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[aetheriumscript]

Deaths Embrace

She was beautiful, more beautiful than a summer sunset, draped in lacey and quite revealing black clothing, her raven hair perfectly framing her elegant face. A mediocre man such as myself had no right to even be in the vicinity of such an otherworldly beauty, and yet here she was. She appeared before me like an apparition, wordlessly pulling me nearer to her, her violet eyes shone with an intense light that seemed to bore deep into my soul, to penetrate my very being. She appeared to be a young woman, deathly pale, but otherwise the image of health, and yet she stirred something in me, something ancient, and something primal. It was fear, fear in its most basic form, a fear that rose in me and gripped my very soul, urging me to run, to turn around and never look back at this terrible beauty that had manifested before me.

           She seemed to be scrutinizing me, looking me over, silently judging me, coming too some unspoken decision that I could not even hazard to guess. I could hear the pounding of my heart, feel the blood pumping too my limbs as if my body were preparing to flee or fight.

           “How do you find me?”, the question knocked the wind out of me, it had been the last thing I expected. How did I find her? I found her to be the most beautiful creature that I had ever been graced to behold. I found her presence both alluring and terrifying, I feared her,her ethereal grace and the feelings that were stirring in my heart.

           “How do I… Find you? Madam?”, I rather stupidly mumbled the question back at her, unsure if my hearing was simply faulty.

           “That is what I asked?”, there was amusement in her voice, and her eyes fluttered flirtatiously, my legs were jelly, so despite my instinctive urge to put as much distance as possible between us, I stood dumbstruck. My palms were sweating despite the cool fall air, my throat felt as though it were on the verge of closing up, and despite having just drank a considerable amount of water, my tongue felt like sand in my mouth.

           “M’lady, I- I don’t understand your query.” Her eyes rolled and the flirtatious tone was replaced with a bit more insistence.

           “You. I want to know how you see me. Do you find me beautiful; do you think you could love one such as me?” I could not pull my eyes away from her full lips, her voice was warm honey, and her eyes were divinity.

           “I find you… to be the most beautiful thing I have ever been blessed to have set my eyes upon.”, I paused before remembering there was a second part of her question, “I-I don’t rightly know if I could love you”, a shadow came over her face, a flash of annoyance in her eyes, I rushed to finish my thought, “Only as I do not rightly know you yet milady, I know not your disposition nor your manner.” Her face softened slightly at this.

           “I like your manner of speaking human,” she seemed to nearly levitate as she moved closer to me, she placed a hand gently upon my cheek and I felt a rush of intense cold and pure ecstasy shoot through my nervous system. “So tell me, what is it you would like me to be?”, again I felt myself at a loss for words.

           “I don’t think I understand milady?” I was very nearly whispering at this point, I could not seem to gain full control over my voice. She moved her hand too my chest and again I felt that jolt of sensation that seemed to permeate even through my clothes.

           “I am asking you, what you want me to be, I can be whatever your heart pleases. Tell me what form would be easiest for you to love, and that is what I shall be.”, her voice was tantalizing, I felt myself pulled even deeper into her seduction, I was utterly enthralled in her terrible beauty. I reached my hand out, hoping to touch her, hoping to confirm that she was more than some other worldly apparition, to prove that she was as real as myself. She caught my hand in her own and pressed it to her cold lips, my entire body was wracked with a pang of equal measure pain and pleasure, I had no idea what to make of it, I simply succumbed to the feeling.

           “I want,” she continued in a near whisper, “you. And no one else, you are my chosen one, who will teach me the meaning of this word love.”, it was not a question, or at least there was no inflection in her voice to suggest that it was. She was smiling at me, and again that feeling of primal terror rose inside of me, but it was quickly quelled by the immense lust that had taken over my body at her touch.

           “Anything milady, anything for you. You but merely have to ask,” I was cut off the feeling of her finger pressing against my lips.

           “All I need from you is for you to say that you love me, to say them and mean them in your heart, and then I will be yours and you will be mine for all of eternity.”, such a seemingly simple request, and such a bountiful promise, and yet for all my desire I found myself unable to form the words. I believed that I could love her, I believed that I could enslave myself to her supreme beauty. But inside of me, that terror, that base fear that had been quelled so entirely by her seduction was fighting desperately to be acknowledged and it would not let me speak those simple words. Instead I gave a pathetic stutter, I tripped over the simple combination of sounds that seemed so easy a moment ago. She noticed this, and though she did not lose her composure, I could see that flash of irritation once more.

