahara. It means that Ebisu could have learnt his name from his other shinki that stay at the shrine before meeting his guidepost. Still, the fact that the authors bothered to include these scenes in the manga could mean that, theoretically, gods can remember their names after reincarnation. It’s not that far-fetched considering the god’s dependency on humans’ memories. People may not be able to preserve the god’s own memories, but at least they can give them their names back.

Another interesting thing about reincarnated gods was shown (though not really expanded upon) in chapter 86. In that chapter we’ve learnt that various incarnations of Ebisu have a habit of burying a box with his complaints and fears in the exact same spot, and every new Ebisu finds it sooner or later.

The late Ebisu says that all of his incarnations have been discovering this box whenever they wanted to hide or bury something and would subconsciously choose this place. This time wasn’t an exception: mini-Ebi found the box when he needed to bury his seahorse Takemika. The late Ebisu used this peculiarity of his to his advantage, burying a USB-card with information on the sorcerer alongside all the other stuff in the box before going off to Yomi. He gambled on the next Ebisu needing to hide something and finding the box, and didn’t lose (he is a god of fortune, you know).

By the way, the place where Ebisu keeps hiding the box is, again, his Miho shrine, where he reappeared after being slain and where he was hiring noras when Kunimi came into his service.

Why does every Ebisu keep coming to this spot to hide things? When Takemika died, Ebi didn’t seem to have some sort of realization that he needed to come to this particular place. He probably didn’t want to dig a grave in Takamagahara, so he used one of his biggest shrine (or maybe his main shrine) to come down to Nakatsukuni and bury his pet there. Yet somehow he ended up choosing to do that under the same tree that all those other Ebisus have been spotting, too.

Does it mean there are still things left to discover about gods’ reincarnation? Is Ebisu unconsciously drawn to the shrine that seems to be his starting point after each rebirth? As of now, we don’t know.

P.s. I keep thinking about a sentence I wrote earlier, that gods lose their memories because their believers don’t know them personally. Hiyori knows Yato, they have lots of memories together. Can this mean that if Yato dies and then reincarnates thanks to Hiyori and not Father, he will be able to retain at least the memories that are tied to her?

#noragami #noragami manga #ebisu #bishamon #theories #I thought I would be writing about the importance of memories but ended up doing an anlysis of the lore #maybe next time #noragami meta

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the-marvel-imagines-blog · 5 years

Text

Madness | Chpt.30

Chapter Title: “The Storm”

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character (Eva)

Word Count: 7,519

Warnings: Fluff and angst (what else is new?)

Name Pronunciations: Hjalmar: “He-all-mar” | Aaldir: “All-deer” | Ephinea: “Eh-fin-ee-uh”

Summary: Eva reconciles with Thor, and Aurora seeks comfort in the storm.

A/N: I’m sorry once more for the delay. I’ve been working out the coming chapters as the story comes to a close, and I’m pulling things that don’t seem as important and adding things that need to be added. It’s taken quite a while to edit this chapter, but I hope you enjoy it. Thank you all a thousand times over for reading this; it truly means the world to me.

Tagged: @teddyboobear @alledeglyfunny @xletmetaste-yoursmilex @itsknife2meetu @mynameisyara @j-j-ehlby-writes @jillilama-blog (anyone who wants to be tagged can message me and ask. It’s not a problem at all)

The movie came to a close quicker than I anticipated. Aurora had been so invested in watching that one movie that not even Tony could deny her, no matter how badly I saw he wanted to. The movie was nothing spectacular, and if I was given the opportunity to watch it again, I wouldn’t; however, Aurora seemed to be fond of it, so the movie held a special place in my heart. As I sat between Steve and Tony, I stole glances at her in the darkened room, her face illuminated by the light from the television, and I watched as she mouthed each line of dialogue as if it were her own. She was entranced by the movie, loving every moment of it. Tony offered once to swap places with me so that he wasn’t between the two of us, but I couldn’t take that risk. I couldn’t be so close to her when all I had worked for was teetering on the edge. If I gave in and embraced the life I so desperately desired, it could crumble in my grasp. I had to be patient.

Once it was over, I retired to my room with only a few words to everyone. I didn’t want to make it obvious that I was preparing to leave the following morning before they awoke. There was no sense in causing a scene, so I said my goodbyes as informally as possible. I hugged each of them and wished them goodnight, not knowing whether that would be the final time we spoke or saw each other. Either way, I wanted them to remember me as I was, not how I left them. Steve held me for longer than the others, knowing what this was. I knew that he fought himself not to follow me back to my room to stay the night by my side, but in the end, he released me and retired to his room with a grief-stricken heart that left mine a little heavier. The only one who had the nerve to follow me to my room was the very man I had no desire to speak to, the man who stabbed me with the knife I gave him.

Upon entering my room, I left the door open for Thor to enter behind me. The click of the latch caused me to wince, unsure of whether or not I would be having another argument with a man I knew as one of my very best friends. I took my normal spot standing before the glass wall with my arms crossed over my chest. The lamp on the bedside table offered the only light in the room, and I watched my reflection in the window as the rain pelted the glass, “you’re still upset with me, and I can understand why,” I noted, interrupting the deafening silence that surrounded us, “you’re upset with me, but she can’t sleep during a thunderstorm. I’m not asking for myself-I’ve slept through many a storm-but...for her sake, can you please stop this?” I asked, continuing to gaze out at the blackened sky.

“I’m not doing this,” he replied, his voice barely cutting through the quiet air surrounding us.

I scoffed, “says the God of Thunder!”

“Yes! I’m saying that I haven’t been doing this and that I’ve tried to stop it, but it keeps coming back,” he insisted, taking his place beside me. Instead of staring out the window at the rain, though, I felt his gaze on my cheek, but I couldn’t bring myself to look into his eyes. After what happened during our previous interaction, I felt small in his presence. I did the best I could with what I was given when it came to my daughter, but I couldn’t help but feel guilty for all the ways I had hurt Thor with my decision to send Aurora away. He was there for me when Loki wasn’t. He was there for me when Loki decided to leave me in the garden, forcing me to raise our daughter alone. Thor was by my side through it all, even when Loki failed to be. While I understood why Loki did what he did and how he was all but forced down the path he went down, Thor stayed by my side. I had no right to call him my friend after what I had done to him. He shared a connection to Aurora; she was his family, and I tore her away from him. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, but he continued to study me, “I’m saying that I have no control over this because there is another-one more powerful than I-whose link to this world is so deep, so profound, that the bat of her lashes sends hurricanes across the ocean, the drop of a tear causes a thunderstorm, and her laughter blows away the clouds to reveal the sun. I’m telling you that this isn’t me.”

My jaw clenched involuntarily as I processed his words. He couldn’t be serious. I shook my head, not willing to believe in such claims, “you can’t possibly be insinuating that this has anything to do with me.”

“This has everything to do with you,” he argued as the heat of his gaze felt like it would burn a hole right through me, “when we thought you were dead, the universe wept for you. The skies opened up with a rain that-if you hadn’t come back-wouldn’t have stopped until it washed away every trace of humanity. When you awoke, the clouds in the sky cleared, and the sun began shining like it was meant to shine for you and only you. When you saw her for the first time in so long, the sun shone brighter than before, but it was quickly swallowed up by the rain once more. Lately, the sky has been covered in clouds, but when you spent the day with her and Natasha, the sun came back out. Tonight, you are struggling with a grief that I cannot understand, and this is the evidence of it,” he argued his point, gesturing out the window at the rain.

I watched the raindrops hit the window and cascade down the glass, doing what Tony often did as a child. He would choose two raindrops that were close to one another, and he would bet on which one would reach the bottom first. We would often play the game together as Howard and Maria argued in the other room, but I made sure that Tony’s laughter and the sound of my voice drowned out the muffled hollering. It wasn’t a game of calculations or numbers, but it was a game of luck. We just had to hope we chose the right one. I shook my head again, trying to drown out my own fear with the sound of the rain on the window, “this isn’t me. This can’t be me,” I insisted, my voice quivering as I thought that I could hold any power at all. The universe would’ve been better off if I had stayed dead because the power I couldn’t shake would’ve been a threat no longer. I couldn’t control it, and I didn’t have anyone to teach me how to handle it. There was only one who promised to teach me, one who was burdened with the same power, but...I couldn’t trust him. My heart told me to run to him, told me that he could be saved, but I didn’t know if I was willing to sacrifice my everything for his anything. I didn’t know if I could trust that Ezra wouldn’t try to turn me against myself.

Thor’s voice ripped me from my own fearful thoughts, “you know who you are as well as I know who you are,” he remarked, his words sending a shiver down my spine. I didn’t want to talk about my parentage or the fact that I was an abomination. I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire in my heart that told me I wasn’t good enough for any of the good things in my life, for the man I loved, for the children I gave life to, for the friends I would give my life for, or for the blade of grass tied around my finger. There were so many voices that told me I was worthy of the love I received, but there was that one-the voice that hid in the darkest recesses of my mind-that told me I was worth nothing because of where I came from, and that voice was the loudest one. Instead of berating me, though, Thor continued with pride emanating from his chest and a smile on his lips, “there should be no question in your mind that you’re capable of this-that you’re far more powerful than I could ever even hope to be.”

“Don’t say that!” I hissed under my breath. The anger shot through me like a fire in my veins.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “why not?”

“Because what if I’m the one who needs to be stopped?!” I snapped, turning to face him as the rage manifested itself once more in a physical form. My eyes shone red in his, causing my heart to drop. I wished that it would stop. I wished that I could convince myself that I had no special gifts at all because what if my special gifts were terrifying ones? I brought my hands up to show him the proof of what I was becoming. Not even the persistent tears in my eyes could drown away the vivid, blood red hue in my eyes or the burning in my hands as my veins appeared to have the same blood red fire coursing through them. Just like he had before, Thor winced away from me when he saw this part of me. I had been able to control my anger all my life, but with every sudden change that had been happening, I lost control. I blinked away the tears or frustration, “what if the darkness swallows me whole, and I can’t do anything about it? What if your father was right all those years ago when he wanted me to be locked away in the dungeons if I were to stay? What if he was right to be afraid of me? What if I’m the villain in this story?”

“Then you’ll rewrite it!” his voice boomed, cutting off my questioning. He had more faith in me than I did; however, even Odin had more faith in me than I did, which spoke volumes of my relationship with myself.

“What if I can’t?” I asked, my voice softening as fear took the place of the anger. I was afraid of myself-of what my presence could do to the people I loved. Life was easier when I believed I was just a simple sorceress, but when I was brought back to the land of the living, I felt more powerful than ever before, which left me terrified because I lost all sense of control I thought I had. Closing the space between us, my eyes locked with Thor’s, “I feel like I’m not the one holding the quill.”

“Then you take it!” he huffed, his hands trembling as my fear left him feeling just as uncertain of the future. He looked to me for a sense of stability, and I couldn’t be that foundation for him in that moment. His eyes scanned the room, almost as if he was searching for an answer hidden in a darkened corner, and when he turned his eyes back to me, I saw his renewed faith in me, “you take it and you do what I believe you can do-what I’ve always believed you could do: you write the ending the way you believe it was meant to be. You have the power to change the tide of this war with Cul, and you act like this new power has somehow changed you, but this power isn’t new. This power has always been a part of you, laying dormant in the recesses of your heart until the time was right. Now is the time to learn how to control it, and everyone will be there to help you, to guide you, and to support you. My father was wrong about you. He was wrong about everything I know to be true about both you and my brother. Loki’s not an abomination, and neither are you. You are our last hope, Eva. You’re Asgard’s last hope at defeating Cul and his armies, and I understand that you’ve given more than enough of your life and blood to serving the throne; however, I’m not asking you to serve the throne...I’m asking you to serve your people once more...as the princess of Asgard,” he insisted, his voice filled with determination and unwavering support.

I shook my head, his words leaving a bad taste in my mouth. Attempting to laugh it off, I nearly made myself sick. The sudden fluttering of butterflies wings in my abdomen was a harsh reminder of all the reasons why I should ignore my responsibilities to Asgard and to the ones I loved. For a fleeting moment, I entertained the idea of staying on Midgard with my children and ignoring the needs of my people, allowing them to be slaughtered. The mere thought caused a panic to race through me, so I shook it off, “don’t call me that,” I requested, the title not sounding quite right.

He smiled, seeing how uncomfortable it made me. He knew that it was a light request, so he would take the opportunity to tease me in the future about it, but the time for teasing and childish banter was tabled for the time being. The smile fell from his face as his eyes became filled with memories that I was not present for, memories I wished to decipher, but he asked once-many years ago-that his mind be off limits to me, “I never understood why Heimdall seemed to have a deeper loyalty to you than to my father, how he could bring himself to bend-even break-the rules for you. When I read your letter and discovered that you had come to Midgard, I demanded he send me here. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, really, but I just wanted to be close to you. Heimdall always referred to you as a princess, but on that night, I told him that he must listen to my command because I was the prince of Asgard. He told me that you were the princess, and his loyalty began to make more and more sense. It wasn’t until I discovered your parentage that I realized why he called you that, why he served you, why his loyalty has never been to the throne as long as you were alive. His sword has always been at your feet, and it’s not only because you’re the princess of Asgard: it’s because you are the light that leads the weary travellers home. You’re the foundation that empires are built upon, and he believes in you as a leader, as a warrior, and as a ruler. Your father may have been usurped, but you still hold a claim to the throne-one that many people would be happy to see you sit upon.”

“I want nothing more to do with that throne-I never have,” I confessed. The burden of holding an entire kingdom in my hands was a daunting idea in and of itself, and those who could remember Cul’s reign were sure to harbor animosity toward me once they discovered my true parentage. I was sure it wouldn’t be kept secret for too long should a war reach us. I wasn’t fit to rule, and I had to make Thor understand such things, “I wanted to marry Loki for love, not the throne or the royal titles that would come with it. I wanted to fight in Asgard’s wars for light and life, not for the throne. I serve my people because I cherish every life I encounter, not because I desire the throne. After this war is finished, I wish to never even see that throne room again for the rest of my life,” I snickered, remembering all the times I had been reprimanded for my wild behaviors in that throne room and all the times I spoke out against the Allfather. My youth was slowly lost in that throne room, and I couldn’t bear to lose anything else, “besides, I’m not meant to be chained to a throne, and you know that. I’m like the wind: wild and ever-changing. I could never rule the way past kings have ruled.”

He shrugged, “well, maybe it’s time for a change. Perhaps Asgard needs a queen.”

“It already has a queen: your mother,” I reminded him, not wishing to speak of the matter anymore. It was an idea that was good for nothing but the imagination, for it would never come to fruition anyway. I smiled, brushing past him as I made my way over to the bed, “you should go get some sleep. Midgard has us both lost in our own dreams, and we could both use some rest.”

“I have one last thing to say. It’s the reason why I followed you into your quarters tonight,” he interjected. He shifted his weight, wringing his hands together before our eyes connected. With a deep breath, he finally spoke, “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, his voice like a low rumble. Before I could offer up my words of forgiveness and my own apologies, he continued, “you are the woman I’ve always been in love with, but even more than that...you’re my best friend. The way I spoke to you-the words I said to you-are abhorrent, and they caused irreparable damage to the very fabric of our friendship. You have no reason to forgive me, for I should never be forgiven. I used my words as ammunition against you because your decision to save your child’s life was hurtful to me. I never considered the alternatives or the fear that lead you to your decision to bring her here. Instead, all I saw was how that decision impacted me and how it hurt her, but I never realized that it’s very possible that she wouldn’t be alive to hurt if you hadn’t made the most difficult decision of your life. Instead of supporting you the way friends are supposed to, I was angry with you and treated you with contempt. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most, and I judged your decision as an outsider to the situation. My heart has been heavy with guilt since our last discussion, so I came in here tonight to apologize and hope that you could find it in your heart to forgive me for what I have done.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You spoke to me as your friend who was hurt, and I find myself grateful that you care so deeply about my well-being and the health and happiness of my daughter to fight for her. I saw you advocate for my child, and while it wasn’t necessary, it gave me a sense of peace. Should I die, she will have you there to always advocate for her and keep her best interests in mind. She will be surrounded by people who will love her and protect her,” I explained, offering up a smile, “I wish you would have asked me why I did what I did because my decision was born out of my unconditional love for her. Not a day goes by that she’s not the very first thought I have in the morning and the very last thought I have before falling asleep. I love her more than I’ve ever loved another living thing. I look at her, and I see every happy memory I’ve ever had. She is sweet-natured like your brother, but she is wild like me. When this war with Cul is over and my presence will not present her with any harm, I will piece my family back together, and this pain will be a memory of my past. Once this is over, I will finally be happy.”

