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ineffableteeth · 1 month

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So I was rewatching Good omens and I realized something.

Season 2 brings up Memory. A lot

Specifically Crowleys memory

In every episode something is said about it and I find this really interesting

I’m only going to bring up what I think are major, I want to note there are more instances than this. This is gonna be messy and a little disorganized since I’m just throwing my words on this post as I think of them and read the episode transcripts but I had to write it out.

In Episode 1 we see pre-fall Crowley and are introduced to our amnesiac archangel. This will be important later

We don’t see much of Crowleys memory loss in this episode but the biggest example I could find was the way Beelzebub had said Extreme Sanctions after Crowley misunderstood

It was as if they were expecting him to remember

In Episode 2 we get the first blatant hint of Crowleys memory loss

When Gabriel said he couldn’t remember, Crowley doesn’t say “Well try anyway”

He says “Yes you can.”

Crowley knew Gabriel could remember, he knew he could make himself remember. As if he knew it from experience.

Also in this episode we get Crowleys “I’m a demon, I lied.” As well as several other instances where he lies in this episode.

I also feel like his “Lonliness” is important to point out, because I feel like that goes much much deeper than “[I’m on] my side”

In Episode 3 we get Crowley and Gabriel’s Conversation about “Gravity”

Crowley knows what gravity is on a base level. But he says “I don’t remember” when asked why gravity exists and proceeds to give a very nondescript explanation

Now for Episode 4. This episode is actually what triggered me to start looking for these instances.

Because of Furfur

Near the end of the episode when Furfur enters the dressing room he mentions that him and Crowley were directly next to eachother during the Great War, as well as the fact Crowley used to jump on his back “Like a little monkey in a waistcoat”

And Crowley didn’t remember

All he remembered was going to war

Why does Furfur — A demon — remember but Crowley doesn’t?

In Episode 5 we get one of the most crucial ‘memory’ scenes imo

The aftermath of Crowley threatening Gabriel

When Gabriel tells Crowley “It hurts to remember, my head isn’t built for that” Crowley replies with “I know, do it anyway”

Again it sounds like Crowley is speaking from experience

The most important quote to me though is when Crowley says “I know, looking at where the furniture isn’t.”

Because after the fact he proceeds to ask Gabriel if he wants a hot chocolate

This wasn’t a sympathetic action. It was Empathetic.

He feels for Gabriel, he knows what it’s like to not know

Finally in Episode 6 we get context.

This is where the whole amnesiac archangel comes into play.

Before I get into that though I want to bring up Crowleys meeting with Saraquael. Because something interesting stood out to me while reading her voicelines. After Crowley asks “Do we know eachother?” Saraquael says “When you were an Angel” and pauses before she says the following voiceline “We worked together on the horsehead nebula”

Those were two different sentences. I’m definitely looking too far into this but to me it sounded like she knew he wouldn’t remember so she gave unnecessary context. This as well as the fact she didn’t respond when Crowley essentially said he didn’t remember her.

Back to my original point though, during this episode we finally learn how (and why) Gabriel lost his memories. Angels can remove their own memories as well as have their memories removed by other angels.

But clearly Furfur still has his memories, as well as Shax, Dagon, and Beelzebub

And anytime Crowley mentions “remembering” something it’s post-fall

Adding on Neil’s post about “Crowley not being a reliable narrator on his fall” as well as showing Crowley pre-fall in episode one leads me to believe there’s some foreshadowing in there and something happened to Crowleys memory.

But What?

Why doesn’t he remember?

What did they do to him?

#good omens #crowley #crowley good omens #good omens crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowphale #ineffable husbands #gay omens #aziraphale x crowley #good omens aziracrow #aziracrow good omens #crowphale good omens #good omens crowphale #aziraphale good omens #good omens aziraphale #crowley loves aziraphale #aziraphale loves crowley #good omens theory

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fanonical · 3 months

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the longest con with gravity falls foreshadowing was the pines twins floating all weightless in the intro like bitch that was right there the whole time

#Gravity Falls

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optimistic-violinist · 16 days

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Hot Take: Magnifico learning magic and learning how to protect the wishes would've been a better plot for Wish.