           “Come now, am I not beautiful to you, am I not everything you mortals could ever wish for in a lover. I promise you I can be all of this and more, whatever it is you desire, whatever it is you crave.”, she gave me a smile that did not entirely reach those intense violet colored irises and leaned in to kiss me. The feeling of a cool summer breeze caressing warm flesh, of cool water gushing against parched lips, it was everything I had never known to want. It took me a moment to find my words again, she had stolen my breath away with her cold, soft lips.

           “I…. I….” but the two little words refused to follow, and for the life of me I could not determine why. Surely I was in love, how could I not be, it was as though everything about her was designed to draw me in and hold me captive and yet… I could not say it. Her annoyance visibly intensified, and her eyes turned a darker shade of violet and seemed to glow even brighter. The wind itself seemed to turn cold, a chill began to set into my bones that I could not recall being there before.

           “What is your name human?”, her voice was still gentle, but there was a tone of command that sat just below the surface. It was obvious that she had not expected my resistance, it seems we had both been caught by surprise.

           “D-delion milady. Delion of White Orchard.”, that fear that had been clawing its way from the pit of my stomach was growing more and more powerful with the passing moments. Whoever this mysterious woman was, she was something that I had always feared, perhaps since my birth, without even knowing it. It was the fear born not of experience, but of instinct, an instinct passed by generations of humanity, deeply rooted in my very being.

           “Delion of White Orchard. Do you know why it is the sunsets?”, I hadn’t expected this question and found myself stumbling inside my mind looking for an answer. “Or why it is the tides come in and out on the coast? Perhaps you know why it is the seasons come and go?”, I was still searching for an answer in my head, I opened my mouth to give some pathetic guess at any one of these questions but she made it obvious she was not looking for one.

           “No. You do not know. Nor does it matter if you do, does it? Because these things are inevitable, just as I am inevitable. I do not know if you are actively trying to insult me, or if you are simply an idiot.” despite her insult she moved her hand to caress my cheek once more before forcefully jerking my chin upwards to look me directly in the eyes. “It is the height of idiocy to fight against that which is inevitable, whether you struggle or not, life and death will happen in our cycle. So I urge you, do not fight against the inevitable, you will love me, maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but you will grow to love me. When is not important, the only thing that matters right now is that you say the words so that I can set about making sure the feelings follow them.”, the annoyance had vanished from her face which was now the picture of adoration and tenderness.

           “I am sorry, I do not know what it is that-”, she cut off my hushed tone with another press of her chilled lips. She lingered there for a moment before once more pulling away and smiling down at me.

           “All of these words are unnecessary my love, I only need to hear those three. Let me hear them, do not prolong my suffering, we could be together for all of eternity if you would only say. Those. Words.”, there was a slight desperation in her voice now, and for some reason that was the indication that made my fear finally take a hold, and when it did, something inside me woke up. In the place of that beautiful woman, that image of perfect and cruel beauty and grace. Stood a figure of half rotted flesh, of thin and sparsely rooted black hair crawling with maggots, teeth that showed through where lips had surely once been, cracked and black with age. The hand that was holding my chin was now bone and blackened flesh, she… it was not the woman I had seen. I yelled and fell backwards feeling myself slam into the unyielding ground, my mind was racing, I couldn’t understand what had happened. When she spoke again, that warm voice had been replaced by a sound that reminded me of tearing pages, of crumbling stone and the terrible sound of a death knell ringing through a church yard.

           “My love? What has come over you? Am I not beautiful to you? Why do you resist me?”, she reached down with that decaying hand, my flinch was all the indication she needed, those still violet eyes showed a flash of understanding, understanding that I had seen through the form she had so carefully crafted for my benefit. This understanding was quickly replaced by a look of immense pain, while her face may have been mostly gone, there was enough for me to read that much. Before I could process this fully, fury took a hold of those decomposing features, the violet of her eyes turned a fiery red, and the cold wind become infinitely colder, biting into my flesh with invisible teeth.

           “What… what are you?”, they were the only three words I could muster in my bewilderment, and unfortunately those were not the three words she had wanted to hear.

           “I am the end of you. I am the end of all things that walk, swim, crawl or fly, of the things that grow in the ground and the things that dwell above and below it. I am the killer of kings. I. Am. The. Inevitable.” it was then that something inside of me fully understood the reason for the great fear that had risen inside of me at the sight of her, I had been looking at the face of Death herself, the primal fear inside of me was that animal instinct that causes the deer to run from the wolf, that makes the swallow fear the hawk, it was the fear of death's embrace.

           “You reject me?”, through the rage that filled her voice, there was an underlying pain, the pain of an eternity of loneliness, “No. I reject you.”, she moved closer to me until she stood directly over me, insects falling from her mouth as she spoke.

