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groundbreaking-science · 3 years

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Section 3-2: Amplification

Warning! The following section contains exercises that may cause exhaustion, fainting, dissociation, abreaction and cardiac arrest. No exercise should be undertaken without explicit permission from a medical practitioner, and mental health support may be required for exercise 3.2.5. The reader proceeds at their own risk.

Prerequisites: Exercises in 1.4, 2.1-5, 3.1. Additionally material from section 1.9 is referenced.

The first time my father sensed the Earth and his place in it, a soft dawn was breaking. He stood shaking and gasping for air atop the world's tallest tower, with a view rivalled only by God above. A thick carpet of cloud rolled out to the horizon far below him, the very real verdant lands of Yahhoi still present and visible in glimpses between breaks, and he felt relief.

He'd spent the night screaming in deepest pain and writhing on the indifferent marble floor. He'd flickered between life and death, battling the effects of a poison he'd chosen against all advice to imbibe. It was said that the poison would draw out the drinker's latent power - should the drinker survive the process. My father, at the still tender age of sixteen, was the fifteenth warrior to try and the very first to breathe in the morning's cool air.

In that new light he felt rather than saw life stirring, and he understood the interconnectedness of his own life with the Universe around him. For the first time he sensed a power through the ki-field: the overwhelming strength and evil intent of King Piccolo. With renewed certainty in his abilities my father set out to face down that evil, and the rest is literal history.

After enduring the poison my father obtained the ability to consciously interact with the ki field. Though he wouldn't learn to amplify his abilities with any measured and focused intent for a while, needing guidance from more divine or experienced sources and more powerful, urgent motivators, every one necessitating the honing of a particular element in efficiency or technique. My father's spiritual awakening was slow-going then, though that is not an insult to his effort - even the Monk among our ragtag band took decades to fully master his unlocked potential, and I know there are towering heights I could yet reach.

It is that endless struggle that ultimately gave me the confidence to include this chapter. My current proficiency and my promise to impart certain skills make the work seem simple, but I know I have reached this level with a genetic advantage and a range of thankfully unique life experiences. Yes, nefarious forces could use this chapter to escalate their havoc by orders of magnitude, but that is a highly unlikely outcome, as I'm sorry to say the majority of readers will never achieve a level of amplification that could cause any material damage. Instead I believed it more pressing to think of those curious individuals compelled to perform the "super" techniques covered in the rest of this chapter and beyond, and these skills require ki amplification to perform safely, if at all. And besides, it would never have been fair to keep from you a skill that is considered an Earthling technique at heart.

So whilst I am no God, nor a questionable feline apothecarist making my home amongst the clouds, I am able to employ more traditional teaching methods to improve your ki output with conscious intent, rather than resorting to cryptic life-and-death experiences. And so, in a more measured way, we begin to tie together many elements you have already explored.

Before we delve back into the ki field, I wish to return to the ki we already possess - genki - and the two elements that contribute to the total energy output: the charge (energy per particle) and the flow rate (particles per second). Increasing one or both of these will increase your total genki power output.

The easiest way to achieve a step-change in power output - although impossible for many - would be to utilising a transformation. Simply growing larger means more cells need to be governed, which requires more parcels of genki to be released. You can think of the size of the centre (and therefore the centre's hypothetical surface area) increasing along with the body. A larger surface area with the same flux (flow per unit area) gives a greater power output.

Namekians are able to physically grow in size and therefore power, as demonstrated by Piccolo (the Junior) at the 23rd Martial Arts tournament. This ability is a learnt skill and under conscious control. Saiyans can also grow to gigantic proportions taking on a more ape-like form as Oozaru. Whilst this is an innate transformation and so more accessible (for Saiyans with tails, at least), it requires the reflected sunlight of a full moon to induce, and the Oozaru form does not naturally have a rational mind. Mastery and use of the form is therefore restrictive.

Earthlings on the other hand aren't known for their strength-inducing transformations; the mysterious Shapeshifting Schools utilise magic and transformations in this manner do not appear to grant a power increase. The innate transformation magic of Giants, Manwolves and similar teratoidal folk does grant an increase in power, and zoomorphic people of larger frames will have a greater genki output than the average anthropoidal person, but anthropoidal Earthlings are not granted either of these advantages (by their very definition).

However, Earthlings of all kinds do have access to one technique that will raise the ki particle flow rate: the Kaioken. Against received wisdom I will detail this technique later, if only to emphasize the dangers of trying to learn this skill away from the healing properties of the Heavenly Realm. The technique involves warping the centre's surface, therefore increasing the surface area but preserving the effective volume, allowing more ki particles through. Performed with too much gusto this technique can tear the body apart cell-by-cell, so for those of us bound to the mortal realm, mastery of this technique could take a lifetime.

There is a trade-off to these size increases, however. The pool of ki particles in your centre depletes far faster when deviating from its natural surface area and size. If all particles are used up, you will be left without a way to draw on ki, and will have to rest for an hour to fully replenish.

A further way to boost power output and to much greater effect is to increase the ki particle's average charge. Again some species have access to physical transformations that can achieve this; Frieza's race being one, where various naturally armoured and therefore lower-energy consumption forms reduce the draw on the centre's ki (both in flow rate and charge), and these forms prevent the individual from overwhelming lower ki energy folk around them.

Saiyans have access to another transformation called "Super Saiyan", one that does not increase the size of the body, but does impact every cell, creating a greater demand for charge per particle on the centre. From the combined research of scientists across the Universe, including my own, we know the transformation requires a level of circulating so-called "S-cells" in the body. In brief (as this transformation will be detailed later), high levels of emotion in the body trigger the S-cells to release a message in ki to all cells, asking them to call for more ki in readiness, in turn triggering the centre to release more ki which manifests as a transformation with recognised stages.

The final way to boost your genki output is to use a different version of genki entirely. The Gods and other non-mortals appear to use their own version of ki that is functionally the same in nearly every way, though God ki is more powerful - the reason for which remains unclear. Curiously, God ki is undetectable by mortals unless they receive specific training. Given how parallel they are, I believe then God and mortal ki to be of different chirality.

Chirality is a concept we find in nature. It is woven into the very structure of our bodies, even. When we look at ourselves in the mirror, our mirror image has the same make-up as us - the same number of blemishes on our face and hairs on our head - but there is no way to spin you around to make you look exactly like your mirror image. You and your mirror twin will always be left-right flipped as "optical isomers" of each other. Similarly, some molecules can have exactly the same chemical formula, but the structure can be left-right flipped. In our bodies, one molecule we ingest can fit snugly into a receptor and work as intended, but the optical isomer will be completely ignored (or worse, cause unpredictable damage in the body).

Mortal and God ki then, with their dyadic relationship, can be thought of as chiral mirror images. Unlike chemical optical isomers however, mortals can learn to accept and use the chiral God ki, but it is not natural and so must be unlocked in some manner and developed.

3.2.1 Raising Yuuki With Kiai

Earthlings are Universally known for their ability to change their ki output without reliable access to transformation or divinely developed techniques. Their wide emotional range and social nature can be repurposed or redirected to drive that increase in power. For an instantaneous boost of genki, we can rely on our yuuki. If you recall section 1.9, yuuki (courage) is not a true form of ki but a mechanism of bolstering the flow rate, and comes from reducing fear to free up "effort" and ki-particles and therefore energy otherwise poised to react in a more animalistic fashion to the stressors before us.

Consider the question - "when we run from a bear, do we run because we're afraid? Or are we afraid because we run?" This truth is a mix of both. Calming the mind can calm the body, yes, but changing our physiological state can also affect very real change in our emotions too, which can in turn free up mental capacity for other purposes. Likewise, amping up the body can amp up the mind and ki in tandem.

In section 2.3 we discussed kiai, the guttural yell. We slowed our breathing, using the inward and outward breaths to create a rhythm that our ki synced to. When our core tightened to yell our ki flowed steadily with the breath, expelled with the kiai. Kiai also raises yuuki, as the steady, conscious breathing slows the heart rate, reducing the physical sensations we attach to fear and therefore fear itself, a calming feedback loop. We can then think of that freed energy as released in a short, sharp burst of "courage" instead.

To practise this, perform a push intent with and without kiai. Notice the increase in strength as ki becomes more dense when paired with kiai. Then repeat the exercise, this time explicitly utilising yuuki. Calm the body to begin with, and with the freed capacity of mind, genki should be easier to focus and kiai more effective, the rush of emotion with each kiai honing the intent rather than distracting from it. Practice these four states until you can sense the difference in power, both in quality and quantity. Throughout your practice keep in mind whether your yuuki is well-maintained or not. There is no need to be perfectly physically calm every practice, only to be able to note how calm to better estimate the strength of that day's intents.

3.2.2. Yuuki - Advanced Calming

Slowing one's breathing has the ability to start a soothing chain reaction through the body. But there is a shortcut - to hack our bodily ki intents themselves, intercepting the messages intended for the heart and other systems.

To learn though we must be quiet to begin with. Sit quietly, slow your breathing, and feel the subtle pulse of ki intent that ripples with your heartbeat. Not the ki itself, as that will be flowing through the body at a near constant, rippling with the breath and heartbeat, but the change in intent that drives the heartbeat. This ripple will track back to the upper-right of the heart (close to the body's centre-line) to the pacemaker cells which control the heart's contractions, and will spread from the pacemaker cells to the rest of the heart. These are the intents we must intercept.

Follow these ripples and imagine them slowing - I think of a soothe intent to envelope and slow the beat intent, and before long you'll feel your heartbeat begin to slow too. The other physical symptoms of fear will leave you as the mechanisms triggering them unwind, freeing your mind and therefore affording you yuuki to use for ki manipulation. With familiarity you'll be able to track these ripples when under huge mental and physical stress.

It should go without saying that upsetting homeostatic equilibrium is extremely dangerous. This technique should only be performed for a few seconds before you let the body drive itself again. I only ever use this technique as a kick to my system, like a full-body shiver to reset. Slowing the heart too much will leave you breathless, drop your blood pressure and cause you to faint. Playing too harshly with pacemaker cells directly could cause them to fall out of sync, triggering cardiac arrest.

The next question both the curious and antagonistic among you will ask is whether this same soothe intent will work on others to incapacitate them. The answer is yes but, thankfully, there is an inbuilt difficulty; these homeostatic intents written with a ki signature are so tightly bound to that person's subconscious that overriding the messages takes considerable skill. I know of one assassin using this method to trigger cardiac arrest, and the genki "injection" must be delivered with great, well-practised precision within close-range. Miss and the assassin is wide open for a counter. I do not recommend developing this technique both for the safety of others and your own.

3.2.3 Field Ki

Genki manipulation has its limits. We have a finite amount of genki (created from chemical (food) energy) and a finite number of ki particles to assign it too. So there is a maximum amount of genki that we can release in one instant and whilst substantial, it is most unsustainable.

Instead the most reliable, near limitless way to amplify ki is to increase the charge per particle by converting genki to field ki (banoki). In section 1.9 we discussed the ki field; how the ki field is a lower energy state consisting of a soup of decayed and garbled ki energy separated from us by a barrier of ki particles. In 2.2 we visited the surface of the ki field to read the ripples created by the ki of others. Now we will reach through that undulating surface to harness the ki energy beyond.

Find a comfortable and well-centred position. Lower yourself to the ki-field as when learning to read the ki-signatures of those outside of auratic contact (exercise 2.2.2). Feel the waves of others, those vibrations, and settle 'above' them. Remember, your spirit is tethered to this reality by its very existence, so it would take a deliberate act to cut that tie and fall in. I'd hope by now you would be familiar with this exercise and such visualisations would be of little use, but for now attend to the ripples to aid the next step.

Now, you must expend a little effort and genki. Let your mind follow your decaying genki down to the field and visualise yourself penetrating the waves' surface with a hollow reed of ki, finding your way between the surface of empty ki particles at the still spots between the waves. A through or part intent works well here. Your genki and the field ki energy will meet through the imagined reed. The link will feel tenuous at first, as both your effort and genki used in the process will render the exercise counterproductive in net ki, but do not fret - with a little practice you will break even and then excel.

Once the connection is established, you will need to gather field ki. Imagine the reed straw you've made growing roots, spreading through the endless sea of field ki below to efficiently fill the space. Imagine those fine tendrils reaching, your ki signature spilling out as genki converts to give a semblance of structure in the field ki. Then, suck that captured ki back through the reed, palming it into your very real hands. Retrieving the ki can be tricky - overextend and your fine genki root system will break, essentially wasting that genki as it breaks down far too fast. Spread too little and, whilst safe, some genki will be wasted, unable to touch field ki and convert. Take your time - the amplification will come. Aim to be able to repeat this cycle of reaching and capture as a smooth, continuous flow. When this convoluted process becomes second nature, amplification can be achieved with a simple boost or swell intent.

3.2.4 Storing and Moving Ki

At first, this mix of kis will be heavy and unwieldy to move between foci as your ki signature is weakened through the mass. The usually chatty and fast to react genki will take a while to send intents through the rest of the more neutral ki, the genki acting as lit touchpaper. The best way to manage this mass of ki is to maintain the "rootlike" structure of genki through the mass, enabling fast communication between genki and the furthest section of field ki.

To practice, focus genki between your hands and swell the mass. As you sense the energy convert, try to send the ball of ki from left to right between your hands. Notice how, as you continue to amplify (and at first even lose total ki energy during the conversion) this movement increases in difficulty, demonstrating that as the fraction of genki energy in the focussed ball lessens, it takes more time to propagate your intent from the ordered, ki-signature laden genki to the unstructured mass of field ki.

Notice too, that if you were to apply for example a push intent, the strength of the ability would falter at first, the genki now having to learn how to send out this particular intent as well as apply it to itself. You will be frustratingly back to those early days of learning the basic intents. With time and practice though your skill and dexterity with intents will return - and faster this time around. When you've matched your previous skill level across a variety of intents when using only a tenth or less of the genki usually required without field ki, you will be ready to move on.

In the heat of the moment more powerful techniques will require more ki than can be created instantaneously, necessitating you to charge up the ki intent. There is a fine balance to be had between adjusting your genki flow as and when you need it for amplification, versus letting your mind work on autopilot at a fixed conversion rate to over-produce ki. The former of course saves you energy, but the micro-management could make you slower to counter. It is therefore prudent to know how to amplify and store that ki for later. If charging and amplifying a specific attack, of course bring ki to the focus in question, but to be ready at a moment's notice to push, to explode upwards to fly and to guard, you will need to store ki in an aura.

The fundamentals of this particular technique were covered in exercise 2.4.5, but to recap, use your centre as a focus, but this time expel ki. The ki should surround you in an approximate sphere, ready to be gathered into external foci like hands or feet, to report back to you nearby danger, or to create a near-instantaneous barrier. Remember when charging to use a hold intent too, otherwise the genki, untasked, will degrade. This technique is named "aura-shoring". When performed at high ki energy densities, ki will spontaneously interact with the world, creating an impressive and intimidating visible glow around the body.

3.2.5 Raising Shouki

We don't only trade genki for field ki during amplification. We expend effort to maintain spiritual calmness, shouki. If yuuki is the calmness between mind and body, shouki is our self-assuredness, the calmness between mind and ki. The stronger our connection between mind and ki, the easier amplification becomes. As discussed in 1.9, disrupting this link by agitating an opponent through very incisive taunts will knock their power-level down considerably, as they will be unable to efficiently convert genki to field ki. Now we wish to raise our own shouki.

To do so we must get in contact with our spiritual selves - not necessarily in a religious manner, but to know and speak our own truth. For my father, his brush with death was enough for his young self to begin to attend to that spiritualness, but you do not need to go to such extremes.

Mindfulness, the ability to just be in the present, comes easier to some than others. Mindfulness is not the ability to empty the mind, for that can be frustrating to achieve as worries for the day pop in and out. Instead we must notice those thoughts, the emotional and physical feelings, and maintain curiosity toward them before setting them aside for the moment. This benign distance affords us the ability to take stock. Spending time attending to how genki moves through our body and the environment around us can also assist in this mindfulness process. It is a focus on the here and now, and is something we can do alongside other exercises.

Mindfulness however is not dissociation, where we disown thoughts and experiences as not happening or not our own as a defense mechanism. And that leads me to a warning. For individuals dealing with dissociation as a result of, for example, psychological trauma, forcing the mind back in the body can cause an abreaction and worsen your state of mind. If you find you have constant bad reactions to mindfulness, or exercises and martial arts that encourage this open state of mind, then please seek professional support before continuing further. I know of one individual who broke through life-long trauma through sheer force of will, but it took him decades and could have ended poorly. However, dealing with the emotional block monumentally improved his raw power through yuuki and shouki, so your mental health is worth working on in whatever capacity you can. I also speak from experience. Fluctuating shouki was a difficulty I had in my childhood, and it took a lot of self-compassion and support from family and friends to let go of the guilt a child can swallow when they do not know any better. Simple grounding exercises - feeling the earth between your toes, naming sounds, colours and smells in the world around you - can suffice to bolster shouki somewhat in the meanwhile, and was the technique I used until I could be truly still and in the moment.

I told you once that I made the fortuitous decision to sit cross legged over seiza for twenty hours of a twenty-five hour ceremony. This ceremony, to unlock my fullest potential, required me to keep very still at a time I wanted to do anything but; my friends and family were in grave danger, some even passing away in the meanwhile, and the god performing the magic did not come across as particularly competent. As the hours ticked by I felt no different, only frustrated and wrestling with all my concerns with little else to distract me. It was only as my anger boiled over that I felt the ease at which ki enveloped my clench fists, and I understood the power of stillness. Whilst I know the silent magic of the god played a more than substantial part in my increase in power, I know holding out hope for Earth while confronting myself and my fears during those endless hours did play some part in repairing and raising my shouki, and I am grateful for that time to reflect. I hope you can find this time, too.

With every possible type of amplification in your knowledge and the most accessible at your disposal, it is now time to relearn all techniques with field ki in the mix. I know, I know it feels a step backward, but trust me, this step is a huge leap forward, and will give you access to all the work following on. When - or if - you can amplify the strength of your techniques by a factor of two with only a tenth of the genki available, you will be ready to proceed to the next section on guarding.

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aoiberi · 3 years

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sailing to the top ch. 6 snippet

“So,” Kageyama started, trying to mask his nervous eagerness with indifference. “What now? You do know that the press won’t stop bothering you until you reveal everything.”

“Hmm,” Hinata hummed. “It’ll be no fun if we just sit and down and go ‘surprise!’”

“Of course,” Kageyama deadpanned.

Hinata giggled.

“What?”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if everyone was expecting a boyfriend reveal, but it turned out you were my fiancé or something?”

The setter stiffened and looked down at Hinata who was still scrolling through his phone in casual gesture, as if remarking about the weather. “W-What if…” Kageyama cleared his throat. Citrus-scented waves lightly tickled his cheeks, soft and warm, smelling of summer days and all its vibrance. Gazing down, he could clearly count each individual freckle, a constellation dusting his nose and cheeks, as if the stars couldn’t all be contained in his eyes and found home on sunkissed skin. God, he loved this man. “Let’s do it.”

“Hm? Do what?” Shouyou asked offhandedly, still absorbed in the content on his phone.

“Get engaged.”

And finally, Kageyama had his boyfriend’s attention.

“Huuh?!” Hinata straightened abruptly, gripping Kageyama’s forearm in alarm. “W-W-What?!”

Kageyama flicked his boyfriend’s forehead. “You’re the one who brought it up first, dumbass.”

Hinata blushed furiously, “Y-Yeah…But…”

The setter raised a brow, “What, so you didn’t mean it?”

“O-Of course I meant it, Bakayama! But…”

“But….?”

The remaining shock flickered and wavered, dying down as it was replaced with resolve and a typical fire. Honey-tinted eyes looked up intensely into cobalt ones, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Of course, Kageyama had already been thinking about proposing. He just didn’t know where to even begin.

His boyfriend was a simple person through and through, fancy clothes and elegant dinner dates a nemesis to the loud and energetic whirlwind that was Hinata Shouyou. When requesting help from his senpais, Suga-san suggested a picnic. It was a great idea, the only problem being the lack of privacy. While private reservations were possible at restaurants, the open nature was free for everyone. Suffice to say, Kageyama did not know how he would propose, only that he wanted to.

As a last resort, he had texted Kenma, begrudgingly admitting that the former setter would know what Hinata would like best.

KENMA

kenma: the best proposal for shouyou would be one that isn’t a surprise.

kenma: if u were to surprise him with a ring and shou didn’t have one prepared for u

kenma: i think deep down he would feel a little sad that he didnt have a ring to give u too

kenma: idk if that makes things harder or easier for u but i don’t think u need to worry about planning a surprise or smth complicated. if anything, just go ring shopping together and make a casual date out of it. i think he would really like that.

kageyama: that helps a lot. thank you kenma

kenma: np, gl kageyama

And Kageyama knew Kenma was right. But, given that, casually remarking his desire to get engaged seemed just as difficult as planning an elaborate surprise.

However, Hinata had, unknowingly, granted him an opening, and it was a moment of pure spontaneity. Intoxicated by summer smells and sunkissed skin, Kageyama had blurted out his proposal, and Hinata had accepted it with a breathtaking grin and tender kiss. It was the best spontaneous decision Kageyama had ever made. It couldn’t have been more perfect…more them.

True to Kenma’s word, Hinata had loved the idea of a ring shopping date. The ginger had gotten eagerly dressed for their day out, stuffing his bright hair into an inconspicuous cap and throwing a mask onto Kageyama’s face before excitedly rushing themselves out the door.

“Now we can give rings to each other at the same time! How perfect is that!” Hinata skipped, swinging their interlocked hands as they easily maneuvered through the Tokyo crowd.

