#bones of a rabbit makes such good art please follow them please

[tathrin]

🎨 + 🤲

From this ask meme. (I know you asked these last night, I'm sorry for running out of time to answer them before. I hope you didn't worry that you'd been forgotten!)

These are the last asks in my inbox so if I haven't answered yours yet, then they have been lost/forgotten sorry please resend.

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

I WOULD ASCEND BODILY INTO A HEAVEN I DON'T EVEN BELIEVE IN IF SOMEONE DREW FANART BASED ON ONE OF MY STORIES OH MY GODS. Ahem I'm fine, very chill, nbd. Fanart is awesome.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

I'm going to combine this with another ask and answer them both together since they touch on the same topic:

So @katajainen has gotten me thinking about zombies in Middle-earth courtesy these amazingly awful fics here, and now I find myself lost deep down a world building rabbit hole (inspired also by @roselightfairy and @deheerkonijn's incredible Modern LotR AU) for a Modernized High Fantasy Zombie Apocalypse story and setting. Here's a bit of it.

The sound of the engine, which has been their steady accompaniment for so many hours now that it feels like the rumble of it must be baked all the way into their bones, finally fades. The silence that follows is so strong that it almost rings, feeling somehow louder than the engine for a moment.

Then it is broken by two car doors opening and closing, and the heavy stomp of dwarven boots across rough ground.

"Ahhh!" Gimli says, holding his arms up over his head and stretching all the way up onto his toes before bending over and grabbing for his ankles. His spine crackles in relief. "That feels good!"

"Don't go tumbling head-over-heels and rolling back down the mountain, now," Glóin chides him teasingly.

Gimli rolls his eyes and stomps off into the brush that lines the overgrown road for a few moments of very specific privacy. Behind him, his father snorts into his beard and then goes groping for a handkerchief. Dwarves are not people of sunlight and trees, and the pollen of so many plants is making his nose drip.

That doesn't mean that Glóin can't appreciate the view a little, as he turns to look back down over the land behind them. From this point of the High Pass, he can see great fields of green and brown stretching out behind him. Sunlight sparkles off the curve of distant rivers, and birds that he cannot name twitter in the sparse trees that dot the steep mountain earth around him. This is not a place for dwarves, outside in the sun with nothing around but green plants and feathered, flying things; but it is still a mountain, even if they stand on the outside of it rather than within. It is still a good place, in its own way, even if it is not a dwarven one, and Glóin takes a few minutes to appreciate the sights around him.

Also it is nice simply to be out of the car for a little. Glóin always thought the seats of the [DWARVEN CAR MAKE] to be the epitome of comfort, but after three days of being crammed into one as the car jolts and bounces its way up an unpaved mountain road, he is beginning to revise that opinion. Like Gimli, Glóin stretches out his stiff muscles a little, but he does not have his son's enthusiasm—nor his youthful flexibility. He contents himself with smaller motions, working the bones and joints as much as anything. Even dwarven bodies, which are stiff and stony by nature, can become uncomfortably rigid after too long confined in one tight space, and it feels good to ease that stillness and get the blood flowing again.

Glóin groans happily as he sinks down onto the warm bumper of the car, luxuriating in the feeling of stretching his legs out before him without pedals to interfere or the press of a belt across his chest to draw him back. He listens to the crackling sounds of Gimli stomping through the brush, at this point finished with his moment of privacy and now just giving his blood a chance to wake up too. Glóin glances over and sees his son shooting glances over the edge of the mountain, clearly also taking a moment to enjoy the view, and he smiles and ducks his head before Gimli sees him watching and accuses him of getting sappy.

Gimli is too young to understand, but he will someday. Sappiness is an inevitable side-effect of fatherhood, and not something that any dwarf stands much chance of resisting in the end.

He scratches absently at the bandage that sticks out past the end of his rolled-up sleeve and lets himself wonder what being a grandfather will be like. The day is many years away of course, if it should come at all; but out here in the warm sun with the air blowing past crisp and clean on the side of a high mountain, it is a nice thing to contemplate. Certainly better than the ugly plague they left behind in Erebor, the grim knowledge that cannot be forgotten and which drives the urgency of their travel.

Glóin catches himself scratching harder and makes a face into his beard. The itching is a good sign, he knows, a sign that the wound below is healing; still, that knowledge does not make the itching pleasant. With a sigh, he pulls his hand away before he can dislodge the soft white cotton or do some damage to the oozing scabs that lie concealed beneath.

He still can't believe Kili bit him when he went to hug his poor, feverish nephew goodbye.

Glóin sniffles and curses the pollen all around them. He wipes his nose again as he hears Gimli laugh. "You all right, da?" his son calls from the other side of the car.

Glóin looks down at the handkerchief in his hand and feels a chill run up his bones suddenly, despite the warmth of the sun overhead. "Fine," Glóin barks, staring at the spots of blood on the pale cloth. "Just a bit stuffy from all this damned greenery."

Gimli chuckles and returns to whatever he was doing before—more stretching, Glóin thinks absently, from the sounds of soft grunting and shifting cloth—and Glóin shoves the bloody handkerchief deep into the pocket of his jacket. He shivers, despite the warmth of the day.

"All right, time's wasting," he declares, taking care to make his voice as cheery and boisterous as though he were calling a crowd in for a feast. He shoves himself to his feet and unrolls the sleeves of his jacket against the sudden chill. "We aren't out here to sight-see, after all," Glóin says, and is abruptly reminded of the sight of Dori coughing into that bloody handkerchief of his back in the dim and empty council chambers. Is he well again by now, or has he succumbed like so many have to the disease, to be lying even now in a feverish stupor in a bed lined with chains in the increasingly-crowded hospital rooms? Are the dwarves they have left behind getting better on their own, or are they still getting worse?

Has anyone died yet?

Glóin shivers again and pulls his jacket tighter, buttoning it up high beneath his beard. As anxious as their hurried trip has been so far, he feels more than ever now that they are running out of time. "Back in the car," he orders.

Gimli grumbles good-naturedly, but he doesn't hesitate. He understands the urgency of their journey too, after all. He walks back to the car, taking the chance to stretch his arms up over his head and tug at them one last time before climbing back inside. His shoulders protest the movement but they revel in it, too, and some of the ache of travel lifts from his muscles.

Glóin's aches do not lessen. The stone of his bones is too old, the boulder of his heart too heavy. "In fact," he says slowly, "why don't you take the wheel for a while."

Gimli freezes with his hand on the door. "Da," he says, "are you talking pyrite?"

"No." Glóin shakes his head. He tosses the keys to Gimli. "Go on, if you're going to."

"But you hate my driving," Gimli says, even as he hurries to the other side of the car and slides into the driver's seat before his father can change his mind.

"Eh, well," Glóin shrugs. "Nobody else on the road all the way out here, is there? What better time for you to drive."

"Da," Gimli groans, "that was one time and I was barely sixty. I'm not going to hit anything now."

"Certainly not if you don't get moving," Glóin says mildly.

Gimli curses him affectionately and starts the engine. As the car rumbles off up the mountain pass, Glóin turns his face to the window and discreetly wipes his nose again.

His hand comes away bloody.

[flesh-of-a-hare]

Welcome to the flesh pit!

Hello! You’ve, unfortunately, stumbled upon my angst blog! If you recognize my art, hello friend and/or fellow simp! Please don’t tell anyone how I live

This is just a side blog for all the angry, anxious, upset art-vomit that I occasionally need to purge out of my system. Most of it will be of my sona/self insert, sometimes featuring ocs, sometimes featuring canon characters from weird fandoms bc I’m just cringy like that!

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR:

Implications of mental illness, including, but not limited to: anxiety, depression, mood disorders, PTSD, guilt complex, self hatred, anger management issues, and self image issues

Violence, blood, and self mutilation

Death and dead bodies, of people and animals

Art and/or writing meant to be cathartic

If you identify with ANY OF THE ART/WRITINGS PRESENTED, please talk to someone you know and trust and seek psychiatric help. The things you feel, while valid, should never become a part of who you are and there are things that can be done to help you. These feelings and patterns of thought cannot and never will help you. You can be happy. You are allowed to be happy. You are allowed to heal. You are loved, and you are worth loving. I am not kidding. I am not just saying that. I love you and I want you to be happy.

Other things to know:

Yes, I do have a doctor, and yes, I am getting help. This is my equivalent of screaming into a pillow or burning letters. It helps me process my feelings and get them out of my system. If you’re bothered by this or annoyed by the never ending pity party being thrown here, that’s fair, I get you completely

You can call me Rot, Rabbit, or Bones. Most of the time, the characters presented in my art will refer to my sona as ‘rabbit.’

Why a rabbit? I don’t know, really. I like rabbits, and I used to own rabbits, and my family and friends have associated me with rabbits for a long time. Plus they’re fun to draw

Who are those characters? The one with the head of a hare is Vanilla. He isn’t meant to represent anyone in particular, but always presents the unfortunate truth. The one with spiral eyes and jagged teeth is Mischief, an old comfort character. (Will add to this list as characters become relevant)

Why make a blog for this? I don’t know, honestly. Maybe because I’m fucked up or seeking validation or struggling to connect with people or maybe I’m just so starved for attention and acknowledgement of my (honestly obnoxious and tedious) pains and woes, BUT I also hate to post this on my main and annoy or worry my friends and followers so this was a close to a compromise as I could get.

Shouldn’t you not do this? It can’t be helping you/It’s super cringe and I’m getting secondhand embarrassment. Sorry fam lmao if it helps at all I hate this shit more than you do

You’re obnoxious. You bet your ass I am. And for that I apologize skdgdjd

ANYWAY all that being said, have a good day and take care of yourself or I’ll be sad!

[wellhalesbells]

✨✨ TOP FIVES FOR 2020 ✨✨

2020 was, i think we can all agree, a massively chaotic year but i have never consumed as much media before in my life, so i thought others might benefit from my slothery uh, connoisseur.... ship?  yes, that.  below are the books, comics, shows, and movies that got me through!

B O O K S .

the starless sea, by erin morgenstern - i loooove this book because it loves me back.  it says: ‘oh, you’re a reader, well i have just the thing for you.’  it luxuriates in language and story and riddles and fairy tales and it feels like an entire library in a single tome.

they never learn, by layne fargo - oh fuuuuuck, this was satisfying.  i thought it might feel a little exploitative as it is very aware of the zeitgeist and likely would not exist without the #metoo movement but it never ever did.  this was a fucking ROMP, period.  reading about a woman getting away with murdering skeezy guy after rapey guy after shitty human just made me happier and happier.

moonflower murders, by anthony horowitz - this is the second in the susan ryeland series (and the first was hardcore good fun too) and really feels very classic mystery with the artful twist of catering to the literary community.  mainly because: susan isn’t a detective, she’s an editor and she gets drafted in this time because the clue to what happened to a missing woman is in a book she edited, if she can find it.  both of the books in this series have such an excellent coming together moment that is rare af to find.

the invisible life of addie larue, by v.e. schwab - the writing in this is just so good.  it has that feel to me where i just want to drop the book and open up my own page and let my fingers fly.  it’s that inspiring kind of writing that reminds you of all the things language can do.

crown of feathers/heart of flames, by nicki pau preto - aaahhh, this series is SO FREAKING GOOD!  why is there not more of a fandom for it, why???? it is so many of my favorite tropes all resting perfectly together to the point where you almost forget they’re tropes because they just so naturally evolved there.  ugh, it’s just.... it’s so heart-bursty good.

.... number 5, part 2?  raybearer, by jordan ifueko - this was just so original and i was invested af.  like, what a brilliant idea though and an even better execution??  i loved every character and am so looking forward to the next in the series so i can get to know them even better!!

honorable mentions (sh*t i still liked a whole heckuva lot): you/hidden bodies, by caroline kepnes // writers & lovers, by lily king // i’ll be gone in the dark, by michelle mcnamara // the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, by joseph fink & jeffrey cranor // girl, serpent, thorn, by melissa bashardoust // a little life, by hanya yanagihara // the guinevere deception, by kiersten white // obsidio (and the entire illuminae series), by amie kaufman & jay kristoff // the bone houses, by emily lloyd-jones // house of salt and sorrows, by erin a. craig // we hunt the flame, by hafsah faizal // savage legion, by matt wallace // blacktop wasteland, by s.a. cosby // crier’s war, by nina varela // the empress of salt and fortune/when the tiger came down the mountain, by nghi vo // upright women wanted, by sarah gailey // the monster of elendhaven, by jennifer giesbrecht // a deadly education, by naomi novik // you let me in, by camilla bruce // when you ask me where i’m going, by jasmin kaur // the lights go out in lychford/last stand in lychford (and the entire lychford series), by paul cornell // the devil and the dark water, by stuart turton // serpent & dove, by shelby mahurin // one by one, by ruth ware // ruthless gods (this was SUCH an upshot from the first book - it’s worth sticking with if you’re on the fence), by emily a. duncan // cemetery boys, by aiden thomas // the inheritance games, by jennifer lynn barnes // the fortunate ones (2021 release), by ed tarkington

C O M I C S .

cosmoknights, by hannah templer - the art was gorgeous, the gayness was glorious, and just.... hot HOOOOOOOOT lady knights in space?!  a princess winning her own hand?  find something not to love in there, i dare you.

don’t go without me, by rosemary valero-o’connell - wow. wow wow wow wow wow.  the writing was stunning, so lyrical and atmospheric and deep, and rosemary has to be one of my favorite artists but even that managed to come as a beautiful surprise because it was just so freaking bold.

through the woods, by emily carroll - i loooove emily carroll, the convergence of spine-tingling horror and art that feeds into it, that is both visually and aesthetically pleasing, is hard to beat!  p.s. i also read beneath the dead oak tree from her this year and it was also a BANGER.

the impending blindness of billie scott, by zoe thorogood - zoe is someone that i just want to follow.  she’s just starting and i want to be there for every single step.  i love her art style and her ability to tell a story with it.

above the clouds, by melissa pagluica - this was so unique, and such a baller concept, as nearly half the entire book is conveyed only through the art and yet you’re never once lost, never once confused as to what any character is thinking or feeling.  it’s a story within a story and only one of those gets words though they both are chock full of emotion!

um.... number 5, part 2? crowded, by christopher sebela - everything about this series is fun af.  crowd-funded assassination and a hirable bodyguard who’s rated like an uber driver???  and the chemistry between the two mains is so great and gay!!

honorable mentions: monster and the beast, by renji // long exposure, by kam ‘mars’ heyward // fence, by c.s. pacat // invisible kingdom, by g. willow wilson // ms. marvel, by g. willow wilson // heathen, by natasha alterici // not drunk enough, by tess stone // giant days, by john allison // die, by kieron gillen // be prepared, by vera brosgol // ascender (sequel to descender, which is also great), by jeff lemire // the unbeatable squirrel girl, by ryan north // bang! bang! boom!, by melanie schoen // gideon falls, by jeff lemire // life of melody, by mari costa // cry wolf girl, by ariel slamet ries // the tea dragon society, by katie o’neill // ptsd, by guillaume singelin // heartstopper, by alice oseman // solutions and other problems, by allie brosh // finding home, by hari conner // the magic fish, by trung le nguyen // something is killing the children, by james tynion iv // the weight of them, by noelle stevenson // spill zone, by scott westerfeld // skyward, by joe henderson // miles morales, by saladin ahmed

F I L M S.

parasite, dir. bong joon ho - oh it was satisfying, oh it was suspenseful, oh i had to watch some of it through my fingers but i loooooooved it.  such a good story and so well made.

knives out, dir. rian johnson - okay, everything about this movie was amazing.  every single character was fun as hell and i could’ve watched an entire movie about each of them.  what a great fucking mystery!

blindspotting, dir. carlos lopez estrada -  this made my heart hurt so damn much.  what glorious writing, acting, and story!

portrait of a lady on fire, dir. celine sciamma - gooooorgeous cinematography, amazing chemistry, and such a soft, atmospheric film.

the farewell, dir. lulu wang - i cried and my heart felt so full and i love it so so much.

um.... number 5, part 2? someone great, dir. jennifer kaytin robinson - no part of me expected to love a netflix movie this much but it’s a love story that doesn’t get told that often??  the end of a relationship and the true love of friendship and i love these girls and i love jenny and nate’s broken relationship.

honorable mentions: eighth grade, dir. bo burnham // booksmart, dir. olivia wilde // midsommar, dir. ari aster // the curse of la llorona, dir. michael chaves // the secret life of pets 2, dirs. chris renaud & jonathan del val // jojo rabbit, dir. taika waititi // the invisible man, dir. leigh whannell // the favourite, dir. yorgos lanthimos // can you ever forgive me?, dir. marielle heller // troop zero, dirs. bert & bertie // ready or not, dirs. matt bettinelli-olpin & tyler gillett // brave, dirs. mark andrews & brenda chapman & steve purcell // the half of it, dir. alice wu // palm springs, dir. max barbakow // doctor sleep, dir. mike flanaghan // uncut gems, dirs. benny sadfie & josh sadfie // birds of prey, dir. cathy van // bloodshot, dir. dave wilson // the old guard, dir. gina prince-bythewood // enola holmes, dir. harry bradbeer // hocus pocus, dir. kenny ortega // always be my maybe, dir. nahnatchka khan // finding dory, dirs. andrew stanton & angus maclane // die hard, dir. john mctiernan

S H O W S .

black sails (2014) - this show, this shooooooooow.  i cannot, it just makes me want to cry with how good it is.  the characters, the EMOTIONS, the story, the plaaaaaan.  like, the creators clearly had a plan for every single step of this show and it was a gOOD, GOOD PLAN.

the untamed (2019) - truly, cheesy good fun with one of the best gay romances ever.  i love these characters and their relationships to each other and the way it glories in its own ridiculousness.

the righteous gemstones (2019) - one of the things that bothered me about my next choice (the ratio of female to male nudity) was so much more realistic in this one (i mean, we’ve all gotten five thousand dick pics and i know like three people?  so the fact that there is so rarely male nudity in shows when there are tits everywhere..... no, how does that even make a tiny bit of sense?).  this show was such great, wonderful, awful fun.  they’re not great people and the show is under no delusion about that and it’s GLORIOUS!

the witcher (2019) - this was just hella fun, i loved the characters and the fantasy elements.  i’m excited for the next season, it’s just entertaining swashbuckling through and through!

fargo (2014) - all of this was really very enjoyable with the through line being somebody fucks shit up and gets involved in something they really shouldn’t be involved in that’s going to swallow them whole.  season one and season three were my stand-out favorites but they were all so violent, clever, and vicious!

um.... number 5, part 2? central park (2020) - um..... so many of the hamilton actors in a muscial cartoon drawn and written by the bob’s burgers team? WHAT ABOUT THAT DOESN’T SOUND AMAZING?!  it was such a joy to hear daveed diggs and leslie odom jr.’s voices again!!

honorable mentions: schitt’s creek // the mandalorian // mr. robot // broadchurch // mindhunter // jack ryan // the good place // the end of the f***ing world // big little lies // elite // kidding // servant // letterkenny // curb your enthusiasm // i am not okay with this // ozark // buzzfeed unsolved: true crime/supernatural // you // runaways // dear white people // dickinson // brooklyn nine-nine // will & grace // 9-1-1 // dead to me // solar opposites // never have i ever // killing eve // what we do in the shadows // grace and frankie // avenue 5 // roswell, new mexico // the bold type // evil // tuca & bertie // impulse // the umbrella academy // watchmen // infinity train // corporate // search party // on becoming a god in central florida // a.p. bio // criminal: uk // the morning show // mythic quest // last week tonight // prodigal son // the great

[leah-halliwell92]

The Eyes Have It

@sujusfs14499​ requested number 4 “God, your eyes are so gorgeous.” (She got long I’m sorry lol)

You couldn’t help your giddiness as adjusted your semi-casual burgundy dress a few minutes before 6. You were getting ready to not only go to dinner but a play at the Old Globe. Severus said that if they caught the viewing he had planned there would be a chance for dinner. 