           “Please, let me be! I am a young man still, i’m not ready to die!”, my pleas were pathetic and tears had begun to stream down my face, I tried desperately to crawl away from her but she only advanced towards me.

           “I reject you Delion of White Orchard. You need not fear your end. I will NEVER come for you. You will walk this world forever, you will never know the peace I offer.”, a feeling of strange relief swept over me. Knowing that I would not die that day, nor any day had a strange calming effect. “But do not think of this as a gift, no, you will be alone forever, you would not accept me, so you will have no one. I will take anyone who ever has or ever will love you. A day will come when you are weary of perpetual existence, when you grow tired of constant solitude, and on that day you will call out to me. I will come on that day, and on that day I will reject you just as you have rejected me. This is my promise to you.” And with that promise, Death herself vanished before my eyes, and I was left alone in the unseasonably cold air of that summer night.

           Death has kept her promise well, I have walked this wide world for some 700 years, and I have indeed grown weary of it. I have seen every country, I have spoken nearly every language, I have met kings and queens, I have fought alongside great generals in wars that have been forgotten by time itself. I have met many great people and many terrible ones along the way, I have loved and been loved, and every time, without fail Death has returned to snatch them from my grasp. I have since given up on love, one can only lose so much before it no longer becomes worth it to try. I have tried to die many times over the centuries, all the wars, all the natural disasters, and yet I still stand.

           Her prediction was correct. A day came where I called out to her, I had grown tired of existing, I sought only to die and be given rest once and for all, so I went out into the woods near where I first encountered her and I waited, calling out to her. Eventually, after three days and nights, she appeared before me in that beautiful form in which she had first manifested, but there was no tenderness in her face, when she spoke it was cold as the winds that bit my flesh on that night all those centuries ago.

           “So the day has come. Ask me Delion of White Orchard, so that I may give you my answer.”, there was cruelty in her voice, she had been awaiting this day and she was relishing in my desperation.

           “Milady, I beg of-”, she laughed, and it was the most bone chilling laugh one can imagine.

           “I am not your lady, you saw to that long ago didn’t you Delion.”, she sneered at me but made no further interruption.

           “Milady… I have walked this earth for 400 years…. I have seen empires rise and fall,  I have seen you take everyone and anyone close to me. I beg of you… forgive me for my offense. I will love you” there was no laugh this time, only fury and sadness in her cold voice.

           “I will not have your love wretch; I have no need of it any longer. You will find no sympathy from me.”, her fury was palpable, I felt as though I would be entirely consumed by it, time had done nothing to cool her animosity towards me.

           “So you would leave me to suffer as I am? At one point you claimed to love me, is this your ‘love’”, I was angry, I had suffered for centuries over her grudge, and despite my prostration she refused to just let me die. She hesitated at this, those red eyes momentarily flashed violet once more before again being consumed with the glaring red.

           “I offered you an eternity, you decided you did not want the one I offered, so I gave you another. You have only yourself to blame Delion” her voice had softened slightly though the malice was still undeniably there. I stood up now, I was fed up with that eternity, I wanted no part of it, I simply wanted her to take me with her and let me be at peace and I did my best to convey that sentiment in my voice.

           “You can’t force someone to love you.”, I was pleading, with no regard for my dignity, “What you offered me was enslavement, an existence much like this one, but shackled to you for its entirety. That isn’t living.”

           “Well now it would seem that you have had enough of your ‘living’ ”, '' she sneered, “ So now what? Now you come along to tell me that it took you 400 years to regret what you did to me. You think these centuries have been lonely for you? Can you even fathom the longevity of my own loneliness? Can you even begin to comprehend what it is like to be truly alone?” She turned from me now, and began to walk away, “Live on Delion of White Orchard, I’ll not take you this day, nor any other day. If I must carry on with no one, you will do just the same. Your punishment has only just begun”, and with this she disappeared once more, leaving me again with nothing but the cool air as my companion.

           So my life carried on, a century later I made the bold decision to love once more. She reminded me so much of Death, beautiful beyond description, quick to anger, and yet her caresses were like heaven to me. I loved her, so much so that I could not help but warn her about my curse, and to my surprise she decided to stay with me. For some time I remained distant, always weary of the Deaths jealousy and the damage it had wrought before. But this time, she was not snatched away from me, instead we had a child, and for a moment all seemed right with the world once more, and I began to think that Death had decided to grant me some small reprieve from my suffering. I was a fool to think that.