*Aurora’s POV*

Every bolt of lightning struck more than just the surface of the world, it also struck fear in my heart. I didn’t understand why a sound so natural would be one that scared me so much, but it left me trembling on the floor, staring out at the darkened sky. The rain fell hard enough that it drowned out the dwindling conversations around the apartment-like living quarters of the tower. Natasha and Clint were still throwing their usual banter back and forth, catching up as much as they could before Clint left the following day. He had opened up to me about the alternate life he lived aside from S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers. He spoke of his wife, Laura, and his children, Cooper and Lila. He discussed with Natasha how he and his wife were eager to have another baby, and Natasha would jokingly name the non-existent child after herself. Clint told her about his interest in building an addition onto his house, and she would recommend different colors if he was looking for a change. I was left entranced in most of their conversations, but it wasn’t for the banter or the friendly smiles back and forth.

I lost myself in the idea of having my own little family with a mother and father and siblings. I lost myself in the idea of going outside with my father and having him chase me around a field until he finally caught me. I lost myself in the idea of helping my mother redecorate our home on a whim because she needs a change of scenery. I lost myself in the idea of bickering with my siblings, which would lead to us eventually making up with each other and causing mischief that would drive any normal parent to the brink of insanity; however, our parents would love us all the more for it. I lost myself in the idea of my father overhearing my mother talking about adding an addition to our home, and he would surprise her with the necessary supplies before they both worked on renovations together, laughing and falling even more in love with every passing moment. I lost myself in the idea of a family that I could call my own. The team was my family, but I still dreamed of the one I must’ve had at one point when I was too young to remember.

There was another crack of thunder that startled me out of my silent dreaming. I flinched at the sound, and I knew that it was time to make the usual trek into one of five rooms. I could sleep with Natasha, but I knew that when I woke up, she would be holding me so tightly that I wouldn’t be able to move until she awoke. I could sleep with Bruce, but he was the lightest sleeper I knew; therefore, my nightmares that left me struggling to breathe would only frighten him just as much. I could sleep with Clint, knowing that he could offer me the most father-like care, but he had to leave in the morning; I didn’t want to be a bother. I could sleep with Steve, but he didn’t sleep when I was with him. Instead, he resorted to staying awake to watch over me whilst he read or lost himself deep in thought. Tony was the only other option, since Thor and Eva were both made “off limits” to me, and Tony may have needed me just as much as I needed him.

Before I could push myself off the floor, I caught the reflection of my own eyes in the glass. Eva’s eyes were the same color, but when I saw hers for the first time, I felt whole. Strangers we encountered while we were out with Natasha often did a double-take at Eva and I before noting that we looked like we were somehow related. I tried to laugh it off the way Natasha did, but I couldn’t help but wish that there was truth to it. While Eva was distant with me, there was something about her that my very essence was connected to. I loved her without knowing a single thing about her. I knew that she had a love of literature and that she was an Asgardian, but my knowledge was far too limited to claim love for her; however, love was present each time I even thought of her. No matter how many times she tried to push me away, I was pulled back to her by my own heart.

Another crack of thunder had me scrambling up off the floor. I slipped out of my bedroom, closing the door behind me and making sure to turn the handle to keep from the signature clicking sound of the latch that would give me away. I made my way to Tony’s room, my feet padding along the cold floor. My pace quickened with each crack of thunder until I reached Tony’s bedroom. I hoped that he would be in there and not in his workshop again. He had spent night after night in the workshop, refusing to sleep until he found a cure for the Extremis serum. Bruce helped him most of the time, but Tony worked non-stop. It was his way of coping. He told me that at one point, coping came in the form of drinking, but he claimed that he had made a promise to my mother that he would stop. He struggled to keep that promise when they brought Eva to the tower, though. When I visited him in his workshop, he would sit with a glass of his favorite whiskey right next to him, eyeing it every now and then. He claimed that the bottle hadn’t been opened since shortly before he made the promise to my mother.

I knocked on his bedroom door and breathed a sigh of relief when he called out for me to come in. I opened the door just wide enough to slip into the room and see him scribbling notes into one of the various journals he kept. It was no secret that he was still working on figuring out the Extremis and how it affected Eva. He wanted to have a solution before she left, which he feared would happen any day. Each time he looked at her, his expression was mixed between fear, endearment, and immeasurable guilt. He hadn’t spoken much to her since she woke up, but he sat with her day in and day out while she was still unconscious. I found him countless times passed out, leaning against the wall outside of her bedroom. Each and every time-after helping him back to his room-I found my way back to her room. Too afraid to open the door-I sat in the spot that was still warm from when Tony occupied it, and I fell asleep with dreams of a faceless woman with an all-too-familiar voice. Tony slept outside her room because he blamed himself for what happened. If anything could possibly be Tony’s fault, he felt guilty for it. I didn’t know why I slept outside her room.

He cast his eyes over to me without a word before turning his attention back to the words he was scribbling into his journal. I was silent as I entered the room and proceeded to crawl into the bed next to him, making myself as small as possible under the blankets. I curled my body as close to his as I could get, feeling safe around the people who swore their lives to me for some ungodly reason. As soon as I found a suitable and comfortable position, he closed the journal and pulled off his glasses, setting them both on the bedside table. He let out a long yawn and adjusted himself so that he could lay on his back, “can’t sleep?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he cast a fleeting glance over at me before turning it back to the ceiling. Another crack of thunder caused us both to flinch. I shook my head as my response, clutching the blankets around me and pulling them tighter. Sensing my fear, he did what he always did. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled my body flush against his, surrounding me in his warmth. I felt safe with Tony, but I also felt so much fear. I knew that should my life be on the line, he would sacrifice his to save mine, and I wasn’t worth such a tremendous sacrifice. I feared the depth of his love for me because it could only hurt him. Once he relaxed his muscles, he let out a long breath, “yeah, me neither,” he replied, rubbing circles onto my back.

I rested my head against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, allowing it to lull my heart back into a steady rhythm. Tony and I-much like the rest of the team and I-were connected in a way that was unexplainable. The connection was the same one I felt with Eva, even though few words had been exchanged between the two of us. The connection made it impossible to imagine a life without them, and when I thought of the prospect of not seeing one of them for even a single day, it tore me apart. I hated being away from Tony when he sent me to live with Steve, and I hated being away from Steve when I lived with Tony. It was a connection that breathed life into my heart, but it also caused such extreme misery. I loved without limits, almost as if my very soul was the same as the soul within each of the people I loved so dearly. I felt that connection especially with Eva. The idea of her departure caused even more panic in me, so I turned my focus back to Tony, “tell me a story,” I pleaded, thinking that maybe this time would be different. Rest never came to me during thunderstorms; however, it didn’t stop me from trying. This would’ve been a first if it happened.

“You really know how to put me on the spot, don’t you?” Tony chuckled, resting his right hand on his abdomen, his thumb gently brushing my forearm that was draped across his waist in an attempt to pull myself as close to him as possible. I didn’t trust many people, but I trusted Tony. With his left hand, he stroked my temple, brushing my hair back like he did whenever I was feeling sad. I listened as his breath hitched and his heart skipped a beat, but when I turned my gaze up to his face, he didn’t show the signs of fear that I anticipated. Instead, he wore such an endearing smile, as if he were reliving memories that had been living on the surface more so recently than ever before, “once upon a time, there was a princess, the most beautiful, delicate woman to grace the face of this world. She was gentle like people expected her to be as a princess, but she was fierce with a tongue sharper than any sword she ever wielded.”

“She watched over the world, and she hung the moon and the stars in the night sky to guide home every weary traveller, and she captured each of their hearts even though she promised herself to another. Her beloved, the prince of the land, was a gentle soul, and it was fitting that they end up together. They were two sides of the same coin, but they also couldn’t have been more different in some aspects. Fate pulled them apart time and time again, but the princess never lost hope even when her prince did. The prince was...different,” he searched for the right word and landed on that one, which he clearly didn’t think fit the description of the character, “the prince was kind and shy, but many people cast him aside. He wasn’t a warrior like other princes had been before him. Instead, he preferred books and nature. He was soft-spoken and gentlemanly. He helped the princess hang the moon and stars in the night sky because he cared about the weary travellers just as much as she did, but the people didn’t see his kindness and gentleness as strengths like they did in her. This drove him to build up walls around his heart, and he thought that he had to prove himself in order to earn her love. Little did he know, he would have her love no matter what.”

“The prince became a man the princess didn’t know, and she took to the cliffs, ready to throw herself off. The water crashed against the rocks and drowned out her own tears. Right before she leapt from the cliff, she heard the desperate pleas of a man out at sea. You see, there was a lowly craftsman-a man who didn’t belong out on the sea-who set out to fish in order to satiate his own hunger, and he was lost in an unforgiving storm. His boat wouldn’t last through the night, and he was afraid of dying. The sky was so thick with clouds that looked to be made of soot, making it impossible for him to even see with the help of the moon and stars that the princess had hung for people like him,” he choked out, that part of the story hitting a soft spot for him. I knew that the story was far more than just a work of fiction. It was a story about my parents, and he was the craftsman. I figured it out the moment he mentioned that the princess hung the stars in the night sky. Those were the only words I could remember my mother saying to me. I could remember nothing else.

Tony continued, his voice thick with emotion, “the craftsman was ready to give up just like she was, even though he was terrified of what would happen if he did. He was just so tired of fighting the storm, so he was ready to succumb to it. Then, he heard a distant voice. It was a song. The princess-even in her moment of grief and sorrow-pushed aside her emotions to guide him home. He followed the sound of her angelic voice, rowing himself toward the shore. When he reached the shore, he fell into the sand at her feet. She had descended from the cliff to stand on the shore to greet him when he finally returned. Tears blurred his vision when he looked up to take in the face of his savior, and his heart nearly stopped. He hadn’t expected the princess. He never expected that a princess would ever concern herself with a peasant like himself, but she did. She was far more beautiful than people described her, more stunning than he could even fathom himself. The moment he saw her, he fell madly in love with her. She was his saving grace, but what he didn’t know was that she had found another purpose, and it was to continue to save all those she could even while her heart was aching.”

“The princess and the craftsman became closer and closer as time passed, and they helped each other. Each day, he fell deeper and deeper in love with her, but he knew in his heart that it wasn’t meant to be between the two of them. He knew that her heart and soul were still promised to the prince, and he was happy if they could find happiness together. Her love saved her prince, and they found happiness together once more. The prince was saved from himself, and no matter how badly the craftsman wished she would end up in his arms, he knew that the princess was always meant to be with the prince. Instead, the craftsman promised his craft to her, and from that moment on, she lived within his heart. Everything he crafted was tinged with the color of her eyes, even if it was as small as an emerald on the hilt of a sword. He incorporated a piece of her into everything he did, and as he got to know the prince-a man he grew to consider a friend-he found a way to include the sky blue hue of his eyes into his work as well. In his work, the prince and princess would live forever, and he found a way to keep them close even when they seemed to be worlds away,” he finished, forcing a smile onto his face as he spoke. There was a sorrow in him when he told the story, a sort of homesickness that came whenever I asked about my parents.

“Is there something wrong with me?” I asked, biting my bottom lip to keep it from quivering as the emotion washed over me. It felt as if I was in a state of constant confusion. What had I done that was so wrong that they left me? If they were these beautiful, amazing, miraculous people who strived to help everyone, what was so wrong with me? Sensing Tony’s confusion, I continued, trying to explain my question a bit more, “you tell me all about how they loved the world, how they were the type of people who would take a bullet for a complete stranger because they had so much love in their hearts, so why couldn’t they love me like that?”

Tony pulled away from me to prop himself up onto his elbow and stare down at me. His eyes had never been so serious in all the time I’d known him, “I never want you to think that you weren’t loved by them-that you aren’t still loved. Your mother made the most difficult decision of her life when she decided to give you to me. She told me every little thing about you, every little idiosyncrasy that united to make you the girl she loved so fiercely. I never want to hear you even insinuate that you weren’t loved because your mother loved you more than she ever loved another living thing. She loved you more than she loved herself. She loved you until it hurt,” he explained before resting back onto the bed next to me, allowing me to pull our bodies close together once more. It was the most difficult concept to wrap my head around-how two people could love me so deeply but send me away. I didn’t understand it. Before my thoughts could run their course, Tony’s voice sounded again as he stared up at the ceiling, “your mother and father were meant to have children, but fate hurled hardship after hardship their way. Fate was cruel to your parents, and in order to protect you, a difficult choice had to be made. Never think...not even for a moment, that the decision to leave you with me was made lightly or that it wasn’t made with your best interests in mind. You are with me because your mother made a choice that hurt her so deeply, but that choice was born of nothing but pure, unadulterated love. Fate had other plans for your mother and father, plans that they were undeserving of. Fate was cruel to you, too. I remember how your mother cried when she brought you to me, how she wept as she spoke her final words to you. I watched her heart shatter that day as I held her in my arms, and I wished with all I had that I could just fix it. That’s what I do: I fix things. I just couldn’t fix what she needed me to.”

His words caused a jolt of sadness to surge through me like a bolt of lightning. I wished to hear her recollection of it. I wanted to hear the gentle quiver in her voice as she told me of the most difficult day of her life. I wanted to hear it because I wanted to comfort her. My dreams were simple, and that was one of them. I cleared my throat, “she’s the princess in the story, and you’re the craftsman. You loved her,” I remarked, feeling an immediate pang of guilt for putting him on the spot, but it disappeared when his breath hitched and his heart skipped a beat. I smiled at the thought of them together. Tony would’ve made such a good father, and he was the closest thing I ever had to one. I felt a sense of wholeness when I imagined a little family with him and my mother, but something still didn’t feel right about it. My voice cut through the silence once more, “I only remember one thing about my mother. I don’t remember her face, her name, or even the sound of her voice. All I can remember are the words she said to me. She told me that she hung the moon and stars in the sky so that they would watch over me throughout the night, and if I were to ever feel lonely, all I needed to do was look up into the sky, and I would find her here amongst them. I can...I can remember that. She was the princess in your story, and you...loved her.”

He nodded his head, and I lifted my head just enough to see a stray tear fall from the corner of his eye, slide past his temple and make a home somewhere in his dark hair, “if I could choose one woman to marry, if I could be totally selfish, I would choose her. A fair few of us who met your mother have fallen in love with her. She was this ethereal being who you couldn’t help but become entranced by. She could lure you in with her physical beauty-a gentleness and a wildness unlike any I’d ever seen before. Then, once you heard her laugh, once you saw that smile, once you felt the warmth of her heart, it was over,” he wore a fond smile, “I loved them both in different ways. It’s hard to admit this, but your father deserved her far more than I ever did. He deserved nothing but happiness and joy, and she brought that to him. They were meant to find each other in every reality and every lifetime, and all I ever wanted was to see them happy.”

I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, but with each crack of thunder and flicker of lightning outside, I was startled back awake over and over again. Just when I was on the brink of falling asleep, I was pulled back into full consciousness. The desperate attempts to drown out the sound of the storm were in vain. Tony’s steady heartbeat could only offer me so much solace, and his quiet breathing wasn’t nearly loud enough for me to use as a way to ignore the sky that opened up with such agony. Before I knew what I was doing, I was padding down the hallways, pacing back and forth between the living area and the library. I could stay up all night and watch movies, or I could lose myself in a few books in the library. I couldn’t make up my mind, and in my pacing, my feet decided on a new direction, and I was involuntarily pulled toward Eva’s bedroom. She didn’t want to see me, and I didn’t expect her to want to comfort me. I couldn’t help but wonder, though...what if?

The princess was my mother, and Tony said that her eyes were green. My eyes were green, and Eva’s eyes were green. People mistook us for being related when we were out shopping with Nat. Tony seemed to have strong feelings for Eva, which were only heightened after all the tragedies that unfolded recently. He slept by her side and worked tirelessly on a cure for the Extremis serum. Tony was also vocal about his love for my mother. Perhaps it was my exhaustion or my desperation for a mother-figure to bond with, but I secretly wished that the woman on the other side of the door was my mother. Eva built up walls, but I saw little bits and pieces of the woman within those walls, and she was the person I was looking for. I didn’t know what my past looked like, but I knew that I wanted her to be a part of my future.

With another crack of thunder, I wrapped my hand around the doorknob, knowing somewhere deep in my soul that Eva was the only one who could chase away the storm.

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slothcritic · 5 years

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Dragon Ball Z Abridged - Episode 5 Review

Weird yet creative cutaways with strong overarching momentum.

Vegeta: Kills Bugs Dead opens with Goku finally reaching the end of Snake Way and the end of his journey to reach King Kai. The "nice job, jackass" as Goku literally craters into the planet sets the tone for this character in a big way. We're also treated to the incredible hijinks of Vegeta and Nappa.

[Title Sequence]

The pit-stop at Arlia at least receives a well-fitted and rather hilarious incarnation in this series. Even though the episode alternates its focus between King Kai and Arlia, I'm going to talk at length about Arlia first, and then move onto the King Kai segments.

I'm already going into this scene with some personal bias, as the "stronger guy playing along with the weaker guy because it'd be funny" trope is one of my favorites. And here we have exactly this. Vegeta and Nappa allow themselves to be captured and thrown in jail by the Arlians, where they meet an assortment of varied bug characters.