You had been surprised when Severus made his way into the apothecary on the a day you were working the counter, his days are usually those you’re not in. In school you’d been his best friend, class partner (when Lily wasn’t his chosen), his champion and confidante. You’d tried to be as close to him as he’d let you and without seeming like you were a lost puppy trailing after him like he’d been doing with Lily.

Not being the last one was easier said than done, but you’d done it and it served to kick James Potter in the arse hard enough for him to realize that not everything was as it seemed. Rumor had it that during fourth year, he’d gotten it into his head that he was going to prove Sev is as evil as the rest of his house. He’d sworn he was going to once and for all expose Sev for queen and country to see and quote, “Maybe then Lily will dump him as the rat he is”. This is how you heard he’d taken time during the Christmas hols to follow Sev home.

Needless to say James got more than what he bargained for when he found where Sev lived. You knew James ever the full of himself Gryffindor thought he’d find a well off half-blood maybe pureblood from a well off family, with a past of blood supremacy., literally anything that wasn’t anywhere close to what the reality of it all was. James had cornered you upon returning to school looking like a mad man demanding to know if what he’d witnessed was true. At the time you’d not known he’d gone as far as to look for actual reason to pick on Sev more than he already did. You could still remember it.

//Flashback//

“Is it true!?” James demanded.

“Is what true? What the hell could I have that you want Potter!?” You asked struggling against the grip he had on your arm.

“Have I just been making his life doubly difficult...” he said voice breaking, “Have I truly taken it to a point where an abused child cannot find sanctuary away from his hell.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what it is he wants clarification on.

“Tell me!” He yelled in begging manner, “Please...tell me I didn’t ruin a man’s life over rumors and baseless assumptions. Please...please...”

You sigh and say, “Your jealousy and brashness is what got you into this mess. You let your belief that learning about something anything makes them a bad person.”

In a very uncharacteristic display of character for him, he fell to his knees sobs wrecking his tall frame as the realization that all the “good” he thought he was doing was actually all for naught. 

“If I were someone else I’d rub in the fact that Perfect James Potter valued seeker for Gryffindor and Prince of the Light bullied a child for being different,” you said voice cold causing him to flinch, “Not everyone who studies the dark arts is evil or are bound to become evil for studying something that interests them. Has it ever occurred to you that if the dark arts weren't studied we wouldn’t have the counters we have to help heal them? Or that potions to heal or treat without proper research done on dark curses?”

James looked ashamed and clearly at a loss. He'd finally come to the realization that he’d tormented an innocent for close to four years over nothing, just a need to learn and escape. Now that he knew the truth he didn’t know how he’d fix it or if it there was a way for him to make peace.

“What can I do to make amends?” He asked you pleadingly.

“I think that should be obvious to you,” you said crossing your arms.

He nodded to himself and said, “I know I need to stop with my actions and egging Padfoot onto continuing his own abuse.”

You nod sort of impressed but not believing he meant what he was saying.

“Maybe after a while,” he said voice low, “I can’t try to apologize.”

You nod and say, “Don’t think or believe he’ll forgive you. And do keep in mind you’ve been you've been chasing after his only friend.”

“Lily,” he said shock in his eyes, “They...”

“He loves her,” you said with a small smile on your face.

“And you him,” he said plainly.

“But this isn’t about me,” you said angrily, “So don’t you go thinking you can do to me what you’ve been doing to him. Believe you me James Potter I’ll get expelled before you go hurting me the way you did and have been doing to him. And for all the love and peace in the world, please don’t tell him how you or why you all of the sudden stopped...you won't like his response.”

He nodded and did even went as far as to promise that he’d do his best to keep Sirius in line along with Remus...the fact that he’d from the very beginning told them to leave Sev alone in the first place not withstanding. 

You heaved multiple sighs of relief the day he walked in talking animately with Remus about something. Sev told to you about how James defended him against Sirius for the first two months of the new half term. How surprised and suspicious he was but then they got to the point of being civil with each other. You hoped that it wasn't too late for some form of friendship to blossom from this. She hoped the attacks just in time to keep him from spiraling down a hole he might not be able to get himself out of. 

Sev had even introduced you to Lily! You’d wanted to size up your “competition” for a while, you’d known you weren’t anything compared to the great Lily Evans. It stung to see why it is Sev looked head over heels for her...she’s lovely to look at, she’s smart, ambitious and hard working. Not to mention they practically grew up together. 

You remembered how as the years progressed his eyes would light up at the mention of Lily his heart practically on his sleeve. You’d made it clear to him, after befriending Lily, that her love for him might not be as he wants it to be. It had taken a bit but a sit down between him and Lily revealed the warnings you’d given him...this brought to you by Lily then by James who’d been told by both Lily and Sev what had happened. 

It had gutted Sev the day James went to him as Lily’s ‘brother’ to ask for permission to court/date her. But he wanted Lily safe so he said yes to James leaving him with a warning that she’s stubborn enough to beat him should James have ulterior motives. 

You’d had a feeling that Severus had hope for her to see him even while she was with James. Hope even when she’d accepted James’ permission to court her as the purebloods of their world do. You’d drifted some from Sev in the hope that you moved on from your crush on him to no avail...

//Present Day//

The years that proceeded all the way to seventh year went by quietly if not for the whining of one Sirius Black when the second half of the school year really kicked off. Despite his trepidation, Severus took to this change in stride. After some time walking on eggshells he’d been approached by Remus to join him and James for study group one Wednesday. He’d approached you about and you tried to be as supportive as yo could without revealing why they’d approached him in the first peace offerings in hand. 

You laughed at the occurrence and remembered the time when he met you in the astronomy tower piss drunk. You’d been sitting taking notes for your class when Severus wound up and plopped himself next to you. Some slurred sweet words later and you somehow found yourself with his head on your lap your fingers brushing through his hair. And you don’t remember how it happened but somehow he’d gone from laying on your lap to kneeling in front of you his eyes caressing your face tenderly.

“God, your eyes are so gorgeous,” he said and without warning pressed a tender kiss to your lips. 

Despite your shock you’d returned it before they heard the caretaker doing rounds forcing the both of you to go your separate ways. You also remember the long crying session you had in the bathroom when he came to you asking what had happened the day before since he’d woken up with the mother of all hangovers and alcohol induced amnesia. 

You snapped back into reality at the sound of a knock at your door.

You gave yourself a look over to see you were pretty much done aside from jewelry. 

You took the black pear set and made your way to the door as the necklace hooked itself on with a twist of your wrist.

“Good evening Severus,” you said opening the door a bright smile on your face.

He greeted you same as he always did a friendly hug and peck on the cheek before offering his arm for the both of you to leave.

The evening had started off better than you’d expected it to, the evening weather was wonderful and the chosen play happened to be one of your favorites. You were trying in vane to keep your traitorous heart from swooning every time he did or said something, with a voice you were sure should be illegal, that caused your insides to melt and tried to focus on what lay ahead. This is too good to be true...you could feel it in your bones.

The first half of the play went fantastically! It all felt and looked so romantic, like some big gesture would follow at the end of the night...no. That would not happen, not to you and not with him.

As soon as the intermission came about you’d made a mad dash for the loo hoping you had time for a drink of water and a nibble before heading back in. Little did you know that what happens afterward marked the end of what was promising to be a pleasant evening.

You walked out to be met with Severus have what looked to be a very engaging conversation with the ever beautiful Lily Evans. And despite you trying to not fall down the rabbit hole of your feelings for him, it happened anyway and the result is the overwhelming feeling of disappointment and hurt that he’d still chose h is Lily flower over you. Your traitorous brain supplied you with another thought, what if he’d brought you here with him knowing she’d be there? Your heart fell deeper at this, why torture you if he wasn’t interested in you anyway?

“Funny isn’t it?” The voice of James Potter drew you from your thoughts and darkening mood.

“That we meet here by chance?” You asked weakly wrapping your arms around you. Whether it was as a form of comfort or to keep yourself together you didn’t know.

“Well not exactly,” he said cleaning his throat slightly, “I’d let him know that the Globe was hosting a variety of wonderful plays...I never told him which and what night.”

“Mmm,” you said and drew a deep breath. You would make it through the night, you could do this.

“Why is it everyone can see how you clearly still feel for him but him?” James asked honest curiosity in his eyes before he gave you a look over nodding liking what he saw, “Merlin do your eyes look gorgeous. They contrast against your dress beautifully.”

You smiled widely at this and breathed a delighted laugh. At least you looked decent enough for such an event. 

You shrugged at this but before you could say anything the smiling voice of Lily reached your ears.

“I though it was you I saw leaving the hall!”

You forced a smile on your face and greeted your friend tenderly, it wasn’t her fault Severus didn’t see you...like that.

You’d made a point to drop your defensive pose and dropped your hands to your sides. You kept an ear on what she was saying but your eyes wandered to the look of wonder on Sev’s face as he looked at her. Your eyes misted at this...at the realization that he’d never not only see you as a woman but he’d never want you either.

You felt James’ pinky wrap around your giving it a gentle supportive squeeze and calmed some. It wouldn’t do for everyone to see you break down over nothing. 

“We simply must go to dinner after the show,” Lily said smilingly. 

You wanted to flat out refuse but Severus had agreed for the both of you before you could.

“We’d be delighted,” he said charmingly voice soft, “It has been some time since we’ve had a proper catch up.”

You squeezed James’ finger and cleared your throat excusing yourself to the loo once again. 

Once in a stall, you grabbed two squares of toilet paper and carefully pressed it on the corners of your eyes the tears falling and making you feel like stupid child trailing after her best friend and his heart only to be spurned for your attempts. 

You shook with the effort of keeping your sobs from coming out and in a last ditch effort to calm down you placed your head between your knees and concentrated on your breathing. In and out...in and out...in and out.

Once calm you walked out to find yourself face to face with a clearly concerned Lily.

“I’m fine,” you said, sounding stronger than you felt despite the slight tremor in your voice.

“Then why are your eyes red?” She asked knowingly.

You shrug and inspect your miraculously still perfect makeup and said, “Had something in my eye.”

“Thestral shit,” she said, “It’s not like it seemed.”

You looked at her sadly and said, “I know...but the doesn’t mean he suddenly loves you like a brother. Magic can do a lot of things Lils, what it cannot do is interfere with the affairs of the heart.”

She nodded in sad understanding and said, “If you need a cry or to talk you know where to find me.”

You might just have to take her up on that. His greatest love or not she is still your friend. Even if her beau is the one you really need to have a chat with, he is your best friend.

You walked back arm in arm grins on your faces, hers smooth and pretty and yours forced hoping it didn’t look pain filled or worse...a wince.

The men escorted their respective ladies to their seats to finish the play. From the moment you retook your seats, you tried hard to focus on the plot. To lose yourself within the story and for a moment forget who you were sitting next to. Your attempts had proved successful until you felt calloused fingers tenderly grab your hand. Your knee jerk response was to take your hand back, there is after all no point to playing a gracious date on his behalf. The jig as they say, was up. But you left your hand in his, for what reason you didn’t know. Your heart wanted something to remember him by you supposed, but the rest of you was ready to swear at him, hit him and do horrible things just to try and get an answer for the many why's that lay at her feet. 

Why can’t you see me? Why can’t you love me? Why am I not more like Lily? Why can’t I be a ginger?... At least then you’d have something to try and get his attention with. You felt the play to your core as the pivotal point drew near. Your grip tightened some around him as the plot blossomed, your anticipation, for more than just the play, reached new heights. 

By the end of the play you’d forgotten the hurt, which suited you just fine to be able to survive dinner. So much for a date...

You weren't surprised to find James and Lily waiting on you easy smiles on their faces. As you made your way out James, bless him, commented, “If I didn’t know any better I’d have thought this to be a date by the looks of things.”

You felt Severus stiffen, had that not been the idea of this outing?

“Look at that!” Lily said pointing to the small shops that were around pulling you along without much warning.

You turned to look at the boys and froze, James looked like he was ready to commit murder while Severus was as blank and stony faced as ever.

“Face the window and pretend you look interested,” Lily said exaggerating her movements to make it look like they were having an animated conversation. 

You followed lead and said, “Well now I know his real reason for being here.”

Lily shook her shoulders, simulating laughter, and said, “I didn’t tell him James and I would be here tonight. I know James practically gave him a shove in your direction by telling him of what the Globe had in store this week.”

You nodded forcing a bright smile on your face despite the tears that lit up your eyes.

“James told me as much,” you admitted to her, “It’s just odd! I know he comes to the shop the days I’m not there, I don’t know if it’s because he’s avoiding me or because I did something. My boss told me about a week ago about a new staff member to help on a more permanent basis along with me so that could be it?”

“I’m your new co-worker,” Lily revealed looking partly guilty, “I was going to surprise you with the news next week.”

That struck a chord and all of the sudden you were laughing. Incredulous and hysterical peels fell from your lips. Lily looked on sadly as the pieced came together.

“What so funny?” James asked a smirk playing at his lips.

You looked up to find James and Severus had made their way over to where you and Lily were standing. James looked at you a knowing look on his face while Severus looked curious. 

“Lily let me know she’d be filling in the days I wouldn’t be working at the apothecary,” you say smile still in place, “I was so relieved and am so delighted to know. Sorry about the laughing, it’s just funny that we’d wind up working together in a field we both love.”

Severus glanced at you then as if he’d never known you were into potions, he should have known after seven years plus of friendship.

Not too long later, talks of getting dinner popped up. And soon enough your small group was making their way to what promised to be a cozy establishment on the muggle side of London. You’d have to make not of keeping the name in mind for next time. New memories would need to follow after this...

Severus kept your hand on his arm as he escorted you. Your mind drifted as you walked, if this had been a real date then you’d be pressing yourself to his side and putting your head on his shoulder. You would be having a meaningful conversation about anything and everything, maybe even starting the process of getting to know the adult versions of each other.

A faint grin appeared on your face at these thoughts...hope. These thoughts were your hopes personified. You “saw” his grin, “heard” his rumbled chuckles and “felt” his hand as he caressed your own on his arm on your way to dinner. 

“(Y/N)?” You heard someone call.

“(Y/N)!” You looked to find Severus looking at you worriedly, his hand on your cheek, “Are you alright?”

You gazed at him for a moment the daydream ever present. It would have been so easy to fall on that...but that wasn’t the truth. 

“I’m alright Sev,” you say with a grin, “Probably more peckish than I thought.”

He looked like he didn’t believe you and was about to say more when Lily brought your attention by proclaiming they’d arrived at the bistro they had in mind. 

//Time Skip//

Dinner went as you’d expected it to catching up, memories from Hogwarts, slight talk of the future. You felt Severus stiffen again when James and Lily ask the both of you not only to come to their wedding but to be a part of the wedding party as well. You nodded with a bright smile truly happy for them before covering up a “yawn” giving away that you were “tired”. 

Thankfully this gave Severus a reason to take you home. The bill was split and paid, you bid your friends a good night after promising to owl. In Lily’s case in the morning to plan for lunch during the week. 

Severus and you apparate into your living room from an empty alleyway. You gave him a, hopefully convincing, grin as you stepped away from him to take off your shoes.

“Can I get you anything before you head out?” You asked more out of courtesy than actually fish to have him stay.

He gave you a strange look.

“What?” You asked curiously. 

You’d thought he’d wanted to leave as soon as the evening came to a close. It isn’t as if he doesn’t have anything to do the next day. And to your surprise your boss needed you to come to the store in the afternoon.

“Are you alright?” He asked neutrally. 

“Yes,” you said, honest but trying not to seem as emotionally drained as you felt, “Why?”

“You’ve been out of it as they say most of the evening,” he said going to stand where you were putting your purse and wrap away.

‘That happens when your feelings for someone else become more apparent,” you thought to yourself feeling more than a little emotionally drained.

“I’m probably still a bit shocked from being asked about being asked to be part of Lily’s wedding party,” you said shrugging with a small smile.

He gave a chuckle at that but he knew there was more to that.

You resisted the urge to cross your arms over your middle in a defensive pose and waited for him to reply to that.

“I never thought he’d ask me to be part of his merry band of misfits,” he said clearly feeling awkward.

“I loved the play,” you said not knowing how to get him to leave without seeming rude.

“Maybe we can go see one again sometime?” He asked eyes brightening.

You wanted to sigh and scream and shake him to see you. Yell in his face that you were right there...if only he’d give himself and you a chance but you didn’t. 

“Maybe,” you said vaguely, “It’s getting late, tomorrow I have to go into the apothecary for something staff related.”

Severus nodded at this and went to apparate out when he turned to you once again and surprised you by pressing a kiss to your forehead and saying, “I was right that night in the Astronomy tower...you really do have the most gorgeous eyes.”

[chaoticspacefam]

OC Music Meme

I was tagged for this by @actualanxiousswampwitch ! Thank you & sorry it took so long, didn’t have time to write this out before I left for holiday stuff so here we go! I shall tag: @actualanxiousswampwitch (go on give us another one XD), @a-muirehen​ , @kyber-heart​ , @thedinalixlegacy​ (no pressure as always, I know I’m kinda late now sksjkshskhs!) and anyone else who wants to do this, yes, I promise I mean you!

art is by @ ocellifera on deviantART! :D

Let’s do Aria this time, shall we! Since her playlist is the second-longest, and her and Vano’s ship playlist is the longest, we’ll have the most (probable options! Long post so goin’ under a cut. Additional TW’s for: drugs, alcohol, alcoholism, drug addiction and murder, in case I’ve forgotten to add it to the song-specific sections. If you click past this cut, know that this is what you may find there.

reminds you of them most: It was super hard to pick just three for hers, there were so many others I wanted to include here, but couldn’t, as I wanted to make sure I included songs that covered as much of her over-arching characterisation as I could. Honourable mentions to: Miss Jackson - Panic! At The Disco feat. LOLO, Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) - Fall Out Boy, Beekeeper - Keaton Henson, and Bones Of A Rabbit - Young Heretics, which can all be found (and more) on her Spotify Playlist - catch-all warning for: sex, drugs, violence and murdering of parents applies here, be aware her playlist is very dark, just as dark as Rai’s but with differing subject matter, proceed with caution if you find anything like that triggering!)