           It was two winters after the birth of my daughter Greyla, our little family had been thriving in London, we had plenty of money and food, access to medicines and doctors and yet none of this could stop Death from intervening in my life once more. My wife fell ill, extremely ill, and it was a matter of days before I found myself putting her in the ground, I thought I had grown used to loss, grown numb to its pain, and yet I was shattered at her death. Greyla soon followed her mother in Death, and I was once more all alone in this vast world but this pain was different. It was all encompassing, having had a taste of love and a life spent with two whom my heart was wholly dedicated to, when it was ripped away I became a shell of my former self. I did not eat for weeks, I holed myself up in my flat which now felt crushingly empty, it was then, in the depths of my despair that she came to me once more, Death showed herself to me.

           “You cannot starve to death Delion. You know this.”, there was no malice in her voice, in fact it was almost consoling, and yet I could not help but feel intense hatred towards her.

           “Yes. You have ensured that I will never be blessed with a natural end, my life story runs on, uninterrupted and unencumbered by mortality.”, I wished she would simply disappear and leave me alone once more, and yet she stayed.

           “Do you want me to take you?”, her question stopped my heart, I didn’t dare believe that this was anymore then some bait that would allow her to open new wounds in me.

           “And just why,” my heart had started again and it was beating several times louder than it had before, “Would you do that? Have you grown tired of tormenting me?”, I did nothing to hide the sarcasm in my tone and did all I could to emphasis the animosity in my voice. I wasn’t even looking at her, I did not want to see that beautiful face that had so often torn my heart to pieces.

           “Yes.”, again I was taken aback though I still did not look at her, I simply stared out of the window in front of me, watching the people bustle about in the London street, ignorant to my suffering. “Delion of White Orchard, you have suffered enough. When I took that child from you, something inside me withered, I am Death itself, and yet a part of me truly died that day. So I have decided that if you would like, I can allow you to finally die and join me in the next life.”

           “So that’s what this is.”, I was enraged now, I spun around to glare at her, “So I reject you in life, so your newest plan is to force me to love you in death. How dare you. How dare you even entertain the idea that I could ever love someone who has spent so much time making my life a living hell, and robbed me of my only way to escape it.”, I was going to continue, but I was shaken by what I saw in her flawless face. I would have missed it had I not been looking so intently at her, a single tear was running down Death's face. Death herself was shedding a tear, and that tear was for me, the sight of this solitary tear took my rage to incredible new heights.

           “No. I think not. I think that it is your turn to be punished ‘my love’.”, I was beyond shouting, I was so angry that a strange calm had settled over me, and now my only desire was to ensure that she felt my misery. “I will never join you, I will accept this vindictive punishment you have inflicted on me. And I will never forgive you for what you have taken from me, tell me one thing. Do you love me?”

           She wiped away the tears that had begun to trickle down her cheeks, “I do. So please, let me end your-”, I cut her off with a dismissive wave of my hand, I was not interested in her words any longer. She had the nerve to cry in front of me, I had cried until the tears would come no more, tears that she had caused, and yet she had the nerve to feel sadness.

           “Then if you love me as you say you do, you will never forgive yourself, just as I can never forgive you. You will cry for me, and you will lament that you will never have my love. I wish only misery on you as you have given to me.”, the tears were streaming down her face but she made no sound, there was only a deep sadness in her eyes, a sadness so overwhelming that it was nearly audible. She said nothing, and with one last look of contempt I turned to once again look out the window onto the overcast London afternoon. I did not see her go, but I knew she had gone and though I hated her a part of me wished she had stayed just so I would not be alone once more.

           And so, my eternal life has continued, I am still weary of this existence, there are times when I truly wish I had allowed her to take me to the next life, but no. No, I will never allow that, I will never allow her to think she has done me a kindness, she deserves to feel guilt, to feel as lonely as I do every waking moment of this cursed life. Sometimes she comes to me, sometimes she is silent, simply looking at me with sadness and longing in her eyes, other times she pleads with me to forgive her, to let her make amends for all she has done. It is tempting at times, and at times I feel pity for her, but in those times I remember the small child I had held in my arms, the little girl whom I had loved so deeply, and that pity evaporates instantaneously.

The funniest part of this whole story is that I realized that I had indeed grown to love Death, or perhaps my hatred had simply grown so deep and intense that I could no longer comprehend the emotion I felt towards her. The only thing I know for sure is that Death will never have me, she desires me, she wishes to have me, but she knows that forcefully taking me will never earn my forgiveness, and above all else that is what she truly craves.

