#people going to heaven without dying- mysterious disappearances but in a good way

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Ever After: Chapter 1

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Stories end one day once they begin. With that in mind, one might deem clinging to themselves, to other people or to anything else in the world as a little foolish. Same for how fiercely their heart was burning. Or how it cried for these things. It would all disappear like a dream eventually. One could think that even just putting in some effort was meaningless. Yet it had started.

Born through some sort of cue, anyone would breathe. Open their eyes. Learn to let out their voice. Figure how to walk. Come to understand what love was. Receive affection. Find out that it was a sickness, and either stop or give continuity to it. Nobody was taught how to cure it. There were also those who never even once accepted it from anyone.

Whatever the case, no one was allowed to stop for as long as they were part of this story, of this world. While living, people would be continuously be involved with death. But if morning came, night would also follow. Hunger would abate and sleep would invite one to the floor. Even after losing love, people craved for it. With its eyes cast down to forfeit, the world gradually emitted a new shine. Manifestation of beauty and hideous collapses were in progress at the same time. There was no eternity, but things went on. The story would continue. The world would go round. Even if it would meet its end one day.

Even without you there, morning would come.

   Blue eyes opened.

Purple flower petals fluttered gently in front of her eyes and passed her. They touched her as if to cause tickles, and then disappeared. The illusions of the past that had been surfacing dissipated slowly.

Her wild beast self and her named self. All of the past dissolved into reality, dragged back into the present. Here, there was neither a beast nor the man that it used to call “Major”.

The boat lethargically moved through a large river, an Auto-Memories Doll on it. The rowing of the boater, who wore a big hat, was quite something. For it to cause a chance meeting between her and her past, that had to be a good boater.

The girl, Violet – Violet Evergarden – was looking for someone.

Whenever she opened her eyes, she would wind up doing it. Looking for the person who had given her as much as he could give and then vanished. Looking for the person that she had hurt as much as she could hurt and not managed to protect.

Of course, he was nowhere in sight. There was no way he would be in such a place. She knew it. However, she would end up searching. Her most beloved lord had supposedly died long ago, yet she would find herself searching for him. Even an apparition would do; she only wanted to see him at least one more time.

The world he was gone from had livened up anew and its colors were vibrant. Violet had to live in said world. She had to live in this fresh hell. She could no longer receive orders. Neither could she chase after his back. There were limits to what she could do.

It was easy for people to tell her to move on. However, that was a great difficulty for her. Violet had been told to live. Just as ordered, without attempting to die, she was living while burdened with this difficulty.

“Miss, what is it you’re looking for?”

At that time, Violet was still not a full-fledged human.

   The Rose and the Auto-Memories Doll

   “Wait,” I prayed.

The dark red ribbons tying her golden hair. The pleats on her white ribbon-tie dress. The light blue umbrella. As if playing around, all of these things fluttered in the wind.

——Wait for me.

It was hard to breathe. Flowers from the jacaranda trees were blocking my field of vision. Their beauty erased everything that could be seen. Yet they were nothing but a hindrance now. What I yearned for wasn’t them.

——Please, wait for me.

Tears welled up. I didn’t know whether they were tears of sadness, relief or frustration.

I didn’t understand anything anymore. What was I doing? I didn’t know. Surely, I had never known. I didn’t even know that I was hurting.

——Wait.

If there was one thing I knew, it was that I wanted her to take me away from here.

“Violet, wait.”

That was all.

——So please, wait up; don’t leave me behind.

   It was spring. When it came to the four seasons, spring was surely the best one.

I first met her at a time when lilac blossoms were in bloom. Lightly, nimbly, they fluttered down. It was a season where purple flower petals danced in the sky. Spring. A season of sprouting.

What color came to people’s minds when they talked about spring, I wondered. It was probably a different one depending on where each of them lived. Pink cheery blossoms were scattered around higher lands. I had heard that bougainvillea flowers dyed a certain region in pure white. Apparently, the sight of green stems stretching out from within the snow thaw was the face of spring in some places. As for me, when the topic was spring, it had to be jacaranda trees.

The Jacaranda River was located among the mountains of the d’Arthur Region at southwest of the continent. It was a large river surrounded by steep mountains that rose like giants. Bearing the same name, jacaranda trees were planted along said river as if to enclose it, and during the flowering seasons, the color of the water surface would turn violet.

Ordinary trees had their branches, fruits and leaves pointed downward, but jacaranda flowers grew pointing upward, almost like a hand holding a bouquet. Just one of those flowering trees was already a feast to the eyes, so it was simply magnificent when there were many of them together. The sky was blue; the earth was a cloud of purple. Even God would easily let out a sigh when looking down at this scene from the heavens.

There were countless small communities in the vicinities of the Jacaranda River, and in order to go from the outside to a piece of land that had a settlement on it, one basically had to move by boat. Hence why it was so easy for the people who lived in this neighborhood to become sailors as a job. The pay, in contrast, was not so rewarding, but not to the point of making anyone go hungry. People coming from other places would gather into crowds to see the jacaranda trees during springtime and there was demand from the locals even outside of the busy seasons. So I would continue on my job here forever and never lose it.

In this world, inside this little story of mine, I had an encounter with her.

“Excuse me; I heard that there is a village beyond this point. Is it possible to cross the river?”

A foreign object appeared in that tiny world of mine.

“Hello. Yes, I go there often. This is how much it costs and the payment is in advance.”

Her name would eventually roar throughout the business, but at this time, she was a ghostwriter girl who had barely started to travel the world.

“I do not mind. It will be my pleasure.”

“We usually put the names of the customers on an account book. May I have your name?”

That was how she and I met.

“It is Violet Evergarden.”