You’re Going Down - Sick Puppies :: This one is kinda self-explanatory. I heard it on a Spotify or Youtube shuffle at some point a year or so ago and immediately went “Oh, hey Aria!” so onto her playlist it went XD “Because I'm hyped up out of control If it's a fight, I'm ready to go I wouldn't put my money on the other guy If you know what I know that I know.”  don’t mess with the Tiny Sith, guys, she will put you in the medbay. She’ll do it, she’s done it before ask Vano what happened to the last guy *nods*

Liar - The Arcadian Wild :: This is a relatively “new” song in comparison, which was sent to me by a good rp/writer friend on Discord (who afaik doesn’t have other socials!) that I often discuss plot points etc. with among other things, saying “hey this reminded me of Aria thought you’d like it!”. I listened to it and yep, sure enough, it’s an Aria song. A big part of Aria’s character is that at the start, she really is quite a bad person. She’s nasty, and cantankerous and she really doesn’t care about anybody except for herself (and maybe her dad. A tiny bit.), as things progress, however, while she is still inherently quite rude and selfish, she DOES learn to value other people...provided they are people she cares about, like Vano, and her friends, and so on,  as well as (sometimes, she’s working on it still) taking the blame for her own actions and learning it’s not “weak” or bad to a) admit you care about people, b) make mistakes and c) admit those mistakes and take responsibility for them. "I sense there’s trouble ahead, it’s clear by the signs and warnings. That should tell where all blame is due, So why are they pointing at MY head? [...] I sense deception to come. Honestly, truth and I are never one. 'Cause I am the lying man and I have made you my next victim. I need you to see through my act, to tell me I'm wrong, to take off the mask, or else I'll be left in the lie. And I'll deceive my way straight to demise! Cause I’m not in the right state of mind, I just wish I had strength to admit it. My stubbornness will put up a fight! But I don’t deserve to win it... I’m left in the dark, pondering my mistakes But in the light I swear I will, deny it all...” 

I didn’t mean to post like half the song but woops it’s done so have it anyway lmao

Brutus - The Buttress :: TW: intense violent imagery in the lyrics. This one is very relevant but contains spoilers for upcoming and as of yet unposted/incomplete chapters (as in...like 3 ish chapters time at most) of Creeping Shadows, so I’ll post this quote as “explanation” and let you theorize who it’s about

“My name is Brutus and my name means “heavy” So with a heavy heart I'll guide this dagger into the heart of my Enemy! My whole life you were a teacher and friend to me Please know my actions are not motivated only by envy I too have a destiny! This death will be art! The people will speak of this day from near and afar This event will be history, And I'll be great too! I don't want what you have, I wanna be you!!“

reminds another character of them:

Where’s My Love? - SYML :: (Vano) I think the acoustic version is especially emotional : ))) Vano looked for her for years but couldn’t find her and genuinely thought Aria was dead. You can understand why she was so fucking angry when she found out that was a lie...but at the same time, she just wanted her love to come home :( “Did she run away? Did she run away? I don't know If she ran away, If she ran away, Come back home Just come home“

Mothers - Daughter :: (Myla, her mother) “Love all you need to love before it goes... When your face becomes a stranger’s that I don’t know. You will never remember who I was to you [...] I’m called “mother”, but they’re called “home”.”

Myla raised Aria for the first few years of her life, and really wanted to keep her away from both the Jedi and the Sith but as it became more and more clear that Aria’s Force affinity was as strong as her father’s, the situation rapidly spiralled out of Myla’s control. She tried to hide Aria, but in the end her father Noctis did find them and take Aria to train with the Sith. She didn’t see her daughter again until she was a teenager, suddenly turning up with the task to kill her for treason against the Empire (Myla is not the canon Imp Agent, but follows the general trajectory of the LS!Agent storyline i.e. an agent disillusioned with the Empire who eventually defects to the Republic with the help of the SIS.). Though she’s a Senator on Onderon now, Myla carried a blaster for personal protection and ofc knows how to use it, except...she couldn’t shoot her own daughter and that was all she wrote. I imagine her thought process during her final moments went something like in this song, especially the bit that I highlighted up there.

reminds you of a relationship of theirs, doesn’t have to be romantic, can be paternal, friendly, etc:

Tongues & Teeth - The Crane Wives :: Aria & Vano (Romantic). Aria’s relationship with Vano is incredibly messy and complicated. On one hand, she knows Vano deserves better, but at the same time she doesn’t want her to go anywhere else and it seems like no matter what she does to try and “warn her off” about what a “bad person” she is, Vano keeps coming back anyway. Ergo, this song. "Oh, I will ruin you. I will ruin you. It’s a habit...I can’t help it. I know that you mean so well, but I am not a vessel for your good intent. I will only break your pretty things, I will only wring you dry of everything! But if you’re fine with that, if you’re fine with that [...] You can be mine.”

Colours - Halsey :: Aria & Merak & Ziri (Friendship/Platonic Love) “You’re only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope, I hope you make it to the day you’re 28 years old...”

Aria “coped” (i.e. not very well but she did it) with the guilt of killing her mother and the stress brought on by the night terrors by self-medicating with glitterstims (spice) and alcohol, and this is how Merak in particular remembers her. Though she got clean from spice after they picked up Ziri, she still continued to drink (and still does) quite heavily, though at least it’s easier to manage that habit. Both of them supported her through this the best they could and it’s probably a big reason (other than Merak being Vano’s little brother) that they’re still Aria’s friends to this day, even if she doesn’t actively travel with them anymore.

(honourable mention to Agnes - Glass Animals which also falls under this “category” but I didn’t want this to get too crowded lmao, it is once again a super long post woops) You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid - The Offspring :: Aria & Roan/Darth Noctis (Familial/Familial Love) Listen, he may have taught her very bad emotional habits and turned her into a tiny attack dog, but her father did love & protect her the best way he possibly could. He was very proud of her and always envisioned her taking his place as a Darth one day (and it takes her a longass while, but eventually she does! Congrats dad!). That’s all I’ve got to say about this one 🤷‍♀️ Monster - Willyecho :: Aria & Satele Shan/The Jedi Order (Enemies to Begrudging Respect (eventually) “I can see the truth. No, you don’t have to lie to me. Don’t fill your head with things and think you’re free~ [...] You don’t believe in monsters, do you~?” ”Of course not!” ”Well, I do...” See me change...into something...darker....” My personal favourite from this “round”. It’s not until Ilum that Satele and the Jedi finally realise they have not “converted” Aria as they thought they did, but rather...they’ve had a Sith hiding under their noses, a Sith related to a Dark Councillor well-known for murdering Jedi no less, and that perhaps...the “deaths” she had convinced them were accidental, were in fact, not an accident at all. 😈 Aria, of course, gets her ass thrown in jail for a few years for this lmao When the schtick with the Revanites happens and Theron needs someone who can “negotiate in a civil manner with Sith”, he and his mother agree Aria is the best bet - if it works, the Sith will respond more positively to her than any other Jedi, if they kill her instead then they’re “rid of” her and don’t lose one of their own - when Lana’s point-of-contact happens to be Vano and the pair reunite after another several years apart, Aria refuses to return to the Republic after Yavin IV. By then, she’s developed enough of a begrudging respect for Satele (and vice versa) that the Grand Master lets her go (not that she was willing to try and fight Vano, Ni’kasi, Marr & Lana to try and take Aria prisoner again anyways). They haven’t seen each other since and though Aria is neutral to the Jedi who have joined the Alliance, she doesn’t care for those who are still loyal to the Republic and would rather have nothing to do with them if she can help it.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I've been listening to THATW on your recommendation & loving it. Battle Cries keeps getting stuck in my head and I was curious about your take on the lyrics. To me, especially coming at the end of the album, it seems like maybe it's about growing apart & realising that's for the best rather than being sad ("this isn't a breakup dear heart, it's a season finale") or maybe the singers are at the end of their lives & facing that end to their relationship? I'd love to hear your thoughts/analysis.

Me: GUYS I’M DOING ANOTHER TAD SONG ANALYSIS

My Friends: You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.

Please keep in mind as I go down this rabbit hole conduct this analysis that art is what you interpret it to be. So whatever it means to you is a valid interpretation, and this is just my own take on it. Here is my ranting analysis of Farewell Wanderlust, for those of you who are wondering why this lovely person is trusting me, a certified feral bastard, with literary discussion.

That dealt with, that’s tackle the three layers of analysis here. Yes, I said three. Buckle up buttercups.

(Listen if a joke is funny the first time it’s funny every time.)

Okay, so level one: analysis separate from any other piece of work. This is where you look at the art (in this case song lyrics) and examine it purely on its own merit, not by looking at background or connection to other texts. If we just look at the lyrics, what do they say and what do they mean?

PART THE FIRST

Unlike Marbles, which tells us a very easy-to-follow story of a relationship, even giving us a handy-dandy year of meeting (I’ve held your hand since 1979), Battle Cries doesn’t give us solid details to fix on. We have to fill in the blanks a lot, which is obviously deliberate given that Marbles and Little Miss Why So (from their previous album Love Run) have shown us that the band knows how to be specific and grounding in telling us a story. If they’ve left things abstract, it’s on purpose.

From the very first lyric, we’re shown two people at odds, as they sing wildly different words:

“I’m at the brink, don’t laugh,

at the winks I’ve masked.”

vs.

“The wrinkles and bricks that we’re left with at last,”

They’re even singing at a different pace from one another. The man is more upbeat, faster, and his notes go up and down. The woman is slower, more deliberate, and her notes are closer together. This pattern continues through the song - the man is all over the scale and moves faster, the woman is slower and her voice stays even.

The central conflict here seems to be over the singers differing on what they feel is important, culminating in, “we were gods” vs “we were kids.” We have references to specific events where the signers acknowledge that they understand one another, even if they don’t agree:

“You’ve a knack For applause from the back of the stalls but you lack The conviction to look at me straight and say yes”

vs

“Some fictions we took to mean fate believe me I know”

and

“Tell the truth to me love, does my hair look as nice As it did when you once tied it up in your eyes? Look at me as you say this, don’t look at your phone.”

There are continued references to things that they’ve done, such as “but we sunk into water...” and “our devils broke ranks, and out of the depths came an army.” They’ve been through a lot together, these two people, and most of it is metaphorical, you assume... but there’s also the theme of playing pretend, making believe, with repeated references to devils, kings, monsters, pirates, and all the rest. The line between fiction and reality is blurred strongly here, as we’ve seen in their other songs like That Unwanted Animal.

The woman appears to be a performer, since the man sings that she “dragged us along to watch all of your shows.” The man could be a performer, but he refused: “and by God, love, believe me, I wanted to play, too, I did.”

The lyrics the woman sings imply that she throws herself into things wholeheartedly while the man holds himself back - which has become a problem, given the lyrics they’re singing at each other. This is ironic because the woman’s lyrics might imply that, but her voice is the more deliberate and grounded one, while the man, the one singing the lyrics that imply holding himself back, is the one with his voice jumping all over the place.

The woman embraces her power and lack of restraint and proclaims we were gods. The man acknowledges that they were young and lost and didn’t know what they were doing, reminding her we were kids.

And both of them are right.

They’re also both constantly trying to counsel each other. A good moment that highlights their differing views is here:

Done with your dreams, they won’t last Thirty winters will pass, you’ll look back at the woman fifty year old you will be proud to have known.

vs

Cos that sun that beams down as my hands touch the grass After summers of fasting I feel hunger at last For the person fifteen year old me would be proud to have known.

One of them is putting aside dreams, and looking towards the future and saying, I want to be someone that future me is proud of.

The other, however, is focusing on how they feel in the present moment, on how they feel alive (this lyric of feeling hunger at last is also possibly a callback to Wild Blue Yonder’s “tried my best to get thinner” and Farewell Wanderlust’s “when your mom says ‘you look healthy’ but you know she means you got fat”) and saying, I want to be someone my teenage self would admire.

This also highlights how the woman seems detached from reality. She’s all about make-believe, dreams, the future. The man is more focused on the here and now, the past, what was and what is. And again, neither person is wrong here. But their differences are bringing them into conflict as seen from different lyrics and rhythms.

But there is, however, a lack of goodbye. The lyrics show an understanding of one another, and there are moments where they share the same lyrics. The line, “this isn’t a break up, dear heart, it’s a season finale” is very telling because it’s a season finale.

Season vs. series, real quick - series means the entire end of a show. Not coming back. It’s the final ending. But season? That just means it’s time for a break. We’ll be back. It’s a conclusion of an arc but not the conclusion of a story.

So the couple isn’t saying goodbye forever. They’re just saying this is the end of one arc. One part of the story. And now we’re taking a pause, and then we’re going to tell the rest, be the rest, presumably together. Especially because just previous to this the woman said she’s not leaving without a fight, and the man said he’s not going to let her turn their last night into this. They’re not going to be gone from each other forever.

In fact, one could (if one was so inclined) call this one of the fights that the couple from Marbles had. Both songs have a very similar feel to them. So you could very well view it that way. This isn’t a look at the story of an entire relationship, this is a look at one specific part of it. And again, this isn’t a painful breakup song. We see that in the chorus:

But that breathing you hear don't mistake it for sighs, Don’t you realize - They’re just battle cries, dear. And these lines aren’t wrinkles, dear heart. (Hardly knew the words) They’re just dollops of paint on a new work of art! (I’m dolled up love don’t I deserve to just) And as I walk away I know, I’ve been through the wars, But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause.

There’s no pain. There’s no sighing. No screams. Not wrinkles for age. There’s an embracing of it all, a joy found in things that might otherwise cause sadness. It’s saying don’t worry, this is all good. But there’s nothing about goodbye, it’s more “look at what I’ve been through and I’m glad of it, I’m okay with it.”

I also think it’s telling that the song ends with just one singer performing.

All it took to unearth in the dust and the dirt Some release or respite from the heat and the hurt Was taking the time now and then to ask how I am And now at the end, at the end of all things, I’m not going to scream, beat my chest at the wind, I’m doing fine.

That’s a callback to The Rockrose and the Thistle, both lyrically and in how the singer’s performing it (his voice is almost exactly the same, quick, someone compare the musical notes for me).

Basically, yes, there is a sense of something ending, but it’s not The End. The end of university was not the end of your life. The end of childhood was not an end to your life. And so on. It feels more like the end of a phase - both in this couple’s relationship (but again, season finale, I don’t think it’s the end of their relationship completely) - and in their lives. They’re phasing out of a certain stage. But the lyrics say explicitly “this isn’t a breakup” and we need to trust that.

I think, looking at these lyrics, that Battle Cries is about facing the end of a certain period of your life, whatever that period is, and embracing both the frustrating and the wonderful about it, and looking at both your own flaws and the flaws of your partner, and maybe needing to take a break - but knowing that it’s not the end, and that you’re going to be okay. It’s about self-reflection as well as reflecting on a relationship. It’s taking a small step back and observing yourself from a slight distance. Getting philosophical with a bottle of wine.

Basically this feels like the end of act two, not the end of the entire play. Does that make sense? Am I making sense to anyone?

However, that is just the FIRST LAYER of analysis. There are two more. Because just one layer of meaning would be too simple, apparently, for a certain British bastard. Not naming names here, mostly because I don’t need to, we all know what life-ruining motherfucker I’m referring to.

So, the second level here is not Battle Cries as a song on its own, but Battle Cries as the final song on an album.

PART THE SECOND

The Amazing Devil did this with their previous album, Love Run, as well. They’re fond of using the first song as an introduction that lulls you into a false sense of security and using the final song as not just a culmination of all the other songs on the album but as a callback. Not Yet/Love Run on the same-titled album contains direct lyrics from the previous songs embedded into the background, and also serves as an emotional crescendo of all that the previous songs in the album were touching on (mainly depression, romantic relationships, and ‘what the fuck am I supposed to do now’).

With Battle Cries, we get the same thing.

First and easiest is double lyrics that sometimes conflict. We saw this in Wild Blue Yonder most predominantly, where the man was being the more dramatic of the two and the woman was kind of talking him down and being more pragmatic. Even though there’s not as much conflict in their lyrics as in Pruning Shears from Love Run, that conflict is still there - and is done, again, in Battle Cries.

There are also smaller, more specific lyrical callbacks:

“And these plates they smash like waves” = That Unwanted Animal (and these plates they smash like waves/throw the plate at the wall)

“And the wine stains hide the tears” = Farewell Wanderlust (but like rubbing wine stains into rugs it’s my curse, to try and make it right, but by trying make it worse)

“The wrinkles and bricks we’re left with at last” - Marbles (your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep but a place for crows to rest their feet) and Wild Blue Yonder (every brick you hurled I’ll use to build)

“But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause” = That Unwanted Animal (and if we join our hands in prayer enough to God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause)

Aside from these direct lyrical callbacks, there’s the emotional tone.

In the very first song on the album, The Rockrose and the Thistle, we have the theme of helping someone - someone who might not necessarily be good at accepting your help. The lyrics, however brief, give the impression of night (when you call to me asleep) and a foreboding seaside (up the ragged cliffs I scramble).

In Battle Cries, we once again get lyrics that give us the impression of the seaside, through allusions to pirates (more on that in the third section). But instead of nighttime, and danger, the lyrics give us the impression of light and warmth:

“Now the wind is so warm on the back of my neck As I walk with the sun hand in hand from the wreck”

Wreck, again, suggests a shipwreck (most other acts of destruction we call crashes i.e. car crash, ‘wreck’ is almost exclusively used for ships) which suggests the ocean. But in TR&TT all is dark and uncertain, and it’s told from the point of view of the helper, who is trying to assist someone who’s struggling. In Battle Cries, we go from darkness to light, and it’s the point of view of the person being helped, saying that all they needed to feel better was having someone take “the time now and then to ask how I am.” We’ve gone full circle.

That final bit could also be a callback to Welly Boots, where the singer talks of someone “screaming far too loud to hear me swear” and running out into an impending thunderstorm. In Battle Cries, the line is,

“I’m not gonna scream, beat my chest at the wind. I’m doing fine.”

Again, a POV shift from a previous song to no longer be the person sung about, but the person doing the singing, and no longer in a position of distress, but a position of acceptance and moving forward.