"Don't drop the soap" seems a little outdated for the modern style of TFS, as I feel they've leaned away from really older, cruder, less PC subject matters like calling someone retarded or insinuating prison rape, etc, but it fits Nappa's character completely as someone who is childish, crass, annoying for the sake of being annoying, and kind of a jerk. TFS has at least acknowledged the idea of possibly re-dubbing Season 1 with better equipment and perhaps a more refined script, and I dearly hope they keep this line unedited simply for the sake of nailing Nappa’s character identity.

After very nearly becoming a prison bitch, Vegeta decides he's had enough and promptly kabooms his way out of prison, landing smack-dab in the middle of a coliseum with the king of Arlia and his queen.

Nappa's blunt manner of introducing himself with simply "Hi." will never age.

It’s noteworthy that scene is also the first moment we get a good look at Vegeta as a character. Nappa was firmly established as the goofball from the start, but Vegeta's portrayal has more depth to it than could be conveyed in one-liners. Most of which is just sass, smug pride, and anger, but still.

It's also made clear very quickly that despite their bantering idiocy and gruff talk that they're not just for show, as Nappa no-diff's the thirteen elite Arlian guards with a massive shock wave that we later see level a city.

The king and queen are then more or less blackmailed into fucking. Nappa's eager fascination during this whole scene, the descriptions, visual edits and sound design are... Well, there's no other way to put it, it's fucked up. And it is hilarious! These are some very creative takes and decisions that were made entirely for internal experience of the show itself rather than as a parody of something else. Nappa even takes a photograph of it and sends it to Vegeta, since he's abstained from watching.

The comedic jabs don't stop there either, as Nappa tries to adopt the Arlian Rancor, but just like the kid who can't sit still, Nappa ends up breaking everything he plays with. Just as Vegeta is about to kill the king, rocks begin flying around the coliseum.

"What are you doing?"

Vegeta smirks. "I'm about to rock you, like a hurricane." And then boom, he hurls a rock into the king and kills him. Let's put a pin in that brick joke for later.

The long flashback scene doesn't play any music, which feels like a weird editing misstep after a series of home runs. They leave the planet as heroes, and Nappa sets Vegeta up for another predictable bit of mood whiplash, where Vegeta obliterates the entire planet. This is a huge escalation in power scale compared to everything else we have seen thus far. But then, this is Dragon Ball Z. We've already reached “destroying planets” at only the fifth episode, and everyone knows that it only goes well past 11 on the dial from here on out.

Granted, there is controversy in the official version about whether or not this would’ve been possible for Saiyan Saga Vegeta, considering Arlia is not canon, but I will not be considering that simply because DBZA contains no filler. Everything shown in the flagship series (not counting movies, DBZA Kai, or other shorts) is presented as being canon to DBZA. Also, Vegeta and Nappa are shown standing outside of their pods... in the vacuum of space. Series veterans will understand the massive can of worms this opens. I'm looking at you, Battle of Gods.

Once everyone, including the people that they JUST SAVED from a tyrannical king, have been reduced to space dust, Nappa closes off this scene nicely.

Now that we've discussed Arlia, let's focus on King Kai's role in the episode.

He explains to Goku that the planet has high gravity due to it's small size. Gregory from off-screen pipes up that this doesn't make any sense. I suppose "higher planet density" wasn't considered when writing the script - or perhaps it was, and they just decided that the easy answer wasn't the funniest one. Maybe “there’s an incredibly powerful pirate trapped in the core of the planet, which is why the gravity is so strong" was deemed better for a parody.

Honestly, I agree. Bojack works as an in-the-know reference, and is also fleshed out enough within the show that a newcomer would understand what's being discussed.

At the time of this review, the Bojack Abridged movie has not yet been released, but this is easily one of the longest brick jokes in all of DBZA, since Episode 5 was released in 2008 and it is my expectation that Bojack Abridged will be released within the year, leaving in its wake an 11 year old callback.

When King Kai asks Goku why he had been sought out, Goku explains that the Saiyans are coming to Earth and he requires training. Excellent fade-in and musical choice for Goku's uncharacteristically serious speech to King Kai.

Of course, it gets cut off at the peak swell with King Kai's indifferent "sure", leaving Goku gobsmacked.

In this series, King Kai's indifference and easy acceptance of Goku is attributed to the mind-numbing loneliness of only having a monkey and a grasshopper (cricket, sorry) to talk to for the last 500 years. Goku agrees, as he couldn't imagine anything more boring.

Major flash-forward to Namek. Just this scene being here at all is a major instance of a sequence break. But it is the introduction of another exceptionally interesting character in the series.

In terms of placement, this works as a long-term cutaway gag and reminiscent humor but not much else. We're still about half a season away from even considering Namek within the story, and the Saiyans haven't even arrived on Earth yet. The decision to slide this segment into the middle of this episode leaves some serious questions in my mind. But at face value, it's not that bad.

We're treated to a solid ten seconds of just staring at a massive fat green alien while birds chirp in the background. We hear a fish go "plonk!" in the water, and Lord Guru calls for someone named Nail, who looks a lot like Piccolo, to approach him.

"I saw a fish. That was all, you can go back outside now."

Definitely reinforces the point of boring. And while Nail is lamenting how boring his job is, Lord Guru tells him that he saw a bird and then promptly instructs him to "kick its ass."

But we’re not Nail, are we? We’re the viewer, and for some reason in the human mind, segments of extremely boring content usually pique our interest even more, because we have it drilled into our psyche that something is going to happen to break the tension sooner or later. That notion, the idea of slowly leaning closer to the monitor during the ten long seconds of a single still image, both conveys the boring tone of Namek, but also leaves the reader waiting in anticipation long enough for these dull scenes to just fade from their perspective and only latch onto the climatic moment. In this case, Guru commanding his apparent servant/bodyguard to assault a fish.

Not to overstate the obvious, but if it’s not the viewer’s own sense of tension and curiosity, it’s the pure absurdism and characterization of Guru that carries this scene. Disregarding source material, the design of Guru is meant to make him look old, wise and compassionate. Making him a lazy, annoying, verbally violent fatass is a near-infinite cash cow of writing material. It’s very difficult for me to judge this scene unbiased, knowing what comes next, but I imagine this would be a tryhard non-sequitur at worst, or promising potential for the future at best, with regards to this scene on its own, within the context of this episode and nothing more.

This episode also saw the genesis of perhaps not the first, but one of the most popular jokes in all of DBZA: Piccolo just jobbing the shit out of Gohan. DODGE! The scenes chosen and the delivery are outstanding compliments to this cheesy, simplistic joke. At this point I feel it's important to address that my editorial reflections or descriptions of these skits are relative to the context of these episodes. Even with the best of what this episode has to offer, we're still in peak 2008 internet humor era. The use of the word "outstanding" here will not carry a similar significance should I use it to describe a later episode.

Also the most random cutaway in all of DBZA, full-stop, is the brief look into the Hall of Justice, as Superman, Batman and Aquaman debate how they will stop the approaching Saiyans. This is humorous only in its absurdity, but less-endearingly than Guru was. Even if this scene makes zero sense, and relies upon an almost lower form of comedy than slapstick, Aquaman's voice is still just Krillin's voice. At least Superman and Batman sound different than the main cast. I'm really tempted to dislike this more, but the lackadaisical attitude and context of the whole scene definitely draws your eye more than a lot of the sensible but base-line plot progression of the story. I don't know if it belongs. To me, this scene just screams out that TFS is flinging spaghetti wildly at the wall, any and everything that might be funny, and while some of it sticks for one reason or another, (Jadoshin as Solid Snake, Antics on Arlia, even Guru's abrupt cameo) some of it flops. If anything, this show builds upon the corpses of its failures, and learns what works and what doesn't work surprisingly quickly.

Conclusion

Bizarre, but I liked it. Nothing in this episode that's bad is memorable. I might criticize the Namek cutaway for being out of place, but after letting this review sit for a few days, I just remember Goku saying "Man, nothing could be more boring than that!" and the immediate cut to Namek, and Nail pleading for the love of his sanity for something to happen. I might criticize the Justice League cutaway for being wildly out of the place, but I just remember "WHAAAAAALES!"

The meat of the episode was also decent, as it establishes Goku training under King Kai, and Piccolo's continued training of Gohan, the origin of DODGE! and the realization that Gohan can transform into an Ozaru. And you can nod your head and say that these may be necessary to the story all day, but they're also presented with... let's call it a clumsy grace. It's not bad, but it's miles away from official dub quality. This is in essence what the benchmark or gold standard was for early abridging back in 2008. The quality that TFS will continue to evolve the series into simply defies all logic or explanation, and in comparison makes these episodes look downright crude.

But let's face it, if Episode 1 began with a person lying on the ground and shot in both kneecaps, Episode 5 shows that same person at least hobbling down the street to the hospital.

It might not look pretty on the whole, and some of the dialogue might be clunky, but it seems like a lot of the flaws in this episode are simply caused by being products of their time.

Whether we're looking at Namek or The Hall of Justice, even the most outlandish oddities of this episode have still made me laugh. That's really the end of it.

Score: 75

Passing Thoughts

"I hope something exciting happens around here soon. I don't care what it is." - Ominous!

"You're surrounded by my thirteen elite *KABOOM* ...dead guards."

"SUMMON THE RANCOR!"

#slothcritic #DBZ #Dragon Ball Z Abridged #TFS #teamfourstar

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imagine-darksiders · 5 years

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Cold Hands, Warm Heart.

Chapter 6 - Vulgrim.

Chapters 1-5 on Ao3.

Summary: It’s the beginning of your journey to the Cauldron. Along the way, both you and Death find yourselves learning something new about the other and it isn’t long before you run into your first obstacle.

-----

Navigating the long, crumbling bridge cavern was easy.

Navigating it with a human tagalong however was....interesting.

Death – who had no idea there were so many fascinating distractions to be discovered – stalks several feet behind the young human; now his little travelling companion, it would seem.

The absence of any immediate danger has clearly lulled her into a false sense of security and as such, she's become bolder. Glowering at the back of her head, Death wonders how long that will last. She's even begun to stray from his side, venturing further and further every passing minute as soon as something new catches her eye. The basis for her intrigue in these discoveries are, as far as he can tell, based on absolutely nothing at all, and with not much else to do, he starts languidly trying to predict which mundane, uninspiring object she'll scurry over to next.

'A rock,' he notes, rolling his eyes as she bends down and selects a smooth, grey stone from the weathered path at her feet. Then, turning it over in her hands, she looks around, searching. 'Ah. Not the rock itself.'

He watches her trot ahead a few more metres to the edge of the grassy walkway that spans one side of the cavern to peer cautiously over the edge. Extending an arm out, she holds the rock above a pool of water gathered at the bottom of a deep, wide chasm cut out of the floor and promptly tips her hand, letting it plummet several feet into the natural pond with an negligible 'sploosh'.

The horseman blinks. What that accomplished, he'll never know but she seems to be satisfied with her findings, judging by her decisive nod. At least until Dust swoops overhead and lets out a conversational squawk, startling the human and sending her back-peddling to sheepishly fall in line with his long strides.

Despite her jittery disposition, he has to give credit where it's due; She came with him. Namely, she left the promise of safety to follow him out into a world she'd never experienced before....and yet, she jumps at shadows.

'How can one person be afraid of everything yet fear nothing?' Boundless as the universe is, there are very few mysteries in it that the horseman gives much thought to. Nothing perplexes him anymore, but he puzzles over this particular paradox for some time until your voice rudely snaps him from his thoughts.

“What...The Hell....Is that?”

-----

With his brow still creased in a pensive glower, Death follows you beneath a structural archway built around the tunnel's exit and steps into the sunlight. A verdant, boundless valley stretched out before him, surrounded to the south, east and west by craggy, sandstone cliffs. Beyond them, far on the distant horizon, a ring of snowy mountain peaks climb up into the sky - cold, foreboding and just as unforgiving as the land itself. Through his mask, Death's nostrils catch a strong whiff of wood smoke and beneath that, the acrid stench of brimstone, carried on an autumnal breeze from the east. The horseman scrunches his face up distastefully. Regardless of Alya's directions, it would not have been difficult to determine the location of The Cauldron. He need only use his sense of smell.

Meanwhile, you have a hand held over your squinted eyes to shield them from the occasional sunbeam that breaks through the thin, fast-moving layer of clouds rolling by overhead and you're staring avidly across the vale, a haunted expression darkening your features. He watches as the wind lifts your hair, buffeting it around your face and when a wayward beam of sunlight shimmers brilliantly off the glossy strands, he huffs and looks away.

The horseman's own hair – weighed down by grime and dirt – hangs stubbornly around his shoulders, as if the wind alone weren't a strong enough force to affect it in any way.

He follows your line of sight to the north, landing upon an archway formed by two, adjacent statues depicting a pair of stone makers that tower hundreds of metres up into the air, their arms raised to hold aloft a spherical boulder, engraved in the centre of which is the unmistakable outline of a tree. It's a gateway, if ever he saw one. Enormous and far too gaudy, in typical maker fashion. His eyes rove above it and in the distance, he can just make out the faint outline of an impossibly tall tree trunk with branches twisting and spiralling upwards for miles before they disappear beyond a layer thick, grey clouds.

It's a landmark that can be found in every corner of all the galaxies, its roots connect each realm and serve as a portal network, or a bridge to those seeking worlds beyond their own. Every world has its own Tree, all unique in appearance and placement, but it is still the same. There is only one Tree of Life even though technically, there are thousands. It's a phenomenon Death has never bothered to try and understand. It's just part of the furniture now.

But the object of your abhorrence isn't the Tree of Life, nor is it the ostentatious gateway. Although with your seemingly endless supply of doe-eyed wonder, he doubts you'd share his sentiment. In fact you'd probably think the statues were impressive.

No. The thing that captured your attention, stretching between the statues like a highly inconvenient roadblock is a gigantic, writhing black land mass, a hideous, undulating bubo of squirming tendrils and glistening, oily flesh, marring the otherwise bucolic landscape.

And as if he hadn't seen it, as if he hadn't clocked such a disturbing shape the moment he stepped out into the valley, Death casually asks, “What the Hell is what?”

He anticipates the scoff you aim at him, but he's wholly unprepared for you to suddenly let out a yelp and latch onto his bracer a second later, mouth agape whilst you point fervently at the black growth. “Oh, ew! It moved!”

Indeed it had. As you watch, trying to gauge just what in the world you're looking at, a crack of light appears in the centre of the glistening mess, splitting open horizontally like a fissure and widening into a sphere of putrid yellow with something long and dark curving down the centre, not unlike a slitted pupil. At that point, it's with no small amount of horror that you realise you're gaping at an enormous, bulging eye! Then, to make matters worse, it promptly snaps in your direction, the tendrils that form grotesque eyelids pulling apart to zero in on you and Death from all the way across the grassy vale.

The horseman makes a noise in the back of his throat, whereas you – still hanging from his arm like some kind of human shaped limpet – mutter a creative compilation of “Ew!” and “Gross!” with the odd, “Oh that's grim!” thrown into the mix.

After a moment or two spent gawking, you manage to croak, “That is probably the foulest thing I think I've ever seen.”

You'd also like very much to look away from it, but find you're unable to do so.

Casting his mind back to a time before humanity came on the scene, Death recalls a similar occurrence, of a realm whose entire landscape consisted solely of pulsating, pink flesh. The hills, the trees, even the rocks and residences. One of those hills had opened up, much like this one, to reveal a gigantic, swollen eye that stared at him as he passed by, following his movements, seemingly keen to catch his gaze.

Suppressing an involuntary shudder, the horseman tilts his head towards you and offers, “Not even in my top ten.”

Morbidly curious, you glance up at the underside of his chin and open your mouth to ask if he'll tell you what could possibly beat this thing to the number one spot, when the writhing mass suddenly lets loose a blood curdling screech. The sound rolls across the vale, rattling the ground as it goes and shaking pebbles free of the cliff behind you. Gasping hard, you take an automatic step behind Death.

“Wonderful,” he remarks snidely with an elaborate eye roll and raises his free hand, the other now bent behind his back, still clasped by your trembling fingers. Several feet away, there's a spectral whinny preceded by Despair suddenly bursting out of the ground in a flurry of green mist. “Isn't this a surprise. We've found yet another thing for you to be afraid of.”

Although his words are completely accurate, they still strike a delicate place in your heart. The look of hurt that flashes across your face is there and gone faster than he can blink.

Unfortunate then, that the horseman seldom tends to blink at all.

He catches that almost imperceptible twitch of your eyebrows, the flash of your throat as you swallow thickly and the minutest tug of your lips and he's bewildered to find that your expression unsettles him. Not much, admittedly. But enough that he notices.

It's...odd.

For as long as he can remember, he's been like this.