To be honest, she was the kind of person who could cause people’s time to stop in fascination for a brief moment. This ferry port was crowded in spring. There were many other people around, so of course, I could spot several beautiful men and women who showed up for sightseeing, but she was unlike any of them. No matter what background was behind her, she would only be a strange object in it. Be it rainy or sunny days, winter or spring days. Regardless of whatever the world was clad in, one would find their eyes going towards her. Beauty was not the only reason for it. Her scent was different from that of other living things.

——It’s similar to the feeling I got... when seeing a deer in the mountains for the first time.

Right, a wild beast. She was like a beautiful wild beast. If such a stunning beast appeared in front of anyone’s eyes all of a sudden, they would surely stare fixatedly at it. This one had blue eyes and its mane was golden.

“Please treat me well.”

“Ah, yes.”

Her voice was clear, her gestures elegant.

“Is there anything wrong with my appearance?”

“No, no; not at all. Nothing at all.”

She was full of mysteries that other people would not be allowed to touch so easily.

Her outfit might also be at fault. She was well-dressed in a way that one wouldn’t see around this area. A Prussian-blue jacket, a white ribbon-tie dress and cocoa-brown boots that could be deemed as brand-new. An emerald brooch shone radiantly over the ribbon tie. I had but one toy similar to her when I was a child. That young woman was literally just like a doll. On top of it, even the name I asked for matched her lovely looks, to the point I felt like humming without thinking.

“Ms. ‘Violet Evergarden’. All... right. Now, if you please.”

It was a good name. Like an actor’s. I had never watched a play or anything of the sort, though.

“Thank you very much for your patronage today. I am the safest operator around here. Boater Valentine.”

Once the name was written down and the fare was received, my work began.

The customers would be hesitant when getting on the boat regardless of whether they were men or women, but Violet differed from them. She got on it without a sound, quickly sat down and postured herself in waiting for me to start rowing.

Whatever thoughts she was engrossed in, she quietly closed her eyes after taking a glance at the scattering jacaranda flowers. It was a day of warm sunlight and pleasant wind, so she might have become sleepy. The comfortable silence continued for a while. I thought about leaving her alone, but perhaps because the petals that rode on the wind and flew about had tickled her cheeks, she opened her blue eyes. The scenery of earlier was not supposed to be any different, yet she looked left and right as if searching for someone.

“Miss, what is it you’re looking for?”

As I asked so, Violet moved her neck with a twitch like a small animal and looked my way. After a short moment, the answer came in a low voice with an “it is nothing”. She seemed a bit dispirited.

She looked like an uncommunicative person, so I did think she might not go along with a boater’s talk, but wanting a change in mood, I kept on speaking, “Miss, you are in luck. Now is the best time to view them. The jacarandas.”

“Is that so?”

She was kind of a weird girl. Her manner of speech was weak in emotion.

“For me, this is the time to make money. When this period passes, people stop coming to this remote region. This is my main occupation, but many people do boat rowing as a side-job too. When spring is over, they do farming. Miss... it does not seem that you are here for sightseeing. Is it for work?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a job related to boats?”

“No.”

“My, wrong guess. You don’t get scared of the swaying, so I thought you were used to it.”

“Is that how it looks?”

After we spoke that much, Violet finally stopped searching and moved her gaze towards me.

“You do. It feels like you have no fears.”

Silence drifted about. Rather than ignoring me, she seemed to be having difficulty choosing her words.

Until this mysterious beauty spoke up, I was smoothly cutting the surface of the water with the oar. Maybe due to her baggage being heavy, the propelling was slower than I had predicted. She was a slim young woman no matter how I looked at her, so her luggage was probably the one to blame for the rowing’s bad flow. Come to think of it, a low screeching sound ensued whenever she moved. She might have some sort of manufactured item on her.

“You are right. I have been with the navy before, so...”

Oops, the conversation was back.

“Is your family from the military?”

“No, just me. My military service record was ultimately the army. But before the army... the person that I served was a navy officer.”

The reply was covered in enigmas. Her profile was cold. The way she talked was perfectly fitting of a mysterious beauty.

I thought this strange client was a little scary, but let out my curiosity just a bit more. I had never gone outside of these lands, so I loved chatting with the customers.

“I can’t believe it. To think that someone like you used to be a soldier...”

She had no idea what the description “like you” represented. This impression showed through just slightly in her facial expression.

I rode with many people, so I sort of had my own theories about them. I felt like students from renowned schools would make this into a laughingstock if I were to call it a “philosophy”, but... people communicated the actual state of their emotions through the blinking of their eyes, the way they opened their mouths, the highs and lows of their voices and other such things.

They were extremely scarce in this girl, but I could perceive them. Seriously. I was an expert at “observing” others.

“Do you get troubled when people coax you or something like that?”

As I asked out of curiosity, Violet once again had a question mark over her face, but after a while, she blinked as if to say, “I have arrived to an answer for the inquiry” and gave me an unexpected reply. “In my travels, I am sometimes invited by people to become their bodyguard after saving them. I am an Auto-Memories Doll, so I decline them politely,” she said.

I was asking in a romantic sense, so that could not be considered an answer to my question.

What a strange doll. What an odd girl.

——My life would be wonderful if I were born with these looks.

On first meetings, one’s eyes would go to people’s physical appearance first and foremost. Everyone had a preferred type of face, right? I accidentally ended up comparing hers to mine.

Perhaps as I was always wearing a big straw hat so that my skin wouldn’t be damaged by sunburns, my hair was squashed. Even if I took off the hat, the platinum-blond color could get me mistaken for a grizzly old man. Other girls of the same age as me sparkled so much, and yet, just what was I? Being in the same space as them was embarrassing... No, let’s leave what the eyes could see aside. I should serve the customer; serve the customer.