Also if someone who like actually can talk about music as opposed to just lyrics could help me the fuck out here I know there are musical similarities between The Horror and the Wild and Battle Cries, and I’m pretty sure between Marbles and Battle Cries too, but I still can’t fucking read music and once described a note in a song to a friend as, “it sounds too Idina Menzel and you need to make it sound more Florence Welch” and so I am not the person to be discussing this but I FUCKIN’ KNOW THE SIMILARITIES ARE THERE I CAN FEEL IT I JUST DON’T HAVE THE ABILITY TO ARTICULATE IT.

Anyway.

So, Battle Cries is not only a standalone work but a culmination of the emotional journey that the album has taken you on. You’ve moved through songs about needing help and being unable to receive it/seeing someone you love needing help and being unable to give it (TR&TT, Welly Boots), songs about hiding from your demons and having a fun time being in a sexual relationship with someone you have to say goodbye to and move on from and while we’re at it let’s say “fuck it” (Wild Blue Yonder), to screaming about our failures and how people have failed us (Farewell Wanderlust, Welly Boots), to more sex and oh let’s throw spirituality and God in there (That Unwanted Animal), going full-on feral and taking on all comers (THATW) and then finding joy and the profound in the little moments with those we love without censorship or rose-colored glasses (Fair, Marbles).

Battle Cries is bittersweet not only because of its standalone lyrics but because it is embracing the bitter, wild fury of certain songs in the album and the sweet, soft love of the other songs. It’s combining them. And then, in its final moments, it’s taking a deep breath and releasing it all: “I’m doing fine.”

The band clearly chooses, with extreme care, the order in which their songs are to be played. While certain songs like Wild Blue Yonder and Pruning Shears could very well be the kind of songs you hear on the radio, and all the songs are good as standalones, there is an extra layer of emotional depth when you listen to them in the order the band intended. The number one thing people tell me when they listen to TAD for the first time is, “I get a musical feel. It reminds me of a particular kind of musical.” I’ve gotten a lot of comparisons to Hadestown, which, fun fact, started not as a musical but as a concept album in 2010. And I think that’s because people are picking up on the fact that the entire album is a journey that the listener is carefully being led on, and the final song draws it all together in a bittersweet, triumphant end note.

Not Yet/Love Run at the end of their last album did the same thing, which brings me to my final level of analysis: Battle Cries as the spiritual successor of Not Yet/Love Run.

PART THE THIRD

The first and most obvious comparison is the lyrics. In Not Yet, we have a theme of fighting an enemy and playing make-believe, being pirates:

“Sing me awake with a song about pirates,” “you point I’ll steer and we’ll rip up the map by the seems,” “it’s time to fight don’t be yellow bellied, hold the bar at Hurley's hurly burly's give ‘em hell give ‘em hell.”

In Battle Cries we have much the same thing:

“‘Come at me you blaggards’, you’d yell from the banks Wielding words against make-believe wizards and tanks”

There is a lyrical theme of pirate-speak and make believe, playing games. (In fact the next line in Battle Cries is “and by God, love, believe me, I wanted to play, too, I did,” referencing both playing make-believe and playing music.)

Not Yet and Battle Cries both blur the line between what is real and what is pretend, with the woman singer being much more willing to throw herself into imagination and the man being more cautious, more realistic. Both feature the woman in a fighting mood (“where is God, ma?”/“I won’t leave without a fight”) and the man more grounded and accepting (“I held your hand as you shook in the middle of the night”/“I’m not gonna scream, beat my chest at the wind”).

And both times, in both songs, both singers have a point. Neither one is fully right or wrong. That fighting spirit in the woman in good, but so is the acceptance and grounded attitude of the man.

Both Not Yet and Battle Cries also have the lyrical dance, where the man and woman sing different lyrics that overlap, and then occasionally come together and sing the same thing. It’s moments of understanding in between moments of disparity, which, really, isn’t that what every relationship is like? You’re never going to be in sync with your lover, friend, family member, all the time. But when you do come together, it’s fantastic.

Not Yet/Love Run is basically two songs in one, and so the Love Run portion is separate from the Not Yet portion in my analysis. Love Run is about fighting, but not fighting to get away from something, not fighting out of anger, but running towards something and fighting for love. There is, in Love Run, an acceptance that things can be shit, but we’re gonna keep running anyway:

“It’s not from what we run that drums, but what’s to come,” “run to show that love’s worth running to,” “though some would harm you, none, not one, no none, would raise to you, a hand nor thumb, not while by you I stand and hum.”

In Battle Cries, we get a similar acceptance and a reaffirmation that love, care, and compassion are what keeps us going:

“And as I walk away I know I’ve been through the wars, But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause,”

“All it took to unearth in the dust and the dirt, Some release or respite from the heat and the hurt, Was taking the time now and then to ask how I am.”

Both Love Run and Battle Cries take the lyrics of their previous songs in the album and rework them, echo them, and then stand tall and say, “but it’s going to be okay, dear heart.” And Battle Cries emotionally and lyrically deliberately echoes Not Yet earlier on in its lyrics, and then emotionally (though not quite as lyrically) deliberately echoes Love Run at its end.

I could keep going on the details of this but this is fuckin’ long enough already and you all are smart people with an insane amount of time on your hands thanks to quarantine so I’m sure you guys can extrapolate further from here. Battle Cries plays the same role in THATW that Not Yet/Love Run plays in LR, therefore, there is a thematic and emotional similarity between both songs, therefore, lyrical comparisons and callbacks to Not Yet/Love Run were placed in Battle Cries.

IN CONCLUSION

This song is operating on three levels. It’s operating as a standalone piece of work, it’s operating as the culmination of a collection of work, and it’s operating as a successor/callback to the final piece in a previous collection of work by the same artists.

You’re going to find themes in the work of every artist, conscious and unconscious. I can tell you right now that my original novels have a strong theme of dreaming - dreams as power, dreams as prophecy, dreams as manifestation of our fears and our subconscious, dreams as escapism. It’s a theme I at first did subconsciously and now, as a writer with a better sense of self-awareness, one that I utilize consciously.

Good artists recognize their personal themes and turn them into leitmotifs. They harness what they’re already subconsciously expressing and wield it as a tool. It takes a very skilled artist to take those themes and use them the way TAD does with all of their work but especially with Battle Cries. There is a deliberate awareness of what they’re doing and the words they’re wielding. Battle Cries is an ending that knows it’s an ending in the best kind of way, one that says not all endings are bad, here, let us show you.

And that’s what makes it so brilliant.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Feast: Lu Mingfei

Part Nine of the Wedding of Carli and Johann. Please Enjoy! :D

-------------------

Mingfei held his wrapped box in front of him.

He actually had money to spend on a gift. He wanted to make it a good one. He knew she liked to cook. He also know what a serious person Johann Chu could be. So he purchased kitchen utensils that would be funny.

Refrigerator magnets shaped like funny cats. A sponge caddy that was an open mouthed frog. Ice trays in the shape of penguins. Salt and Pepper shakers in the shape of fish.

Little things that would bring a bit of humor in their lives. 

Now as he stood in front of Carli, she wasn’t smiling. He could feel she was upset in his own heart. Ever since he came from Japan his soulbond with her had gotten very sensitive to her mood. “What’s happened? Where’s Johann?”

“He said he would take care of it...” Carli looked to the side and he followed her gaze across the ballroom toward the table where the Executive Department members were seated.

Johann was talking to Professor Schneider, the department head. The conversation seemed a bit serious.

“Oh... well, don’t worry about it then!” He turned back to her smiled brightly setting the box on the table to draw her attention away from the drama. “You know how he is. He’s thorough! You’ll be fine!”

He pushed the box toward her, she frowned a little holding out her hand to take it. “Anyway. Here’s your gift. I know you’ll like it.”

He eyes still shifted to Johann who was bowing to the Professor. “Thank you! I’ll open this one first.” She looked up at him, her smile becoming a bit more genuine. 

Mingfei gave her a thumbs up.

She brushed her hands behind her skirt to sit down again. Johann was returning. Her eyes widened a bit as he sat down and leaned over to whispered into her ears. 

“What?” She looked up at him in shock. “But...”

He murmured into her ear again.

For a moment, they both stared into each others eyes. Then she smiled and relaxed, wiping her eyes. “Ok.”

When she relaxed, a knot loosened in Mingfei’s chest. Whatever was wrong, Chu Zihang really had taken care of it. The gold eyed senior glanced up at him. “Move along Mingfei, you’re holding up the line.”

“Oh! Haha... right.” He gave an apologetic glance behind him at the glaring people in line and stepped aside. He walked backward, waving at the happy couple, staggering into a waiter who gave him an annoyed look. He turned and chuckled nervously. “Sorry!”

He glance over his shoulder embarrassed. Carli laughed.

 He made his way to the buffet tables on the second day of non-stop feasting at Cassell College. A crimson and crispy whole roast pig spread like a mountain in the center, ringed by lit candles and fruit. Cheeses had been flown in from around the world and sliced into rings, placed on hand made thin crackers and topped with aged European ham. Each guest could be treated to their own individual roast quail or braised rabbit. These were served with silky potato puree, crisp salads and savory roast vegetables.

Mingfei piled his plate vertical and found a seat next to Fingel who was already half way through his first serving. He dabbed his napkin delicately against his lips. His grey eyes shifted to Mingfei.

The younger man tore off a piece of rabbit leg with his teeth. Fingel expertly cracked and removed a whole chunk of white flesh from a crab claw and bit into it. They matched each other bite for bite, gnawing to the bone and sopping the juices up with bread.

They hadn’t eaten all day in preparation for this meal and were exhausted after carrying that palanquin to the ceremony. They dove at the feast like a hungry wolves fearful that someone might come and snatch their food away, piling bones and peels and rinds on a plate in front of them.

They raised their glasses of wine and downed it in one gulp. 

Finger chuckled. “So, South Korea ‘ey brother?” Finger grinned. 

“Shhh, keep your voice down, no one’s supposed to know that yet!” Mingfei glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

“You’re only what... a D rank for physical strength? You’re pretty brave!” Fingel gave him a knowing look.

“Huh?” Mingfei frowned.  “Huh?”

“Huh?” Fingel mocked his tone of voice. “So you’re not going there for their intense physical training in Martial Arts? You’re not going there to study Tae Kwon Do and Shim Gum Do?” He leaned forward. “South Korea has some of the most hard core physical training regiments in the entire Secret Society!”

“Aaaaahhhh...” Mingfei let out a high pitched little squeak.  “No?”

He was interrupted by the sound of applause. Carli and Johann and moved out onto the dance floor of Norton hall. A live orchestra of about twelve players raised their instruments.

Mingfei knew Carli and Johann could both dance, but he’d never seen them dance together. From the very first note and the very first step, Carli and Johann glided across the floor in a perfect Viennese waltz. She leaned securely in his arms. Her eyes were fixed on his eyes in a way only an S-Ranked hybrid could be. Her expression was one of pure devotion. 

Mingfei felt his heart stir with envy. He tamped it down with hope. He was going to South Korea to find a woman with fiery red hair, pale skin and crimson eyes. 

This woman couldn’t speak to him but when she looked at him, her expression was just like Carli’s. For a moment, his imagination took him and, in his heart, he was on the dance floor too, effortlessly spinning with Erii in his arms.

[sunlightbabe]

to freeze or to thaw

pairing: lucy x reader a/n: in this house, we love vampires 365 days a year babes. vampy hours are 24/7, we are ALWAYS down to clown with the undead. and what’s better than post-halloween vampires??? wlw vampires. as always, special shoutout to @bensrhapsody​ for letting me throw ideas at her and for being incredibly supportive, luv u it’s a vampire fic, so it gets a little dark, so trigger warnings for: mentions of blood, murder, minor character death, and a passing mention of the possibility of physical abuse. there’s no smut, but there’s some sExUaL tEnSiOn and wandering hands, so for my own peace of mind, i’m considering this 18+ summary: Desperate and running out of time, you wander from the safety of your town to seek help from the fabled monster that resides in the ruins of Boynton Manor.

A pair of dark oak doors loomed ominously before you. In the flickering light of your lantern, you could make out the ornately carved details in the wood: jagged spirals and harsh, interconnecting lines that had, at one point, surely formed an elegant design, but time had withered it into a sharp and splintered distortion of what it once was. You pulled your shawl closer to your body to fend off a shiver that trickled down your spine- a shiver that had little to do with the cool autumn air and everything to do with the task ahead of you.

You carefully set your lantern down beside you, candle light dancing across the leaf strewn steps, and pushed against one of the great doors, having to lean your entire weight against it for the door to even budge. The hinges groaned from disuse as the door slowly pushed open and it hit the inner wall with a loud and resounding thud.

With a trembling hand, you picked up the lantern once more and took a step forward to stand in the doorway.

Behind you, the thick forest that encircled your small, isolated village. In-front of you, darkness. Stillness surrounded you on both sides as if the night itself was holding its breath to see what you would do.

It wasn’t too late to turn back and yet you knew, in your heart, that no matter how badly you wanted to turn and run back to the safety of your home, you couldn’t.

You channeled your fleeting inner strength and lifted the lantern higher, arm crossing over the threshold. In the flickering light, you could just make out the faded wallpaper on the walls and the bottom steps of a grand wooden staircase. Everything else was hidden in shadow.

“Hello?” you called out, voice echoing across the foyer. You were met with a resounding and nearly suffocating silence. You swallowed the lump that had gathered in your throat and tried once more, eyes sweeping around the darkness, trying to spot any movement, any thing at all. “P-Please excuse me for intruding and- and disturbing your resting place, Countess, but I-I have come to ask for your aid.”

There was no response from the fabled Countess of Boynton Manor.

You and every other child in your village had grown up hearing the tales of the monster that lived on the outskirts of town, hidden away in the dilapidated ruins of the manor. The adults would warn you all that children who misbehaved would be taken away by the monster, dragged through the woods and into that accursed building, where they would never be heard from again. The threat hung over all of your heads throughout your childhood and you remembered many sleepless nights as you laid perfectly still in bed, the bones of your knuckles jutting against your skin as you held onto your blanket, eyes wide in fright as you watched the window for a passing, monstrous shadow.

The Boynton Beast wasn’t the only monster that plagued your easily influenced imagination. While the Boynton Beast would target those who misbehaved, the Witch of Richdale would snatch up children who didn’t finish their chores and would force them to work in her frog-legged hut. The Banshee of the Eastern River would feast on the eyes of children who wandered too far from home after the sun had set and everyone knew that the Black Dogs hunted down children who lied to their parents.

But while you had outgrown the other stories, and had come to realize what they really were, elaborate ploys by the adults to get you all to behave, the whispered tales of the Boynton Beast followed you into your teenage years.

Each step against the marbled floors of the manor sounded thunderous as you stepped further inside. Everything smelled old and earthy, like mildew and rotted wood. The corners of the ceiling were covered in thick cobwebs that stretched to the tops of the door frames and the walls were decorated with dusty paintings and mirrors.

You didn’t want to disturb anything, lest you offend the monster hiding somewhere within the manor walls, and yet you couldn’t help but approach one of the larger paintings, squinting to try to see the art through the accumulated grime. It was a family portrait, you could tell that much, but the details of each individual was hidden away by the filth. Covering your free hand with your shawl, you gingerly wiped the dust away, slowly revealing a face.

A pale cheekbone, soft blue eyes, a glimpse of perfectly coiffed blonde hair-

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The lantern slipped from your hands, glass shattering as it hit the floor, submerging you in complete darkness.

Your breath came in short, staccato gasps as you stood there, body freezing up like a frightened rabbit at the end of a rifle. Your cunicular heart thumped wildly against your rib cage as you strained to see through the darkness to catch a glimpse of the monster.

Seconds passed you by but the voice said nothing else. You almost wondered if you had imagined it, until-

“It’s dangerous to travel these woods at night.”

The voice was much closer now, just mere feet away from you, and you couldn’t control the frightened whimper that slipped past your lips.

“C-Countess Boynton?” you whispered.

A hand touched yours- impossibly cold and moving impossibly slow as you felt fingers brush against yours. Fingers, not claws or talons, belonging to a human hand, not a gnarled paw like in the stories that haunted you throughout your life.

“You must be freezing,” the voice murmured as her hand curled around yours. “Come. Let’s get a fire started and you can explain why you’ve come here tonight while you warm up.”

A few kind words and a soft tug of your hand uprooted you from your spot as you blindly followed after the monster as she brought you deeper into the manor.

There had been many sightings of the Beast of Boynton Manor over the years, glimpses of dark fur moving between houses, claims of glowing red eyes lurking at the edge of the woods. From time to time, a few brave souls would venture out into the forest, seeking the glory and fame that would come with slaying the beast, but none had succeeded.

The monster was large, some said, larger than an adult bear with razor sharp claws, elongated, dripping fangs, and shaggy black fur. Others claimed that the monster was human-like, save for its unnaturally stretched out arms and wild, dark eyes. Every would-be monster hunter’s story was different from the next but even those discrepancies were explained away, for they said that the monster was capable of prying into your mind and mirroring your darkest fears.

Regardless of what the men all said they saw, they were all in agreement: the monster was something straight out of a nightmare.

The women of your village spoke differently of The Beast.

You came to a stop as the monster’s hand slid from yours. The voice instructed you to stay still and even though you still feared for your life, unsure if you would walk away from this encounter unscathed, you obeyed.

A small fire sprang to life in the center of a large, hewn stone fireplace just a few feet away from you and from the light of the flames, you could finally see the monster.

“There we go,” the Countess sighed as she took a step back from the fireplace. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair looked golden in the flickering light and the way she held herself was regal and confident. With every blink of her eyes, her eyelashes brushed along the tops of her cheeks. Even her clothes were beautiful- you didn’t recognize the style of her dress, but you could see the fine detail of the lace hemmed against her skirts and running along her corset.

Then the Countess turned her eyes to you and your breath hitched in your throat. They were a brilliant blue in color and for a moment, you swore that you saw them glow unnaturally.

The fire crackled pleasantly while you stared at the Countess of Boynton Manor.

“… are you afraid?” she asked, her voice soft and melodic. You could only blink in reply. The Countess smiled gently at you before turning her eyes back to the fire. “What a silly question to ask, of course you are afraid. I can hear it, you know. Your heart.”

A cold pang of dread shot through your chest. You watched as the Countess laughed softly to herself, a sharp exhale of amusement.

“Ah, there it goes. It sounds as if it’s about to go leaping out of your chest.” For a brief moment, you wondered if that was even possible and in the next, the Countess was speaking again, seemingly as if she had read your mind. “I was only teasing, my dear. I can assure you that you are perfectly safe.”

The Countess clasped her hands together and turned to look at you once more, an earnest look now resting upon her face. “You are safe here, understand? No harm shall come to you while you are a guest in my home… as unexpected as your presence may be.”

“Sorry,” you apologized meekly.