Think of it. We start with a town on fire and see Magnifico running away. Maybe he gets caught by the villain. "Any last wishes?" Maybe we see his parents or siblings tackle the villain and tell him to run only for him to watch them be killed (off screen of course).

We get a shot of our villain. I'm thinking a very Shan Yu-like from Mulan. Just, evil. Pillager. Bad Guy.

Magnifico escapes. Since he's gonna be voiced by Chris Pine still (of course), we get the ROTG voice over. "I never saw them again. I never saw my home again. And I vowed that that would never happen again. But that was a long time ago." Cue musical sting, pan up to the night sky and wishing star, title.

Fast forward, Magnifico is now a teenager. Has an adopted mother, living in a cottage in the woods or something near town. He's trying to study magic in his free time, his mother is worried about him getting in over his head. He wants to apply for the magic school in the town. Cue song a la "When Will My Life Begin."

He takes the magic exam and isn't bad, but isn't good enough. Maybe they're snobs, maybe it's really that he failed fair and square.

Note: Amaya also lives in this town. They're friends.

Breakdown that night. Cue "So I Make This Wish," almost verbatim and summons... STAR!

Humanoid Boy Star from the concept art, specifically.

They get talking. Magnifico is obviously starstruck (ba dum tish).

M: "you're, you're---"

S: stupendous, extraordinary, splendiferous?

M: magnificent

Cue discussion about why he's out there wishing, the magic exam, why he wants to learn magic, and Star offers to teach him.

Not sure what happens here. Probably mini-quest to get magic books or items. Upbeat montage song. At the end, hint that the bad guy is coming to destroy this town now.

Somewhere in here, we befriend Amaya more and Magnifico starts to fall in love with her. Cue cute romantic song, something about wishing for each other. Star in the background a la Eponine from Les Mis. NOW we can either go romance or friendship route: either way, there is pining about how he is a cosmic entity, ageless, can't stay forever, and Magnifico is going to grow up and do great things without him.

Oh no!! Bad guys are suddenly a lot closer! We've got to prep and do something! Potentially an ensemble/town song. Culminates in Star asking Magnifico what his wish really is. We see his wish is founding Rosas with Amaya at his side. Star reassures him that that's exactly what he's going to do and teaches him how to take and protect wishes. We got a duet a la "For Good" between them. Star tells him that he's going to be magnificent.

Big battle against the bad guys! Magnifico with his really cool sorcery powers! He takes the Bad Guy's wish to harm people and makes him forget it. Magnifico also gets a cool "Defying Gravity" song here with some line about promising to protect people's wishes and if he should ever fail or use that power for evil, may he be cursed or something. Foreshadowing, y'know?

We get one last goodbye as Star goes to leave. Do they kiss? Maybe. Do they have A SUPER TIGHT TENDER HUG FULL OF LOVR AND CARE. ABSOLUTELY. I LIVE FOR THAT. Probably a reprise of one of the songs here.

Fast forward once more to Magnifico as a young adult with Amaya, sailing on a ship as they discover the island that will become Rosas.

Fin.

#Ill probably draw something for this eventually #but enjoy my train of thought #The music would be so good!!!#Wish #Disney wish #Wish Disney #King Magnifico #Brittany rambles

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neversetyoufree · 1 year

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Lord I cannot believe it took me this long to realize this, but. Vnc's refrain of Noé trying to grab Vanitas's hand is a metaphor.

This whole time I've been reading the constant references to "Noé grabs Vanitas and saves him from falling, but one day he'll fail" as very literal foreshadowing for a day when Vanitas is going to fall and get hurt (or die?) and Noé will fail to catch him. And I still think there's a good chance that's true! However, it's also really obvious symbolism for the idea of salvation in general.

I've beaten this drum to death, but Vanitas is more or less the ultimate example of a character doomed by the narrative. He is going to die; the entire story is the buildup to his death. And one of the main conflicts is that Noé wants desperately to save him (and wants it more and more as they grow closer), but by nature of the story, we know he can't.