Kageyama smiled, his hand tightening around Hinata’s. “I had wanted to surprise you with it, but I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

Hinata pouted, “But if you surprised me, then that means you would’ve beaten me!”

“Huuuh?” Kageyama stared at his boyfriend, bafflement etched in furrowed brows. “Proposing isn’t a competition!”

“Bakageyama! Shh!” Hinata yelled, covering the setter’s mouth with his free hand. “I know we’re disguised right now, but what if people recognize you through your scary voice!”

The setter tried to express his disbelief through his practiced glare. Shaking his head, he let out a loud huff through his nose. “enma ‘asight.”

Hinata removed his hand, “Huh?”

Kageyama rolled his eyes. “I said Kenma was right.”

“About what?”

“He said you would want to present rings together rather than me surprise you because you’d be sad if I were the only one who had a ring ready.” With his free hand, he cuffed the ginger on the head, “But he never said anything about you making it a competition, boke.”

Hinata giggled, “It was probably implied.”

Kageyama sighed and pulled his boyfriend along, unable to form a reply to such idiocy. Although, he probably would have felt the same way if Hinata proposed first, but he would never admit that; he had a reputation to uphold as the smarter half of their relationship. He was a genius, after all.

After allowing himself to be dragged a few paces, Hinata suddenly pulled back, tugging Kageyama’s arm to a halt. The setter turned. “What?”

“I have an idea!” A grin lit up Hinata’s face, “If we buy the rings separately and give them to each other at the end of the day, it’ll still be kind of a surprise!”

“Huh?”

“We won’t know what kind of rings we’re gonna receive, so the element of surprise is still there! It’ll be fun! Okay?” And before Tobio could reply, Hinata had already run off. “I’ll meet you at the park at 6!” he yelled with a last wave.

With a sigh, Kageyama stared as the black cap hiding the conspicuous ginger hair slowly got lost in the crowd. Glancing at the time, he had roughly four hours to find a ring, and he was going to find a damn perfect one.

Four hours later, he made his way to the park, his heart clutched in his hand in form of a small, black box. The raven walked toward a bench where a familiar silhouette sat. As he drew closer, the figure looked up and stood. A gentle breeze lightly ruffled ginger waves and freckled cheeks lifted in an uncharacteristic shy smile, “Hi, Tobio.” He held up a ball that was by his side. “Want to play?”

With the silhouette cast by the setting sun, Kageyama had assumed the ball was a volleyball because what else could it be? However, when he nodded and walked closer, he realized it was a soccer ball. The bashful smile gone and replaced with a competitive grin the setter knew all too well, what could he do but mirror that resolve. Soccer it was.

Unfortunately, pure force of will and volleyball genius did not translate into coordinated footwork. In fact, volleyball genius instinctively reached for the ball with outstretched hands when the infuriatingly natural athlete that was Hinata Shouyou would kick the ball into a perfect arc in the air.

“You can’t touch the ball, Bakayama!” Hinata would yell, a loud laugh following.

Kageyama would reply by setting the ball to his head.

The game of soccer was quickly attempted and forgotten, and the ball rested between their feet as the two volleyball athletes relaxed against a tree. In the distance, the sun kissed the horizon, and as if hearings its own confession, the sky glowed with the sweetest blush. The clouds blossomed pink and golden rays caressed the earth with soft tranquility. The summer breeze danced across the grass, lightly kissing the hairs of those it passed by and leaving it frivolously tousled. Tobio ran long, pale fingers through the soft, ginger locks, further messing what the wind left behind. “Shou?”

“Hmm?”

“Did I ever tell you what my Jii-san told me?”

“That you’d meet someone who would be better than you at volleyball?”

Kageyama hummed. He gently dislodged Hinata’s head from his shoulder and turned to grab both his hands, now sitting face-to-face. “Yeah… When I first heard that, I hated it: hated the thought of someone being better, the thought of losing. But when it came to you, I never minded losing.” He looked down at their intertwined hands, unable to stare directly into those brown eyes, a dark amber that glowed with a vibrant warmth reminiscent of sweet love, indomitable spirit, and childlike grins. “I-I mean…I don’t enjoy losing. But…it doesn’t feel bad when it’s to you. It makes me feel more…motivated and it’s…nice,” he finished dumbly.

Hinata snorted, though it was with a fond smile and slightly damp eyes. “That’s because you’re just competitive” He sniffed and rubbed his eyes roughly. “Baka Bakayama,” he muttered, clutching at Kageyama’s sleeve tightly. “Making me cry with all your…words.”

The setter smiled as he lifted a hand to gently wipe a falling tear. Shouyou leaned into the touch.

Kageyema shifted to present the box he had shoved in his pocket. “Uhm,” he began awkwardly. “I know people normally wear their engagement rings on their hands…”

Hinata laughed, “Yes, Tobio. That’s where rings usually go.”

The setter glared at his boyfriend. Shouyou giggled harder but nudged Kageyama to continue, eyes gentle and fond.

Kageyama cleared his throat, “As I was saying…” He opened the box and carefully took out the ring. Hinata gasped as a gold chain followed. “I didn’t know when exactly you wanted to go public with our relationship, but it’s difficult to wear a ring and hide it. But necklaces are easier…”

“Oh, Tobio,” Hinata breathed, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. But before Kageyama could continue, the ginger had started to fumble with his pocket and hastily pulled a similar sized box. The setter observed curiously as Shouyou also opened the box and took out a ring. His eyes widened when he saw a similar chain follow.

“I also asked if they had a chain for the ring.” Hinata blushed as he let the chain dangle from his fingers, metal glinting as it caught the sun intermittently as the breeze swayed the ring back and forth. “Not because I wanted you to hide it or anything,” he added hurriedly. “I just thought, since we can’t wear jewelry when we play, it might be harder to lose the ring if it were on a chain…” The ginger clutched the necklace nervously and slightly lowered his hand, “But now I’m realizing it’s a stupid reason because a necklace is basically just as small as a ring, and it would still be easy to lose. So technically there was no point in getting the ring as a neckl—”

“I love it.” Tobio quickly cut off Shouyou’s rambling. He held up his own necklace-ring, unclasping it, and put it around Hinata’s neck. “Love you.”

Tears streamed freely down Shouyou’s face as he, too, clasped the necklace around the setter’s neck, “Surprise, Tobio.”

Tobio chuckled. “You’re a dumbass,” he whispered, slowly leaning in.

“But I’m your dumbass,” Shouyou smiled cheekily with shimmering eyes and damp cheeks.

“Just shut up,” Kageyama muttered.

The ginger giggled though it was quickly swallowed by a kiss.

Unfortunately, their week-long break had come to an end, and goodbyes, no matter how common, never became easier. But this time, they departed as fiancés, a physical promise of their forever hidden under clothes, away from prying eyes, but closer to heart.

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #ao3 writer #kagehina #haikyuu!!

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eyreguide · 4 years

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The Sun and the Moon in Jane Eyre

(Art by Jane Freeman)

The symbolism of the sun and the moon in Jane Eyre is quite interesting to me. I believe there have been many interpretive thoughts published on the topic - especially regarding the moon and femininity - but my thoughts on the subject run a little more specific to the characters of Jane and Rochester. I feel like the moon and the sun represents the ideals of their romantic relationship in intriguing ways.

The Sun

“Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.” (Chapter IV)

The sun and the moon have traditionally symbolized the yin and the yang of dynamic relationships - with the sun embodying “masculine” qualities and the moon “feminine”. It’s a very limited way of judging any of these constructs, but in Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë often represents Mr. Rochester by the sun, while Jane is represented by the moon.

The sun symbolically holds connotations of energy, determination, liveliness, and arrogance. It represents force and the ego - elements that can easily be seen in Mr. Rochester’s character. And it is something that Jane also finds appealing - an aspect of her personality that is not wanting exactly but not being sustained. The quote “Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine” comes from early in the story - when Jane remarks that Bessie reading and singing to her brings a measure of happiness to her life at Gateshead she does not usually experience. Here, Jane equates the sun with happiness, and it foreshadows Mr. Rochester’s place in her life.

On her walk to post a letter in Hay for Mrs. Fairfax, Jane takes the opportunity to revel in nature, freedom, and sunshine as she “lingered till the sun went down amongst the trees, and sank crimson and clear behind them.” (Chapter XII) Of course, this is the prelude to Jane and Rochester’s first encounter and sets the stage for them to meet when there is a “rising moon; pale yet as a cloud, but brightening momentarily”. (Chapter XII) A meeting of the sun and the moon.

The Moon

“Turn back: on so lovely a night it is a shame to sit in the house; and surely no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus at meeting with moonrise.” (Chapter XXIII)

The moon’s “feminine” symbolic qualities are often seen as delicate, soulful, passive, and insightful. The moon reflects the sun so there is an aspect of reflection - on the past and on emotions.

In Jane Eyre the moon can sometimes be a mother figure to Jane - as in this description of Miss Temple finding Jane and Helen:

“Some heavy clouds, swept from the sky by a rising wind, had left the moon bare; and her light, streaming in through a window near, shone full both on us and on the approaching figure, which we at once recognised as Miss Temple.” (Chapter VIII)

Also in Jane’s moment of suffering and grief after finding out about Bertha Mason - when in her dream the bright moon resolves into a white figure that tells Jane to “flee temptation”. (Chapter XXVII) There is often a rising, brightening, or waxing moon described when Jane is about to experience or do something important. Jane first sees Mr. Rochester in the light of the moon on Hay Lane: “Something of daylight still lingered, and the moon was waxing bright: I could see him plainly.” (Chapter XII).

The moon gets its own chance to shine and seems to predict significant things for Jane’s character - bringing her insight and nurturing qualities. Something she posesses but also needs. Her balance in the relationship with Rochester feeds off of the moon’s energies, especially because Mr. Rochester so emphatically denotes the sun’s forceful qualities.

When Jane wants to see Mr. Rochester clearly, it seems she needs her element to do so. When Mr. Rochester proposes, she is doubtful of his feelings and says “Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight.” (Chapter XXIII) Many of the mysterious occurrences at Thornfield occur in the moonlight - obviously to enhance the shadowy Gothic angle of the story - but it is an opportunity for Jane to realize the truth and become perceptive.

Solar Eclipse

“What is the matter?” he asked; “all the sunshine is gone.” (Chapter XXIV)

During Jane and Rochester’s courtship, there are compelling and suggestive combinations of symbolism for the sun and the moon. This indicates a true meeting of minds and as the story develops it shows what happens when the sun and the moon meet. As in the case of the solar eclipse, the moon holds more “power” as it blocks the sun.

Jane craves “the sunshine of feeling” (Chapter XXII) she receives from Mr. Rochester, and early in their relationship, Rochester seems to hold the most appeal and power as his kindness and geniality “warm[s] one like a fostering sunbeam.” (Chapter XVIII) But in the scene where Jane finally gets to speak her mind and reveal her true feelings, the stage for the proposal is set with the moon coming into “modest” power:

“Where the sun had gone down in simple state—pure of the pomp of clouds—spread a solemn purple, burning with the light of red jewel and furnace flame at one point, on one hill-peak, and extending high and wide, soft and still softer, over half heaven. The east had its own charm or fine deep blue, and its own modest gem, a casino and solitary star: soon it would boast the moon; but she was yet beneath the horizon.” (Chapter XXIII)

Even Mr. Rochester acknowledges Jane’s power when he says the next day: “You glowed in the cool moonlight last night, when you mutinied against fate, and claimed your rank as my equal.” (Chapter XXIV) And in one of my favorite moments in the book, Mr. Rochester quips with Adele that he will take Mademoiselle to live with him on the moon.

Yet the sun is not quite forgotten, as during their engagement, Mr. Rochester calls Jane a “little sunny-faced girl with the dimpled cheek and rosy lips.” (Chapter XXIV) And much later, while blind and maimed he claims that “All the melody on earth is concentrated in my Jane’s tongue to my ear (I am glad it is not naturally a silent one): all the sunshine I can feel is in her presence.” (Chapter XXXVII)

Jane seems to reflect the sun now, and takes on some of it’s aspects of commanding energy now that she is with Mr. Rochester. Their love is built on a compatibility that brings together their individual traits in ways that complete each other. They temper each other and reinforce the idea of the yin and yang - two contrary forces that are a complement to the other and illustrate interconnectedness in a romantic relationship.

“I was in my own room, and sitting by the window, which was open: it soothed me to feel the balmy night-air; though I could see no stars and only by a vague, luminous haze, knew the presence of a moon. I longed for thee, Janet! (Chapter XXXVII)

#Jane Eyre #Charlotte Bronte #Literary Analysis #Symbolism #Sun and Moon

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stark-web-warriors · 5 years

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Stark Contrast [Chapter One]

Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 6,557

Warnings: N/A

Chapter Summary: Y/N is trying to settle into her new life while attending her first day of school at Midtown School of Science and Technology, where she is bombarded for being Tony Stark’s daughter. She is overwhelmed, but finds solace in the kindness of her dad’s intern Peter and the open arms of his friends Ned and MJ.

A/N: I’m so excited to finally get this story started!!! I really wanted to make things still unknown and uncomfortable and to introduce characters slowly so we really get to see the relationships forming. If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, reblog this with “Stark Contrast Tag List” in the notes and I‘ll add your username. Members of the tag list MUST reblog. I look forward to your feedback, friends!

Chapter One The brilliant lights came on automatically as she woke up. Y/N still wasn’t used to that. She opened her eyes to watch as the curtains rose up and revealed the beautiful morning sunrise on the horizon. “Good Morning. It is 6:30 am. The weather is 74 degrees with scattered clouds,” Jarvis began the morning protocol as the tired teen began to slump out of bed, making her way toward what, to Y/N, was the largest wardrobe ever. It wasn’t full. Not even close, but it had expanded from her modest 5 favorite tees to be a bit more well rounded since moving into the Avengers Facility. It had only been a couple of weeks, but Tony had been restlessly trying to make things as normal as possible for Y/N. He just didn’t necessarily know what “normal" was.

She’d gone to public school her whole life. It wasn’t as rough as everyone seems to think, but it wasn’t exactly glamorous either. She told Tony she’d be fine going to Midtown High with all the public school dwellers, but he insisted on sending her to the Midtown School of Science and Technology, a private STEM school. It wasn’t exactly her cup of tea, but Stark’s intern, Peter, whom she had seen in passing only a handful of times, attended the organization and Tony seemed to think they could look out for each other. It seemed like a strange arrangement. Peter was a scrawny 16-year-old kid, Y/N was 17 and incapable of completing a push-up drill. What could they do to protect each other that the school wouldn’t already be doing? Still, it was nice knowing there was someone with an incentive to be on her side if things did go horribly awry.

“Road conditions are normal. Mild traffic. I suggest leaving by 7:20 to get to school by 7:53,” Jarvis continued as Y/N pulled her best sarcastic t-shirt out alongside her leather jacket. It was as good as anything for the first day at a new school in which she’d be completely out of her element. “And miss Y/N,” Jarvis continued. It was an addition to his normal wake-up protocol and slightly jarred the girl as she struggled with her skinny jeans. She was surprised that he was still going. “Have a good first day of school,” Jarvis finished. Y/N smiled at the corner of her mouth. The idea that Jarvis, a mere computer program, had enough personality to want to wish her well was absolutely crazy. Some might even find it frightening, but Y/N found it endearing and appreciated the sentiment.

After lacing up her red converse, an item that would always be a staple in her closet whether they were in fashion at the time or not, Y/N hurried to get breakfast. The metal hardware on her trusty old jacket clinked as she jogged down the empty hall to the kitchen. It was an open design, so she supposed it was a dining room, too. Overall, the inhabitants of the tower just called it “the mess hall” as a reference to the number of people who use it during the day. Of course, one tiny kitchen wasn’t enough to house an entire team of Avengers. They all had kitchenettes in their individual rooms, so if they were in the mess hall, it was usually a social appearance. And like always, when she entered the wide open room, there was Steve Rogers making his, as he sat at the breakfast bar with his nose buried in a giant newspaper and a steaming coffee within an arms reach.

Y/N hadn’t really spoken to any of the Avengers yet, which was understandable. They all kept busy schedules and she was kind of irrelevant to the work they did, but Steve Rogers was a creature of habit. He went for a run at 5 am every morning. At 6:30 he’d pick up the daily paper he insisted get dropped off, which was a work out in itself to jog all the way down the drive to the outside of the security perimeter to get something he could have just pulled up on his tablet. Then he’d come to the mess hall, make himself a no-nonsense black coffee and read the paper front to back. So it was purely situational that Steve Rogers was the Avenger Y/N had spoken to most. It was like having your super young, super hot grandpa at the breakfast table, talking about the news articles he read in the paper, occasionally complaining that there were too many pictures these days and that in his day they wouldn’t have insulted the writers with such showmanship. It was usually at that point that Tony would lean across the breakfast bar and make a shady quip about Cap being old.

Behind the wide open newspaper, Y/N could see Pepper and Tony in the kitchen making a waffle breakfast. Seeing a literal billionaire making a modest meal was a sight to see, but Pepper said it kept him humble. For that matter, it seemed like they enjoyed it. It meant they got to spend time together. Not a CEO with a company to run and a superhero with responsibilities to fulfil. In these moments, they got to be Pepper and Tony, a complex and often confusing but ultimately loving couple. The way Tony smiled at his love as they moved about caused Y/N’s heart to flutter as she entered the room. From what she could tell, they really brought out the best in each other, especially Pepper. She had been so encouraging in these first rocky weeks of Tony and Y/N figuring out what their relationship is and how it should be, and such great emotional support in their struggles. If there was a hero of heroes in this entire Avengers Facility, it was Pepper Potts.

“First day of school!” Pepper exclaimed as Y/N sat down next to Steve, doing some oddly unexcited jazz hands beside her head. Pepper had been trying so hard, and as far as Y/N was concerned, she seemed to have the whole “awkward mom” thing down to an art. Still, it put a smile on Y/N’s face. “How are you feeling?” Pepper asked as she opened the steaming waffle maker before her. It was strange to Y/N to just walk into a homemade breakfast before school, but she found it charming and appreciated it all the same.

“Indifferent,” Y/N stated after a beat of thought. Pepper seemed unsure what to respond and instead chose to smile and nod while shoving a plated waffle in front of Y/N. It was a strange state of mind Y/N found herself in. She felt like she should be nervous to be starting a new school where she didn’t know anyone, or the area, or anything a private school student probably should know, but at the end of the day, it was just school. She’d done school before and she knew the game. It’d come to her naturally.

Tony, in an attempt to not acknowledge the uncomfortable exchange, interjected, “Hey Steve, you want a waffle?” He jutted out another waffle across the bar toward the well-postured gentleman. Slowly Steve lowered the newspaper until his eyes just peeked over it to stare down Tony. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. This one fell on the floor anyway, so…” Tony trailed off as he lowered the plate to the tabletop. Suddenly he looked back up, quizzing Cap, “What’s so interesting in that paper anyway?”

“You,” Rogers replied nonchalantly, folding the paper and turning it around to reveal a photograph of a young, clearly intoxicated Tony Stark under a headline that read, ‘Scandal, Disgrace, Sex: Tony Stark’s Illegitimate Daughter Exposed’. It was clear Steve had done this as a favor, and still, Y/N choked on a bite of waffle.

“Well, shit!” Y/N exclaimed as she both struggle to breathe through the food in her airway and struggle to speak around the rest of the bite. Before she could examine the piece, Tony had snatched the paper out of Steve’s hands. His eyes flew through lines of text, and he muttered as he skimmed.

“Son of a bitch,” Tony muttered as he continued to glance through the article. As he completed the column he threw the paper down on the table, looking up at Y/N directly. She furrowed her brow as she testy looking man tapped his finger on the table. his face was turning red and she could tell he was trying to keep his composure. It agonized her. Her curiosity and her own anxieties made her want to ask what it was right away, but her gut said to give Tony a moment to compose himself. Tony suddenly looked down at the paper on the table and gave a long exhale before looking back up and speaking. “Goldberg. Seems he was really desperate to get his name out there.” Tony turned the paper around and slid it toward Y/N, gesturing to the text as he claimed, “It’s all there. Your mother, the party we met at. Against all confidentiality laws, your name, age, location… The only thing he doesn’t have is a picture. And worst of all, he makes it out like he is the hero of the story.”

“I pretty sure Y/N’s leaked identity is worse,” Steve interjected seriously, setting the coffee he had neglected to sip back down on the table. The man adjusted his legs and leaned forward onto his arms. “We need a plan to keep Y/N safe,” he insisted. “She’s been exposed, and by all practical purposes she’s a civilian.”

“But she’s not just a civilian,” Tony argued, “She’s a kid—my kid—and I’ll be damned if anyone does anything to her as an attempt to get to me.” Y/N was shocked to hear Tony calling her ‘his kid’ is such a protective manner. He’d only known her for a couple of weeks at this point, and it felt weird, uncomfortable even. Still, she had never dealt with the notion of being Avenger bait, so she felt it best to let the man go through his process. “Fine!” Tony yelled, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in the air. As Tony Stark wordlessly ran out of the room, Y/N felt it best to just finish the damn waffle.