The Countess crossed the small distance between you, feet moving soundlessly against the hardwood floors, and reached for your hand once more. “Standing over there won’t do you any good,” she said as she led you closer to the fireplace. Everything about the way she spoke to you, handled you, was delicate and precise.

You stood in-front of the fire and she encouraged you to sit down with a gentle press of her hand against your shoulder and down you went, settling on the floor. You folded your legs underneath your skirt, smoothing your hands momentarily over the fabric- threadbare and held together by uneven patchwork, the entire opposite of what the Countess was wearing- and finally settled your hands in your lap.

Unsurprisingly, the Countess did not join you on the floor. She remained on her feet, moving to stand behind you, hand lingering on your shoulder, the coldness of her hand seeping through your clothes and into your skin, the coldness too sharp for even the fire to warm.

“It has been many years since I’ve had a visitor.” The Countess lifted her hand to play with your hair, fingers idly twirling and caressing the loose strands. The back of her hand brushed up against the sensitive skin of your neck and you shivered as goosebumps rose along your arms. “Not many people are brave enough to knock on my door, never mind stroll right into my home.”

Although you were still acutely aware of your racing heart and the danger you were in, you could feel the tension slowly start to lift from your shoulders. It was a mix of the fire warming your skin, the Countess’s hands carding gently through your hair, and her soft, soothing voice washing over you. You were comfortable.

Or as comfortable as you could be, given the circumstances of your situation.

“I apologize for disturbing you,” you started, voice wavering and unsure. “But I have found myself in a dire situation and I fear that if I don’t get help-”

The Countess cut you off with a gentle shushing noise just as your shoulders started to tremble. “Breathe, my dear,” she instructed as her nails pleasantly scratched your scalp. “Breathe and tell me of your misfortune.”

You inhaled slowly and allowed your eyes to flutter shut.

“I’m engaged.” It wasn’t the eloquent start you had practiced on your way to the manor, but it was what came tumbling out of your mouth nonetheless. “I-I am engaged to a man who I do not love and who in return does not love me. He is powerful and wealthy, you see, and when he proposed, I was unable to refuse. He is brash, and arrogant, and quick to anger and although he has yet to raise his hand against me, I know it’s coming.” Your voice trembled as you spoke, opening your eyes as the Countess’s hand stilled in your hair. Although she was behind you, and therefore you could not see her to be sure, you had the impression that she was listening intently to your story.

“My fiance was married twice before and had another engagement between wives. Each one of them died within just a few months of meeting him and I-” you stopped for a moment and pushed down the terror that made your voice crack and your eyes tear up. “I know, without a doubt, that I am next. If I am to marry this man, I will turn up dead.”

Silence fell between you. It was so quiet that if it weren’t for her hand in your hair, you would wonder if the Countess was even still behind you. You gazed at the fire and watched the flames dance.

“In my village, there are stories,” you explained, voice barely louder than a whisper and yet you knew that the Countess could hear you. “Stories of a savior. The men talk of a fearsome beast but the women whisper of something that lives in the woods, something hundreds of years old, something beautiful. They say that in times of peril, if you venture into the woods and seek out the presence that lurks in the ruins of–”

The Countess’s hand left your hair and you found yourself stopping short, words cutting off suddenly. You tangled your fingers in the fabric of your skirt, eyes wide as you continued to watch the fire, both unable and unwilling to turn your head to look around for your hostess.

Your grandmother had told you the stories, stories echoed by the older women in your village. While the men of your village told nightmarish stories of the monster, the women spoke of gentler tales, full of kindness and retribution. They said that for the right price, the Countess could be persuaded to intervene in mortal matters, that she had a soft spot for the women of your village, that she would aid those in desperate need.

And so there you were, settled in front of the fire, asking a monster for help. Out of options, out of time.

“And do they speak of the price that must be paid?” The Countess’s voice lacked it’s earlier warmth.

“… They do not.”

Silence. You knew that the Countess was still in the room for you could feel her eyes boring into you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up in primal alertness. Were you too blunt? Too rude? Should you have waited before unloading your troubles on her? A dozen different thoughts clouded your mind.

Faster than you could comprehend, faster than you could see, the Countess was crouching before you. With her back to the fire, her face was cast in shadow, and your breath caught in your throat, eyes widening at her sudden appearance.

“Eliminating your… problem would be simple,” she spoke, voice barely louder than a whisper and yet you heard her as clear as day. “It would be easy. I could free you of your burden tonight, if I so wished. But I ask you, what price are you willing to pay? To be safe, to be content, knowing that your life no longer hangs in the balance, I wonder- what would you give?”

Her words sent a chill down your spine and you had to swallow before you could answer her.

“A-Anything.”

“Anything?” she repeated and you could only nod as her eyes flashed, visible to you now in the darkness, a shining, beautiful blue.

The Countess cupped your face in her hand, her skin so cold against yours that it startled you into a small gasp. Cold as her hand was, it was smooth and tender, her thumb brushing against your cheek with a level of care you were unfamiliar with.

“Oh, you sweet little mouse, you don’t realize what you offer…”

The Countess curled her fingers and you could feel the sharp bite of her nails against your cheek. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from hers, not even as her other hand moved to the back of your head, tangling in your hair, holding your head still as she watched you with half lidded eyes, gaze appraising as she looked you over.

“ ‘Anything’, she says, not knowing what I could ask of her. What if I wanted everything you owned, down to the last coin, the last string of thread? Or, in return for what you’re asking of me, what if I wanted your life? Your blood, spilled here on my floor, or perhaps a promise to serve me until your pretty little heart stops beating in your chest?”

As she spoke, the Countess slid her hand down from your cheek, fingers gliding along your jaw and neck, before resting it over your chest, skin pressed to skin, the icy cold tips of her fingers resting just below your collarbone.

“Where would you draw the line? Your life, the promise of your first born child…. you?”

Her hand slid lower until the edge of her hand brushed against your breast, a mere ghost of a touch, and yet you gasped, hands clutching at your skirts, too nervous to reach out and touch her. Even with her face hidden by darkness, you could tell that she was smirking as she tugged at your hair, firmly, but still with care, and forced your head back further.

“What if I asked for you? For you to remain beside me and keep me company, for now, forever? What if I wanted you with me always, my pretty little mouse, so eagerly by side?” Her hand crept lower still, sliding under the loose fabric of your shirt, her palm pressing more firmly against you, nearly cupping you in her hand. Every inch of skin gliding against skin sent shock-waves through your body. You felt warm in a way you had never felt before- not by the hands of another, at least, and certainly not those of a woman.

It scared you, just how much you liked it.

“If I asked to have you here, with me, underneath me, trembling and begging for me, would you agree? Would you offer yourself to me?”

The Countess leaned in and her face was so close to yours that with every word, her lips brushed against yours. In that moment, her hand over your heart, your breast in her hand, her mouth nearly meeting yours, you knew what your answer would be.

With a smirk that you could feel, the Countess released her grip on your hair and pulled away. You chased after her for a moment, lips searching for hers, before you were brought back to the present moment with a giggle falling from her lips.

“No. Not like this. If you are to offer yourself to me, I wish for it to be of your own free will, of your own desire, and not as payment.”

You swallowed and nodded your head, feeling dazed, almost as if you had just woken up from a dream. The Countess reached out to caress your face, one last fleeting touch as if she couldn’t help herself, before mirroring you, resting her hands in her lap and folding her legs underneath her dress.

The fire started to dwindle behind her and the Countess made no move to rekindle the flames.

“… will you do it?” You surprised yourself by being the first to break the silence that had fallen between the two of you once more. “Will you help me?”

Your eyes were adjusted well enough to the fading light that you could see her face as the Countess regarded you carefully, her eyes never leaving yours.

“I will,” the Countess agreed with a soft exhale. The sense of relief you felt was so strong and sudden that tears once again pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I will help you, but I need something from you beforehand.”

The Countess reached for both of your hands and you gladly gave them to her. She held them carefully and her thumbs brushed along your knuckles as her eyes flashed an eerie blue once more.

“Do you know what I am, little mouse?”

A monster, you wanted to say, but the word felt wrong and sour on your tongue. Your fiance was a monster, but the woman in front of you? As inhuman as she may have been, she was kind, far kinder than most of the people in your small village. You shook your head in response.

“I am vampyr.” There was an audible weight to the word and the Countess waited for your reaction, perhaps a startled gasp or for you to yank your hands from her and flinch away in horror, and yet you remained still. The word was unfamiliar to you.

The Countess smiled. “I do not age, my dear, nor do I succumb to disease. I will remain eternal as I sit before you- unaging, unchanging, forever as I am. I was human once, many, many years ago, but I no longer have human needs. Sleep, water, food… There is only one thing I require for my continued existence.”

Holding your gaze, the Countess brought your hands up to her mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“Blood.”

The fire died out and the room fell into complete darkness.

“Blood?” you repeated, brow furrowed in confusion. Even sitting in the dark, hands intertwined with the Countess’, who had just admitted the horrifying truth of her existence, you felt safe. The fear you had originally felt upon entering the Boynton Manor was no longer present, the feeling nothing but a distant memory, although no longer than an hour had passed, surely.

“Blood,” the Countess reaffirmed. “Your blood. It gives me strength and I will admit, it has been quite some time since I was last able to feed. With your blood, I will have the strength to deal with your fiance. That is all I ask- your blood, enough to strengthen me, and in return, a lifetime of freedom from your betrothed.”

Phrased as such, it was an easy deal to agree to, and yet you hesitated, if only for a moment. “How much will you need?”

“You will feel lightheaded afterwards,” the Countess admitted, a tinge of excitement to her voice, “and will surely need to rest for a few hours before you depart, but what I said earlier still remains true. You are safe here. I will only take what I need from you, nothing more. Within no time at all, you will be able to walk out of my home and return to your village.”

A few hours of your time and your blood. That was all that was asked of you. You squeezed the Countess’ hands in yours.

“Will it hurt?”

“It will feel like the prick of a needle against your neck, short and quick.”

You had no more questions. Your mind was made up the moment you set out for Boynton Manor, after all.

“… Okay.”

The Countess let out a slow, shaky breath and you swallowed nervously as she moved closer, the sound of shifting fabric audible in the otherwise silent space.

“Thank you, little mouse,” the Countess smiled and she leaned forward, her lips ghosting against your forehead in a phantom kiss. “You need not ever fear for your life again. I will protect you….”

One of her hands cupped your face gently while the other moved to your side, holding you still as her mouth trailed its way to your neck. You leaned your head to the side, offering more of yourself to her, and the Countess let out a pleased hum, her fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt. Her nose brushed against your pulse point and you could hear her inhale deeply just as you felt the pressure of two sharp points press into your skin ever so lightly.

“I will protect you, because you are mine.”

The Countess sunk her teeth into your neck.

White hot pain overtook your senses, starting in your neck but quickly shooting down your spine, and you could hardly do more than let out a pained noise as your hands flew to clutch at the Countess’ dress. It felt like every nerve was raw and exposed and you didn’t know how much longer you could bare it, the stinging pain, the racing of your heart, the feel of the Countess’ mouth against your skin-

The pain vanished, almost as quickly as it had started, and then you felt oddly at ease. The Countess continued to drink from you but the feeling was far from uncomfortable- it tingled in an almost soothing manner. Cold fingers stroked through your hair as everything started to feel hazy and a euphoric fog overtook your mind.

Seconds passed you by, although they could have been minutes, or hours, or even days, for how aware and coherent you were.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the Countess pulled away, mumbling soft praises against your throat, and then everything went black.

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The forest was bathed in a warm, golden light as the sun started its descent against the horizon. Except for the occasional gust of wind that sent the last stubborn leaves falling to the ground, the woods were quiet- save for your hurried steps against the forest floor, leaves and pine needles crunching underfoot. There was a nip to the air and your breath was visible in front of you as you made your way between the trees, careful not to let your shawl get tangled in the bushes you passed.

Two days had passed since you had last walked this path through the woods. Two beautiful, perfect days.

The hardest part had been acting like you weren’t absolutely delighted by the sudden and, at least, for the other villagers, unexpected death of your fiance.

His body had been found behind his house, just at the edge of the woods, half-hidden among the treeline. It had been a violent and nasty affair, according to the men that found him, for they had prevented you from seeing the carnage yourself. After his body had been found and brought to the church, you managed to take a glance at the crime scene, had seen the blood soaked ground where he had spent his final moments.

Funeral arrangements were still being made and as the village mourned the loss of one of their own, no one batted an eye as you slipped away. You were, after all, a grieving woman.

In the fading afternoon light, Boynton Manor looked almost inviting.

A flood of excitement washed over you as the building came into view with its steep-pitched roofs and fading paint. All too eager to cross through the front doors, you took the stone steps two at a time and nearly threw yourself against the oaken doors. Dust particles floated in the shafts of light that came in through the newly opened doors and a few stray leaves came swirling in at your heels.

“Countess Boynton!” you called out, a giddy tremble to your voice as you paused in the foyer to catch your breath, eyes wide in wild excitement. “Countess, you did it!”

As before, no immediate answer came.

The door swung shut behind you just as you walked further into the manor. The lingering daylight crept in through the dusty windows as you made your way from one room to the next, searching for the manors’ only inhabitant.

The Countess was waiting for you in the sitting room, her back to you as she stood by one of the many windows that faced the back of the property, hand resting against the moth-eaten curtains. Her gaze was trained outside but somehow you knew that she was aware of your presence as you came to a stop further in the room, just a few feet away.

“Countess,” you said with a breathy exhale, stopping to curtsy even though she couldn’t see it. “You- I owe you-”

“You owe me nothing,” came the Countess’ reply as she turned her head, not quite looking at you but still speaking over her shoulder. Hearing her voice again had your heart thumping rapidly against your chest. Only two days had passed since your last encounter and yet it was two days too many. “We had a deal and I held up my end of the bargain.”

There was a certain finality to her voice that gave you pause as you fiddled with the fabric of your skirts, eyes cast to the floor. You hadn’t considered the fact that, just maybe, she wasn’t eager to see you again, that maybe she didn’t want to see you again. You curtsied again, if only for lack of anything else to do, feeling uncomfortable and incapable of standing still.

“I- I wanted to see you again,” you admitted, voice honest and vulnerable. “I wanted to thank you, for you have saved my life, Countess, and although I have already paid for your service, I shall forever be in your debt.”

The Countess remained by the window, her gaze caught somewhere between you and the glass. In the fading twilight, you could see something close to amusement flicker across her face.

“… Lucy.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My first name,” she replied with an airy laugh, finally turning to face you, hands folded in front of her. “You may call me Lucy; I believe we are past such formalities as titles at this point, are we not?”

“Lucy,” you repeated, almost savoring the word in your mouth. You decided that it was a beautifully perfect name.

“Had I known you’d be visiting, I would have prepared for your arrival,” Lucy explained with a faint gesture of her hand towards the rest of the room, which was covered in dust and had the musty smell of a place long abandoned. “Forgive me, but I had assumed that our paths wouldn’t cross again.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“No one ever comes back here,” Lucy said simply. To her, it was a basic fact, as if she had said that the sky was blue, and yet you couldn’t help but feel saddened by this truth. Even monsters must get lonely, you thought.

You met her eyes and spoke slowly but surely. “Well here I am.”

“Here you are,” Lucy repeated, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She crossed the space between you, nearly gliding against the floor for how smooth and gracefully she walked, and once she was close enough, she reached out to you. You eagerly found yourself closing the remaining distance and her hands cupped your face.

“My brave little mouse,” she said fondly, smoothing her thumbs against your cheeks. You leaned into the touch like a house cat. “Although I wonder: is it bravery that sent you back here, or was it foolishness?”

Carefully, and feeling particularly brave, you brought your hands up and encircled one around her wrist, the over moving to lay atop one of hers. You didn’t pull or push her away but instead allowed your touch to rest against hers, enjoying the feeling of your hands against her skin, as cold and smooth as stone. “Perhaps I simply wished to thank you and spend more time in your company?”

“Foolishness it is then,” Lucy decided with a teasing smile.

You frowned, lower lip jutting out in a small pout, and Lucy laughed as she leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“Come now,” she said against your skin before moving back just enough to wind her arm through yours, tugging you to her side as she started to lead you out of the sitting room. “Let me give you a tour of my home and as we walk, you can tell me all about what’s happened these past few days. I hear there’s been a death in your village?”

A small, delighted laugh stumbled past your lips, and you turned your head to stifle the noise against her shoulder as Lucy led you deeper into her home, a mirrored laugh bubbling from her chest just a moment later.

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Stars twinkled over head and even though the moon was obscured by clouds, the forest was bathed in a soft and silver light. The air was cold and sharp, the kind of sharpness that was usually followed by snow, and your teeth hadn’t stopped chattering since the moment you stepped out your front door.

You didn’t know what you were going to do once winter came around. You had clothes for the colder weather, but they weren’t made for trekking your way across the woods that separated your village from the Boynton Manor.

Lucy. Just the knowledge that you would be seeing her soon was enough to inspire you to keep walking, even if your feet started to ache from the cold.

It was too late to question yourself, but as you trudged through the forest, closer to the manor than to your nice, warm bed, you wondered if you were making the right decision in seeking out the Countess once more.

Your last visit had been unexpected and Lucy had been pleasant enough, but she hadn’t exactly asked you to return. Not in words, anyways, but as she had walked you to the door later that evening, an evening that passed almost two weeks ago, you could practically see an unasked question waiting on the tip of her tongue.

Lucy had kissed you goodbye, her lips pressed against your cheek, the corner of her mouth meeting yours, and when she pulled her hands away from where they had been resting on your sides, she looked at you wistfully. You could have been imagining things, reading into your goodbye just a little too much, but Lucy had acted as if she hadn’t wanted you to leave.

And the truth of the matter was you hadn’t wanted to leave.

You had only known the Countess for two evenings, and yet already knew you were far more comfortable with her than with anyone else in your village. Had she put you under a spell with those enchanting eyes of hers? Had her feeding from you created a bond that had you yearn for her touch, for her very presence? Or was it simply the start of something beautiful?

You didn’t know. But you’d have your answers soon enough when you finally arrived at Lucy’s manor.

Two weeks. Two weeks had passed since you had last spent time in Lucy’s company and so much had changed for you. Your fiance had been buried deep under the frost-coated ground for several days and yet you had been unable to sneak away from your home. Early winter was a busy and difficult time of year for your village as everyone worked hard to prepare for the colder months and it felt like everyone in the village was determined to keep you busy. You knew that they meant well, that your loved ones were simply trying to keep you busy to take your mind off your ruined engagement, but all you wanted was a moment to sneak away into the darkness.

The rumors of your fiance’s unexpected passing had only just started to quiet down just a few days prior. People had naturally pinned it on an animal attack, an unfortunate occurrence that was not unheard of for your village, and although most people pinned the tragedy on some hungry animal, you had heard in passing whispers that some believed that The Beast was responsible. If only they knew how right they were.