At least by Noé's definition of salvation, Vanitas is unsaveable. His death and suffering cannot be prevented, and despite Noé's best efforts, he is going to die by Noé's hand.

Enter the falling metaphor.

The absolute certainty of Vanitas's death works like the force of gravity. He is constantly being pulled down and down toward his doom like an endless free fall. But then Noé steps in and tries to save him, and in little ways he even succeeds! In all the little less important ways, he grabs Vanitas's hand time after time.

When Vanitas goes toppling off the ledge in Gévaudan, Noé catches him and shortens his fall. When Vanitas sinks into despair in Moreau's lab, Noé snaps him out of it. And when Vanitas gets lost in his own trauma and self-hypnosis at the amusement park, Noé brings him back to reality. For all of the little free falls, both literal and metaphorical, Noé is there for Vanitas before he hits the ground. The beating heart of their relationship is Noé's constant attempts to catch him.

However, Noé is haunted by the fear that he is going to fail someday. When Faustina reverts back to Naenia and dissipates in Gévaudan, he's shown a vision of Charlatan(?) telling him his hand cannot reach Vanitas. Naenia preys on people's worst fears and weaknesses, and this is one of Noé's. He fears that his hand will not reach the one he's grasping towards, and he will fail to save those that matter to him. The very broad line "you persist in reaching out for them" in the middle of Noé trying to literally catch someone more or less tells us outright that the falling and catching is a metaphor for salvation.

And when he speaks from the future, Noé confirms that this exact fear has come true. Noé in his narration is haunted by the regrets of "that day when I didn't grab your hand." His grand attempt at Vanitas's salvation has ultimately failed, and he didn't catch him when it mattered most.

The night that he first meets Vanitas, Noé throws himself out of an airship in the attempt to catch and save him. And from that point onward, he tries to catch him over and over again. Their relationship is one long straining outstretched hand as Noé attempts to pull Vanitas from his endless plummet downward. He is the one person deeply focused on Vanitas's salvation. However, Noé cannot ultimately stop the forces of tragedy and gravity and doom, and in the way that matters most, he can never quite reach Vanitas's hand.

There is going to be a day when Noé will be unable to catch him, and that day is the day that the entire rest of their relationship (and the entire rest of the metaphor) is building to. Noé is constantly reaching out, but he cannot save a man that is already dead, no matter how passionate the outstretched hand.

#vnc is so absolutely jam packed with symbolic things #that sometimes even the really obvious stuff like this goes over my head #like how long it took me to think about Jeanne's gauntlet case being a coffin! or this whole massive metaphor!#there's just so much going on that even the most blatant things can be missed in the flood #vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas #noé archiviste #english major hours #the vanoé agenda #<<I've been tweaking my tagging system and trying to keep track of all my posts about their relationship. rather than just the shippy ones #but hooboy does it still feel weird to use that tag here lmao #Noé arqueueviste

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vwdq-irug-vlps · 2 years

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Quote from S2 E16: Roadside Attraction

#gravity falls #stan pines #stanley pines #grunkle stan #quotes #foreshadowing #or just a coincidence #but probably not

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tr3xinfinite · 2 months

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Ok so finally here's my opinion about the Jim/Troll!Jim situation

I'm gonna try to be fast so maybe i will left a few details

First of all what i think about him becoming a Troll?

I think it was a great twist, not many shows are brave enough to make a whole almost permanent change in the MCs like TH did, Amphibia, The Owl House, Gravity Falls, Avatar, etc. I can't think of many shows where at the end the mc is forced to sacrifice his humanity and his normal life in order to gain a bigger power enough to save the people he loves (not to mention the bathtub scene is actually a MASTERPIECE of scene) hell even 3Below and Wizards didn't do this

Could have been executed better? Mmm maybe if Jimhunters was actually a Part 1/2 episode and Angor Reborn was adapted so we could have more screentime to Tol boi and his development

