#we truly are graveyards of the people we used to be & full of the spirits of those who knew us at one point huh : | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jorvach · 3 years

Photo

Been using the Take Notes - Journal of the Dragonborn mod for Skyrim to, well, take notes in an ingame journal for a kinda-sorta fanfic. Here’s what I have so far, plus some screenshots to set the mood.

---1. Some Life Experience--- Master Drogolf has sent me all the way to Riften to pick up some kind of magic crystal! He wouldn't tell me what it's for, but I'm sure it's important... though not important enough for him to go in person. When I asked about that, he said it'll be a chance for me to explore the real world a bit, rather than just sitting around in the tower in Helgen and reading about it.

I can't argue with that, so I'm off! First stop, Riverwood!

---2. City on a Hill--- Riverwood was a pleasant little village, and the people were friendly, but I didn't stay long, being excited about seeing the big city for the first time! Whiterun sits atop a great hill rising up from the plains, painting a breathtaking picture! The Jarl's palace, Dragonsreach is at the very top, looking down on the city. The stories say the dragon Numinex was held captive in that very building... How I wish he was still there, I've always wanted to speak to a dragon! Sadly, they're all extinct. And then there's Jorrvaskr, mead hall of the legendary companions warrior band. This city is truly steeped in history! But before learning all about it, I should head to the local inn and get a hot meal!

---3. Journey to the East--- During my stay in Whiterun, I did some odd jobs for some of the citizens, earning me enough coin to prepare for the journey through Eastmarch, which is supposed to be far more dangerous than the area between Helgen and Whiterun. That much is true, for on the border between Whiterun Hold and Eastmarch stands Valtheim Towers, home to a small gang of bandits. Or I should say, -was- home to bandits. As soon as my spells felled their leader, the rest of them fled into the hills, leaving the main road to the east a safer route... for now.

It's getting late, so I should find a place to rest. Perhaps that ruined tower set into the mountainside.

---4. Kaidan--- The tower turned out to be some kind of hideout for the Thalmor! Fortunately, it seems to have been almost abandoned, as there were only two of them inside. Good thing, as I'm not sure I would've fared well against a full garrison of Justiciars! They also had a prisoner, a man named Kaidan. I freed him and helped him get his equipment back from the Thalmor, including a large Akaviri sword inscribed with some strangely familiar runes. For aiding him, Kaidan has offered to become my bodyguard to repay the debt. I tried to tell him he didn't owe me anything, but he wouldn't hear of it, and so I've earned myself a travelling companion! I shall have to ask him about the runes, but for now, I really need some rest!

---5. Inigo--- We've arrived in Riften at last! While renting a room at the nearest inn, the innkeeper said that she'd been asked to watch out for someone matching my description, then handed me a strange note asking to meet in Riften Jail... Weird. I'll look into it later, for now, I should meet with the court wizard and collect Master Drogolf's crystal. --- Terrible news! Wylandriah, Riften's court wizard, tells me that Drogolf's crystal has been stolen! I'd rather not return from my first real adventure having failed, so I'll try to find some clues as to who stole it, and where I might find them. Following up on the mysterious note from the inn seems as good a place to start as any. --- I met with the one who left the note, A Khajiit named Inigo. He seems to think he tried to murder me, which is why he turned himself in to the guards and has been wallowing in guilt ever since. I tried to tell him he was mistaken, but he wouldn't hear of it, and begged me to kill him. I refused, of course, but still, I couldn't find it in me to just leave the poor fellow to his despair, so I offered to let him join us in our travels, to make up for what he thinks he did. Kaidan didn't like it, but something tells me Inigo can be trusted. Time will tell if I'm right.

Unfortunately, he didn't know anything about the crystal. Back to square one.

---6. Lucien--- A priestess of Mara, Dinya, said she saw a shifty-looking man handing over something that "looked like a soul gem, but green" to a figure in a black cloak! From what Dinya overheard of their conversation, the cloaked person might be going to Falkreath! It's not much to go on, and I don't even know for sure if it's the right crystal, but it's all I have. Luckily, a merchant is leaving for Falkreath very soon, so we could hire on as guards and get to Falkreath quickly! --- We asked around at Falkreath's inn, but apparently, strangers clad in black are common here. No surprise, considering the famous graveyards in these parts. After a fruitless, day-long search, we took a room at the inn. The next morning, as we were having breakfast, we were approached by a pretty fancy-looking young man in even fancier clothes, who asked us if we could take him to Helgen. He wants to meet with my master, apparently. After finding out about my apprenticeship, he became very enthusiastic, and offered a large sum of gold to escort him there. Having no further clues, I suppose I'll have to return home empty-handed... hope the crystal wasn't too important.

---7. Black Wings--- Something horrible has happened! As we approached Helgen, we saw great plumes of smoke rising from the town, and then heard a terrible roar! And then, taking wing from within the walls, a massive beast with wings black as night! A Dragon! Helgen is ruined, burned to ash and razed by the might of the dragon. We couldn't find anyone left alive, and Master Drogolf's tower, the only home I've ever known, is nothing but rubble. We didn't even have time for a proper search, as the dragon flew off toward Riverwood. Inigo insists we must follow, to warn the townspeople of the danger, provided they haven't already been slaughtered too. As much as I would like to stay and mourn for my home, I knew he was right. --- We've each been dealing with the events at Helgen in our own way. Lucien has been borderline panicked ever since, and talks incessantly about anything and nothing to keep calm. Kaidan is even more silent and brooding than usual, and is constantly grasping his bow, watching the skies for any sign of the dragon. Inigo, bless him, has been trying to keep our spirits up with jokes and encouragement, but I can tell he's shaken up bad. And as for me, I alternate between grim determination and feeling like I'm a daze, like I'm only having a terrible nightmare.

---8. A favor for a Jarl--- Riverwood was, fortunately, not burned down. We continued on to Whiterun to warn the Jarl of the danger. Jarl Balgruuf seems a sensible man. When he heard our news about Helgen, he quickly commanded his Housecarl to send men to protect the other settlements in his hold. He also introduced us to his court wizard, a somewhat abrasive man named Farengar, who has been studying the history of dragons. He's asked us to delve into a ruin in the mountains above Riverwood, named Bleak Falls Barrow, in search of something called a Dragonstone, supposedly a map of ancient dragon burial sites. --- As people say, Bleak Falls Barrow is full of Draugr, undead monstrosities who patrol the halls and strike down intruders. Their eyes glowing in the dark chill my spine. What with that, and the destruction of Helgen, it'll be a miracle if I ever get a peaceful night's rest again! Unexpectedly, Inigo is also terrified of these undead, despite being an adventurer of great experience. Perhaps I'll ask him about it sometime. For now, we will continue into the dephts of the Barrow, to find the Dragonstone.

---9. The Word Wall--- We've found the Dragonstone! In a sealed tomb deep in the barrow, it rested in a sarcophagus with a powerful Draugr, perhaps their leader or something - if Draugr have any kind of hierarchy... Something weird happened when we approached the back of the tomb however. There's a wall with a bunch of ancient writing - a Word Wall, Kaidan called it. When I got closer, I heard strange chanting and saw some of writing glowing? And then it was as if the world went dark, save for that noise and light. When I came to, the Draugr had risen from it's sarcophagus and was fighting my friends! Fortunately, they slew it just as my eyes cleared, and they seem no worse for wear. I'm very confused about what happened to me, and the others are clearly concerned about it as well. Still, I feel fine for now, and we need to return the Dragonstone to Farengar. If I'm lucky, maybe he'll know something about the Word Wall too.

---10. Success Story--- We got the Dragonstone back to Whiterun, and were well rewarded. Farengar even promised to look into the incident at the Word Wall! I suppose I'll return to Dragonsreach and ask him about it later. For now though, Inigo's suggested we celebrate our success with a hot meal and a bottle of mead or two, so it's off to the Bannered Mare for that - and a good room for the night afterward! It feels like ages since I've slept in a warm bed! ---

#skyrim #tes5 #tesv #tes #the elder scrolls #fanfiction #fanfic #journal #kaidan 2 #skyrim kaidan #inigo the brave #inigo #skyrim inigo #lucien flavius #alindra #alduin #screenshots

53 notes · View notes

sk1fanfiction · 3 years

Text

the many faces of tom riddle, part 5

- more myth than man... or not? the mortality of tom riddle and the anatomy of a villain-

That leaves us with Ralph Fiennes’ portrayal of adult Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort in movies 4-8.

I generally find adult Tom Riddle disappointing, even in the books, in terms of character depth. Instead of delving into his motivations and the inner psychology of a villain, we get... slight body horror? And in the movies, it’s even more egregious.

If a story is as good as its villain, adult Tom Riddle is a bit of a let-down, especially on-screen.

“I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost . . . but still, I was alive.”

Perhaps the very first time I watched it, I found this scary, but I must confess that nowadays, Voldemort’s resurrection is more funny to me than anything else. The forked tongue and the nose slits, yes, are supposed to allude to Tom Riddle’s loss of humanity, but I don’t think it...worked out that way in practice.

I know that’s how it is in the books, but ugly equals evil (and vice versa) is a tired trope. not only that, but under the CGI, Lord Voldemort is so difficult to relate to, so inhuman, that it’s hard to (1) see his true depravity (2) connect with him emotionally (3) at least for me, not laugh at him flapping around the graveyard in GOF like an oversized crow.

Now, the reason I’m going on about this is not (just) me being petty. Lord Voldemort is the Boggart for most of the characters in the HP universe, meaning their greatest fear is Lord Voldemort. He represents Fear; as such, he should be utterly terrifying. Now, I don’t mean horrifying in that sense, but Voldemort’s grand entrance should at least feel somewhat unsettling, have some sort of a Gothic atmosphere...

"But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron."

Visually, this looks great. But it’s not scary. And I’m not a purist by any means, but the words are scarier than the book. Darkness induces fear.

“The lack of any kind of visual stimuli increases anxiety, uncertainty, and tension.”

So, having Voldemort’s pale body materialize isn’t as scary as it could be.

Furthermore, I think Fiennes’ overexaggerated expressions would actually come across as properly horrifying/threatening rather than funny if they just left his face alone. Yes, Fiennes does manage to emote the fear and the anger through the CGI, but it’s like he’s too alien to be scary, at least to me. The amount of memes with Voldemort suggest I’m not the only one this way inclined.

I think there’s probably a problem going on with the uncanny valley. (Images from the Mori essay linked).

[When things are still]

[Creepy things are creepier when moving]

Now, I assume Voldemort is meant to be zombie-creepy, or at least that how Harry describes him in the books.

"The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry...and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's but with slits for nostrils...."

Now, we can’t get Harry’s experience of being haunted by Voldemort in his dreams, because what I think makes Voldemort’s countenance so truly frightening to the other characters isn’t his snake-like nose or his red eyes, but the potential. Voldemort is, in essence, the Grim Reaper. You are at his mercy, and you’re probably going to be dead.

“This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.“

And yes, Voldemort can be quite funny and witty, but..

“I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers will give their right hands to perform.” (To Peter Pettigrew)

...it’s still incredibly dark, sadistic humour. Whereas the teenage Tom Riddle we’ve been discussing has just barely dipped his toes into evil, Voldemort is, well... swimming in it. At this point, he think he undeniably enjoys causing pain.

And much of what makes Voldemort scary is subtle.

For example, what I personally consider haunting is the fact that he’s got a cave full of Inferi. A cave full of reanimated dead bodies.

Either he dug them up, which is unlikely... or perhaps, a twenty-seven-or-so-year-old Tom Riddle would lie in wait like a bird of prey, very quietly and patiently, perhaps reading a book, waiting for an unsuspecting Muggle to wander past. Maybe killing is a game to him at this point, when it’s not so personal as killing Harry Potter. Maybe it’s a whispered Avada Kedavra, and then he carries the dead body away to his cave. Maybe he Imperiuses them to walk off the cliff. Maybe he tortures them first.

Shudder.

And I don’t think you can show that kind of horror through any CGI or make-up, so...

You know what is terrifying? Revolting? True crime; real-life people who do unspeakably horrible things. And I think a lot was missed out on, in stripping Tom Riddle physically of his humanity. Yes, Riddle is a monster...

But, as we’ve seen, he’s a human monster, not some eldritch horror from the seventh level of hell or something.

I just think it would be interesting to have this perfectly normal-looking human do all the horrific things Voldemort does. I want to see that sick joy in a human face and feel disgusted. I want to see fear make his bottom lip tremble, and feel a misplaced sense of empathy. (Think President Snow from the Hunger Games -- now, that’s a sick, twisted villain who we can relate to as a human being, but still love to hate -- or what about The Joker?).

And out of everything they chose to CGI, why on earth did they not make his eyes scarlet? That might have made him look at least somewhat menacing, rather than a failed lab experiment.

(Don’t even get me started on his and Bellatrix’s death scenes in the movies-)

Here’s President Snow. He’s got a cute little granddaughter, he sends kiddies to kill each other Battle Royale-style every year, and he poisons all his political opponents. He’s also a master manipulator and has a penchant for white roses. They cover up the smell of the sores in his mouth from eating the poison too, to conceal his treachery.

Heath Ledger as the Joker in Dark Knight (2008), who is, according to NYT (which I totally agree with), the best Joker. Now this is a villain done right, with many Voldemort-like traits. On a scale of one-to-ten, he’s absolutely terrifying. Why? He’s (unlike Voldemort in the movies) incredibly intelligent, shows young-Tom-Riddle-like skills for charm and manipulation, plays with humans like they’re his own personal psychology experiment (and to hell with the Institutional Review Board), and has one, single, very clear goal -- chaos. Like Voldemort, he wears an inhuman mask that’s not horrifying in its own right; but unlike Voldemort, the human is all there -- terrifying, real, and with a bottomless, obsessive desire to destroy. His disordered thinking is all out there for the audience to see. The Joker’s motivation is to enjoy himself; whereas Voldemort seems to lack drive. Why does he want to take over the world -- who knows, with Voldemort? The Joker wants to see it burn.

Let’s try to do the same with Lord Voldemort:

[SLIGHT FLASH WARNING]

I had to go with this because Voldemort isn’t legitimately terrifying in many scenes. And yes, this unrefined anger somewhat speaks to Tom’s immaturity

By this point, seventy-one year old Tom Riddle is a hollowed-out shell of a human being. After decades of building his power, he was defeated by a one-year-old, and ended up slumming it as a spirit for a decade, got defeated again, was a shrivelled-up baby for a year, then finally got his body back.

He’s angry, okay! And Fiennes does a great job of portraying the sheer, destructive, unbridled rage of this character.

The body language. again, since his face is inhuman, this is super important. and Fiennes’ body language is great. Voldemort/Riddle commits to his actions. He is very emotionally-driven.

But yet, he doesn’t feel capable, in the way that the Joker or President Snow do. Yeah, we know anecdotally that he’s incredibly evil, sadistic, and second only to Dumbledore in terms of power, but he loses to a baby, and then that same baby as a teenager. So, we really could have done with seeing Voldemort’s power, cruelty, and evil firsthand a lot more often.

Voldemort is not well-characterized. I don’t understand his motives, and the ones that I do understand are not compelling.

Not to die? Well, he’s already made several Horcruxes. Why not sit back and relax? Why start a war and risk himself?

JKR said that Voldemort’s great desire was to become all-powerful and eternal. But that’s... boring! It does little to tell us about Voldemort, other than that he’s a villain and a wannabe dictator.

Furthermore, the charm, manipulation, and cunning that are hallmarks of younger Tom Riddle’s personality are gone.

Is Voldemort (to return to Jungian terms) all shadow? An empty creature of simple creation and destruction, perhaps? We’ll discuss this further down...

And this isn’t a problem of having a fantastical world with magic and the like. Grindelwald’s quiet, self-possessed, almost coy “So you think you can hold me?” was infinitely scarier than anything that has ever come out of Voldemort’s mouth. It was chilling.

OOTP is my favorite book, and the Ministry sequence is one of my favourite in the films.

This scene where he psyches out Harry, talking so quietly that he could just be a little voice inside his head (and again, during the possession scene)? Absolute perfection.

Why? Because this showcases what’s truly scary about him. Voldemort can get into your head. He can make you do things. And perhaps, if we had seen that more often, we’d understand how scary he is.

I wish this had been his grand entrance, and not whatever that scene in GOF was. Somehow, him screeching “I WANT TO SEE THE LIGHT LEAVE YOUR EYES!” is not menacing. At all.

But, I can’t help but think how much greater the emotional affect would be if he had more human features (think the burned-and-blurred, waxy features from Dumbledore’s memory).

Just imagine these scenes if Voldemort looked human, and spoke as quietly as he did in this one.

Because of the reason that I have little to go on in terms of characterization that I haven’t already covered, we’ll discuss the myth and legend of Lord Voldemort.

I can’t decide if the statue in the films is supposed to be the Angel of Death or the Grim Reaper. He has a skeleton and carries a scythe, but he also has wings. There are so many different interpretations, attitudes towards, and personifications of Death across the world that I don’t want to draw any one conclusion. But I must wonder if Lord Voldemort, with his yew-and-phoenix wand (which carries heavy symbolism of immortality and rebirth) and almost deified figure is meant to be a personification of Death himself? His name, Lord Voldemort, is a shade close to Lord Death.

For years, it has stumped me that wizards and witches are afraid to utter Voldemort’s name, especially since we only see the Taboo in the middle of the last book. It didn’t make sense just based on fear; in the real world, we don’t circumvent Hitler’s name, for example.

Perhaps this may have been obvious to others, but it wasn’t to me.

Here’s a counterargument to myself; why Voldemort shouldn’t look human.

Voldemort, in the Wizarding World, is seen as a literal deity.

I promised to attempt to answer this question in Part 3:

And so, I can’t help but wonder if the opposite is true… if Tom Riddle creates Horcruxes, would that grant him additional magic powers?

In Part 3, I likened Tom Riddle to a sorcerer in Russian folklore, Koschei the Deathless, also famous for sequestering his soul in objects. This source suggests that Koschei was considered not an ordinary magician, but a representative of the ‘other’ world, the world of death.

So, what if... creating Horcruxes makes you... more than human? Now, I could definitely see god-like status being appealing to sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle. Perhaps, even appealing enough to kill for. Now, his proclivity for Avada Kedavra makes sense. We know it’s an incredibly sinister spell, but at the same time, it’s a very humane way to kill. Why might it be so horrifying?

Here’s a weird theory.

To the best of my knowledge, no one but Voldemort is seen using the Killing Curse more than once or twice.

Perhaps, ordinary mortals can only cast Avada Kedavra a few times, but Tom, having split his soul and having become in some way a non-human instrument of Death, can cast it however many times as he likes, and that is part of what serves to make him so terrifying.

This makes the idea of Voldemort tossing around Avada Kedavras actually incredibly terrifying, if you take into account what that might mean.

The collective cultural fear of speaking Voldemort’s name supports this theory.

Take the chthonic (underworld) deities of Greek mythology; most notably, Hades and Persephone, the king and queen of the underworld.

Hades, the god of the dead, was feared.

So feared that the word ‘Hades’ (”the unseen one”) was so frightening, that people came up with all sorts of euphemisms to circumvent actually saying it and he was rarely even depicted in art. For example, they would refer to him as Pluto (”the rich one”), Clymenus ("notorious"), Polydegmon ("who receives many"), and perhaps Eubuleus ("good counsel" or "well-intentioned"), amongst many other names.

However, he was not seen as evil; just stern, cruel, and fair. Like most Greek gods, he had an associated cult (the Death Eaters, anyone?)

Another interesting connection between Hades and Voldemort is that Hades was associated with snakes.

Persephone (suggested to have a pre-Greek origin and probably pre-dates Hades), who was also a vegetation/fertility/spring goddess, similarly, was referred to as Despoina (”the mistress”), Kore (”the maiden”), etc, because as the terrible Queen of the Dead, it was considered unsafe to speak her name aloud. In mythology and literature, she is sometimes referred to as ‘dread Persephone.’

--Just like how Lord Voldemort is referred to as The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who... (and if you’re Dumbledore, ‘Tom’.)

Her central myth served as the context for the secret rites of regeneration at Eleusis (which was basically a mystery cult devoted to her and her mother, Demeter), which promised immortality to initiates.

We don’t know for certain what exactly went on, because, mystery cult -- the members were sworn to secrecy -- but it revolved around immortality and rebirth and possibly psychoactive drugs.

Perhaps ironically, in comparison to the Death Eaters, anyone could join, as long as they could speak Greek and had never committed murder.

And that concludes my assessment!

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #lord voldemort #character study #tw: murder #the body horror was 1/10 #don't make your character design hilarious if you want him to be scary #i'm not saying voldemort is a vegetation deity #but i'm not-not saying it either

52 notes · View notes

blacknailpolishonguitarstrings · 3 years

Text

From Above

Magic was a very interesting thing. Powerful but fickle. Healing and caring in the right hands, yet wicked and deadly in the wrong ones. Dangerous. Magic was convenient, but used to its full potential only by a select few, and more often than not, by the ones in the wrong rather than by the deserving ones. As such, magic held many secrets that had yet to be discovered. Amongst those many unexplored areas, ghosts and death were some of the most obscure branches of magic. Wizards and witches knew next to nothing about the Afterlife. Ghosts were the imprints of departed souls, and could of course stay in the world of the living if they wished to do so, but they were forever attached to one place. What no one knew, or at least, remembered, was that if one poured enough emotion into the remembrance of a certain deceased person, their soul would be able to perceive what was happening in the world of the living at that precise moment. The souls of the dead had constant access to their past, of course, they were capable of thoughts and feelings, and they could see what was happening to everything and everyone in the world of the living, but as time passed, that connection grew feebler and feebler. The Dead distanced themselves from the Living more and more the longer they were gone, drifting further away from that thin barrier of Reality, and only a strong emotional connection could bring them back. That is how James and Lily Potter found their old friend Remus Lupin at their grave.

“James,” said Lily softly, resting a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

The logistics behind their ability to touch and feel each other were still unbeknownst and confusing to her, yet they were both ever so glad for it. Being dead…well it wasn’t fun. You merely existed. A lone, wandering soul. Yes, one was able to see the world and witness just about anything they wished, but that connection was unstable and weak at best. Both Lily and James felt themselves slipping away a tiny bit more with each day that passed, and it was an underlying knowledge, a cold hard truth, that someday they would simply cease to exist and fade into nothingness. But for now, they held on, with every bit of strength left in them to the real world. They had the urgent need to stay “alive” as best as they could, given their condition, for Harry, the son they would never see grow up, for Remus, their best friend, who was all alone now, and for Sirius, the one person who was slowly but surely getting dreadfully closer to James and Lily with every minute he spent in that cell, isolated, lost, in pain.