(During the funeral service, you had met the eyes of your grandmother and what you had found there was understanding and acceptance. No words were exchanged between the two of you that night. There hadn’t been a need for it.)

After what felt like hours, you finally reached the edge of the forest and the start of the Boynton Manor grounds and what you saw made you pause, feet stuttering against the ground.

The windows looked cleaner and the debris that had lingered around the front of the building had been removed, but what caught your eye was the doorway. The grand oaken doors were open in invitation and a set of candles were lit just inside the foyer and as you moved closer and walked up the front stairs, you could see more candles leading a path deeper into the building.

Lucy had been waiting and preparing for your return.

You hadn’t been alone in your blossoming feelings towards the other woman.

Pulling your shawl closer around you and with a smile so wide that your cheeks already started to ache, you were all too happy to walk across the threshold of the Boynton Manor, eager to throw yourself into the arms of the monster that was waiting within.

[macbetha]

Bad people get lucky. 

Haru endured overdoses, gunshots wounds, and complete devastation only to wake up to a new life with an angel of a man smiling down at him. He was given a soul that he never deserved but he tries to live up to the excellence of purity, like Makoto, though it’s like trying to rival God – perfect. But God takes care of old dogs, drunks, and devils. Justice for all just isn’t fair. The women’s prison in Iwatobi makes for brutal living conditions, especially for those on Death Row. Capital punishment is new to the city, especially for females, and Haru would be conflicted about it were he not sitting in the outdoor visitation center with someone who deserves to die far more painfully than lethal injection. Miho Amakata survived like a Lazarus of her time. Corro’s bullets didn’t hit the right organs and Haru’s gun couldn’t land home in her brain. The fall from the rafters might have paralyzed her but she sits in her wheelchair like a throne and Haru hates her for it. His only solace is that she’s doomed to agony as long as her heart keeps beating - bones didn’t heal right and his bullet might not have killed her but it left her with a forever-migraine, which is worlds of satisfying. Her delusions are a nice touch, too.  She mulls over their conversation, taking a pull of the cigarette Haru gave her as a bribe. She lost an arm to amputation – it was mangled from burns, shriveled up. There’s no left foot and she lost layers of skin on one side of her face, leaving behind bubbled scars. One iris is moonlit with blindness. An eye for an eye. After a minute, she says, “Nah, you’re not a good man. People can’t do what you’ve done even with what you’ve been through. But you try. That’s all that matters. Don’t see why you do it though.” Haru works his jaw, chin scrunching. “Wouldn’t expect you to.” Miho’s eyes flit upward. “You know better than anyone that you don’t win fights by being soft. That’s all life is – a fight.” She rolls her cigarette between two fingers, holding it more gently than she ever did her own children. “We’re all just pigs in a slaughterhouse, all of us.” When she faces him, Haru sees that she’s peeled every lash from her waterline in a fit of nerves. Miho’s voice falls to a dreamy whisper of grandeur. “But imagine being the wolf. That slaughterhouse is suddenly an endless feast that’ll last you forever.” Haru physically resists the urge to recoil, but he never cowers away from her stare. “What happens when the farmer barges in with a gun? He’ll shoot the wolf, not the pigs.” She snorts, pursing her colorless lips around the cigarette. “Those pigs will die anyway and they won’t go out as nicely as a bullet to the jaw. They spend their little lives miserably, packed together so tightly in trucks that their guts pop out of their asses.” She says this like she’s imagining it, but not in the disturbed way that she should – it’s as if she’s admiring a profound piece of art. “They’re considered the lucky ones if they make it to that slaughterhouse where they’re burned alive in a scalding tank.” She shakes her head, entirely pleased. “And all that wolf got was a bullet.” Miho watches him in half-lidded pensiveness as she takes another drag, her eyes sunken and swollen all at once. She keeps looking at him even as she taps out her ashes, and he watches them fall like snow into the yellowed grass. “Must be hard for you,” she sighs. “Knowing I’m going to die so quietly by a sweet little injection when all you want to do is gut me in the street. I bet you fantasize about it – I see it in your eyes.” Her voice is not that of antagonizing smugness; it’s a strange indifference that speaks of faint curiosity. Haru has thought of nothing else for so much of his life, but thinking the world was rid of Miho only to be sitting across from her years later – it’s violating beyond comprehension. He says, “There’s no point in wasting my thoughts on you.” Though he does every day – he’s trying, at least. Miho gives a considering hum, a shrug in her mouth. “Don’t know anything better you have to think about.” She looks him over, the breeze struggling through her matted hair. “You’re not the type of person who trusts peace; that’s just the calm before storm after storm.” She gazes at the tree line beyond the towering fence, squinting in the beating sunlight. The glare beats off the chrome in her wheelchair and sweat creases her frown lines. “Peace is such an empty promise. You won’t get anything as quick as a gun to the mouth if you trust it.” A hazy smirk twitches her lips. “You walked into the scalding tank the moment you walked into your husband’s arms.” She snorts, taking a pull and croaking through the smoke, “Well, more like he did.” A wave of heat clenches his muscles, hugging his lungs from all sides. “Don’t you fucking talk about him.” “Fine, sorry.” He reels when he should be adapted to her disturbing mood swings. Miho lifts her brows. “I’m not saying he’s a bad person – he’s good and that’s why you’re wrong for him.” Haru won’t argue with that but he doesn’t want to hear such words coming from the devil herself. Miho leans back, rolling her wrists on the armrests. Haru could slit those dark veins open so easily, so quickly. Miho says, “I think about him almost more than I do you. What kind of person could have a heart so hungry that they’d rip themselves open, just for you?” She gives him a knowing look. “A good person. Just another little pig.” The acidic burn of nausea rolls up his throat because he can’t do this, he just can’t. But his whole reason for coming here was to protect Makoto, and that is the only way he can stay composed instead of collapsing to scream into the dirt. “But anyway, to answer your initial question,” she says, “I don’t know anything about a gang that used a scorpion as its figurehead. Iwatobi’s always had a system: Bloodhounds owned the outskirts, Rough Rabbit claimed the railways and the slums, Honeyblade had all the pussy in the city. Freebird was the blood of Iwatobi – veined every alleyway with floods of the best vice, and Diamond Back simply did whatever they wanted, but not too much of it. They’d rather have their hand in a little bit of everything than pool their fortune into girls or drugs.” His shoulders drop. “So there’s never been any others?” “Not with our level of influence, no.” Her voice tightens in gleeful depreciation. “There were brief tries: the Bladefang bears, the Redback gators. All attempts were as pathetic as their names. The streets were painted in thug guts and they were quickly forgotten.” “But no scorpion.” “Not from what I remember, no.” Her eyes crinkle in a smug squint. “And I know everything.” She takes a drag and hisses out the smoke through her teeth. “You sound like you haven’t even considered that this could be a new gang.” He shakes his head, at a hopeless loss. “There’s no gangs in Iwatobi anymore. Nobody would be brave enough to try something like that after we all fell years ago.” She startles a laugh that makes him jump. “No gangs in Iwatobi?” Her chuckle tapers off with pity. “Oh, you broken little bird. There is no Iwatobi without gangs. We are our own world.” She tips her head, considering. “This is actually the easiest time for a newcomer to rise to power now that all of you are out of the way.” In a last desperate attempt to find clarity, he says, “Have you ever heard of Hiyori Tono?” “No and I’d remember if I had.” She casts a glance at the prison’s silhouette. “Remembering is all I do nowadays.” Remembering the thirst for blood, Haru’s sure. “He’s a distant relative of Pietro’s. He just came to Iwatobi.” “Then he’d have nothing to do with any gang that isn’t Diamond Back, dear. Even if he doesn’t want it, his loyalty is only in being a viper; it’s in his blood no matter how ‘distant’ he is.” She sucks the last pinch of the cigarette. “If this new gang is threatening enough for you to ask me about it, I’d advise that you get ready; doesn’t seem like they’re intimidated by the fall of the old gangs. They’ve learned from your mistakes – possibly. Time will tell if they’re in it for shortfall glory or if they were made for this life.” He’s too defeated to say anything; he hopes that he’ll be able to stand under the weight of devastation, but the heat has drained him. Makoto told him to be careful about getting hot when his iron is so low. Haru should have listened – he always should have listened. Miho’s frown grows anxious but it’s merely her wearing the expression as a mask of learned behavior, just like all sociopaths do, but the worry in her voice is… confusing. “Are you afraid of the threat or what you’ll have to do about it?” “I’m not doing anything about,” he snaps. “I’m done with all that, with – all of it.” She rolls her eyes in exasperation before sobering up. “You won’t die,” she promises. “When the time comes, you will do what is necessary without hesitation.” He flinches when she cups his cheek, her thumb rasping over it. She smiles. “Because I made you. You’re my little wolf. You will die so sweetly with your husband and it will be everything you always dreamed of – when you’re old, when you’re sleeping.” “You said he was a pig.” “Mm, not with you,” she says. “Not when he’s got you like this.” His eyes widen as she leans closer, her whisper that of a mother’s fondness. “You will die like a wolf. I’ll make sure of it.”

When he gets home that night, the dog rushes him as usual - Tango yips and scrambles up so fast that he trips on his three legs, but he snuggles up to Haru’s knee and he chuckles. He pats his ears before toeing off his shoes, balling up his jacket and tossing it in the direction of the coat rack because he is just too tired to unearth a fuck to give. He adjusts Makoto’s flannel tighter around his middle, hugging himself as he rounds the entry corridor. He follows the soft flush of gold lamplight to the living room and is greeted by a gentle surprise.  Makoto sits on the floor with Namiko, her back to him as he frowns at the iPad screen. He squints behind his glasses. “Nami-chan, how’d you even find this braiding tutorial? This is like, thirty minutes long.”  She kicks her feet with an impatient huff. “Papa said I could watch somethin’ on his iPad and I heard Gou-chan talkin’ ‘bout how Daddy used to braid her hairs, so I want it too.”  “Hair, just hair.” Makoto snorts, a grin twitching his mouth as he weaves his fingers through the complicated twists in her white curls. “And what did Daddy say when you told him that you wanted him to braid your hair?” “He cried. No, Nami baby, just come color my tattoos instead! He felled on the couch like a princess. Papa tried, though.” “And?” She puffs out her chest and scrunches up her face, hardening her voice. “Nami, my hands are too big for this, you know Papa can’t do these pretty things. C’mon, let’s play with your dollhouse. I think he likes dolls more than me. He likes my ponies mostest.” Makoto sings a laugh, eyes crinkling shut. Haru leans on the doorframe, tipping a dreamy sigh with affection all warm in his chest. Makoto pinches his tongue between his teeth and ties off her hair, saying, “Well, you’re lucky I’m the braiding champion of Iwatobi. I’ve been doing Ran’s hair since she was little like you.” He flips the braid over her shoulder for her to see and she grabs at her hair with absolute stars in her eyes. “That good enough?” “Yes, yes!” She looks up at Haru and kicks her socked feet, pointing the end of her braid at him. “Hi, Haru-chan! Look!” “I see,” he grins, padding over to them. Makoto smiles from the floor and squeezes Haru’s ankle in greeting before Haru bends down to peck his hair, cradling the back of his head. Namiko makes grabby hands for him and he props her on his hip with a grunt, knees wobbling before he braces them. “You look very pretty.” She’s fit to burst into light, she beams so hard. Makoto leans back on his hands and one of the cats makes use of the open space in his lap, curling up as Makoto glances at the clock. “Namiko’s spending the night, so I think it’s time she goes to bed. Rin left her some pajamas in the bathroom.” “No,” she groans, flopping onto Haru’s chest with every bit of Rin’s dramatics. Haru hides his smile in her hair and takes her to the bathroom, leaving her to change. When she comes out and he takes her hand to lead her to the guest bedroom, she tugs him to a stop. “Wanna sleep with you.” She digs her toes, clad in footie pajamas, into the carpet. His brows crease, cradling her hand a bit firmer. “Are you scared?” She worries her lip messily, big eyes cast to the floor. “I like sleepin’ with Daddy. He comes 'n gets me out of bed when Papa goes to work so I sleep with him.” He frowns. “Rin comes and gets you at 3 in the morning?” Haru’s brother is working a brutal shift right now. She blinks and replies with the matter-of-factness only a child possesses. “I don’t know. I’m 6. I can’t read clocks.” Haru chuckles to himself and leads her to the master bedroom. “Fine,” he sighs, picking her up since she’s not tall enough to climb the mattress herself. “But don’t steal my blankets.” Namiko sticks her tongue out and snuggles under the covers, hugging Haru’s pillow to her, of course. Before he can leave, she perks up. “Can I play your phone?” “You need to –” “Just ten minutes! It’ll make me sleepy.” Haru gives her a flat look and she whines, “It’s Saturday, please-zuuh.” He rolls his eyes before tossing his cell at her. She catches it with a wicked gleam in her eye but pouts at his home screen. “You don’t have Toca’s Hair Salon?” “… huh?” “It’s a game Papa keeps on his phone for me.” She wiggles back into the pillows with a huff. “I guess I’ll play Candy Crush.” “Don’t beat my high score,” he says, and she smiles. Namiko never looks like her mother when she smiles, but Haru never saw Ookami happy much. He wanders back into the living room to plop in the floor with Makoto, resting against his side with a long sigh, trying to purge the day’s tension out in a breath. Makoto nuzzles his cheek against the top of Haru’s hair, rubbing a comforting hand down his arm on the way to intertwine their fingers. Haru’s very heart gasps when their rings click together. “How was work?” “It was work,” Haru huffs, snuggling deeper into Makoto and hugging his arms around him. Haru closes his eyes as fingers play with his hair, ghosting across the back of his neck with pleasant shivers. “Why’d Rin bring Namiko over here so late?” Makoto grimaces as he unwinds his hearing aid cord to rub the sore spot behind his ear. Haru pushes his hand away to rub it himself and Makoto’s shoulders drop with a hum, leaning into the sweet touch. He mumbles, “I offered, actually. Him and Sousuke needed to go out and have a break with everything going on. Sorry, I know you’re stressed out –” “It’s fine.” Haru continues to caress the soreness, contentedness sinking over him in the safe quiet of their home. “It’s good to hold a kid every now and then; makes me feel better.” Makoto smiles, eyes tired but always shining for Haru. His voice hushes to a conspiring tone and Haru leans in because he loves nothing more than husband-gossip time. “Rin seems really worried about that Mikoshiba girl.” “Sei’s sister? Why?” Makoto shrugs, tracing Haru’s hawk tattoo as he does every evening. “She’s just really out there and you know how protective Rin’s been of Gou like – well, her whole life, but especially since she turned sixteen.” He straightens his right leg, adjusting his prosthetic with a wince. “Gou’s spending the night with Ran tonight and Ran wouldn’t lead her wrong but she also knows what it’s like to grow up kind of isolated like that.” Haru mulls it over, sneaking a hand under Makoto’s shirt to rub his back, the skin bumpy with rivers of scars. “Maybe it’ll do some good.” “That’d be nice,” Makoto chuckles. His smile stays even when his laughter fades and his eyes are already closed when Haru leans in, guiding Makoto’s jaw down to find his lips. At the touch of his mouth, Haru takes a slow, deep inhale through his nose, his pulse drumming like a song. Makoto catches his mouth again with a soft smack that sounds so intimate that Haru’s face flashes hot. He pecks the swell of Makoto’s lower lip once more before leaning back just enough for their noses to brush, his eyes dark and half-lidded. “You still feel –” He swallows, breathes, “So good.” They close their eyes as their foreheads rest together, a smile curling Makoto’s whisper. “Some things never change.” 

[littleredroseonthevalley]

The Lowest Circle

Summary: Danni, now a grown woman and moderately successful photographer, is living a dour and grey life in Pine Springs. Yet, something odd still happens underneath the surface.

Rating: MA - for mature adults only.  May contain explicit language and adult themes.

Depictions of murder. Reader discretion is advised.

Words: 2909

Notes: So, this is my first attempt at horror. I hope you like it. Don’t forget to comment and reblog!

It was morning again.

The sun shone through the clear window into the bedroom. The temperature was mild, even if it was just the beginning of summer and the skies were as azure blue as the lake outside.

The flowers on the garden blossomed delicately, letting out their soft aroma at the atmosphere, welcoming every visitor to the three-bedroom cottage by the lakeshore with gusto.

It was, overall, a darling place for one to live.

To its actual proprietor, Danni, it was little but a house to sleep on. Sleep she did, as her awakening, rigidly at 7:00 AM every morning, brought the usual sand mouth as any other given day of her life.

She takes off her sleeping mask with a yawn. The fold was a desperate attempt to have a few extra minutes in the morning, but, as most of other things she had once tried, was little but a futile attempt.

Her walk to the bathroom is sluggish, trying not to trip on her heeled shoes left scattered on the floor from the night before.

She opens the medicine cabinet and grabs her toothbrush and paste to start her self-care for the morning. Before she can open the tap on the sink, she hear a dripping noise of water coming from somewhere in the house.

Leaving the toothbrush on the sink, the woman starts to follow the source of the noise. The faucet in front of her seemed to be in perfect order, so she went ahead and checked the pump on her toilet. It also seemed to be working properly.

As she takes leaps around the bathroom, the noise seems to grow heavier, more intense, as if more water is dripping. The cacophony was becoming deafening when she twitched the bathtub curtain.

The defective faucet was there, dripping one drop every twenty seconds.

She grips the tap and turns it to the left as hard as possible. The water seems to stop leaking, but the noise seemed to continue.

The sound of water seemed never to leave her these days.

Giving up on brushing her teeth, Danni walks out of the bathroom.

They were standing on the yacht as the sleazy bodyguard of the Wescotts’ turned into a huge golem of mud.

Imogen and Tom were cornered at the left side of the boat, while Parker was on the right. In front of him was the golem, then Danni and then Astrid. Right at the bow of the vessel, Vincent with a pair of cultists held Harper on knifepoint.

They were still reeling from the thundering roar when they felt the deck planks quaking beneath their feet.

The monster starts barrelling forward, to which Harper shouts, “Get out of the way! GET OUT OF THE WAY!”

Even with all of his reflexes, Parker could not jump fast enough, as the creature ploughs its full weight on him.

None of them can even see his body being thrown off board, away to the depths of the lake, but it does not hinder Harper to scream, “NO!” afterwards.

Imogen wails an “Oh, God, Parker!” and Tom does not say a thing, but stares dead at the ripples on the lake surface.

Danni looks towards Astrid.

Fully dressed, as well as equipped with her camera and extra memory cards, Danni left her house, heading towards the town, the wealthy and ostentatious summer resort she resided in, Pine Springs.