Do i think what Merlin did was right? I'm gonna be kinda gray but he was and at the same time not right, he destroyed Jim's life since the moment the amulet was held into his hands or should i say the peak of the iceberg (cause everything went downhill since Angor's debut) but at the same time he got a point, Jim's humanity was his biggest help it was his heart what tied into all the people he helped and who helped him, but that wasn't enough, his humanity started being his weakness by the end of Season 2 if Jim battled a whole Gumm-Gumm army + Gunmar + Angor + Morgana yeah he definetly couldn't have make it, Angor only died cause he sacrificed himself, Morgana was throw into another dimension and not exactly killed and Gumm-Gumms were gone along with Gunmar, but almost all of that was possible thanks to Jim's sacrifice, damn even one of the comics shows and alternate timeline where Jim dies in the eternal night

And i think that was an unavoidable situation, Merlin practically manipulated Jim to make 1 choice not 2, the Deep showed a Non-human Jim (not exactly TrollJim but maybe a glimpse of him) and there's also the amount of foreshadowing around it, and i don't think the line "Don't worry mom, you don't need to protect me, i think this is what i was meant to do" in the transformation scene was a random choice of words hell even Hunter Jim warned him.

Do i think Guillermo didn't have enough balls to let him be a troll for the whole franchise? Mmmm no, if Guillermo really didn't have balls to do it he wouldn't even turned Jim into a troll to begin with besides where talking about the same madman who make Wizards a whole kill count of 10 episodes

Now for the point i wanna talk here is

what do i think about Jim turning back to human?

Let's do one thing first, separate Human Jim from Troll Jim as if they were different characters

Human Jim was the original Jim a happy boy who was happy to help his mama, hang with his friends and tried his beat into saving humankind and trollkind while trying not to skip school days

TrollJim was the most depressed and conflicted state Jim was in his life, he couldn't go in the sunlight, couldn't eat human food, was separated from his friends only having Claire and Blink, was almost killed by the Green Knight, locked in a crystal by Merlin, the shard was aiming for his heart, he got to fight another war while being phisically at his most painful state and then he knew that no matter what he tries the Onyx will eventually kill him which leads me to believe that maybe Jim turning into a full Troll to fight Arthur was an attemp to do a "Suicide by Cop"

Human Jim was the warrior he became a new "light" for all the earth, Troll Jim was the warrior Merlin wanted him to be he "eclipsed" himself

TrollJim's main reason to exist was to kill Gunmar, Angor and Morgana and save everyone from the Eternal Night, notice how after killing Gunmar and after Angor's death TrollJim was slowly "dying" when he meet Arthur.

Then he turns himself into Beast Jim turning into a pseudo Gumm-Gumm, Jim was at his most feral, confused and most uncontrolable state, even his soul ended up corrupted, the happy Jim and tragically heroic TrollJim that we knew died in that moment all what's left was "that beast"

And what happens after Morgana (the last reminisence of the eternal night, the reason why TrollJim was born) dies not so after Jim also dies, notice what i'm trying to say? Born to defeat Gunmar, Angor and Morgana? And just after Morgana's death he finally dies too? I'm not trying to say that Jim needed Morgana to die to be human again what i'm trying to say is that with M finally dead he's free from the Eternal Night, Human Jim came back and is now with his friends a second chance his "resurrection".

After all that suffering, being born to fight a war and being turned into a monster TrollJim can finally rest in peace and leave the rest to Human Jim

I see this whole thing as a rebirth of Jim and as a way to let TrollJim rest cause he could finally ended his purpose (even if he wasn't exactly the one who killed Morgana)

For an example to this i have Ken Kaneki and Haise Sasaki, the same being but not the same person, Haise was just a happy dream of Ken and once he finally accepted that, he "died" and let Kaneki regain his body, the difference is that the Ken and Haise thing was literal while the Jim and TrollJim thing is more of my POV (now you get why i used Haise and Kaneki as a reference for the fan art)

But anyways that's just my opinion, but everyone can have their own interpretations

So in short: Jim regaining his humanity was like a second chance of living while TrollJim dying was a way to set him free

#toa trollhunters #jim lake junior #tales of arcadia #jim lake jr #analysis #thread #troll jim #Beast Jim

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sandinthemachine · 1 year

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Chilling Rapture

Part 2 of Deadly Nightshade, a monster!König au.