By 7:17 am and Y/N was beginning to worry she would be late. Which for embarrassment sake, she really didn’t want. She was glad Steve was trying to distract her, telling the story about the time he punched the real Adolph Hitler. It was extremely embellished and was comparable to listening to your grandfather tell the same story from Vietnam for the quadrillionth time, but it was charming coming from the spry man with the perfect teeth. He was just explaining his brilliant getaway involving a bottle cap, a toothpick, and some explosive fertilizer when Tony walked by, hollering, “Follow me, kid,” without so much as a glance toward Y/N. She looked at Steve with a slightly confused glance before hopping out of her chair and jogging to the hall to catch up with Tony. She felt like she was trotting to keep up with his brisk pace as she began to follow beside him. “This,” Tony began, clumsily pulling a mysterious item out of his inner jacket pocket, “is a standard issue Stark wrist communicator.” He held out an item that looked like an Apple watch if an Apple watch had been knocked up by the iron man armor and given birth to the future. “It is a touchscreen,” Stark explained, “but I also uploaded Jarvis to the mainframe. I’ve set it up to notify me at any hint of distress. If your vitals spike, I’ll know. If you send a distress signal I’ll know. If you need to contact me, all you have to do is smack it, just make sure you completely cover the face. Think of it like speed-dial.”

Tony paused for a moment in the main lobby where Y/N had waited anxiously that first day. He held out his hand and Y/N complied by setting her wrist on his open palm. The man pressed the square watch face to her skin and before her eyes, it expanded into a full-fledged metal brace. The face was surrounded by anodized gold hardware that led way to the armor-like plates of red metal that telescoped out of each other and encased the girl’s wrist. She was now in possession of one of the most advanced devices on earth and had virtually no idea how to use it. She wasn’t even sure how to take it off, but Tony was in such a hurry that he had already moved on, rushing toward the main entrance. Y/N took one last moment to admire the strong looking tech on her arm before taking off out the front doors with Tony. As the two exited a silver sports-car bearing the Audi rings across the grate pulled up the drive and stopped right in their path.

“This is my 2008 Audi R8. She might be old, but she’s got plenty of tricks up her sleeve. Jarvis can connect to the vehicle from your com-link, you don’t even have to drive. It’ll take you anywhere you want to go and automatically take the best route possible. You can hail it from up to a mile away using your wrist communicator.” Tony stopped, pulled an expensive looking key fob out of his pants pocket and tossed it at Y/N. She almost missed it in her shock but snapped out of it fast enough to catch the small black object.

The man smiled and started jogging back inside, causing Y/N to turn around and call back, “Can I drive it?” Among all the features of a self-driving, completely automated car, he neglected to mention the most important part to any teenager: the freedom factor.

“Are you licensed?” Tony asked before slowly stepped behind him, moving backwards.

“Yes,” Y/N called back uncertainly. Tony simply raised his eyebrows and shrugged in response before he spun around, trotting to the large glass doors. Y/N carefully looked down at the small black object in her hand and turned it over to see the logo imprinted on the side. The attached key jingled and she was overcome with a smile. Turning back up to the vehicle that, although was old enough to not be the most sought after model, still looked like pristine money. “Yes!” The teen exclaimed as she ran around to the driver’s side and slid into Tony’s old car, of which she was sure he had many. The interior was dark leather, and the console had clearly been redone by Stark. Lines of thin blue lights detailed the edges of the console, and the after-market touchscreen display lit up with Jarvis’s systems when she got in.

“Preparing to take you to Midtown School of Science and Technology, Miss Y/N,” the computer notified her through the aged speaker system.

Eagerly, Y/N responded, “Just get me the map, Jarvis. I’ll take the wheel on this one.” She was switching gears before she had even finished speaking, so excited to take off in this ageless car she had seen so many times in movies and being driven by celebrities. It was a privilege she had yet to know, having her own car. She may have had her license, but never sole ownership of her own vehicle. She could go anywhere she wanted to in that thing, with full control over the radio, and for Tony’s sake, Jarvis as her only passenger. It was an escape plan first and foremost, she knew. Tony wanted her to have a fast and reliable way out if she was ever in trouble, but the fact remained as she floored the gas down the long drive of the Avengers Facility, he had simultaneously handed her independence in the form of a coupe.

Y/N violently swung into an open parking spot, flaunting the rich-looking car for no one but herself. Stark could have given her an old, barely working Toyota and she would have been just as happy. The Audi though, it was just old enough to be out of style, which she liked, and still screamed that she was a force to be reckoned with. Y/N pulled her heavy backpack from the passenger seat and flung it over her right shoulder and took a deep breath. She had no idea what awaited her, but against all social rules, she felt prepared for anything. Y/N tugged on the door handle and pushed her way out into the sunshine. The warmth immediately brushed her cheek. She glanced around at all the student groups in the parking lot sharing their summer stories. At least she was starting at the beginning of the school year. The teen confidently strode toward the front door of the school, passing by all the social circle. Many paused to look at the strange girl as she strode by, speaking low in their voices, but Y/N elected to ignore it. She had gotten to the front door when she realized her focus was so much on maintaining her composure that she forgot to lock the very expensive vehicle. “Shit,” She muttered, turning around to run back close enough to use the key fob.

“I’ve got it, miss,” Jarvis mentioned from her wrist, making Y/N jump and causing the judgmental looking teenagers who were loitering around the entrance to perk up attentively. There was a quiet chirp from across the parking lot, like hearing a cricket during the day.

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Y/N mumbled, thankful for the ease of having the AI’s help. She glanced at the group of girls to her left whispering and looking, but ultimately turned around and kept pushing into the building.

It was loud inside. All the excited students seeing their friends for the first time in three months from across the hall, yelling to each other. It felt chaotic. She just wanted to find her class as soon as possible and not be late. The starting bell rang as Y/N turned down the first hall she saw parting off from the lobby. She had 5 minutes of passing time to find her first-period class and no knowledge of the building. It was bleak and littered with grey lockers under fluorescent lighting that seemed to be just above spooky hospital lighting, but the windows were a nice touch. They let the natural light do all the heavy lifting in lighting up the place. So Y/N wandered off through the wedges of sunlight that bled up the walls, reading numbers to the left of every door. She was thankful to find they were in numerical order all through the building, making it very intuitive to get from one place to another. After a few minutes of following the door signs, she finally came across room 108-C, AP Literature and Composition. It seemed like a good place to start the day. A large woman with brown curly hair and a high, mousy voice greeted the steady flow of students excitedly as they filtered into the dim classroom. The oppressive fluorescent lights had been turned off, opting to operate on the natural sunlight coming in the windows at the back of the classroom. Y/N slid into a desk in the middle of the classroom. She wasn’t the person who needed to be at the back, she wanted to be engaged, but there was a certain comfort to not being on the first lines when it came to open questions from a teacher.

As the final bell rang, the round woman bobbled happily toward her desk, exclaiming, “Welcome to AP Lit!” The slide on the smart board at the front of the class changed to a purple title slide that looked like a third grader had done it, but you could tell there was thought put into it. The class was still chattering with side conversation between the excited students as the teacher announced, “I’m going to go ahead and do roll call right now just to get it out of the way, and then we can get to the fun stuff!” Y/N tried to remember the names as the teacher ran down the list, thinking it would help level the playing field. It wasn’t practical, though. She ended up forgetting each name as soon as it came. It was just too much information at once. She couldn’t even hear half of them over the continued summer recon chitchat. “Y/F/N-Stark?” The room went silent like they’d heard a school shooter in the hall. Y/N knew they’d heard the rumors from the paper this morning, and it didn’t help that Tony registered the teen with a hyphened name. He did it for clarification reasons so that when he did have to act as a guardian there would be no confusion that he held that role, and Y/N had agreed at the time. Now, she just wanted to bury her face in the textbook she hadn’t even received yet and become a mass of hair. She had no idea what that response would mean in trying to establish herself at a new school. It’s not like she was about to be isolated, except perhaps, by extremists who disapprove of her “illegitimate” existence. “Y/F/N-Stark,” the teacher called out again. Y/N hadn’t realized she’d been too distracted to answer.

“Here,” she claimed apathetically as all the eyes of the classroom shot to her at that dumb middle desk. It was as if to say, ‘If there was any confusion before, yes, this is Tony Stark’s daughter here in your classroom. Now don’t be shy.’ The next name, “Flash Thompson” was well heard, and well ignored as the students continued to process how they could use this to their advantage. Y/N felt like she was in a lobster in a tank, with nowhere to go and 30 curious eyes glancing between her and their friends. Still, she tried to keep calm and remind herself that they were in class, the teacher had control, and they couldn’t so much as find an excuse to talk to her without being reprimanded for not paying attention. With that in mind, Y/N fixed her posture to exhume confidence as she focused her mind back on the kind looking woman, who was moving on to the next slide.

“I am Mrs. Winterhalter and since you’re going to be hearing me speak a lot about English this semester, I figured I’d share some things about myself.” She clicked to the next slide, which displayed a photograph of the tubby woman with a silver-haired man, who near doubled her height, and a young girl with the same mop of curly brown hair atop a sporty physique. “This is my husband Ryan and my daughter Gwen,” the woman explained, “Ryan and I met when we were in college, and have been together since.” This earned a brief ‘Aw…’ from the room as Winterhalter continued, “Gwen is 14 and she’s a very talented lacrosse player.” Y/N appreciated the vulnerability of the teacher sharing her personal life with the class. Most people wouldn’t do that, and it really started the course off on the right foot.

After she concluded introducing herself, the class knew that Mrs. Winterhalter was an opinionated activist who loved her family and her dogs and indulged in the occasional mountain biking trip. At this point, she decided to give the class a quick 5-minute mental break before breaking down the course syllabus. She seemed kind and like an engaged teacher who didn’t take things too seriously, but would still get the job done. Y/N thought this would be a fun class to be in for the teacher alone. A good sense of humor and strong ideals were the way to her heart, and Mrs. Winterhalter checked those boxes easily. The large woman sat down at her desk but remained engaged in a conversation with the four students closed to that corner. Meanwhile, the honey-skinned girl beside Y/N leaned over, her long and straight, glossy, black hair spilling over the side of the desk. Y/N turned to meet her haunting hazel eyes that were so bright you’d think they were contacts. “So you’re like, Tony Stark’s daughter, right?” The beautiful girl asked.

Y/N had to take a moment to remind herself that not everyone in her life had malevolent intent, and she should give this girl who was trying to connect with her a fair chance. Just because things had changed in Y/N’s life, didn’t mean it was wrong for people to ask about it. “Yeah,” she responded nervously. “What’s your name again?”

“Pavitra Prabhakar, but people call me Pai,” the girl responded with a smile that Y/N could swear glittered in the sunlight. This girl was the millennial beauty standard and then some and it was intimidating. “So are you really living with the Avengers?” Pavitra asked. “I mean, that’s what J. Jonah Jamison said on the news, but it just seems so strange.”

Y/N felt a relief at that last part, letting down her guard and fully involving herself. “It is!” she exclaimed as her rigid shoulders dropped to a casual slouch. “It is so weird and I don’t think I could compare it to any other experience.”

“What are they like?” Pai inquired, dreamily resting her head on a hand. Nearby, people were starting to pay attention to the conversation taking place between the two girls. It was unusual, but Y/N felt a relief wash over her as she finally got it through her head that these kids were just curious, and more importantly they were willing to listen to her talk genuinely about how strange the last two weeks of her life had been.

“Well, I haven’t met most of them yet,” Y/N began. “They’re all people with lives outside of work, you know? They have homes of their own, individual projects. Some of them have jobs. the Avengers Facility is mostly intended to be a headquarters for when there is a team mission, or for the heroes who can’t or don’t want to live out in the world, so I really haven’t met anyone. Steve’s around, but we haven’t really talked much, and obviously Tony-”

“You call your dad by his first name?” a small blonde girl interrupted from a couple seats behind Pai. She looked like the kind of goody-goody that made you want to snap her bird-boned neck.

It was hard not to take offense at the subtle judgement, but Y/N turned to the fragile-looking girl with a scowl and turned back to Pavitra. She was ready to change the subject. This was supposed to be a get-to-know your classmates moment, and Y/N wanted to learn more about the girl who had engaged her, rather than spend the entire time being bombarded with questions about people she hadn’t met. Taking a deep breath, the teen attempted to return to her conversation, inquiring, “So Pai, are you in any clubs?”

“Just one,” Pai mentioned. “MISA, the Midtown International Student Association. It’s sometimes hard to balance identity and ambition in this place. It’s a private school with an unsurprising economic and race demographic. My family is from India, and I got here on a partial scholarship while my mother is struggling to pay the rest. It can be discouraging to navigate a sea of pasty white skin. I like knowing there is a place I can go where other people have untraditional backgrounds like me.” She gave a shy smile as she finished speaking that warmed Y/N’s heart. Clearly, MISA was a second home to Pai and it obviously meant a lot to her, and that gave Y/N hope.

“Alright, the moment you’ve all been waiting for… the syllabus,” Winterhalter claimed excitedly.

Y/N found the same story happened in all her courses. The cat was out of the bag; Tony Stark’s daughter goes here now. Better ask her about all the Avengers she doesn’t know and obtrusive personal questions that are just uncalled for. It wasn’t malicious, and Y/N was trying to focus on that, but between the boredom of syllabus day and the constant bombardment of questions, she was burned out by lunchtime. As she wandered the cafeteria looking for a comfortable looking place to sit, she sat Pavitra send a smile and wave her way, but Pai had so many friends and Y/N wasn’t ready to meet any more people. She smiled politely at the kind girl but ultimately continued to the back of the cafeteria where she saw a vacant table, opting to sit alone and isolate herself from the intrusive gossip that was out of her control.

Looking down at the food was unappetizing, but Y/N had been in worse situations. The fact that the school provided food, and worked hard to make it healthy and nutritious was something she wouldn’t take for granted the way so many of her American peers did. She stabbed her fork into a piece of steamed broccoli and spun it around as she meditated. Would it always be like this? Could people just get used to Y/N the person and not the Stark? She shoved the green vegetable into her mouth and tasted the earthy flavor of mass-produced food. It may not be the broccoli florets from Costco that she grew up with, but then again nothing would ever beat those. Y/N popped another in her mouth when she noticed a figure approaching her right shoulder. She turned to see the boy she recognized as Peter Parker climbing into the seat next to her.

“Hey,” the boy said kindly, glancing at Y/N for only a brief moment before turning back to his half-eaten tray of food nervously.

She hadn’t thought of this as an option. Peter Parker was Tony’s intern with no reason to ask dumb questions. This caused her lips to curl into a half-smile at the corner of her mouth as she responded, “Hey, Peter.”

The socially strange boy seemed to take this as a cue and looked back up. “I saw you sitting here all alone and I thought you might want someone to sit with,” he explained innocently. Y/N turned to look at Peter. She’d seen him in passing, but they’d never really spoken or stood together long enough in a room for her to really understand what he looked like or how he acted. He was cute. Kind of like the lost puppy you find on the street who is hesitant to come along with you but has these big hopeful brown eyes that beg you to be something safe, but the moment you give them some kind of positive interaction they start wagging their tail and running around in circles. That was Peter. All it took was for Y/N to say hello to him and now he was smiling and brushing back his hair as he excitedly continued, “Ned and MJ wanted to come over here, too, but I thought maybe they should wait for me to see if it was okay. You know, we didn’t want to impede on your alone time or anything, and-”

“Which ones are they?” Y/N interrupting, knowing she wouldn’t get a word in if she let him continue. Peter gestured a few tables down to a hefty kid in a zip-up hoodie and a small girl with her unruly hair tied back. Both were watching the exchange intensely from the empty table and smiled when Y/N looked over. If she didn’t know any better she’d say the two looked suspicious, for what she didn’t know. She could tell they were trying and it was sweet. Gently, Y/N smiled and waved them over, watching as the two clumsily struggled their way up from the table and speed walked over to where she and Peter sat like they’d just been invited to the “cool” table in a 1960’s comic book.

“Hi Y/N,” Ned greeted cheerily as he plopped down across from her, his tray making a loud sound against the table.

MJ carefully slid in next to Ned and uninterestingly asked, “You get asked about anything not Avenger related yet?” Peter’s head swung around with big scared eyes and furrowed brow as if to say, ‘I told you not to bring that up’, but MJ simply leaned forward with intrigue.

Y/N simply answered, “No.” To which MJ responded by laughing like a sociopath. It sounded like she was disinterested and even perhaps a tad condescending with her mocking laugh, but the smile on the girls face and her friendly posture told Y/N that this was MJ’s version of bonding, and honestly, Y/N didn’t mind.

“Yeah, people at this school are dumb,” MJ continued in her humorous way, nose crinkling in her amusement as Peter exhaled in relief that he hadn’t just facilitated a cat fight.

“Do you like Star Wars?” Ned inquired earnestly. He didn’t even waste time to wait for an answer, immediately continuing, “Because I just got this really great mold of a Count Dooku figure—Hang on, it’s in my backpack. I’ll show you,” Ned insisted as he turned to dig through his very full book bag. Y/N glanced at Peter who smiled nervously at her and then turned back to his friend. “Here it is!” Ned exclaimed, holding up the small vinyl figure victoriously.

“Nerd,” MJ scoffed amiably.

“Look at his face!” Ned told Y/N eagerly, handing over the treasured action figure so she could get a closer look. It really said a lot that Ned would let her handle something that clearly meant a lot to him when he barely knew her. It felt good to be given a chance.

Y/N carefully turned over the figure in her hands, looking at the intricate details and appreciating how it looked artistically. The truth was she liked Star Wars, but not enough to really know who Count Dooku was. Even so, she was glad Ned shared it with her. It made her feel like she was actually getting to know someone for the first time that day, and that gave Y/N hope. “That’s really cool, Ned. Thanks for sharing it with me,” Y/N offered kindly as she handed back the figure to its rightful owner. Ned took it from her hands while looking excitedly between Peter and MJ, and Y/N was pretty sure she’d received his approval. “What about you, MJ. Any big exciting news to share?” Y/N teased, trying to get the quiet girl to speak honestly.

Instead of answering, MJ simply shrugged and mentioned, “I like your leather jacket.” It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Somehow, in the time it took for the girls to converse those two lines, Peter and Ned were engaged in their own silent conversation. Y/N turned back to catch a glimpse of the two silently arguing with each other while making frantic faces before they quickly broke off and attempted to act normal. “Wow, you two are lame…” MJ judged, causing the two boys to drop their façade.

“Hey, so um…” Peter began awkwardly, turning toward Y/N. “Ned and I were thinking, you know you don’t know a lot of people here yet, but there’s this party, and you totally don’t have to feel like you have to, but like, we thought maybe you might want to go to meet people. I mean, we’ll be there, too-“

“When is it?” Y/N asked as a means of begging Peter to stop rambling.

“It’s Friday,” Ned piped in eagerly.

“I have a thing with Tony on Friday, but I’ll ask him if we can reschedule tonight,” Y/N explained. She and Tony were trying to implement a system that every week they do a bonding activity to get to know each other better. They’d only done it once before when Tony brought Y/N to his favorite shawarma joint. It didn’t seem like anything typical to the Stark lifestyle, just a small hole-in-the-wall type place. Then Tony explained how the Avengers came there after their first battle together, and it put things in perspective. Y/N couldn’t really take Tony to anywhere she knew as it was all too far away, and she honestly didn’t know what she was going to choose to do for her week anyway. She really did want to go to that party, if for no other reason than to have a shared experience to talk to people about so they’d stop asking the same 3 questions. She figured Tony would be fine with it. If there was something he understood, it would be a party, wouldn’t it? Y/N moved to brush a lot of hair out of her eyes while she said, “You know what? Plan on me being there. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Woah! You have a com-log, too?” Ned suddenly burst out, much to the confusion of Y/N.

“It’s called a com-link, Ned,” Peter groaned in embarrassment as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t get it,” Y/N admitted, looking between the two. After stressfully running a handful of lean fingers through his thick brown hair, Peter pulled up the sleeve of his blue sweater to reveal his own Stark Communicator. It was the same build, same red armor-like band, the only difference was the frame. Where Y/N had the Ironman gold detailing, Peter’s comm had bright cobalt. It was such a rich combination of red and blue it seemed impossible to make metal look like that. “So is this one of those ‘you show me yours, I show you mine’ moments?” Y/N joked. She heard MJ, who had moved on from being a part of the conversation to sketching in her notebook, snicker to herself. Smiling at the fact that she got a reaction out of the individualistic MJ, Y/N shimmied one shoulder out of her jacket and held her com-link next to Peter’s.

“I mean, I just have it for the Stark internship. You know… so Mr. Stark can get a hold of me and I can send him files. Just a bunch of boring stuff like that.” Peter had awkwardly shaken his head and pushed his lips up as he emphasized boring. There was no denying, he was an awkward kid, but Y/N had a feeling if he could put up with Tony there was more to him than the bumbling, nervous boy she was seeing.

Tag List:

@ace-ingthroughlife-jk @just4muggles @i-alyssa @bravest-at-heart @bookgirlunicorn @really-lucas @loud-binch @alextheodd @avoirlu @tumblertrash @amazingficsthatididnotwrite @superspideyparker @whatevsmels @niteshines-on @royal-sunflower @spiderman-masterlists @goldenrose1099 @fav-fan-ficccs @iamburdened @justalittlecrazybutimok @coonflix

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petersquips · 5 years

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Stark Contrast [Chapter One]

Masterlist | Introduction || Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four (pt 1) | Chapter Four (pt 2)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 6,557

Warnings: N/A

If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, Inbox me and I‘ll add your username. Members of the tag list MUST reblog. I look forward to your feedback, friends!

The brilliant lights came on automatically as she woke up. Y/N still wasn’t used to that. She opened her eyes to watch as the curtains rose up and revealed the beautiful morning sunrise on the horizon. “Good Morning. It is 6:30 am. The weather is 74 degrees with scattered clouds,” Jarvis began the morning protocol as the tired teen began to slump out of bed, making her way toward what, to Y/N, was the largest wardrobe ever. It wasn’t full. Not even close, but it had expanded from her modest 5 favorite tees to be a bit more well rounded since moving into the Avengers Facility. It had only been a couple of weeks, but Tony had been restlessly trying to make things as normal as possible for Y/N. He just didn’t necessarily know what “normal" was.