[aetheriumscript]

Mr. Tiro’s Charge

She was an object, people could not be so readily bought and returned as she was. So in her mind and the minds of many others she is something less than human, an object. She had developed a numb indifference to this, it had been her life for the last nine years and it would most likely remain that way. Sometimes when she laid on her bed she remembered the little girl that had been sent away in hopes of her finding a better life. She knew her parents' intentions had been pure, but she couldn’t help hating them for the world they had unwittingly handed her over too. Every morning she woke up in her well-furnished apartment, paid for by the company. She ate a well-balanced breakfast, groceries on a company card reloaded every month. She practiced her reading with the morning paper and after cleaning her used dishes she went into her large bathroom. In her bathroom she cried, always over the porcelain sink, when the last of her emotions trickle down the drain she took a shower. She readied herself for the day, she dressed in one of her many elegant outfits provided by the company tailor. She usually wore her thick raven hair down over one shoulder, usually, by the end of the day it wound up in a ponytail. After she did her hair she waited in the living room for a call to come, the call was always from a private number, and it is always a female voice on the other end. The voice would give her a breakdown of her schedule for the day, it included times, locations, client names, and numbers, as well as the “services” to be completed. Then at 9:45 on the dot, her handler Mr. Tiro would knock on her door three times, they would exit her apartment and take the back staircase down to Mr. Tiros company car and from there her day began. That was her routine every single morning for the last nine years, and it brought her some strange ease of mind. Throughout her day she would be forced to bow to every whim and fetish her clients could think of and they could think of a lot, but her mornings were in her control down to what she ate and what underwear she wore.

For the most part, the company made attempts to keep her and the other girls safe, they charged exorbitantly for the more taboo and or monstrous services. This indeed kept away the deranged street punks and homeless men seeking a punching bag, but some monsters have very deep pockets. As such it never failed that at the end of most days she had some bruise or mark on her body. At the end of her day Mr. Tiro picked her up from her last appointment, he was a kind man and he spent extra time making sure she was safely and comfortably returned to her apartment. Sometimes when her wounds were extensive he would help her to disrobe and he would bath her before treating her wounds and preparing her dinner. For these past nine years he has been the closest thing she has known too a friend, and yet they had hardly said more than five words to each other.

Not all of her clients were deplorable men, many men came to her out of a simple feeling of loneliness. Some were simply men who had no attraction to their now fat and lazy wives, these men were usually nervous but gentle. They brought her gifts and showered her with praise and compliments, many even promised to take her away from this life. They never did, instead they returned to their normal lives with their families and let her become just a memory they pleasured themselves too when their wives fell asleep. Many of them would return again, with more gifts and praise and even more empty promises, and she was always there with open arms and a plastic smile. She knew they wouldn’t risk the stability of their lives for a thing like her, only the foolish girls bought into a client's empty whisperings.

One night she returned to her apartment entirely in the arms of Mr.Tiro. Her fifth too client of the day had been a mountain of a man with brutal tastes. He had been unable to “perform”, that is until she had cracked four of her ribs and left her backside and legs covered in bleeding welts. She did not complain, she did not cry, once the client had reached his climax she cleaned herself as best she could and waited to be ferried to her next appointment. She had remained silent on the ride as normal and was delivered to a downtown hotel shortly before her final appointment for the night. Less than twenty minutes later the company received a call from a disgruntled client saying she had never arrived. Mr. Tiro would find her unconscious in the women's bathroom right around the corner from the angry man's room. He made a formal apology to the very rotund man on behalf of the company, the man was nearly drooling at the sight of the unconscious girl and insisted he could make use of her anyway,  but eventually conceded to an offer of a free appointment at a later date.

 Mr. Tiro carefully brought her down the emergency staircase of the hotel and placed her in the back seat of the company car, after quickly surveying her he felt a sharp twinge strike his heart. The girl was in bad shape, dried blood had caked in streams down her legs and her breathing was labored. He drove her back to her apartment and carried her up the stairs and into her apartment with the help of a doorman, the man knew better than to ask questions, especially while receiving his sizable salary directly from the company. Once inside the apartment he carried her into the bathroom, he disrobed her and ran her a bath, he gently cleaned her giving extra attention to her bloodied bottom half. After he treated her wounds and dressed her in some pajamas he found in her drawers, he placed her on her bed and sat on the chaise lounge next to it. He stayed with her through that night, watching over her like a guardian angel, she cried in her sleep and pleaded in her native tongue.

When she woke the next morning there was a note beside her on the bed, it was from Mr. Tiro saying the company after his advisement had given her two days off to recover from her wounds. The company had also placed a black ball on the offending client's name, he would find service with other companies very difficult to come by in the future. They also left contact information for a doctor should she need any further care medically, of course, they wouldn’t want her to go to a hospital, their doctor was no doubt on retainer and knew better than to ask any questions about the injuries. She went through her morning ritual as though it were just any other day, but when the time came to wait for the company call, she found herself sitting in her living room all dressed up with nowhere to go. This was her first day off since she had begun working for the company as a young girl, she had no idea how people generally filled their day. She decided to continue practicing her English with the morning paper, she came upon an ad for an open-air marketplace, she didn’t know the address listed but after putting it into her computer she found it was right down the street in the big pavilion.