Teasing at best and downright disparaging at worst. And never once has he wished he could take a snide remark back. Which is probably why the curl of his gut agitates him now, because for the first time in his immeasurably long life, he's struck with the temptation to snatch his words out of the air and stuff them back down his throat.

It occurs to him, after a quick moment of reflection, that usually, his remarks are met with anger, cold indifference, or they're simply ignored altogether.

Oh, he's upset people, certainly. But they'd always be too proud or too irritable to show that his comment had any kind of negative effect. The fact that you had allowed hurt – however briefly – to creep onto your face leaves Death....not ashamed, per se, but undoubtedly disconcerted, aware that this is a human in his company. One who'd just lost everything she's ever known in the span of a day. If anyone deserves to be spared his insensitivity, at least for a little while, it's you.

Death sighs, turning an apology over and over on his tongue. Yet before he can stumble out an awkward 'Sorry,' you whirl about and stalk purposefully over to Despair, stomping your new boots on the ground to emphasise that you're upset, as if he needed another clue.

“I think, given the circumstances, my fear is completely rational!” you call back to him over a shoulder.

“Mmmm...”

With the swollen, yellow eye still trained on his every movement, Death finds he's inclined to agree. The horseman trails along behind you, watching closely as you reach up to give his steed's hairless nose bone a friendly scratch and mutter, “What is that thing anyway?”

At least the wounded note has disappeared from your voice.

Death hums as he approaches Despair's side and pats the saddle, moving back to allow you up first, a move that surprised all parties – the horse, Dust, who'd since taken up his usual perch on the saddle-horn, you and Death himself.

Lips pulling up into a tiny grin, you huff out a quick laugh. “And they say chivalry is dead.” Then you're suddenly stifling a girlish titter at your own joke.

Huh. Another new feeling, the complete antithesis to the previous. This time, when Death's stomach gives a meagre lurch, it isn't followed by a sour taste in his mouth. First, you'd been upset by something he said, and now you're laughing because of something he did.

The horseman's eyes roll up to the sky and he grumbles, “Humans,” under his breath, then realises that, before your little jab at his expense, you'd asked him a relevant question.

“That,” he nods to the giant, perversely twisted version of what he can only assume was a Shadow Lurker, “is Corruption, it's also where we need to....” He trails off with an amused chuckle, watching you try to mount his horse. “Would you like a hand?”

As he'd been talking, you made several sad attempts to get your leg high enough to reach Despair's stirrup, failing every time. Embarrassed beyond comprehension, you nod, hoping that he won't notice your burning cheeks. “Yes please..”

Death's cold hands slide under your bent shin and, with surprising gentleness, he gives you a helpful leg-up, his fingers hovering just above the back of your thighs until you're properly seated, both of your feet dangling several inches above the stirrups.

Suddenly, he understands why the makers were so hung up on your size.

Perched upon his comparatively massive horse, it's difficult to ignore just how small you really are.

Mumbling out a word of thanks, you scoot forwards to make room for him at the back. When Death pulls himself up behind you, it's effortless, seamless and sure.

Taking hold of the reins, the horseman barely squeezes his heels and Despair stops trying to bend his head around to nibble your booted toe, instead facing forwards again and ambling lazily over the dry grass, heading for the eastern cliffs and a narrow gap carved right through the centre of the rock face. The impermeable arms of the horseman circled to your left and right provide you with a fleeting sense of security, though you still glance warily at the eye as it trails after you, unblinking. “So...that's Corruption, huh?” Your voice is as tiny as you are, he notes.

“Well, part of it,” he elaborates, “More the effects of Corruption. I'd wager that used to be a Shadow Lurker, or something of that ilk. Eye's a dead giveaway....”

Swallowing, you tear your gaze off the slithering, expansive tendrils that seem to beckon you closer enticingly, waving back and forth like airborne leviathans.

“Is that what happened to the other makers?” you croak, “Eideard said it...changed them. Got iside their bodies and minds and made them...bad.”

“I suppose if one were to boil it down, that's essentially what happens, yes.”

Silence again and Death watches you distractedly run a finger over Dust's wing. Then, softly, you murmur, ”Do you think it can corrupt humans?”

The horseman scoffs. “I imagine if it can corrupt the makers, then it should have no problem infecting one, little human. I'm fairly certain Corruption doesn't discriminate, so long as the prey is alive..”

A shudder ripples from the tips of your fingers to your shoulders, travelling through so violently, he feels it against his leather faulds. Letting out a soft 'ah,' Death leans down, his height advantage granting him the leverage to peer around at the side of your face. “You're afraid it'll corrupt you.”

Bowing away from his intrusive gaze, you keep your eyes fixed on the ground passing by and lapse into a deep quiet, at least until Despair finally reaches the valley's end and steps into the craggy notch. There's an unspoken, unanimous agreement that everyone is glad to have shaken the glare of that corrupted eyeball.

High overhead, vines of mottled green tangle together, forming a canopy that stretches between the two cliff faces, effectively blocking out the sun and casting all three of you in a pretty, dappled light. Behind you, Death waits patiently to see if you'll respond. It takes several more moments before you draw in a slow breath, exhale it, and utter quietly, “I don't want to be made bad.”

Despair's hoofbeats echo and bounce around the notch until he sound of running water hits your ears, cutting above his soft clops. The narrow passage opens out a little and you find yourself in an enclosed basin with a waterfall tumbling from the cliff to your right, disappearing beneath a wooden portcullis that bridges a gap in the path over a crystal-clear, sunken lake. To the left, there's a dilapidated, half flooded dungeon carved out of the cliff wall, every stone glistening wet with precipitation.

Wary of an ambush, Death scans the ramparts and extended balconies, his eyes narrowed and focused.

Half of his attention on the human in front of him, half on a suspicious shadow that turns out to be nothing more than a huge, ceramic pot, he casually remarks, “So long as you don't let any corrupted creatures get a hold of you, you'll be fine.”

A skeptical snort jumps out of your nose. “Uh...I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly the fastest thing on two legs.”

Still perched on the saddle horn, Dust bobs his head - whether in agreement or just because he's a bird – either way, you shoot him a half-hearted glare.

“Well then, I suppose it's a good thing I am, isn't it?” Death hums coolly, eyeing a ripple that had disturbed the lake's surface, “I won't let anything touch you.”

He had meant it to be ignorable, a throwaway statement. He hadn't even realised there was an underlying significance behind it until you purse your lips, eyes wet and conflicted, and promptly blurt out, “God, I don't get you.”

Caught off guard by the shift in your tone, Death blinks and drags his attention from the water to peer down at you curiously. “I beg your pardon?”

He abruptly draws back when your hands are suddenly flung into the air, a clear sign of exasperation. “Well, you're just so...so contrary! Everything I say, you've got some smart aleck remark to hit back with, but every now and again, you turn around and say something that could almost be construed as...as nice!”

Leaning over Despair's neck, you run your fingers along the horse's protruding vertebrae and chew on your lower lip, and in a small voice, you murmur, “Like...like, I get that you don't like me because I'm a coward or whatever. But then you'll say and – and do stuff that makes me think, maybe you don't not like me. Why can't you just-”

“You're not a coward.”

Several rapid blinks convey your surprise and you almost dislodge yourself from the saddle with the speed at which you swivel around to ogle him. After a few moments of staring at each other, you scrunch your nose up and with a definite crack in your voice, swiftly declare, “Yes I am! I'm afraid of everything! You literally just said so yourself back there with the - with the Corrupted thing!”

“I-” He falters, casting his mind back.

“And back on the mountain,” you continue accusingly, “The first time I met your horse, you called me a coward.”

The death mask - blank and impassive as ever – provides you with no indication of his thoughts. Even his burning eyes betray nothing, staring down at you unflinchingly as opposed to yours that widen, resolve faltering until at last, you can no longer meet the horseman's gaze any more than you can stare at the sun for too long. Biting the inside of your cheek, you twist around and face Despair's neck once more.

The moment your back is to him, Death blinks. He had called you a coward, hadn't he?...

'I was wrong,' a tiny, irritating voice breathes into his ear.

The horseman opens his mouth - 'Say it!' - and slowly lets it fall shut again.

'Now who's the coward?'

From the corner of your eye, you see his finger tap idly on Despair's metal reins.

Wracking his brain, Death draws in a frigid breath, his chest expanding and pressing firmly against your back as he gently puts, “I did.”

Apparently, you don't pick up on his deliberate use of the past tense because your shoulders slump, head sagging down closer to your chest.

“Let me ask you something,” the horseman declares abruptly, “When you first saw me, you marked me a monster, yes?”

Confused, you raise your head again and squint. “Well, I-”

He clears his throat pointedly and you realise that perhaps being polite isn't necessary in this instance. Still, uncertain where he's going with this, you tentatively reply, “Okay, yeah. Yes, I did.”

“And when I first spoke to you on that mountain, I had you pegged as a coward.”

Although you certainly can't dispute that, you still grumble, “Yeah, I think we established that..”

At your back, you feel a rumbling laugh reverberate through his chest. “You are perhaps not what I'd call 'lionhearted,' certainly. But-” He pauses to note the white-knuckle grip you have on the hem of your jumper. “- You left Tri Stone.”

Failing to see his point, you cock your head back to look at him. “Yeah. So?”

Death patiently appraises you down his nose ridge, his eyes hooded and sage. “A coward would have stayed in the safety of the village, with the makers.”

“I was....tempted, believe me,” you murmur after a moment of quiet thought and, shame-faced, you face the path again.

“But you didn't give in to temptation. And that makes all the difference.” He falls silent, allowing his meaning to sink in as he thoughtfully regards the top of your head. After several seconds pass again in total silence, he bites down hard on his pride and sniffs, voice as nonchalant and level as he can make it, “I don't think you're a coward anymore.”

Just like that, the fingers trying to catch Despair's wispy mane fall still and rigid in mid air. All the air leaves your lungs.

Death is....definitely not what – or who - you'd expected. When you first learnt his name, you never expected he would be capable of anything other than cold indifference, apathy in spades and a complete disregard for any and all life. But as you talk with him, communicate with the Grim Reaper himself and hear the fluctuations of his voice and think back on all the things he's done that – if done by a human – wouldn't have been all that odd, you realise that he may not have been the only one to judge someone based on what they are.

You a human; He'd taken you for a coward, and you can't fault him for that.

But you in turn, took him – Death – for a monster.

Even after he saved your life, slung you over his broad shoulder and carried you off your dying world. Even when he rescued you from that skeletal beast on the mountain, you'd still been afraid of him. Hell, you still are, on some level. He just has an air about him that promises danger, trouble and ill-fortune.

But aside from making a few, careless comments along the way, the fact that he hasn't actually done anything even remotely monstrous to you, hits you like a tonne of bricks. He even told you he wouldn't let Corruption touch you, and you're mouthing off? He probably didn't ask for this situation any more than you did and on top of that, he's having to deal with you treating him like the bad guy. All too suddenly, you realise that if you're going to be travelling with Death for the foreseeable future, sooner or later you'll have to cut him some slack.

Starting with....

“I-I don't think you're a monster by the way....” you whisper shyly, “Not anymore, I mean. I-If that matters..”

And to the unflappable horseman's own astonishment, it does. If only because the statement is one he's seldom – if ever – heard.

Without even discussing it with each other first, all of Creation seemed to have come to a collective consensus regarding Death.

He is hated.

For as long as he can remember, he's been the antagonist in horror stories told by angels to their children of a monstrous spectre who'll steal their souls if they misbehave, who's stolen the life from even the bravest of Heaven's warriors for no reason other than contempt. Even demons find him abhorrent, the hypocrites. Then there were the humans, who feared the concept of Death more than they despised the horseman himself. Although the lines between fear and hatred are so often blurred, sometimes even he can feel the sting of their dread and he can't help but take it personally.

The truth of the matter is that Death is accustomed to being the Bogeyman of Creation. And the firmer truth - he wouldn't even argue it, because they're right. The truth is as indisputable as the fact that angels have wings or demons have horns.

He is hated because he is monstrous.

The temptation to call you an ignoramus arises out of nowhere, to chide you for being so naïve as to think the creature sitting at your back is anything less than a monster. But what would the point be in making you afraid of him again? Any fear you harboured before had been natural, not to mention understandable. Good instincts, that one.

Yet, you'd gotten over that fear blindingly fast, faster than he would have thought possible. In the end, he chalked it up to the humans having such a short lifespan. After all, yours is a species whose brains process everything – emotion, pain, change - at astronomical speeds. In the span of a single day, your opinion of him had apparently undergone a complete about face and he, in turn, is forced to revisit his own opinion of you, and by extent, mankind as a whole. This is the longest, uninterrupted amount of time Death has spent in the company of a human and already, he's beginning to realise that he might not be as well-versed on the species as he originally thought.

A sudden whicker from Despair snaps Death from the moment of quiet intrigue and he glances up, immediately spotting what the horse wanted him to see. Up ahead, the path forks, and hanging from a thick vine on the left trail are several, hanging sigils, swaying gently back and forth in the breeze and clinking together like metallic wind-chimes. He just about holds back a groan. They're a familiar, if unwelcome sight, heralding the presence of one of the most suspect characters he's ever had the displeasure of interacting with. The horseman briefly wonders if you'll even notice them.

Clearing his throat, Death tugs the reins and the horse tosses its head, hooves thudding dully on the soft grass as he starts to slow. “Perhaps we are both more complicated than either of us realised,” he admits distractedly.

“I just thought you deserved to know.”

“Well....I appreciate the sentiment,” he murmurs, adding softly a moment later, “You.... continue to surprise me, you know.”

It's more than that though, and perhaps he's being unfair by not telling you. You're proving him wrong.

Craning your neck around to squint up into the horseman's red-flecked irises, you ask, “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Well,” he grunts, shrugging a pale shoulder, “considering not much surprises me these days....”

Ever so slightly, you perk up, encouraged, even though his way of giving praise is so frustratingly abstruse. “...You know what? I think I'll take that as a compliment....Hey, what's that?”

'Ah, not so unobservant either. Interesting.'

You've raised your hand to point up between Despair's ears at the ominous sigils Death had spotted, staring to the left, up a small grassy trail set apart from the main path. At the very end of it, overlooking the nook you'd just passed, is an intricate, square dais, surrounded by the same symbols that hang and sway from the cliff above it.

Drawing the horse to a complete stop, Death casts a wary glance over them, grumbling under his breath. “What is he doing here?”

“Who?” you start to ask, but he's already sliding onto the ground and trailing his fingers over Despair's neck as he passes, murmuring for the horse to stay put.

“H-hey!” you call, scrabbling to swing your legs over the back of the saddle, “Wait up!” Your descent is far more clumsy and takes twice as long as Death's, all the while you can feel Dust and Despair's eyes on you, both of their heads cocked to one side. Suddenly, just as you drop from the saddle onto the ground, your left boot snags on a jagged scrap of metal sticking out of the stirrup and you're forced to hop around on tiptoes for a moment, trying feverishly to pull yourself free. A loud snort blasts from Despair's nostrils and the crow gives an answering squawk, bobbing his neck up and down several times before you snap, “It's not funny!” to which you receive an obstinate hiss from Dust.

With a sharp tug, your foot finally rips loose and you stumble, tottering for a moment, arms flailing. Just as you begin to teeter backwards though, you feel cold, solid knuckles press into the small of your back and suddenly, you find yourself being nudged safely upright again.

In a flash, you spin around to sheepishly peer up at Death from beneath your lashes, mortified that he'd witnessed your floundering. “Y-you're still here? I thought you went on ahead.”

Shrugging one, massive shoulder, he states, matter-of-factly, “You asked me to wait.”

“I...yeah..But I didn't think you'd actually -” Death blinks at you, long and slow and you stammer to a halt. “- You know what, never mind. Thanks.”

He harrumphs and sweeps a hand out to his side. “Shall we?”

With that, the horseman turns and starts to stalk up the grassy pathway, one hand resting on the hilt of his scythe.

Crossing your arms over yourself, you scuff your boot against the ground and trundle after him in silence. The closer you get to the raised dais, the less your cheeks burn, replaced slowly by a creeping sense of trepidation. Death still hasn't removed his hands from the weapon, a fact that doesn't go unnoticed by you.

“Hey..What's-”

The words die on your tongue because as you get within a few feet of the square plinth, something begins to stir.

A pulse of electricity sucks past your ears and raises the hair on your neck as if someone had stuck a static balloon there and then dragged it up through your hair. Seconds afterwards, you jump as pallid, blue smoke erupts from the centre of the dais, billowing up and spilling outwards along the ground to chill your toes. Inside the column of thick mist, half-obscured, is the vague silhouette of a person.

Cowering back a few steps, you're about to duck behind the safety of Death's bulk when you stop and think. 'Not a coward,' you remind yourself as you set your jaw and puff out your chest, moving to stand beside the horseman instead. All of a sudden, a rasping chuckle slithers out of the smoke and sends a shiver racing down your spine.

Almost as though it's blown by an ethereal wind, the wispy smog finally begins to thin and disperse.