“Are you licensed?” Tony asked before slowly stepped behind him, moving backwards.

“Preparing to take you to Midtown School of Science and Technology, Miss Y/N,” the computer notified her through the aged speaker system.

“You call your dad by his first name?” a small blonde girl interrupted from a couple seats behind Pai. She looked like the kind of goody-goody that made you want to snap her bird-boned neck.

“Alright, the moment you’ve all been waiting for… the syllabus,” Winterhalter claimed excitedly.

“Hey,” the boy said kindly, glancing at Y/N for only a brief moment before turning back to his half-eaten tray of food nervously.

“Hi Y/N,” Ned greeted cheerily as he plopped down across from her, his tray making a loud sound against the table.

“Yeah, people at this school are dumb,” MJ continued in her humorous way, nose crinkling in her amusement as Peter exhaled in relief that he hadn’t just facilitated a cat fight.

“Nerd,” MJ scoffed amiably.

“When is it?” Y/N asked as a means of begging Peter to stop rambling.

“It’s Friday,” Ned piped in eagerly.

“Woah! You have a com-log, too?” Ned suddenly burst out, much to the confusion of Y/N.

“It’s called a com-link, Ned,” Peter groaned in embarrassment as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

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tarotmum13 · 5 years

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Tarot Lessons for Beginners - Part 4

My dear student - I feel like I should apologise for the title! You are a "Beginner" no longer!

By now, you have a grasp on the system that Tarot is built on, you have at least a basic idea of how each card may be interpreted, you can work with your deck in the manner you choose - without clinging to myths and superstitions. You have done some background reading, you (hopefully) have found a deck that suits your style, and you are beginning to use your cards in a spread rather than regard them individually.

I am so proud of you!

Now it is time to learn how we can get more information from the cards that are dealt.

We will do this by looking at a practise-spread, applying what we have learned so far and then looking beyond...

I have chosen a simple 3 card spread, looking at my Past, Present and Future - and you will be surprised how much information can be gleaned from it.

To start our Reading, we look at the story being told in each card and apply it to my particular situation. This will give us insight in to where I am coming from, how my life is progressing right now, and what I can expect from the future. We try to connect each card to the one before, so they form a coherent story rather than little separate puddles of information.

In the Past position we have The Fool. We see a young witch, excited about leaping off a cliff. She is fully trusting that her broomstick will carry her soaring in to the sky, off on an adventure to see the world. She pays no attention to the clouds on the horizon, they are far behind her and she doesn't think they will catch up. Her trusted cat can see the possible dangers here, yet does not leave her side. I like that in this particular card, we get a view of what lies beneath the cliff-edge. We see water (indicating emotion), and a boat. So even if this great leap of faith does not go as planned, there is a safety net there. The young witch will likely bruise her pride, and experience some emotional turmoil, but will land in the sea and be rescued by the sailors... to apply this story to my life, we can say that I used to be a happy-go-lucky individual, not afraid to take some risks and trusting in my abilities and skills to help me take off in life. I had friends, family, people I could trust by my side and I even relied on the kindness of strangers to help me out should I stumble and fall. And fall I did, on several occasions!

In the Present position, we find the 6 of Swords - the mood has changed... gone are the clear bright skies, there is some darkness now but I can still navigate by the light of the moon and stars. It is autumn and the wind is blowing... the fields below are still looking fertile and green, but the trees are shedding their withered leaves as I too must shed that which no longer serves me. I no longer try to go it alone, but have learned it is okay to rely on others and accept their help and guidance. I am leaving, looking back at what is no longer for me, but being pushed along by the brisk autumn breeze. I have bagage now, so carrying a heavier load I do not fly so high... My carefree and trusting younger self lead me in to a relationship that was unsafe. I had to flee, literally, relying on my family back home to support me as I find my feet again.

In the Future position, we see the 9 of Pentacles. We can see the witch, a little older and wiser. She looks relaxed and so does her trusted cat. She can afford to enjoy some rest and take time to expand her mind rather than worry about where the next meal will come from. The tree next to her is bearing it's fruit - she has tended it well and now she can rely on it to feed her, and bring in some money when she sells what she does not need for herself. She is enjoying the wine that was made from her past harvests, but it has grown better, richer, more balanced with age. She has put down her broomstick, it will be there should she choose to move on, but she seems settled, enjoying her life. What this means for me is that my hard work will pay off, I can build a nice, comfortable home and will have enough to get by - more self-sufficient now, I no longer have to rely on others to bail me out.

These are the bare bones of our reading - but what more information can we provide? As we discussed before, we can turn over our deck and look at the card that lies at the bottom for some more information.

In this case, my Shadow Card was the 5 of Cups: This card shows the witch looking forlorne, filled with sadness and regret at the spilled wine in front of her - paying no attention to the lavishly set table behind her. The sea in front of her signifies how emotional she is feeling. There are trees behind her showing she is well rooted, she has stability and grounding, but right now she doesn't feel any of that... to me, this card warns me that I need to turn around. Stop mourning my past and that which I have lost, get up, dust myself off and look at all the riches my life has to offer that I can be grateful for. It is true that I suffer some melancholly, missing Scotland and the people, places, material things I had to walk away from to put myself out if harms way...

 What else can we see?

We see that this reading consists of one Major Arcana card and 2 Minors. This indicates that in our youth, we were ruled by the Fates - we followed the Rites of Passage, being pushed out of the nest and learning to fly for ourselves - we accepted the opportunities Life offered to us and questioned little, going with the flow. Then, as we got older, we were more concerned with the day-to-day ups and downs of our life, we made more conscious choices and took control of our own destiny. A majority of Minor Arcana cards tells us that we hold the key to our future and there are not subject to those big, life changing events that are beyond our control.

Next, we take note of the Elements and Suits represented. The Fool card shows a body of Water, as well as clouds massing in the sky - so we can consider both Water and Air represented here. The 6 of Swords again brings Air, the Suit of Swords representing Thought, Clarity and a Sharp Mind. The 9 of Pentacles brings in the element of Earth, where we can put down Roots, grow fertile Crops, and find Gold to satisfy our Mayerial longing. The Shadow Card teaches us that it is Water, Emotions, that may keep us from enjoying all that we have. Wands are not represented, that is something to be mindful of too! Maybe we are lacking some Fire, some Inspiration?

Now - Lets look at how the characters in the cards are interacting with eachother.

The young Fool has her eyes closed, she is boldly turned towards her future, but is not really thinking ahead. She lives in the Now, the joy and exhilaration of the moment. If we look at the next card, we can see the figure glancing back, is she looking at her younger self with some sadness? Or is she reproachful? Does she mourn for how carefree she used to be? Or does she blame her young, naïve self for leading her here, to this point in her life where she has to leave everything behind except what she can carry in her bag... and even then, she chose to bring sharp swords, the pain of what happened to her. Or is she in fact looking straight at us? Now, here? Are the swords there to defend herself should she need to? Maybe she would do well to look ahead... There her future self is facing her way, but not in distress or anger. She can see where she is coming from, and she knows that her experiences made her who she is now - Maybe she still keeps her travelling-hat and broomstick close, because she has learned to be prepared in case life forces her to move on, but she can be content with her lot. What advice would she have given her younger selves if she could speak to them now? Something to think about...

 As you can see, looking at the card interactions gives us more information than if we had just considered each card individually.

But we can see even more! We looked at the story within the cards, and at the people in them. But we haven't yet looked at the numbers!

In basic numerology, each number has it's own meaning attached. Numerology is a broad and complicated subject, and would be a study in itself should you wish to learn more. But knowing a few basics can already provide us with more insight.

So, going by the (brief) insights above, we can choose to consider each card individually:

In the Past, The Fool carries the number 0 - all opportunities are open to us, we have endless possibilities. In the Present, the number 6 tells us that we are making changes based on our aknowledgement of the facts - we are emerging triumphant because we are not suffering our situation but rather taking the necessary steps to improve our wellbeing. We might feel some pain as we think of our memories, but we know we are heading for better things. In the Future, the 9 speaks to us of satisfaction, knowing we have come a long way and are almost at the end of our cycle - where we have come to terms with the path our life has taken and can see, looking back, that our struggle was necessary to lead us here, to this point. Now, enjoy! Who knows what the next cycle brings?

We can also choose to give an overall number or value to the spread - we do this by adding up the individual numbers (note that I do not add the Shadow Card, as it was not technically part of the spread but rather an adendum, providing extra insight and information):

0 + 6 + 9 = 15

As the outcome is greater than a number between 0 and 10, we add the numbers again:

1 + 5 = 6

6 is the overall number for this particular reading, telling us that no matter what has happened or what is still to come, we can be proud of our accomplishments and we have triumphed over adversity!

 As you can see, a simple 3 card spread has given us a lot to work with! I will recap for you the different ways we have used the cards to get insight in to the situation:

- Read the story depicted in the cards - Apply it to the individual situation, making connections so the story flows - Look at the Shadow Card at the bottom of the deck - Note the amount of Major and Minor Arcana cards - Look at which suits/elements are represented (and which are lacking) - Inspect the way the cards interact with eachother - check basic numerological values

 If you do all of this when executing a reading, you will have a wealth of information at your disposal!

 I sincerely hope that you have found at least some of my guidance useful, and that you take pride in how far you have come. You are now no longer a Novice, but a real Tarot Reader, ready to practise your craft!

 My advice is: Keep practising and studying - there is always more to be learned! Don't be so vain as to think you know it all, but stop second-guessing yourself and thinking you don't know enough...

Find your balance, and most of all: have fun!

 I will still put out the Adendum with card keywords, but this is it folks! The Beginners Lessons are over - keep your eye out for a more advanced class...

 I thank you for your attention and send you out in to the big wide world of Tarot, my Love and Affection will always be with you.

Xxx

 P.S: I add a link to the previous lesson, should you have missed it - each lesson contains this link to the one before, so you can go back to the beginning if you want to review your progress.

https://tarotmum13.wordpress.com/2019/01/13/tarot-lessons-for-beginners-part-3/

#tarot lessons for beginners #card interactions #basic tarot numerology #bringing a spread together #telling the story in the cards

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poorvioletdraws · 5 years

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Tom vs. The Underworld

*I decided to write a fanfic based specifically around Tom from SVTFOE and my oc, Raya as practice for a bigger project I want to do one day since I haven’t written any kind of story in years. It takes place mainly in the Underworld around season 4 and later post-Cleaved. This is the first chapter. Hope you like it and happy reading!

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Chapter 1: Someday I Suppose

I had been passing the time in between deliveries for my eldest sister, Rochelle, by playing an old favorite of mine on my Sintendo 66 gaming console in the backroom of her feed and bait store. Being the youngest of seven from the infamous Stone Demon family, the Belmontes, I constantly had a lot of pressure on me to turn out just like my siblings whenever my last name was mentioned. All of my brothers wanted to be great builders like Dad. All of my sisters wanted to create magnificent swords and weaponry just like Mom. Then there was me. I wasn’t very good at building or creating anything really. Except when it came to music.

Music was always a passion of mine to forget about the normalcy of my reality, and having a game like “The Legend of Lilith: Fiddle of Time” to consume myself with really highlighted that vehement urge for escape. I often times would play the many medleys and songs for hours on my saxophone after such sessions. My family and friends knew this ritual of mine all too well and would admonish that I can get lost in the music and forget reality if I’m not careful, though I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend my day honestly.

It wasn’t until the third time of Rochelle’s abrupt entry--swinging the door open and shaking the room with her shouting--that I had to tear away from my fantasy and get started on that invoice in order to not incite her wrath any further. I idly examined the statement and retrieved each item, all the while as my older sister berated my slothlike behavior and questioned aloud why I even decided to help out at her store knowing my history of “slackerdom”. The address was a recurring one whose proprietor always paid in advance so this would be a quick delivery. They also preferred to be left anonymous yet they religiously requested the delivery of the same bulk products every few weeks--Hydraworms, Tears of the Harpy, Leviathan Leeches, spool of Acromantula web, skeleton horse hay and grass (not to be confused with flesh horse hay and grass), and a few boxes of “Underworld’s Best Bunny Pellets” just to name a few on the list. I knew it all like the basic fingerings of my sax.

As soon as I packed the last of the order into my Golem--the only thing I created with my elemental abilities that was actually exceptional according to my Dad--I was off and heading out to Lava Lake. My eagerness of getting back to my game and becoming further engrossed in a fantasy of excitement gradually subsided as I gazed across the bubbling body of lava. There were demons swiftly surfing across the molten rock waves of the beach while others were challenging each other to an intense game of Skull Ball. A group of Monster tourists were fishing off the Dock of Unending Torment at the same time another group was setting sail on their ghost ship rental. Small demon children were joyfully building sand coffins and burying each other in the dark gray grainy substance, their laughter becoming an accompaniment with the rest of the enjoyment on the beach. Although playing games and creating music were fun hobbies of mine, it was seeing crowds of people having fun themselves and getting lost in their excitement that was something else I would never get tired of. Everyone seemed to be so happy as they relished in the atmosphere. And witnessing such happiness made me happy for them as well.

This part of the beach was the busiest; a prime location for my sister’s shop. Our mom suggested she learn how to run a smaller business before taking on the huge responsibility that is the family trade, and like the obedient daughter she is, my sister followed through without hesitation. Plus, Rochelle was able to practice forging smaller items like fishing knives and hooks when she wasn’t spending her free time bossing me around. She would rush me if I couldn’t ring a customer up fast enough and belittle me when I accidentally spilled something (multiple things) and didn’t clean it up right away--which is why she has tasked me with deliveries. I can’t destroy the shop if I’m not in the shop, I guess. And it was only one time where I accidentally let loose that swarm of piranhaflies in the store; in my defense, I didn’t know you sell the whole container of the creature to a customer instead of just one individually.

I know she assumes I purposefully don’t work at my full potential, but I really am trying to. I may be slow and clumsy, but I genuinely want to do the best I can to help my sister achieve her goal, even if my own hasn’t really been figured out yet. I like observing her work. She knows how to answer every question a customer has and can find the best solution to their problem. I like how she includes me in things that interest her too. She shows me the best bait to use to catch a Flaming Crococricket and how to break open the shell of an Ember Berry to use the juice for medicinal purposes. But most of all, I like seeing how happy helping others makes her feel. Sometimes, while we are sitting out on the beach together and watching the waves calm at the end of the day, I glance over and admire the contentment of Rochelle. She is truly happy with her existence and extends that aspect towards others, something I secretly yearn for. She inspires me to be that kind of beacon in someone else’s life one day. But with my reputation of being a “lazy” and “procrastinating” demon lacking the expertise to carry on the Belmonte name, I highly doubt such a day would come anytime soon.

Being lost in my train of thought, I didn’t realize that dark maroon and coal black clouds were forming overhead. And then without warning, a thunderous boom filled the sky, shocking me as I clutched onto my Golem. The wind began to shoot passed me furiously and the clouds burst open, spitting down violent flames as the red waves crashed wildly on the barren land.

“Where’d this storm come from all of a sudden!” I shouted to myself, jumping from my Golem and placing my hand on its base. It began breaking down from its previous walking form and into a makeshift stone shelter. Now covered from the onslaught of the fiery squall, I looked around at my surroundings.

I had already wandered into the secluded area of the beach where the crowd had vanished from sight. This was definitely part of my usual route but the storm was definitely not. Fire really couldn’t harm me with my skin being partly covered with stone and all, but I was wearing my favorite outfit today and didn’t want it getting singed. I guess I’ll wait it out.

I thought how mad my sister will be, knowing I’ve taken longer than I needed to. She probably thinks I am messing around this very minute. How was I to know a flash firestorm was going to occur? I then began to think of my friends back home in Chernabog City, the largest demon metropolis in the heart of Prickly Plains. The six of us would be hanging out at the arcade right around this time, maybe deciding if we wanted to go do karaoke before or after we ate at our favorite burger place, Grimdonald’s. We also formed a band together. Even though we are amateurs, we have a lot of fun just playing together regardless if we don’t always sound good. We don’t have a singer yet however. I haven’t had much time to hang out with my friends or look for a singer now that I help out my sister. She had told me that this busy season will be slowing down soon, which will be a pretty good thing. Not that I’m complaining, but I would like to focus more on our music we had been creating together lately.

All of a sudden and as quickly as it started, the storm died down, leaving no trace of its presence at all. A bright rainbow shown through in its place off the horizon. I looked around quickly for a sign of familiarity. Off to the far side of my Golem structure, there was a wooden post near some large rocks that read “Private Property”. I gave a sigh of relief, knowing I was almost to my destination. I transformed my Golem back into its riding form and continued on. Aside from the bipolarity of the weather, it had been just another typical day in the Underworld. Instances such as that one do not happen out of the ordinary too often. Guess that was my bit of excitement for the day. Or so I thought.

A spacious beach-side home--not too extravagant but still containing the right amount of grotesque appeal demons like--was positioned comfortably near the lake of fire, separating the rocky terrain from the burning abyss before it. A large cone shaped tower with a beaming eye atop it sat adjacent to the home. Having stopped by the carport where a blue vehicle was parked, I hopped off my Golem and retrieved the boxes to be delivered from its carriage. Carrying so many in one trip wouldn’t be too hard of a task for me, though if my sister were present she would comment how I’m just being too lazy to want to make multiple trips. I staggered over to the door with the mountain of goods and was able to extend one of my fingers just enough to press the doorbell without dropping the load. I turned to the side so my head wasn’t blocked by the packages and could greet the usual patron that came to answer.

However, instead of being greeted by the high pitch voice of the little red winged demon that would confirm the address and flap away with the order just as fast as he came to the door, a teenage demon boy with pale lilac skin and salmon-colored hair answered it.

“Hey.” he said calmly.

Still taken aback by the fresh face, I mumbled, “Um… Uh--Hi. delivery for this address from Styx & Stones.”

The demon boy looked puzzled at first but when I mentioned the name of the store he quickly caught on and said, “Oh yea, my Dad placed the order not too long ago. For the Lucitors, right?”

“Well… it always comes in as Anony—Wait, Lucitor?” I uttered the last name again.

“Yeeea…?” he shrugged coolly..

“As in THE Lucitors?!” I gasped alarmingly.

“Uh huh, yep.” he repeated his affirmation without hesitation.

“As in KING and QUEEN Lucitor!” I blurted out, my eyes were probably as wide as saucers at this point.

“Yea, well, they are my parents so…” He chuckled a bit as he averted his eyes to the side and itched at his cheek.

“Eh! So you’re Prince Lucitor?!” I squealed, feeling an overwhelming rush of anxiety take over me.

“Uh, you can just call me—“

“I’m so sorry for my rudeness!” My body began to tremble and my voice was shaking as I panicked, “P-Please forgive me, Your Highness!” I instantly hung my head down, my red hair falling in my face. But because I had hastily bowed to the demon prince, I did not realize I had dropped the entire order to the ground in the process. My hands clutched at the sides of my face in horror. “Ah! I dropped all of your stuff, I’m so sorry!” I fell on my knees and started to frantically collect the pile of items around me. “Sorry for my incompetence, I’ll make sure you don’t get charged if anything is messed up! I’m so very sorry, Your Highness sir!”

“Uhh..” he couldn’t find his words; probably because he is too busy considering various ways to discipline me for my insolence, no doubt. Even worse, he will probably go get King and Queen Lucitor and tell them what I have done!

I bent down even further, slamming my forehead to the floor with my knees in my chest. If it weren’t for me being a Stone Demon, such an action would knock out anybody else. Although, I do wish I were unconscious right now instead of feeling like such an idiot in the presence of our prince. I wish I could just bury myself in the sand and disappear. Now it made sense why the order was always left anonymous. The royal Lucitor family owns this home! How could I have spoken to royalty--our prince of the Underworld--in such a casual tone. Once my family finds out about how I have shamed them, I’ll be banished, I’m sure! Just the thought of such impending ostracization had me sweating bullets and my yellow eyes filling with tears. I needed to find redemption with him somehow.

So, while still being extremely embarrassed, I was able to meekly cry out, “I didn’t know your family was staying here, I deserve whatever punishment you see fit for my blatant disrespect, Your Highness!”

Silence.

I didn’t dare look up from the ground but when I saw the shadow of his hand raise, I knew it was coming. I held my breath as my own hands clenched at the floor beneath me and my body stiffened in anticipation of his chosen judgement. But instead of a rage-filled strike, my shoulder was met with his touch in a comforting way. I slowly brought my head up to look in his direction, casting my hair to the side and finally out of my face.

He gave a half-smile, “Ok, look. I know I’ve been a bit of a… of a jerk before in the past with my subjects--and believe me, I get how some of you may still think of me as this angry, spoiled guy--but I have changed SO much now. And thanks to a lot of people close to me, I am working on my temper so I can be a better prince for the future of the Underworld.”

Still nervous, I murmured, “Your Highness, n-no… I wasn’t calling you a--”

“And all that Your Highness stuff, psshh, you can just call me Tom. It is my name after all.” He removed his hand from my shoulder and began reaching for a box.

I began to worry again, “No, Your Highness, please, you shouldn’t do that, it’s my fault you--”

“Hyuh!” He called out as he shot his hand upward. In an instant, all of the items in disarray on the floor suddenly floated in the air. He motioned his hand towards his front door and everything that had been levitating proceeded to quickly fly inside his beach house.

I was at a loss for words. His telekinetic ability was amazing, but I didn’t expect less of a feat from such a high-born child whose family rules over the Underworld.

“Well, there we go.” He turned back in my direction with his hands on his hips and all three of his red eyes now fixed on me. “So, you uh, going to get off of the ground, or something?”