Part 1

Masterlist

I actually had so much fun finishing this one, my power went out and I had to handwrite it by candlelight until my wifi came back on, hopefully it's strong enough to post this now because the lights keep flickering.

I also have a draft sketch of the map so hopefully that can come soon as well.

For those interested, the songs at the beginning will sometimes be chosen for a little bonus foreshadowing. There's also a Shirley Jackson reference in this one for any classic horror fans out there. Hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: nothing serious yet (lemme know if I missed anything)

Word count: 3,313

There's someone walking over my grave For a sudden shiver is making its way Creeping over me, coursing down my spine And taking over this body of mine I can feel it in the depths of my being A chill of the blood, an ominous feeling -"Walking Over My Grave" by Blackbriar

It is a quiet kind of night.

No. To say it is quiet does not do it nearly the kind of justice it deserves, nor does it stir up the emotions such a night as this has urged forward, deep in the pit of your stomach where your dinner still sits heavily.

Quiet ushers forth a peaceful kind of relaxation wholly unlike the thick black tar rising up your back.

Silent perhaps is closer, only insofar as the word conjures in you the hopeless repetition of the phrase silent as the grave.

You find every warning and caution drifting through your head as you shift in the bed, but where you would expect fear you feel only an anticipation, strangely dissonant with the weariness of your body.

Where are the birds? Where are the whales? Why hasn’t there been a single gust of wind?

The sea, in clear view of the window when the curtains are open, is soundless. How is that even possible? It is as if some strange god has thrown a great smothering blanket over the entire island, trapping each tiny soul in the silence below. Like flies in honey.

You can’t even hear the blood rushing in your ears.

You find yourself staring at the window curtains, their blackness somehow darker than the shadows around them.

With no notion of why or even how, you find your legs swinging over the bed very much of their own accord, carrying you to those curtains, and behind you the soundless void presses in, a great wave bearing you forward, and you think perhaps you could open this window, let it carry you right to the ocean itself and down below, for surely then you’d hear something, even if it was your own splash before you were dragged below.

You brush the thought aside with a quiet resignation. You will open the window, you think. But only to hear the water.

The curtain fabric brushes velvety soft over your fingers as you push them aside, ears perked to hear a shuffling of fabric, a metal scrape of rings over curtain rods, but neither sound ever comes.

You pause at the drawn curtains, staring at what you know to be the window. It is completely indistinguishable from the darkness of the walls and the curtains, such that you find yourself raising a hand, pressing a palm into the cool glass to make sure it’s there. But when you remove your hand it is as if the window once again vanishes, leaving you staring blankly, eyes nearly burning in their hopeless struggle to see.

You feel strangely dizzy all at once, as if gravity is shifting, pulling at the air around your face, warping the flooring beneath your feet, tilting the walls in hopelessly contrived angles you can’t possibly see in this crushing dark. You could be upside down now, walking on the ceiling with no idea. Perhaps there is no ceiling at all and you are stepping straight up the walls and soon you will step off and fall sideways for an eternity and you will never even see the ground flying by you. Or maybe you will keep walking right up into the sky, only all the stars are gone and you’ll never know the cool mist is clouds wrapping around you as you climb for the rest of eternity.

You shake your head.

Why are you here again?

You suddenly get the overwhelmingly primal feeling that something is watching you, something carved from the darkness itself with no need for eyes or ears, stalking up to you, and you will never see or hear it, you’ll only know it’s there the second it reaches through the window and claws sink into your ribs, grabbing at the heart whose frantic beating it senses like a beacon in the night and…

You yank the curtains closed, stumbling backwards. The need to gasp briefly possesses you, but your throat tightens against your will, cutting off even that sound in a mocking kind of rage.

My quiet, a thousand thoughts chant through your head. My quiet, my darkness, my place, mine mine mine.

And you, who are you to break the silence of this night that doesn’t belong to you?

Your heart stuttering and flapping against your chest, you fall back into bed, tucking your legs up against your chest so tightly you feel it in your lungs.

You bury your face in your knees, swallow a sob.

And try desperately to sleep.