As the outline of the mysterious figure becomes clearer, you're abruptly caught in the stomach by Death's large hand and without warning, he shoves you – none too gently – behind himself. Such a move is disturbing because it dawns on you that whoever this stranger is, Death obviously perceives them as a threat. And seconds later, you understand why.....

The last traces of smoke and mist fall away to reveal a creature that immediately drains the blood from your face.

Enormous, charcoal horns with blunt, tattered ends curve up about a ghastly, barely humanoid face, framed by a hooded headdress of darkest violet and trimmed in golden silk. Gleaming teeth taper into wicked-sharp fangs that jut from its angular jaw, a jaw that stretches into a lecherous smile when a pair of cunning green eyes land on the horseman, growing wider still as its gaze draws down to where you're poking your head out from behind a guarding arm.

It locks you in its sights, holds your attention and you press a hand over your mouth, panic rising like a slow tide from the pit of your stomach, realising – horror stricken – what this thing is.

There's no mistaking those horns, the monstrous claws, the vestigial, fleshy winds sprouting from its shoulder blades and the most depraved grin you've ever seen.

It's a demon. Here, right in front of you. Just like the ones who destroyed your home.

Yet to your surprise, where rage should probably coil and churn in your stomach, there is only the cold, empty ache of fear. Gritting your teeth, you try with all your might to be angry, to let fury override the terror.

But it doesn't.

Shaking limbs and clenched fists betray you and the only thing that comes close to matching the dread is shame. Shame at what you are.

In a throaty, slimy voice that curls your toes, it drawls, “Greetings horseman! And welcome.” Leaning back, it spreads its long, gangling arms as though greeting an old friend and your eyes snap down to see that it has no legs, only a tattered skirt adorned with all manner of scrolls, round, glowing lanterns and a thick harness hanging from its skinny waist. “I've been expecting you.”

Judging from Death's tone, you can hazard a guess that this demon does not fall within his purview of 'friends.'

“Vulgrim. What brings you crawling out of the shadows?” the horseman grumbles, oblivious to the rapid intakes of breath coming from behind him, nor the little fingers that slide around one of the loops in his belt and grip tight.

The demon chuckles, slowly drifting closer, his greedy eyes flickering from you to Death and back again. “I wouldn't want to lose my most valued customer. Not to what lurks at the edge of shadows. So here I am, to offer my wares.”

Quivering muscles tense and bristle as the horseman barks, “What do you know that I don't? I'm not here by choice, demon.”

“I merely followed the trail of carnage. And when I detected the scent of this....” He pauses to waft a hand beneath his nose, doing an eerie impression of someone who's just smelled an especially good meal. “...delectable little morsel-”

Your stomach does a somersault.

“- I simply couldn't stay away!”

Before you have time to react, Vulgrim takes his opportunity to glide closer and leans down, peering at your petrified expression, sunken lips pulling taut over too many teeth. “This one is so....new, so fresh! Only the second time around, I'd wager....Mmm. Maybe third.” He sounds too excited, whatever he's talking about and suddenly, at the demon's threatening proximity, your pulse races into overdrive and you find that your legs are no longer adhered to the ground.

Just as Death opens his mouth to warn the merchant away, you move.

He catches the little blur of motion from the corner of his eye, yet instead of going backwards, as he expected, you lunge forwards clumsily, almost tripping over your own feet whilst you fumble with the sword at your waist.

If the action hadn't been so unexpected, he reckons Vulgrim would never have shot back quite so fast or hold his hands up in surprise when a small, unintimidating blade is promptly shoved under his nose.

“Rargh!” Your shout of anguish comes out garbled and nonsensical, made only more indecipherable by the wobble in your tone. Spine rigid and teeth bared, you manage to grind out, “H-how could you!?”

Shocked at the unexpected display of ferocity, Death softly calls your name and reaches out to touch your elbow but you rip it away from him, trying to steady your shaking arms to keep the sword trained on the equally bewildered demon's head. Again, quieter this time, you croak, “How could you?”

Vulgrim's eyes dart from side to side until they settle on Death, silently asking for clarification.

Meanwhile, the horseman has his hand still held out towards you, fingers suspended as he scrutinises the bungling grip you have on your sword and the unsteadiness in your stance. It doesn't take a genius to discover the reason for this outburst. “Y/n,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his mask's nose-bone, “Put that sword down, before you embarrass yourself further. You're no threat to anyone holding it like that.”

Feeling betrayed, you glance at him over your shoulder and blink the moisture from your eyes. “But! But he's a – a demon!”

“He is,” the horseman agrees, nodding sagely, “A demon merchant, to be precise.”

Perplexed, you gape at him. ‘How can he be so calm!’

“His kind, they – they killed humanity! They destroyed Earth!”

Again, Death nods. “They did.” Then, pointing a rawboned finger at Vulgrim, he adds, “He, however, did not.”

You look back at the demon and blink, noting how his hands are still raised into the air placatingly, a lump moving down his throat as he swallows. He hasn't attacked you when he could. He very easily could with how badly you're poised. Licking your lips, you plant your feet more firmly and give him a wary once-over. “He....he didn't?”

Vulgrim, realising that he's in absolutely no danger whatsoever, releases a sharp cackle and swipes a claw across his forehead, the very picture of melodrama. “My, my! Such spirit! How....unusual...” Tapping his fingertips together, he drags his eyes off the tip of your sword and addresses Death, his tone low and business-like. “Let's make a deal...What do you want for her?”

Your head whips around to look at the horseman so quickly, you almost lose your already questionable balance and the sword swings several inches to the left, now pointing at a spot just above Vulgrim's shoulder. Exasperated, Death heaves out an overworked sigh. He'll have to teach you why turning one's back on a prospective enemy isn't the best idea in the world some other time though, because the demon merchant's hungry gaze has fixed itself on you again while your wide eyes remain locked with Death's, as though you're fully expecting him to just name his price, fork you over and ride off into the sunset with a satchel full of gilt and hands wiped thoroughly clean of responsibility.

In an attempt to hide how tense his shoulders are, he rolls them and regards Vulgrim coolly from beneath heavy-lids. “I don't want anything for her. This particular soul is not for sale.”

“He wants my soul?” you balk, face paling.

Ignoring you, the demon visibly deflates and whines, “Are you sure? I could reward you handsomely.”

“I'm sure.” Death's arms fold across his chest and he tips his chin towards you. “Besides, I highly doubt you can offer me anything of her equivalence.” He must have imagined the tiny, grateful smile on your face because when he looks properly, it vanishes, as if it were never there at all.

In an effort to coax you into lowering your sword, he risks another soft touch to your elbow, this time holding it securely between his thumb and forefinger when you don’t pull away and giving it a gentle tug. “I promise you can put your sword down, Y/n. As malicious and duplicitous as Vulgrim is, he's a scavenger, not a warrior. I don't believe for a second that he was among the demon hordes who marched on Earth.”

“Right you are, horseman!” the demon in question praises, turning to you, “Would you believe I've never actually killed a human?”

Deadpan, both you and Death reply with a firm, “No.”

Undeterred, he places his hands on his chest imploringly. “It's true! Oh, I've collected a soul or two from the dead ones, certainly.” He brings his hands together, forming a cage with his fingers. “After all, one must be dead before a soul can be captured. But killing a human? Bah! Do you know how hazardous an occupation that is?”

“Hazardous?” you scoff, but allow Death’s guiding hand to lower your arms as you realise that, although he shares many of the same features as the demons that destroyed your home, this Vulgrim doesn't seem nearly as murderous as the others. Creepy, yes. But not murderous. “Your kind seemed to have no problem killing mine from where I was standing?”

“Ah. But as your horseman friend rightly put; I am no warrior. And a human can be as deadly an adversary as any creature with its back to a wall.” He glances down at you and your trembling arms. “Present company notwithstanding.”

Squinting up at him suspiciously, you tilt your head to one side and slowly ask, “So...you're not going to steal my soul?”

He seems laughingly appalled by the idea. “And risk losing my best client and my head!? Hell's bells human, I haven't survived this long on brawn alone.”

Suddenly, you feel very sheepish. At last dropping the point of your sword away from Vulgrim's chest and letting it stick into the ground, you let out a shaky exhale. “Right. Sorry. I-...I'm sorry.”

The demon's eyes promptly bulge open, his eyelids fluttering madly as though he's never heard the word 'sorry' before in his life, and certainly not when it's directed at him. “Why...is she apologising?” he asks, addressing Death.

“Because I assumed you were like every other demon and I stuck a sword in your face,” you answer before Death can, “That was kind of high-hat of me. I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

Incredulous, Vulgrim merely gawks at you until, to your right, the horseman snorts, bemused. “Oh, don't apologise. If you were to drop dead right now, he'd snap up your soul before you hit the ground.”

“Alas, once again, his words ring true,” the merchant sighs wistfully, “I have quite the voracious appetite.” Seconds later, he perks up, clapping his oversized hands together and bending down to give you that hungry, predatory stare, his long fingers slowly creeping towards you but stopping short as soon as Death's hand falls pointedly on his scythe. “But, worry not my little morsel– Er, I- I mean, little human.” He finally backs off and floats over to his dais again. “If Death says you're off the menu, then you're off the menu. I'm more interested in building bridges than burning them, after all.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a hard, meaningful stare, “Me too.”

You jump when Death's forearm bumps into you, physically turning your body back in the direction of his horse. “We should be getting on,” he tells you quietly. With a quick nod, you let him push you in front, keeping himself between you and the demon as you retrace your steps back down the path.

“Oh and by the way!” Vulgrim shouts suddenly, his voice lacking any kind of sincerity when he continues, “My condolences for what happened to Earth!” Stopping abruptly, you blink and turn to look back at him over your shoulder. ‘Well..It’s the thought that counts.’

“Yeah!” you call back around Death, “And I’m sorry again about the whole, sword in your face thing!”

It might just have been a trick of the light, or your over-active imagination, but in that moment, the merchant's grin seems less sinister and more bemused than anything.

Cackling, he lifts a hand to wave you off. “My dear, I simply wouldn't call a day successful unless I'd had some manner of sharp object thrust into my peripheral.”

Hesitantly returning his wave, you allow yourself to be guided forwards again by the horseman's impatient grunt. Behind you, Vulgrim begins to sink back into his plinth, calling out before his head disappears, “Oh and horseman, if you or your new friend ever have need of my wares, seek me out.” He watches as your larger companion hoists you into the saddle, pulling himself up afterwards. As the bizarre duo disappear around the corner, Vulgrim’s teeth part into a wide, insidious grin.

“I do so look forward to seeing you both again.”

------

For some time after leaving Vulgrim’s hideaway, Death rides in silence, mulling over your first interaction with a demon since you left Earth. All things considered, it could have gone a lot worse.

“I'm surprised you didn't run him through,” he pipes up conversationally, ignoring the tiny flinch that shakes you from your own musings at the sound of his voice. “In fact, I'm almost sad you didn't.”

Furrowing your brow, you reply, “Then why'd you stop me?”

“Ha! Besides the fact I didn’t think you’d ever be able to with the way you held that sword?... Because he hasn't really done anything to warrant us killing him. Not yet, at least. And his wares are – to an extent – somewhat useful.”

Finally, after winding your way through what seemed like the ceaseless, high-walled passage, the cliffs finally come to an abrupt end and you’re suddenly greeted by soft sunlight filtering through a luscious canopy of green and golden tree leaves.

Up ahead stretches a vast, spacious wood. Several ruined structures are dotted between the trees, vestiges of the maker civilisation lost to the corruption that ploughed through their land like a dark tidal wave, leaving a sort of kenopsia in its wake. Casting a sad smile at the twisting roots and leaves fluttering gently to the ground, you pump out a longing sigh. “This place is so beautiful...”

Behind you, the horseman has already spotted several threats, all skulking about between the shadows of the trees. “Hm. Don’t be fooled. There are far worse things out here than demon merchants.” As if on cue, something big roars loudly, making its presence known and from behind a thick trunk, something huge and bulky steps into view.

Just like that, your wanderlust dies and you shrink back involuntarily underneath Death’s bristling chest. He spares you a cursory glance as he unsheathes his scythes, feeling Despair quiver in anticipation, ears pricked sharply forwards. Flapping off the saddle horn, Dust shoots into the sky with a resounding caw. “Hold on tightly,” Death murmurs, “Keep your head low and don’t let go of that saddle.” He reaches around with one hand hand grabs yours, moving them down until your fingers latch reflexively around the metal pommel. “It seems getting to the Cauldron won’t be a simple ride after all. Are you ready?”

“Not in the least.”

“Good,” he smirks, urging Despair into a hard canter, “No warrior worth their salt is ever ready for their first few tastes of real battle.”

Thundering along through the leaf-strewn woods, Despair releases a squeal of excitement and charges into a breakneck gallop, the equally fearsome rider poised and ready to swing his deadly scythes as they fly towards their first destination; The Cauldron.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #cold hands warm heart #death #death x reader #vulgrim #death is weird

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mazecraft · 6 years

Text

Rachel in the Dark Room Ep 7

Warning:

Spoilers for Life is Strange and Life is Strange: Before the Storm.

Trigger Warning:

This fanfic will have disturbing images, including scenes of kidnapping, date rape, drug use, violence, sexual content and adult language. Recommended for mature audiences and viewer discretion is advised.

Previously: Upon the revelation of her death, Rachel has found herself in the presence of three women that are strange, exotic, and sometimes a little frightening. The women seem to be the animas of a raven, a doe, and a butterfly. As for Rachel, she is still in the clothes that she was wearing when she died, and she still feels like she has a body, though she doesn’t seem to feel physical needs like sleep, water or food. The three women have been guiding Rachel to understand what happened to her since she died with her consciousness in such a confused and chaotic state. But they have just now finished showing her what has become of some of the people that were a part of her life since her death. In so doing, Rachel has also begun to see energy fields of light around living things. The last thing she saw was some sort of disease in the energy of Nathan Prescott, and the total absence of any light around Mark Jefferson, the men that were responsible for her torture and death…

Raven stood suddenly and wrapped her feathered cloak about her. “You draw her too close to the enemy!” she scolded. She circled the hourglass placed between them with its eerie golden light moving toward Doe and Rachel. She had begun to think of them in her head as “the witches” in homage to Macbeth. But they were otherworldly and strange even beyond anything she could have imagined. Raven’s wild black hair and piercing yellow eyes were wraith-like. But she could see a sphere of light around each of them now that she knew what to look for. Raven’s light was almost white, tinged around the edges with blue. The fibers of light glistened around her and seemed to move with her, or maybe, the fibers are what moved her? Raven pointed at Doe and Butterfly in turn but spoke directly to Rachel. “Do not let the parasite see you. Your attention will draw it to you! It is a predator that devours. It hunts in dreams and moments of shock and vulnerability.”

“I am not a novice, sister,” Doe said politely. “We were cloaked by a reality mirror.” The light around her seemed to flow quickly like fiber optics in a way that Rachel thought looked like mild annoyance or irritation. She looked to Rachel. Somehow Rachel understood the meaning in the look she was getting from Doe. Her big black eyes with rich brown irises full of compassion seemed to be searching Rachel’s face for her reaction to what she had seen so far. Rachel found herself reflecting on the various people that had been part of her life and thought she could see what the witches meant by trajectory now.

“Raven told me that our inner truth is in what we feel, not what we think. I find myself feeling…acceptance? I can’t say I am happy about my parents, or how other people are reacting to my disappearance. But I think I understand it. I only wish that someone would find out about what happened to me so that no one else will get hurt,” Rachel paused. “What did you mean when you said ‘the enemy?’ What is Jefferson, really?”

“Jefferson has allowed himself to become an avatar of darkness,” Doe said. “In a way, he is the willing victim of it. What we call ‘the enemy’ is a parasite that feeds off of light and life. It is an ancient and destructive force. Wherever there is immense pain and grief, a fissure is created in all beings of light that allows lifeforce to seep from them like water from a cracked gourd. The greater the pain, the greater the loss. The parasite uses acolytes of those it has wounded and fed from to go into your world and cause more horror. Jefferson is one such creature. The parasite has latched itself to his mind and become his surrogate thoughts, until Jefferson believes the imposter’s voice is his own.”

“So…how do we stop it?” Rachel asked.

Raven cackled and sat back down next to Rachel and surprisingly, gave her a hug. Her thin arms and talon like fingers felt weightless across Rachel’s shoulders. Doe just looked down at the ground with a sad expression on her face. Butterfly stared at the glowing hourglass with the spiral embossed in the top just in front of her and spoke in her resonant voice. “The parasite is ingrained in the fabric of the universe. As well ask how you stop galaxies from spinning and stars from burning. We call the parasite our enemy, but it is also a necessary evil. It creates the backdrop upon which goodness and love can be set apart. Really, it is only a parasite when it is allowed to run amok unchecked, as has happened many times in your world’s history. Then it becomes a true threat.”