I jumped to my feet, feeling some of the debilitating anxiety slowly release its hold on me. I tried to calm myself but my words still came out in a panic, “I-I-I-m so sorry you had to do that, Your High--”

“Hey, I told you. You can call me Tom, all my friends do.” he gave a genuine smile.

My mouth was slightly agape but I didn’t really care how I looked right now. I was still in awe of being able to stand in front of one of the Lucitors of the Underworld. I clutched my hands together tightly to my chest, something I always tend to do when I am unsure how to read the situation. I have never met anyone of royalty before, let alone seen anyone of such stature before either. How I imagined the prince to be was not the same person I am seeing before me. My friends and I thought of him and his family to be the most despicable and aggressive of creatures, ready to obliterate any one of us lesser demons who even dare cough in the same room as them. This demon boy was nothing like that. He wasn’t terrifying or vile. He looked just like us. He dressed like us. He smiled. And not in a deceptive way. An actual sincere smile. Looking into his eyes and observing that smiling face, I felt my guard beginning to slip a little. I was about to muster up enough courage to reply to him when--

“Tom! Your Dad got the board drawn for Sand Darts and you’re up first, handsome!” a cheery and youthful female voice called from inside the home.

“Oh ho, It’s on! Coming, Star!” The demon prince turned away and was about to close the door behind him when he paused. He glanced back at me and said, “Oh, I never got your name.”

I began to blush nervously as I stared at my feet. I took a breath and was able to mumble out, “Uhm.. It’s… Raya… Your Hi--Uhm... Prince Tom…”

“Cool, nice to meet you, Raya. Well, see-ya around. Heh heh.” He pointed his hand at me like a finger gun and winked all in one motion before shutting the door behind him, getting a laugh at his play on words with my name.

And just like that, I was alone again. I don’t remember how long I stood there staring at the now closed door, or when I finally returned to my Golem to take the trek back to my sister’s store. I never really felt like this before. Everything seemed so unreal and as if my head was in a haze. I can’t believe I met the prince of the Underworld. He wasn’t what I expected at all, which was kind of a good thing really. He was very welcoming, kind of dorky, and, most importantly, he was happy. Just like my sister, Rochelle. He has the kind of happiness in him that is unbreakable. Which is to be expected, being a prince and all.

Coming from royalty, his life must have always been easy and perfect; with a future decided for him, he probably doesn’t have a care in the world. His royal parents must really love him and that female voice, a princess girlfriend perhaps, loves him too. He probably can have anything he could ever want and do whatever he wanted to. His reality is that of a most coveted fantasy by many. But, despite all that, his happiness is still pure and the kind I admire. The kind I wouldn’t mind being around more in hopes of taking in some of that for myself, if that were even possible. Random encounters such as this don’t happen everyday. How many of us common demon folk even get to say we met Prince Lucitor? … Prince Tom… His friends call him Tom… I wonder what it's like being friends with someone like him…

Secretly I hope one day I’ll know. Someday, I suppose...

Read on:

#svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #fanfic #tom lucitor #oc #starvstheforcesofevil #oc fanfiction #the underworld #TomVSTheUnderworldFanfic #TVTU

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creepy-creepy-pasta · 6 years

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Coal Dust

So, here I am. Laying down on my stomach helpless, darkness stifling both my thoughts and cries for help. I was too deep underground now, all sound drowned out by the earth, with my last moments ahead of me I began to reflect on how the hell I ended up in this position.

I had recently received a tip-off to investigate a small town in northern England. It was a minute, silent town that hardly manifested on any map I could get my hands on, the history of this place was as obscure as itself; the only background information I had received about the location was the construction of the power plant that was finalised in the early 80’s, before then the town had heavily relied on coal from its coal mines in order to keep residents warm during hard gruelling winters.

However, the most striking news that seemed to plague the town was the various reports of missing people and the supposed continued operation of the coal mines despite its long ago shut-down. Accounts of thick, black smoke slithering from behind the grey ridges that tore along the horizon from across the fields that surrounded the town. Although, I could not fathom a connection between the missing persons and these reports of the redundant coal mines operations.

I needed the money, desperately, so I ventured into this town with the intent to investigate these suspicions of missing people thoroughly. I started with the most appropriate place my mind could conjure up; the fields. These fields stretched for miles, scarred with snaking paths that cut straight through the tall grass and marshland, all extended towards the ridges. I had also been warned beforehand of the marshes that were highly prevalent in the fields, with this in mind I set off on my investigation on one of the paths that had been mulched into a slick mud by various people, probably hikers.

This seems like it would be an idyllic, scenic place. With the right weather of course. At this moment in time, the skies were overcast and grey, a miserable blanket draped over the sun that had seemed to have disappeared. The majority of my journey was uneventful. The same images of tall grass, gangly trees and rising hills crossed my vision for hours. That was until, through random chance, I had somehow wandered onto a path that seemed to be untouched, only a subtle one -meter wide line that I considered to be a path. I had probably wandered onto this trail whilst my mind was also wandering. With a heavy sigh, I scolded myself for not being attentive reminding myself of the warning of the marshes the locals had given me. With a new-found caution, I prepared to turn back, which was when something very…odd struck my peripheral vision. It was a splash of colour that prominently stood out from the generic green grass. It was…sky blue?

Whipping my head around to focus on the out of place object I saw it was a long sleeved shirt, the colour hadn’t been as vibrant as I first thought, the blue was darkened and made dull from what I predicted as years of exposure to the elements. Why was this here? It looked like it belonged to an adult and had also looked like it had been here for a while with streaks of grime soiling the wool material it was made out of.

I didn’t touch it, I just stared with curiosity slowly building inside my mind. I simply lifted the lens of my camera and snapped a quick photo. The faded trail beckoned me onwards; perhaps there were more items of interest further down this path? I continued onwards and discovered more carelessly strewn about clothing, but they did not seem to belong to the same person. All were of different sizes some seeming to belong to younger children and others to larger individuals. I took a photo of all I came across.

I suddenly became aware of the rapidly setting sun around me. It was getting late and I needed to turn back. I found nothing else and began to return to my starting point. Speaking of which, where was I? I was perplexed as I glanced behind me only to notice that there was no longer a path behind me, only tall grass and line of trees appeared. Perplexed I began to walk aimlessly, attempting to find some noticeable feature that would allow me to make my way back but there was nothing. Around me appeared the same mundane pattern of trees, grass and hill. Panic began to swell as the encroaching darkness crept in, with the sun dipping below the evening clouds I decided to climb upwards to try and gain an idea of where I was. I reached the top of a grassy knoll and searched around me, scanning for a route out of these fields. I did find something. It wasn’t a route.

My eyes fell upon dark columns of smoke rising towards the murky heavens. With disbelief infesting my mind I began to ponder; was it really true? It couldn’t be. I dismissed the thought, I had to focus on getting back. Then again, the columns seemed to intrigue me, and like I said. I REALLY needed the money. My feet began to stagger towards the columns, sluggish with fatigue. Now I was no more than a fish caught on a fishing hook; I had taken the bait.

I began to draw closer to the smoke as they loomed larger in the sky as I gradually made my way towards them.

Just a little closer, not long now.

That was when I just noticed the noise that had been hiding amongst the background chorus of chirping birds and rustling autumn leaves. It was subtle yet it grew louder and louder as my weary steps came ever closer to the smoke. It was a low rumble, my mind immediately jumped to the idea that this was the mines in operation, yet I knew this was impossible for they had been shut down for a long time. Tucking this thought in the back of my head I continued going towards the black smoke.

I had been traversing the fields for hours, with no change of scenery to bless my eyes. It was the same grass everywhere. That was until I clicked onto an abrupt change in the land, the green terrain withered away into an asphalt coloured landscape. I had reached my destination; the former coal pits. A flat land stretched out in front of me, I jogged to the edge of this flat wasteland only to observe a large crater with openings in the side. It was obvious what this was. I had also just realised that the smoke had ceased as did the rumble.

Bizarrely I had the idea of searching one of the mine shafts. Looking back on it now, it was a foolish idea, yet I still followed through with my idiotic plan.

Cautiously I made my way down the side of this crater, towards one of the openings. It was obscured by thorns and vegetation and barely visible. I decided to crawl through a barely noticeable gap in this wall of vegetation. With great effort, I pushed my body through and came out the other side in pitch blackness covered in scratches and dirt. Tapping into my resourceful side I illuminated the place with my camera flash. At the very least it would give me a concept of where I was.

Raising my camera I clicked the button and the bright flash covered every inch of the shaft it was now in. It revealed to me ashen grey walls, supported by wooden beams that had, surprisingly for their age, not been rotted. In fact, they appeared…new.

As if somebody was still maintaining them.

But how could this be possible?

Searching the walls with my hands I clawed my way around the tunnel, clumsily finding my way deeper and deeper.

As I got deeper a smell began to intestate the area, becoming more pungent as I descended. It became so strong that I began to gag. Heavily. Almost vomiting I realised that it smelled like…something dead. My feet reached a level ground and the descent had abruptly come to an end. Raising my camera once more I activated the flash.

I could’ve turned back then, and now I dearly wished I did.

I had discovered where the missing people went. I saw piles of corpses, stacked on top of one another, their clothes were torn and shredded. They were dragged down here, this was made evident by the scratches and cuts visible on their skin. An incinerator was next to this horrifying sight. Reaching out with reluctant hands I touched its surface. I immediately leapt backwards as I discovered it was hot. The source of the smell had also been discovered along with the bodies. Tears welled up in my eyes and stung as the smell intensified; the smell of rot.

The coal dust my fingers made contact with countless times…it wasn’t coal dust. Glaring at my shaking hands I found that they were covered in not coal, but ashes from burnt bodies.

I always found it odd how I discovered not a single lump of coal. Sure it was abandoned long ago but surely that doesn’t mean the coal source had run dry, there should be at least some trace of coal here, but no there was nothing, only “coal dust” lay here. That was when the realisation struck me like a hammer to anvil sending sparks of horror in my mind.

There was never any coal.

I now knew how the town was kept warm during the winter and the thought sickened me, the locals were all deceived and given power meanwhile their own kind burned down here.

Now I moved onto the next thought that occupied my head; it was still in operation. It was too late when I came to this revelation and blinded by my shock I had not heard the creeping footsteps behind me, however, I did hear the words that froze the blood in my veins.

“More fuel for the fire, eh?”

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thesweetblossoms · 5 years

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Conversations at Night

🎹Last week, a newly immigrated Jordanian Uber driver, Omar, drove me to work, he mentioned that he studied Arabic literature and was curious about by name. When I told him, it was indeed an Arabic word, chosen by my father, he readily shared his research and knowledge, to tell me more about its meaning. He relayed to me that the name derives from one of the oldest tribes in the Arabian desert, that the root word means hardworking as well intelligent. Although I had known that my name meant, intelligence, since I was a little girl, after learning the actual root word, “Sammar”, I researched further, discovering it also means “conversations at night”. This is such a haunting meaning, since I often think and write at night, and it pleasing to think that my name might indeed be a self fulfilling prophecy.

If I were to list seven elements that contribute to a women’s appeal, that carry the impression of compelling, interesting and unforgettable femininity, that strengthen a ladies ability to exert a magnetic pull, sex appeal, as well as attraction, my list would include grace, intelligence, wit, confidence, imagination, style and vision. For each dispenses the charms, extracts the best elements and leaves faint traces of the women’s soul into the atmosphere she inhabits and colors all her encounters.

A graceful women is one that may be counted on to examine the hand she has been given and find the only way to play would be to create, envision and design, a charming, memorable and beautiful life. She would notice that a hand painted thank you note and homemade lemon zested madeleines would be a happy gift to send to an elementary school teacher, or a message to an author, after reading a book may increase the power of both written and unwritten works, or that dealing with multiple obligations yet remaining unfazed is the key to carrying out each endeavor well. A graceful women is often a reliable friend, somebody who has kindness and strength to spare,

who is generous and open hearted in providing ideas, advice, new ways of thinking, perspectives and insights that open channels, clarifying problems, dilemmas or troubles. By confronting issues with a high level of ability, sharpness, composure and calm, she inspires faith in outcomes as well as a sense of security in others, for she reminds us, that the universe readily furnishes us with necessary tools and the awakened among us may cannily use these to create gardens, or start companies, write books, raise children or steadfastly and relentlessly chase any dream.

Intelligence is an irreplaceable tool in a women’s arsenal. While appearances satisfy many evolutionary prerogatives, people are often attracted to the components of a persons personality, character and energy. Thus ones ability to think, to make connections, to gain and use knowledge, to envision new and different worlds, to find patterns, to look minutely at details, to be able to grasp the universal horizons, to simplify the blinking space between birth and death, to detect humor or to ideate a world without pain and suffering, may be intoxicating to others, just as newly opened ivory roses, are to an orchid pink desert hummingbird.

The wittiness factor adds a sparkle to drifting breezes, ticking minutes and to the light filled hours of experience, for any encounter is more pleasurable when the conversation is amusing, interesting and articulate. The epitome for wit may be Jane Austen’s, Elizabeth Bennet, a heroine that is able to duel with the most bedeviling of men, who is able to enchant all around her with her kindness, intelligence and passion. For eons, I thought that being witty meant the ability to think fast and return a volley with ferocity and brilliance, yet it may actually embody a larger context, as being witty may be a certain kind of sensitivity, of knowing the correct words to appease a tense situation, perhaps with a gentle surrender, or a thoughtful offer, or it may be the priceless skill, at a dinner party or even, an attorneys break room setting, perchance, to extract the most vivacity from another person. A witty disposition unleashes the exuberant and sardonic ability to ascertain the humor inherent, even within the bitterest of dilemmas and unsavory intervals, it persuades the sleepiest of senses to savor the intrinsic qualities of reality, of the funny, cute and precious elements of quickly changing and developing children, or of noting the romantic opportunities of lounging in candlelight, when the power goes out, or in taking rain showered tree and blossom perfumed walks in less crowded sidewalks, or of knowing that what is truly relevant is how much you laughed, or lingered in beauty or dwelled in love.

Confidence is a narcotic quality, it opens ones experience to manifest the most fruitful results. It relies on an innate sense of place, an ability to see through many of the artificial blocks that prevent us from enjoying the present. I am awed at the way certain individuals carry themselves, the plus size models, or the plainly dressed and unassuming tech founders, or little children who have not been conditioned to compare themselves to media and cultural archetypes. Confidence arises from a comprehension of the value that one may add to the situation, knowing that the simplest gestures may tint the quietest hours, or even the most hectic ones, it is the calling card of the person, who introduces themselves and gains a new friend, or the individual that sweeps aside other peoples narrow viewpoint by example, or who seldom worries about how the audience regards them, as long as they adhere to high principals, values and modes of conduct.

Creating imaginary worlds, or parallel dimensions is a satisfying and alluring anecdote to navigating life in our present form. Therefore, a wild, creative, whimsical, exuberant, fantastical, energetic, ephemeral or any other type of imagination allows us to wonder into other realms that may exist in the vastness of eternity, like invisible moons, beguiling us unawares. An imagination could spark an ambrosial love affair, by sensing possibility in a potential partner, despite the blindingly obvious shortcomings, leading one on a romantic journey that could be thrilling despite the gaping variance from previous amorous notions. Or it could lead one to design and create an incandescent and disarmingly magnificent garden, laden with peach hydrangea, royal purple forget me nots, green tea dogwood blossoms, pink sapphire peonies and a hanging rope swing, knotted to a stately fairy light strung oak tree, to softly glide upon, while caressed by honeysuckle perfumed drifts, lashings of tenderness from ripening pink moons and lulling gold silk threaded clouds. It could create worlds that linger in our shared literary world, enthralling readers over generations with indelible characters and themes, such as J.M Barries, Peter Pan, or A Midsummers Nights Dream by William Shakespeare. An unfettered imagination could birth an enthusiastic and charming story about a mischievous giraffe in Paris, or a lonely starfish who longs to escape the coral reefs, or a striking, haunting and unforgettable love story set in the English countryside.

Words are more permanent than thoughts, as thoughts dissipate unerringly into the atmosphere, so just as writing encodes symbolic meaning, accelerates and defines the future as well as leaves greater tangible traces than musings alone, personal style is also an imprint of ones personality into reality. Sometimes the simplest ideas beguile me, the idea that a dress as ephhermal as a chiffon piece protects, shelters and conceals us from the part of reality that is separate from our selves, yet also exists as a work of art, or that how we dress impacts our energy, attitudes and moods, wearing floral patterns reminds us of the healing potential of nature, a black studded dress advertises that we must not be trifled with, or a nude halter silk dress evinces a desire for frivolity, sensuality and celebration. My thoughts often dwell upon an inking, an ominous sensation or a persistent thought cloud, that there is scare time as well as opportunity, to express myself to the farthest limits of possibility, to sit quietly to read and think about manifold subjects that render illumination, or even to savor the wondrous scenes occurring across time and space, as it entails a sacrifice of other pressing matters to notice, contemplate and mull the mysterious unfurling of the hours. I feel this way especially poignantly regarding style, that there isn’t enough time to wear the clothes that have come across my path, that I may not have adequate chances to choose different earrings to compliment my outfits or wear lovely shoes that would enhance a carefully chosen scarf. Just as the way an exquisite platinum ring sets of a twinkling emerald gem, this dearth of time influences me to both savor as well as thoughtfully consider the ritual of dressing in the morning for work, or selecting a caramel and gold beaded party dress to wear for a date night, or collecting another white cotton dress to linger in the garden.

Ones vision far exceeds the artifices and false boxes of sex, status or upbringing as vision is an element of our soul, it is a masterful and ecstatic gift, one that many lucky people possess, yet only to squander it in half sleepy lives, leaving a handful to scale the heights of awareness, or risk the temptations of insanity, topple precariously over the edges of reason as great visual artists such as Vincent Van Gogh, Claude Monet or Georgia O Keefe. For vision is a subtle ecstasy, enabling us to be charmed by overwhelmingly gorgeous vistas such as lilac clouded rainforests in Costa Rica, or Balinese, glimmering beach temples, a misty pine tree cove in Vancouver, a small town waterfall in Connecticut with groves of blossoming plum trees, a hilly glade ripe with nigella, cosmos, asters and lace flowers in Colorado, a moonshot Taj Mahal with night blooming jasmine and tuberose, a concealed hydrangea, rose and clematis ivy and moss draped reading bench in a garden in Cotswalds, or a white chiffon gown and black tie soirée at the Hall of Mirrors at the Versailles. Yet, the boundless gift of vision includes the ability to create imaginary worlds, perhaps, the talent to create a Parisian rooftop soirée with pink champagne, piano music, shadows of darkness and light, a setting for an overture, for the mischievous heiress in a backless black silk dress with emerald earrings, and the tall, captivating, yet, impecunious gentlemen in a patched up tweed jacket, both, serenaded by the musical notes and lilac dusk breezes floating over pooled pillar candles, strung Japanese lanterns, multiple riveting conversations and hinting at a momentous rendezvous, by star struck water fountains in the rose gardens below. But, vision unwavering burnishes the magic of the ordinary, common place or even mundane, like a spell or incantation, it charms us when we are at leisure, maybe, when we see the tiny spiders performing gymnastics over the blossoming tomatillo plants, or the shadowy outline of cosmos on the pavement, or a black thrasher bird feather, of the slowly whirling pink grasses in the inundating light.

During a spell of neglecting to refill my hummingbird feeders with handmade nectar, I diverted my spare time to planting seeds, fertilizing and watering my garden consistently. On Saturday afternoon, while lazying in the balcony garden with cups of Irish coffee, I noticed a hummingbird fly into the covered garden with pots of jasmine, tuberose, black eyed Susan’s, flowering basil, cosmos, roses, sweet alyssum and Mexican sunflowers, and sip greedily from the roses and cosmos before flying away. I was bewitched by the sight, realizing how much I miss seeing the fast beating whizzing petite birds visit my garden, yet enthralled that by growing flowers they may still frequent my space and imbibe in the nectar they find therein.

By looking again, more carefully, calmly, methodically at the possessions we already have concealed away in delicate pouches or miniscule ceramic bowls, or barely holding up in creased envelopes in oyster pink Prada purses, we might be delighted, intrigued and captivated by what we discover. I recently took out my Elsa Peretti teardrop necklace out and considered the fragile silver chain and the evocative shape of a single drop of water, borne of insidious joy or recalcitrant sorrow. I hadn’t worn it for many years as there were two tiny knots in the chain that I couldn’t untangle and was too busy to take to Tiffany's to repair. Yet, once I took it out again, with a degree of maturity or skill that is the gift of growing older, I was able to focus on the minuscule tangles and unknot them slowly with concentration and patience. With the years, we gain talents, perspectives and abilities that are not immediately apparent. So it is with pleasure that I wear my long ago acquired and conscientious stored necklace, hoping it charms the seductive flow and cadence of the present time, to symbolize our physical ability to transform energy when we cry and to take the tears and alchemize it to realms of imagination, wonder and beauty.

Often during breaks between work, I succumbs to islands of fancy and I scribble shards of fancy and nonsense; I seek alchemy in every leaf and discover magic in every blossom, I leave secrets in the open meadows and plant revelations under the shadows of cedar trees, I traipse into comedies in the coffee beaned darkness and escape tragedies in the mirrored light, I linger in the borders between moments, in the beats between the notes and the spaces between the lines.