You finally shift again, dragging your head upward as a sluggish grey takes over the room, shoving the shadows further and further into the corners. You stare at your bare shins as the light hits them, a single finger tracing delicately over deep blue-black. You hover your hands over the outlines with a detached kind of contemplation, fingers stretching back into place, perfectly aligning with the rounded shapes.

You hadn’t felt it last night.

Best not to think about that, actually. You let your eyes drift back to the window curtains, fitting your lower lip between your teeth as you take in their limp form.

Right now, stained by the leaden rays of another grey dawn, they’re just curtains. Old and decrepit, with a fraying bottom corner and a coffee stain along one edge. Beyond them is a dusty window, and a view to a monotonously dark sea.

Nothing more.

Never anything more.

The walk to the kitchen is uneventful, the shadows thin and cowardly. A persistent chill worms its way up your neck, but even that gives up when you pull a blanket around yourself, tucking it over your head like a fluffy oversized hoodie.

When you were little, you and your mother always used to bundle up like this, huddled on the couch on cold winter nights as you begged your father to hurry up and restart the fire, please, I’ll freeze solid this instant if you don’t.

Be a lot less complaining around here if you did. And he’d grin at your indignant face, winking over at your uncle in the armchair as they both chuckled.

He’d always pull out extra blankets afterwards, though.

With a loud gulp, you pull the blanket tighter around you.

You should write to your uncle. Yes, that’s exactly what you’ll do, you know you packed stamps and envelopes and...

Damn.

You forgot to pack a pen.

It’s fine, that’s an easy enough thing to find.

In any other house, that is. For the more you search, the more you realize just how little this place has. One floor of cramped rooms smelling of dust, dust, and more dust. A tiny office with an empty desk. Even stranger, atop the desk, atop every surface, actually, are no clear patches, no thinner patches of the dusty coating to indicate that anything had ever been on top of them. Did your uncle have any stuff? Or was he really just content with this place as it was?

You begin to wonder if he ever really lived here at all, or if maybe this is some kind of cruel prank the world is playing on you, sending you to this decrepit old cottage on a tiny island in the middle of nowhere with no friends and nothing to-

Elisha. Probably not a friend. Yet. You’d met her once, after all. But maybe friendly enough to give you a pen. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

You try not to dwell on that question as you throw on some warmer layers and shove past the front door.

Immediately you’re greeted by a frenzy of your own coughing as the acrid tang of cigarette smoke floods your lungs.

What the hell?

You spin all around, scanning your yard, but of course the only one here is you. As you walk forward, the smell quickly fades, and you decide that’s a problem for another time. For all you know, it won’t ever happen again, anyway.

Elisha’s house shows no signs of life, so you knock on her neighbor’s door instead. Almost immediately the rickety door swings open to reveal a stout old man glowering at you past a crooked hooked nose.

You stutter out a hello, earning nothing but an eyebrow raise. “I…uh, well, I just moved in down there and, anyway I just came by to ask Elisha for a pen but it doesn’t seem like she’s…home.”

You trail off as he marches past you, right up to shake Elisha’s poor door with a trio of hard knocks. “New one’s here!” he yells out, not even listening for a reply before picking his way back to his own porch, giving you a wide berth. “She’ll be down in a minute.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He pauses in the doorway, regarding you for a moment before giving a quick nod. With that, he disappears back inside.

A little creak pulls your attention back to Elisha’s door just as her head pokes out of it. “Oh, sweetie, what are you doing standing out in the cold?” She gestures frantically. “In, in!”

With nothing better to do, you oblige.

Her cottage is as small as yours, but that’s where the resemblance ends. A warm fire blazes in the fireplace, combining with the soft light of a couple candles to cast the entire living room in a comforting orange glow. There’s no hint of dust to be found, only soft chairs and a couch covered in extra pillows and fuzzy blankets. Dark blues and emerald greens. An oil painting of a salt marsh hangs above the fire place. Peaceful. Full of sunlight. You take a deep breath, sighing. Woodsmoke and vanilla. Fresh coffee. A hint of ocean salt.

She’s watching, you now realize, heat flushing through your cheeks as you glance at the floor. Even the carpet looks soft. “I…I was actually just stopping by to ask if you have a pen.”