“Dreamers are most at risk from the abuses of the parasite, and will suffer the most,” said Raven matter-of-factly. “And are most at risk of becoming monsters under its tutelage.”

“This is a lot to take in,” said Rachel feeling confused. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Where is Chloe in all of this?” Doe looked up worried and Raven shook her head in warning against the other two. Raven stood up and moved away from the circle, signaling she would have nothing to do with their decision. Butterfly’s lips tightened at the vacillation of her sisters. She stood and floated up into the air transforming into a vibrant blue butterfly and floated toward Rachel floating about her head.

“Enough coddling and dragging of feet,” Butterfly’s voice seemed like it was inside Rachel’s head, reverberating tightly like a swarm of bees inside a tin can. Butterfly landed on Rachel’s forehead and she could feel it moving in a spiral much faster than Doe had gone. Images and emotions flooded Rachel’s mind in a torrent, like standing under a waterfall, causing her to gasp. Her back arched and her arms stiffened behind her as her head tilted up toward the sky. Rachel’s eyes filled with light as the barrage of events swarmed through her.

∞

Chloe stood in the driveway watching her mom and step-douche drive away. Her mother, Joyce, had rushed by her with barely a hello while the step-dildo ordered her to move her truck out of the driveway so they could get his car out of the garage. Joyce had come down the stairs still slipping her pumps on with her purse dragging her arm down at the crook of her elbow, while Chloe was trying to explain that she had printed some missing person posters for the Two Whales Diner. She may as well have been telling her she was going to get knocked up and do cocaine with the principal of Blackwell at the next assembly. Joyce just said “Alright Chloe that’s fine. We’re running late. You need to move your truck out of the driveway and once we’re gone you can go back to sleep if you want.” Joyce had rushed out the door without even looking at the posters Chloe was trying to hand to her. Even her mom didn’t have time or a shit to give about her anymore. Not since her dad died and Max moved away had she felt like she needed her mom more, and never had she felt as blown off by her.

Chloe did go back up to her room and sat on the edge of her bed. She held one of Rachel’s shirts and pulled it up to her face, breathing in the faint scent of jasmine, and a fragrance that was uniquely Rachel. How long until that fragrance would fade completely? Tears welled up in her eyes, and her throat felt tight. She had the sinking feeling that when the fragrance was gone, her chances of ever finding Rachel would be gone too. Where was she? She had streamed a documentary on her computer the other day about sex-trafficking in America and had been horrified at the possibility that Rachel could have been kidnapped by some gangsters and sold into slavery somewhere. Somebody in this shithole knew something and she was not going to give up until she found her.

She reached down to the worn-out hardwood floor and pulled a half-smoked joint out of the ash tray, relighting it. She used her remote to turn on the stereo and started looking through her pictures of Rachel. She had another box with pictures of her Dad and Max, but she refused to put Rachel in that box. Dad was gone forever, and clearly Max was too. Her dad was gone because he was dead and Max had just ghosted on her for the last five years. Rachel wasn’t either of those things. She couldn’t be dead, and she wouldn’t have just left without her. It wasn’t possible because Rach was the only person Chloe really had, and she loved her. Rachel was somewhere out there, Chloe could feel it. And she needed Chloe to find her. If she was certain of nothing else, she was certain of that. Not even a Balrog or Cthulu would stop her. For some reason, the thought felt like a déjà vu.

∞

“‘Don’t miss out on the fun! Join the Vortex Club at the AMBER ALERT Party! Don’t GO MISSING the last party of the school year!’ Thursday, June 13th at the Blackwell Gym!”

Chloe stared at the poster outside the Blackwell Gymnasium with loathing and disgust. The fuckers had put the AMBER ALERT over the Vortex Club logo and added a hand-drawn blue feather along the side. Chloe’s heart hurt and a lump formed in her throat. Her blood boiled with anger and her mind reeled at the absolute fuckery it would take to come up with such a shitty and callous theme for a party! Chloe had already learned firsthand how foul these Blackwell elites were toward the scholarship kids or anyone that didn’t have trust fund parachutes strapped to their backs. But Rachel had been one of their kind, had been someone that they called a friend. Chloe never really understood why Rachel dug being around them. Rachel had never been anything but awesome to them. and now they turned her disappearance into a party! If she could see what they were doing now in her name she would probably burn the whole fucking town down! Chloe wanted to do it for her. The plexiglass covering the bulletin board in front of her cracked as Chloe split her knuckles punching it over and over again. “You motherfuckers!” she sobbed. She didn’t stop punching until her blood was visible in the cracks in front of the poster and her hand was swollen.

∞

A few desperate weeks later, Chloe drove her old beat up truck through the parking lot outside The Mook, a local dive bar that was putting on an all-ages show behind the building. There was a full-on tailgate party going on in the lot, and Chloe could hear one of the opening bands shredding already. Multi-colored lights lit up the back of the building enclosed by a tall wooden fence. The lot was full even after she circled it twice! Chloe ended up parking down the street in an abandoned lot. There were a few other concert goers that had the same idea walking back toward the bar with her. She knew she should have gotten there earlier. Now she was going to have to carry her box of posters the whole way! Damn it! Why can’t The Mook get a bigger parking lot or something! Hoisting the box on to her slender shoulder, Chloe pulled out a cigarette and lit it with one hand, balancing the box with the other, and started walking back toward the venue. Some of the metal kids walking in pace with her looked curiously at her but no one said anything.

It took her about twenty minutes to drop posters on all the windshields in the parking lot and then she carried the box up to the gate at the side of the bar where the underage kids were lined up to get into the show. She showed her ID and let the security guards search her box before letting her wander into the venue. Some band she didn’t know was butchering The Beautiful People on the stage through speakers that distorted everything and sounded like shit. There were merch tables set up along the side of the fence selling shirts and CDs. The second table had a Pisshead banner behind it and their front man Skip Matthews was there selling his shit. Chloe walked up to the table and set her box down on the edge. Skip looked over and his face lit up when he recognized her. He was wearing a loose neon green tank top exposing his tattooed arms, and black ripped up jeans. His face was covered in sweat and his messy mop of hair was matted and sticking to his head. Even his short uneven beard was soaked.

“Chloe!” Skip said coming around the table to give her a hug. He smelled of hard alcohol and sweat, mixed with patchouli. “I’m glad you made it! Did you get to see us play?”

“Fuck I totally missed it man. I just got here! My step-douche had me tied up with another one of his lectures and then parking was hella lame!” Chloe had to yell to be heard over the band.

“Aw man that sucks! We just finished up a few minutes ago. Well I hope you are sticking around for a while. Agalloch is headlining. I’m stoked we got on the same bill with them! Do you want a shirt or a CD? It’s on me, sistah!”

“Hell yes!” Chloe said. “But I need to ask a favor!”

“You want to star in my first music video? You got it!” Skip teased.

“No I…wait…um, that would be cool…” Chloe paused. “But no. I was wondering if I could leave these posters on your merch table?” She handed him one so he could see it. Skip’s face sobered up as he looked at the Missing Person poster and he nodded.

“Fuck, Chloe I’m sorry I didn’t even know about this.” He shook his head sadly. “Seriously, what the fuck man? Its always the good ones!” He pulled the remaining posters out of the box and set them at the front of his table and put the box underneath. “Hey if there is anything else I can do promise to let me know, Ok?”

“You got it Skip!” Chloe said.

∞

Chloe was in a 24 hr copy and print shop. The harsh fluorescent light made her blue hair shine vibrantly under her dark navy beanie. She was sitting on a counter with her boots resting on the plastic chair in front of her. She was wearing ripped up jeans and small black denim jacket. She was looking through her phone at pictures of her and Rachel waiting for her print order to finish. The asswipe clerk with the pockmarked face had charged her almost double because she said she would wait. Well, fuck him. What was he going to do if not work on her order? He probably gets paid to watch porn most nights anyway. One night of actual work wouldn’t kill the bastard.

Rachel probably would have told her to just go home and pick them up in the morning. Well she wasn’t here right now, which is why Chloe was. She stared at the pictures on her phone of Rachel taken last year. Rachel was sitting at Chloe’s desk half-turned to look at the camera, at Chloe. Her chin rested on her fingers curled over the back of the chair. Her hazel eyes giving Chloe a sultry thoughtful look.

“You know if you get your GED you could go to college in LA.” Rachel had said to her. The memory echoed in Rachel’s and Chloe’s minds together. “There have to be dozens of great art schools there. And I think I know someone that would be a fantastic model for your brand.”

Chloe swiped to the next picture. A selfie of her and Rachel in the truck outside the junkyard. That was the day they had driven half way to Newport taking pictures at the beach on Rachel’s phone. Fuck, Chloe wished she had those pictures too. She had given Rachel a piggy-back ride from the beach back to the truck and they had made out with the sound of breaking waves and the occasional car passing on the highway. Chloe’s eyes got heavy as she sat looking at the pictures and reminiscing.

Rachel became aware of herself watching Chloe, which hadn’t happened in the visions she had with the others she had been shown. Before she had just been an observer without any awareness of herself or any thoughts until after the fact. Another difference she saw right away was the light around Chloe was brighter and more vivid than any of the other people she had observed, even under the fluorescent lighting. She watched Chloe dozing and catch herself before scooting down to the chair so she could rest her head on the formica counter. All around Chloe though, Rachel became aware of a darkness that pushed against the light boundary around her. It writhed and teased at the boundary, looking for a place that it could seep in and touch her. She wasn’t sure how but Rachel knew if that darkness ever touched Chloe’s skin she would be lost forever.

Chloe’s breathing was measured and deep and the light aura around her expanded and then returned to normal with every inhale and exhale. In the pause of Chloe’s exhale before she drew breath again the darkness pushed the hardest, a frenzied panicked movement of darkened spikes that tried to break the light barrier. Rachel was glad the light held it back but also felt anxiety watching the battle rage on while Chloe slept completely oblivious. Rachel felt herself moving toward Chloe trying to reach her…somehow. She found that she could look as close as she wanted, seeing Chloe’s face as close as if she were sleeping right next to her. She could see the soft curve of her lips, her closed eyelids slightly smudged by eyeliner, the only makeup she could ever get Chloe to wear consistently. Her blue hair sticking out from under her beanie resting against her temples. But when she tried to touch her face, she felt her hand touch an invisible wall.

Chloe sat up abruptly, her eyes opening. “Rach?” she said looking around quickly. But the shop was empty and quiet. Chloe was so sure she had felt Rachel there with her, like something seen out of the corner of your eye or a word on the tip of the tongue. Fuck, she was tired. It had already been a long day and she just wanted to get high and go to sleep. Fortunately, the pockmarked clerk was emerging from the back room with another box of posters for her. About damn time! She had another long day ahead of her tomorrow. She wondered if it would be weird to have Frank distribute them among his customers? Chloe still owed him a shitload of money, but dude had a heart even if he tried to hide it behind a wall of silence and growls. He knew Rachel so maybe that would make a difference? She decided she would text him in the morning as she drove home.

∞

Chloe parked next to Frank’s RV in the beach parking lot. She found Frank sitting on the other side in a fold out lawn chair under his extended awning drinking a beer. Pompidou laid curled up at his feet. As she rounded the corner she heard an old Morphine song on his stereo competing with the sound of the waves. He saw her approaching and put his hands up as if he were seeing a miracle in a Renaissance painting.

“Well look who it fucking is!” Frank exclaimed. He was wearing a simple t-shirt and filthy worn out jeans. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

“How could I avoid Frank Bowers in a town this small?” Chloe said. “Half the people I know are buying weed off you, and the other half work for you.” Chloe reached down to pet Pompidou, but the dog growled and looked for Frank’s nod before letting her. Damn, he had the beast trained well! “So, are you gonna offer me a beer or watch me die of thirst over here?”

“Don’t push your luck, Price,” Frank leaned forward and pointed at her. “The only reason my dog isn’t ripping your fucking throat out right now is because I am hoping you have a payment for me.”

“I wish I had any luck left to push, Frank. Listen I know I still owe you, and I am working on it. But I gotta ask you for a favor,” Chloe tried to keep her face from cringing cause she knew he was going to get pissed. He always did but he usually came around eventually. She just had to walk eggshells for a few minutes.

“You’re kidding me,” Frank said standing up. “You’re goddamned right you’re out of luck. I fronted you over three grand months ago which was supposed to come back with interest. I don’t owe you any favors. Shit I’ve done more favors for you than my own family. You owe me, bitch! Now get the fuck out of here and find my money.”

“Frank, you’ll get your money. But what I need to find is Rachel. She’s missing and the pigs are giving up. I know something happened to her.” Chloe pulled out a folded-up poster out of the back of her pocket and handed it to him. He took it and looked at it carefully. All his anger seemed to fade as he concentrated on it, with Rachel’s picture, and descriptions of her tattoos. Chloe was almost about to ask him if he needed help reading it when he finally folded it up and handed it back to her. He wasn’t saying anything and he was quiet. Chloe could never tell if that was a good or a bad thing with him. “The only favor is that you pass these around your other customers and friends…if you have any? Please. I think she’s in trouble, Frank! You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t hella important!”

“You’re wasting your time,” Frank’s voice cracked. “She probably got sick of your bullshit and got the fuck out of this hellhole. I know I’m sick of your shit. You need to stop coming to me with your fucking problems and trying to make them mine. I’m not your friend, Chloe! And I don’t want to see you here again unless you have a thick wad of cash in your hand. Now get the fuck out of my sight!” Frank opened up his RV door and followed his dog inside before slamming the door behind him.

Chloe stood there in muted shock for a few moments before stalking back to her truck and pulling the door shut angrily. She couldn’t believe that just happened. Frank was always a dick, but he had never been that mean to her before. After everything they had been through together? Yes, she owed him money but why would he refuse to help her find a missing friend? What was so hard about passing around pieces of paper? He knew Rachel too! Maybe not as well as he knew Chloe, but they had hung out a few times. How could he be so fucking heartless? She started up the truck and revved the engine loudly. “Fuck you, Frank!” she shouted at his RV before peeling out and driving off.

Rachel felt herself crying in anger and grief. Oh Chloe! It was Rachel’s fault that she owed Frank in the first place, and it was her fault that Frank was being an asshole to her, even if she didn’t understand why. Rachel felt the full weight of her mistakes weighing heavily upon her heart. Rachel’s tears seemed to slide down the invisible barrier between them like rain upon a window. Chloe’s feelings of betrayal and frustration as she drove home echoed Rachel’s own feelings as she watched the darkness around Chloe swarm in agitation trying to reach her.

∞

Chloe knew she didn’t belong in this room. The past several hours had been spent way outside of her comfort zone. But it was gonna be hella worth it if she could put up with it a little longer. The posh black leather couch and queen size bed crowded the space and made it even more claustrophobic than the closed blinds and oppressive artwork. Black and white bondage pictures adorned the walls and an overhead projector cast a slideshow of photographs on the wall behind her head. Chloe wasn’t about to crane her neck to stare at boring black and white photos of buildings, close ups of grass, or whatever else Nathan thought looked edgy and artistic. It was a strange turn of events that brought her to this somber room.

The summer had passed with no luck or leads until Skip Matthews had sent her a message telling her a Pisshead fan saw her poster and said he’d seen Rachel at some bar near the waterfront on the southside of town last spring, opposite the train tracks from The Mook. Said he would remember her face anywhere cause she was so hot, and clearly sharking the bastard playing pool with her. Rachel, Chloe thought, what were you getting yourself into? Chloe had gone down there with more posters to see if anyone else would recognize her and the bouncers didn’t even card her. So, she walked right in and put up a few posters near the restrooms and then made her way to the bar. She’d figured she might as well have a few drinks while she was at it since they had let her in. Plus, she could ask the bartender about Rachel.

It was after she turned away from the bar with a bottle of local brew that she had seen Nathan sitting over at a table with a bunch of Vortex Club alumni. He was totally wasted and kept pulling wads of cash out to pay for drinks and tip the cocktail waitress with the plastic smile and booty shorts. All that cash going to waste seemed like such a shame when Chloe could use it to pay off Frank or even better, get the hell out of town once she found Rachel! Luckily Chloe had gotten good at practicing improv games with Rachel and it hadn’t taken long to crash Nathan’s party and convince him to let her take him back to his dorm room at Blackwell.

So here she was, sitting on his couch listening to his crude jokes and deftly avoiding his drunken attempts to seduce her. Her ripped up jeans and black denim jacket felt like armor against the expensive and cold mood of the room. She held her beer in both hands in her lap, with her legs crossed in front of her at the ankles as Nathan showed off his expensive camera and talked about how he was going to be famous like his photography teacher one day. She eyed his coat which he had tossed on the edge of the bed. The rolled-up wad of cash stuck out of his coat pocket and she was just waiting for him to pass out. The way he was stumbling around and slurring, she thought it was only a matter of time now. She hoped so, anyway. She wasn’t sure how much longer she was going to last herself. She’d only had 2 beers at the party and was nursing the one Nathan had given her, but she was feeling woozy and a little nauseous from listening to his crap.