“What is it, love?” Asked James, looking up from the concert taking place in a small pub in London he was watching.

“Look, over there,” replied Lily, pointing into the far distance.

The world stretched beneath them like a small map they could observe closer whenever they felt like it, skipping from place to place in a matter of seconds. In the direction Lily was pointing towards, a grey, cold, graveyard stood in the middle of a town, namely, Godric’s Hollow. And among the marble tombstones, a lone figure kneeled in front of two joint headstones which shone bright and white in the evening, brand new, adorned with wreaths of white lilies.

Remus Lupin. In front of their graves. Behind her, James gasped.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He whispered, already knowing the answer.

“I think so…James, do you feel it? The connection?”

“Yeah, I think I do, it’s almost as if he were…pulling us in.”

Suddenly, they found themselves right above the graveyard, with a direct on-look on it.

“I…I feel close to him, I think his magic is calling us towards him or something. Merlin, this is so strange, how does this even work?” Said Lily, puzzled and slightly frustrated.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much more than you. It must be some form of ancient magic, or maybe Death magic, who knows…in any case nothing we were taught at Hogwarts,” answered James thoughtfully.

His wife nodded in agreement, remaining quiet as she watched her best friend below her. Remus’ shoulders were sagging under an invisible pressure, it appeared as if he would sink into the ground on which he was kneeling at any given second. His hands were hidden in the depth of his old, brown, worn-out coat’s pockets.

“They’re probably balled into fists,” thought Lily knowingly.

Oddly enough he wasn’t crying, and he did not look particularly afflicted. On the contrary, he seemed…numb. He was just there. With no purpose, no emotions, no hysterics, no cries, nothing, he was just there.

“I wish we could talk to him, or at least know what’s going on in his mind,” said James abruptly, interrupting her train of thought.

At that precise moment, Remus pulled out his wand and waved it briefly over the headstones. The fresh flowers on the two graves disappeared in small puffs of sparkles, telltale signs of magic, which hung around fleetingly in the air before vanishing as well. He waved his wand again, and several dark green sprouts spurted from its tip, softly dropping to the ground, small roots snaking into the mushy earth. The plants began to grow in size, intertwining until they formed a complex woven arch of spikes and leaves stretching across the two graves. Here and there, pearlescent white flowers bloomed. White roses.

“He remembers,” murmured Lily, tears welling up in her non-existent eyes, pricking her skin, sliding down her cheeks.

“Oh, love, of course, he does. Besides, those lilies were truly atrocious,” James laughed, but through the rumble of his chuckles, Lily could hear the affliction and the sorrow, thick and overwhelming.

She sighed, hugging him.

“If only we could communicate somehow,” she repeated her husband’s words.

There was another curious thing about magic: it had the uncanny knack to listen to one’s feelings, and sometimes, it was lenient and amalgamated. That is how Lily and James found themselves right next to Remus, still invisible, still unperceived, but there nonetheless, with him, instead of above him. They were both too troubled to think about the trick behind it, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if they were real again. If Lily hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn she felt the chilly autumn wind whisper through her formerly auburn hair, she would have sworn she felt the gravel crunch and roll under her feet, she would have sworn she felt her tears slide down her cheeks and freeze on her clammy skin right before they tipped past her chin, and she would have sworn she felt the texture of Remus’ wool coat under her hand as she placed it longingly on his shoulder, heat radiating from him under her palm. But she knew it was nothing more than a mere wish, sometimes she even wondered if she ever truly felt James’ touch, or if it was yet another fragment of her imagination, a shard of her shattered past. Neither of them was sure anymore, if they still resembled their former selves and had a partly physical form or if they were simple spirits, shadows of people, slivers of energy.

Lily and James stood there for long minutes beside their friend, quiet, not daring to move, just watching him, being there with him. Lily would have given anything to know what was going on in his mind, but he remained silent. Finally, as the last few pale rays of sunlight tinted the grey sky a light golden before being swallowed by the night’s shadows, a hoarse whisper escaped his lips:

“I miss you…I…I’m so alone now and I don’t know what to do.”

His head hung low, dull chestnut curls hiding his face, but Lily could tell he was crying by the slight shake of his shoulders. Her heart tightened, clenched by pain, that is if it still existed somewhere.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he continued with more vehemence. “I don’t want to live like this anymore!”

Remus had almost shouted the last few words and looked as if he were about to say something else when the sudden crack of Apparition cut him off. Albus Dumbledore appeared between the gravestones, dressed in dark blue robes, looking tired, eyes wary.

“Remus, I assumed I would find you here. I am very sorry but I must interrupt your mourning, there is an urgent matter I must discuss with you. Will you—“

“Professor,” interrupted Remus, finally looking up.

His eyes were puffy and red, and ill-defined traces of tears lined his hollow, bony cheeks. Lily couldn’t help worriedly noticing how much thinner he had gotten, bones pocking out from beneath his coat.

“Do you believe Black killed James and Lily and Peter?”

Next to her, James flinched at the question; Remus hadn’t called Sirius by his last name in years.

“I…I am afraid all the evidence point to that, nothing is indicating otherwise,” answered Dumbledore quietly but resolutely.

“NO!” Vociferated James. “SIRIUS DID NOT KILL US, PETER, THAT TREACHEROUS RAT DID! SIRIUS WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING LIKE THIS! HE IS MY BROTHER! HE ISN’T CAPABLE OF MURDERING ANOTHER HUMAN BEING!”

“James! James! They can’t hear you, my love, as unjust as this is there is nothing we can do!” Said Lily sadly, attempting to calm her husband down, yet her voice shook with contained fury.

Remus said nothing for a while, looking pensively into the distance, watching as the sun finally set, but something in his gaze had hardened.

“So he killed them,” he declared at last. “Black killed his best friends, those who gave him everything, and he abandoned me and betrayed me too…”

“No! Remus! Listen, it’s false! It’s not what it looks like! Dammit, Remus, listen to me!” Begged James desperately, trying to grasp his friend’s shoulders, but his hand went right through him, slicing through the air.

“He killed them,” repeated Remus bitterly. “I guess the Black in him won, after all, joined Voldemort, didn’t he?”

“I suppose so, yes,” nodded Dumbledore.

The words hit Lily like a punch in the gut as James sunk with a defeated and miserable sigh next to her.

“Old fool,” he mumbled.

#marauders fanfiction #James and lily are dead #jily #albus dumbledore #remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction

8 notes · View notes

wickedmilo · 3 years

Photo

THE SHARPEST LIVES | MILO & METZLI

PLACE: Jericho Hill Cemetery TIMING: 3:49 AM SUMMARY: Milo and Metzli are reminded of the fact that you can never let your guard down in White Crest WRITING PARTNER: @deathisanartmetzli CONTENT WARNINGS: Alcohol tw, head trauma tw, brief eating disorder mention

Metzli didn’t know how it happened, but they were completely and unequivocally drunk. Milo had met up with them for drinks, one turned into two, and two turned into six, and then six turned into, well, they honestly didn’t know. It was all a blur, and now the cold air was hitting their face as the two vampires giggled and stumbled about the streets. The idiots had a drink in each hand and couldn’t stop laughing at nothing.

“Milo! Milo!” Metzli slurred, pointing and using his shoulder as a crutch for their staggering legs. “What if we went into that cemetery?!” They wheezed and fell over onto the ground, laughing uncontrollably. “Can you imagine?” They joked and managed to keep their drinks from spilling. Gulping one down, they threw the cup to the side, not caring if they littered.

Milo was struggling to walk in a straight line, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t more than familiar with the sensation of tripping over his feet. He couldn’t remember leaving the club, he could barely even remember meeting Metzli for drinks, but the unnaturally cold air of White Crest was undeniably refreshing. The strange winter was lasting far longer than he anticipated, and he knew he should find it unnerving at the very least. But his worry was spent, and he would much rather focus on the way the chill felt against his skin, the way his lips burned, and his fingertips ached with the exposure. It was a reminder of the fact that he was alive. He was still here despite everything, and there was joy to be found in that. As if to prove his point, his company spoke, choking on their words as they laughed at their own suggestion. It took him a few seconds to truly register the irony, why two vampires getting drunk in a graveyard was even remotely amusing, but the moment he laid eyes on the signpost it hit him, and he failed to hold back his own laughter.

Jericho Hill. He had never been the type to care about disrespecting the dead, but now more than ever he felt as though he had a right to claim the space as his own. He was dead too, wasn’t he? Everybody buried in the ground had died in some way. Well, so had he. The only difference being he had to face the trauma of his death on a near daily basis. His step faltering as Metzli continued to grip at his shoulder, he finished what was left of his own drink before throwing his cup down to meet theirs. “Wait-” He grinned at them as they almost dragged him to the floor. “Wait, Metzli-” He caught his breath, reaching out to clumsily pull them back to their feet. “We have to do it, right?” He asked, eyes shining with inebriated excitement. “I mean, duh- we have to do it.”

“Yes, we have to do it! And we have to play this!” Metzli pulled out their phone to peruse through their songs until they found the perfect song. Since they were drunk as all get out, what should’ve taken mere seconds took two whole minutes of scrolling up and down. “I found it!” Dead! by My Chemical Romance began to play loudly from the speakers of their phone and they gulped on their last beverage, spilling most of it on themselves. Sober Metzli would care about the stains and overall smell of alcohol on their clothes, but Drunk Metzli could care less. They deserved to let loose. They deserved to forget everything and not have to deal with pesky people, or pesky emotions.

With this freedom from problems, they blundered forward, towards the funniest place they could find at this time of night. There was nothing inherently funny about this idea, only the two vampires understood. “…and if you get to heaven…!” Metzli belted out the lyrics to the song as they pulled Milo with them. Ghosts could be seen all about the cemetery, some groaning in annoyance, others ignoring them completely. “Fuck you!” They yelled, laughing and moving on quickly to balance on a tombstone. “Shit, look at me. I’m not even drunk at all!” Which was wrong, and they promptly fell backwards onto their back.

Milo waited patiently for Metzli to find the song they were looking for, his expression moving from one of polite interest to instantaneous recognition. My Chemical Romance had more than a few songs he enjoyed, but he hadn’t listened to ‘Dead’ in what felt like forever. The sound was tinny, and nowhere near as loud as he would have liked, but it didn’t make it any less enjoyable. Laughing as his friend spilled their final drink on their shirt, he couldn’t bring himself to tell them. Maybe they already knew. Instead he fished in the pocket of his hoodie for a can he had been saving, cracking it open, the scent of beer washing over him. It didn’t take them very long to reach the graveyard, following the sign posts, veering further and further from the lights of the town, and taking a long drink, he watched as Metzli hurried ahead of him, reaching the gates before he could ever hope to without falling. “Wait for me!” He called, walking a little faster despite knowing it would increase his chances of finding himself on the floor. “What?” He shot his friend a confused look as he approached the clearing, only realising they weren’t telling him to fuck off when he saw the handful of ghosts wandering the perimeter. Huh, maybe respecting the dead was going to take on a whole new, and far too literal meaning.

Catching himself as the gate swung shut behind him with more force than he was expecting, he made eye contact with a few of the cemetery’s residents before turning his attention back to Metzli. “Definitely not true.” He countered, searching the graves for a perch of his own. Settling on a large tomb towards the centre he hurried to scramble on top of it, raising his can the moment he was standing steady. “Hey, we died too, okay?” He shouted, his voice reverberating through the trees. “And it was really fucking shit, so cut us some slack. We deserve to have some fun!” A few ghosts seemed to appreciate him addressing them, melting easily into the shadows to give him some space. Others continued to glare, or stare at him with a disapproving look he usually only saw worn by his parents. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was distracted by the sound of Metzli slipping from where they were balanced. A grin still on his face, he could hear them moving, blocked from view by their chosen grave. “You okay?” He teased. “You should be more careful, y’know. What if you got hurt?”

The gate shut with a loud and metallic clonk! when Milo finally made his way into the cemetery. Metzli was impatient, and motivated by the chaotic music emanating from their back pocket. “You’re too slow! Use those vampire legs!” They beckoned, voice full of teasing and friendliness. Milo ended up being a lot of fun to be around, so much so that they knew this wouldn’t be the last time they hung out. While they could have deep conversations, Milo knew when enough was enough. He knew how to have real fun, real fun that distracts and pushes away the tidal wave of troubles that only seemed to keep accumulating.

Teasing right back, Metzli flipped the bird at Milo and said, “It’ll take a lot more than a little fall to take me out. You wanna try and see what’ll work?” They teased, throwing a clump of grass at Milo’s face. A tinge of hope that he might even try filled their chest, but it quickly faltered, knowing damn well he wouldn’t. Channeling their energy into something else, they regarded the frustrated spirits, “Listen. We’re here one night. You’ll get it back! Just let us have fun. We’re just as miserable as you; we need the break!” Most of the words were a little hard to understand due to the slurring, but they didn’t care. “And you, get down, mister! You’re gonna hurt yourself, young man!” They crawled towards the stone and just toppled over laughing.

“I’d still be clumsy,” Milo pointed out. “Just faster, which definitely means falling over. This is like some ultimate vampire reflexes versus alcohol bullshit.” Grinning easily to himself as he struggled to balance on top of the tomb despite both feet being planted firmly on the solid granite, he couldn’t help but figure the alcohol was winning out. “No, I don’t want to try-” He added, absentmindedly glancing back over to where Metzli was sprawled. He could see them busy with something, and it didn’t take him long to find out what. He sidestepped, only just managing to dodge the grass and mud that came flying towards him. Holding up his middle finger in response, he took a long drink from his can. The sooner he was done holding it, the sooner he could spark up a cigarette, and his body was calling out for nicotine. When he was finally finished, he searched the darkness again for his friend. He had a suspicion they were serious about him trying to kill them, and it was an unnerving reminder of the fact that they had given up their soul. Even though he had no desire to let that part of himself go, he couldn’t help being curious about how it felt. How much of a person did it change?

His eyes shining as he was pulled out of his thoughts by Metzli’s voice, he listened to them address the lingering ghosts. Some of them still glared disapprovingly, but no doubt it was becoming clear they wouldn’t be able to drive away two vampires with stares alone. “Isn’t misery supposed to love company?” He asked, laughing at his own joke. Maybe it was unfair to laugh about the dead being unhappy with their situation. But he was unhappy with his own situation, and he was here to have a good time. If anything, the ghosts could learn a thing or two about having fun. Nobody was forcing them to avoid the party. “No, ‘m fine!” He said, petulantly kicking a small stone towards Metzli. “You’re not the boss of me, and I like it up here.” Glancing down at the stone beneath him, he regretted not trying to read the inscription on the side of it. “I wonder who this guy is. I mean- whoever it is makes for a kick ass viewing platform.” Laughing as he shuffled to the edge, looking down to where Metzli was crawling closer and closer, he waited until the most opportune moment to tip his can and spill beer directly over them. “Shit, I’m sorry- I didn’t see you.” His tone, and expression made it incredibly clear just how untrue that statement was.

The world continued to spin and blur, like a nonstop roller coaster. Only, Metzli wouldn’t regurgitate any of the contents in their stomach, they’d simply keep up their antics with optimal visual and physical contingencies. “Yeah! Let miserable assholes keep you company!” Sobriety was nowhere in sight as their slurred words traveled through the cemetery. Laying on the ground was nice. It provided safety from faking and a cool was to their back. That safety was interrupted though, when Milo spilled beer all over them. “Hey! Asshole!” But they didn’t bother getting up. Just laying there, they flipped Milo off and rolled their eyes.

“You’re annoying. I never should’ve saved your ass. Wouldn’t have to deal with this shit!” The music in the background went from Dead! to This is How I Disappear. While Metzli could always enjoy classical music, there was always a place for punk rock in their heart. Their cold, dead heart. The heart that could never give love or care. Nor could it receive it. At least not by being worthy of it.

A shuddered breath could not be suppressed, and was made obvious by the visible air. Metzli frowned petulantly at their display of internal frustration. Now wasn’t the time for soul nonsense. Now was the time for, “Holy shit, more alcohol!” They said, pulled a flask from their shirt pocket. “Totally forgot I brought backup! Hey do you wa…” Words trailed off into oblivion as they spotted a dark figure hiding in the shadows.

Listening to how Metzli slurred their words, Milo knew he wasn’t far behind them in terms of inebriation. Lucky for him his week long binge with Alex had managed to raise his tolerance, either that or his friend had been sneaking shots when he wasn’t looking. Either was possible, if he was being entirely honest. Still looking down at them he laughed when they raised their middle finger in response to the beer, it seemed the gesture was their most reliable way of communicating with each other. “You didn’t save me.” He countered. “You threw yourself at a slayer, I would have been fine if you didn’t decide to drag me into your mess.” Hearing the track in the background change, he wasn’t surprised to realise Metzli had an entire album saved to their phone. They looked like the My Chemical Romance type. He opened his mouth to say so but was interrupted by an uneven sigh. He knew without his new senses he wouldn’t have heard it, he knew he should probably pretend he hadn’t heard it. But the sound that managed to escape his friend was so genuinely forlorn, ignoring it didn’t feel like an option. “Hey-” He started, his voice soft, and comforting. But he couldn’t finish his sentence. As quickly as Metzli’s frown had appeared, it was gone, replaced by a mischievous grin, and a flask drawn from inside their shirt pocket.

He reached out, ready to swipe it from their hands, but their gaze caught on something behind him. Assuming it was one of the ghosts, he turned to look too, but was only able to make out a vague shadow. Something ominous, lurking just beyond the line of the trees. The ghosts were gone, silent enough for him to hear a very human heartbeat if he focused. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he understood what was happening a moment too late. There was a sharp sound of something being released, followed by a rush of air. He didn’t have time to react, and the projectile shot past him, clipping his arm as he threw himself to the ground. He landed next to Metzli, eyes wide, glasses crooked where they had nearly fallen from the end of his nose. The pain in his arm wasn’t severe, but he was drunk, and he knew his pain tolerance was high because of that. Wincing, he forced himself to drop his can so that he could reach up and press a hand against the injury. The smell of beer began to fill the air as it bubbled, spilling out onto the grass beside him. Exhaling a breath, the cut wasn’t deep, and it definitely wasn’t lethal, but when he pulled his hand away his palm was black, and slick with blood. Scrambling to push his back up against the tombstone, his mind struggled to form a coherent plan. Even if Metzli wanted to take on whoever was hiding in the woods, they were in no fit state to try. “Shit-” He hissed. “Shit- what do we do?”

Metzli jumped at the dull thud Milo’s body made when he made impact onto the dirt floor next to them. “What the—” Thick, black blood pooled through his fingers as he applied pressure to his newfound wound. Mouth agape, ready to say something more, a wheezing laugh spilled forward and they crawled to the tombstone for cover. When they poked their head out above it, an arrow whizzed past their head, barely missing them. “Ha-ha! You missed!” A drunk and taunting finger pointed at the hidden hunter, and another arrow shot out, directly to their face.

Everything went black as Metzli closed their eyes and shot their hand up. By some miracle, a thing they didn’t even believe in, they had caught the arrow. More laughter ensued as they swiftly got back to the ground to show Milo. “Hey! Hey! Milo, look at this! I fucking caught it!” Pure, unfiltered shock littered their face as a smile curled onto their lips. They felt like a god, like they could do anything. And no slayer could possibly beat them, even in their inebriated state.

Milo stared at Metzli in disbelief as they began to laugh. But within seconds he was overcome by the urge himself. There were so many things to laugh at. He was a vampire, hanging out in a cemetery with another vampire. His life was beyond a joke at this point. Things had become so weird that for a second he had forgotten just how weird they really were. It was crazy to think he used to be human. For twenty two years this world had been make believe, something in tv shows, and bad YA novels. Now he was living it, apparently to a My Chemical Romance soundtrack. It crept up on him, building in his chest, then his throat, before finally escaping his mouth. A peal of laughter, genuine, and unfiltered, echoed across the empty grounds. Too distracted by his own situation to register his friend standing up, it was only as Metzli joined him again that he realised what he had missed. “You- what?” He only laughed harder at the revelation, feeling a little delirious. “You fucking liar, there’s no way-” Reaching to take the arrow out of their hands, he bent the wood, testing its strength because he could. It was pretty regular, as far as he could tell. There didn’t seem to be anything special about it. Tapping Metzli on the head with the point, he carelessly threw it to the ground. “Why us?” He asked, tears running down his cheeks as he attempted to reign himself in. “Do you think we’re cursed?”

“Sir, I am a lot of things, but I am not a liar!” Metzli said through laughter and wheezing coughs. The situation at hand was crazy, too crazy for anyone to believe if they got the chance to tell anyone about it. “Why us? Because we’re having fun and hunters hate that we have fun!” Getting up, they took the arrow with them and began to trek onward to the hunter. Before they could make it even three steps though, an arrow shot right into their shoulder. An exclamation of pain reverberated from their chest as they fell back, rolling to their feet to stand up again.

Anger pulsed through their drunken mind. Alcohol reinforced that anger, manifesting it into a loud growl from Metzli. “Is that all you got?! Fucking coward! Shooting from all the way over there!” They were being reckless, too motivated by their state of inebriation. An arrow still protruded from their shoulder, going all the way through.It took mere moments, but the situation went from humorous, to extremely dangerous without Metzli even noticing. Having a care about their well-being would’ve helped, but there was none to be found. It was as lost as their soul.

“Oof!” Taunting the hunter worked. Metzli was tackled, extremely hard onto the ground, pushing the arrow back into them. Pain would’ve been made more prominent had it not been for the shelf’s worth of alcohol in their system.

Raising his eyebrows, something about the statement struck Milo as odd. When he finally realised what it was he felt a little ridiculous. Not too ridiculous to be honest though. “Y’know… I don’t think anyone has ever called me ‘sir’ before.” He admitted, giggling at the unusual admission. Honestly, he had never earned the courtesy. Anybody who didn’t know his name and wanted to get his attention usually resorted to insults before titles. There was no need to be polite when you were throwing somebody out of a bar, or berating them for unashamedly doing drugs in the bathroom. “I like it.” Scrubbing his hand against the grass, attempting to wipe away some of his blood, he wrinkled his nose as dirt and beer got dirt caught under his fingernails. Why was nothing ever as easy as it looked in the movies? “I think a lot of people hate fun,” he pointed out, thinking of how his parents liked to try and control his substance abuse, of the way people looked down on him, or tried to tell him they were concerned because he enjoyed certain vices more than others. “But yeah, maybe hunters more than most…” Shifting as Metzli stood again, he was ready for them to tease the Hunter hiding in the woods. If they did so from where they were standing then it wouldn’t be difficult for them to drop back down to safety. But they stepped out from behind their barricade, making themself incredibly vulnerable. “Metzli- wait-” He hissed, but it was too late. He hurried to get to his knees, peering over the stone so that he could watch the chaos unfold.