She smiles softly. “Of course, dear.” She moves to the counter, deftly plucking one from a hand-painted mug before pausing. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, ma’am.” The carpet is the perfect shade of green.

“You had better stay, then. I just made fresh rolls, I have plenty of extra.” She tucks the pen into her pocket.

“Oh, I really shouldn’t.” There’s a faded spot in front of the fire. Does she have a cat?”

“Really, it would be my pleasure.”

“I have to get b-”

A hand taps on your shoulder and you jump, finally looking up again. Something warm presses against your sternum, and you glance down. Tea. Your fingers curl around it hesitantly, the weight of it somehow unfamiliar in your stiff hands.

Elisha was just talking. You glance up, trying to force a smile. “Sorry?”

She only sighs. “Couldn’t sleep, could ya?”

Your eyes drift back to the mug, taking in the little gold stars painted along the rim. Their edges begin to blur, and you blink, a little too fast, shake your head even faster. The walls feel cramped again.

“Hey, hey.” Bony fingers wrap around yours, gently pulling you forward, and a hand is on your shoulder, guiding you to sit on the couch. You let yourself sink down, barely noticing Elisha walk away until she’s back and a plate of warm food is being placed in your lap. Your eyes are wider now, burning just a little as you look up at her. She’s already turned away, though, swiping a book up from a side table and curling in an armchair to read.

Tentatively your fingers close around a roll, guiding it to your mouth as the smell floods through your brain.

You’re sure Elisha’s cooking is lovely, but you regret to admit the food is gone before you’ve even tasted it, the crumbs cleaned from the plate with careful fingers, the tea drank in great desperate sips and embarrassingly loud swallows.

You smile at the bottom of the mug now, counting the gold constellations dancing along it. There are dozens of little stars stretching across the inky blue, the gold paint twinkling gleefully as you tilt it this way and that. How did someone paint so many so neatly? Did they have a stamp, maybe? A really long brush and a steady hand? When was the last time you painted?

You push the thought away, glancing up at Elisha. She’s on a new book now, eyes wide and focused.

“Who’s the man next door?”

She jumps a little, eyes a bit wild as they focus on you again. “Hm? Oh.” She laughs. “He scare ya? Don’t worry, George is harmless. Just not a morning person. Runs in the family, I guess.” She holds her palm over her mouth to cover a big yawn.

You giggle, and she raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, guess I didn’t see the resemblance.”

She laughs. “What, the eyebrows weren’t a dead giveaway?”

“Everyone here has the same eyebrows.”

She snorts, slapping her palm over her mouth with wide eyes before you both burst out laughing. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that,” she wheezes between laughs.

“It’s true, though!”

She rubs her eyes, shaking her head with a grin still plastered across her face. “Oh, dear me. You met Martin yet?”

“No.”

“Now there’s a set of eyebrows.”

You quickly lose track of time as the pair of you sit there, her happily describing in detail all the people on the island. And, of course, their eyebrows. The ferryman is Francis (the alliteration makes you smile). He doesn’t live here, but everyone knows him anyway. You learn her brother’s name is John, but that was their father’s name, so everyone calls him Jack. He doesn’t talk much in the mornings, but he sings in the town bar some nights. The man at the general store you met yesterday is Ed. He’s ‘a grouchy old eyesore,’ apparently. But Elisha had smiled as she said it.

Eventually she trails off, her eyes shifting to the window. “It’s probably time you headed back.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion before you realize she’s right. The fire is long dead, and the candles flickered out hours ago. Without their light, it’s easy to see the grey outdoors steadily fading to black once again.

Elisha walks you out the door, hovering on her porch. “You come back here if you need anything, you understand?”

You nod dutifully. “Of course.”

“Oh! Almost left without this.” She fishes the pen out of her pocket, stuffing it into your hands.

“Right, yeah. And…Elisha, thank you…for today.” You gesture vaguely, not sure what else to say, but she only smiles softly, giving you one last nod.

You start down the steps and pause, eyes settling on her brother’s porch. He sits in his rickety old chair, eyes fixed on the distance. Smoking a cigarette.