“Beautiful here, isn’t it? These are jacaranda flowers.”

“‘Jacaranda’...”

“Ah, they sell fruits on that boat over there. Want to buy any?”

“No.”

“Do I talk too much? Ah, look! That bird is very rare. Can you tell it has the color of emeralds? It’s called ‘gemstone bird’. The feathers they drop are my treasures.”

“It is beautiful.”

“I think so too! I might get along well with you. What do you usually do to pass the time?”

During my and Violet’s short boat-riding trip, she told me the following:

She worked for a certain postal company from a military nation in the far south named Leidenschaftlich.

She was a newbie Auto-Memories Doll there.

Through her current commission, it was her first time coming to these lands.

Before arriving here, she drove two groups of bandits away.

She was told by her boss to bring him local specialties of this area as souvenir.

That was it. She had many stories about her boss.

“So the president and employees are close in your company, huh.”

“Is that so... No, you are right. Our company has just barely been built and there are few employees. If the number of unit members is small, the distance between them and the commander naturally grows shorter. Yes, to someone like me, whose origins are unknown, he is a compassionate person.”

“You don’t have to talk like that about yourself...”

“It is true. I am an orphan and do not know where I was born.”

I added “orphan” to the information about Violet that I had inside me. The things that had happened to this person dictated the air about her, I thought. Was that the reason why she seemed somewhat lonely?

“But now I have people who look after me.”

“Your boss.”

“Yes. And a kind elderly couple as well.”

“Aah, good for you. Being alone is sad. If you have someone to be with, that’s better. So you used to be in the military but you’re not a soldier anymore now that the war ended. You got yourself a new job and family, is what you’re saying.”

“Yes.”

“You’re sailing smoothly!”

“No.”

Even though I expressly tried to conclude it with good vibes, it was denied.

“I have many problems.” There was a slight creasing between Violet’s eyebrows. “I don’t yet know if I have the aptitude to be an Auto-Memories Doll... I was given a lady’s education and I have studied languages and other such things, but it is hard to say whether or not I can make effective use of that. I have retained the fighting power... but I am in a state where I do not know how to use it.” The tone of her voice faded a little at the end.

“How are you working like that now?” I asked purely out of concern. After all, she was an Auto-Memories Doll.

I came across all sorts of clients, but she was my first Auto-Memories Doll one. It was a job in which people used ghostwriting as their weapon and rushed around the world. I heard there were many women in that occupation, but I never thought a girl as old as me would be doing it. She could very well be writing for a princess from some other country while I was here, rowing a boat.

“Letters have standard sentences. In most cases, if we add the desired content to those standard sentences that we have memorized, they will take form.”

“Hm, hm, I see.”

“However, it cannot be said that letter you wished to write so much to the point of requesting an Auto-Memories Doll was achieved with this. If we cannot correspond to the expectations, we are failures as tools. Therefore, we are once entrusted with the request’s contents, suggest a few types of details, choose the best ones and accept additional demands, should there be any... then repeat. There are also times when my abilities are not enough...”

“You mean contents you can’t write?”

“Any sort of letter can be shaped to a certain extent as long as there is time. It is a combination, after all. However, I am not well-versed in the art of conversation that entertains people. I am told that I am ‘boring’ or ‘unfriendly’ and am often dismissed by the clients.”

She somewhat convinced me. I was terribly sorry for that. But it might indeed be difficult for someone to feel like composing a letter in a fun way with her. If they were hiring her for serious contents, that was a different story.

“Moreover, we normally have to understand the circumstances that our clients are in... Let’s see; it is similar to, for example, approaching someone who is injured. I am supposed to write such letters, but I do not yet understand what a good letter is. It is hard for me to say that I can manage it... In the end, I do not know if I have aptitude to be an Auto-Memories Doll. I am always asking myself whether or not it is all right for me to work in these conditions.”

Perhaps due to thinking a tad too hard, Violet said something incomprehensible – that “it would be much more efficient if our company’s president became an Auto-Memories Doll”. Wasn’t a president supposed to take care of the management?

But, surely... for Violet to be saying something like that about him, he had to be the kind of person who excelled at being considerate.

With the flow of the conversation, I tried asking what I was most interested in, “W-What do you do about love letters and the like?”

“Love letters?”

“Yes.”

It was a field of great concern for someone who had never had any sort of relation with it since birth.

“That is also a combination. You throw in verses from famous poems or songs... Classic romance novels are valuable reference materials as have quite a lot of rhetoric.”

As I received an answer much more direct than I had imagined, almost like boiled vegetables with no taste but their own, my shoulders dropped. I had expected her to reply that she used her own love experiences as reference, but Violet was an extremely serious bookworm. I was a bit ashamed of myself.

I then started the conversation over, “Must be hard that your first job is kind of all about stuff you’re not good at.”

As I said so, Violet dropped her gaze and spoke, “No, we have a bright female Auto-Memories Doll who is the complete opposite of me, so she is put in charge of cases like the ones I just mentioned. In contrast, a large number of transcription cases that are not letters but instead invoices and contract documents, or that require fast writing, come to me. Describing exactly what I see is my field of expertise.”

“I see; it’s a matter of having the right person in the right place. Your boss’s administration is good. So you’ve been managing it one way or another until now.”

“Yes. But this is my first business trip for ghostwriting.”

“F-First!” I accidentally let out a loud voice.

“Yes, my first.”

This girl was on her first ghostwriting business trip. I was sending her on a boat for that. It somewhat felt like I was involved with an awfully grandiose story, which made my heart race.

“Gets you nervous, doesn’t it?” I sought for agreement, but the one feeling nervous was me. “Will you be okay?”

But Violet did not seem to be okay.