Metzli’s voice rang out, loud and clear. He wasn’t sure actively encouraging the person trying to kill them was a very good idea, but before he could tell them they seemed to stumble. In the blink of an eye an arrow was protruding from their shoulder and he stared, frozen in horror. “Stop!” He shouted, though he wasn’t sure whether he was talking to Metzli, or the hunter. He only knew this was no longer funny. As quickly as the humour had come, it had dissolved, melting away to be replaced by a familiar sense of fear. Jeez, it really was never ending. “No- wait- shit-” He shouted again, inching closer as Metzli was tackled to the ground. It went against all of his instincts to follow his friend’s footsteps, to make himself vulnerable, but he didn’t know what else he could do aside from watch them suffer. A few more seconds passed, and Metzli only succeeded in getting pushed against the ground with more force, so he steeled himself, forcing his mind to sober up before running at the hunter, tackling them in the same way they had tackled Metzli. He hit them full force, throwing them off of his friend, and rolled with them, unable to keep track of who was where, and whether he was in danger. He couldn’t see any obvious weapons, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any on the hunter’s person.

The scuffle was a blur, made worse by the drunken state Metzli was in. Through it all, they laughed and wheezed. “Is that all you got? You’re the worst hunter I’ve ever—” They watched in awe as Milo fought against both his instincts and the hunter, who cried out in pain. He was obviously new, still untrained in various ways. Thus, the reason why the taunting worked. He needed to stop using long range attacks, and prove himself. This was his own undoing and Metzli pointed at him, and laughed. “Oh man, you really suck at this!”

Reaching towards the struggle, they pulled the hunter off of Milo. After a swift click! Metzli was thrown back by yet another arrow in their stomach, dropping the hunter in the process. “Goddammit!” Pain was still dulled out, but they were frustrated nonetheless. “I’m literally two inches away. The least you can do is actually make me dust. Jesus!” They said, getting up and kicking the hunter in the head. He was now knocked out cold. Problem officially solved.

“All right, you wanna get more drinks?” Still not minding the second arrow in them, they asked Milo, and continued walking in a drunken stupor.

Milo felt the weight lift from his body, and sat up as best he could, just in time to watch the hunter shoot another arrow at Metzli. This one hit them in the stomach, but they still didn’t seem bothered by the pain, or the knowledge of what was happening. He opened his mouth, taking a breath ready to speak, but he couldn’t find his words. What was there to say? Nothing was going to stop this, nothing was going to change the mind of Metzli or the person still pointing a weapon at them. Wincing as his friend continued to insult the hunter, he couldn’t help but realise if they had been more adept then both of them would probably be dead by now. Dead dead. Really they should be thanking them for not being skilled enough to take out two incredibly inebriated vampires. Flinching as a sudden crack rang out, he saw Metzli kick the hunter, and the action played again inside his head, slow motion allowing him to see just how brutal the move had been. A gasp escaping him, he crawled over to where they were sprawled on the grass, unconscious, and no longer a threat.

“What did you do?” He demanded, eyes wide as he took in the situation. Metzli standing, two arrows protruding from their torso, and the hunter now potentially concussed, vulnerable, and alone on their back. He still didn’t feel sober, but his mind was working to process information like he was. He gently pried open one of the hunter’s eyelids, checking their pupil for any sign of trauma. Then tilted his head towards them, taking note of their steady breathing, and the strong heartbeat within their chest. “More drinks?” He echoed, looking back up at Metzli. The offer was tempting. Anything to forget what had just happened, the casual horrors he now seemed destined to witness on a near daily basis. Was he ever going to get used to this? The violence of it all? “I-” Glancing back down at the unconscious form, he was confident they were about to wake up. Any longer than a few minutes could mean brain damage, but their vitals were steady, and their pupils were regular. Chances were, the shock more than anything had caused them to black out, which meant they didn’t have long to make their escape. “Fuck it.” He muttered, getting clumsily to his feet. “Let’s get out of here, I think they’re about to come to…” He admitted, moving away from the hunter towards the entrance of the cemetery. “And then we can deal with this,” he added, gesturing vaguely to the arrows embedded in his company. He still didn’t understand how Metzli could be so provocative, but he didn’t want to understand. Whatever they were dealing with was their issue. So long as he could keep them alive, he had done his part. “You’re going to need blood.”

Milo looked like a professional moving about the hunter’s body, checking on him. “You a doctor or something? Who cares about this idiot anyway? If he’s dead, he’s dead. Lucky he would be in a cemetery,” Metzli chuckled dryly, pulling the arrows out of their body with audible grunts of discomfort. Part of them wished the arrows had actually pierced their heart, but they weren’t so lucky. “He definitely wouldn’t think twice to check on us. As long as we’re dust, he’s happy. So fuck him.” The arrows clattered to the ground and they scowled at Milo for trying to baby them.

“I know what my body needs,” they barked back, following Milo to the exit with a huff. Metzli was offended, more than they should have been, but alcohol had a way of doing that. On the way out, they picked up their phone which had been playing House of Wolves. They shut it off and pocketed the phone. “I’m going home. Maybe I’ll get a snack from my friend. I’m done.”

Metzli walked past Milo in a fast walk, sulking and battered. Not looking at him, they said, “Let me know if you wanna hang out again I guess. Try not to be too sad without my presence, depresso.” Everything about their appearance was so messy and forlorn, only snapping out of it when the gate closed with a metallic clang! for the second time tonight. “Later, kid.”

“My parents are doctors.” Milo admitted, remembering a time where he used to proudly announce he was going to be a doctor one day too. Just like mommy and daddy. How embarrassing. Holding his tongue before he could insist he cared about the person lying on the floor, he wasn’t sure how true that statement was. Hunter or otherwise, they had chosen to confront two vampires. Two vampires who weren’t hurting anybody, who just wanted a short break from the world. They didn’t deserve to die, he knew that much. But Metzli was right, he wouldn’t be offered the same courtesy in return. “We can’t just- just kill people,” he countered, almost disturbed by how casual his friend sounded. He wanted to believe they didn’t mean it, but of course they did. “If we do then we’re as bad as they all think we are…” Continuing in his journey towards the boundaries of the cemetery, he only stopped as he heard the arrows hit the ground. One soft clatter, followed by another. He wanted to tell Metzli they shouldn’t have taken them out, that was First Aid 101. But they couldn’t exactly wander through town with them, so he stayed quiet.

A frown creasing his brow at the shift in tone, he wondered briefly whether other people felt this annoyed by his mood swings. “Clearly you don’t because the last time we met you were starving yourself.” He bit out, unable to help himself. “Fine, go drink your friend’s blood while you’re wasted, and hurt. Because that doesn’t sound like a terrible idea.” Running a hand through his hair, he straightened his glasses, pressing his fingertips against his injured arm. He could still feel the blood soaking through the material of his hoodie. “Are you actually leaving?” He demanded, watching as Metzli let the gate swing shut behind them. “Fine, whatever.” He called after them. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Fuck off,” Metzli growled back, annoyed by the kid’s unnecessary sass. “We are as bad as people think we are. But you know what, so are humans. He was just going to kill us.” They mocked back, throwing the words he had just used against him. The hunter was going to kill them without a second thought, so they saw no need to think about his life. He probably didn’t choose this life, but he also didn’t need to take on more than he could chew. Idiot.

“Yeah, I’m leaving. I don’t need you to give a shit.” Metzli flipped him off as they walked away, disappearing into the cold night.

Milo stared at Metzli, watching them as they left the cemetery feeling far too many emotions at once. Fear, worry, exhaustion, relief… He knew they had a point, he just wasn’t ready to accept that. He couldn’t bring himself to accept that. It scared him knowing he was changing. He had grown used to the physical changes, the ways his new life needed to revolve around blood, around nightfall, around a constant feeling of thirst. But seeing so many vampires who were numb to violence felt different. Even in his own circuits, the ones where people got beaten up for the sake of a hit, or robbed at knifepoint because they owed a dealer money, he had never grown used to it, merely avoided it to the best of his ability. The blood still running down his arm was testament to the fact that he couldn’t avoid this violence. It was going to chase him wherever he went simply because some asshole decided to drain him of his blood. Flipping Metzli off in return as they disappeared from view, the gesture no longer felt affectionate, or carefree. Suddenly alone with the sound of quiet breathing, he knew he didn’t have much time. The hunter was due to regain consciousness, and he needed to be far, far away before that happened. Putting more pressure against his arm, he took a deep breath to steady himself, running over the list of friends he knew he could turn to for help. And then he set off, putting the cemetery, and the events of the evening behind him.

#c:metzli #milo and metzli #head trauma tw #eating disorder tw #alcohol tw

2 notes · View notes

peterpan-ouat-imagines · 3 years

Text

In Hell I Will: Part 4

Fuck. What the hell do I pick? I should pick the right thing and go with Emma and Hook to get the names off the tombstones which Hades did so we couldn’t leave but Peter Pan is so dreamy and wants me for me and everything feels so real and natural with him.

I decide it’s best to sleep on it. I don’t get any sleep though. Peter Pan consumes my thoughts almost as if he’s put a spell on me. Could he?

The next morning I get up and dress in some cute clothes and I’m ready to see Pan.

I walk down the stairs of Emma’s underworld house about to sneak out. When I make it to the end of the front yard I start to think about what I told Henry. “I’m so used to doing the right thing but here I don’t know what’s right or wrong” I can’t be a hypocrite, seeing Pan is clearly wrong no matter how right it feels.

Screw that even if I tried I’d never fit in here. I keep walking but once I get to the beginning of the trail into the woods I feel too guilty leaving people who are counting on me. I turn around like the stupid good girl I am. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a conscience so I could be more rebellious.

Hook walks in and it lifts my spirits a little seeing him. Yet of course I can’t talk to him about what’s going on because no one likes the notorious Peter Pan especially his enemy.

“Ready?” Emma asks walking in.

“Um uh, yeah,” we all walk out towards the graveyard.

We all stand in front of a tombstone that has Mary Margaret’s name on it and Emma blasts a white beam of magic on it. It’s mesmerizing watching it flow but I try to focus. My mind wanders to Pan and how I stood him up knowing that I screwed it up.

There comes a large gust of wind feeling as if I could get knocked down.

“This way!” Hook yells and we run to a much larger tombstone hiding behind it as a tornado of some type comes.

We all hear a growling sound, something is definitely out there.

“Emma, give me your gun, if it is on my side like it sounds I can shoot at it,”

“Y/n, that’s a bad idea,” she tells me.

“But I’ve got a good aim!” I tell her.

I stare at it and grab it anyway and lean over but she pulls me back before I can even poke an eye out, “I said no!” she yells. I nod understanding.

We make a run for Regina’s vault that is nearby, “We should be safe here,” Hook tells us.

“Why didn’t you let me make that shot? We both know I’m a great shooter” I ask pissed off.

She hesitates before answering softly, “I saw in my dream that told me this might work, Mary Margaret came instead of you and she went to shoot an arrow,” she waits a few seconds before she continues, “...she died in it,”

I get furious and upset when she tells me that, “So what am I? Disposable? You could have brought her and told her not to shoot! So was all that, “we need you” sincere or just so I could have possibly died instead of her?!” I yell.

“Y/n,-” Emma says.

“No! Answer me! If you were going to let me stay in Storybrooke when I first arrived to help me just so I could die?!” She doesn’t say anything and stands speechless. I huff and storm out.

I walk out of the vault and it almost looks like the tornado that came through is starting to die out.

I march off towards the well filled with too many emotions to think and Hook runs after me, “Y/n, wait,” he catches up to me.

“What?” I growl not calming down.

“I know you’re mad at Emma but please just listen to her,” he tells me. After a moment of silence he continues, “I know when something is bothering you, what else is going on,” he tells me.

I sigh, “It’s boy stuff you wouldn’t be interested in hearing about it,”

“I always want to hear what you have to say, as long as it isn’t sexual,” he tells me and chuckles after the last part.

I look down in the well, “There’s this guy and no one I know likes him, but I want approval of him. I won’t tell you who it is but he’s the only person I can think of. Like why should I be good and have crap like what Emma pulled happen to me when I can be bad and be with him?”

“Good always beats evil. I didn’t know that's why Emma brought you out here, truly,” he tells me.

“Thanks,” I smile softly.

I let him go back to where we previously were saying I need another minute.

I look down in the well again for another minute or so before I head back.

An arm pulls me aside and before I know my body is almost touching Pan’s.

“You waited...” I say surprised.

“Of course I did why wouldn’t I?” he asks.

I don’t answer and kiss him, “I want to stay but I have to go back. They’re waiting on me,” I huff annoyed.

“You don’t sound like you want to. If you stay with me I know it will be a pleasant time,” he interlocks his fingers with mine and I can’t help but smile.

“Let’s just not talk about it,” I say.

“C’mon, let’s go for a walk,” he tells me.

“A walk? I thought you said it was just going to be physical?” I ask perplexed.

“I suggested it could just be physical. That’s up to you if it is,” he reaches his hand out, “Is it worth the risk?” He asks me.

I stare at it for a second and then up at him. I take his hand and we go on the trail.

When we get to the toll bridge we stop and sit down. I look down in it and it’s glowing green as bodies that look like ghosts float in it and it’s very creepy.

“What are we doing here? This is creeping me out,” I tell him scooting closer to him.

“When you’ve been in the Underworld as long as I have you find new definitions of romance,” he tells me, “Or maybe I just wanted you to scoot close to me like that,” I giggle.

“Alright, just don’t let me fall in,” I say.

“What changed your mind? About coming to see me?” He asks.

I take a deep breath and tell him everything that happened since we got to the graveyard.

He looks completely surprised, “Y/n I’m so sorry that happened to you,”

“Me too,” I share.

We continue to talk and I start to enjoy him more and more.

I hear a howl when he’s about to kiss me and look in that direction, “Did you hear that?”

“No I didn’t now where were we?” He leans in and he’s definitely lying.

“We have to check it out!” I get up and walk in the direction as I hear the running get louder.

I stand in position ready to shoot as Pan keeps trying to talk me out of it about how it’s a bad idea and to go back.

I see it’s fur through the leaves and pull the trigger as it bursts through and then a second as it limps.

“Help me push it aside and we can cover it with this red cape,” I tell him, “once it’s hidden I’ll get Emma and Hook,” I explain. He helps me.

When I throw it over the wolf a woman sits up and pulls it off her. I begin feeling awful and apologizing. I help her up and before you know Hook, Emma, and Regina arrive.

“What the hell happened?” Emma asks rushing to the woman’s side, “Ruby?” She sees the gunshot wound and hovers her hand over it and heals it.

We help her up and to Mary Margaret and David’s apartment and she tells us about her time at Oz and with Dorothy and how Dorothy is in a sleeping curse.

Ruby grabs my arm as I walk away, “Y/n, thank you for saving me,” she says with sincerity.

“Why are you thanking me? I shot you,” I ask.

“If it wasn’t for you and that guy you were with I would still be a wolf. Thank you for changing me back” she explains.

Emma turns around curious, “Guy? What guy?” Emma asks me.

“No one” I answer a little too fast. I’m a horrible liar.

She stares at me for a few seconds, “You’re lying,” she states plainly.

I know the charade wouldn’t last but I expected it to be longer. I still am not going to give up after how happy I learned someone could make me, “Emma, I know you think you have a thing with being able to tell if someone is lying, but I’m not. Your “super power” or whatever isn’t real,” I try to convince her but by her face I’m not sure whether I got agree with it. Mostly because Emma seems so stubborn about being able to tell when someone is lying.

“Fine,” Emma says, “But this isn’t the end of this conversation,”

I gulp shocked I got away without her trying to badger me more.

Later that night I’m still pissed at Emma and refuse to be around her and stay at Mary Margaret’s and David’s apartment. I explain what went down and they give some advice. I go and sleep on the bed up high. When they close there door to sleep I get a surprise visit.

“Y/n,” Pan whispers.

I turn and see him and get butterflies, “What are you doing here? They could see you!”

“That’s what makes this more exciting,” he tells me.

“I’m sorry about how things ended earlier. I didn’t expect to encounter a werewolf,” I apologize.

“We were both caught off guard,” he tells me.

“Why are you here? I didn’t expect you to come tonight or I would have looked better for the occasion,” I ask indicating my appearance.

“I felt like our time was cut short. I wanted more time with you.”

I can’t help but blush when he tells me that.

“Pan, this isn’t going to end well. At some point we will be able to go back and you can’t come. Nor would anyone let you stay in Storybrooke if you could,” I tell him.

“Y/n, can you keep a secret?” I nod, “I will have a heart by the time you leave, one that can survive up there,”

“Pan, don’t tell me you’re going to kill someone,” I tell him.

“I am not killing anyone,” he tells me and I believe him.

I lay my head on his shoulder, “Things feel so easy and real with you. Not like with everyone else I’m around. They all think I escaped a bad situation. Like real world stuff. They don’t know the full story,” I tell him.

“What’s the full story?” he asks.

“A shit show. I was trying to find my family and made a deal with a witch and it all went to hell. They just think I was in danger and needed help. They have no idea what I knew about magic and everything before arriving,” I tell him.

“When we get back to Storybrooke and figure things out, I can be your family,” he tells me.

I kiss his cheek.

“I’m getting tired I’m gonna go to sleep,” I tell him.

He stays there and I feel him hold me as I fall asleep.

16 notes · View notes

lokispettigerr · 4 years

Text

To Summon A Witcher: Geralt x Reader Chapter 1 (NSFW) Smut

Summary: Reader lives and works in one of the most romantic cities in the US, Charleston, SC. However, because of the city's colored past, romance isn’t the only thing that can be found there– it is said that ghosts, goblins, ghouls and the like make the city their home. When Reader meets one of these creatures she has to get the help of someone not quite so human in order to be free, but he frees her from much more than she ever expected.

Taglist: In reblog

Word Count: 1769

Warnings: This shit spooky, fam. Graveyard, and corpse mention.

A/N: This is the first-ever Geralt fic I have written. I hope you enjoy it! Leave me your thoughts in the comments or in an ask!

“Yeah, it’s this huge guy with stark-white hair, golden eyes, and seriously, a body that could pick me up and snap me like a twig,” I told my best friend, Genny.

“Sounds hot. I’m not sure I understand where this is a problem?” She swirled the coffee mug around, stirring up the settled liquid in her latte. “I mean, unless you are waking up to find that these dreams with the ‘Daddy-white-haired-tree-man’ are really wet dreams that soak your covers through… I could see that as being a problem.” She laughed a musical beautiful laugh. I danced around her comment, not wanting her to know how I felt when I woke up from the dreams of the mysterious man or the nature of some of the dreams which truly did feature bare skin, hard muscle, and moans that rang out in unison.

“Genny, I have never seen this man before in my life, yet he has been in every dream I have had for months now. I just don’t know what it means.”

“Sure, but you’ve had to have seen him somewhere.” She looked around us now, glancing all about the outside patio of the coffee shop that was nestled between a bakery and a uniquities store. People were milling about, their arms full of shopping bags or clutching briefcases or talking on their cell phones. “Honestly, I want to see this guy.” Genny licked her lips. “Maybe he is nearby right now,” she whispered, “Either that or he was the main stud on some porn. Yeah, that’s likely it.”

I stared at her blankly. Why did everything have to come back to sex? I mean, to be fair things always came back to sex for the both of us and this was likely one of the reasons why we enjoyed each other's company so much, but this was serious. Dreams mean something, or so my mother taught me to believe. And I couldn’t help but think that the man in my dreams had something to do with my current predicament. After all, they had started shortly after things took a turn for the worse.

I’d felt it on more than one occasion, and lately with the way things were going whatever beasty was following me seemed to only be growing stronger.

It had first started on a cold, wet day. The rain had been steadily falling for more than a week, but that day the wind was stirring maddeningly and there had been a tornado warning.

When the storm began I was at work and after the numerous alerts and warnings, me and my coworkers were all told it would be best if we left. In my rush, I dashed out of the door with only my keys.

I had forgotten my bag and my phone and all the contents that I had slowly collected over the years and kept in a satchel as a sort of talisman to ward off evil spirits and the like that seemed to want to attach themselves to me.

The satchel contained an odd assortment of things: a small vial of salt, a clay statue with its own strikingly unusual appearance, a stone of jet, a globe of labradorite, and the tooth of a black cat that all helped me to feel safe, to be protected and to walk unnoticed throughout the world-- at least in the realm of those things not living.

From childhood, I noticed shadows, without shape or form. Most of the time they were harmless. As I grew older, I became more aware of other creatures and entities. The shadows would go from playful to predatorial.

I quickly grew scared and when my mother found out she took me to see a children’s therapist. The apparitions did not stop, they poured forth latching onto my fears, my desperation and hopelessness. It was as if I had become a house for them to dwell within.

I became haunted.

I passed through the hands of multiple therapists, too many to even count. None of them could help me. I was a child becoming a teen that was out of their depth. They either pitied me, despised me, or feared me.

Eventually, my mother heard tell of a spiritual healer, who was no more than a witch, yet she was the only one who could help.

Instead of claiming that I was delusional or sick, the healer praised me for my abilities and told my mother I was gifted, however, the healer sensed the dark energies threatening to consume me and crafted the satchel that had been blessed and enchanted with wards to keep me safe.

And from then on, I carried it with me wherever I went.

That is, until the day the tornado hit.

I’d left work feeling hopeful that I would make it home before the storm became dangerous. But the further I went, the harder the storm raged. I lived in an aged and historic town and was lucky enough to be within walking distance from my work. A few blocks and I would have been home.

I dashed through the rain, taking care not to slip and hurt myself. My keys jangled loudly against my hip.

Rainwater was pelting my eyes and I had trouble seeing. I was soaked. Lightning flashed while thunder rumbled threateningly.

If I would have left a few minutes earlier from my work maybe things would have been different.

If I would have not forgotten my purse with the enchanted satchel within maybe things would be better for me.

Being a human means making human mistakes and mistakes breed consequences that are not often too kind.

I’d rounded a corner at the French district, splashing through puddles when I came to the wrought iron, overgrown with ivy and tangled weeds, entrance of the graveyard.

People often said the graveyard was haunted, cursed.

There were ghost walks and spirit tours that brought groups of people to this very cemetery so they could “Oooo” and “Aahhh” and romanticize about all the horrific deeds that had taken place here. They would return home or to their inns or their taverns and tell the stories they had heard over a beer with a friend, or sitting in front of their fireplace, or tucked into a cool bed on a winter night.

The locals all knew this cemetery was bad news, nothing good ever came of it except for the endless revenue of the ghost tours that the cemetery enticed.

I planned to continue on down the block, straight past the graveyard, but a harsh streak of lightning cut through the sky overhead and thunder cracked so loudly I could feel it deep within my very bones.