One is able to measure the healing quotient of a house by the vibrancy and the lushness of its plant inhabitants. I am aware of this co-relation, whenever I enter a space with emerald, jade, arsenic green, oyster or polka dotted pink, or hues of deep Provençal lavender, that appear content, peaceful, well tended, happily imbibing light showers, fending off the dusty cadence of windows, rising tenuously, joyously or even arrogantly from black pearled soil, that itself, is verdant, sufficiently hydrated, evidently fertile, and with lilting stems that have been either left to its own devices, or that been thoughtfully sculpted with the gardeners hands with a pair of much used, oiled and sharpened bonsai scissors. There is a tangible loving energy that emanates from these spaces, where the subtlest creatures are cared for and honored. For our lives are akin to sheafs of fragilely stroked watercolor botanical paintings, tied loosely with a nude pink silk ribbon, each offering a daily experiment in alchemy, practiced, by cutting off a branch to allow another, greater access to light and air, or by gently pulling off dried leaves, so that another might sprout from the green stem below, or to take a flourishing limb from one plant to embed into another pot so that it may root and create an independent plant. These houseplants allow us to deepen our connection to nature, to entwine with it unwavering flow, recklessly, by attempting to manipulate and control living entities, by inviting other species and personalities into our midst, by examining the visible patterns, arcs, shapes, forms and manifestations of botanicals, to attempt to understand its quiet language and to bind ourselves to them, within our own scant hours, upon this pale dot, that is planted itself, by some unknown gardener, into eternal space.

Spend the day looking at the shadows and the night looking at the stars. For there is magic and mystery in the hidden spaces that the illumination conceals, while there are truths, beyond the blatant solar flares that the softly lit moon shyly gives away. I linger in the early November breezes while the crescent moons silver filters indolently through a congress of palm tree leaves, into my Paris cup of chamomile tea. I lull in the lantana, basil, chrysanthemum, rose, tuberose, orange leaf and jasmine perfume. I am soothed by the abstract and bewitching melodies of the wind chimes, the song of the flowing water in the fountain, of old memories lingering within the fabric, weavings and leaves; of the faded firoza, mustard and cream kantha blanket, ivory paint chipped rattan chair and the new marigold plants. These ameliorate the current time, by reminding me of my grandparents garden, as a little girl, even though, the textures, fragrances and lyrics are carefully, and irreversibly separated, by a handful of decades from my contemplations, here, bathed in the heady new moon and the gently biting desert winter winds. But perhaps, there is more to consider, for garden perfumes, night nectar chasing moths, fluttery eucalyptus branches and the tricks of the heavenly bodies, might allow frames to shift and flirt unbeknownst with each other.

Can you hear the wondering butterfly and the prancing bee, whispering gently through the lavender breezes, follow me, follow me? 🌊

#design #healing #lifestyle #love #gypsy #style #bohemian #flowers #perfume #wellness #women #jewelry #tiffany #ideas #pleasure #magic #alchemy #shortstories #gardening

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theprintarea · 6 years

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Preoccupations

The following is a short piece of writing that accompanies my current exhibition, Preoccupations, at King Street Studios in Lancaster. I have also included some photographs of the exhibition and images of individual works. You can still catch the exhibition until 30th September:

Preoccupations, the title of this exhibition, refers to my ongoing engagement with two very different landscapes – Morecambe Bay, and the limestone hills near Farleton, Burton and Hutton Roof. Each of these places has its own unique qualities and characteristics that continue to draw me back time and time again.

The Bay at low tide is simply magical – an exposed, expansive space that is completely transformed by natural forces from one day to the next. I spend many of my evenings walking across the salt marshes and mudflats just off the coast at Bolton-le-sands – an area I have walked in and known since childhood. Essentially, this is where I go to relax and enjoy the sense of freedom that can be derived from open spaces. There is no pressure to work or obligations to fulfil. As such, it is likely that this is also the time that I am the most open to the world around me, and I have made many images as a result of my time there. What started as a kind of photographic relaxation has gained momentum and has become an important part of my Art practice.

Some of the most memorable experiences I have had whilst walking on The Bay have involved rapidly changing, dramatic atmospheric conditions. I have been captivated by the most extraordinary moments of light transforming the landscape around me, and then dissipating within seconds. It became increasingly important to make a record of these arresting events in time and translate them into paintings. I began by working with photographic images that I had snatched out of the moment to keep as a memento. I wondered if the strength of feeling at the point in time was somehow contained within the image itself – in the shape of a cloud or in the sweep of the horizon? The resulting works are thoughtfully and carefully constructed. I wanted to stay close to the physical characteristics and visual phenomena that make walking on The Bay such a unique and compelling experience. Yet somehow, whilst exploring the connections between the earth and the sky, the paintings have begun to take on a life of their own.

I have so much affection for the limestone hills, and the characterful trees and rock forms that I have met whilst walking there, I can’t stay away for too long. The elements that make up this landscape – rocky pavements scattered with vegetation; quarries and farmland; the elevated position and depth of view; and ever changing weather conditions, form a complicated visual feast that is challenging to draw and paint. I have been regularly walking and working in this area since 2003 and have come to know its footpaths and features like the back of my hand. Yet each experience there still offers something fresh and new.

Making work about this landscape has seemed so difficult at times I have doubted that I would produce anything beyond the small works in my notebooks. Looking back through these though, I am surprised by how much progress has gradually taken place over time. Dark, expressive charcoal drawings have evolved into more thoughtful line drawings, and even more recently work with colour. All of this has encouraged me to absorb and think about the landscape in different ways. Recently, whilst drawing a collection of limestone boulders at the edge of the fell, I noticed that I am often drawn to the relationships between objects in the landscape, and the spaces that hang in between them. I have since begun to focus in on this back at the studio. Perhaps this is a means of identifying elements that unify an often overwhelming and complex visual experience? It is all currently very much a work in progress.

Drift, Oil on panel, 30x30cm

A Storm Reflected, Oil on panel, 30x35cm

Sketchbook Painting 1

Sketchbook Painting 2

Sketchbook Painting 3

Sketchbook Painting 4

Sketchbook Painting 5

Sketchbook Painting 6

Standing Stones, Oil on Panel

I am always interested in reading your comments or answering your questions. Please share your thoughts with me using the form at the bottom of the page.

Preoccupations was originally published on Debbie Yare

#debbie yare #exhibition #preoccupations #artists on tumblr

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ourforbiddenworlds · 7 years

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One | Prelude

Part 1

“Sit down, proud, empty, hollow things that you are! Let this remind you why you once feared the dark…”

Prince Nuada, Hellboy: The Golden Army

Fatigue was not something she felt regularly. Feeling tired was one of the things she detested most. It clouded her mind and produced a state of constant frustration, something she could not control, especially when her mind remained active but her body did not obey as she wanted.

But that day, when exhaustion finally attacked her body, she preferred to let herself be carried away by drowsiness and to burrow under the thick blankets and soft sheets of her bed, surrendering to the calm and silence.

The curtains of her apartment were closed, as to not let the sunlight pass, which gradually began to set in the distant horizon, giving way to the darkness of the night. There was no one else in the room, she thought, watching the luminous numbers of the clock on her bedside table.

08:00 pm

Her perception of the world around her had always been her greatest gift and her worst curse. Everything seemed to emit its own individual noise and within her head became a continuous vibration, an incessant hum that she usually pushed to the darkest corner of her mind.

But in the security of her little room there was nothing more... she thought as her heavy eyelids closed, forcing herself to no longer worry about whatever was wreaking havoc on her mind but the murmur inside her brain was unbearable.

She breathed calmly. There was no pain, hunger, or cold between the sheets of her bed, far from the chaos of the outside world. In this dark and sheltered place she could let herself be carried away without the need to experience the overwhelming world around her. It was her Fortress.

In that place, inside that dark and messy room with small windows, belonging to an apartment on the fourth floor of an old industrial district building, she decided to let herself be carried away by overwhelming fatigue. With the phone unplugged and the door locked, nobody would bother her.

She felt peace. She felt safe.

But inside the complex web of her consciousness, she was running.

"The mind is a strange place." The male voice rumbled inside her skull, while her sleeping figure stirred uncomfortably beneath the sheets. "It is composed of our greatest desires, our deepest secrets, and also our darkest fears. There are things that not even the most intelligent of the living beings in this world would understand, which appear before us as confused dreams, marveling and even frightening with their surrealism..."

"But how to differentiate a dream created by our subconscious, a signal, or even a message?"

"A message?"

"Tell me, solnyshko, have you ever felt that what you are seeing in your dreams is not just the product of your mind?"

She was running... fast.

Behind was the familiar tranquility of that room, and the distant noise of New York's bustling streets faded into the distance, until the only sound she could hear were her quick footsteps on the stony ground of the forest, and the continual pounding of her blood against her ears, a hammer that drove her crazy.

The forest.

That damned forest.

She ran without stopping to look back, desperate to get out of the dark entrails of that forest as she stumbled over fallen logs, bruising and wounding her bare feet with sharp stones which sunk into the accumulated snow, without remembering very well of what she was fleeing so desperately.

She stumbled on a rocky slope, sliding over the snow and mud, falling fully to her knees, scraping the palms of her hands as she hit the ground. Her breathing was agitated, and the icy air in her lungs burned her aching chest.

She knew she should not be scared, because it was only a dream, even though some of it was based on a memory, buried deep in her consciousness. No, she should not be afraid, but even so, a disturbing feeling began to fill her senses. A hum... a buzzing began to cause chaos inside her head, clouding her judgment and bristling her skin, wrapping her with a coldness more intense than the snow that was falling over her hunched trembling figure.

The wooded expanse spread in all directions. The evergreen trees stretched their shadows over her head, rising into a dark sky where the full moon was clearly trimmed, covering the white snow in front of her with its silvery glow. But the darkness at her back was deeper, and it seemed to exhale, emitting a cold breath that prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. The light of the moon could not pierce that place, and she felt an inexplicable fear rise in her stomach.

“The moon is very bright, but I cannot see anything there. Why?”

A strange feeling of deja vu overwhelmed her, and though she repeated over and over again that nothing would happen, that there was no chance that something would hurt her in that strange place, her apprehension only grew. The cold, the darkness of the night behind her, the wet mud, and even the snow in contact with her bare skin... all seemed far too real.

Panic began to bubble inside her, and she needed all her self-control so she would not run away in terror from this imaginary danger.

"Focus." She stood up and wiped her scratched hands on her pajama bottoms. "It's just a dream, you're still in your bed, the cold is your imagination... everything here is your imagination. Nothing can hurt you."

She forced herself to walk, ignoring the pain of her numb feet from the snow, and the burning of her lungs exposed to the cold, still tired from her desperate race to nowhere. Her body was trembling visibly, and she hugged herself in vain, trying to shield her body from the relentless climate. She still had the thin sleeveless shirt she wore to bed, and her skin was exposed to the snowflakes that were falling around her. Even her tangled hair, which she had let loose before going to sleep, was partially covered with a thin layer of snow.

She could see a clearing in front of her, which glowed ghostly under the intense light of the moon. Without considering a logical explanation for her actions, she walked toward the center of it, dodging another fallen tree, although the rational side of her mind shouted that she should seek refuge and hide from what was hunting her.

"Hunting me? There is nothing following me, this is a dream, I will wake up in my bed at any moment." But there was a part of her, deep inside, that did not seem to want to be convinced by that statement.

The growing bed of snow now wrapped around her knees, preventing her from advancing, causing her to drag her feet along the damp ground hidden underneath. Everything was so bright around her that she had to close her eyes slightly, wondering what caused that phenomenon if it was only a few hours to midnight.

Her whole body felt numb, and she did not know if it was because she was already sleeping, or due to the intense cold that was relentlessly attacking her. She needed to get to the other side of the clearing quickly. The snow was falling harder and the trees creaked around her in the sudden wind. She was beginning to panic once more, feeding the sensation of fear and anguish within her chest. It grew in intensity, emitting a heat she had not experienced before.

She hated feeling this way, afraid to be stalked by a nonexistent force, vulnerable to something she could not identify. She had no control over it.

Her breath swirled in front of her in a cloud of glittering crystals, and as she reached the center of the clearing she gasped for the effort to keep herself balanced in that cold wet sea of snow. She had the impression that the forest itself did not want her to go any further, eating her alive with its elements.

"Just a little more... you have to cross before him."

She stopped, confused by the command her brain had given. She took a deep breath, wet due to the snow and half dead from the cold, not daring to look back.

"There is no one else here but me ... please let there be no one else."

But even when she refused to think about it, she forced herself to believe that everything was in her imagination, but the feeling that followed was absolute fear and terror, accompanied by a haunting presentiment that froze her to the bones, already cold and numb.

Trembling, covered in snow, buried to the knees, disarmed and with the ghostly full moon as the only source of illumination in the midst of that endless forest, she wondered what kind of meaning could it all have. But before moving forward, a subtle purr behind her, followed by a low grunt, answered her question.

She did not need to turn around to listen... she felt the presence behind her. The horrible certainty that something that was not a product of her imagination was following her settled into her thoughts, and along with it, the horrible feeling that it had been stalking her for a long time, long before she fell into that dream-like trance.

She did not need to turn her head completely to catch a glimpse of the pair of red eyes watching her from the darkness, two brilliant crimson fires, the only pinch of color in the middle of that sea of impenetrable blackness.

And then she remembered why she'd been running.

She leapt forward, her heart pounding wildly inside her chest, and a new overwhelming force burned her veins, giving back some of the heat she'd lost. She was terrified but at the same time wanted to survive, and that was the switch she needed to escape from the creature’s claws.

So she fled once more, before the cold and the fear could paralyze her limbs completely, leaving her at the mercy of the beast. The creature moved with her too, entering the clearing, and she watched, horrified, as the darkness seemed to swallow the bright light of the moon.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion due to the action of the adrenaline. The pain in her muscles was nothing compared to the fervent need to save her life. And the creature lost no time in following her, dragging the darkness in its wake, like a demon coming out of the bowels of hell, only its blood-red eyes were visible in that impenetrable darkness, nailed to the trembling woman's back like arrows cutting the distance to their target.

She cursed herself for her stupidity, as her gasps became harder and she almost fell once more over the snow that was now covering her waist. She was exposed and didn’t seek refuge, no... she had left herself exposed to the beast in a clearing to the powerful moonlight, and now she had to run for her life.

The hum inside her head increased in intensity as she gasped again, controlling the urge to bring her hands to her temples due to the growing migraine. It was a low murmur, like having two hundred voices talking at the same time inside her skull.

The snow was a big problem, it made her slip and lose her balance every time she made the futile attempt to get out of that place, she needed a handle to help herself, and desperately looked up, looking for some nearby branch to use as leverage. Behind her, the creature seemed to have no difficulty cutting the snow accumulated with its own body, dragging the darkness in its wake.

She gripped the lower branch of a nearby tree with both hands, the texture blistering her skin, but she ignored the pain as she used all the strength of her arms to lift the weight of her body and dig out of that icy ocean around her. She swung her body forward, propelling herself and falling with a hard impact into a less covered area. Her ankles and calves resented the fall, but she stood up with shaking legs, taking a deep breath of the cool night air before she continued her flight.

The fire that the adrenaline had ignited inside her began to fade and the buzz inside her head pierced her brain painfully, pressing the sides of her temples and clouding her vision momentarily. She put her hands to her forehead, and she could feel the blood flowing from her injured palms, soaking the cold skin of her face with its warmth, but the blood froze at the contact of the icy air, like her breath in a cloud of frosted crystals. Her body began to lose strength from the pain, as she ran terrified through the trees. The moonlight no longer illuminated her way, and the creature ran after her at a speed she knew she was not going to be able to escape.

He stretched his long, cadaverous fingers toward her, clawing toward her skin before he even touched her, and her mind screamed over the deafening murmur of those two hundred voices. The world around her seemed to collapse in on itself, as everything disintegrated and transfigured in front of her. The trees were now just shadows stretching their imposing figure toward the night sky. The snow turned into a constant wind, and the ground spun at an impossible angle, and the woman, caught in a sudden moment of intense fear, fell away with it.

The impact on the hard ground caused the air to rush out of her lungs, losing her breath while lying on her back. She was paralyzed for a few moments as the world around her stabilized again. She rolled over and controlled the urge to vomit, trying to observe where she had fallen, disoriented and feeling a horrible pain in her whole body.

“Oh god, what the hell was that?”

Everything was completely covered with absolute darkness, the frozen snow no longer falling from the night sky or the coldness consuming her numbed body, she was no longer in the endless forest and the full moon was no longer illuminating her with its silvery glow. For a moment she thought she was on the floor of her bedroom, having rolled out of her bed while the nightmare attacked her senses, but the surface beneath her hands was soft to the touch, a carpet belonging to a long corridor. And when she looked up she saw that it was flanked on both sides by a long row of identical seats.

Her senses seemed to be blunted by the impact. She decided to lie on her stomach, careful not to make much noise, as she struggled to regulate her breathing to a more rhythmic pace. She tried to listen for anything, or even pierce the prevailing darkness by sharpening her sight. Soon she realized that she was not alone.

As her eyes began to get acclimated to the dim light inside this strange place, she observed it from her position face down on the ground, and while she did, a shiver ran through her body. The rows of seats on either side of her were not empty. The silhouettes of the sleeping people were softly drawn into the reigning darkness, but all of them were quiet and silent, showing no sign of being disturbed by her sudden arrival, they were all seemingly caught in a dream too deep to even care for the new presence of the woman, but something warned her there was more to it than that.

It was too quiet. She noticed it from the moment she arrived, but had not paid any attention to it until her senses returned to normal. She managed to get to her feet, feeling her whole body protesting the movement, and for a few minutes she only watched the row of seats and the people who were there.

“A train?”

The woman noticed the area around her. The ceiling was low and vaulted, and when she got to her feet she almost brushed her head against the compartments that were just above the sleeping passengers. The seats were comfortable, and the windows were small and rounded, with sliding blinds, all lowered now. She approached one of the only empty seats, reaching out and opening the closed blind of one of the windows, careful not to make too much noise. The artificial light that shone on the outside barely penetrated into the darkness of the cabin, but it allowed her to see clearly a large expanse of deserted space and concrete floor, the enormous height to which they were. The silhouette of a tower with flickering lights in the distance.

“A plane.”

She watched their faces in the darkness, walking cautiously on the soft carpet without making a sound. They were men and women, old and young, seated next to each other, calm and without any sign of violence or disturbance in their expressions. Some of them still with their cell phones or other electronic devices in their hands or resting on their laps ... but they did not seem to notice the woman watching them carefully as she walked passed, taking care not to touch them. Each had the same apparent state of unconsciousness, as if a spell had fallen on their bodies and plunged them into the deepest of dreams.

“Do not touch them, you don’t know what is going on. Just watch.”

An uneasiness began to take form inside her chest, growing slowly as she reached the end of that long corridor, still watching the sleeping figures sitting in silence, showing no sign that they were going to to wake up. They lay unconscious, their heads resting on the backs of their seats, too quiet, and in a deep part inside her head she knew that something was wrong, she was missing something essential.

The atmosphere in that place was cold, but not as it had been in the forest she had come from, yet her skin seemed to react to the difference in temperature and she rubbed her bare arms unconsciously.

She tried to listen once more, forcing her senses beyond the countless numbers of seats and people around her, fighting the headache she was feeling, and trying to pierce the strange sensation that invaded her consciousness and turned off her perception.

Anxiety began to mount inside her chest. Her head was spinning uncontrollably and the rational part of her brain seemed to be trying to pull down the smoky curtain that numbed her. She put her hand on one of the seats, while the nausea overwhelmed her again.

She looked once more at the faces of the people around her, blinking rapidly as the state of confusion began to collapse, and now she could see every detail of their calm faces, their bodies like statues. At first she had thought it was because she was in a dream, and that all her senses were turned off because of the dreamlike confusion that her subconscious was creating around her, but now that her head began to slowly stabilize, and her perception seemed to come alive again in that strange place, the horror replaced the anxiety when her ears could not catch anything but the rapid pounding of her own heart, and her other sense could not perceive anything but absolute silence.

Silence.

Something clicked in her brain as the gears began to work once more. There was too much silence, and that disturbed her greatly.

Because there was nothing else.

No sound came from the people sleeping around her, no noise, movement, or even the familiar murmur inside her head.

“Oh God.”

They were not asleep.

“Oh God no.”

They were dead.

She stumbled as she backed down the aisle, her eyes never leaving the marbled faces around her. How did she not realize it before? How could she have missed something so important? All of this was too real to be just a dream, but even the irrational part inside her (of which she always felt ashamed) did not want to accept such a horrible thought. Crossing the separation curtains that seemed to wrap her body when she hit them, she ran into the same scene, again and again: hundreds of bodies sitting in their seats, lifeless, and a sepulchral silence that invaded it all.

“What the hell happened here?”

This was not a dream.

The terror, the nausea, and the adrenaline running through her veins were too real, and with every passing minute, her senses seemed to come to life. She stumbled clumsily into something metallic and cursed under her breath, realizing that she had arrived in a room wider and devoid of seats, but unlike the passenger cabin, where she could glimpse a vestige of light, this place was in complete darkness.

She tried to reach for anything in front of her as she walked blindly, hoping to find something to grasp so it could guide her way. Her eyes still could not penetrate the darkness, and she feared she might collide with whatever had crossed her path. She felt the cold metal surface of the plane's cart, pushing it forward, waiting for it to hit the wall at the end of the room, but the sound that followed the creaking of the little wheels sliding down the carpet was enough to make her heart leap into her throat, cutting off her breath completely.

The object hit something in its path, stopping the rhythmic chirp of the wheels, and then a thunderous metallic noise broke the silence. It raised the hairs on her arms and caused her to retreat instinctively until her back was against the wall. The cold material that covered the cabin sticking to her sweaty skin.