“On ghostwriting business trips, the task is to finish it on the spot, and you must respond immediately. I cannot use the means that I have been using until now, such as taking time to write or securing time by cutting sleep and eating short.”

That may have been the reason for her aspect of weariness. Still, I was shocked. When we, boaters, did not want to take our boats out, we would refuse rides even if there were clients. It was a job where we had to have customers, but we decided the discretion on our own. I did not let the ones with a bad attitude on my boat ever again even if they asked. Above all, not eating was impossible. No one could row a boat if they were hungry or sleepy.

“You have to eat... Isn’t that the most important? And you have to sleep too!”

“The most important is accomplishing my missions.”

I could somewhat understand why this girl’s boss was so concerned about her. Since she was an ex-soldier, she was unable to get used to a peaceful life, and the job she had earned required a variety of emotions that did not fit her, so she was competing with knowledge and effort to make up for it. Talk about dangerous.

“But taking care of your health is also part of work.”

Violet cast down her golden eyelashes. What I said probably made her think.

“As I thought, I was better off as a soldier,” she whispered this bit by bit, out of the blue. As she caressed her emerald brooch, she fixed on it a stare that seemed to be burning.

“How come?”

“When I was in the military... all I had to do was chase after one person and protect him. I was always searching for an adult to follow.”

How was I supposed to describe this girl?

“I found myself the best master of all and used to live my life serving him.”

Rather than sincere, she was too candid. Almost like, yes, a child who knew nothing.

“It would have been great if it were like that forever.”

That was why, most likely...

“So he was someone important to you.”

...she honestly thought as much.

“More than anything.”

Her words probably held no lies.

“That’s good.”

She truly was currently apart from someone important to her and losing heart.

“But the war ended and everything changed. Things are different now. I have been separated from my master, and I must journey around the world all by myself with words and pens as my weapons.”

My country was a prosperous land that had not involved itself with the Continental War. Ever since I was born, I had never once enlisted. I had nothing to respond to her statements. That even though I had nosily asked so many questions – what a person I was.

“Erm... hum, can I say something?”

I wanted to cheer her up. But I had no idea how.

As I faltered, Violet shook her head. “I am sorry...”

She started apologizing for some reason, making me even more confused.

“I spoke too much. Forgive me for... tainting your ears.”

“Why? You didn’t do that at all.”

“I am told not to talk in too much detail about my history.”

“I-Isn’t it okay, though?”

“I must do as told.”

“But—”

“My deepest apologies. I said things that could disrupt you while you are in the middle of work.”

“B-But—”

“My deepest apologies.”

“Isn’t it okay?! You and I are just a customer and boater who can’t see each other anywhere but here!” again, I spoke loudly on accident.

I became a bit flustered. After all, she was apologizing. Even though she was just answering my insistent questions. Even though she was burdened with so much that she wound up unintentionally spilling it to a stranger like me.

“After you get out of this boat, we have no way of knowing what will happen to each other. So please never mind it.”

It was because I asked so persistently that the things she had been holding overflowed.

“It’s all good.”

There was something I could say exactly because I was a boater of a remote region.

“It’s all right,” I affirmed strongly, wanting to do something about those wavering eyes and her aspect of uncertainty. I might have been huffing fiercely too.

Violet looked at me with a gaze that looked like she had just woken up from a dream. And then she nodded with a meek face. “Yes.” Even though she had just nodded once, after a few tens of seconds later, she nodded again while saying, “Yes.”

After that, we eventually reached the shore without talking much.

From what I had heard, Violet’s patron was Mr. Lockhart, an elderly man famous for being rich even within his community. He was already quite old, so it was said that he did not have long.

“You go straight down the road. You should be able to see the village after a while, and Mr. Lockhart’s mansion is the one on highest ground. It has a white roof. The neighbor houses are all extravagant too, so don’t mistake it.”

“All right.”

“On the way back! If you also feel like going back together, look for me!”

“Yes, Mr. Valentine.”

   Perhaps because I had asked for it, Violet actually did look for and called out to me as her ride for the way back. Maybe as I had listened to her life story, it kind of did not feel like we were strangers anymore.

After I intimidated and dispersed the other boatmen trying to take her as their customer, I asked, “How was the job? Did it go well?”

“I do not know.”

Silence.

“At first, he yelled at me, then crumpled the letters I wrote into balls one after another and tossed them away.”

“That’s horrible.”

“But once I presented improvement suggestions twenty-three times, he said he had ‘been defeated by my persistence’ and accepted the ghostwriting.”

“Ms. Violet, you actually have a strong competitive spirit, don’t you?”

Later on, according to what I had heard from people of his neighborhood, Mr. Lockhart was a mean geezer who, apparently high-strung from fighting against a disease, would hire people in order to bully them into quitting. My goodness. He was the type of person whom I would not want to associate myself with even once, so I guessed the fact that Violet would not have to deal with him anymore after just this one time was a blessing in disguise.

However, a few months thereafter...

   “I will be ghostwriting a letter to Mr. Lockhart’s grandchild for a few months.”

...she showed up again holding a travel bag in one hand and reunited with me. Our interactions continued from that point onward.

I did not know what to name my involvement with Violet. We were not friends. We only ever met due to occupational matters and I never saw Violet other than when she came over for work.

“How did things go after that? Is business going well? We’re in the off season now, so I’m pretty free.”

“It seems that people of the postal industry are seeking not to take work away from those of the same line of business. We, Auto-Memories Dolls, usually receive work from the area surrounding our companies, but the number of business trips is increasing. However, it is hard to say if we are on track. Our president looks over his account book every day.”

As we were both from the hospitality businesses, we had worries in common. So I was also happy.

“My wallet gets really empty in the off season too. Well, I can live just fine with the amount I save up in spring... but I have to find a different job when I want something pricey.”