“NO!” Rachel cried out. She moved closer to Chloe and tried to reach her again. She felt herself push up against the invisible wall and slammed her fists against it desperately. Chloe’s light was flickering weakly and the darkness was swarming around her pushing against it every bit as hard as Rachel was clawing at the invisible wall. Distantly she could hear the witches arguing but she couldn’t focus on what they were saying. Somehow, she had to stop this. She couldn’t let Chloe end up in the Dark Room!

Chloe slumped down off the couch, barely feeling herself fall to the floor. Nathan was slurring, but still on his feet and pacing the room. He stood over her and took a picture of her curled up on the floor. “You think I didn’t see the contempt in your face, whore? I grew up staring contempt in the face every day!” Nathan spat at her. He opened a prescription bottle and swallowed a pill with a swig of beer. “I’ll show your punk ass contempt. Do you really think I don’t know who you are, bitch? Your just another skank ho!” Nathan pulled her body over to the space next to his bed and tried a few different poses before deciding on one that he liked. He pulled one of her legs straight and bent the other one at the knee, letting it fall sideways exposing her crotch. He draped her right arm across her face, so that the crook of her elbow rested across the bridge of her nose. He got down on the floor trying to get an angle that maximized the depth of field and highlighted her helplessness.

Rachel was crying and screaming as she punched at the invisible barrier. She could see Chloe’s light was on the brink of collapse. Chloe’s light. She needed to protect her light more than anything. Her scream faded away as an idea crossed her mind. Tears still streaming down her face, Rachel saw her own light spring to life all around her. The fibers of light within the aura around her were vibrant and pulsing with some kind of power. She could still hear the witches arguing and something Raven said caught her attention. “To not touch the world of the living is what it means to die.” Fuck that, thought Rachel. She put her hand up to the barrier and focused on the strands of pulsating light all around her and pushed with her willpower against the barrier, intending that her light reach Chloe.

The barrier changed from feeling like a solid wall to something like a wall of sound. One that she couldn’t hear, but could feel, like an itch in the palm of her hand. Rachel wasn’t sure how, but she matched the vibration of the barrier, becoming the same sound, and slipped through the vibration. It felt like she was moving through water; and was herself water. She felt like she was moving with agonizing slowness as she struggled to extend her filaments of light toward Chloe with an outstretched hand. Nathan was crawling toward her grinning darkly as Rachel’s lines of light touched Chloe’s and…intertwined with them. Chloe’s eyes shot open and Rachel felt Chloe’s energy, so familiar, so warm and full of love! Chloe’s own light suddenly burst to life filling the room brightly in Rachel’s vision sending the darkness into retreat.

Chloe saw Nathan with a look of shock on his face as she scrambled to get away from him. He grabbed at her legs and reached for her jacket and she kicked at him, but kicked his nightstand instead knocking over his bedside lamp in the process. The lamp hit Nathan in the head as it fell and he stopped grabbing her to hold his head, screaming at her and calling her a fucking bitch. She felt so weak, but she was able to stand and grab at the door handle as Nathan got to his feet. But it was too late. She was out the door and running down the hall toward the dormitory exit.

(To be continued…)

#life is strange #life is strange before the storm #rachel amber #chloe price #frank bowers #nathan prescott #pisshead #mysticism #dreams

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gothicmagpie · 6 years

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Vampire Hunter D: The Northern Castle, part 5

Author’s notes: This piece of fan fiction is written for @vampires-and-dhampirs‘s VHDweek celebration. One section will be posted each day, and the final work will be posted to AO3, if you prefer not to read it serially. Readers should be aware that this work contains violence and cursing, equivalent to a PG-13 film. This work is primarily based on the version of the VHD ‘verse as seen in Kikuchi’s novels. Part 1 can be found here: X

"Well, this one of your crazier ideas," a hoarse voice muttered at D's side as he cantered towards a well-hidden castle beneath technologically-enhanced rock. Anyone who knew his usual appearance as a rough, black-clad drifter would have hardly recognized him when he left the shack beside the waterwheel. Hair braided back revealed the inhumanity of his pale features in full-force, the ragged black coat had been swapped for a velvet one in a shade of blue so deep that it was only a hint brighter than the previous garment, and the rest of his faded garb had been replaced with silk that gleamed and reflected the traces of moonlight despite the numerous, well-constructed patches that demonstrated that these clothes had been worn by plenty of previous owners. Even his scuffed boots had been shined and what had once been a fine scarf had become decorative wraps, hiding the spurs under gauzy trails.

His sword still rested on his back, but his weapon belt was strapped to the saddle rather than his waist. He certainly didn't look like a Hunter at the moment. The sound of his mounts hoofbeats changed, and the traces of an old Noble road peered through centuries of dirt.

He reined his horse in, slowing the pace to a pace that any normal cyborg horse still would have struggled to maintain for this long ride. He studied the passing trees and the occasional rusted ruin of some old roadside tech. The road slowly improved, until the full path was a visible expanse of the self-maintaining surface. He hadn't ridden on this long before there was a loud beep and D's horse shied. The Hunter was thrown against his mount's neck and seized a handful of mane as the horse pranced sideways, kicking out and shaking his head, hoofs clipping sharply against the hard plastic road. When D urged the horse forward again, it snorted and moved only a few steps.

D looked up and out into the woods, eyes blazing red this time as he searched for whatever had frightened the horse so much. This time he sensed something too, a tingling trace of some kind of electric field. One could only imagine how uncomfortable that must have been for the cyborg horse, as it travelled through all its metal circuitry and augmented organs. D bushed a finger across his blue pendent, re-activating it. It immediately lit up, spreading a soft blue glow over the scene. The horse relaxed and happily trotted forwards, resuming their journey.

D didn't spur it to a faster pace though, and if his eyes no longer blazed, they still held a gleam of unnatural light. Apparently he had decided to proceed more cautiously.

There seemed to be good reason for that, as half an hour later an ornate gate suddenly loomed out of the darkness, blocking his path. He squinted at it, a hint of irritation creasing his elegant features. How had he not seen it as he approached? It had no apparent latch, yet even when he pressed it with his super-human strength, the door did not open. He spied a control panel on one side, corroded like the metal of the gate, yet the cracked screen still glowed with a faint light it would take a Noble's eyes to detect. Dismounting, D examined it. "Handprint activated, I think," he murmured. "Anything we can do about that?"

"Try your credentials first," suggested the face peering from his left palm. "If that fails, see if we can find an override. That'll attract attention though, and probably put a hole in your plan. You'll meet Vasmer as a know enemy."

D reached his right hand over the screen, and pressed it down firmly. "Reading. Please wait," said a calming female voice from the almost invisible speakers. "Welcome to the Northern Castle of Lord Vasmer. Please leave your transport in the garage to the right. It will be attended to. Upon entering, please proceed directly to the entrance hall. You will be greeted there."

Whatever garage may have been in place once, it was no longer standing, so D waited until the door unlocked, and lead his horse inside behind him. There was an odd feeling as he crossed the threshold and the cyborg mount balked for a second. "What was that?" D asked in the softest possible whisper.

"A dimensional shift, I suspect. No wonder no human ever found this place; it isn't quite here. It was probably pushed even further into an alternate reality until he awoke. Nice escape planning on his part. I wonder if the tech is OSB?"

"I doubt we'll have a chance to examine it." D had tethered his horse to a stout tree, and now peered towards the castle that half-stood, slumped in the rock that formed its foundation. It had seen much better days, and some of the slag-like rock suggested that even if the humans hadn't been able to identify the exact location, high-powered explosives had done some damage. The other option, that the melting has been the work of the multi-dimensional beings the Nobility had warred with, was significantly less encouraging.

The castle had a high, worn flight of spiral stairs to the door, which was several stories up. As soon as D's boot touched the bottom step, there was a faint whir of machinery, the stairs lit with a faint luminescence, and D could feel that the gravity-reduction system had survived the centuries. With that aid, even a frail human could reach the door without being winded.

As his feet left the stairs, they dimmed and the doors opened automatically. Here was another sign of the castle's neglect, as they swung unevenly, the left door repeatedly sticking with an unhappy groan. The entrance hall was shabby; rotted traces of rugs over the dusty floor, wall hangings slumped, a broken table lay in a tangle of mutual annihilation with the vast painting that had apparently fallen onto it, and there was shattered glass everywhere from the lamps that had once lit the space. Now it was dim enough that even D squinted.

He stood in silence for only a moment before he heard a faint rattle that no human's ears would have detected. He turned to face one doorway just as the door swung open, emitting a ray of bright light and a handsome figure. Lord Vasmer was the picture of Nobility before their fall. His waist-length hair was caught back by glittering gems that matched the rings around his thin, pale fingers and the jewel-encrusted toes of his velvet shoes. His outfit was a blaze of red that matched the shine of his eyes and a deep black that nearly seemed to absorb that light, a spectacular display for his white-blond hair and paper-white skin. He spotted D and smiled, lips parting to reveal fangs that flashed across his currently-pale lips. "Ah! What an unexpected surprise to see you at my gate! I'd not thought my awaking enough to attract the attention of our most esteemed Ancestor. Please, be welcomed." He swept forward with a grace that only the true-born nobility could hope to match. "Ah, you carry his stamp so clearly. Not the usual bastard, are you?" His fingers trailed through D's dark locks. D stood like stone and did not answer the question. "Come with me, let us find somewhere more comfortable to sit, and you can tell me why you are here."

"Are there areas less damaged?" D's voice was steely.

"Of course, I couldn't very well live here if it all looked like that. Good for keeping away the pests though. I'm very sad to see their bombs penetrated my shielding. Those turrets took decade to build, and melted rock is all but unusable. Eventually I'll track down those fools who did it. Then we'll see who grieves." A small, wicked flush rose in his cheeks as he spoke.

"Do you even know when the damage was done? You slept for a long time. They and all their relations may be gone." D's quelling tone apparently ended the conversation. They rode the elevator car to Vasmer's dwelling place in silence.

The room the elevator opened to was lush and well-cared for by a robotic maid, which lurched forward to take Vasmer's cape. D declined to part with his coat, but Vasmer insisted that he give the robot his sword. D did so without argument, and wandered over to a vast panel of computers, half-hidden by a red and silver drape embroidered with flowers, which repeated throughout the decor. The screens appeared to show a vast network of surveillance machines across the Frontier sector, and a great deal of tech that was still active. D had only looked it over for a moment before the screens went suddenly dark. Vasmer had flipped a switch at one end, and was staring sternly at D. "I hope you aren't here merely to spy. If he wants to know what I do, then he will have to come himself. I won't tolerate insubordination from the likes of you, no matter how much alike you look."

"I'm not here to spy, I promise you that. But I do have questions about your actions recently. You have been preying on the travelers in this sector. Why? Surely in this mecca of technology, you have a blood synthesizer."

Lord Vasmer laughed. "That's why you were sent here? A poaching concern? My apologies, I never intended to hunt territory held by your family. I had noticed the mark on one of the men, but it was faint enough I had assumed it was no longer valid. Now that I meet you, it did carry a trace of your power. And I haven't seen any other Nobles on my scanners, although I suppose they are a bit antiquated now." He sat, beckoning D towards the seat across from him. "Let us sit down, have a drink, and we shall settle the new boundaries of this land. I've been out of this world for a while, and clearly if your family has need of this land, we can find a way to share."

"You've been out of the world for much longer than you think, Lord Vasmer. The world has changed in ways you can hardly comprehend." There was something melancholy in D's tone as he stared at the dark screens in front of him.

"Then it is good I had a young, vital messenger bringing me that news, is it not? Come, tell me about these grim changes. If you continue to resist my hospitality, I am liable to take offense, and I hardly think that was the task your father sent you on."

"No, but his tasks and my responses have not always been in step." D turned away from the computers and made a circuit of the room, finally taking a single anemone bloom from the vase above the crackling fireplace and accepting the glass of red liquid Lord Vasmer held out.

Vasmer laughed again. "A bit of a rebel, eh? Well, I won't tell if you won't. So, tell me about these changes. The reasons you think I have an imperfect understanding of the local politics."

"How long have you slept, Lord Vasmer?" D didn't sit, but leaned against the table, staring down at the amused Noble.

"For a very long time. Centuries, at least. Perhaps a few millennia. The technology I had relied on was faulty. It failed to take into account the differences in time on either side of my dimensional barrier."

"Then you missed a rather important point; the fall of the Nobility happened while you slumbered."

Vasmer again laughed, but then stopped, eying D. "Sure you don't think me as gullible as that. Who are we supposed to have fallen to? The OSB were in retreat when last I heard from the Capital."

"Which was, as you pointed out, a long time ago. But no, the victors were the humans. They rule this earth once again."

"Impossible! They were our slaves, our playthings, far too weak to fight us, and too grateful for our protection to try."

"Can you truly not imagine how they felt? Why their fury might overthrow even so mighty a civilization?"

"They never would have succeeded."

"Perhaps not, if the Nobility were actually as prefect as many claimed. But the Nobility's power came with its own weaknesses too. Who can explain those? A genetic flaw? Or merely the universe's sense of humor."

"I don't believe you. You are one of his sons, that much is obvious, and I can't imagine he would allow that to happen, even with his weakness for certain aspects of humanity. Prove it to me."

D leaned forwards, extending the flower he had plucked from the vase. In one smooth motion, he tucked it into Vasmer's pocket, curled a finger under his cuff to touch a hidden trigger, and a blade sprung from hiding at his wrist, sinking into Vasmer's throat.

With a choking cry, Vasmer shoving himself backward, tipping his chair and thrusting a jeweled fist at D. D blocked the blow, letting Vasmer pull himself free of the knife, then dove for him again. Vasmer twisted, attempting to get to his feet before D could strike, but failed. D's second blow was to his chest, puncturing a lung, but missing the heart. Vasmer's throat had healed enough for him to scream, and his long, claw-like nails raked at D's face, drawing blood as they grappled. D dodged wildly snapping fangs and flailing fists, diverting them just enough to avoid real injury until he thrust his knife into the base of Vasmer's skull.

His opponent dropped, spinal cord severed. It wouldn't be a fatal blow for a Noble of his strength, but he also couldn't heal it until the blade was removed. Without a need to breathe, Vasmer could survive in this state for quite a while.

D lifted the near-corpse to the chair, righted with a swift kick. He crouched in front of the immobile Noble and stared into his face with eyes that glowed as brightly as the full vampire before him. "You tortured and killed humans, not only for your sustenance, but for sport. The last man you slowly slaughtered was a friend of mine. By rights, I should return the favor."

If it was possible for that bloodless face to grow paler, it did. There was a moment of rasping, choking noises before Vasmer gagged out a intelligible reply, fighting use the few muscles he still had control over. "Please, I already told you. I didn't know he was yours."

"But he wasn't mine. Not in the way you mean. Those ways are obsolete, and those who follow them will join them in the dust of the past." D's eyes darkened, as he let his bloodlust fade. "It is the current rule of the earth."

"You won't dare," Vasmer spat. "Do it, and that precious village will be ended, half-breed. Don't you think I have enough wits to prevent an uprising?"

"How?" D's voice was cold as ice, and his stare was just as cold.

Vasmer only smirked, a horrible expression as severed muscles spasmed, trying to obey his will. D's expression didn't change, but he gripped the vampire's forehead with his left hand. The Noble's eyes dimmed, and his eyelids drooped before he suddenly screamed, trying futilely to struggle. "I won't tell you! Ah!" Another shriek. "You never found the other victims, let that be a hint! Stop!"

D did, lifting his hand away. He stared at the pathetic man before him for a moment, before approaching the robot, claiming his sword, and removing Vasmer's head in a single, swift stroke. He plucked it up, and threw it into the fireplace, which would soon render it harmless ash.

Then, with a look of uncharacteristic rage, D plunged the knife that been freed by the decapitation into Vasmer's torso, slicing several swift, vicious cuts and seizing the still faintly-twitching heart from his chest. "D, I think that's enough." The hoarse voice from his left hand sounded a bit worried. "You're taking this too far. We need to go and deal with the other victims."

D dropped the organ, stooped, and thrust the knife into its center, pinning it to the floor. "I know," he said, voice soft as if he was speaking to someone else than his usual companion. He stripped off the dark velvet coat, now ripped by Vasmer's struggles and soaked with both their blood, and dropped it as he made his way back to the elevator.

Part 6 is here: X

#vhdweek #vhdweek2018 #vampire hunter d #fan fiction

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anotherdirtylaferte · 3 years

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Tales from a Dream-Walker: Quartz Amplifiers - OC

Materials:

2 or more crystals, quartz, or crystalline minerals

Comfy place to meditate

I was thinking that it was time to try something different.

I had read about a type of meditation on a friend’s blog, and thought ‘Oh, what the hell, why not?’ I’m not the “strongest” at any of these “astral projection” or “lucid dreaming” techniques, but I feel I have been partaking in these activities for a while now, so I believed myself to be prepared for this… meditation.