“Um, Elisha?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Could you tell your brother to be careful when he smokes? I think the wind blew some of it my way this morning, and my lungs can’t really take that.”

She stares at you for a long moment, head tilting slightly. “There wasn’t any wind this morning, dear.”

“Oh.” You swallow, shaking your head. “Never…mind.”

With one last look back at her brother, you head home.

Something feels…off. Your heartbeat picked up as soon as you entered the driveway, and now the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Your hand hovers over the doorknob, trembling slightly.

You glance back.

Nothing. A little bird hops across the lawn. It freezes, shaking slightly as it looks at you, before flying away with a squawk.

Your hand tightens around the handle, wrist turning very carefully, opening the door.

A bellowing howl echoes across the marsh.

You leap through the door, slamming it behind you. Your hands shake as they grab at the lock, slipping and sliding off it before it finally clicks into place and you back away, stumbling and barely catching yourself.

You rush over to your bag, flinging it to the side as you throw the closet open, fingers curling tightly around the old bat. You flick it upwards, relishing in its comforting weight as you clutch it to your chest.

THUNK.

You leap backwards as something heavy crashes against your bedroom window.

Did the house shake, too? Or was that your imagination?

Did the curtains quiver just now? Or was that you?

A tiny croak sounds through the window, and you gasp, taking a step closer. Another strangled sound breaks the silence, garbled and unintelligible. Your eyes narrow as you press your ears against the wall, the little sounds continuing.

Carefully you pick your way to the door, the bat resting over one shoulder. You open it just a crack, poking your head out. Nothing. You slide out of it sideways, crouching low as you work your way around the house, eyes fixating on every shadow lengthening and waving in the rapidly dimming light.

You turn, the corner, raising up the bat.

A raven lays twitching on the ground below the window.

Your shoulders slouch, letting the weapon drag along the ground. Slowly, you approach the struggling bird, taking in its pitifully flapping wings as it lays on its back, legs kicking uselessly upwards.

“Oh, you poor thing.”

Gingerly you kneel in front of it, laying the bat aside as you gather it into your arms.

A hulking black shadow gallops across the yard, disappearing into the thick bushes with a crash.

You snatch the bat and sprint inside.

The bird doesn’t seem hurt. Its wings stretch and bend fine as they flap weakly against you, and its legs are shaky but not broken. Only its eyes betray it, flickering wildly around as frantic pants shake its entire body. You cradle its limp head, quietly shushing its cries as you hold a glass of water against its beak. It shudders, throwing its head back before swallowing. Gradually its head tilts, and it stretches its neck forward again for another long drink.

“There you go, that’s it,” you soothe, laying it on the floor with the water as you pull down a blanket, tucking it around the bird. It shudders, fluffing up its feathers before settling in, tucking its head under a wing.

You can’t help but smile at that.

With one last glance at the window, you climb into bed, bat still in hand, and try to sleep.

A raucous squawk yanks you from consciousness, followed by a crash.

“What the…oh, no.”

You leap out of bed, dashing into the kitchen to find the raven dragging a shiny pan across the floor.

“Hey, nonono, not yours.”

It squawks belligerently, hopping backwards with a glare.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Fine, then.” You pick your way around the disgruntled bird so you can pull out the can of tomatoes. “Trade?”

The bird tilts its head expectantly, letting the pan’s handle fall to the floor with a twang. You nod and fish out a tomato, dropping to a crouch to proffer it. The little devil eagerly hops forwards, snatching the food from your grasp and ripping it to pieces, spreading tomato guts all over your floor before happily taking a couple more from you.

You straighten again, regarding the bird with a discerning look. “Yeah, I think you’ll be just fine, buddy.”

You slide the jar back onto the counter and open the door with a sweeping gesture, smiling as the bird croaks joyfully, catapulting itself through the doorway and whirling in the air. You skip around the house after it, watching it whirl higher and higher before diving down into the trees and brush of the swamp.

Maybe being here won’t be so bad, after all.

But as you turn to head back inside, your entire body stiffens.

Carved into the dirt beneath your bedroom window…is a single massive footprint.

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