“A different job. Mr. Valentine, for how many years have you been a boater?”

I reminded myself of my ordinary life’s number of years and work history inside my head.

“Erm, I’ve been rowing for two years. But before that, I was something like a handyman, working in an orchard, taking care of other people’s babies, doing cleaning and washing, running errands and being an apprentice at a restaurant’s kitchen.”

“That is a wide variety.”

“My family’s poor. Dad and Mom are gambling addicts too... We’re so poor that we can’t survive without all of us working. I was eight when they told me I had to get a job because our finances weren’t going well.”

“That is commendable for someone so young.”

“No, Ms. Violet, you’re probably as old as me, right? Eh, how old are you?”

   Perhaps she and I really did have a karmic connection, as I was always working whenever she came to these lands.

“Ms. Violet! If it isn’t Ms. Violet...!”

“Mr. Valentine. I was looking for you.”

“M-Me?”

“Yes. You told me to ask for you the first time we rode. I did this last time as well. Will you take out your boat today?”

“Of course! C-Can I ask again? You were looking for me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so happy! Same for me! I wonder every day if you’re coming anytime soon... Now, now, customer! Please get onto the boat! Go ahead, go ahead. I have tons of things I want to tell you! I see~! So you were looking for me~!”

“Yes, I was.”

   The air about her was like that of a tensely stretched thread, yet as time went by, she became able to show different facial expressions.

“You can’t smile?”

“No. I cannot say I have complaints about it, but... I receive such opinions from the clients quite frequently. For now, I am making physical attempts on it. Mr. Lockhart often lifts my cheeks. He tells me to practice. Yet... it does not work very well.”

“That old man is teaching you weird stuff... It’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone pick their cheeks up to form a smile.”

“Mr. Valentine... you excel at smiling. Do you have any trick for it?”

“Eh~, I’m just being carefree.”

“That is difficult for me.”

“Hm~, but that’s a secret of success.”

“‘Secret of success’...”

“This place is a dock, after all. For a kid like me to be working among men, I at least have to be good at acting friendly, or else I can’t survive.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. That’s why this is something I’ve ingrained in me. Ms. Violet, you’re an ex-soldier, aren’t you? You couldn’t be carefree in the battlefield, so there is no helping that, right?”

“But... that has nothing to do with my clients.”

“Hm~, trying to be better is never too much, but from my standpoint as someone who is also in the hospitality business, I don’t think that is completely indispensable. We give the clients what they seek and they pay the fee. It is essentially this kind of equal relationship. You do not have to abase yourself more than necessary. Customers naturally come to people that do a fine job even if they are unsociable.”

“Is that so...?”

“It is. Someone who instead is friendly but can’t do the job at all is a problem. The fact that you became Mr. Lockhart’s purveyor means you write good letters. It seems he is very particular about his own matters. Y’know, you’re fit for people like that.”

“If so, that is good.”

“Don’t make that face. Shall I lift your cheeks?”

   The things we had to talk about with each other whenever we met increased exactly because we were far apart from one another.

“Speaking of which, you are looking for someone, right? Did you find any clues?”

Our respective circumstances slipped in and out of sight.

“No...”

“But Auto-Memories Dolls have to go to all sorts of places, so there is still hope.”

“Yes. I also think that is the good point of being an Auto-Memories Doll.”

“That so...? Ms. Violet, did you choose to be an Auto-Memories Doll to search for someone?”

“No, perhaps I should say it is wishful thinking. I do not truly believe that I can find him. However...”

By that time, I had realized what the brooch was.

“...I can keep on living while thinking ‘what if’. That is the kind of job it is.”

That it was something related to the important person she had mentioned.

“Is that so...?” while speaking with a laidback voice, I incidentally thought about what that would be in my case.

What was I attached to enough that I would be this obsessed over it?

“You’re the opposite of me. I’m waiting for my family here.”

——If I do have any of that, it’d be the boat my dad used to ride.

“Do you live far away from each other?”

——The house that we all lived in together.

“Huuum... How should I put it? I was sent out to a different town for domestic service when I was eight... and I was completely convinced that my parents and older brother were living here.”

None of what I was attached to was things that could remain in my grasp. It was this land itself.

“When I came back, there was only our house. My family wasn’t in it.”

It was not something I could walk around with.

“They might’ve moved somewhere else... because they hated life here.”

Violet did not frown or make a puzzled face. She just quietly lent me an ear.

“I ran away from the place where I was doing domestic service, so I guess I missed their notice. I think they are troubled now. That they are looking for me. I also want them to come pick me up, but they never do...”

I myself understood. I knew I was saying odd stuff. Weird, wasn’t it? I was aware. If she called me crazy, it would be just the expected.

“Mr. Valentine, should you not be looking for them?”

That question gouged out just a little bit of the weakest part of my heart. Yes, just a little. It pierced me exactly because the person who asked it had stood up from her suffering and was running onward.

“If I leave this place, it’d be a problem...”

But Violet did not say I was wrong at all.

“It be a problem if, by any chance, my brother – no, either Dad or Mom decided to come back...”

She merely whispered a single sentence: “understood”.

   Before I realized, I had started looking for her at the dock.

——Is she coming today? Not yet? She might come tomorrow.

   “It’s been a while...! Has anything changed? We got to meet again because Mr. Lockhart is still alive, huh.”

“It has. Just that the personnel at my workplace increased again. Mr. Lockhart’s voice is so lively when he is angry that one would not imagine he has a disease. Mr. Valentine, what about you...?”

“Y’see, I’ve been going to study lately! I was influenced by you. I can read easy words, but I never went to school, so I’m bad at writing.”

“I could not write either. However, it should be all right as long as you practice.”

“I don’t have enough paper to practice writing, so I’ve been writing on the ground with a stick these days.”