It was only a few seconds of noise, which rumbled against the walls of the room and into her skull, furthering the headache that had returned. Around her things were becoming clearer and she could now hear more clearly, her senses began to intensify, leaving behind that veil that had blunted her perceptions, but also gave way to the cold of the environment, accompanied of a nauseating and piercing odor, that stung her eyes.

Still with her back against the wall, and breathing as calmly as her lungs allowed her, she slowly approached the source of the noise, dragging her bare feet and trying to feel with the tip of her toes the change in the surface of the floor.

She felt the carpet as she walked without looking, until she came upon the hard, cold surface of something that felt like a metal door, unlike the floor of the passenger cabin. And then, emptiness.

She breathed. The cargo compartment. Her mind worked tirelessly, trying to rationalize in the middle of her panic.

“The cargo compartment is open, so the noise, the cart dropped into the cargo compartment.”

“The cargo compartment is open.”

The smell that flooded the small room was stronger in that place, and its intensity gave her a strange sense of deja vu. Something in her head told her she must remember the odor from somewhere, maybe her chemistry classes? She had not been good at science, but some chemical compound that evaporates into the air could explain the state of the plane's passengers. Wouldn't it be dangerous for her to inhale it also?

She tried to push away the veil of uncertainty that had invaded her mind, trying to focus on the present once more.

No. She was not there anyway.

Well, she was there... but not in that way.

She knelt to the floor with heart pounding, touching with trembling hands the edge of that dark abyss. Her eyes had already become accustomed to the lack of light, being able to see the dimensions of the square door on the floor in front of her, but below, in the entrails of the enormous machine of more than 200 feet in length, and with capacity to carry almost 300 living souls on board, there was only impenetrable darkness.

“Why is it open?”

A part of her mind, the most rational part, the one that often warned her of danger, told her that she must quickly withdraw from that place, even hide, and wait for that strange episode to end, in order to return to her bed and the security of the four walls of her apartment. But another part of her mind, that part that usually governed her most impulsive decisions, whose consequences had governed much of her life, begged her with overwhelming force to lean toward the compartment’s opening, into the darkness. She needed to get more clues about what had happened there, and her mind told her that everything she should know was in there.

When two red orbs shone in the darkness several meters below her, she recoiled with such a strong impulse that her back hit the wall where she had been reclined minutes before.

“No. Oh no, no, no...”

She gasped heavily at the impact, but the pain in her muscles was nothing like the pain inside her head. She managed to hear the sound of something slipping into the darkness of the cargo compartment, a strange purr accompanied by the blink of those strange blood-red orbs, but the buzzing inside her head was too painful to be able to focus on anything but retreat blindly to the cabin full of corpses, gripping her skull with both shaking hands. Gasping for the effort to block the turbulent intrusion whose consequences, she was sure would not differ from the hundreds of souls lying dead around her.

She screamed, holding her head firmly in both hands as she struggled to escape that intrusion, mentally and physically, backing and crashing into one of the seats, almost falling on the lap of one of the motionless passengers, a little girl watching her with huge eyes open, devoid of life.

“Oh God… FOCUS!”

She screamed in the midst of an intense episode of panic, and her despair grew as she could not hear her own cries in the great hum that vibrated incessantly inside her mind. She knew that if this continued her consciousness would be crushed under the enormous weight of her attacker's mind.

“Focus! Block the damn attack, block the shit out of it!”

She stopped in the middle of the corridor, one knee on the floor and her hands still over her ears. Her gasps whimpered with pain, hyperventilating harshly.

She remembered those eyes now, in that damned snowy forest, so long ago, she had dreamed about that night again. She also remembered the hum she had felt fluttering over the surface of her psyche, and the sensation it had produced at the edges of her perception. It had not been so strong back then, intrusive yes, but not so strong and so wild, determined to kill.

The first wall gave her a few seconds to catch her breath, but it was knocked down under the weight of the adversary like a blade cutting through softened butter. She hardened her jaw and gnashed her aching teeth, resting both knees on the floor and her right hand on one of the armchairs that was at her side.

Her hand touched a soft object. She grasped it without thinking twice, opening her mouth with effort because of the tension in her muscles, and closing her teeth on the rectangular object, biting with all her strength. A wallet, she thought, feeling the taste of leather flood her mouth.

“One more time.”

The wall she used to shield her mind did not collapse immediately, and she pushed her own psyche against it, expanding it forward, feeling the resistance and the sharp edges of the strange and invasive consciousness, which vigorously attacked her when the creature noticed the new obstacle. Before he could tear down that wall, he had to cross the defensive expanse of her own psyche and the new wall she had built to replace the one that was now crumbling.

For a moment she wondered why he did not attack her physically, why he took refuge in the darkness and had chosen this method to incapacitate her, or even kill her, as she was now sure the creature had done with all the passengers on that plane. Her psyche weakened for a moment because of her incessant questions, which allowed the creature to pierce it like a battering ram, striking against the third wall with an overwhelming force.

“Shit.”

She repeated the process, her eyes clouded, her jaw and all the muscles of her body aching, and her brain a mess. The passengers should have experienced only a few seconds of horrible agony before perishing under the crushing weight that had shattered their fragile brain activity.

“I am not them.” She thought as she felt the third wall begin to fall apart, while she expanded the force of her psyche against the intrusion, fighting against the invading enemy. And in fact that was all of this, a clash of opposing forces, and in the end she would lose sooner or later due to mental fatigue.

Above the hum of the attack and her labored breathing, she perceived a strange, non-offensive force, a murmur, almost like a voice, which purred around the edges of her mind. The force of the intrusive mind relaxed for a moment, while her walls remained waiting, alert to a new attack. She kept her eyes closed and when she opened them, fear paralyzed her.

The creature with bright red eyes stared at her, only a few feet away, hidden in the shadows of the cabin. Had he been there all that time?

She needed to run away from the creature like she did in the snowy forest, but she was paralyzed on the floor and her legs did not obey her.

She remained kneeling and paralyzed, the wallet still between her teeth, catching her breath and trembling with fear. She felt a desperate need to wake up, to run, to hide from those deep red eyes. But the creature remained in his place, watching her, and she felt the force of the beast's mind retreat slowly over the ramshackle remains of her own, but the hum remained there, scratching at her conscience.

The purring, this time, was outside her mind. The creature advanced slowly, flooding the passenger cabin with that horrible smell, which now she could now identify as the acid and nauseating smell of ammonia, but she could not see him well in that darkness, rather than a large shadow that flooded everything and in whose depths two crimson orbs shone clearly. The creature gave a low growl, and as her mind heard began to buzz again, she realized, it was looking for a door to enter.

“No.”

An inhalation; an exhalation. The creature tried once more, she knew he wanted to talk, communicate within her mental defenses, intimidate her with his psychic strength. She could perceive the curiosity in the creature's mind, but also the frustration. He had wanted to kill her easily, but he had not been able to do it, not like he did with the people around her.

A new attempt, the same answer.

“NO.”

He went a step further, but when she got to her feet, the creature stopped. She knew he could not hurt her there, she was not physically in that place, and despite being able to touch things and perceive physical aspects of that reality, if he wanted to hurt her, it would not cause damage to her physical body, right?

She remembered something about her past, but she pushed the memory away quickly, trying to calm herself for a moment as she kept the walls of her mind alert to another clash of the creature who still watched her from the shadows. Opening her mouth, she dropped the wallet, and it fell to her feet with a thud.

She was far away from that place, and her body was nothing more than the projection of her own being, her own mind, he could not hurt her.

“You know that's not true, there are other ways that he can hurt you.”

As she struggled with her fears and doubts, the creature watched her strangely. Evidently he had not expected her presence, and curiosity was more due to surprise than anything else, and she wondered briefly what would happen to her if she did not wake up quickly.

A laugh was followed by a hiss and a flicker of those red eyes like incandescent embers in the dark. She frowned and made a gesture to speak, to say something, but what followed that action made her stop, at the same time she feel her blood freeze in her veins and a sense of horror paralyzed her to the core.

“Are you lost, creature? Why are you afraid of me? Why do not you let me in, so I could help you?”

“Oh God.”

“You know it's useless to fight against me, you'll lose, sooner or later...”

“No, oh please. NO.”

She was prepared for the attacks and thrust of that strange consciousness into her own, but hearing that voice in her head, that strange purr invading her mind, violating her defenses, caused in her a shock so strong that she could not do anything more than to watch those strange red orbs as he spoke inside her head.

“Humans… They have always believed that they are the most powerful beings, but it’s time for them to embrace defeat.”

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to lift the walls, trying to push the mental force of that beast out of her head, that psychic intrusion that was playing with her mind, exploring her consciousness. She blocked his progress, but his words kept echoing inside her skull, clucking with amusement as he spoke.

“Sooner or later, everyone will meet defeat against me.”

This time, when the exploratory hum brushed the edges of her mind, she pushed the intrusive force so hard that she finally managed to block his attack and seal the doors of her own mind, shielding her and feeling how she was free of all consciousness alien to her own. Her action was motivated by rage, the only force that was more powerful than her fatigue and pain, as she watched the creature approach once more.

“Have you come here to destroy me?”

“Get out of my mind… GO AWAY AND LET ME GO!”

“You cannot win, foolish thing! I'm the drinker of men... The Devourer of Souls.”

While he spoke, his shadow was enveloping her, rising above her, touching the ceiling of the cabin that was beginning to blur before her eyes. In her desperation and fury, she pushed her own mind, feeling a heat flooding her head, along with a gushing pain due to the intense force to thrust, push forward, perforate the barrier that her enemy had left down to communicate with her... And in the midst of her blurred vision, she saw the creature's eyes grow with surprise.

“Moya golova moya, ty, sukin syn!”

The creature recoiled, releasing a loud growl, and she could feel it, the immense power of his mind that dwarfed hers, but at the same time, his surprise and disbelief, and the murmur of something else, something that made her sick, feeling terribly small before that creature, yet she advanced... needing to see, wanting to know what it was, feeling another presence, no... multiple presences? And a smaller one…

“What the…?”

She needed to see... she wanted to see, but as she tried to go further, the beast shifted in front of her, growling thunderously in her head. The creature's incredulity at the intrusion of the woman was quickly replaced by a fury that pierced her defenses, and it took her breath away with an overwhelming intensity.

“STULTUM!”

There was no time for retreat, as she felt and saw the power of the creature slashing her mind with pure rage, at the same time he lashed against her with his gigantic body. But before she felt his disgusting breath above her, or his huge claws scratching her skin, her whole world began to crumble, and the last thing she saw was the beast stopping suddenly, his red eyes watching her, hesitating, then retreating at an incredible speed, as the escape door of the passenger cabin opened, letting in a vestige of light which became a mere haze in the air before her eyes, while everything faded around her, and her aching mind fell into a whirlwind of confused images and sounds.

But the creature was still inside her head, and seemed determined not to let her go, though the only thing left of that hideous scene was the red orbs watching her in the shadows, and her tormented mind struggling desperately to free herself from the clutches of the beast.

She fell once more into the snow, or so she believed. Everything was cold... and the creature laughed sardonically over her, staring at her with eyes like blood, growing and covering everything in his path. The bodies of the unfortunate passengers disappeared under the weight of his shadow, and the shattered edges of her numbed mind receded at the thrust of that alien, imposing, and overwhelming consciousness. Even the bright Sun that had suddenly appeared above her head began to disappear, as the shadow continued to grow and grow, engulfing the world.

“It was the sun, all this time ... the sun, not the moon, and for that reason it was so bright against the snow.”

The last thing she saw was a huge ring of orange light contrasted in a sky as black as the shadow that attacked her. She managed to free herself with what was left of her strength, pushing the intrusion with an angry and piercing scream. She felt him withdraw reluctantly, seemingly tired of the resistance that offered the woman's mind, moving away to give way to the haze of her own dream.

The scene around her was of absolute darkness and a void that could only be compared to that of her own torn mind, before which she could do anything but surrender to the feeling of extreme exhaustion, and as she fell into a sea of shadows and pain, she thought for one last time, that this must be how one feels when one is dying.

#the strain fx #the night eternal #our forbidden worlds #fanfiction #the strain #ofw #one #1.1

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alternis-dim · 7 years

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I’ve uploaded my first fanfiction! I’ll post it here below the cut after the summary as well. comments and pointers are much appreciated!

Summary:

With the Grimleal disbanded, Grima defeated, and Ylisse's future and safety assured, life across all reaches of the continent has returned to normal. Robin, retrieved a month ago after his long absence following the Shepherds' final battle, now has an uncomfortable amount of time left alone to his thoughts, and his questions always circle back to what is left unanswered about his past. Chrom has finally decided that it's time to consult his tactician to find out what's wrong.

Robin often spent cool evenings such as this outside of the castle and on the grassy grounds. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable indoors, of course. As a tactician, he was accustomed to dimly lit rooms, crammed full of maps and books and quite often other people, and never did he feel suffocated while working in his element. That said, leaving the castle still felt like a breath of fresh air. As twilight fell, the man walked past gates and guards, handing out polite greetings as he went, before coming to a stop at a small ledge that overlooked the sinking sun. With a small groan, he leaned down carefully and took a seat, his cloak settling around his legs.

He sat like this for a while, watching the sky turn from blue to orange, then as the hues darkened to red and streaked the clouds with pink. It was times like these that Robin was most appreciative of everything he and the Shepherds had been through. These quiet, peaceful moments were no longer threatened by an impending apocalypse. He understood that he was pivotal to the assurance that the future would never be plagued by Grima's darkness again, and he knew that even if he hadn't woken up on another sunny field, it still would have all been worth it. It was for this reason that he had been most grateful of his return a month ago and his chance to experience the future he helped build. And yet...

"Hey."

The deep voice startled Robin out of his musings. He glanced over his shoulder, then smiled when he recognized the tall figure silhouetted by the red sky.

"Good evening, Chrom. Can't say I expected to see you out here."

"I could say the same to you," Chrom started as he strolled over, "but that would be a lie. You've been spending a lot of time at this spot, haven't you?" He took a seat on Robin's right, stretching his legs out in front of him as he leaned back on his arms.

"What can I say?" Robin chuckled as he turned his head back towards the sunset. "It's a beautiful view. It's not so bad to go from the war room to this."

Chrom nodded in absentminded agreement, but he seemed too distracted to pay much heed to the painted sky his companion was admiring. "It is a nice place." His gaze shifted back to Robin's face. "But I know you, and I'm sure that there's more going on in your head than just the scenery."

The way the corners of Robin's lips tightened slightly was a subtle but absolute confirmation. "You aren't wrong. But a tactician should always be thinking, right?"

"You're not planning tactics here," he responded with just a hint of exasperation. "I know you well enough to know that you've been out here thinking a lot more personally than where our troops should be deployed next." He turned his body to face his friend now. "I came out here to find you because as your Exalt and your closest friend, it's my job to hear what I can do for you. And you have more than enough reason to be thinking like this. By the gods, you practically came back from the dead!"

Robin tried to shrug it off as he let his gaze wander back upwards, avoiding eye contact with the insistent prince. "I promise I'm not trying to be selfish or self-sacrificing here. I've done enough of that already." He made quick eye contact, but the weak joke hadn't provoked any sort of reaction, so he looked away once more. "No, it's nothing important like that. Just some unanswered questions."

"Ah." Chrom nodded in understanding. It was true that Robin was still a mysterious individual despite the many answers they had gotten about aspects of his past. "How long has this been bothering you?"

Robin rubbed small circles on the back of his hand with his thumb where the mark had once been as he pondered the question. "Oh, the last couple weeks, I suppose?" The circles started to get faster. "It's just... strange, you know. To know that you were marked the moment you were born. To meet, and speak with, and kill another version of yourself that took the wrong path..." His voice wavered a bit, but he continued to act as if they were discussing the weather. "To know that maybe the only reason you turned out alright was that you couldn't remember anything about your old life."

Chrom was taken aback. "How can you think that? Robin, memory or no memory, you're a good man," he insisted. Robin cut him off.

"That's what the mystery for me is. Maybe it really was all dependent on my memory." Chrom looked ready to interject, but Robin pressed on. "Please, hear me out. It would be ridiculous for me to deny that I've done good things, and I'm proud to be nothing like Validar or Grima. But I still have one pressing question, and I've been sitting here every night trying to answer it."

"And that is?"

"That Robin from the first timeline, the one we fought... I got premonitions after he tried and failed to pass on his memories. That's where I got the amnesia," he said, tapping his head. "And you know that. We used those memories to save your life. But as I replay that, I can't help but think to myself, 'What's really so different about how it happened then and how it happened the second time?'"

"What does that have to do with- oh." Chrom whispered the last word as he finally realized what he was saying. "Your memories."

"Yeah." Robin shifted, feeling awkward now that the illusion of aloofness was gone. Chrom sure had a way with being direct. "The first Robin still became your tactician and still ended up battling at the altar. And we all know how he turned out."

Chrom needed a moment to formulate a response. This was something that had never even occurred to him. Of course, he reasoned, Robin was a thinker. It was only logical that he would try to piece together his old identity from the little he had learned since then. Comparing and contrasting the experiences of his two iterations was one way to go about it. After a long pause, he finally spoke. "You two still could have had different experiences from the time you met me. I wouldn't make the leap that it all lies in your past."

"I appreciate it, Chrom," he answered just a tad wearily. "But there are still more questions, even just in this timeline. For example..." He stretched his left arm out, letting the sleeve hang straight down. The three violet eyes of Grima were clear as day on the black canvas. "Why do I have this? These are Plegian robes. Validar said my mother took me far from the country, but these tell me that didn't stay true. Not to mention that his hierophant wore the exact same ones." He didn't need to say the rest of what that statement implied. The other me we fought wore the exact same ones.

"Hm." Chrom couldn't come up with a response, so he let him continue.

"Also, why did I know a thing about tactics?" he continued, agitated. "Tome magic, swordplay, those have reasonable explanations. Of course I would know self-defense if I was running from a cult. But tactics? What purpose would a runaway have to learn how to command an army?" He let it hang in the air for a moment as he regathered some of his lost composure. "Sorry, I'm a little worked up. But the worst part is that I still can't answer these questions. I don't know why I was in a field. I don't know who or where my mother is or if she's even alive. I don't know what or who I got involved with before you all found me. But the more I try to answer that question, the more I believe that I don't want to know." He folded his knees to his chest and leaned his head on them, and although his eyes were trained on the darkening horizon, they were glassed over with a faraway look.

"Robin." Chrom reached out a hand and planted it reassuringly on his shoulder. "You should have told me sooner."

Robin turned his head and met Chrom's eyes, letting out an airy chuckle. "Yeah. I'm not sure why I held out. Old habits, I suppose. Bad habits."

Chrom squeezed Robin's shoulder reassuringly. "It's what friends are here for. You didn't really forge all these bonds for nothing, did you? You can use them for more than coming back from the dead, you know." The corners of Robin's eyes crinkled with a smile at this comment. Chrom returned the grin. "Let me ask you something, Robin."

"Yes?"

"Are you a good person?"

"All these concerns aside... I've been told that by more than one person."

"And do you believe it?"

"...Yes."

"Then there's your answer." Chrom slapped his friend on the back, then withdrew his hand, leaning back on both arms again. "I can't answer your questions about your past, and unless your amnesia ever resolves, you won't either. But if it helps, then picture your amnesia as a new awakening."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that it's absolute proof that you're a good man. Whether you make the assumption that you were good or bad before, it didn't matter once you forgot. But when I first met you, you valued honesty and innocent lives, and you were eager to have a chance to head a force that does good for Ylisse. At your core, when all your experiences are stripped away, that's the person you are."

Robin nodded, feeling something in his chest ease. "Chrom... thank you." He stood up, dusting off the hem of his cloak with the back of his hand before offering it to him. "For everything."

"Of course." Chrom grabbed the outstretched hand and hoisted himself back up. The two of them stood for just a moment, watching as the sun dipped below the skyline and the first stars began to speck the sky. Then, without a word, the two of them turned back towards the castle.

#fire emblem #fire emblem awakening #robin #chrom #fanfiction #star writes sometimes #mannnn it's been ages since I've written and I forgot how fun it is

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entergamingxp · 4 years

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Horizon Zero Dawn’s PC port is deeply disappointing • Eurogamer.net

Horizon Zero Dawn has its own particular place of honour in a phenomenal line-up of PlayStation 4 first-party exclusives – an open world delivered with some of the best technology in the business, combined with the gameplay finesse and polish of a more linear experience, humanised with some of the most impressive character rendering of the generation. When Hideo Kojima went shopping for a game engine to deliver his vision for Death Stranding, it was Guerrilla Games’ Decima technology he settled upon – and can there be any higher praise than that? In the wake of Kojima Productions’ generally excellent Death Stranding PC port, expectations were sky-high for Horizon’s PC conversion. With that in mind, it’s both baffling and extremely disappointing to see the port fall so far short of expectations.

Make no mistake, the core game is all there. It is indeed the Complete Edition. It’s still a unique experience for PC users, simply because multi-platform projects and even the odd PC exclusive aren’t built quite like this. Horizon Zero Dawn looks and feels a class apart in many ways – and yes, you can increase graphics settings and improve resolutions and frame-rate compared to the PlayStation 4 and PS4 Pro originals. However, where the game falls short is in its many technical failings.

When a game is content-complete but requires polish and bug-testing, it’s considered beta code – and that’s the impression we got from this conversion when we tested it, to the point where much of the reviewing process has been a case of testing and re-testing the game on multiple pieces of hardware to answer a simple question – is there something wrong with our kit or is the game at fault? It’s a little bit of one and a lot of the other, but the bottom line is that there are many technical issues that need addressing to the point where not all of them can be included in this article. A 35GB day one patch arrived on the same day as the embargo lift – hence the delay in publishing our review – but the many and varied problems are still in effect in the code that makes its way to players.