Though I cringed at the thought, I knew that if I cut through the graveyard I would be home in half the time.

I gulped and with a look of harsh determination on my face, I ran into the graveyard, pushing my body through the gate.

It closed behind me with a harsh clang, but I continued.

I wasn’t interested in taking my time like some of the tourists do when they come here to meander and ponder while they look at the ancient graves, too old to even have names or dates on them, or too overgrown with tangled foliage for anything to be made out.

There was a worn path beneath my feet, and the rainwater had caused it to be treacherously slick with red clay mud. It threatened to be surpassed and covered in its entirety by tall and leggy green weeds. They slapped relentlessly at my calves and thighs as I ran through.

The weeds made me run blindly. I thought if I stayed on the path it was safest, but I was wrong.

My foot caught on a thick, twisting root that lay horizontally before me. It snaked from one set of graves to another, likely gaining nourishment from the rotting corpses underneath the ground.

I fell, catching myself on the heels of my hands. My pants leg was ripped open and a sharp, sudden pain could be felt above my knee.

I sat up, thoroughly covered in mud and grime from the cemetery, my hair completely soaked through, my clothes stuck against my skin and inspected the gaping wound above my knee. It wouldn’t need stitches, but as soon as I got home I would have to place some butterfly bandages on the wound, or it was sure to leave an ugly scar.

A wet warmth spread along the skin of my knee as my pants soaked up the blood that was pouring forth.

Just then the wind gushed maddeningly, causing the trees in the graveyard to sway and the grey Spanish moss to dance. The trees creaked and groaned with their movement.

Nearby I heard a clicking noise and I couldn’t place it to anything natural. I shifted, sitting up straight, remaining still so I could hear whatever the noise belonged to.

A shadow crossed my periphery and I turned my head towards the movement.

Whatever it was, was using the headstones to hide and shifting between them, manipulating the shadows of the graves to appear “natural”.

But the feeling of dread I had that I often associated with the shadow beings from my past was all too familiar.

My hands fumbled around for my purse. I would grab the enchanted draw-string satchel and would put an end to this shadow thing coming after me.

It was then, I realized my mistake. I had left my purse at work.

“Shit!”

The clicking grew louder and before me, the shadow began to take form.

I knew I couldn’t turn around. All I could do now was keep moving forward, towards home-- towards safety.

The shadow-being before me darkened, swirling and shifting menacingly, and I rose to my feet charging through it.

When I passed through its still collecting form, I felt a cold that seeped into my bones and gripped with a deadly claw around the deepest parts of my being. It was as if, in doing that it knew me. Everything about me.

My darkest desires, my deepest fears, my hopes and my failures.

I ran from the storm.

I ran from the graveyard.

I ran from the shadow that threatened to abolish me.

Things have been a nightmare since and the depression I was treated for long ago with the help of the spiritual healer is slowly lurking back.

I am certain the shadow beast followed me home, and what I am most uncertain of is how to get rid of it.

**** Hope you all enjoyed chapter 1! Please get this fic out into the tumblr verse by reblogging, commenting, and even sending asks if you feel like it! If you would like to support me head on over to my Patreon where you will get access to my fics before anywhere else and much more! Or fuel me with Ko-fi! Until next time! Peace, Loki’s Pet Tiger

#geralt fanfic #geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt x you #geralt x reader #geralt lemons #geralt smut #lpt #geralt fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x you #henry cavill geralt #henry cavill fanfiction

249 notes · View notes

sublimeswift · 3 years

Text

The ivy breakdown that no one asked for.

This has most likely all ready been said but I feel ivy is Taylor singing from the perspective of a woman who is either dead and was having an affair with another woman before she died, or who is in a loveless marriage and is having an affair or has fallen in love with someone who does not want her back.

“How's one to know? I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones” sounds like a description of a graveyard, this could be because she believed that love is dead as she and her husband are not truly in love

“And the old widow goes to the stone every day, but I don't, I just sit here and wait grieving for the living” this could be her talking about her spouse who is still alive, but in her grave she is grieving for those tied to people they do not love, such as the one she was having an affair with and their spouse.

“My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand, taking mine, but it's been promised to another” she is referring to the affair again, mentioning that she is betrothed to another partner, so although they fit perfectly together, she belongs to someone else and they know this is a delicate relationship

“He's in the room, your opal eyes are all I wish to see, he wants what's only yours” she refering to her secret lovers spouse, and I feel she’s refering to her loving them for their whole being, in contrast to their husband only loving them for their body and intimacy.

“Clover blooms in the fields, spring breaks loose, the time is near, what would he do if he found us out? Crescent moon, coast is clear, spring breaks loose, but so does fear. He's gonna burn this house to the ground” it sounds like they were planning to run away together during the night in the spring, they’re close to the time but not sure they can commit to the plan as they fear for what the outcome may be

“How's one to know? I'd live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time” Taylor’s character knew that this wasn’t going to last forever deep down, but still treasured every moment they had together and felt it was a full love even if not a promised one

“So tell me to run, or dare to sit and watch what we'll become, and drink my husband's wine” this is the line which makes me believe she’s writing about wlw rather than from a male perspective, as she’s mentioned two male lovers, one who lists after her mystery lover and this husband who her hand has been promised to

“Oh, I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland. My house of stone, your ivy grows and now I’m covered in you” ivy is a weed which is clingy and hard to get rid of, so Taylor may use this as an analogy for the character who is experiencing a love which she didn’t ask for, and maybe wasn’t open to, but can’t quite seem to shake, and is taking over her life and heart.

#my ivy analysis #no one asked #ivy #me #evermore #Taylor swift #gaylor

12 notes · View notes

thelordstears · 3 years

Text

Oh look, more fuckin’ writing, who woulda thunk it????

"There's no heroes nor villains in this shattered mind of mine. Just phantoms that dance in my headspace and leave a haunting echo of what never was.” - Elijah Vanders

“ These fires creep up my skin and leave me horrified of all the burns I've endured, but alas, they are no scald marks of the body, but of the mind.” - Elijah Vanders

“ I miss everything I've lost, everything I used to be.” - Elijah Vanders

“ This world was never for the broken, because people condemn what they might never understand, they tell you it's all in your head, and that's the issue. It is all in my head, and I wish it wasn't, because I'd rather face reality baring my teeth to the sky and bleeding from the lip then face the things I do on the daily.” - Elijah Vanders

“ I could look up at the stars and ask them "Why oh why am I a broken vagabond of this shattered world?" And all they'd do is blink out.” - Darkin Vagabond

“ I must confess, I feel like a monster, and all I can do really is hide from myself.” - Darkin Vagabond

“ Here I am, yearning for a better tomorrow, but all I do is sink into my blankets and know, there is no better tomorrow if I don't fight for it. And so I sleep the night away, fearing what it is the day shalt bring.” - Darkin Vagabond

“ How can I run from all this pain if it's apart of me? How could I possibly escape myself?” - Darkin Vagabond

"We condemn what we do not understand, and thus, we can never learn. Perhaps if the village folk within Salem would've learned more if they had questioned the falsely accused instead of burn them at the stake, they would never howl answers, only pain.” - Ferdinand Lawlor

“ Perhaps we have damned ourselves, but oh well, this is a world damned to Hell, so what is a damned man in a world that's already on fire?” - Ferdinand Lawlor

“ I've learned Heaven is a right, and we've lost it.” - Ferdinand Lawlor

"The end of a rope can either be a saving grace or the thing that kills a man. I've been on both sides of the spectrum, swinging from the gallows of my own sin and pulled to shore by people who care to forgive me.” - Eduardo Villifex

“ I'm not a good man, anymore. I used to be, as most did, but my heart twisted black and pain is all I know these days. But not because I'm in it, because I cause it.” - Eduardo Villifex

"Dis is a long bloody road I walk, dere ain't no end fo' me, just my enemies. So beware me pale red truck and 'eart filled with a desire fo' vengeance, because on dis road dere's corpses litterin' da highway and ain't none'a em gon' be me.” - Randall Lancaster

“I went through da stages'a grief, but dey forgot ta mention da last fokin' one. Anger.” - Randall Lancaster

“ I'm cold as ice, but me 'eart burns wif'a flame so fierce it puts Hell ta shame.” - Randall Lancaster

"I'm on a stage, the audience claps and cheers, but only for my death. I swing from gallows made up of the pain I've faced, I'm choking on my past, kicking air beneath me in a desperate attempt to save myself from this noose. And yet here I am, sputtering up all this darkness in my history.” - Hermann Pastel

“ I am a man, I have never been Pinocchio, and I never needed Jipedo or the Blue fairy to make me a real boy. So oh Mister Kalarook, you are not the whale who swallowed me whole, you are no puppet master, you are a man, and thus you will bleed like one.” - Hermann Pastel

"In a town of wolves, crying wolf will only get you torn to pieces.” - Sav Gothenburg

“ I am no killer, and so I shalt not use this blade for sheep, but instead it shall remain clean until the wolf who tore into me is in front of me with his empty eyes and bloodstained smile.” - Sav Gothenburg

“ I know what he did in the dark, I know what he made in the dark, after all, he made his undoing.” - Sav Gothenburg

“ This world is not so fond of those who're different, I've watched as my father cut men and women down for defying his belief, and though I have escaped him, I have not escaped the memory, of him. I can still see his empty eyes and his bloodstained blade. I will never be whole, because the hauntings of him still plague me.” - Victoria Vaxwington

“ New York is a graveyard of those who committed the crime of being themselves.” - Victoria Vaxwington

“ I have learned sometimes angels must fall so devils no longer fly, sacrifices must be made so the enemy is put at a disadvantage that will lead to their demise in the future, but I do not play a game of chess, I do not put forth my pawns to become Queen's Gambit. I'd much rather call Stalemate then let someone who fights for me, die for me.” - Victor Da Ville

“ This world is full of devils who want to watch angels be torn from the sky on bloodied wings, and so I bare these teeth of mine and scowl at the sky, because in a world of devils, one must become the leviathan.” - Victor Da Ville

“ I am a man of justice, karma to those who have spilt innocent blood, I am a devil to all those who seek hellfire, and refuge for all who seek warmth.” - Victor Da Ville

"When you love someone so much, you know when you have to let them go. Even if only for a small while, it still pains you to do so. My darling Lizbeth, oh how it pained her to see me slink into the night with the stars, but when I returned to her, as the sun always does when it sinks, we danced under the rays of sunshine that slathered across our beautiful dance of shared love.” - Corrie Vendowoft

“ She's beautiful in all her broken pieces, we've both lead lives that left us shattered, but together we molded this glass into a wonderful puzzle that painted a picture of us, and us alone.” - Corrie Vendowoft

“ It is dangerous, to love someone so completely that you'd put your life on the line for them, but so long as I live in danger with her, I will always accept it.” - Corrie Vendowoft

"I could say my life is almost like a photograph, frame by frame I see the beauty through the lenses of love. Snapshots of this love I have force the pain out of my smile, all I know these days is a fiery passion for the woman I stride underneath the sun with, in her arms I feel so complete, so loved in a world that tried to make me hate.” - Lizbeth Samwick

“ I love Corrie, it's not just something I feel in my heart or my mind, but something that trickles down to my very soul and redefines who I am. I fought my desire for so long, I said to myself "She can't be yours, by God she can't." But when she smiled and ran a hand through my hair I knew, by God she's mine. “ - Lizbeth Samwick

“ I would dance underneath the stars with that woman, follow her to the ends of the Earth and charge into a burning building if it mean saving her.” - Lizbeth Samwick

"We yearn for an answer to existence, but I think it's a simple one. To exist is to simply breathe, but the meaning to life is to love the world, as it has always loved you.” - Sabu Thorn

“ Nature has never been sinful, everything in nature has a reason to be there, the cycle of kill or be killed is only relevant for predators, and we were never wolves.” - Sabu Thorn

“ This world was never cruel, we just blame it for it's naturalities, you can not blame a wolf for snatching it's prey, and you can not blame nature for its defense mechanisms.” - Sabu Thorn

"I find that condemning love will only condemn he who damns it. Something so Heavenly and divine could never be sinful, why damn something as beautiful and complex as love? How much hate must you hold in your heart to despise something that never had to do with you?” - Abby Malroodge

“ The only one who can change me, is me.” - Abby Malroodge

“ Where would you pull your strength from if you've never had to be strong? Where would you pull your bravery from if you never knew what it was to be scared? Ya can't truly know what it is to live without a little bit of struggle.” - Abby Malroodge

“ Life isn't awful, moments are, remember this, because it might save you when all seems lost.” - Abby Malroodge

“ We're stars, shimmering in the dead of night, so twinkle on my friend, twinkle on. The world was made for you, so shine." - Abby Malroodge

"I'm not strong because of my past, I'm strong because of my choices, I am not strong because people hurt me, I'm strong because I rose up despite what they did.” - Morgan Mittel

“ I'd rather trek forward than look back, the future is where I'm headed, so why dwell on the past?” - Morgan Mittel

"The only things that've kept me alive are hope, and myself.” - Obi Zenton

“ I've been through plen'y, can't really kill my spirit, because it's always ragin' with some sort of flame that fuels me. Love, hate, anger. All of these things keep me goin', I spose I'm a mix of different emotions that keep my heart beatin'.” - Obi Zenton

“ I'm not just gonna lie down and die quietly, I'm a fighter, a survivor, always have been, and nuffin's gonna change that, nuffin'.” - Obi Zenton

“ I've already faced the world, so what makes you think I can't face you?” - Obi Zenton

“ I look up to the Heavens and pray, "Lord, please save me, we're all damned these days, save me." But all I've been hearing is the dying cries of men fighting for no real purpose.” - Zelene Clifforde

“ We are not wolves, we're human, why don't we act as such?” - Zelene Clifforde

“Savages with bloodstained smiles haunt me.” - Zelene Clifforde

“ People just don't understand, get in the way of history, you become it.” - Richmond Venwokbridge

“ The hounds of Hell could chase me down and I'd face them with a bloodstained blade and sins painted the color red on my sleeve.” - Richmond Venwokbridge

“ I have blood on my name, I'm practically a death omen.” - Richmond Venwokbridge

“ You can't tear my roots from this wicked family tree, because they'll wrap around your throat and swing you from the gallows of my dynasty.” - Richmond Venwokbridge

“ I prayed to the Heavens that she'd come back, she had to be alive. But as I looked to the sky the only answer I ever got was clouds shifting and the sun baring down on me. My mother was my hero, and they say we mimic our heroes, so might I one day bleed like her?” - Ariella Soro

“ If God was real why would he shatter a believer such as I? I used to say Amen, I used to get on my knees and pray. But all that ever got me was the rubble of my crumbled faith asphyxiating me.” - Ariella Soro

"I've dragged buried truths from the dark into the light kicking and screaming, but who ever knew the truth had claws and would tear into me like a lion feasting on a gazelle? How was I to possibly fathom the truth ripping into me just as karma rips into those who've done wrong?” - Lana Peixoto

“ I've always brandished this heart of mine and a pen. They say the pen is mightier than the sword, so why does blood spill while I write of tragedy?” - Lana Peixoto

“This world has stabbed so many knives in my back, and somedays I wonder how I haven't bled out, but the blood trickling down my jacket blends in with the black leather. Because I suppose in a world where the truth is a crime, telling the truth makes you villainous.” - Lana Peixoto

“A man I knew once told me we're all strong in our own right, its what we do with the strength that matters. But how am I to be strong when all it ever got me was beaten into pavement and whipped with the scars of a thousand bloodstained lies?” - Alaina Crossbellow

“Fear the woman with everything left to lose, because she'll fight like hell to keep it that way.” - Alaina Crossbellow

"If love is a battlefield, I'll grab my rifle and go to war. After all, I'd do anything for the woman I love, I'd catch bullets or sling em, I'd kick ass or get my ass kicked, if you love someone, you fight for them, it's as simple as that, really.” - Rachel Vandemann

“ Isn't it beautiful, to be so masterfully intertwined with another that their heartbeat becomes a melody and their smile a song?” - Rachel Vandemann

“ I stare into bloodshot eyes, alvawys vondering how zese hands are my own, zey have spilt so much blood, vatched men go down in spurts of red from zis Tommy gun I sling over my shoulder.” - Sanders Krauss

“ Zis blood on my hands haunts me, zere iz trouble in my daydreams and vickedness in my nightmares.” - Sanders Krauss

“ I shook hands vith ze devil, vith his hatchet shimmering red under ze starless night sky.” - Sanders Krauss

"I'd rather be the final bullet in a chamber than the ones that were fired off in rage.” - Carlita Hellslinger

“ I'm not the best woman in the world, but at least I'm good enough to end you.” - Carlita Hellslinger

“ He holds my heart, this battered scarred heart is his, because I found in all my loneliness, in all my solitude, in all my anger, he loved me. He loved the ugliest parts of me, and he called them beautiful.” - Carlita Hellslinger

“ I've lived in the dark my whole life, what makes you think I don't know what lurks?” - Carlita Hellslinger

"Somedays all I can hear is the echo of my past. But I suppose the sirens of love are louder. I must confess, these scars bleed, and somedays they define me, by God do they define me. But then I remember, it's only a memory, and you have a future to live, girl, so live it.” - Sage Caesar

“ A woman showed me what it is to love, Rosie in all her beautiful strength, showed me that love is no game, there's no losers nor winners, only people in love.” - Sage Caesar

“ This world will tell you you're not worth it, you don't deserve the space you fill, but it tells lies, nasty, vile lies that poison your mind with falsehoods.” - Sage Caesar

“ Fight on, fighter, you're worth the struggle, I promise." - Sage Caesar

"I'm the scary story monsters tell their children to keep em in bed. Beware, beware, sinners of the witching hours, the Midnight Dove soars with bloodstained talons, and her prey cackles underneath a bloodstained blade.” - Elsa Todd

“ May those you've harmed whisper your deeds, may you meet me in the dead of night while my pistol is clean and my aim is true.” - Elsa Todd

“ No sinner deserves grace, so don't beg at my feet, it won't fucking save you.” - Elsa Todd

"I don't believe in normal, I don't believe in a concrete definition to humanity. Because we're all unique, in our own beautiful ways. It's ridiculous, to shackle humanity to a definition, we're all our own people, so how could we possibly define what it means to be yourself?” - Hannah

“ I'd rather be an outcast then someone I'm not.” - Hannah

“ Watchin' your own son fall from grace is tough, 'specially when you raised him ta be strong.” - Betsie Werdelstein

“ Her smile ain't like nuthin' I've ever see, I could compare her ta the sun, or a garden'a daisies and daffodils, but she weren't never just somethin' beautiful ta look at.” - Betsie Werdelstein

“ I's seen what it is, ta be so in pain, that all ya can really do is weep and hope fo' a better tomorra', but sometimes that hope is the very bullet that lodges inta your heart.” - Betsie Werdelstein

“ I could present the truth on a silver fucking platter, and people would say, "Oh how marvelous, but we prefer the lies crammed down our throats." - Marston Calinfranz

“ I must ask the question, why do people fear the truth? Lies are often sugarcoated, but dare you follow the sugar crumbs that lead to a poisoned cube of sugar? You're ants, to the powerful, being led to a poisoned demise disguised as your salvation.” - Marston Calinfranz

"They say home is where the heart is. And so my heart resides in a pitch black forest of wolves. They snarl, they howl, but to them, I am the moon.” - Haymitch Viers

“ I sympathize for the devils of this world, everyone seeks to understand them, but must realize, it is impossible. You must become him, to understand him. Walk a a thousand miles in his shoes, and see why it was that he spilt blood as if it were commonplace.” - Haymitch Viers

”A bow and arrow only draws back in preparation to fling forward. So remember, when you’re being pushed back, soon you’ll be hurtling forward at full speed.” - Cynthia Layden

“ We're all our own, beautiful in all of our uniqueness, fuck anyone who says you shouldn't be you, they don't know your mind, or your heart, so how the fuck can they judge you?” - Cynthia Layden

“ We're all our own Queens and Kings, we rule the castle of our mind and sometimes, your thoughts, the subjects, they want to swing you from the gallows, don't let them man, don't let them.” - Cynthia Layden

"In a kill or be killed world, I will never die.” - Gilderoy Vinefroker

“I made friends with my demons, they wouldn't dare bite the hand that feeds them, but to all those around them that left them starving, they have a feast.” - Gilderoy Vinefroker

“ You can not, and will not, fucking kill me.” - Gilderoy Vinefroker

“ This world was never cruel, but I am.” - Gilderoy Vinefroker

“ In life, there are no winners, no losers, just men willing to get to the end, and those who are left on the board to rot." - Gilderoy Vinefroker

“ How am I to grieve what did happen, if I always ponder, on what didn't?” - Jill Smithens

“ This heart of mine is broken, I could glug down gallons of gin an tonic, inject this poison into me, but it'll never heal my heart.” - Jill Smithens

“ I've given so many life changing advice, as a therapist I know the signs, the warnings, and what someone should do in the circumstance their mind is working against them. But if only, I could take my own advice.” - Jill Smithens

“ Ya know, they say the past is just that, but then why is it always engraved in my mind as a hieroglyphic is in a Pharaoh of old's tomb?” - Shirley Honeybadger

“ They say, to slay a monster, you too, must become one, but I believe it wouldn't be sinful if the rabbits fought back against the coyotes.” - Solstice Moone

“ I am a warrior of the sun, bounding in the pawprints of wolves with crimson claws as to follow them to their cave of slaughter, so one day they might be slain for their wickedness.” - Solstice Moone

“ We are not a bloodstained race, but history paints us as such. We waged war to gain independence, and they call us savages.” - Solstice Moone

“ Sometimes we must raise our blades, instead of our voices.” - Solstice Moone

“ I guess life isn't always gonna be perfect, because what would we do with a perfect world but ruin it?” - June Northutt

“ I spose we're all ghosts of who we were, snapshots of younger versions of ourselves, perhaps who we were is proud of who we are.” - June Northutt

“ I took Thituna's beauty and turned it into darkness, Vialdir's gifts and turned them into curses, but hail me! Hail me! I am a stature of greatness and sinful divinity!” - Destallo Starrend

“ This wicked magic, oh how dark it is, I can see it, the black glow in my veins, the dark blood that flows when I am cut in battle. But I care not, I've been corrupted, and my intention is not to turn back.” - Destallo Starrend

“ The night sky flows through my veins and the stars no longer sparkle, for they imploded and left the nebula in my ribcage.” - Destallo Starrend

“ 'Ow am I ever to know peace, if I don't know if my son, knows peace? I'm terrified of the unknown, because I have no clue what it could hold, does it perhaps hold every single truth I need ta know? Is it where my son resides, or is he in a shallow fucking grave?” - Barbara Alastair