“If you wish, please use these.”

“Eh, what are those? T-They look expensive. I can’t.”

“I also received paper and pens from someone just like this and began my studies. You can.”

“N-No can do! I can’t get something like that from my customer...!”

“You can.”

   As the seasons passed, as the days and months went by, her aspect of anxiousness from when we first met diminished. She steadily built up a record of accomplishments as an Auto-Memories Doll.

“That umbrella is cute. It looks good with your clothes.”

“It is a gift. I also... find it adorable.”

“Is that a passionate request for a relationship from your client?”

“No, that is not it. This is a display of gratitude for my work from Mr. Oscar, the novelist...”

Much faster than I had imagined, yet surely, she was elegantly climbing up that brilliant stairway.

“Heeh, a novelist. I don’t know much about him, but that’s amazing. You might be working at some royal palace one of these days!”

“I have.”

“Eh?”

“I have. I wrote love letters on behalf of a princess from a country named Drossel.”

   She became someone well-known around the neighborhood in no time.

How should I describe her vigor? Was “forceful enough to knock down birds in flight” too weird? She was an irresistible force that people were drawn to en masse. Somehow or other, she made a great leap in a blink of life.

Her popularity attracted more popularity, and it was amazing that her work had developed so much. There were such people at the dock too, but this could not be achieved without effort. But it did not look like there were ambitions or dreams to Violet’s efforts. Dream chasers had different eyes than ordinary people. She... her blue eyes were as quiet as a midwinter sea no matter in what season I peeked into them.

Her gaze made it seem like she was looking at me from a different world. As if she were staring up at everything from the bottom of the ocean. Yes, it was that kind of look.

She was there, yet was not. Her blue eyes were mirrors that made me feel like I was looking at myself before realizing it, when I was supposed to be looking at her. She herself was also this sort of person, with an attitude as if her mind was elsewhere.

Her fame... if I were to use a metaphor, she was a broken doll who got praised as a result of single-mindedly working on repeat. That was how it seemed in my eyes. Awful way of saying it, huh? But the Violet Evergarden I had first met had been hurt. She was just a hurt girl.

So I was honestly surprised. Because, at first, she didn’t look at all like a girl who would rush up into Auto-Memories Doll stardom from that point. Yes, she did not.

That might be due to the way we met. If I had met the current Violet instead, I would surely have thought, “Such a full-fledged Auto-Memories Doll”. But although she was indeed an eccentric girl, she did not look like that to me. To me... To me, she looked like nothing but a girl from the same generation as myself, stagnated in a world that she was tossed into. An uneasy girl, who had just started working. The type that definitely could be found anywhere all around the world.

One that was also similar to me. From that day, at that time.

“Dad, Mom, Big Bro, where are you?”

She was like me back when I was at a loss as I decided to live by myself.

With the passing years, Violet Evergarden had bloomed to the world into a marvelous lady before I even knew. Just as her name suggested, she was a girl who had blossomed beautifully.

No matter what, I ended up comparing her with myself... Even though we were reuniting after a long while, even though I was happy, I felt too sad for some reason and wound up saying lots of lame things.

“Ms. Violet... you kind of became an unreachable person all of a sudden, huh.”

It was because, even though I had supposedly lived just like her in the same four seasons and the same time that she had rushed through, I was still an insignificant boater.

“My company is still based in Leidenschaftlich, just as before.”

“No, I wasn’t talking in terms of physical distance. It’s... a spiritual thing.”

Silence.

“You really are admirable. You know, when I think that you’re doing such an amazing job while I’m here, boating without a care in the world... it’s like...”

“Mr. Valentine, you are also working every day.”

“It’s not like boating is a bad job or anything.”

I also didn’t think there was high or low when it came to occupations. Yet I would end up comparing them.

“I quite enjoy it. Rowing the boat, that is. But somehow... like... when I look at you, Ms. Violet... I think of myself. I wonder if I’m okay like this. Because surely, there should be something else I want to do.”

Silence.

“If only I could change myself too...”

“Mr. Valentine.”

“Yes?”

“I felt that we have become closer than back when we first met.”

“Eh?”

I was in shock. Because I thought she wasn’t the kind of person to say something like that.

What did people call this?

“It became a habit for me to look for you immediately around here.”

Those words that were almost as if someone was nestling close to you.

“As you have let me on countless times, you have been recorded within me.”

No, that wasn’t it. It wasn’t that she didn’t say those things – she couldn’t say them. After all, Violet had told me when we first met. That she couldn’t write letters that felt like approaching someone who was injured.

“I see.”

She had been worried that she should leave it to someone else; that she wasn’t qualified.

“Have we become far apart?”

Yet she had become able to do it. By practicing a lot. Involving herself with people.

“Mr. Valentine, you always find me as well. Whenever I arrive here, instantly.”

This girl had become able to do what she was worst at.

“Yep.”

But even now, it didn’t change that she would touch her emerald brooch when she was uncertain.

“Have we...”

“We haven’t...! Sorry. I’m sure I could spot you even if we passed each other in a different city... Sorry, it’s just... wrong. I was wrong...”

Violet had grown up.

“Sorry...”

That day, when we first met, she had been fretting about being able to write letters that could draw close to someone. Having nurtured her heart through many people and a lot of time, she was now even able to say these kinds of things. This girl was properly fighting against the fate that she had been granted.

Aah, I wanted to be like Violet Evergarden.

I wanted to be like this girl. I really did.

I was still young. I could start over anywhere else. But I did not do that. I couldn’t throw away my family. I couldn’t. Ever thought about throwing your family away?

I... I had never.

Because it was family. People I shared my blood with. We were supposed to be together, right? Parents protecting their children and children yearning for their parents – that was the norm, wasn’t it? When I looked around me, that was what people were doing. Was it all lies?