The market was an experience unlike anything she had ever been through, the laughing and loud chatter of people bustling about, the aromas. The aromas were what she liked best, the smells of freshly baked bread and fried foods were intoxicating. Everyone seemed so happy, and it was contagious, she felt a smile begin to creep across her face as she walked from vendor to vendor perusing their offerings. Across the pavilion she caught a glimpse of a familiar face, it was one of her regular clients, he was with a strikingly beautiful woman, there were two small children with them. She was caught off guard by the appearance of the woman that was clearly her client's wife, she was stunning not at all fat or unattractive. She had always pictured his wife to be some slovenly woman with facial hair and excess body fat, but this woman looked like she had just fallen out of the cover of a magazine. She continued to stare at the marketplace at her client, people moved around her and some gave her puzzled looks as she stood there.  She had seen this man once a week for the past two years, always on Thursdays, always at two o'clock in the afternoon, he had always been one of her more gentle clients and she had almost come to enjoy the time they spent together. He was one of the ones who whispered those empty promises in her ear, promises of lavish vacations and a family of her own. She had known that those words were empty, girls like her didn't typically get such a happy ending, but seeing him living out those promises with another was none the less heartbreaking. Her thoughts spiraled downwards as she continued to stare at the family that was now taking a picture with a man in a big head costume, she kept thinking about how unfair it was. Why was it that after he decided he was done with her, he was allowed to return to the daylight, while she was ferried off too whoever had rented her body next. Her thoughts grew frenzied and furious, why was that woman any different than her? Why had she been graced with a life and picture perfect family, while at the end of the day she was left with no one but the solemn Mr. Tiro, whom she still only saw for a short time? In her quiet rage, she barely noticed she had begun to walk towards the family, who was now standing in line for cotton candy. As she drew closer the man saw her and his face blanched, but she was too incensed to care about any scene she might cause. Before she knew it she found herself standing right in front of the family of four, the little boy and girl looked up at her, and their mother pulled them in closer clearly confused. For a moment all of them were quiet, and then her rage broke loose in a flurry of wild slaps and obscenities, she wasn't sure when she started crying but in the midst of her fit, she felt the hot sting of tears running from her eyes. People were looking now and before she knew it a pair of strong arms was pulling her away from the man, who was now yelling his own obscenities at her while nervously looking around at the staring crowd. She struggled against the large arms wrapped around her waist for a moment, and then she caught the familiar scent of sandalwood, Mr. Tiro's cologne.

She cried as Mr. Tiro walked her back to her apartment building. As usual, he said nothing, but she felt comforted just knowing he was there. When they finally crossed the threshold to her building he picked her up unexpectedly and placed her on her bed, he then moved to the bathroom to run her a bath. After a while, she stopped crying and Mr. Tiro emerged from the bathroom with a towel and a robe for her, she disrobed as he faced the wall and then followed him into the bathroom. She slipped into the hot water and almost on command her tears came again, her body still bore the bruises from the previous day and Mr. Tiro took extra care to wash over the cuts on her ribs and legs. Once her hair had been washed Mr. Tiro exited the bathroom to allow her to don the robe he had given her, once she emerged she heard the sounds of sizzling meat coming from the kitchen. She entered the large kitchen to find her handler standing over a pan of mixed ingredients, she sat herself down at the table and waited patiently. She knew her actions would have consequences, and no doubt she would be getting a heavily reduced pay after embarrassing a regular client. She sat in her thoughts until Mr. Tiro placed a bowl of meat and vegetables in front of her before seating himself directly across from her at the table. He watched her patiently as she picked at half of the food before pushing the rest of it away, he took care of the dishes and she retreated back to her bedroom, she lay there listening to the sounds of water running and cabinet doors closing. Mr. Tiro entered her room and made a short bow before turning to exit the room.

"Please stay", her voice was quiet and her words seemed to surprise the usually composed man. He lingered in the doorway for a moment before turning around and seating himself in the chaise lounge near her bed, he said nothing and she said nothing more. She cried herself to sleep and Mr. Tiro watched over his charge.