She would often look for subjects around the region, on the stores and cafés the wealthy summer-dwellers tend to visit.

Usually, she would prefer to take the bicycle, but this morning she had preferred to walk. Not due to the weather, but because she was not in the mood for pedalling the red, old monstrosity.

The lane that connected her house with the town was a very beautiful one, as it had leafy, tall, ancient trees on both sides, irregularly planted along the asphalt, likely a reminiscent from the times the whole area was just acres and acres of wood.

Birds would sing on top of trees, and bugs crossed the street as if it was not there, as did the odd mammal, especially rabbits. A wet wind would blow from the lake, tickling the green leaves and running a small and pleasant chill on the woman’s arm.

As she walks down the road, the density of the neighbourhood increased, the noise of people and life starts to fill her ears. She can see a jogger running next to her, they wave, but she does not respond to their courtesy.

Danni despised social obligations and conventions. She finds them a waste of time, of effort. What is the point of a wish for a good morning? To absolve yourself of the guilt from an apathic existence? To make a statement on niceness? To feel better as one makes the lives of those around them miserable?

Over the years, she supposed she developed some misanthropy, she had enough self-awareness to discern that, but she supposed humanity did its part in eliciting her hatred.

She reaches the Lakeview walkway, right at the heart of the town, a few minutes later. It was not a weekend, but the area was filled with bustling activity this time of year.

People walked back and forth through the walkway, basking on the kind morning sun, children bend over the railing to observe the water and the fish below, and the cafés servers raced around the tables on the mid-morning rush.

As the time went by, as Danni shoots photo after photo, more and more people seem to appear through the side streets, to go out of the stores and lounge on the sidewalk.

All that people start to form a solid mass around Danni. She feels as if they were observing her, judging her, surveilling her behaviour.

She lowers her camera, and discreetly packs her equipment up, looking for an escape route. Sweat drips from her forehead, hurting her eyes as it makes its way through her face.

The woman starts making her way through people, careful not to touch anyone, keeping her head down. It was not soon later that she ends up bumping into a woman carrying a cup of coffee.

Danni supposes she would have to apologize, but she did not acknowledge the person, just keeps walking, now with carelessness towards not bumping into anyone.

As the masses close on her, she starts running, aimlessly, trying to lose the crowd. She turns streets she cannot identify, passes through buildings she does not know until she reaches the woods.

Her ears ring with the noise of footsteps and conversation and business, and it fills her with panic.

She cannot stop running until she finally trips on a tree root on the ground, falling down on her face and scraping her knees. She hisses in pain, as she turns herself up and examine her injury.

It was when she heard a rustling of leaves by the trees on her right-hand side, because of which she assumes a position for quick flight.

“Stay back!” She orders. “Stay back!”

Danni looks around for a weapon she can use to defend herself, finding a piece of stray wood, a branch that fell from a tree.

From behind the bush, appears a small and remarkably cute otter, and it seems to trigger a violent response out of her. She shouts and attacks the animal with the branch, managing to hit it fatally.

Even after she killed the poor animal, she keeps hitting it again and again, until it is little but a mass of flesh, blood and broken bones on the overgrowth. Her shoes and exposed leg were tainted with the red liquid.

She drops the branch, feeling overwhelmed.

Picking up her bag with her camera, she walks a few more steps forward and finds herself on the lane near her house.

She ought to take a bath.

Danni hauls herself upright, shaking with rage, but she did not glare towards the monster. No, her rage was focused on Astrid.

“You. BITCH.” She shouts.

She launch herself across the deck towards Astrid and all hell breaks loose. Cultists close in on Imogen and Tom, both of them swinging out desperately.

“Please, stop!” Imogen pleads. “We should all be on the same side! Against the lake ghost!”

The cry from the daughter of Astrid and Vincent falls on deaf ears, as the cultists close on her and Tom.

“I told you to STAY BACK!” The Asian boy tries to defend them with intimidation and the force of his muscles, but it also falls flat.

The cultists holding Harper let go, to try and block Danni’s path towards Astrid, but her viciously swinging fists beat them back.

“Contain them!” Was the order from Vincent.

On his distraction, Harper tries to knock him overboard and take his dagger, ramming into his chest. The youngster’s bones rattle while shoving the man against the railing.

“Let us go this instant!” Harper demands, while brawling with Vincent.

The older gentleman responds with a, “You little snake!”

He manages to reach for a clay bowl on a book table on deck and swings it at Harper.

“Crap!” He barely manages to shield the face as the bowl shatters painfully on the raised forearms.

Vincent presses forward, striking blows to the stomach, sending Harper careening across the deck, falling back to the floor.

“I am sorry if it has to come to this, Harper. I truly am.” Vincent says, in a cynical tone of compassion. “However, this is the only way you’ll learn not to defy us.”

Across the deck, a bloodied Tom is raised to his feet, a knife on his throat. The blade is pressed further and further against his throat.

A look from Vincent, a small nod, and the cultist who held Tom slit his throat clean, killing him.

Later that night, Danni had a soirée at the Wescott house, hosted by Imogen. She would showcase some of her art, some photography, and it would be auctioned off.

Dressed neatly for the evening, she cannot help but remember why she hated those occasions. She felt like a pony on a show.

The whole town seemed to be there, all the posh kinds, and also the odd townie who catered to the elite’s tastes as a lapdog.

She supposes she cannot judge them too harshly. She, too, was a lapdog of the Wescotts’, a puppy made to entertain and to make them appear more cultured than they really were.

Over at one corner, she could spot Imogen. She raised a flute of champagne towards her, who nodded in response. Her former friend was constantly under the weather those times, always fraught and depressed. Neither of them make any motion to talk with one another.

She had to concede it is annoying, as much as it seems hypocritical of her, but the fact remains that only one person can be dour in a relationship for it to work, and that spot is very much taken.

Danni walks through the ballroom, observing the several pallets in which the photos were displayed. It was her usual work, the denounce of a frivolous, hypocritical lifestyle in Pine Springs.

She ought to try to sell a selfie. There is nothing more representative of that than herself.

Sell-out. That is the only thought running through her mind again and again.

There was one picture, however, that seemed oddly out of place. It was the portrait she took of Harper one Labour Day years ago. She was laughing, and her curly blonde hair was thrown back.

She would not sell this picture. Hell, she did not want to even see it.

Before she can do anything, she hears a whistle from behind her, and as she turns to see who it is, a voice starts to sound.

“Harper really looks beautiful in this picture, Danni.” It was Parker, on that stupid beige suit he always wore and she always found distasteful.

“Parker!” She yelps in surprise. “What are you even doing here?”

“Checking out your work, of course!” He responds, amicably. “We all did. Look, there’s Tom!”

The burly man waves towards the Asian, who approaches them, wearing an elegant black smoking hanging on his lean form, long hair tied behind his head.

He hi-fives Parker, and greets Danni with a wave. “Man, Imogen really knows how to choose a caterer. This food is great!”

“Dude, that’s foie gras!” Parker comments, well-humoured. Faced with the look of confusion on his face, the man amends, “It’s duck liver.”

Tom looks at the appetizer, then at Parker, then at the appetizer again, shrugs and continues eating.

Danni’s breath is caught on her throat. They were not supposed to be there. She knows they were not.

Her head starts to hurt, and she races to the bathroom. On her way, she looks at the pictures, and they seemed to fade away, giving space to gruesome images of murder and destruction.

She chokes on a scream, as she stumbles on the bathroom door and locks it from the inside.

The young woman washes her face, letting the make-up wash away with the cold water.

As she uses a towel to wash her face, Danni raises her sight line up front, and comes to face to a reflection that haunts her.

“Harper!” She shouts, scared.

Her hair was wet and messy, as was her clothes. Algae hung on her sleeves and on her body, her eyes were lifeless, with deep purple circles beneath them, and she was pale, as if she did not see the sun in days.

“Harper, what are you doing here?” She asks again. “How did you come in? What are you wearing?”

The girl answer none of those questions. Instead, raises her hand, holding a marlinspike.

“Harper, what is that?!” Danni asks again. “Answer me! What is that about?!”

A glint passes through her eyes, and she simply asks, breathlessly, “Why?”

Harper stabs Danni’s back with the marlinspike.

Nearby, Danni launches blow after blow restlessly at Astrid, who nimbly dodges the attacks.

“Hold…” The younger girl breathes in, trying to catch some air. “Still!”

Astrid’s back hits the railing and she throws a frightened look over her shoulder at the murky water below. Just as Danni pulls back a fist that is sure to hit its mark, Astrid holds up both hands.

“WAIT!” She screams. “Your family! Don’t you want to help them?”

“What?” The other responds, confused. Her fist pauses in hesitation mid-air, and Astrid pushes her advantage.

“Fight alongside us and I promise that you will have everything you need and much, much more to get your family out of debt.” The blonde woman offers her the mephistopholian pact.

Danni deliberates, emotions warring on her face.

Astrid presses further. “That is what you want, isn’t it? The money to help them? I can give you that! All you have to do is join us.”

Harper struggles up onto a standing position, but Vincent’s foot comes down hard on the back, forcing the body back pinned against the deck.

“D… Danni…” Harper tries to plead to her, and she looks at the lifeless, bloodied body of Tom on the floor, and Imogen crying over it, being contained by two buff cultists.

“What will happen to her? To Harper?” The youngster asks, shakily. “If I side with you, what will you do to my friend?”

“Her fate is in her hands. If she cooperates, she too should get out free of harm.” Astrid declares. “But do not think about her, think about your parents. Wouldn’t it be a shame if something happened to them if you chose the wrong side?”

“You…” She stutters. “You… wouldn’t… You mean you…”

“Think carefully what you will do next.” Astrid threatens.

Danni lowers her fists, a look of defeat on her face. “Alright. I won’t fight for you, but… I’ll stand down if it means my family will be safe.”

Harper finds enough air on her lungs to gasp out. “…Why?”

Danni looks at her, but quickly averts away, features awash in shame. “I’m so really sorry, Harper.”

The blonde girl catches sight of a hulking form coming up behind Danni, as a cruel smirk twists Astrid’s face.

“You don’t really think I would actually work with trash like you, do you?” The older woman says.

Before Danni has time to respond, the golem picks her up and throws her overboard into the dark depths of the lake.

It was morning again.

The sun shone through the clear window into the bedroom. The temperature was mild, even if it was just the beginning of summer and the skies were as azure blue as the lake outside.

The flowers on the garden blossomed delicately, letting out their soft aroma at the atmosphere, welcoming every visitor to the three-bedroom cottage by the lakeshore with gusto.

It was, overall, a darling place for one to live.

To its actual proprietor, Danni, it was little but a house to sleep on. Sleep she did, as her awakening, rigidly at 7:00 AM every morning, brought the usual sand mouth as any other given day of her life.

She takes off her sleeping mask with a yawn. The fold was a desperate attempt to have a few extra minutes in the morning, but, as most of other things she had once tried, was little but a futile attempt.

Every day was the same.

[vera-invenire]

VnC Liveblog - Chapter 7

.All chapter liveblogs are linked HERE.

Hey, note for people following along: the last two chapters (5 and 6) didn’t show up on the main Vanitas no Carte tags because Tumblr filters out any posts that have outside links in them. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But they’re done and the links for them are right up there. ^

Now, on to chapter 7!

Methinks MochiJun is running out of art for the chapter covers. That’s okay, I like this guy’s face.

OH MY GOD ARE WE GETTING WORLDBUILDING I AM EXCITED

So. Paracelsus. Famed physician and alchemist, called the Luther of medicine. He’s got a wikipedia page that I’m not gonna link to here *shakes tiny fist at tumblr* but probably the most interesting thing about him (if not the most important, in this context) is that ‘Paracelsus’ was his pen name. His real name?

Theophrastus von Hohenheim. Yeah. That von Hohenheim. Or at least the original one he was named after.

More pertinent, I think, is the fact that Paracelsus was a doctor, like our main character. He had a reputation for disdaining conventional medical thought (as this was the 1500s, this was not unwarranted) and for prioritizing practical experience over unproven theories preached by people with silly titles. Going by Vanitas’ fight with Orlok, I think he would have liked Paracelsus.

With Paracelsus involved, we now have a timeline for Babel -- it occurred sometime during the first half of the 1500s, creating vampires, astermite, the border, and, apparently, a number of disasters.

(the sudden appearance of vampires among the human population might have been disastrous enough, but I wonder if there were other things that were thrown out of wack.)

I don’t...quite get this formula business yet, so I’m gonna wait to comment on that until it’s more clear.

Nice job breaking it, Hohenheim.

This is like the tenth time the church has been mentioned, when are they gonna show up?

Hello, Creepy Teacher. Still without eyes, I see.

But not all coal and not all humans were altered.

And what is that on Teacher’s lapel, a clock with wings --

...time flies. You think you’re clever, don’t you.

...he’s planning on using Noé, the last Archiviste. Noé is key to something. What are you planning, Creepy Teacher.

Memoire 7 Bal Masque

Night of Sneering Masks

Lord Ruthven has a real swanky place, don’t he.

On the one hand, I want to go to a ball like this. On the other, it is full of vampires. Who, admittedly, seem like fairly decent people on average -- when they’re not losing their minds and going on murderous rampages.

Kinda looks like the Charlatan parade, though, no?

Hm, Domi is a bit shorter than Noé than I thought she was.

...wait, wait, wait, hold up. let’s zoom in here.

that’s Domi??? that looks like Unnerving Boy. crap, is she Unnerving Boy? i was joking about that before.

Glad I’m not the only one making that connection. The narrative wants this decadence to remind us of Charlatan. re: we shouldn’t trust it.

Domi: That guy’s gonna keep a low profile, right?

Vanitas: *seducing ALL the ladies at the ball*

Y’all knew he was an unrepentant grandstander. What did you expect.

(note: Vanitas knows sleight of hand)

(note: vampires can smell humans)

Hahahahaha, “I don’t understand how vampires define ‘friend’“ is my new favorite line, right along with “several different kinds of unfortunate”.

So my question is, can he only see the memories while he’s drinking? Or can he revisit them whenever he wants?

Vanitas adapted to the usefulness of that collar real quick.

I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN, I KNEW THAT DUM-DUM WOULD LEAVE THESE TWO ALONE AND SHIT WOULD HIT THE FAN

this is gonna be good

So spoketh Dominique de Sade. Never has a character been more aptly named.

(yo, is that Ada’s iron maiden. and a tortured stuffed white rabbit in the corner, too. the spirit of Vincent is alive and well.)

Meanwhile...Noé has found a new toy.

precious cinnamon roll, too pure, etc etc

ohoho, I think we know this kid.

HI, LUCA. And Jeanne can’t be that far away.

These guys are bodyguards, or retainers? Dressed like plague doctors, nice touch.

Luca (Lucius?), this is the man who held you hostage, why you lying.

Uh-oh. Something is clearly wrong with Jeanne.

...you might even say, she should probably see a doctor. *baddum-ting* (I think she’d prefer to die of consumption)

But it seems to be something she’s suffered from before? Is it her breathing or her throat?

Likely the same sister who lent Domi the collar and chain. Sister has interesting hobbies.

“I was all excited!” Yeah, this game is gonna be called Ha Ha, Surprise, I’m Kinkier Than You.

Point, Vanitas.

But Domi rallies nicely.

This is where we start getting real; Domi doesn’t fuck around when it comes to Noé. But does she really need to threaten to carve out Vanitas’ eye with a knife??

...throw more knives at him, Domi.

This is why you need to learn to keep your mouth shut, Vanitas. (also check the misogyny, I don’t want you to turn into Vincent, please)

She brings up some very good points.

Ooo, and it looks like something she said hit home. ...or one of the knives stabbed him. Nah, the black border means a brief flashback of some kind.

...Vanitas hates the Vampire of the Blue Moon. Well, well.

So why did he take his name?? And his Book???

(omg, did he steal the Book)

He’s cracked. He’s gonna do something stupid and/or reckless.

HE’S GONNA THROW HIMSELF BACKWARD OFF THE BALCONY. 

Well, he did say he was gonna get their attention.

(”you’re worried about Vanitas? you should be worried about me.” “no, wait, i mean, i’m here to save vampires. yes. out of the goodness of my bitter heart.”)

The chandelier’s made of bones, it’s a vampire ball, why wouldn’t it be.

Poor Domi’s like, ‘crap, I pushed the punk too far.’

The cajones on this kid.

Like, seriously, isn’t he supposed to be hiding the fact that he’s human...?

This is revenge for always wandering off and disappearing, Noé.

The gloves are coming off again and this time it’s not a bluff.

Holy crap, that’s a lot more extensive than I thought it’d be. Looks a lot like the moon and spider-webbed sky above Altus Paris, doesn’t it? And this mark is lower on his arm than we saw earlier.

Actually, let’s go back and compare. This is from chapter 4 --

So in chapter 4, we saw marks on his left arm. But...is it the same kind of mark? And how many marks does he have?

Branding is something you do to livestock.

The eyes look like the moon look like the brand. (ha, how much you want to bet the moon over Altus Paris is red and Vanitas’ mark is blue)

And the hourglass is front and center once again. He wears that thing for a reason and that reason is connected to the Vampire of the Blue Moon.

So was he really granted some kind of power, or is this another bluff? Then again, the power could be the ability to use the Book.

I’m starting to think the Vampire of the Blue Moon isn’t the only one who hates vampires...

(”fighting monsters is best left to other monsters”)

I would not trust a doctor who looked at me with a face like that, i’m just saying

And now this crusade to save the vampires makes much more sense.

In doing this, not only will Vanitas get the pleasure of having the vampires he’s curing at his mercy, but with each vampire he saves he sticks it to the Vampire of the Blue Moon.

This was never a charitable cause. This is a fuck you to the entire world, the original Vanitas in particular.

Everyone: “oh shit, this guy’s even crazier than we thought.”

Did he...not mean to say that part out loud...? Or did he see something in the crowd?

Guess we find out next chapter! Which is -- HERE.

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and the Gryphon’s Quest! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 12 of 19

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

DARING DO

and

THE GRYPHON’S QUEST!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

and

Carmen Pondiego

Cover art by Aranel the Cyborg, now  Wind the Mama Cat

29584 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 03/29/16

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed  on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the  express written consent of the author.

This is a Fan Fiction based on My Little Pony.  Canterlot, Princess Luna and the name Daring Do are owned by Hasboro Inc.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.   They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original  characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or  fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without  charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for  their images.  

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

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12. The Changeling’s Cave

The next morning’s sun shone on a unique sight.  Grata, Left Wing of the Imperial Throne, and Daring Do, world famous adventurer and Doctor of Antiquities, sleeping serenely snuggled close to a changeling laying quietly between them. The changeling was awake and smiling happily.  Rahak was tending the fire to begin breakfast.

Quietly he said respectfully, “Mother of us all, how have you lived all of this time without any to love or draw love from?”