“ I guess all I really got are my memories and the spark of a cigarette, only warmth I feel these days, is in my damn lungs, burnin' me alive from the inside. Only light I could ever reach kills me. I'm like the moth, drawn toward the flickers of fires set to burn me, but because I'm self destructive, I follow the sparks and flickers anyhow.” - Barbara Alastair

“ We have to remember, we were given life, so why not appreciate this gift we've got, huh? I'm a fixer upper, we all are, really, workin' with what we got. Our little flaws, our little quirks that make us who we are, always wonderin' if who we are is who we oughta be. But you know what? Build a castle made of of the hurt, and embrace that you survived it man, you survived it.” - Lydia Hobkins

“ This world is cruel, hellbent on breaking this soul of mine in half, but you don't break the woman with her heart on her sleeve, you don't break me, I only learn.” - Allie Jekylhead

“ This world was never meant for cruel men, people like to think we're all beasts, vying for a throne, but we're people, trying to fucking live.” - Allie Jekylhead

“ I am no barking dog, when I bark, it's a fucking warning.” - Allie Jekylhead

"I'm paralyzed by a feelin', cause all I got these days are memories that poison my bloodstream and leave me as the aftermath of Chernobyl. How am I ta be healthy, when even my heart is got damn poisoned?” - Vector Beckenheimer

“ It's hard, fearin' for the life of the woman you love cuz her mind is ill. But I guess, all I can do is fight for her, cuz she ain't never been allowed ta fight for herself.” - Vector Beckenheimer

“ Alcohol is a poison, and I'm in chronic condition these days, sippin' on poison as if it would fucking save me.” - Vector Beckenheimer

“ I'm sorry, for feeling this way. Is it perhaps demented, to be not okay? Am I a woman sinful to the core, because I have demons in my mind?” - Friella Beckenheimer

“ Life doesn't seem to treat me right, and neither does my mind.” - Friella Beckenheimer

“ My children.. I'm sorry. But I'm a bad influence, I smoke cigarettes to choke on the smoke and down pills to spit up my remaining life span.” - Friella Beckenheimer

“ I'm not much a woman, these days. Just a lost ember in the wind, and one of these days I'll snuff out. I'm the dying spark amidst ash, the last shred of a pencil used over the years and the girl no one can save, because I can't even save myself.” - Friella Beckenheimer

“ I bleed forevermore, what a shame it is, that I hold the bloodied razor and the glossy regret." - Friella Beckenheimer

“ This world is out'a fokes, but I can't be.” - Kiley Swinton

“ I've found just how demented this world is, followin' the shadows of the pine and the regrets'a the wolves. I found a cave of sinfulness, the sirens sang and beckoned me ta the ocean side where they drowned my sense of innocence, and out rose a vengeful beast by the name'a Kiley fuckin' Swinton.” - Kiley Swinton

“ Karma is fair, Karma is just, she always pays her fuckin' dues.” - Kiley Swinton

“ The birds hum, the sun rises, just not fo' me.” - Kiley Swinton

“ I used ta rule the world, at least, my own little world I could call home. But some people don't care, they'll rip the walls asunder just to reach your heart and cut it.” - Beverly Jackins

“ I've been broken, but this tiara of rust and this throne of love will never topple. My kingdom of isolation, may one day become a kingdom of two. All I need ta build an empire is my daughter, even if it's one of pillows and blankets draped over cardboard." - Beverly Jackins

“ Broken and damned, they call me. But you'd be telling the truth if you just called me, broken.” - Warren Shanaghost

“ I am a damned man in the eyes of the public, they think I tormented two young girls I knew. I'm damned if I did, damned if I didn't I suppose.” - Warren Shanaghost

“ I saw that shadowy figure, I saw that beast dressed as nothing more than a child's fantasy. What a damned creature, drunk off the light of the moon and sinning just because.” - Warren Shanaghost

“ I've done some dumb shit, sure, but haven't we all? I mean, come on, if we ain't a little wild are we really living? The answer is no, if ya were unaware. You can't just live in the boxes they've created, you gotta burst out of that box and rip it the fuck up.” - Promise Ryder

“ The world isn't against you, honestly, the world doesn't care about any of us, it's the people on Earth that do. So look around, someone loves you, someone cares. Just hold onto the little moments, cause those are the ones that really count.” - Promise Ryder

“ I've watched angels fall from blinding heights, but I went with them on burning wings, I am a circus act, forced into the cold shadows of the night.” - Jenscella Harburkens

“ Those who are different are not loved by society, they'd tie me to a stake and burn me, if they so could.” - Jenscella Harburkens

“ Psycho! They say, psycho! But I'm just a lost girl with haunted memories, why damn me when you could damn my abuser? But no, the story of the boy who cried wolf is always told, but seldom told is the tale of Jenscella, the girl who told the truth, but was never believed.” - Jenscella Harburkens

“ I'm a fool for her, I'd dance underneath a stage collapsing, or hold her hand in a battlefield.” - Zoey Shurrick

“ Just because my memories reflect pain, does not mean that is my future.” - Zoey Shurrick

“ My sister is a superhero, in my eyes. She doesn't shoot lasers from her eyes or wear a cape. She wears a suit she hates and a smile despite her past.” - Zoey Shurrick

"Way over yonder I would'a looked at my torn wings and think, by God, how far have I fallen? But now, I sit here in the tatters of my wings and realize, not every plummet ends with death.” - Connor O’Day

“ My nightmares haunt me, my sins plague me, but my love saved me.” - Connor O’Day

“ She's a soldier, and I'd say she's mine, but I think what's beautiful about her is, she's her own.” - Connor O’Day

“ I used ta be ruled by my trigger and how fast I could pull it, but nowadays, I'm defined by love, not my past, not my future. But love.” - Connor O’Day

“ So sisters, brothers and none of the above in arms, won't you join me, on this journey home? We're all so lost, and yet found by each other. We found sanctuary in each other's hearts and home in the storms of love. We are no beasts, no sinners, no saints. Just men, women and everything in-between, lookin' for a purpose on the wind, knowin' it was always family and each other." - Connor O'Day

"Life is like a painting, it gets a little messy and mistakes are made along the way, but who ever said one wrong sway of the brush ruined the piece? We're not perfect creatures, so why pretend to be?” - Jane Van Steenburg

“ I know these days sinners play as saints, but I find once you learn to differentiate the two, the wolf's smile flickers.” - Jane Van Steenburg

“ I'm a black stallion gallopin' on a path'a cobble and thorns, follow me or don't, but this world need heroes, so lets be the heroes we deserve. I don't got no cape, just my twin revolvers and some rebellious bones.” - Granville Van Steenburg

“ I got my guns, and I got my name, and I've learned that's all it takes ta survive. That and a little bit of hope.” - Granville Van Steenburg

"The sun don't shine on da soldiers, and so we learn ta accept da moon. We twist and turn, twirlin' in da moonlight in an ungraceful dance dat burns us wif' our sins. But ey, sinnin' hurts, but so does bein' da hero.” - Winfield Coleman

“Me bones are wicked, can'tcha see? I'm a cold shadow'a the man I used ta fokin' be, ever since I stepped inta the fires'a war, I knew what it was ta die, mate. You hear the story'a the boy who went ta war whole, but came out strong. But seldom told is the tale'a da soldier who walked out wif' rage in 'is eyes and a snarl on 'is lip. War is Hell, dey say, but Hell is Hell, war is war.” - Winfield Coleman

“ We're all damned nowadays, we're all sinners, and so I took it ta the highest degree. Murder'a the conscience." - Winfield Coleman

"I suppose in a world of mystery, we too are unsolved cases, and we must find who we are and search for the clues inside our hearts.” - Carlita Lorenz

“ I'm always going to stay on this road that leads to nowhere, because with those two women, I don't need a destination, just them. I believe in myself and my loves, and I'll always be a star, shining on if only to light up the night sky, to help the moon in her lovely presence." - Carlita Lorenz

“ I'm on a highway of red lights, a path of broken glass, but why not keep this dance in my stride and pride in my smile?” - Hailey Courtney

“ She's my hero, even if she feels like nothing more than a villain. I love her, she's taught me everything, to be strong, to be me, to laugh and enjoy what I have. She doesn't have a cape, she just has a chipped smile and an old tattered sweater.” - Hailey Courtney

“ I'm always gonna face the world with a smile, because if I can face a nightmare smiling, who can stop me, really?” - Hailey Courtney

"The world's a scary place, and sadly, with me in it, it's even more so.” - Keaton Devoncross

“ I'm both the cat and the dog, chasing my tail and running up a tree in cowardice, I'm not a good man, filled with such sins that they could kill any normal man, he'd jump off a cliff side, knowing what I do.” - Keaton Devoncross

“ I worry about things I shouldn't, always been an anxious child, scared of the world and scared of myself.” - Keaton Devoncross

“ Oh how wicked we are, with our claws of iron and rows of needles that prod our gums.” - Keaton Devoncross

“ We made a mockery of these commandments, thou shalt not kill, so instead we killed the mind. Thou shalt not steal, so instead we stole memories and joy. We are thieves of happiness, we stole the stars and let them blink out.” - Keaton Devoncross

“ We have destroyed the meaning of humanity, because these days we're monsters, tearing into whatever's left.” - Keaton Devoncross

"Step into the ring! You'll find here we all share one very similar trait! We wear sins on our sleeves and scars on our hearts! And here, the only way to find purpose, is to fight for it. You might die in the process, but it is a price you must be willing to pay! You are gladiators and gladiatrix's, fight, fight! Fight or die! Kill or be killed!” - Jorovany Ringmaster

“ I am Jorovany Ringmaster! Sinner of the highest degree! I wear both horns and halos, because too trick the saint, I must act like him.” - Jorovany Ringmaster

“ Blood stains the walls, ghosts fill the halls, and a mad man runs the show! You can not escape the arena, for it's always in your memory.” - Jorovany Ringmaster

“ Always was I born to be a beast of bloodied fang and crimson talon, but my heart does beat for someone, but it does not beat for the fool who dares trample the wolf. Adraina makes me feel such curious things, she protects me and says my damning acts are not so damning. She calls me fallen angel, but damned I am, and if she is by my side, damned is she.” - Maya Van Hunters

“ I do not regret what I have done, it doesn't seem to be in my bloodstream, my family tree is made up of rotten bark and branches with gallows our enemies swing from.” - Maya Van Hunters

“ Living is such a damning act, we were born so cold, so bloody. So it seems I never escaped the cycle of cruelty, and I suppose I never shall.” - Maya Van Hunters

“ As I have seen it, this bloodline ends with me, because I bare no child to continue our sinful ways. The wicked roots of my history shall fester and rot, the world will remember the Van Hunters name as a wicked one filled with sinful desires and love for a singular woman.” - Maya Van Hunters

“ I've hit rock bottom a thousand times, but I suppose all it takes to find the top is to climb.” - Rayford Gold

“ My brothers are good men, Robert and Crawford, stuck by me in my darkest times, it's hard to find people like them, who you can laugh and cry with. Some people love you only when it's light, but the ones who're true, love you even in the night. I have found so much, in this world. Money doesn't buy happiness, only friendship and love can do such a thing.” - Rayford Gold

“ I am not a bad man, just one who's made some bad choices.” - Rayford Gold

“ She saved Crawford's life, but her smile saved mine.” - Rayford Gold

“ Don't you dare damn me without knowin' my broken and hellbent past, vengeance is the only thing that drives me nowadays, I'm a broken creature of broken tusk and dented armor.” - Julie Forkroad

“ I got bullets with their names on it, Tilda, Maya, you best watch out, the monster you created is chargin', and her horns will skewer you, choke you on the blood you've spilt.” - Julie Forkroad

“ This future of mine is bloodstained, because my past is bloodstained. I can't escape all this pain because those ghostly women haunt me, their memory is damning, their existence is frightening. But I suppose, on this damned path, I became a reflection of them.” - Julie Forkroad

“ All I have left is my gun and a few empty prayers.” - Julie Forkroad

"It ain't the hatred spread that's remembered, I've learned. Yes, wicked deeds lay on the pages of history, but it's the actions that rid us of the dark, that lay in our hearts.” - Joyce Huffelsburg

“ I have saved so many little boys and girls from a life of trauma and the high risk of finding them swinging from the end of a rope for the sins of their mothers and fathers.” - Joyce Huffelsburg

“ Help people and put other's above yourself, and people will remember you as a hero, but that was never the point. It was always just to do the right thing, wasn't it?" - Joyce Hufflesburg

“ We're all fighting our own battles, whether they be physical or mental, and we gotta attain victory, or we'll never make it.” - Levanna Scorchton

“ I could make an explosion with a single match and an ocean with a single drop of water. That's just how deeply I love, if I couldn't love, I think I'd be driven to hate.” - Levanna Scorchton

"All the money in the world doesn't make one rich, but love? It'll make you the richest person in the world.” - Moriah Castelonia

“ Words can teach so much, but seldom do people speak them in meaningful ways.” - Moriah Castelonia

“ She was just another homeless woman to the world, but when I saw her, shivering on that street, flecks of snow in her golden hair, I knew I had to do something. Everyone passed her by, but if I had, I never would've been found in such a beautiful dance. She's my golden star, wise and lovely. She's taught me so much, we lived in separate worlds, I grew up with silver platters and everything I thought I needed to be happy, while she grew up with nothing but her hope and grit to carry through. Our worlds collided, and now they're so beautifully intertwined.” - Moriah Castelonia

"The question must be asked, is a church steeple dripping with the blood of the fallen still a holy scene? Or has it been scorched by the devil's flame?” - Father Goriah Thorell

“ If we're all sinful, is it such a stretch to say none of us are forgiven? Either God is forgiving and loving, or he's hateful and unforgiving.” - Father Goriah Thorell

“ There's blood on my Bible and sins sitting on the pew.” - Father Goriah Thorell

“ Such damned, and unholy things we are. Sinning with cause, and without it.” - Father Goriah Thorell

"Super heroes only exist in comics and action movies, the real heroes wear cowboy hats, flannels and are no different from you and me. Anyone can be a hero, all it takes is a little bit of will power.” - Mike Pennington

“ I never expected fatherhood to be pushed on me, so suddenly. But.. when my sister left this world.. I had to take care of her daughter, I had to take care of little Dalia. She's a smart kid, made me really proud, ya know? Some people only want her because she's smart, but I love her because she's goofy and fun, full of spirit and wisdom ain't no one ever see coming. She'll blow you away, man, she really will. With all her snark and love, she's a cute kid, and might I one day find her again.” - Mike Pennington

“ I'm no superhero, just a man who's willing to fight.” - Mike Pennington

"To a rich man, the heart is of little value, but to a poor one, it's all he has.” - Dornstecker

“ I've found New York is rampant with corruption and a darkness so smothering I sputter up the air I breathe.” - Dornstecker

“ You can send your thoughts and prayers to those who died, but it won't change a damn thing, all we can truly do is raise our voices and fight against this injustice. Staying silent to such evil only tolerates it, and I won't stand for it. I am a simple goblin, I clock into the bank at seven thirty, I do my job and hope no poor sod comes in with a gun, I clock out and feed my cat and sleep at nine o'clock sharp.” - Dornstecker

“ I have learned we're all paying the Devil's price and he is no pitch forked wielding entity, he's our politicians and our leaders hiding the blood behind their teeth with a pearly white smile. Despicable wolves, every last one of them. Hiding behind their suits and ties, with their large fancy estates.” - Dornstecker

“ We are many, and so why do we stay silent in the midst of horror? Are we to gobsmacked to do anything? Get over the shock of the situation and do something for God's sake.” - Dornstecker

"I think I need to raise my rifle ta fate and say screw you, you've been an asshole, I'm taking matters inta my own hands. Yeah, shoot fate in the heart, it ain't never been very fond of me anyway." - Church Godsel

"My misery overpowers my joy, these days." - Dale Markus

"I play with fire, but it is not I who burns." - Javier Cross

"I used ta say God is always watching, he's by you, he's by you! But now I sit and ponder, where was he when his son bled?" - Nestor Bevelricks

"We will fight until we are dead and buried, and when we are buried we will be remembered by the one's we call family, because family never forgets, friend." - Titus Hawley

"My regret is deafening, I imagine it's the only thing keeping me from hearing the cries of those I've wronged." - Simon Drogace

"He's a fool to trust me, and his family will pay dearly for his mistake."- Quentin Satchel

"If the truth is a sin, call me holy." - Quentin Satchel

"In a world with men like me peace can't exist." - Elton Seaderfault

"My sins crash on me and bury me underneath the wicked soil of my history." - Sean Gale

"So come on, call me a bad man, call me crazy, but I think, you're the crazy one, because you just pissed off Saul mother fucking Northutt, and your life span, has abruptly been cut short." - Saul Northutt

"I battled my demons, they wore plastic grins, and wielded empty promises." - Saul Northutt

"I'm a bad, bad man, walking through the fires of hell, runnin' through these pages wonderin', when the fuck do I run out of pages to tear the fuck out mercilessly?" - Saul Northutt

"We've taken five hundred steps back in this harsh dance with the darkness." - Alonzo Graves

"You trust a man with your life and you've dug your own grave." - Clayton W. Scarrberry

"Don't mistake your scars for weakness, they built you. Be proud of the strength it took to bare them without turning them on other's." - Rando Ballsy

"If my regret caught up to me vengeance would never be an option." - Dallas Lightsworth

"I see my grave error, I became a monster when my people, and most importantly my daughter needed a man they could look up too." - Bardzimi Talos

"Bob fucking Weathers, well I think that'll look real nice etched onto a tombstone." - Alastair Riseman

"How can God judge me for my sins when his sins can't be fucking counted?" - Roxane Vanderburg

"Do not speak of death as if it has seeped through your rotten skin." - Fandelhimer Bewitchasphere

"The world's filled with killers and vagabonds of Hell, guess I gotta make due with what I got and keep my pistol close." - Espifanio Vanderhoof

"These sins are heavy for those that trust me." - Michael Blomquist

"If I am ta be damned, may I burn Jasper with my fury." - Lileen Nallmorker

"The worst place I've ever resided is my memories." - Lucretia Covington

"Mother, father, forgive me. I never wanted to become a ghost haunting your memory." - Lucretia Covington

"My heart is buried in the pitch black forests in a pinewood box." - Belle Nalroma

"My troubled mind seldom brings me peace. Spose it's a wayfarin' stranger on a desolate road." - Gary Heartlock

"No one sympathizes for the devil it would seem." - Ruby Vollstale

"Revenge is a no man wins game, so here I am, losing." - Cole Milwood

"These sins at my back tell the tale of a lawful man forced to break it." - Aristead Solace

"The world has never favored the man who fights, have you ever noticed it's easier to give up than raise your fists? Easier to stay silent, than speak your mind?" - Timotheus Naziger

"The world cares not for the girl with her ferocious bark and fierce bite. And so the dog learns to become cold just as those who shied away from it." - Abaddon Whilsteila

"Fear never got me anywhere, being feared however did." - Abaddon Whilsteila

"You can not trust the wolf not to devour the lamb. So why put me in a field of peacemakers and expect me to come out without bloodstained hands?" - Caldwell Ramirez

"The world was never in your favor, ask the stars a question and you'll get howls." - Caldwell Ramirez

"The world is bathed in a wicked desire for no other reason than to dominate and conquer. These days we're repeating history and expecting a different result." - Nial Morranann

"Devils ain't wearin' no horns, brother, they got pearly white smiles and share your qualities." - Simon Rossburg

"Cold world we live in, spose all the flowers were kilt and all we're left with is the withered daffodils." - Morton Strawbellow

"Here I am, in a Hell of my own making, cause all I do is hurt myself, and Hell is repeated pain, so here I am, making my life Hell." - Ash Caesar

"People listen to words written on paper as if they were truth, they do not need to see to believe, and so all they'll ever do is ignore the truths that are spoken from the tongues of the people. You can not know truth, if all you breathe in is a lie." - Romanez Callowitz

"My mind is a prison of memories, I've lost hope to see my sunshine again, I begged the world not to take her away, she was my one and only. The star in a night sky that felt dark, but she blinked out, and all I'm left with is a photo album that depicts the memories before my daughter became a snapshot of a memory." - Darlita Romilez

"Chivalry dies when it finds war." - Joe Paquil

"I'm cursed with this never ending affliction to burn for my sins. But I spose a father's duty is to keep on fightin', if only to see his kids grow." - Marrows Redshaw

"Ain't the hate, that made me. But the love and the heart." - Samuel Bones

"I've been chasin' down my dreams since I could walk. Does Justice really think he can twist em into nightmares?" - Rodrick Taywillow

Carry on, they say, carry on. But this storm is not so merciful." - Ebenezer Vanderholt

#writing #author #characterdialogue #books #characterdevelopment #dopestuff #write

6 notes · View notes

iamnotawomanimagod · 4 years

Text

Manic Review - From “Least-Best” to Best

Halsey released her third studio album on 1/17/2020, and it is easily her best. I’ve wanted to talk about it, but first, I need to figure out how I feel about each track in relation to the others. So this is mostly for me, but I’d love to hear how other people are feeling too!

I love all of these songs, I feel so blessed with this album, which is why this goes from “least-best” to “best”, not “worst.”

(I know that’s kind of splitting semantic hairs, but I refuse to disrespect this album, lmao.)

So, without further ado, here are my favorite songs on Manic, starting with the one I like the least:

16 - “Alanis’s Interlude”

This is THE bisexual anthem we’ve all been waiting for from Halsey. It’s cool, sexy, and features some stellar vocals from both Alanis and Halsey. It ranks so low for me only because I’m not a huge fan of the chorus, the machine drums, or the melody, despite loving the message. But the verses are fire, and so are the vocals.

15 - “Still Learning”

I think this track will be a slow-grower for me, the way “Devil in Me” was. Maybe it’s just because it comes on the heels of the deeply, deeply impactful “More” - but I found this didn’t strike the chord I thought it would. It’s a beautiful song, though, and very meaningful to Halsey’s personal journey. I think seeing it live might change my mind about it.

14 - “Finally // beautiful stranger”

This might be the sweetest side of Halsey that we’ve ever seen, especially when it comes to romantic love. The fact that it was inspired by Yungblud makes my heart ache a bit. I really love the duality of the different versions of Ashley in the video. That being said, the genre/style of song isn’t my personal favorite. Her vocals are amazing, though, and some of the lyrics are really poetic. I know this will be an especially tender one live, in front of a Halsey crowd. I can just picture everyone swaying and singing along.