Why, why didn’t my family manage to be normal? Why was normal so difficult for me? Because I was stupid?

I had gone to a stranger’s place when I was eight years old because my parents had told me to. I went with them as my parents said, “Go with this person to help them out; you’ll get payment for it”. I had the feeling that my parents had been smiling. My brother was the only one who had a serious look – no, he was making a face like he was about to cry as he pulled the sleeve of my clothes over and over. He used to be such a scary brother who was quick to hit me on the head and scold me, but only at that time did he exhaust himself from crying.

“You can’t, okay? Listen to what your Big Bro says. You can’t go to that place,” he had told me.

I remember being extremely perplexed. I only had the impression that my brother was always angry and hungry. He never behaved like he cherished me or anything of the sort. Honestly, I used to hate him.

“But they’ll be angry if I don’t do as they say.”

So I had shaken off the hands that were grasping my sleeve. The expression my brother had back then – those eyes looked like everything in front of him had transformed into rubble.

My brother had said one last time with a tearful voice, “Hey, you can’t; please... don’t go. I won’t hit you anymore, ‘kay? ‘Kay?”

Even so, I had not agreed. Because I was afraid that my parents would get mad.

I hadn’t seen my brother since. Thinking back on it now, he might have actually had affection for me.

As for my parents, had that been something they couldn’t avoid? I still didn’t know. But to put it bluntly, they had sold me.

It was not something so unusual. This area was remote, rural and still rooted in such customs. That might still be my case even now. I was living in a land I had once left, disguised so that no one would know it was me. It would be terrible if I were sold by someone again. So I had made myself up. An unknown boy who had showed up out of nowhere. An outsider who had arrived before anyone knew it. That was me.

I was a huge moron who couldn’t throw away her family even though they had thrown me away.

I ran away from the place I had been sold to after not even three days and, starting out as a beggar, I had saved up a sum in order to go back home. I did anything, from working at an orchard to taking care of other people’s babies, doing cleaning and washing, running errands and being an apprentice at a restaurant’s kitchen. Anything, as long as I could earn money.

I had been sold off to a pretty far-away place, so it took me a year to come back. I was making merry when returned home. About things being back to how they were before. About how my life had twisted a bit but it was back to how it used to be. My mother would surely be happy. She’d tell me I did a good job coming back home.

So, that was why... I even now vividly remembered the feeling of astonishment I had when I opened the door and the house was deserted.

“Dad, Mom, Big Bro,” I had whispered intermittently into the empty house.

There was no reply.

——Aah, so homes that people no longer live in also die, I thought.

I was the child from that day even now, standing stock-still.

   “The hijacking case of the transcontinental train... The one on this picture looks like that girl, but she isn’t, right?”

While reading the newspaper that the customers had left behind as usual, I was relaxing at the dock.

The seasons had passed once again and autumn was about to end. Although the years were growing farther from the spring in which I had first met Violet, yet not a single thing had changed.

“Excuse me, are you doing boat rides?”

“Ah, yes. Thank you very much for your patronage today. I am the safest operator around here. Boater Valentine.”

Today, too, I was rowing a boat. That was all.

I would just wake up in the morning, eat, get the boat out, let the customers onto it, do my job, go back home and sleep. A repetition of that. Without anything special happening, without any wonderful encounters or opportunities, I was merely earning enough to eat and protecting my home. Sometimes, I would find myself thinking that I was the only one living this kind of daily life. I had been working since I was little, so I didn’t know how to play very well, and I had no one who was close to me other than Violet.

Even though Violet wasn’t my friend.

“Mr. Boater. Is there anywhere around here where I can have a meal?”

“There is, once you get on land. It might be unlike anything that someone from the big city such as yourself would eat, though... Now, then, be careful.”

Right. Just as she had once said, our relationship was of a boater and her customer, and we would not meet unless she came here for ghostwriting. She was an amazing person who roamed all around the globe and lived in a world completely different from mine.

While returning to the former shore after sending off the customer, I was thinking to myself. Was my life okay like this? I was here today yet again, without attempting to go to where the person that I wanted to be close to was. Even if I used the entirety of the notebook that Violet had given me, I could not report this to her. Because I couldn’t leave my hometown.

   “Mr. Valentine. Hello; it has been a while.”

It was a very beautiful morning that day. Illuminated by the Sun as it emerged from the clouds, drops of the rain that had fallen on the previous night were emitting a transparent shine. The person who had appeared in that stunning world was still a foreign body.

Fall just before winter approached. Violet Evergarden was not wearing her usual doll outfit, instead dressed in black. Black hat, black cape over a black dress, and while the suitcase, umbrella and emerald brooch were the same as ever, everything was pitch-black other than them. She was a black-clad Auto-Memories Doll.

As the wind blew, her clothes seemed to flutter in an unnatural manner on her left arm. The arm was gone. Only one of her arms was missing. She had told me somewhere along the way that they were prosthetics, but when seeing her figure without one of them like this, I felt the loss of it even though it was unrelated to me.

“He-llo... Uh, what’s up with... hum, your arm, your clothes and all that?”

It was almost like that kind of thing.

“You came just a while ago, right? The intervals are really close...”

Almost like someone’s funeral. I had never been to one, but I had observed it from the outside before.

Apparently, my questions had her at loss for a bit. After showing a thinkative countenance as from where to start explaining, Violet put her baggage on the ground and pointed at her left arm with her right hand.

“My arm broke. It is being repaired.”

Her artificial doll-like gestures that I had grown fond of before I realized and her clear voice were now turning into the main causes that made my heart restless.

“I can use the right one without any issues. It is inconvenient, but this will be solved eventually.”