It starts with the initial ‘optimisation’ phase on boot. Like a number of DX12 and Vulkan titles, shaders are compiled and stored the first time you play the game – as opposed to generating them during play, potentially inducing stutter. It’s an extended process to say the least, it adds to the storage footprint, and if your drive fills up during this procedure, the game crashes to desktop – sometimes with an ominous ‘fatal error’. While testing and re-testing across systems, the process could often stall and lock-up even when required storage was available. Beyond that, when I booted the game on my 4K screen in full-screen mode, something didn’t look right. It turned out that Horizon was rendering at 4K, downscaling to 1080p, then upscaling to 4K again. Switching to the borderless display option fixes this (albeit introducing other issues), as does swapping back to full-screen mode from borderless. Bizarre.

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The Digital Foundry PC tech review for Horizon Zero Dawn.

Once past these issues, things do look up. Horizon Zero Dawn offers a large amount of options to tweak, scaling graphical elements both higher and lower than the default PlayStation 4 presentation. Better still, the inclusion of an ‘original’ graphics preset is a great touch – and it’s similar to the ‘default’ option on Death Stranding, where the settings are essentially a match for the PS4 version. You can define the console experience as the baseline and scale up – or down – from there. However, similar to Death Stranding’s PC port, while the settings are there to push to higher quality levels, the actual improvements to visuals are thin on the ground.

So, for example, the reflections setting improves the quality of screen-space reflections – and the high preset is indeed of a higher quality than console-standard medium. However, the practical difference is minimal and the main disadvantages of SSR are not mitigated. A game based mostly in nature has very little in the way of reflective surfaces meaning that where there is a gain, it’s not really significant. Similarly, the only real difference in shadow quality at the highest setting comes in the first cascade right in front of Aloy. It helps a touch with self-shadowing but not to any great degree. It doesn’t change the range of shadow cascades or the distances at which they ‘pop’. Even the texture setting is a little strange. Pushing the setting up increases texture quality further into the distance. There’s the perception of increased detail, but it can also produce aliasing issues – leaving it on console quality medium is just fine. Speaking of texture quality, the anisotropic filtering setting simply does not work. My advice? Set it manually to 16x in your GPU control panel for an actual quality boost.

Various anti-aliasing options are available but of all of them, only TAA really does a good job – and thankfully it has a minimal performance hit. Two settings I do recommend boosting from console quality are model detail and volumetric clouds. The former increases the distance at which certain patches of grass or objects render further away from Aloy, reducing the pop-in effect – and it also increases the distance at which the higher quality versions of a model are rendered. So trees into the distance will look less cardboard and ‘2D-like’ and show off more individual branches and leaves. Guerrilla’s cloud rendering system is brilliant but computationally expensive. The default medium setting has some artefacting, but there are obvious improvements shifting to high and ultra. High delivers the best balance of bang vs buck.

If you were looking to utilise the game’s dynamic resolution scaling for balancing performance, I do not recommend it at all, as it is overzealous to the extreme and coarse in its application. I observed a scene rendering at 55fps using native 4K at ultra settings on an RTX 2080 Ti, where DRS should deliver full frame-rate with a minimal resolution drop. Engaging dynamic resolution scaling did indeed get me to 60fps but pixel-counting saw that the game had switched resolution to 1080p to get the job done. To claw back a mere 5fps, the game had quartered resolution to do it. I’d recommend leaving DRS disabled.

Let’s talk optimised settings – my selection for the best bang for the buck across the game’s many tweakables. As things stand, console quality ‘original’ – with 16x anisotropic filtering forced via the control panel and TAA – will do just fine, but feel free to add ultra model quality, high shadows and high clouds. Ultra settings are nice and appreciated, but there are few meaningful visual returns. You’re better off spending that performance elsewhere, which brings me onto the crucial matter at hand: I’m privileged enough to run high-end hardware and put simply, I had a hard time getting this game looking good and running well, even on a Ryzen 9 3900X paired with an RTX 2080 Ti. Meanwhile, performance on my mainstream class rig was way off pace.

Average frame-rates from the benchmark don’t tell the full story. Apparently, I can run Horizon Zero Dawn at native 4K at an average of 78 frames per second on an RTX 2080 Ti. What it doesn’t tell you is that the actual game experience will be a fair bit lower than that, with frequent stutters. Stutters in excess of 40ms, 70ms or over 100ms can happen as a cutscenes starts or ends, when a camera changes position in a cutscene, when a UI element updates for a quest, or when you are just walking around in the world not doing anything special in particular. This happens reproducibly across multiple graphics card and CPUs and chosen resolutions, impacting the fluidity of the game, producing an experience less consistent overall that the PlayStation 4 version, which has no such stutter.

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Decima should be running much better on PC – as the PC port of Death Stranding demonstrates.

I thought that dropping to console-level 30fps might solve the issue but the problem is that the 30fps cap within the game actually runs at 29fps, producing even more stutter. Also, if you are experiencing profound performance problems, make sure you have your mainboard properly configured for 16x PCIe bandwidth for the GPU. This one’s on me but I didn’t – my slot was set to 8x bandwidth and it hobbled performance, while switching up to 16x solve that particular problem. Going back to Death Stranding, PCIe bandwidth made no difference at all.

Even with the game running in what I think are optimal conditions, performance is not where it should be. Death Stranding would deliver 1080p60 on a GTX 1060 or RX 580 system. Horizon Zero Dawn – based on an older iteration of the Decima Engine – does not, far from it. The lack of a day one driver from Nvidia is also curious. Horizon certainly seems to need it as GTX 1060 performance up against RX 580 – its perennial rival – is remarkably poor. Indeed, on optimised settings, the GTX 1060 can drop beneath 1080p30 with highly erratic frame-times, meaning that it’s performing worse than a PlayStation 4 with only a small visual uplift. The Steam hardware survey cites the GTX 1060 as the most popular gaming GPU around and yet it is clearly not performing as it should be, which means that a large proportion of the PC market could have issues. By extension, it comes as no surprise to see that the brilliant DLSS 2.0 support we saw in Death Stranding is not present in Horizon.

There are other issues that need to be addressed. Cutscenes run at arbitrary frame-rates but facial animation is locked to 30 frames per second – it doesn’t look right, with an almost Wallace and Gromit-like effect. Another problem in cutscenes is how they were not authored around the idea of interpolated frame-rates above 30fps, so in some cutscenes you can see characters warp around during scene cuts. Mismatches in animation refresh are evident elsewhere: Horizon’s tall ‘stealth grass’ runs at the correct frame-rate at all times, but the new dynamic plants and foliage added to the PC version are locked at 30 frames per second refresh instead. An unlocked frame-rate needs to mean just that – picking and choosing what can meet the limits of PC hardware and what remains locked to 30Hz shouldn’t be an option. What’s so baffling about this is that Guerrilla Games are perfectionists – I can’t help but feel that intrusive stutter and mismatched animation would never make their way into one of their PlayStation products so it’s disappointing to see that happen here.

Our feedback was submitted to the developer and we understand that addressing the stutter and fixing the broken texture filtering is a priority, while essential features like full frame-rate animation are being looked into. But to see such an amazingly polished console experience transition to PC with so many issues and with depressed performance is a problem. Death Stranding set the bar with a technically solid (if not especially scalable) port and to see Horizon Zero Dawn fall so far short by comparison is such a let down. We will be waiting to see if these issues are addressed over time, but right now, while the game itself is highly recommended, we can’t say the same for this PC conversion.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/08/horizon-zero-dawns-pc-port-is-deeply-disappointing-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=horizon-zero-dawns-pc-port-is-deeply-disappointing-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

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kenjiro-s · 5 years

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A different kind of final quest

Ch.6 Marble pools

Some people, when in obsession or mania or whatever, Tetsurou knew, tended to forget to take care of themselves. They didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t speak. Or shower. He shuddered, remembering some of the…individuals he’d had to deal with before meeting Keiji or Koutarou. Gross. But the current situation was something completely different.

Tetsurou didn’t bother knocking on the doorframe, leaning on it instead, the tray quiet in his hands. The workshop was a mess. There was so much paper on the floor that he wasn’t even sure where it went when Keiji didn’t need it. It was scary. Graphs, texts, blueprints and equations he knew stretched for metres were thrown on the floor, over chairs and were spilling from drawers. He poked a scroll on a side table by his left hand and the thing jumped at his hand, almost taking a finger off. He wasn’t even surprised, the manuscript didn’t like him and it hadn’t from the very beginning, back when Tetsurou had removed it from that dead pharaoh’s stomach. Mummies were not his favourite but this time the danger had been the artifact itself. Not that he cared. Or Keiji, for that matter. It was just another source of information.

Still, when it went for his elbow for the third time, he sighed and pulled out one of the huge black markers Keiji kept around the place. Pointing the wide tip towards the offending piece of literature, he waved it a little and if scrolls had faces, this one would be pouting. It settled for rolling in itself instead, and then tinkling on the floor, joining a pile of crystal rods. Ah, sound archives. So delicate, so difficult to work with. And so loud.

- Are you going to just stand there ? – The man in the middle of the pile of stuff didn’t even turn to look at him. Unlike all those other people, Keiji…he was a special case.

- Brought you food. – That got his attention. Straightening from his painful-looking slouch, Keiji ran a hand through his curls and stretched his arms above his head. Which made the soft t-shirt he was wearing ride up and show Tetsurou that he was in his usual “deep in work” attire – loose top and just a pair of tiny shorts as a bottom. He wholeheartedly approved of the man’s fashion choices. Oh, yes, he did. – What are you doing that got your temperature high that fast ? You haven’t been here that long.

- I can’t figure it out ! – He messed his hair again. Tetsurou balanced the tray on a pile of relatively calm hardcover books and stepped in the workshop. Carefully navigating around the things that might try to take a bite of his flesh, he reached Keiji, stopping right behind him. That was when things got tricky. Moving slowly, he placed both hands on Keiji’s hipbones and then ran them, just as slowly, up, until he wrapped them around his chest. And Keiji…was burning. Tetsurou knew that because he was always cold, the other man’s skin would feel warm, but this was something else. Tetsurou knew he wouldn’t be able to hold him much longer considering how he could feel his skin get uncomfortably scratchy, letting him know he’d been touching a flame for far too long. Releasing one arm, he slid it through Keiji’s hair and almost pulled back in reflex. Only years of doing the exact same thing stopped him from moving on instinct. Keiji’s scalp was burning, even worse than his chest. That was it.

- Come on, you need a bath. – And there went the resistance.

- I don’t have time for that, Tetsu. Whatever went wrong, I need to fix it and do it now ! We have no idea who did it or why, and they are obviously a danger to us. – He was getting more and more agitated, and Tetsurou couldn’t allow that.

- Look, I know, but I also know that you know that all those fine, fine gears, wires and mechanisms are extremely heat-sensitive. You’ll melt something, love, or worse – short-circuit it. I can’t allow that, not while I’m breathing.

The body in his arms stilled. He felt the sigh more than hearing it and Keiji turned to look at him. Changeable eyes met his, the colour reminding him of the moment ocean met sky before the storm hit, of endless horizons and heavy clouds, of the taste of rain and ozone on his tongue and the bite of chilling wind. The colour of the sky he’d grown to hate and the eyes he’d come to love more than life itself. Tetsurou smiled a little. Keiji was gorgeous and he knew it.

- Come on, poppet. You need rest. – Keiji pouted at the endearment. Tetsurou could only laugh and tug his hand.

- Tetsu… - It was cute but if the other man had stooped to whining, then the situation was worse than he thought. For now, all he could do was drag his partner in the master bathroom to wash away the sweat, and then get him to rest somewhere dark and quiet where he wouldn’t have to force his body to do anything.

Said bathroom was more like an extensive spa resort from what Tetsurou had seen from the several dimensions they’d explored in depth. Different pools, different temperatures, different surfaces. He could be happy with just a shower but his partners were spoiled, both in different ways and for different reasons, but they had mixed what felt like necessities and the end result was an opulent work of art in forest blue and midnight greens, with the occasional silver vein running through the marble. It was gorgeous and he’d been hesitant to even step in the first time he’d been invited in the master’s suite. Now, centuries later, it felt as familiar as the pendant around his neck, as the gently floating island in the middle of the street, as Koutarou’s eyes.

The marble was warm under his bare feet and tonight, it was only candles. True, the place did have actual lights, but they usually kept it as dark as Tetsurou could handle because of both his partners’ sensitive eyes. Also, atmosphere. He was old-fashioned after all. And plain old, but that was neither here nor there.

Keiji was still on his two feet though judging by how he was seriously lagging behind, he was too close to a burn out. Literally. He didn’t even open his pretty eyes when Tetsurou pulled his shirt off, or when he slid those tiny, tiny shorts down his endless legs. Pressing a kiss to the inside of one knee, he looked up from where he was kneeling on the floor.

Pale skin and smooth lines. A study of monochrome, with his eyes barely a touch of colour. Or, at least that’s how he was supposed to be. Tonight, even in the deep, almost tangible shadows, he could see the imperfections that marred the work of art that was Keiji’s body. Imperfections, caused by both his nature and what he’d done to it, and by having pushed himself to his limits. Red lines, some looking like light scratches, others – almost like brands, ran up and down his flesh. If he squinted a little, he could make out the separate artificial elements that rested right under the silky skin, and it worried him. For those to be visible… Sliding a hand up and down Keiji’s calf, he felt the heat and the uneven surface that was starting to burn, and any lewd thought he might have had disappeared.

Dropping a tiny sigh, he got up and led Keiji to one of the smallest pools. Smallest in their bathroom meant simply that one person could be a starfish, two people could be close and three people could be a pile that usually ended too soon because Keiji could use battle strategy to untangle himself from the two of them with military precision and in optimal time. He could be a genius like that.

- Come on, poppet, in you go. – And then he pushed him on the small of his back for good measure. Keiji exhaled with the kind of dramatic intention Tetsurou had only seen in the soap operas Koutarou loved, and then cocked a hip, glaring at him. Or, trying to glare. The effect was a little lost since he was completely naked, his eyes were closing from the unnatural exhaustion he’d gotten himself into, and he wasn’t really mad.

- Not your poppet, Tetsu. – The age-old argument. Good thing he knew how to counter it.

- Sure you are. You are small… - The five centimetre difference wasn’t even that noticeable but he loved to bring it up, just to see Keiji’s face. – and you are my sweetheart. Which makes you… - The other man turned and sunk to the ground to get in the pool. – poppet.

Keiji hissed from the water, though Tetsurou knew it was warm enough not to be room temperature but nothing more.

- I think I fried some nerve endings this time, Tetsu. – The first step to solving a problem… - I’ll have to look into it.

- Yep, tomorrow. I don’t see anything that looks too urgent. Or, I can ask Kou to run something quick when they come back ? For your peace of mind ? – Keiji just shook his head.

- It’s fine. I can tell the difference between a simple burn out and more serious issues. I just don’t like it.

Tetsurou bent down, still in all of his clothes, and pressed a kiss to Keiji’s right shoulder, where he knew there was nothing under the skin that hadn’t gotten there by the natural way. His partner’s body had been a maze and at the beginning, so long ago, he’d been afraid to even touch him of fear that he’d press on the wrong place and hurt him. With the development of the dimensions they travelled to, Keiji’s body changed, too, but here and now, he knew what he was doing.

- Beautiful. You, - He nosed at his midnight curls, breathing in the soft scent that seemed to be imbedded in his skin. – are so gorgeous you make my heart hurt. And I adore you more than my own soul.

- Not sure if that counts, Tetsu. Considering how you haven’t been anywhere near said soul for more than half a millennium… - The cheeky little…

- And just for that, I get to wash your hair.

- Wait, Tet… - He couldn’t finish, mostly because his head was completely under the water. Breaking the surface a second later, Keiji turned clumsily in the slippery pool and glared at him. It would’ve been scary if it wasn’t for the fact that because of his hair’s texture, it tended to go straight when really wet. He looked like, well, like Tetsurou out of a shower and it hadn’t gotten old even after all the centuries he’d been looking at it. Long black strands fell in uneven lengths in his eyes, shiny and wet, kind of resembling seaweed in the low light. Tetsurou couldn’t really help it, not that he tried, but still he was almost crying for laughing so hard. Ah, some things would be funny forever. Keiji’s betrayed expression from under the most scene fringe he’d ever seen…priceless.

- Done ? – He’d crossed his arms and he was actually tapping his foot. In the pool. Under water. Scary. – Because I was promised a procedure. And you owe me. So, - He waved a little, sprinkling water around. – move it.

- So bossy, poppet. Careful, you’ll end up ordering me to kiss your toes or something if you keep going like that.

- What’s the problem? I know you’ll do it in a second. – Tetsurou smirked.

- And then I will take it out on you the next day. – He leaned forward, lips touching Keiji’s ear. – Are you sure you want to risk it ? Will it be worth it ? – Turning a little, he met his partner’s eyes. He did look a little better, Tetsurou noted.

- No. – Breathed out on his lips. – But this will. – And then the neck of his shirt was pulled down in a way that left no room for fight, and then he was falling face-first, losing any sense of direction, and then…

Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his eyes and shook his head to get the hair away from his eyes. Which, of course, most definitely didn’t work if Kaiji’s raised eyebrows were a sign. The smug expression was not something he saw often but now the other man was every centimetre the “master of the house” and he knew it.

- Not fair, love.

- Well, dove. – Tetsurou almost hissed in response to the pet name. – I never said I’d play fair. You should’ve known.

The warm water felt better than Keiji would ever admit. Not only did it balance and even out the temperature of his overheated body, it also gave relief to his joints, both natural and artificial. It felt divine. Not that he’d say it out loud – Tetsurou was already smug enough.

Going under once more, he shook his head and slicked his hair back away from his eyes. Tetsurou was back to his signature smirk with a fringe though there was tenderness on his handsome features that he couldn’t hide completely.

- Come on, love. Let me take care of you. – Always the one with the endearments. And the things was, he didn’t even think about it, it was just how he showed affection. Keiji…wasn’t like that. If he wasn’t trying to tease, words like that stuck in his throat and refused to see the light of the day, forcing him to seal his lips. It had taken years upon decades, long, exhausting night and the three of them barely making it out alive, for him to be able to speak, to say it out loud. Things had progressed since then, but not much. And now…now it was no time for jokes.

He’d argue, but Tetsurou was in a Mood™ and he didn’t have it in him to disturb it. Breathing in, he let his eyes close and loosened his muscles as much as he could in his current condition. Which brought back to light all the pain, itches and burns that marred his body, and distracted him from the situation he was in, which included a dark room, hot bath and a naked Tetsurou. How unfair of his body.

Leaning back on the marble wall, Keiji kept his eyes closed as the hot humid air filled his lungs, barely registering the light splashes of Tetsurou moving in the water.

- Here… - The murmur was barely there, but also carefully away from him. Keiji opened his eyes and tried to focus. Tetsurou was looking at him, smirk non-existent, and was obviously waiting for something. After so many years together, both his partners knew how to handle his…quirks. Like not to touch him from behind unless certain procedure had been followed before that. Or, not to get too close to his front if his eyes were closed unless, again, preparations had been done. It was all an intricate dance that should have drained their relationship with its pragmatism and lack of spontaneousness, should have made it dry as a bone and twice as unpleasant. At least that’s what most people said. But there was something so inherently beautiful in the care they showed to each other, the care they showed to him when it came to his nature, that he couldn’t find it in himself to regret even a single bit of metal and magic that was embedded under his skin.

Obviously happy that he was being seen and observed, Tetsurou poured some shampoo in his palm and got closer, still carefully keeping himself in the middle of Keiji’s field of view. It was kind of sweet, really.

Dropping a sigh, Keiji activated the complicated spell that kept everything inside of him going. One by one, he could feel the mechanisms shutting down and leaving only muscle, bone and tendon behind. For a moment, the world was filled with clicks, pops and sizzles he knew almost nobody else could hear, and then it went quiet. He knew, now, that it could take up to several minutes for everything to turn off properly and that rushing things would end badly for him. But he rarely did this, usually, there was no need to go that far. Tonight…tonight he needed to cool down, but he also needed Tetsurou to be safe in doing whatever he wanted. It was a small compromise.

Closing his eyes again, Keiji allowed himself to feel, even if his senses had lost their sharpness and the world turned a little greyer, a little duller, and then…

Long fingers slid through his hair and he couldn’t help it – he flinched. Relying on extra senses always came with a price but this was something he simply had to get used to. Every time. But Tetsurou was gentle. No pressure, he was only petting. Gentle, he was always so gentle, messing up the strands to get the lather and then comb through them to get everywhere. If there was Heaven, he was already there. A rare indulgence, and one not only for Keiji, because Tetsurou had said multiple times that he had just as much fun as him doing that. And who was he to refuse ?

- Okay, duck.

- How romantic. – Keiji almost opened one eye to see if the signature smirk was there, but common sense won and he dropped a dramatic sigh before sinking under the surface. Tetsurou combed through his hair a little more, rinsing him, and Keiji stood back up, sliding a palm up his face. Blinking through the hair, he finally could focus on the other man’s face. And, what a face it was. Even if he was the most human between them, though the definition was loose at best, Tetsurou’s eyes almost glowed green in the low light, showing off his golden skin and high cheekbones. Pretty, so, so pretty. Keiji leaned back and gave his own smirk. Now that he was feeling better, with the mechanisms under his skin having cooled down to a more bearable level, he could feel a different mood rise.

- Oh, you want me to be romantic ? Wasn’t this what I was doing ? - A hand slid along his back as Tetsurou pulled him to his chest. Sharp teeth nipped on his shoulder. – Allow me to try again. Poppet.

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