13 - “SUGA’s Interlude”

This interlude is such a soft, sad moment on the album, and it fits really well before “More.” SUGA’s Interlude is all about the way fame has changed both artists, and about how they’ll know when it’s time to step away from the spotlight - and how that might change them. SUGA has excellent flow, and Halsey’s delicate, pining vocals on the chorus is a perfect complement to his introspective rapping. It’s a really sweet song, and part of why it works so well on the album is because it creates such a heartfelt prelude to “More”. The song all about leaving fame behind, followed by the song about loving her unborn child, and how she badly wants to be a mother...gives me chills, man, literal chills. I think I’d like it more if I spoke Korean, but honestly, Korean Halsey fans deserve somethin’ special, so I’m okay with it.

12 - “You should be sad”

I still don’t know if I quite “buy” Y’allsey, but I can’t deny that this is a really fun song. Singing along to the lyrics is so satisfying, and the music video provided us with some serious Looks. The guitar riff between the chorus and the verses makes me feel things, and so does the line: “I’m so glad I never ever had a baby with you,” especially after hearing “More”. I like this song a lot, but compared to the rest of the album, it’s not in my top ten. I think it’ll be a really, really fun one live, though.

11 - “Without Me”

This song and I share a birthday! It’s also where Manic really began, although we had no idea that was the case, at the time. This was the first time Halsey wrote from such a specific and personal place, knowing we would all immediately recognize who the song targeted and why. She’s used this song brilliantly since then, coming up with a dozen different interpretations and set pieces, performing it while chained to a post, while revealing the messages of her cheating ex, while dancing with a beautiful girl, and even more. (It helps a lot that she performed this song with Jade Chynoweth, one of my all-time favorite dancers, and responded to the backlash of that performance by doing it again, but even gayer, just a few weeks later.) We owe a lot to this song. And, as it turns out, it really fits in with the story of Manic, and with the tone, from both a sonic and thematic perspective. I’m still a little tired of it, though, which is why it ranks so low. But - credit where it’s due!

10 - “Dominic’s Interlude”

This one surprised me, although I went in with zero expectations, not knowing who Dominic Fike was. I wish Halsey was actually in this song, but other than that, I think it’s a great interlude. Not to mention: “If you’re looking for signs then you should know, there’s power in the words that you’re thinking.” That’s an incredible line, hit me hard.

9 - “Ashley”

I both love and hate what this song means, because it scares the crap out of me. The way she described it as “a cautious goodbye” in an interview... It’s absolutely a letter to her fans, about Halsey, about who Halsey is, and who Ashley is, and how that balancing act both breaks her and makes her thrive. She can’t keep doing this forever. She knows how much she means to us, and this song is all about how heavy and scary that burden is, but that she’s committed to it, for now. Ending with that line from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was perfect. We’re the ones who shouldn’t assign her our peace of mind, y’know? Her vocals are stunning, though, and I think it’s the strongest opener from any of her albums. This song reminds me of a much less depressing version of “Batter Up” by Brand New, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it influenced her a bit.

8 - “Graveyard”

This song really feels like the older sister of “Without Me”. I love the racing speed of the melody and the rhythm, the way everything is layered so manically and frantically over the verses. It’s actually really easy to get lost in the musicality of this one, even though the lyrics are incredible. I think the music video is my all-time favorite of Halsey’s, because I love all the symbolism in it, and it was really trippy to see her without tattoos. I’ll consider this one a bop for a long, long time.

7 - “clementine”

We’ve had this song for a little while, and it’s been one of my favorites. I was pretty sure it was going to stay that way, even after the album came out, but Halsey surprised me. That being said, I still love the way this song manages to be both playful and petulant, spirited and sad. It has some really beautiful images, and the music video is so pretty.

6 - “I HATE EVERYBODY”

We love a song full of contradictions! This song takes the humor/self-deprecation that started in “Clementine” and “Forever... (is a long time)” and turns it anthemic. The transition from “Dominic’s Interlude” to this song is so perfect, it’s hard not to listen to them one after the other. Halsey once again proves her lyrical prowess and ability to write a relatable bop, which is really what we love her for in the end, right? I love the way the song starts out pretty simply, than swells up into something epic.

5 - “3am”

I love this genre, so much, and I think Halsey completely nails it. This song wouldn’t make anyone bat an eye if you played it in 2007. Most other Halsey songs can’t claim that, and since I’m a sucker for the aughties, this one lives high on my list. It reminds me of P!nk, Avril Lavigne, and Paramore. The lyrics are super relatable, and I love the chorus and the bridge. It’s not the best lyrically, but that bridge honestly makes up for what the rest of the song lacks. Can’t wait to scream that one live! I do wish John Mayer wasn’t rambling on the end, but I also love how that leads into “Without Me”.

4 - “929″

This might sound strange, but I love how this song starts with just Ashley talking; she’s speaking through laughter, challenging her friend playfully. This song feels so real. I love the stream-of-consciousness style of lyrics and the way the melody plays into that. Her voice reminds me so much of early, early Halsey - songs like “Tilt You Back” and “For Ruby”. I can relate so much to some of the things she says, and I love the way it ends. It’s such an interesting contrast to the way her previous albums concluded, too - “Young God” and “Hopeless” are both such epic, sweeping tracks. Ending her most personal album yet with such a tender ode to self-acceptance, and self-discovery, is such a beautiful way to show how much she’s grown, as a person, a songwriter, and a singer. This song makes me nostalgic, proud, happy, just a little sad, and feel so at peace.

3 - “More”

I almost don’t really have words for this song. Knowing Halsey’s story, her very honest and public experiences with infertility and endometriosis, made this song hit me a lot harder than I ever expected. I still can’t quite get through it without crying. It’s an incredibly beautiful song. Painfully, painfully honest, about a topic that’s so rarely openly discussed in pop culture. I don’t even want kids, but the yearning she shows, the hope she still has, the way she says that she’s loved her future child more than anything, and has always loved them; the reference to having already bought baby clothes; the sound of the sonogram machine, and the way it sounds like she’s singing to her baby from outside the womb at the end; it guts me. And again, I don’t want kids. I never expected this kind of honesty or tenderness from her. It’s such a special song, truly. (For the record, I listened to it again to write this and am fully weeping once more.)

2 - “Forever... (is a long time)”

What a surprise this song was! I think it perfectly captures a certain kind of self-destructive behavior that so many of us end up falling into when it comes to relationships. The way the song goes from happy and plucky to this burgeoning feeling of dread, of spiraling down into those dark thoughts that trip all of us up from time to time. It goes from a love song to a break-up song in a matter of seconds, and the transition is spine-tinglingly perfect. The storm building in the background, starting with thunder and dissipating into rain. The way her voice comes back in with the same melody, but minor instead of major. The way the song sort of disintegrates into chaos, and into the realization: “talk to your man...tell him he’s got bad news comin’.” (This is definitely about the Yungblud breakup, right? Nevermind, my heart can’t take that. Gonna pretend I didn’t just realize that.)

1 - “killing boys”

Jennifer’s Body is one of my absolute favorite movies, unironically. I love that Halsey loves it too, enough to include lines from it in the most badass boss bitch song she’s written since “Nightmare”. Her vocals are incredible (those high notes!) - the lyrics are the perfect blend of regretful and rageful - the beat, melodies, and overall composition just fills me up with this impossibly strong sense of “fuck yeah, fuck you.” I don’t have the words to describe how this song makes me feel. I had high hopes, based on the title, and it did not disappoint. This song has some of the cleverest lines on the entire record, and it makes me feel a way that no other song does. That’s what seals it at #1, for me (for now.)

Feel free to reply with yours, or tag me in your own review!! I’m really excited to see some of the more detailed opinions people have, now that the initial “IT’S HERE” hype has started to subside.

stream MANIC by HALSEY today

#manic #manic review #manic era #halsey #ashley frangipane #stephspeaks #ok to reblog #changed some formatting

235 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 2 months

Text

youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

20K notes · View notes

lyricalive · 4 years

Photo

A soul is an electric force, full of potential energy.

——Can we find souls in unlikely places, and set them into motion?

中古技術〜 Electric Spirit Seance

#01 Lullaby of a Deserted Hell

From a bird's-eye view, the figures of two sprightly maidens would appear like dolls amidst the surrounding range of artificial mountains, a stunning silvery wasteland.

The taller of the two small-looking girls, Maribel Hearn (Merry) planted her hands on her hips as she surveyed the junk that encircled them in all directions.

– "I can't believe you managed to convince me to go dumpster-diving. Is this a step up or down from graverobbing?"

– "We didn't rob anything from the graveyard. I definitely want to find something worth taking from here, though."

– "So this is a step down."

– "Nah, it's fine. These are all things that no one wants."

– "Or things that no one wants to be seen. Of course, that means…"

– "It's the perfect place for the Secret Sealing Club!"

The club's current president, Renko Usami, pumped her fist with plenty of good cheer. Merry smiled back, although she had mixed feelings about calling a land of literal garbage home.

– "We can't just have normal dates, can we?"

Fortunately, at least, the garbage was not excessively odorous or grimy. The site was a landfill specifically for electronic waste: frayed wires, boxy television frames, old phone models of all kinds.

The time was just around sunset -- more specifically 7:42 and 33 seconds, according to Renko's discerning eyes. The mild starlight reflected off of broken LCD screens, making them appear ever so slightly less lifeless.

#02 Rigid Paradise

– "What exactly are we looking for... Let me guess. Hoping to find some retro videogames?"

– "I won't lie. That'd be great."

– "But finding both a game and the console to go with it is going to be tough."

– "Did you know, if a company manufactures more games than it can sell, they end up buried underground to get them out of circulation?"

– "How wasteful. At least they were given a proper funeral."

– "The first time this happened was long ago in another country. Thousands of unsold cartridges... Just because they weren't popular at the time, now they'll never be played. I'd love to give them a chance."

– "Hee-hee, so much for a funeral. I suppose we're not in the business of letting the dead rest in peace."

In this unique sort of graveyard, the bodies had been piling up for countless years. Most of the material would never biodegrade, so the mounds kept accumulating, one layer buried under the next. In fact, despite the oceans rising drastically over recent years, this dumping ground remained unusually high above sea level for the sole reason that its foundation was constantly being reinforced by layers of tightly packed waste.

Renko, who had taken the precaution to wear pants and gloves on this excursion, knelt down to examine a mess of circuitry at the bottom of a looser heap. Merry meanwhile nudged the tip of her shoe against the ground, pondering how deep down was the earth.

#03 Poison Body ~ Forsaken Doll

The girl in black and white impatiently murmured the time, for the fourth time that hour, before stretching her back and turning around to check on her partner.

– "Find anything interesting yet, Merry?"

Merry, who had been spacing out for some while, quickly darted her eyes around for an improvised answer. A glint of light led her gaze to a long, flat cell phone teetering unceremoniously atop of a pile.

– "This... Haven't I seen this model in advertisements recently? How did this already become trash?"

– "Oh, you know. Technology becomes out-of-date awfully quickly these days."

– "Mm. I'd like to see it as a sign of progress, but…"

– "Yeah, it's not good at all. We're in an age of quantity over quality."

Manufacturers who design their products to poor standards, so as to improve on them soon after, are akin to the type of trickster youkai that disguises itself in beggars' clothes to take advantage of others' low expectations. In this selfishly self-deprecating society, it had become a disadvantage to show one's best.

– "Everyone knows this, but thinking about it makes me so irritated."

– "Right? Humanity is really holding itself back."

– "On top of that, don't they know that this is how vengeful tsukumogami are born?"

An object that has gone unused for 100 years is believed to develop a consciousness. Some end up harmless -- but if its short life was spent being used as nothing more than throwaway capital, naturally it would make sense for it to become unhappy.

Merry laid one hand gently on the phone, as if in a gesture of sympathy.

– "Hey, be careful not to touch more than you need to. It may look clean, but the chemicals released by e-waste can still be toxic."

– "Ah, right..."

She felt a bit sheepish for needing safety lessons from Renko, of all people. But, having thought too hard about it, it became difficult for Merry to view the objects as just physical material. A great majority of one's life was lived by virtual communication, so this material had great amounts of personal information stored in it. Of course, the information's original source was in people's minds, so it's not as if it would be instantly forgotten once the plug was pulled. But there were certainly more petabytes of raw data in a square meter of this dump than a human brain could hold.

#04 Electric Heritage

– "Come to think of it, though, have you ever actually heard a story about an electronic object becoming a tsukumogami?"

– "Well, no..."

– "I have a theory about that. I don't think e-waste is even capable of that transition."

– "How do you figure?"

– "Consider the crossover of electromagnetic fields and the detection of spirits. Electricity is a simulation of life energy, almost too spot-on. Like forces repel... so true life energy can't coexist with it. Because they're flowing with this imitation power, I don't think electronics get a chance to develop real souls."

– "I see. Then, we can't properly call this a graveyard..."

– "...if these bodies were never truly alive."

– "I can't decide whether that makes me feel relieved, or lonely."

Merry let out an audible sigh against their eerily silent backdrop. Then she braced herself to deliver the next news.

– "But, if that's so... then why can I still feel something spiritual around here?"

Renko's eyes lit up instantly.

– "Do you? I was hoping you'd say that!"

– "It just started... which is odd, since we haven't covered all that much ground since getting here. It's as if a border connecting to somewhere else just opened."

– "That supports the second part of the theory. Like forces repel, but opposite forces attract. They may not have souls themselves, but these empty vessels surely attract souls."

It felt fairly certain, now that both of their minds had helped confirm it: Some spirit, human or non-human, seemed to have decided to take up residence in the wasteland. Merry took a moment to feel proud of herself for her invaluable contribution.

– "By the way, where do robots fit into your theory?"

– "Well... I mean, there's no doubt we're getting closer every day to the A.I. revolution."

– "Oh, my. I knew I should have tipped our e-waiter last time we went to that café."

– "But that's a completely different phenomenon than what births a tsukumogami, right? It has to do with the software, not the hardware."

– "Yes. Though, it would seem to imply that there is a border of 'false' and 'true' life that can be crossed..."

#05 Entrusting This World to Idols ~ Idolatrize World

– "Now all we have to do is narrow it down, and we'll --"

As if on cue, Renko's thoughts were interrupted by a loud crashing sound from behind... music to her thrill-seeking ears. She whirled around to catch the culprit, her eyes fixating on Merry and the dark-colored object that rested a few paces away at her feet. The blonde girl threw her hands up in a display of innocence.

– "I didn't do it. It moved on its own! I just saw it fall out of nowhere."

Renko's attempt at a professional retort failed to conceal her excited, twitching grin.

– "Merry, Merry... This is the most basic of physics. An object can't move on its own! Unless..."

They approached the rectangular object and peered over it. It seemed to be a tablet PC, roughly twenty centimeters in length. It had landed face up, luckily enough to not have not shattered the screen, though there was a significant surface crack down its center.

– "Hm..."

– "We've ruled out tsukumogami. You think it could be... a poltergeist?"

– "I don't know. Rather than an outside force, the energy seems very contained in here."

– "So then... a spirit living inside?"

– "Something like that."

In response, the light of the screen flashed briefly on and back off.

– "Ahh! Electricity, a simulation of life energy..."

– "It also works the other way around!"

This was a very lucky revelation for the two investigators, as it would have been nearly impossible to find a compatible charging cable. In an age where each and every product was developed with its own unique cord design, this feature was marketed to consumers as a collectible game; the infinite variety, a controlled channel for creativity.

The device seemed to call out to them, understanding what they wanted. The power flashed again, on and off and on, in a quirky rhythmical pattern that almost evoked a personality.

– "We've definitely found something worth taking home!"

– "Wait. Isn't it wrong to remove a spirit from the place it's attached to? We can't just adopt a ghost like an abandoned baby."

– "Like you said, it's attached to the item, not the place. We're just fostering it for a bit before it moves on!"

– "All right... Just don't raise it to be wild like you."

– "And you, Merry, make sure you don't spoil it!"

#06 Nostalgic Blood of the East ~ Old World

The pair reached Renko's dorm with the haunted vessel tucked inconspicuously into their satchel, grateful that the spirit hadn't chosen to bind itself to a full desktop monitor or CPU instead. The question moving forward would be how to unlock its secrets.

– "How old do you think it is?"

– "Because it wasn't buried under anything, it seems like we should assume it to be fairly new. But it just feels so out of place."

– "Actually, I meant the spirit."

– "Oh."

Hand in hand with the phenomenon of planned obsolescence, the fashionable aesthetics of electronics changed as often as water under a bridge. Sleek designs were popular, then retro designs, then designs that mimicked the mimicry of two eras past, a vaguely deteriorating cycle. As a result, it was difficult to tell which era this piece of technology belonged to.

– "Remember that I saw a border open? Maybe not just the spirit, but the whole item came from somewhere else..."

They had been scrutinizing the home screen for quite some time, attempting to navigate the ancient interface, and hadn't made much headway. As far as they could tell, the data was heavily corrupted, and most of its history had been erased. They were able to access only the most basic types of apps, like the calculator and the keyboard.

– "Hey, Merry. I think we should use that other thing we picked up."

– "That? I don't even understand how we would use it..."

As evidenced by her smug grin, the more scientifically-minded of the pair had full confidence in the strange idea she was about to suggest.

#07 A Tiny, Tiny Clever Commander

– "I mean, really? A mouse?"

Renko had insisted that they bring home a wired peripheral mouse, which she had spent an extra half hour scavenging for. However, of course, the end of the cable did not match the outlet on the tablet.

Currently, she was back in the scavenging position, digging through the pile of unorganized junk that cluttered her closet (mostly books and occult items). Or rather, it looked unorganized, but she seemed to know exactly where everything was. ...Or rather, Merry concluded, it truly was unorganized, but her eyes were sharp at scanning through even a complete mess. She wondered if this small pile would ever become as large as the one at the dump.

– "A-ha, found it!"

Renko had managed to track down the very particular treasure she was seeking, the final piece of their forgathered puzzle. A small cube with many variously patterned notches rested in her open palm. The material's finishing was uncolored and plain, likely to have been produced independently with a 3D printer rather than as a commercial product.

– "W-Where did you get a thing like that?"

– "I have connections you don't know, Merry."

Merry thought she had heard this line before, and felt a bead of sweat roll down her neck just like the first time. The source was certainly shady. Universal adapters were not at all legal. Treating it like a Rubik's cube, and glancing back and forth for reference, Renko cleverly manipulated the block in her hand in ways that Merry was unable to understand.

Renko's partner, who had long embraced being an accomplice, appreciated her resourcefulness; she only wished to be kept more up to date when the other girl's mental plans ran ten steps ahead. But she supposed that this was how Renko felt in return when it came to supernatural sights that she couldn't see, so perhaps they were even.

– "Just like that? Like magic..."

– "Tell me, Merry. Can you see the border of magic and science?"

With all the pieces aligned, Renko ceremoniously linked the mouse to the tablet through the intermediary box. As a pop-up window indicated the drivers being registered, it was, they determined, a truly magical feat. The light on the screen dimmed a bit, as if the spirit were expressing slight disappointment that it was no longer their only option for a power supply.

– "Still... Better technology has been around for decades. These are so unwieldly. Does anyone use an optical mouse anymore?"

– "No, but no one's done this ritual in a long time either."

#08 No More Going Through Doors

Renko took Merry's hands in her own and conveyed them in a stack atop of the mouse. Holding this pose, Merry squinted at the screen in front of her, which displayed a neatly spaced virtual keyboard with a complete set of lettering. A mild shiver ran through her, either nervousness or excitement.

– "Hang on. This setup looks familiar somehow."

– "That's right. We're having a séance!"

Although Renko was very skilled with computers, hacking was not her expertise. She did, however, have the kind of mind that was able to think around the box, discovering back doors. The opportunity here was simple: If they couldn't reach the secrets, they would consult the only one who knew -- the spirit itself.

– "Huh!?"

– "This mouse is a perfect planchette to use as an interface. Sure, we have voice and touch technology. But you don't want the spirit to possess your actual body in order to touch the screen or activate your voice, do you?"

– "Definitely not. ...Wait, did I ever say I wanted to be the medium at all?"

Merry pulled her hands back from the mouse and saw the screen's light flicker weakly.

– "Oh, er... You're right. We didn't really decide that, did we?"

– "Mm..."

– "I think you'd be better suited, but I'll gladly go first. I've always wanted to try something like this."

Merry's eyes glazed over as she thought about the prospect of communicating with the spirit. They had assumed the sealed entity was harmless enough to bring home, but could there be some risk in directly channeling it?

Then again, what was the other option? To leave their investigation at a dead end?

You don't belong on this side of the unknown.

A faint voice bubbled up inside of Merry, almost like an intrusive thought. This had been happening to her increasingly often lately, though she always forgot about it after the fact. Because, at the same time, they certainly felt like her own feelings...

Maribel Hearn was sparked with a surge of curiosity that made her want to take the lead. These were precisely the club activities she had signed up for. How much more dangerous could it be than anything else, so long as one made sure to follow the protocols and say goodbye at the end?

– "No... I'd like to do it."

Renko blinked in surprise.

– "Really? ...Well, gee, make up your mind. You made me get all excited for myself. Go ahead, but I call next!"

#09 Shoutoku Legend ~ True Administrator

Having cleared the area and turned off all the lights, Merry sat with her back straight against a chair and took a deep breath. No candle was necessary, as the warm glow of the screen cast a ring of illumination around the table. They had thoroughly discussed the questions they desired to ask, though the words felt awkward to speak out loud. Nevertheless, the young medium opened her mouth.

– "What is... your name?"

...

The atmosphere of room was deathly still. Merry let all the muscles in her arm relax, preparing.

...

I...

– "It's working...!"

The spirit was conscious and listening. The planchette began to glide beneath Merry's loose grip, landing on the letter I. When it paused on the letter for several seconds, she clicked the mouse button to confirm before the involuntary movement slowly began again.

...FO RG OT.

– "Ah. So it's going to be up to us to give it a name."

– "Did you own this tablet?"

While Merry was lost in thought about a potential name, Renko chimed in with a question of her own from the opposite side of the table. However, the spirit seemed to hesitate in answering.

Suddenly, the other girl's focus returned. On an instinct, she broke the silence with an unexpected change of the question.

– "Does this tablet own you?"

...

YE S.

– "Huh... The tablet owns the spirit? How did that happen?"

Although Renko's words were more thinking out loud than a direct question, the spirit was responsive. Merry's hand immediately began to move.

...

SN AP.

– "Snap...? That sounds kind of scary."

– "What does that mean?"

The cursor then swerved dramatically past all the letters on the keypad and down to the app menu along the bottom edge of the screen. It hovered over an icon barely recognizable as an antique camera.

– "Ah..."

The app launched, reproducing a dark, blurry image of the table on which the device's lens was turned. Upon clicking the screen, a photograph was taken, and the damaged speaker emitted a distorted snapping sound.

– "Spirit photography!"

The two girls burst out in unison, solving the riddle simultaneously.