[aetheriumscript]

Wonder Woman Was Sick

Wonder Woman was a badass movie yo. I say that with absolutely no shame,  some people wanna bitch about it being too feminist, I couldn’t find a single shit to give though because that movie was dope. Listen, I don’t buy into ideological propaganda projects at all, I can sniff those out a good 99% of the time, so I’m 99% sure that DC Comics didn’t hypnotize me into being a male feminist. That movie was cool, Chris Pine is sick, what else would you expect out of Captain-Muh-Fuggin-Kirk. Gal Gadot, goddamn if that ain’t one badass chick, I ain’t saying she’s a Cris Cyborg, but come on yall. She served in the Israeli military, that shit’s mandatory over there so I can only imagine the rest of ‘em. Not to mention the fact that she is absolutely beautiful, and smart as hell, how can you disparage this woman? I have actually seen people talking about how unrealistic the movie is…. Holy shit. Listen yo, I’m gonna apologize on behalf of DC Comics and whoever the hell else produced this kick-ass movie.

I am sorry. I am completely and totally apologetic. I honestly cannot express just how genuinely sorry I am that the fuckin’ movie based on a comic book was a tad bit unrealistic. I am very very very very sorry that the movie about a woman who is half god and interacts with the Greek pantheon, is a little bit exaggerated. 

Listen, I’m not saying you can’t like the movie, that’s completely fine, there is a ton of shit I don’t like that most people do and I think that’s totally cool. All I’m saying is, if you really really don't agree with a message or portrayal that a movie offers, all you have to do is don’t go see it. Believe me, I have been alive for 21 years now, and in that short amount of time, I have learned that just because I don’t like something doesn't mean I have to go see it and bitch. I don’t like neo-nazis… and ya know what? I don't feel the desire to go to a meeting and write a Yelp review. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but when I saw the trailers for Great Wall with Matt Damon, I thought to myself “this movie looks like I’ll wanna kill myself afterward”, and ya know what? I didn’t go see it… and I also didn’t bitch about it too everyone I knew… ya know why? Because I don’t give a shit about that movie… because I didn’t want to…. Let that sink in bitches.

[aetheriumscript]

Vice

Vice is a strange thing. At least to me, it is, but I do admit I am a strange person myself. Vice is defined as “immoral or wicked behavior”, and I ain't bullshittin’, that’s the definition when I typed it into google, so take that for whatever you deem it to be worth. Either way, that definition is weird, which I suppose is what makes the word itself weird in the end, I never claimed to be intelligent so judge me not. “Immoral or wicked behavior”, are cigarettes really immoral? Alcohol ? Weed ? Goddamn… if those are immoral and wicked than I really gotta rethink my opinion on a lot of people I know.  Why on gods green earth, does smoking a cig because I'm drunk and more than a little stoned, make me a bad person? Who the hell doesn’t enjoy a beer every now and then? Shit, I knew a kid who was a borderline alcoholic when I was in high school and he seemed like a nice enough guy. Funny story about that kid, I got a ride home from him once and he said we just had to stop at his house, so we stop at this dudes house and he is in there for straight up ten minutes and I got shit to do. So just as I'm about to text this dude he comes out of the house with two miller light pounders (sixteen-ounce cans for those who never experienced college) in his hands. So he gets in the car and offers me one, I decline because I am thoroughly perplexed about the turn this ride just took. So he tosses the one he had offered me in the back seat and right before my very eyes shotguns the one in his hands, used a knife and everything. So after he tosses the crushed and empty can in the back seat he looks at me, and the most fucked up thing is that he didn’t even say anything, he just started the car and backed out. So we start down the road and I ask him if he usually drinks a beer (drinks lol) before he drives, and then I swear before God he says something that made my heart fuckin’ die. “Well I had one in the house too”, Jesus christ I almost jumped out the window like a Bond stunt double. Back too the topic at hand, I think that whoever decided what things fell under vice was some old ass dude who’s wife fucked a biker and so he started hating all the fun shit. Really dude? That guy never enjoyed a cigarette? I’m not endorsing smoking but Jesus people, try it next time you drink, it’s the shit. I guess all I'm trying to say in the end is that if me wanting to shoot up heroin after I have a beer and a joint, that's my business and mine alone. I know that wasn’t funny, but you read this all the way through to the end so I already got you anyway.

[aetheriumscript]

A Black James Bond ?!

Recently I heard a rumor that I admit made me slightly aroused with excitement. Word on the streets is my adopted father Idris Elba may find himself portraying the most badass figures in literary and film history, James-Goddamn-Bond. As a fan of Luther, and Elba’s other works, I was pretty fuckin’ stoked. In my opinion, Idris Elba is a truly spectacular actor, and also as a fan of the Bond films I am curious to see his follow up after Daniel Craig's awesome run. In my excitement I took to social media to make my excitement known and too revel in the possibilities, this was, of course, a fatal error. As pretty much everyone knows at this point, the internet is not a place to express your joy and happiness, because the internet feeds off of them and spawns hatred. That hatred manifests itself in the form of people who are pissed off about a black James Bond.