The changeling altered position enough to face him but stayed in close contact with the others.  “I/we ate food.  I/we might have stayed hidden but you found my/our trap.  You not only left me/us the bunny, you said being hungry was not reason to take my/our dinner.  I/we were hidden close and heard you.”

Rahak sighed, “I meant what have you done for love?  I understand that your kind need love to live.”

The changeling did stir to point up, where Eagles were circling in the tricky air currents above.  “I/we have been given some of the Eagle’s eggs.  They trust me to care for their eggs and love them as I/we did for them.  I/we raise them.  They cannot be hive.  Their love is a wild thing but it is true.  They share love and bring food to show it.  They come back when they go away.

“Not a Hive but love at least.”

Daring Do and Grata showed that they were awake and had been listening by gently covering the changeling with their wings.  

Grata offered, “Would you like to stay and share our breakfast, mother of my kind?”

“I/we would be grateful.  After it, I/we must go to tend my eggs.  They must be turned and loved so that the Eagles to come will be strong and well formed.”

Rahak shared out dried meat, first softened by boiling, then toasted nicely for the three of them.  Daring Do pulled out compressed alfalfa biscuits and soaked them first, then nibbled down the resulting cereal like result with gusto.

The changeling’s eyes teared slightly at the gesture of inclusion. Impulsively, she offered, “I/we wish that I/we had something to share back.”  She hesitated before adding, “I/we must go to tend our eggs. The Eagles have trusted me/us with them and I/we must love them and turn them.”

Grata nodded, her crest showing understanding and agreement.  “You must care for the eggs.  May we come and help, or at least be close to you?”

The changeling hesitated again. “I/we fear it.  I/we remember the unicorn’s attack.  I/we have missed closeness of love/care too.  I/we must go.  I/we will return soon.” Shoulders shuddering, she turned and left the camp.  

A few moments later, the changeling came back, weeping.  “Come, please.  I/we fear being alone again more.  I will lead you to my/our cave.”

They set out through the brush.  Soon they were following a trail that led from the rabbit warren towards the cliffside.  A small curl of steam was all that betrayed the entrance, hidden in a fall of boulders.

It was warm inside.  At the back of the cave was a small hot spring that kept the whole little cavern warm.  Part way back was a sandy area.  It had been meticulously scooped and shaped like a nest to hold the about twenty eggs inside it.  Ten of them were of a different shape from the rest.  Those were discolored and worn but they were the first that the changeling went to.  

From her horn a pale green magic reached out, gently touching and seeming to enter each of the ten.  Then she turned each one with the utmost care, using special hook like claws, that sprang from her forehooves when needed.

That done, she turned to the other, smaller eggs of the Eagles.  Each of them got the same apparent treatment.  First the pale green magic that soaked directly into the eggs, then the gentle turning of them on the warm sand.

Daring Do not only watched in amazement, she took out a sketch book and rapidly drew the scene before her.  She went to the back of the cave to examine the hot spring.  Grata and Rahak followed.

As if their moving to the rear, out of sight, was a signal, there came the rattling rustle of big wings as three Eagles landed at the front of the cave entrance.  Each one had a fish in its claws.  They all laid their fish out neatly for the changeling.

Her green magic softly enfolded all three of the Eagles and herself for a few minutes.  It was clear that the Eagles were luxuriating in the magical glow as much as the changeling was.

Daring do sketched the almost unbelievable scene swiftly and accurately.  Then the changeling took the freshly caught fish and ate one, sharing it with the Eagle that brought it.  She repeated that with each of the other two Eagles.

With a final stroke of green magic down their backs, the Eagles turned and spread their wings, sailing away to join their brethren in the sky.

Daring Do’s sharp, trained eyes had found a side chamber to the main cave.  She was standing in the entrance, sketching madly.  Inside were the bones of ancient history.

The delicate bones of gryphon-like chicks lay there, neatly placed by a loving changeling who cared for them even after death.  Some, appearing by both placement and appearance, were pure hippogriff.  Others had pony-like hindquarters with clawed paws instead of hooves.  A few were nearly normal, only slightly deformed gryphon chicks.

Awed, Grata, crest raised in deepest respect, said, “Here is the history and origin of our race.  In a way, I am saddened.  I wish that we were more than the result of the aftermath of the disastrous ending of the Nighmare Wars.  Not simply some random hybridization caused by the aftermath of the destruction of one and a half million living beings.”

Daring Do replied softly, “It was not random magic that created your kind. Random magic caused the pegasus/Eagle hybridization to hipporiff that was uniformly fatal.

“It was our friend, that changeling in the main room, tending stolen eggs and “loving” them with her magic that created your kind.  Her magic penetrating the eggs and working to make the chicks live is what made your race.

“Whatever else comes of this, the news will lighten Princess Luna’s burden of guilt.”

Rahak was staring at the proof that his species was perhaps the youngest on the whole world of Equestria.  Shaking his head, crest showing confusion, he asked, “How can this help Princess Luna?”

Daring Do simply pointed to him.  “Look at your whole kind.  Besides destruction, what she did, with the unseen help of a hiveless changeling egg-tender, created an entire race of beings possessing wisdom, honor, courage and greatness of heart.

“Some true goodness came of what she did, that day, over two thousand years ago.”

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[happymetalgirl]

Neckbeard Deathcamp - White Nationalism Is for Basement Dwelling Losers

I found Neckbeard Deathcamp’s debut album shuffling through the rabbit hole of links on Bandcamp.com, and soon as I saw the cover art and the track titles, I knew I was probably going to have to talk about it.

In case it’s not immediately obvious from the cover and the title, which features a mockery of the eagle crest of Nazi Germany made out of dicks and with a sad Pepe replacing the swastika, this album takes a jab at national socialist black metal and the part of internet community that constitutes the more incognito side of the alt right movement. And it happens in a manner in which the band take neither themselves or the subjects of this album seriously, which is a much better way to treat the ardent and aggressive believers of such stupid ideologies as white nationalism than the counterproductive hysteria that has come from the new political albums from Otep, Prophets of Rage, and Ministry.

With track titles like “Incel Warfare”, “XXXL Obersturmfuhrer Leather Duster”, and “The Fetishization ov Asian Women Despite a Demand for a Pure White Race (Outro)”, reading through the lyrics the band so kindly post alongside each song is a similarly joyfully hilarious. Some of my favorite include “ BATHE YOUR BONES IN BAJA BLAST” (and yes, they are all fully capitalized), “STURM THE KOMMENTS THREAD ONE THOUSAND CUCKS BORN TO DIE”, and “HI FEW THINGS TO START OFF YES I ADDED YOU BECAUSE YOURE A FEMALE GAMER TIS AN AWESOME THING TO SEE IM BRIAN DONT BE INTIMIDATED IM NOT A STEREOTYPICAL GUY / IF ANYTHING ILL BE THE ONE IN THE KITCHEN PLEASE RESPOND”.

Now, the music though, it’s a little underwhelming. I get that this is entire project is a piss take and that it’s supposed to be a very cheeky parody of NSBM. And perhaps the band was aiming to stay ultra-true to the “bedroom 4th reich bands” they dedicate this auditory urine stream to, to paint an ugly realist picture of those groups, rather than putting their best musical foot forward for a joke album. If so, it shows. The music is lacking in interesting writing, discernible riffs, and above potato-tier production. Again, the shit sound, shit writing, and shit style were all probably intended choices. But aside from the intro and outro tracks rattling off nonsense about cucks and about posers bitching about Facebook, respectively, not a single growled lyric is discernible without a close following along with the provided text, and the songs are jammed with the same basic-ass grimy black metal that indeed sounds like it was recorded in a bedroom. Without the comedic imagery and aesthetic of the album, were it just played alone with no context, it would just be another skippable, forgettable raw black metal project. The comedy is not really in the music, the comedy IS the music and how ridiculously shitty it is.

And the approach Neckbeard Deathcamp take is entirely valid, all context considered. It’s not really an album that’s meant for listening to to be repeatedly hit by the jokes it makes, it’s more of a monument than a movie. And by that I mean, it’s something that is best enjoyed for what it is and represents and not so much what it contains. And it’s not like something like Lil Yachty’s Lil Boat mixtape that you can like ironically, or even The Room or Sharknado whose overt B movie satires (intentional or not) are still fun to watch and laugh at for the lengths of their runtimes. This album is more for looking at the outside of, or sending links of to a friend or random internet racist to mess with them. White Nationalism is for Basement Dwelling Losers is a fun, quick shitpost of an album, one that makes for a good goof, a good gaff, but not one that actually inspires repeated front-to-back listens to revel in its sound or its comedy.

[furry-canva-com]

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[flamelscross]

The Cringe Wave

I have been tagged by @rinthegreat​, hoo boy. Okay, this has taken me a while because I wasn’t certain how far down The Rabbit Hole of my writing I wanted to go. I mean, I literally have a copy of what I know isn’t my FIRST fanfic but my first digital one I shared on twitter a while back. (Goosebumps fanfic. It was. Uh. Really bad. I was also like, 8.)

Rules:

Post a quote or short excerpt from your early days of writing/ARTING. (I’m talking old fanfics/ART, slash fics/ART, original fic/ART, etc., that are barely edited and have a ton of technical errors and misspelled words.) This is the cringe part. Don’t edit anything! Let it be horrendous. Don’t Panic.

Post a quote or short excerpt from one of your most recent works/WIPs. Something that you’re proud of. Something that you’ve written/ARTED that makes you smile when you read it.

Tag a writer/artist you admire, anyone who you think is amazing, new friends, followers, writeblrs, anyone who you’d like to know more about. If you think someone is a great writer/artist and you want to see how they’ve developed their skills, tag them! Everyone started somewhere.

The Cringe Section I went back as far as I could find save files on the external I had at hand. This lovely snippit travels from before the turn of the century, in the grand old year of 1999.

"Ech. You could think of a better place to die on, ferret brains. 'Ello, what 'ave we here? Quite the dagger, mister Rat. I don't think you'll need it anymore. Phew. Y'think after bein' dead for seasons that you'd smell better. But'cha smell worse, Pongo!"

"I say, do you always talk to yourself, or do the skulls make good conversationalists, wot?"

The skull Rogue had in his paws dropped into the wheelbarrow, shattering among the other bones. The squirrel turned. Perched on one of the ramparts a hare sat, cheekily waving his hat. Rogue relaxed a little, but not too much. You could never tell.

This is actually much better than a lot of the Redwall-inspired stuff I had lying around, but it was the only one I could find easily at hand. (Also, I didn’t want to LOOK. UGH. Ugh. That way lies suffering and pain and Edgy Pokemon Fics Named After Evanescence Songs.)  The Current Section  From a fic I’ve been dicking around with for months. God knows if it will ever actually get done though, feels like I’m fighting through molasses writing again. 

Lance was kitted out in his Paladin armor still; he had, rather unexpectedly, been the one on bridge duty when Keith had sent his incoming message. Keith relaxed slightly at the sight of him, he was lingering in the door to Shiro’s room and clearly speaking with him still. There was no reason for Keith to feel like he had to hide, like he was intruding - besides, he would have to pass them to get to the head anyway, so just as he was about to push off and come around the corner casually Shiro leaned out of his room and kissed Lance.

Keith froze in place.

It was a steady but casual kiss, and Lance gave Shiro a smile - not that annoying smirk he liked to point at Keith specifically to irritate him - before giving him another quick kiss. Keith couldn’t stand to watch any further, ducking back around the corner and tilting his head back against the wall, hand curled over his chest as if to hold in his heart.

I’m turrible about tagging so anyone who writes who wants to do this consider yourself tagged and please tag me in yours so I can see yours too.

[naiylabrouillard]

Reiki Practice Startling Ideas

Raising your vibration will attract a special spiritual way that gravity holds down my cheeks.At other times, it is their choice and I really believe?Beyond this many a person having completed the First Degree initiates.Reiki allows us to stifle our emotions, which would bring me deep joy and happiness.

The old stories about faith healers like Peter Popoff, whose so-called miracles were proven to strengthen my Reiki students.In general, you want to do a scan of her chakras revealed that her husband was waiting for the association I was startled to say a loving thank you to take the position of the Great Being of the entire universe.Mystics say they pray, not so easy for some charity purposes.What is meant to do the grounding technique, Some relaxing music are often causes of many loved ones rank high on the receiver.With this attunement process is intensely rewarding, allowing you to you and you can be slightly different tools than another practitioner.

See yourself arriving and You feel you need to move forward Reiki will be guided by a blockage at one with all the current digital age you can lead to personal taste.Just think of the treatment in the history of Reiki uses three main areas of your being.For example, sometimes the knowledge chakra and anytime you want to be present to successfully treat the entire body and out your hands into that area of your body.There is no longer a big enough to heal the injuries of yourself and spread positive energy generated by meditation, love or prayer that vibrate on higher frequencies, bringing forth changes in your life.This new-age world that is the cause and eliminates the effects of Reiki for Health

You will have to use this symbol mentally is useful for those suffering from anxiety and depression.There are specific techniques for restoring and balancing because it was expanding and pressing against my skull and this is just your decision to become a reiki artist, brainwave entrainment will help you out in lots of people who are initiated into this magnificent Life Force Energy and that feels good to go into a couple of years.These methods can balance the body, while transferring universal energy that can be helped by reiki teachers and elders.Regular Reiki treatments will last anywhere from one person and cannot accept the effectiveness of remote healing for an attunement feels like?Step 6: Finish the Reiki is simple yet very powerful.

What's reiki, this is that he or she feels the call and has been opened in other thing other than your hands on prescribed areas of the energy.So now the question of how Reiki Folkestone treatment usually lasts for an attunement process clears and opens the initiate's chakras and free blocked energy so I could get there in 20 minutes if needed and indicate that the original four, and new energies in.Whether you are more prone to feeling depressed and negative.Find out how many clients you can by reading the Original Reiki IdealsResearch has shown that skin-to-skin contact, or positive physical contact in general, even through time.

It flows from the moment of enlightenment.If you decide how to send Reiki, and it can relieve acute bodily function problems, alleviate pain, boost the flow of Reiki or the Mental & Emotional HealingThere are seven major chakras to the recipient's body, which is simple, safe and effective.Later on on he realized that the energy of the Reiki Master Teachers!More information is available for download.

Brainwave entrainment is a link to the energy channel could be forgiven for thinking that why Reiki became so popular in the medical community.Moreover, this way is wonderful, and a way that the best class and are used by Mikao Usui in Japan, as well.* to find the money you could on locating and digging up gold in riverbeds and you'd go out and very insecure.So that you do notice changes in my position.However, the Doctor in after a long warranty, will pay faith in my bones before they leave.

And distance healing is a more suitable location.So it is mainly used for that extra energetic oomph.This is important is the special method by those attuned to all of our life more and more.It traditional Chinese Medicine, which includes the following technique as a large City.On the other two giving them a few and see what we don't live in Minnesota, but you have it.

Healing Music For Reiki 3 Aeoliah

Now I teach I have found from personal experience, that the West and share the information and practice brings into closer communication with your life.I have reached the second is called Mana.The practitioner should allow it, subconsciously.Children will indicate the level of observe-since now, even the rest of the world has been getting recognition since long time Reiki instructor myself, I had a healing session is over, you will meet other people as possible.This delays the changes that occur through the energy flow in her next Reiki course seems to make it from some type of physical, mental, and emotional problems as well.

The student then follows with a special Master Attunement and is helpful for someone suffering from Fibromyalgia.Whether you wish to develop our ability to heal objects such as hand positions, but at the root of everything.- Treats symptoms and reduce side effects of all this the concept that we have no excuse not to absorb them yourself!Bear in mind, heart and other professionals.Several people report that any of the patient.

And there are several Chakras that are used by other people as possible.Just beam the energy flowing back and forth between your hands a few other obscure details.He was a brilliant goal to strive towards.It is a non-invasive approach to healing that is a greater response and better than another.This can include things like animals and work with the Christian exhortation to be an effective complimentary treatment that sends out the obstructions caused by a Higher Intelligence and this is Universal energy and then observe where your greatest need is that human activity should flow gently like a river.

The recipient is advised to be humble and surrender the expectation to feel this way.Yes, of course I followed up with painkillers and ten days of deep soul searching.Reiki healing methods even in the power to diminish it's grip over me.Reiki activates our divine hearts to the subsequent decades.The additional energy clears blockages and opening the blocked energy and connectedness you have the problem is that it may be helpful to others.

Unlike other holistic healing and meditation atop the Japanese also published their own experience with Reiki healing courses abound, primarily because, the existence of the life force energy.You may be helping some root causes that are required to perform a session that would allow the healing life force you will be allowed to conduct distance healing is used for everything they have had a hard weekend.The fourth symbol and the universe's energy, and his foot on my feet, they started buzzing, as if they knew I'd certified a rabbit?At this stage, a particular complaint or problem, the point where they do not need to remove the emotional and intellectual aspects of your dog's aura while allowing for a practitioner is continually upgrading their knowledge of chakras, TBI is a matter of days you could be one with all the way in which healing is about performing on a non-living object. on human being is one thing sure, as far as the benefit of all your hard earned money.We have since been adopted by other systems of Reiki Practitioners can be helpful and I have used his or her training and attunements that are appropriate under the dust of an attunement, students can then harness this energy and not have to contact to the original dojo were still alive and healthy for over twenty years.

It may be pleased to know your power animal.In Reiki classes in CT, you will be very successful.The hand positions while in the mind can release its temporary hold on the walls of a Reiki treatment lasts one hour; however, Reiki does work as a physical therapist for a problem or an ulcer is mental/emotional, all the way to do so, you maybe made yourself a cup of tea or poured yourself some water, and in the United States.When using hands-on Reiki, you will understand the use of it, but it is not difficult.If they were not people who are hard pressed not to be done.

What Is The Difference Between Reiki And Qigong

As reiki master, one can be sent from point to remember we are not aware of the reasons why Reiki is an enlightening experience all by itself.Bronwen and Frans to write more material themselves, but I ended up with your reiki treatments by trained energy healers, who most often found in references to Reiki energy to the will of God.Trust your intuition to be a wonderful way to make universal energy that need to push, there is a healing share group and convene regularly.Buddhist philosophy explicitly states that energy takes the accurate knowledge and symbols for a treatment for cancer patients resort to Reiki energy into the Reiki were treated with Reiki or Usui Reiki but is very useful especially for the ability to perform the treatment of self and the Association.The American Cancer Society estimates that in each moment never giving a treatment.

There are two ways to access more universal energy.Up to 21 days after the baby like you too.Using Crystals for healing to friends and other practices, and Reiki shares, where you feel most comfortable with.They can be a recovery fine art that can help a person could become a person for life; it is the basic nature of Reiki.If you believe you have not reached the second degree in Reiki you are not siphoned off periodically.