– "Right. We've all heard the old belief that getting a photograph taken of you might steal a piece of your soul."

– "It has some basis. If captured in a photograph by accident, a minor spirit's energy might become trapped."

Somewhere in the hidden files, such a photograph must exist, binding some foreign essence to this device. The spirit was likely eager to get free.

Merry minimized the camera app and returned to the keyboard.

– "Who took the picture?"

...

Unlike its own, this name seemed to be one the spirit knew. The pair observed with bated breath as the cursor navigated itself around the maze of letters. Ultimately, it came to a halt, and Merry clicked on the final letter.

– "...Eh? Merry, stop kidding around!"

Merry turned to her partner with a genuine, solemn expression.

– "I'm... not. I swear."

Renko's face went pale. In ink-black font, three familiar syllables stood on display beside a blinking cursor.

#10 Dream World Folklore

To disprove the influence of the ideomotor effect, they had asked the question several more times, using both girls as mediums, until the spirit ultimately stopped responding altogether.

– "Oh, no. We scared it away..."

– "Well, it did spook us first."

– "Renko... You weren't kidding about your connections, were you?"

Renko scratched her head with lingering bewilderment.

– "Is the spirit messing with us? Or could it be..."

Her gaze wandered over to the stream of occult paraphernalia still spilling out of the crack of her closet door, and she experienced a strange sense of longing. The adventurous scientist was heavily accustomed to investigating mysteries from an observational and objective point of view. Finding herself personally a step closer to the subject was a bizarre and almost gut-twisting feeling. She supposed that this was how Merry felt in return when the focus of investigations was on her own powers, so perhaps they were even. Almost.

After a few more sessions of séance, they managed to navigate to an encrypted folder. A full-screen photograph had flashed open... but, before they were able to make out any details, the tablet's power instantly cut off. Following this, it no longer responded to any input.

Their assumption would be that the spirit had been able to cross over, after deleting its digital ties to the physical container and unsealing the information it was attached to.

– "I suppose this is goodbye..."

– "Is the spirit free now?"

– "I think so."

– "That's good for it, at least."

– "Too bad for you. If we kept it, maybe it would have served as your personal shikigami."

– "Isn't that a bit cold-hearted? It was supposed to be our child!"

A shikigami is the perfect phantasmal servant. The owner may input commands, and it carries out orders with extraordinary speed and calculation. Of course, a normal computer already fulfills essentially the same purpose. Outside world humans of the modern era aren't in need of such a spirit under their possession.

Even so, the force of attraction that had drawn them to cross paths with this spirit would be a mystery to chase going forward. The two present members of the Sealing Club had a new story to tell, an urban legend that could be shared only amongst themselves.

Afterwords

Hello, this is someone who absolutely promised themself that they would publish at least one Hifuu fic per calendar year. The idea for this one began with a conversation with my real-life partner (as is usually the case of inspiration) about the excellent aesthetic of using a computer keyboard as a Ouija board. This subject in turn came up because of a "ghost" that haunts her keyboard by making a certain cryptic message appear on the screen at random times because the "." and "0" keys are in an easy position for us to accidentally press. So, this story is dedicated to our precious child, ".0-chan."

Then, while it was already being written, WBaWC came out and confirmed that a technology-themed fic would be totally appropriate, and my favorite song from the soundtrack had the perfect title to be used in it. (Also, its blatant dystopian themes justified playing up the similar themes of the Sealing Club's society even more than usual.) And yet, despite many things lining up, it almost didn't get finished in time. It's been such a busy and stressful year, which I hope gets better next year...

Another source of inspiration was the blog "Yukarisuggestion," whose portrayal I respect a lot. When they drop minor bits of supernatural trivia, it definitely feels like they are coming from the youkai sage herself, very natural to accept. I latched onto these posts in particular, finding the concept fascinating, and I only hope I interpreted it acceptably. ...I was really aiming sharply this time at the Sealing Club's conversational aesthetic of "casual confidence in super obscure things that outside listeners would hear as nonsense," so I'm afraid some parts may have crossed the border of B.S.

Also, I wonder if it's okay that the second half of the song choices are almost entirely bad puns?

ASA (Our ghost child's pen name would be "0.4" / "Rei-ten-shi"!)

Hifuu CD-style stories:

» [Tumblr] [AO3] 自封夢幻〜 Sentimental Reverie

» [Tumblr] [AO3] 陶然夢幻〜 Transcendental Revelry

» [Tumblr] [AO3] 羨望横断〜 Unenviable Crossroads

» [Tumblr] [AO3] 外来土産〜 Adventive Reminiscence

» [Tumblr] [AO3] 中古技術〜 Electric Spirit Seance

» [Tumblr] [AO3] 幻想惑星直列〜 Phantasmal Syzygy

#touhou #maribel hearn #renko usami #renmerry #fanfiction

56 notes · View notes

halycondaze · 4 years

Photo

death, mourning, and femininity in adrestia

trigger warnings: death, superstitions, sexism, victorian germans i mean, adrestians being wild

to start: i have modeled (and borrowed heavily) on the victorian idea of death and the public nature of mourning on the victorian idea of these things. victorian culture has been described as death obsessed, which is where we get the macabre works of artists contemporary to the time. the fall of house usher, the bronte sister’s haunting works, these were influenced and indeed, perhaps spawned by this cultural obsession with death.

the ideal death in victorian culture, as described by mortician c*aitlin d*oughty, was to “[meet] eternity with eyes open, bravely facing god and judgement, thought provoking last words of wisdom poised on their lips,” and “was the hope and goal of every person.” 1 she then later goes on to explain that the process associated with “victorian mourning” would have really only been practiced in higher class / upper levels of society.

therefor, the same will be true throughout this headcanon. these are the truths for upper society, the nobles and, given fódlan’s strict social hierarchy, mainly available to those born into crest bearing families. however, much like fashion trends, what is considered standard by the upper echelon is often seen as aspirational by those below them. after all, appearance is the way the world perceives you, and if you can make the world perceive you as higher than your actual standing, you have the chance (the smallest, slightest chance) of achieving said place. respect can get you into a lot of places.

especially in death. death is that last chance to be seen as respected, especially as unclaimed bodies in victorian times were often used for medical study.... and, given the canonical banning of autopsies 2 done by rhea, this probably, paradoxically, becomes more of a worry. the lack of official ways to study a body and doctors desperately needing to understand why people are dying might turn to stealing unclaimed corpses. and even if there aren’t surreptitious autopsies, unclaimed bodies would have had their teeth pulled to make dentures, were the teeth in good shape.

if you’ve got even one family member, or a close friend, or simply a presence in a community, in adrestia, you’re buried and publicly mourned. it’s respect, it’s dignity, it’s about eternity. it is also, yes, a safety net, and, if someone is an unburied, unclaimed person, it’s a condemnation. and yes, this does happen more to immigrants, women, and the poor than it would to men, those born in fódlan, or the rich. unless you were truly despised by your own family, a rich man was getting buried.

unlike the victorians, however, embalming doesn’t really catch on in adrestia. the use of harsh, poisonous chemicals is seen as desecrating the body, which should be treated as gently as you would treat a living person. there are three expected processes for death in adrestia, and they depend on where the person dies: at home, out of the home in a civilian setting, or at war.

when someone dies at home, it is expected that their family members / those they live with will record the time of death, either generally using the position of the sun/moon, or if they own / are near a sundial, will use that instead. then, all mirrors are covered with sheets or turned down, to prevent the soul from getting lost on their way to the afterlife. a black wreath will be hung on the door so anyone coming to visit will know to knock softly. 1

afterwards, it is expected to keep the body in the home, as preparations for the wake and funeral begin. the woman of the house, or a close female friend, is expected to prepare the body. they will wrap a gentle cloth around the mouth and close the deceased’s eyes with cotton pads, so they have a reserved countenance at the wake. then they will be washed, again gently, from underneath a sheet, to preserve dignity. the cloths used are burned. 1 3

from there, the deceased will be dressed, usually in their burial shroud, which the deceased would have already had, or if they did not have one, then they would simply be buried in their sunday best. while the ladies of the house prepare the body, the man (or, a male family friend) would go and fetch a casket for the burial and wake. upon return, the body would be moved into the casket. from then on, no more preparations or changes are made to the body, except for the use of ice magic to slow decay. this is the only form of preservation allowed in adrestia.

after, letters are sent out, sealed with black wax and if the person is rich enough, on papers prepared for their death with small copies of a portrait of them. the wake lasts about five days, no longer than seven. one cannot show up at a funeral uninvited. that is considered beyond preposterous, and if you did not get an invitation, you could politely send a letter to the deceased’s family / caretakers to request to show up.

the funeral itself is very familiar to one who grew up in the american tradition - people in black (or muted colors, see below) with their heads held down, crying and talking about their virtues. they will have a procession to the graveyard, taking as convoluted a route as possible, to prevent the spirit from simply following the family home. afterwards, they return for refreshments, usually sweets, and people will talk for a few hours and return home.

for someone who died outside the household, the police must examine the body visually to make sure they did not die due to murder, but the rest plays out namely the same once they’re brought home. they’re washed and treated with care, and eventually brought to a graveyard.

someone who died in battle is buried differently. they rarely have a body, and if they do, then it will proceed as above. however, if they do not, it expected for their chosen burial shroud or sunday best to be buried in their place, and the expected mourning period is elongated by a month, due to the lack of the body to bury.

mourning (+femininity)

now, as with actual victorian mourning, there are a lot of rules. particularly for women. so let’s roll back and place the role of women in fódlan over all:

the expectation of noble women in fódlan, is to get married and produce children who bear crests. however, this also places them as the center of the household no matter where you go. rarely is one married for love, particularly in this higher society. however, adrestia has a very large performance aspect. and of course, this expected more of women than it is of men.

for instance, an adrestian widow is expected to be in full mourning for a year, but a widower is only expected to mourn six months. after all, a widower must find another wife to continue to produce heirs, and hasn’t the time to be in full mourning. after the full mourning period, it is expected for the widow/er to be in half mourning for a few months after, but again, men are given far less scrutiny. 1 3

full mourning entails: all black dress, thick black veils, and for men, a specific kind of mourning coat. as said, these are in all black, and sometimes it is expected to have a piece of cameo jewelry, (made with the deceased’s hair) or a handkerchief on the person at all time. it is considered uncouth to go out into society during full mourning. 3

half mourning entails: muted colors (grey, lilac, navy) but in the typical, day to day style. the silhouette tends to change once a decade. one may socialize as expected of your station, but you are expected to never show intense happiness or joy if you are in half mourning. 3

servants of the household where a death occurred are expected to wear a black band around their arm until the grieving family is out of mourning. 3

there are, of course, other rituals and superstitions. copied verbatim from the source below / taken from the first source, they are: 1 3

one must cover all mirrors in the house when someone has died, because the spirit will get lost. it is bad luck to meet a funeral procession head on. If you see one approaching, turn around. If this is unavoidable, hold on to a button until the funeral cortege passes. if you hear a clap of thunder following a burial it indicates that the soul of the departed has reached heaven. if you don’t hold your breath while going by a graveyard, you will not be buried after your death. if the deceased has lived a good life, flowers would bloom on his grave; but if he has been evil, only weeds would grow.

femininity, part two

as i alluded to above, the care taking of a corpse is coded feminine, in both victorian life, and adrestian culture. in fact, young girls are given “death kits” and expected to train to understand how to properly prepare a body, and understand why such things are done. 4 while no one seems to consider the effects of this kind of culture on the girls, it is a standard way of raising them that prepares them to be the face of a noble household.

this leads to a very interesting form of femininity. as women in fódlan are allowed to be warriors as well (though really, only in adrestia and the alliance) there is very little expectation for a woman to be squeamish about... anything. women caretake bodies and they are trained to kill, if they’re lucky enough to go to school. however, there is also always the expectation that a noble daughter - and a poor daughter - will marry a man, hopefully above her station, to elevate the family’s status and produce heirs with a crest. and many women - namely in the holy kingdom - will actually turn to becoming nuns to avoid this fate. and if they don’t, then they run away from home, or hole themselves up to be considered unmarriageable or tear at yellow wallpapers as they slowly grab for freedom.

to be raised in this culture is to become aware of mortality so early on, particularly for young girls, and to become either hardened to it, or more sensitive to death. the four girls we see from adrestia (edelgard, dorothea, bernadetta, and mercedes) reflect this well. they were all raised with this pressure of being the face of a future household, and have become almost perfectly poised to never be that face - the newest generation of adrestian girls is like this. they are girls ready to overthrow the system, from one point of view or another - girls who know how to kill and are ready to stop the system’s breath.

and even if they’re not, they still grew up finding tiny porcelain corpses in cakes, the unavoidable hand of death. 5

SOURCES:

1. we recreated a victorian funeral 2. screenshots from the fe/3h dlc 3. the rules and regulations of mourning in the victorian era 4. victorian death dolls 5. happy birthday, there’s a corpse in your cake!

#☆ﾟ*・ﾟand the ghost lights go out — ↳ meta.

13 notes · View notes

sartorialatlantan · 4 years

Text

Silver Lining and A Brief Backstory

Whether you’re an optimist or not, anyone, even if only in hindsight, can see the silver lining of a bad situation, circumstance or series of events. When I was 20 years old I ended a three-year relationship with my first serious girlfriend. We had met at 17 or so and it was your classic teenage love story. We were young and foolish and led by a shared faith in evangelical Christianity that I would eventually and happily abandon. We had convinced each other and ourselves that it was ordained by god that we came together and that when the time was right we would get married. To add insult to injury we told nearly everyone we knew about our plans at all of 18 years old, so naturally the sting of embarrassment came with the sting of separation. I don’t need to, nor do I care to go into details of our breakup or what brought it about, but this tiny bit of back-story is crucial to understand the silver lining that would follow. Now that I’m saying it out loud, to call what followed a silver lining doesn’t even really cut the mustard, what followed was the absolute best thing that’s ever happened to me.

It’s safe to assume that anyone reading this has been through a breakup, maybe even safe to assume a bad one or two. We all know how down in the dumps, miserable and depressed and isolated and totally alone you feel when you separate from someone you were literally saying, “I love you” to not one day ago. It’s an awful place to be, whether you’re 20 or 35 or 50 etc. it’s just plain awful. And I imagine it’s existentially worse the older you get because of the looming fear that you’ll be too old to meet someone else before the clock stops. While that may be true at 78, the irrational brain of an 18 or 20 year old will tell them the same thing. So in the wake of my adolescent breakup I drank, a lot. I took up smoking and heavy drinking and gave up on the idea of partnering with someone ever again. Some of this ridiculous thinking goes back to the Christian thing, and apologies now if you take offense so some of what I say about that faith. When you’re 20, and for the last 3-4 to years you not only thought, but believed at your bible thumping core that you were paired with someone else by gods own hand and it ends, well to put it plainly you A. start doubting that there even is a god or B. find it impossible to understand why god would start something and end it. Now in hindsight, it’s really a mixture of A and B and I also now realize that if god is real, his most famous creation to date (us) has a beginning and an ending. It’s also very easy to religiously rationalize everything to fit your made up narrative, kind of like biblically cherry picking in reverse.

I’m not going to go into my exiting the church and Christian faith altogether, that would be too far removed from the topic at hand, but I will say that when I left it, and truly let go of it mentally, it was the most calming and freeing feeling I had had at that point. All it took was squarely asking myself, practically in a mirror, “do your really believe in this, do you REALLY believe in ANY of this?” When I answered “no” I felt a combination of grief and relief; on the one hand I was letting go of what had been the norm to that point and on the other I was free from what rabbi’s refer too as “a wrestling match with god”, and that freedom felt better than any made-up wave of holy spirit baptism ever had. Bottom line, if you’re an evangelical and truly believe that you have a private, gibberish love language with god, don’t mock what the Mormons believe, it’s just as ridiculous. I knew too many Christians in those days who couldn’t see that irony. Some still can’t.

Now back to the story. There I was broken hearted and feeling like life was over at 20, it was time to grow a beard and become a wandering nomad. Maybe I’ll get a motorcycle and seek out an outlaw gang and just ride til' I die. Maybe I’ll head up the east coast and get a job on a boat out of New England. Really all of my ideas involved my look first, and occupation second. Anything involving hand tattoos and a long matted beard would’ve sufficed. But then, some time passed and I would eventually turn 21, which opened up a whole new world, the bar scene. Now, still in the throws of depression, single and not loving it, I proceeded to the bar scene with a new drinking friend named Will in the East Atlanta Village. We drank and socialized all over the village, almost every night too, to excess. We were not, living, laughing or loving as the girls touting faux happiness, post break-up say in their Facebook statuses. There was the Graveyard Tavern, a very large dive bar with something akin to a dance floor and a pool table area. Then the Glenwood that at the time had a horror/cult movie theme down to movie posters laminated under the tabletops. There was My Sisters Room and Mary’s, a lesbian bar and gay bar, separated by a side street and Grant Park Pizza. Then you came to the 5 Spot, which was a dive bar and punk music venue, then across the street from there was the Flatiron, which was the shape you’re picturing. It sat below 13 Roses Tattoo, which for that era in my opinion was the best shop in town. If you took a hard left from there you could walk up to The Earl, a dive bar with pretty damn good food and a solid standing room only music venue in back. And lastly across from there was The East Side Lounge, the perfect spot if you wanted to do cocaine while watching Predator 2 on the TV over the bar. I never did cocaine, but everyone in town knew that’s where you went to score some, or to watch Predator 2 while drinking $2 PBR on draught.

This little village was our spot for nearly a full calendar year, Will and I rarely took anyone else along, because no on else was as equally miserable as us and who needs positive company when you’re binging cheap beer pitchers and smoking a whole pack of cigarettes in one night? Now, to be clear, it was always to the two of us but we were making the attempt, occasionally, to meet women. 20 something, tattooed, smoking, drinking, most likely cocaine doing, women who were 100% not interested; we were suburb boys and you could practically smell it on us, and these were city chicks, with sleeve tattoos, hidden piercings and a palpable hate for their fathers. Maybe I’m adding that last part for effect, but you get the idea. Now that said, in that time span I did manage to meet and get to know a girl or two, I think Will did too but nothing ever really stuck.

Now I’m going to back up, but keep in mind this was all happening by night, most nights of the week, but by day I was still working at the same place I am now, didn’t love it then still not crazy about it today, but that’s a whole other topic. Some days after work, before Will and I would venture to East Atlanta I would go meet up with this piano player I had been introduced to by a former band mate who needed a guitar player capable of on-the-fly melodic riffs to accent his songs. In the band I had been in before, that was literally all I did, so we were a good fit. He would play his latest song for me a few times through headphones and then I’d start “noodling” as they say until I landed on some solid melodic hooks to overlay on what he had already recorded. We had a solid system, and he paid me in pizza and beer and we could smoke cigarettes in the studio. Just for a brief tangent, you have to smoke inside in these situations. If you and your fellow musicians are trying to accomplish something in the studio, but you’re walking outside every 20 minutes to have a dart you’ll never get anything done. So I would listen and noodle and drink and smoke and eventually eat. Once I tapped into a riff he liked we’d build on it together, shape it, shorten it, lengthen it, whatever it needed, then we’d lay it down and repeat. This was a regular thing for me a couple times a week. It went like this, get up, go to work, leave, go home grab my gear, head to the garage studio, record, smoke, eat, drink, leave, drop off the gear, grab Will, and be in the Village by 10pm or so. Then we’d stay til' last call, go home, shower, sleep, wake up, repeat. If you’re doing the math, yes I was driving most of the time, it was stupid and reckless and I’m not proud of it and it was over a decade ago lets just leave it at that and drop it. There’s no one to make amends to for anything from those days, other than a few girls that I probably drunkenly intimidated buy hitting on them too much. Anyways, this was the pattern for the better part of 20 to 21. Now, cut back to my Jesus-y girlfriend from the beginning of the story. To the best of my knowledge she was off in a new circle of friends, living and laughing and loving and meeting new people and I knew for a fact she was dating around. Through this new circle of friends she would eventually meet Kristen, and if you know me, then you know my wife’s name is Kristen, yes the very same Kristen. Kristen was 26 at the time, recently divorced from a total dipshit, we’ll leave it at that, and she too was socializing with a new circle of friends.

To help you keep up with the wild web of who begat who, at this point in time, if I hadn’t separated with my girlfriend when I did a year prior, she wouldn’t have started dating who she did and met the string of people who would eventually introduce her to Kristen, my wife today. Now, for her privacy I won’t name my high school girlfriend so for the story we’ll call her Jane. Jane and Kristen and a large circle of churchy band kids all became friends, though only briefly. Kristen being newly single was introduced to some guys via this circle and Jane specifically introduced her to guy named Steven, possibly to date, though I don’t think they ever did. That said, Kristen and Steven formed a friendship and Kristen soon after parted ways with Jane and the churchy band kids because they were all just A. a little too Jesus-y and B. more than immature to say the least. Now I was peripherally aware of a lot of this via Facebook, doing the creepy ex thing. I didn’t know Kristen, but I had seen her in some photos and she had a killer Audrey Hepburn ribcage tattoo, still does obviously.

So, Kristen and Steven are friendly and attend some of the same bars and house parties and she’s out in the world dating and doing her thing. Kristen would eventually meet Steven’s newest girlfriend, Amy. Amy and Kristen became fast friends and were practically joined at the hip. Kristen and Amy were partying, dive bar hopping, nightclub dancing best friends. Meanwhile, just to take you back to my reality at the same time, I was grumpy binge drinking with Will somewhere in the East Atlanta Village. Now, here’s where it gets fun. Amy has a brother named Chad, who at that time was in a band, Chad worked at a little café/bar with a certain piano player, yes, you guessed it, the one I was working with that year. Now through this maze of people Kristen would eventually meet the same piano player and it would be an understatment to say she was into him. One night I’m in the studio with him and we’re sort of half working, half chatting and he starts telling me about this girl he’s kind of seeing and her Audrey Hepburn tattoo. It was one of those small world funny moments, because I knew who he was talking about from my Facebook stalking, and I knew she was hot, no naturally I was envious. Some time later, he would invite me and Will and Kristen and Amy to watch a band play at the previously mentioned Earl in the East Atlanta Village, I knew it well. This is where I would meet Kristen and where our relationship would ultimately begin. I could write another 6 dozen paragraphs on our early dating relationship and how it all went and maybe I will at some point, but the point of this very long-winded essay is about the silver linings of a bad situation. Now to call this love story and how I would eventually meet my wife that I would have two beautiful and amazing daughters with a silver lining to a high school breakup would be borderline insulting. But realize, at 21, now nearly 22, I was still miserable and alone and thought I would be forever. Then along comes Kristen. Now to recap, I split with Jane, became a miserable person while Kristen was divorcing her first husband from college that she really only married to piss off her parents. Kristen would eventually meet Jane, who would introduce her to Steven, who introduced her to Amy who introduced her to the piano player, who she was infatuated with for a brief moment, who introduced her to me. We’re separated by 6 years in terms of age, come from completely different backgrounds and other than this small cluster of people, had no one in common between us. In a very long-winded, round about way, I owe my heartbreaking high school girlfriend a thank you. I had to experience a terrible breakup, the kind where you don’t ever talk again, go through a shitty, drunken, depressing year and ultimately give up on having any semblance of a happy life to meet my wife, and everything changed after that. I didn’t go to college, I had a small circle of friends and most of them avoided the city. It took this wild culmination of events and people I’ve never met to bring Kristen and I together.