Yes. In 2017, there are people who have so much free time and so little to truly care about what they have to spend their limited time on this earth bitching about a black James Bond. Now, of course, I recognize that this is only my opinion and in all reality, it is but a drop in a bucket of rainwater, none the less this is something I think we should be examining. While I do think it’s a silly thing to care about in the first place, I can’t deny I understand why this might be a hot topic in today's climate. Race seems to be a very divisive topic these days, and this is, of course, a subject that is centered around the race of a widely admired and traditionally white character. That being said I think the fact that I just used the word “character” should be taken into account, James Bond is indeed a fictional character and not a historical figure. If you had Spielberg pitching movie ideas about a Vietnamese Abraham Lincoln I would understand the outrage, but in this scenario, James Bond was never real in the first place. I think that this distinction kind of opens the door for interpretation and further plot development by fans of the said character, for an example just look to the disturbingly large world of fan fiction. If some thirty-year-old dude can write uncomfortable sexual stories about scandalous trysts between Boromir and Aragorn why can’t Bond have some melanin? I don’t see anyone getting mad at some of the downright scandalous shit I've seen on Harry Potter message boards.

Now before I get into the meat of my own views, it is only fair to try and get to the heart of the outrage the best that I can, obviously I might not get it right but believe me when I say this is my best attempt. It seems that there is a lot of scapegoating going on today between many communities, and regardless of the merit of these accusations, a lot of it is being directed towards the Caucasian population. As a person of color, specifically a racially mixed individual, it looks like being white eats a bag of dicks. I mean even white people hate white people right now, I have a white friend who shits on white people all the time. Yes, white people have done some things in the past that would most likely get you tried for crimes against humanity today, anyone who denies that is a fool. That being said, as a person of mixed race, a large portion of that mixture being French and Canadian, there is a lot that caucasian nationalities have contributed to the world and those, as well as the atrocities, need to be considered in equal measure for the sake of harmony. Again I can see why white people who some might say have been under attack lately, might be feel a little strange about the usually white Bond being Black now.

Now, while i do understand that side of the argument and WHY one might feel upset about such a change in such an iconic character, I think it’s fuckin’ silly. I have seen the comments and arguments people have left on social media and other internet forums, and while I see the reasoning behind some of them, the majority of them seem like the blind babblings of stupid people. I actually saw a person on a facebook post say “James Bond wasn’t black”, yes they said “wasn’t”. Actually you silly bitch, James Bond WASN”t real in the first place so in all actuality he can be whatever race they want him to be and it is just as valid as the works considered “canon”. I admit that I may be a little biased as someone who has african descent, it would be kind of cool to see a black Bond, but for me atleast that is the most inconsequential part of the rumor. If Idris Elba was white I would still think he was a good actor, and I would be just as excited for him to be the one taking over one of my favorite film characters. Even acknowledging this bias though, I have never really been one to get upset over changes like this, it’s a very passing consideration for me. When I saw Matt Damon inexplicably playing the lead in a movie about China’s greatest landmark I thought it was a little odd, but as the movie itself looked silly I didn’t have two shits to give. When Scarlett Johansson was cast in the live action Ghost In The Shell movie, I noticed the strange decision to not use an asian actor in the role, but it barely registered beyond that acknowledgement. Ghost In The Shell also turned out to be pretty damn awesome too so that might have helped. In the case of Idris Elba as Bond, Idris Elba as an individual, disregarding race is about as fuckin’ James Bond as you can get. He’s tall, he’s a god damn beautiful man, he’s smooth as a babies ass and he is still british. I mean for god sake Pierce Brosnan was Irish !! They hate the British and no one even said shit about that !! Idris Elba is actually British and actually could be a convincing choice, but people are getting hung up on such an inconsequential thing. I mean are you gonna get pissed if you're gardner shows up and isn’t mexican? I could just be a naive millennial, but it really does seem like a silly thing to get hung up on, no one is saying a black Bond is better, it’s just something new and that in itself should be exciting too any Bond fan. I mean shit I love Harry Potter, but I sure as hell wouldn’t mind seeing a hood version with Morgan Freeman as Dumbledore. Lord of The Rings is sick … but an Ecuadorian Frodo would still merit a viewing from me because I love those movies so goddamn much. I feel the need to once again reiterate that this is purely my opinion, but none the less I felt the need to express it.