I wasn’t…

I was sitting comfortably on my bedroom floor. The directions for this technique said to sit perfectly still, focus on your breathing, and also focus on the stones and crystals around you. (You can also lie on your back, on a couch or sofa, for this.)

Oh yea, this meditation involved pieces, boosters so to say. The term ‘pieces’ refers to crystals, pendants, and stones that one can use to “focus” or “amplify” a meditation or meditative state. I happened to have several pieces so I didn’t have to go out and buy any.

I had my nine pieces laid out around me in a semi-circle. My favorite piece, the tea-candle sized Tibetan quartz, was positioned directly in front of me. It was my favorite because it was a gift from a Native American friend of mine. She had been the one to get me involved with these activities in the first place.

I was sitting patiently, focusing on my breathing, and keeping my stones and crystals in my thoughts. The meditation I was performing was supposed to channel the energy I was using to focus on the stones and in turn they would amplify an astral projection, and I have heard and read about this process being “intense.”

My breathing was calm and controlled, I did all I could to stay alert, and it seemed as though thirty minutes had gone by. I felt my body begin to vibrate and that is when the true experience began! The strangest suction sensation came over me, as though a powerful vacuum had been placed a few inches from my chest. It was a rough experience. A sensation as though large fingers had penetrated into my body coursed through me. My chest got a sensation as though somebody was pressing against my chest with both hands and palms flat. I could feel them latch onto me and as they began to dig into my body, I could feel my insides move. These massive, unseen hands had a spectral hold upon me. They clamped upon my being as though grabbing hold of the front of my shirt and jerked me forward. I could feel myself or rather, my ‘astral’ self, leave my body. Again, they pulled upon my being and jerked me forward and away from my physical body again, this time with a lot more power and with a stronger sense of urgency. Then, with a stronger and more forceful tug upon my body, I came free and ‘stumbled’ into the space in front of my physical body. Almost as though I were floating, I was hovering in front of my physical body.

I was RIPPED out of my body! Never before had I experienced such an explosive out of body journey; such a drastic change of mental planes. I felt myself, as if thrown by an invisible beast; go through a colorful “light” barrier, which I could only assume was my astral-self passing quickly through the “crystalline amplifiers.” Let me try my best to describe the next sequence of events:

There was a moment, right after my consciousness left my physical body, but right before I ‘filtered’ through the quartz, where I was an ethereal form. Time seemed to have slowed down. I could see ‘through’ myself as well as the objects around me. My physical body was covered in what felt to be pins-and-needles but it was not a painful sensation as one might think. It was actually a very soothing sensation and warmth radiated from my body. A constant tugging, yet nothing too serious, nagged on my lower back. Upon inspection, a ‘tether’ left my body at my lower back, just above the tailbone, and I followed the ‘cord’ back to my physical body where it seemed to connect to my forehead, where the hypothetical “third-eye” would be. When I turned my attention around, away from my physical form, nine fantastically colored tunnels lay ahead of me in a semi-circle around my astral-self. I could feel wind behind my being, pushing me towards them. I can remember thinking: Nobody is going to believe any of this shit!

As I drifted closer to the tunnels, it occurred to me that distance was warped here. The distance from the “tunnel” and my astral-self was a lot larger than the distance of the crystals from my physical body. As I neared them, the wind behind me had picked up and I could now feel a suction sensation towards each of the tunnels. My physical body was tingling all over the back. As I strained to stay focused on the traveling, I felt the strongest pull from the deep purple, bluish tunnel directly in front of me. In this “plane” the crystals all appeared to be portals of some kind. The larger, more majestic (or so I thought) of these portals was directly in front of me. I knew it was related with the Tibetan Quartz because of how the layout of the crystals corresponded with the layout of the tunnels. Then, without warning, a sudden pull on my astral body jerked me towards the center tunnel. I fought to stay put; I focused on all of this, trying to remain calm. I wasn’t ready to leave this experience yet.

I fought the urge to tumble through into whatever was on the other side. I almost felt as though I was walking backwards, against the band of a giant slingshot, and I was the projectile. The pull got stronger and I could no longer fight it, I released my hold. I rocketed through the tunnel ahead of me. When I shot through the threshold, my mind was basically blown. As I came through the threshold, I entered a realm of unimaginable beauty. Every surface reflected brilliant hues of brilliant colors. Everything seemed to be made of glass, or maybe even quartz, either way; everything reflected the light and bent it in many different angles. Every time a ray of light crossed over another section of itself, a rhomboid rainbow would appear. At times, there were entire “clouds” of such brilliant colors and so many overlays of the colors that entire sections of the room were plain white. It was an incredibly brilliant white, and upon closer inspection I could actually see every single color of the rainbow, even colors I’d never seen before. I focused on my surroundings.

And for what I know to be only an instant, I looked around me and beheld the most detailed and beautiful of visions. I saw my room. I saw “through” my room. I could see outside of my room as well. Everything became see through, transparent; all boundaries slipped away. No limits, pure freedom, I had become one with everything around me. I floated over and passed through the wall of the house and I was now on my front porch. I could feel the heat of the sun that was passing through my astral body ON my physical body. Even though my actual body was indoors, I could hear a dog barking in the distance. It was faint enough that I knew there was no possible way for me to hear that from inside the house. I could see the trees in the front yard as well as those in the surrounding yards. The strangest part of all of this was that EVERYTHING was transparent. Everything had a definite outline, but I could literally see through everything. Looking at bushes and shrubbery was like looking at a clump of really clear bubbles in the form of a bush. This experience maybe lasted a total of twenty seconds but it felt like it had been several minutes.

Then, all of a sudden, a blow came across my jaw, as though being punched and my physical body jerked. A massive cooling sensation overcame me, as though being dunked into cold water, or stepping into a walk-in freezer, and I was slammed back into my body as forcibly as I was taken out. I was startled by the abruptness of the situation. All of this had happened so quickly yet felt so dragged out.

I looked around my room, everything was brighter than normal. And as the ghostly glow began to fade from everything, I noticed my Tibetan quartz on the floor in front of me. It had cracked in half. It lay in front of me in two pieces, its dark center exposed. There was a strange detachment I felt towards this sight, as though I had just heard about the death of a good friend.

It sat there, its two pieces just staring at me.

And I sat there, wondering how the hell that just happened.

I replayed the whole scene in my head. It was an incredible experience. Could the punch-like blow I felt have been the quartz breaking?

Did having the stones around me strengthen my projection or was this whole experience only because of the new technique?

Did the strength of me leaving my body cause my quartz to crack, or did it already have a fault in it?

Because I could amplify “myself” does this show that we are just bundles of energy walking around; bundles of energy that can be manipulated and strengthened? How big can our energies get?

I have more questions now than I did when I first began learning about this technique. The suction sensation I felt was queer yet at the same time fantastic. It’s hard to use everyday words to describe such a unique experience. A huge; I mean massive, vacuum hose being held over my body…

Like I said earlier, all of this happened so quickly, yet took a while to achieve. The sheer physical reactions were enough to make me want more. I will definitely be trying this one again. I got a taste of something… incredible.

Now I want my questions answered…

#writing #My writing #writers on tumblr #poetsandwriters #writerslife #aestehtic #astral #out of body experience #follow #taurus #crystals #quartz #meditation

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cryptochurp · 6 years

Text

Op Ed: Tulip Myths and Modern Cryptocurrency Skepticism

“Ever heard of tulips?” It’s a question anyone who is publically involved in the cryptocurrency space has been asked multiple times. With the enormous gains in value the industry has seen, many observers come to the same conclusion. It’s a bubble.

The take is not a terrible one and many experienced cryptocurrency traders agree with the sentiment. Bubbles have come to be an expected occurrence in the space. The difference in opinion comes when deciding whether the “pop” will be a minor setback or the final conclusion in an exciting but short-lived ride.

On one side are the supporters of cryptocurrency. Their motivations can be boiled down to two points: desire for profits and a belief that the technology will benefit humanity. They believe that bubbles are a natural phenomenon in price discovery and an inevitable part of the long-term upward trend in value that will occur as cryptocurrencies become more utilized. They also understand that, while bubbles can hurt some traders in the short term, they are a necessary evil in the development of a technology which stands to dramatically increase human financial freedom. Sometimes these motivations can seem at odds, but in general they coexist within the community.

Get rich making the world a better place. It’s an attractive pitch.

On the other side are the skeptics. Doubt in cryptocurrency has made strange bedfellows of a band of commentators as diverse as it is vocal. Nobel prize economists, billionaire bankers, goldbugs and central banks have all weighed in to signal their prediction of the industry’s inevitable demise. And with the spotlight of increasing coin valuations has come even more doubters. In the age of Twitter, it’s almost essential that you have an opinion on the matter and that you let the world know it. For detractors, the tulip meme often comes into play:

OG Bitcoin pic.twitter.com/qQSMJYhLR7

— Tommy Vietor (@TVietor08) January 6, 2018

For skeptics as much as believers, there is a personal economic motivation. While they may not have cashed in on the extraordinary rise of cryptocurrencies, they think the game is rigged from the start. By keeping their hard earned cash out of the market, they are saving themselves from an “inevitable” crash to zero.

But under this current of self-preservation is an ethical play opposite to that of cryptocurrency supporters. Many detractors believe that this technology is not just ridiculous but actually harmful to society. What drives this outlook? The true history of the tulip bubble can give us an interesting view of the motivations driving their sentiment.

An Early Mania

Tulip Mania is the go-to story whenever someone wants to talk about humanity’s penchant for irrational exuberance in financial markets. It’s the catchy name for the extraordinary rise in value, and subsequent crash, of Dutch tulip bulb valuations over a four month span from November 1636 to February 1637. This phenomenon had devastating effects on the Dutch economy and left many people in financial ruin.

At least that’s how the story is told.

But according to Anne Goldgar, Professor of Early Modern History at King’s College London and author of Tulipmania: Money, Honor, and Knowledge in the Dutch Golden Age, the popular story is mostly an exaggeration.

The description of her book reads like this:

“We have heard how these bulbs changed hands hundreds of times in a single day, and how some bulbs, sold and resold for thousands of guilders, never even existed. Tulipmania is seen as an example of the gullibility of crowds and the dangers of financial speculation. But it wasn’t like that … not one of these stories is true.”

Goldgar uses extensive research to expose that, while there was a rise and crash of tulip prices, much of what we believe about the period is the product of historical exaggeration from a small number of writers.

What drove this? According to Goldgar, it was a product of societal anxieties triggered by the immense riches of the Dutch Golden Age. As Lorraine Boissoneault writes in Smithsonian Magazine’s recent piece on the book, “All the outlandish stories of economic ruin, of an innocent sailor thrown in prison for eating a tulip bulb, of chimney sweeps wading into the market in hopes of striking it rich — those come from propaganda pamphlets published by Dutch Calvinists worried that the tulip-propelled consumerism boom would lead to societal decay.”

English historian Simon Schama also writes of the period: “The prodigious quality of their [the Dutch] success went to their heads, but it also made them a bit queasy. Even their most uninhibited documents of self-congratulation are haunted by the threat of overvloed (abundance) ... a word heavy with warning as well as euphoria.”

When looked at through the lens of this historic research, the legend of the tulip bubble becomes less about financial mania and more about the way that an economic memory can reflect a society’s collective mindset. The Dutch Golden Age represents a period during the 17th century when “Dutch trade, science, military, and art were among the most acclaimed in the world.”

This transformation was termed the “Dutch Miracle” by historian K.W. Swart. But, while it is easy to look back now and realize this era was a huge stepping stone to the modern prosperity the Dutch people enjoy today, at the time the progress was not as apparent. Many of the Dutch found a hard time adjusting to a society where fortunes were being created overnight. Schama compares the mindset to one which was found by de Tocqueville in 19th century America: “that strange melancholy which often haunts the inhabitants of democratic countries in the midst of their abundance, and the disgust at life which sometimes seizes upon them in the midst of calm and easy circumstances.”

While there was undoubtedly a run on Dutch Tulip prices, it seems there was an equal run on seizing the opportunity to find a negative aspect to extraordinary societal progress. Today, we are seeing the same mindset from cryptocurrency skeptics.

Modern Anxieties

Cryptocurrency has arrived at an uncomfortable moment in history. There is a wide debate surrounding whether or not technology is hurting human progress. Many argue that smartphones are making kids depressed and robots are taking our jobs. The thought is that technology which was supposed to make life better is instead causing us to become stupid, antisocial and unhealthy. On top of this, the freedom of speech made possible by the internet is being questioned for the alleged harm it can cause to democracy.

It is in this atmosphere of negativity that critics have found their “tulip moment” in cryptocurrency. It is being latched onto as an lightning rod for these growing worries about a society that is becoming radically shaped by the digital age. Detractors consistently ignore any possible justification for cryptocurrency to be considered useful and instead focus on its most distasteful features:

Haha, I feel sorry for all you losers who missed out on the Bitcoin train. You should've bought in years ago, like me: A perfectly normal man who coincidentally hoarded a virtual currency during a time when it's only use was for sex trafficking and purchasing organs.

— Shane (@Shanehasabeard) December 8, 2017

Many cannot push their analysis past observations of price movements. Warren Buffett partner Charlie Munger has described the cryptocurrency scene as “total insanity” and recently told an audience at University of Michigan’s Ross School of Business, “I think it is perfectly asinine to even pause to think about them. It’s bad people, crazy bubble, bad idea, luring people into the concept of easy wealth without much insight or work.”

Others, echoing popular sentiment questioning unbridled freedom of speech, are worried about a lack of governmental oversight. Back in 2013 author Charlie Stross wrote in Why I Want Bitcoin to Die in a Fire that “Bitcoin looks like it was designed as a weapon intended to damage central banking and money-issuing banks, with a Libertarian political agenda in mind — to damage states’ ability to collect tax and monitor their citizens’ financial transactions … late-period capitalism may suck, but replacing it with Bitcoin would be like swapping out a hangnail for Fournier's gangrene.”

Economist Paul Krugman cited the article in his piece Bitcoin Is Evil, adding “Stross doesn’t like that agenda, and neither do I.” While Krugman did admit he was open to conversation on the topic, fellow economist, Joseph Stiglitz, has been less forgiving. Recently he told Bloomberg “Bitcoin is successful only because of its potential for circumvention, lack of oversight...So it seems to me it ought to be outlawed … It doesn’t serve any socially useful function.”

The Progress Paradox

Are these arguments baseless? Not at all. Cryptocurrencies do in fact make many unsavory things possible. But, much like supporters believe bubbles are a necessary evil for price growth, they also believe that some illicit activities are a worthwhile trade-off for the ability to have a censorship-resistant, value-transfer system. They believe the win for personal freedom trumps all else.

It looks as if this idea is spreading. Bitcoin alone has grown from roughly 6,000 transactions per day in January of 2011 to 240,000 transactions on January 1, 2018. With 1000+ other cryptocurrencies, each growing their own communities, this desire for this financial independence appears contagious.

To the critics, these statistics do not matter. They will continue to focus on perceived faults. As the myth of the Tulip Bubble illustrates, this is rooted in human psychology. Some people are set on ignoring the progress around them.

De Tocqueville observed: “In America I saw the freest and most enlightened men placed in the happiest circumstances that the world affords; it seemed to me as if a cloud habitually hung upon their brow, and I thought them serious and almost sad, even in their pleasures.” Over the last few centuries, technology has made our lives less nasty, brutish and short. But, for some of us, the natural reaction has been to question whether it was really worth it.

Cryptocurrency now finds itself at the center of this larger debate over the morality of technology in a developing society. If supporters have their way, it holds the power to usher in a new era of human economic freedom. If critics have their way it will be regulated to death.

Let’s hope one side ends up as forgotten as Calvinist pamphlet writers.

This is a guest post by Kenny Spotz. Views expressed are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Bitcoin Magazine or BTC Media.

This article originally appeared on Bitcoin Magazine.

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#BTC #HODL #ETH #CryptoChurp.com

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ellahmacdermott · 6 years

Text

Op Ed: Tulip Myths and Modern Cryptocurrency Skepticism

Get rich making the world a better place. It’s an attractive pitch.

OG Bitcoin pic.twitter.com/qQSMJYhLR7

— Tommy Vietor (@TVietor08) January 6, 2018

An Early Mania

At least that’s how the story is told.

The description of her book reads like this:

Modern Anxieties

— Shane (@Shanehasabeard) December 8, 2017

The Progress Paradox

Let’s hope one side ends up as forgotten as Calvinist pamphlet writers.

This is a guest post by Kenny Spotz. Views expressed are his own and do not necessarily reflect those of Bitcoin Magazine or BTC Media.

This article originally appeared on Bitcoin Magazine.

from InvestmentOpportunityInCryptocurrencies via Ella Macdermott on Inoreader https://bitcoinmagazine.com/articles/op-ed-tulip-myths-and-modern-cryptocurrency-skepticism/

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