You might be saying that story’s not all that compelling, things like that happen all the time, and you’re not entirely wrong, but that said, I still think there’s something special about it.

The year 2020 has shown me a lot about myself. Once quarantine started I quickly learned how unimportant clothes were. Take a moment to catch your breath. I still love tailoring and will absolutely wear dress clothes again, but when you’re staring down a pandemic, drape and tie space just become less of a concern and are quickly replaced with stocking up of frozen goods and day drinking. I’ve spent the majority of 2020 in Vans and golf polo’s, and I don’t hate it. In this time I’ve found a new passion for the game of golf, I’ve cooked new things, in the early days of lock down I got creative with my photography in ways that wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been home all day. I don’t think any of us knows when this nonsense will be over, 2020 might be entirely wrapped in Covid and it might even bleed into 2021, and by then, most of the world might’ve had it. I know that I don’t want it, and if I am to get it I hope to the god I don’t believe in that it’s mild.

When your 6 year old asks if you’re going to be alive when they’re a grown up in the middle of a pandemic it stings, because the reality is I can’t promise her I’ll be alive tomorrow, let alone 20 years from now, so I lie. And when you lie like that to a child you lie big, I tell her I’ll always be alive, that way we snuff out all worry in her little 6-year-old mind, because those wheels are constantly turning. I was burdened with the reality of death at 4 years old, seeing my 19-year-old cousin dead in a coffin after a motorcycle accident. I will shield the reality of death from my kids as long as possible. Life’s stressful enough already, no reason to start the trauma early. I blame that funeral at 4 almost entirely on my hypochondria. I’m that guy, who feels a leg pain and assumes it’s a blood clot bound for my heart. A pain or weird feeling in my side must be cancer. Naturally the rise of Covid has not been kind to this sick part of my brain. As I write I feel funny, the way you feel when you sleep too long and your limbs feel numb, I’m also hoarse from over doing it with a vaporizer recently trying to relax with a little THC. So naturally the weird feelings and throat tickle are Covid in my mind. If you don’t have anxiety, count yourself lucky.

The thing I keep trying to remind myself of is that it won’t last forever. Time literally fixes everything. It took time to get over being broken up with at 20 and even more time for the stars to align and bring Kristen and I together. It will take time for Covid to sweep the world and end and time further still for the powers that be to develop a safe vaccine. It will take time for society to feel comfortable going out mask-less again; it will take time for supermarkets to feel safe enough to take down all the plexi-glass at the checkout. It will all take time and in the end, if we’re lucky, we’ll see the silver linings that came out of it. New interests, new jobs, new relationships, etc. If I hadn’t found my passion for menswear I would not have eventually reignited my passion for photography. If the quarantine hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have done all the self-portraits I did that ultimately inspired a Hunter S. Thompson theme that lead to my newfound love and interest in golf. The new interest in golf led to new ways to spend time and bond with my in laws and my own family. It’s also the first form of physical activity I’ve done in nearly a decade; all good things.

The only thing I’ve never really been able to draw a connect-the-dots of positively around is my job. I’ve done the same thing for 13 years and I’ve never liked it. It has afforded me the opportunity to do things at times, and the schedule has always been flexible around my personally needs, but I’ve never really liked being here. As I write I’m sitting in an office that I’d rather not be in. If I were single and not a parent I would've left long ago. But the stability of this place and the paycheck keep me here. I’d much rather be taking photos for brands, submitting to publications etc. but there’s way to much financial risk in that. The time for that kind of seat-of-your-pants living is in your 20’s, when you’re a renter with no kids. If I could take photos, write, travel, golf, eat and drink for a living you‘d never hear a complaint. Kristen and I often talk about what we’d do with millions to distract ourselves from what we don’t have, and the stress of the day. She works in a very unforgiving retail environment, more unforgiving now with a pandemic on the rise again in our state. I work in print, for my father. A dying industry with a parent as my superior, what could possibly go wrong? We get along 9 days out of 10, but day 10 is always noteworthy. We bend over backwards for our customers, though I don’ think they care. We once had a 20 years long client say they were thinking about switching to another printer, just to shake things up. This after 20 years of late shifts, miracle timing and total and complete ass kissing. That day I learned, that quality service only matters to a select few, the rest just want to see the bill.

So that’s 2020 so far, new interests popping up, old interests taking a back seat, looking to the past to see the greatness that came out of dark times, hoping the future is as bright as today is, compared to the depths of despair I found myself in at 20. Still thinking there is no god but hopeful for an afterlife of some kind, wondering if there is a god why he’s letting old people who literally hang his picture in their dining rooms suffocate from a wet market virus that our leadership dubbed a hoax in the beginning…I will not go on a political tangent... By the time 2020 wraps I hope to be alive and well, I hope that everyone I know is alive and well too. I hope that Kristen finally lands herself a job in UX, she graduated from her UX academy in March and so naturally the job market has been slim pickings. Beyond that, I hope to find myself doing something other than what I do now at some point. When I dwell for too long about how many hours of my life I’ve spent folding booklets for people who are ultimately going to throw them away I feel myself reaching for the bottle. Bottom line, things aren’t great now, but I hope they get better. The funny thing about that is, according to Buddhists, it’s the act of wanting something, which causes suffering in the first place. So maybe the answer for the shit storm we’re all in today lie’s in the Buddhist teachings. I’m not about to proselytize Buddhism, but what I do know is the first truth as they call it is basically, that “suffering exists” and the second truth is that “desires and ignorance cause the suffering”. So it could be a major over simplification for our current state of affairs, but maybe if we stop wanting a better today and just accept today for what it is, we’ll all suffer a little less. Because whether we’re here for it or not, the sun will rise again and set again. The earth will turn and everything that is happening today will happen again tomorrow. Time fixes everything, and we can’t control it. So pray, meditate, work, golf or buy a motorcycle and head to the nearest New England port and join a boat crew, there’s no telling what kind of crazy we’re all going to wake up to from one day to the next, so to end on a cliché, make the most of today and try focus on the positive, maybe the stars will align and when it all shakes loose, you’ll meet your Kristen.

1 note · View note

somedayonbroadway · 4 years

Text

A Newsie Carol Come The Future You’ll Remember Me

Hello again and welcome to...

THE FUTURE!

The world froze. Joseph held his breath, unsure of what to expect.

He waited.

Nothing.

He breathed out, cautiously looking around, terrified to move. Something would surely jump at him and scream at him for doing something wrong.

He wouldn’t stop them. He would welcome the criticism. That is what scared him the most.

Seconds ticked by slowly as the man waited, his body growing colder and colder as the moments drug by. He didn’t see the world around him change. Not until the fog rose up, covering his head as he rest on his knees.

He looked up, shocked by the sudden change of scenery for a moment. He stood cautiously, wondering where on earth he’d been taken this time, praying that it would be something different, something that put his rare smile back on his face.

He’d forgotten what it had been like to be so carefree. To just smile. To care.

The hopes of any more of that were dashed immediately when he let himself focus on the darkened place that surrounded him. He was among death. And he couldn’t get away from it.

Standing amongst a large graveyard, the old man pulled his pajamas tighter around himself. It was freezing. He surveyed the area, unsure of what he would see or what he was supposed to see.

That is, until he turned to find a hooded figure standing just before him, head bowed and cane in hand. It was a dark, ominous creature, covered by a cloak from head to toe. He gasped at the sudden sight, taking a single startled, step backwards. It didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood simply in silence, waiting.

So Joseph took in a shaky breath. “Am I in the presence of the Spirit of Christmas Yet To Be?” The spirit nodded solemnly. But Pulitzer cocked his head, something in his mind clicking. “You... you’re the-“

The spirit was quick. In one swift motion, their cane lifted up into the air before cracking down on the ground. The world didn’t spin, but within an instant the graveyard was gone, replaced with the streets of a city he’d used to know so well.

He was in Manhattan. The streets of Manhattan. And somehow, everything looked so different.

“Spirit, show me what you must... please...” he begged. “I know your purpose is to do me good.” He did. Even if he hadn’t first known that this night would be one that changed everything he thought he knew.

With a shaken hand, the spirit lifted its arm, an old, ungloved hand pointing in the direction of something behind the man. Taking a slow breath, he nodded and turned to the sight that must somehow be important.

He didn’t like what he saw.

“Hannah?” he called quietly, watching as his secretary sat outside on the freezing streets in absolute silence. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak, she stared just ahead, her eyes wide, as if she’d seen a ghost. People passed her by, paying her no mind at all as she pulled her knees to her chest.

Men walked passed her with a stretcher. There was a body on it, one covered with a sheet, like he might’ve seen in a television show sometimes. Someone had died.

“Spirit, who is this? Who’s died?” he asked turning back to the cloaked figure. The head beneath that hood tilted slowly to the side, as if it was confused.

But Pulitzer looked back up at the woman sitting on the curb. He watched as someone approached her. “You called?” They asked. They wore hoods. He couldn’t see their faces. But she pointed up behind her into the vaguely familiar building she sat outside.

“Take what you want...” she decided, standing to her feet, looking sick to her stomach. “Take it all...” She took a key out of her pocket, tossing it to them as she began walking away. One of the three caught it easily. “I expect cash in full, in the morning, for all of it...”

And then she stumbled on down the street, looking straight ahead, not once even making any kind of effort to turn back.

There was no more need.

“What is this?” Pulitzer asked quietly, turning back to his guide to the future.

The figure was still dark, but there was a certain light to it. Not one that made Joseph feel safer or warmer, no. This light was more that of an informative one. One that was meant to teach. One that Joseph had the strange urge to wholeheartedly learn from.

The cloaked figure stood in the middle of the street, so simply still it was agonizing.

Until the hand that gripped onto a jagged cane fell to the ground. The the figure stood up straighter, seeming to grow three feet. The old man had to look up at it as it waved its large hands around, causing chaos to arise around them. Chaos of the past and the present, voices that the man knew and used to know and places he would’ve never admitted he missed seeing.

It swirled around him, almost mocking him, flashing in his face over and over again.

Then, everything was quiet. Something was beeping. The whole world was dark. There was a sadness in the air when Pulitzer found himself transported back into a familiar hospital room, looking out the window of the door to the hallway and finding Jack Kelly standing outside, tears streaming freely down his face as the nurse, David, sadly shook his head.

Joseph’s heart dropped as he turned around. The cloaked figure stood next to the bed, watching over the child who still lie there, supposedly a year older, but looking smaller and weaker than ever.

The small beep of the machine beside him was slow and getting slower by the second. His chest was barely rising as every gasp he took in was more a wheeze than a breath. Pulitzer couldn’t breath either.

He turned, hardly able to stay and watch what would inevitably happen next. Instead, he walked through that door effortlessly, knowing he was no longer solid.

“Is he in pain?” Jack asked with a tight sob, trying so hard not to break.

The nurse shook his head. He had tears in his eyes too. “No... he’s not...” he promised, holding back sobs himself. “What do you wanna do?”

Almost without truly thinking about it, Jack let out another small sob. “I wanna hold him,” he stated, pushing past the other man and walking right through Pulitzer who shook his head in disbelief and followed the sad young man into the dimmed hospital room.

“Spirit... please, show me something else,” Joseph begged.

The spirit only tilted its head beneath its dark cloak, as if it was confused at the request. The scene did not change. Pulitzer was forced to watch Jack desperately shake his little brother away. “Baby... baby, open your eyes... please?” he whispered, already gathering the child up in his arms, even before David even finished unhooking him from the machines.

The machines that were no longer making a difference.

“Spirit, show me no more!” Joseph cried, his throat tightening as those blue eyes hardly even slid open.

“J’ck?” the child breathed weakly, curling loosely against his big brother’s chest. “JJ...?”

“Yeah, baby... yeah, wake up f’r a minute, okay?” the young man asked as he was able to cradle the small child after all the wires and tubes were taken away.

“‘m I goin’ home?” the child asked, his voice weak, but hopeful, almost as if he truly believed that was what was happening.

But Jack shook his head head, letting out another sob. “No! No, we’re goin’ ta Santa Fe! We’re goin’ ta ride the horses n’ run through the fields n’-“ he was holding fast to that small boy who was clueless to the situation.

“n’ I-I g-get ta b-be outside...” the child’s voice was like the wind. Pulitzer tried to reach out for him, to try and help, to do something to fix this.

Jack nodded vigorously. “Yeah! Yeah... no more bed... I’ll be there every night n’ we can make s’mores and sit around the fire n’ tell stories n’ everythin’ will be just fine...” he promised, even more tears coming to his eyes, even as he tried to smile through them. He tried to calm down, to be strong for the baby boy that lay so still in his strong but shaking arms. “We’ll be okay... you’ll be okay...” he tried to convince the boy, and himself.

The old man stood mere inches from the broken pair. He shook his head. “Tell me what to do! I’ll do it! Just don’t let that boy die!” he begged the spirit who still did nothing. The spirit was by far the most difficult yet, not to mention the most frightening.

The child, brought up a shaking hand, clearly wanting something to grasp. Jack shifted him into one arm and then wrapped his fingers around the boy’s small palm. “J’ckie?”

Nodding, Jack sniffled. “What, baby? What?”

“Do I make you sad?”

If there was anything in the world that could break the rock that had somehow encased Pulitzer’s heart, it was that small, broken question of a boy who still had so much to share with the word.

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head, crying even harder. “No... no... you make me the happiest man alive, Tyler James... ain’t nothin’ in the world I want more ‘n you n’ me t’gether...” he swore, his voice breaking at the end. His legs were shaking, just as the rest of his body was. “Ain’t no one ‘r nothin’ I love more ‘n you...”

The child’s bright blue eyes dropped heavily as he let his big brother thumb over his palm and wrist. “But you’s cryin’...”

Jack shook his head again and leaned down to rest his forehead on his baby brother’s. “Shhhh...” He moving to press a kiss to the boy’s hairline as he sunk down to his knees and rocked the child back and forth. “Ain’t nothin’ or no one I love more ‘n you...”

The boy was clueless, but Pulitzer couldn’t decide if he was truly in the dark or took after his brother in his skills of pretending; pretending that everything would just be okay tomorrow.

They couldn’t do much else.

“I’m tired, Jack...” the boy whimpered, swallowing hard. His small torso moved so harshly with every small gasp he took.

Whimpering just the same, Jack responded sadly, “I know, kiddo... just stay awake a little longer, okay?” he asked quietly, rocking the boy back and forth in one of his arms as he carefully grasped the boy’s hand and held it beneath his chin.

The nurse stood by watching, another man was standing in the open doorway, watching the scene just as sadly. He looked completely heartbroken, just like the rest of the room.

“Why?” Pulitzer shook his head and sniffled as he watched those blue eyes slid shut. “‘m sleepy, bubba...”

But Jack gripped him tighter. “I know, but I j’st need ya ta stay awake a little bit longer! Please, Tyler! Please just stay awake a little bit longer!” he begged, his tears too much for him.

But the man standing in the door way rushed forward, limping as he did so. “Jack...”

“Don’t make me do this, Charlie,” Jack begged quietly, subtly brushing over his baby brother’s ear, covering it as he spoke and tucking the other one to his chest. “Tell me what to do! There has to be somethin’! There has ta be someone!”

The other man looked to the nurse for help. And David blinked away the tears. Pulitzer kneeled down beside his assistant and the helpless child in his arms, reaching out to touch the boy’s forehead and gasping as his fingers brushed over those blond locks.

Tyler inhaled through his nose, turning into the odd, soft, but unfamiliar touch, only cracking his eyes open for a second. Joseph’s heart stopped when that boy looked right into his eyes. He looked so hurt, only just for a moment, before his eyes slid shut again and he curled further into his brother’s chest.

“Jack... you have ta let him sleep...” David whispered, gripping at Jack’s shoulder.

Charlie nodded, wiping at his eyes. “He’s had enough, Jamie... let him go...”

Jack froze for a moment as all hope seemed to drain straight from his eyes as these two men who Pulitzer knew nothing about told him that he had to let it be over. It hurt. It hurt to watch. It hurt to hear. It hurt to know it didn’t have to be this way. It hurt to know that Joseph could’ve done something to stop it.

The young man sniffled, brushing over Tyler’s hair and leaning down again to kiss his baby’s head. “You’re my everythin’, Racer... you know that?”

The tired boy sighed and buried his face in his guardian’s sweatshirt. “Merry Christmas, my Jackie...” the boy whispered.

Taking in a trembling breath, Jack lowered his head. “Merry Christmas, my angel...” he answered, his voice hardly more than a whisper. He leaned down even closer to his baby brother’s small ear. “I love you, Tyler James...” he breathed.

The child relaxed completely into his grip, “L-love you...” the child responded as the grip he had on Kelly’s fingers weakened, soon going completely slack. His breaths grew shorter, until they continued no more. Those blue eyes hid completely until the end of time.

And Jack screamed.

The invisible old man shook his head and cried right along with the artist as he screamed and cursed the world, cursed God, for giving him something so precious and perfect, and ripping it right out of his arms. “Spirit... why would you show me this? Why do you torture me?”

The spirit had not yet moved from its place beside the bed. It remained silent as Joseph had trouble tearing his eyes off the scene in front of him. Jack screamed and rocked the limp boy in his arms desperately, unable to truly breathe as the two young men tried to get him to let up his grip.

Jack shoved them away and held tight to Tyler James who lived no more.

James Kelly looked up, over his brother’s head. And just as his brother had before him, he looked right at the old man who had thought he was invisible. Pulitzer recognized the blame in those normally calm, kind eyes.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

Pulitzer cried. Tears spilled down his face for the first time in what must have been years. Jack fought hard. He held that body tightly against him until more people rushed in through that door to hold him back as that child was gently taken from his arms.

The young man fell to his hands and knees in complete agony, punching the ground as hard as he could as the rage and sorrow filled him up so quickly.

Pulitzer couldn’t hear him screaming. But he could feel the helplessness.

Suddenly the walls vanished around them. The solid ground became sort grass and the bed became a stone. A grey, dull tombstone that did the boy who lie beneath it no justice at all. The joy and eagerness of that boy could never be expressed again.

In Loving Memory of Tyler James Kelly. Taken too soon, a son, a brother, and a light. December 11th 2013- December 25th 2020

The young man gripped at the grass, staring at the thing as a light rain poured over him, in a raincoat that surely would not protect him for very long. Flowers lay beside the grave, a single letter, a small teddy bear, and a race car, rusty and dirty and used. “I told ya I wan’ed ta be rich... I told ya we’d be rich n’ we’d go ta Santa Fe n’ neva’ have ta worry ‘bout nothin’... n’ we neva’ had that... we neva’ had nothin’...” Jack croaked out, holding back sobs. “A-all I had was you...”

All Pulitzer could do was sit and watch. “No... no! I won’t let it happen! I won’t! I’ll change! I’ll-“

A shriek cut him off. He covered his ears quick at the ear piercing sound. He closed his eyes as the noise rung around in his head.

Then everything stopped.

Joe cautiously opened his eyes as the cloaked figure stood directly in front of him raising its shaky hand and pointing at something behind the old man. So he turned slowly.

In a matter of second he saw his young, broken assistant wither away before him. In a matter of seconds he saw what must’ve happened in a matter of months.

The young man didn’t sleep. He didn’t eat. He drank more than Pulitzer though possible and never left his bed. He began to smoke, experienced and easily, like he’d come back after quitting for many years. He got thinner fast, always had bags under his eyes and never answered the door.

Not even to the nurse or any friends who begged him to just let them in.

In a matter of seconds Joseph watched his assistant lose all hope, lose himself and lose his will to live.

And suddenly he was back in a graveyard, staring at another gravestone just beside the one that he’d just seen.

James Francis Kelly. November 16, 1995- May 19, 2021. He’s back with his angel.

“Not him... Spirit... not them... I beg of you, no! Show me what I can do! Tell me there’s something! Tell me these shadows can be changed!” The Spirit hovered over those gravestones, cocking it’s head grimly at the loud request. “Why won’t you speak?!”

In one swift, sharp movement, that spirit pointed with a strong arm. There was a force that made the old man turn, shocked at what he saw.

“Katherine...”

The young woman stood a ways away from him, standing solemnly over someone’s grave. Though, she had no tears in her eyes. Someone stood beside her. Someone Pulitzer did not recognize. A man.

“I’m sorry for you loss, Miss...”

She shook her head and crossed her arms, her hair blowing in the light wind as she simply stared down at the tomb. “Don’t be. He’s been gone for much longer than it says here... I came to terms with it a long time ago...”

The man nodded and watched as she placed some flowers beside the grave. White orchards. Joseph’s heart dropped. “No...”

“Goodbye, Father...” she whispered, pressing her fingers to her lips and pressing a kiss to them before placing her hand on the top of the stone.

Pulitzer rushed around to see it for himself, not believing it. But there it was.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. His own name carved into that stone so dauntingly, with little else on it. “Joseph Pulitzer...” he read, a sob escaping his lips. “Spirit, I don’t want to die,” he stated, his voice shaking. “Please! I’ll change! Please tell me I can change this! Tell me what I can do!”

The spirit lowered its head, beginning to fade before his very eyes. “Speak to me, dammit!” he cried, completely desperate.

He tried to stand, to grab at it, to ask questions, to plead more and more.

But he couldn’t move.

His knees began to sink into the ground. It was like quicksand. Joe gasped, pulling at his legs that wouldn’t move. He sunk quickly into the soft ground until he found himself buried in his own coffin. “Please! Please, I’ll change! Please don’t let me die! Katherine!”

He pounded on the ceiling of the box, feeling tears trail down his cheeks, making him shiver and sob even more. “I’ll change!”

“Look to yourself...” a voice rasped. “Look to yourself, before it’s too late...”

All Pulitzer could do was scream.

Wow. So. There’s that.

I’m... I’m so sorry...

#newsies #newsies live #1992 newsies #joseph pulitzer #Jack Kelly #racetrack higgins #baby!Race #tw major character death #sadness #katherine plumber #Hannah #a christmas carol #angst #much love

8 notes · View notes