I asked the reason behind it and if she had been involved in some sort of accident. Violet did not tell me the details of her situation. She gave a rare, faint smile, looking troubled.

“In the meantime we had not seen each other, truly, many things happened... However, today is not about me but about someone else. I was told he was famous around here, but have you not heard? He has passed away.”

There was only one person whose funeral Violet would be coming to this land for, dressed in mourning clothes. Her ghostwriting patron, Mr. Lockhart. That old man who people said was going to die, yet had always stayed alive.

“I... I don’t have much interaction with the townspeople... We’ve had heavy rain the past few days... and when I pushed myself to get the boat out, I caught a cold... so I shut myself at home... and didn’t see any of my boatmen friends...”

I came up with reasons one after another as if to give an excuse. Even though I hadn’t done anything bad.

“It seems the funeral is already over. The people from that household contacted me, so I came in a hurry.”

“To visit his... grave?”

“That as well, but I also ghostwrote his will on his own request... and it seems there was a dispute among his relatives when the will was opened. They said they want me to confirm if there was really no mistake in the contents...”

I wondered what in the will had aroused the general criticism. Violet did not tell me, as she could not reveal the contents of her contractor’s letters, but when it came to problems that happened after a wealthy elder died, it had to be the inheritance.

“It simply means that the will is just like Mr. Lockhart. This is all I can say.”

So the mean geezer was mean until the end and then left.

“S-So, Ms. Violet, you’re about to get yourself involved in that big quarrel?”

“Yes.”

“Could it be it’s your last ride on this boat...?”

“Mr. Valentine, if you are still here by then, I shall go back with you as well.”

“I-I’ll be. I won’t take any other customers today and I’ll be waiting for you on the other side of the river!”

“I think I will take very long.”

“That’s okay... I mean—!”

——I won’t get to see you anymore, right?

There was a knot in my throat because of the sadness, so I could not say these words. But I believed they had reached Violet. She said “all right” after a pause.

And so, I sent Violet to the household’s side of the shore. As I had declared, I did not take on other customers, only waited for Violet.

She did say that a lot had happened to her, but if the essence of what she had experienced, which she could only express with that much, was enough for her to lose an arm, then surely there should still be a commotion around her right now. Poor Violet. Honestly, Mr. Lockhart was a client who gave Violet trouble from start to finish.

Still, if it weren’t for that troublesome client, Violet and I wouldn’t have met. We also wouldn’t have had that accumulation of interaction time as the seasons passed.

“You should’ve lived longer,” I whispered selfishly. My pathetic voice was mixed with whining.

I was a horrible person.

To think I would complain about the time that someone I didn’t even know so well should die. But now, my heart felt like it would break. My composure was gone. That was why my tongue was so nasty.

I did predict that we would become unable to see each other one day like this. I did, yet I had thought it would be a gentler end. More different, more...

Yes, one day. One day, just as I had suddenly become unable to see my parents and brother, Violet would stop coming here. But I couldn’t leave this place, so I would keep standing at the dock, thinking that there might be a day where she would come by.

From the viewpoint of other people, they may think this was sad, but to me, it was an ending that still had salvation and hope to it...

I hadn’t imagined that she herself would tell me this was probably the last time. Besides, to think that my chest would feel so tight just because I was no longer going to see a customer that I only saw every now and then.

I was an idiot.

Yes, I wasn’t good in the head. I was sensitive to the subtleties of other people’s emotions despite not bringing them to life in me. Yet I was insensitive when it came to myself, so I was only able to notice things when they started hurting like this.

“I-I...”

Surely, I was all on my own because I was this much of a fool.

“I’m gonna be alone...” the words overflowed from be in a natural manner.

——Be quiet. Don’t cry. It’s like the way you’d cry as a kid.

“Ugh... fu-uh...”

I was happy. That Violet had hired me and would come to ride on my boat.

“I don’t want that... Again... I’ll be...”

I was waiting here. For someone to remember me and come see me. For them to look for me. I was living by expecting nothing but that.

Same for Violet. She was someone from my generation, who had been tossed into the world all of a sudden. She wanted to search for her important person, for him to find her – she was that kind of girl. But she was doing her best to live. She really did her best, without losing to the unreasonableness of life.

As she grew, I saw her shining as an Auto-Memories Doll almost as if it were happening to a different version of myself. The fact she was doing her best was an encouragement. I thought of her as a comrade. Even though we weren’t friends, it felt like we were.

“Big Bro... when are you coming back...”

I was by myself here. So, before I noticed, my encounter with that girl had become salvation in my life. Because we were the same. Because we were both waiting for people who wouldn’t return.

It was okay even if it were just a few times per year. She had remembered and looked for me. To me, just that fact was, aah, so very...

   “I am terribly sorry for being so late.”

I had departed with the boat in the morning, and it was past evening when the black-clad Auto-Memories Doll came back. She did not seem tired, but her voice was on the husky side, so she probably had to talk a lot.

“Good job... How did it go?”

I wanted to make it so that she wouldn’t find out that I had been crying, yet my voice was nasal and clearly an after-cry one. Amidst the sunset, Violet looked straight at me.

“Everything is well. Mr. Valentine, are you all right?”

I did not know, so I fell silent.

——I’ll let you on the boat now. And then, it’ll be the end. You won’t come see me anymore. I don’t know if that’s okay, or if I’m okay with it.

“Give me your hand; come on carefully. This is the time when the sunset and the evening are mixed, after all.”

As if to gloss over it, I conducted myself as merely a professional. Violet’s sense of balance was a bit off, perhaps because she only had her right arm. I helped her until she was seated, and then started rowing.

“It is my first time seeing the landscape at this hour.”

I nodded at Violet’s muttering.

Evening at the Jacaranda River was a sight that looked like a scarlet Sun had jumped onto the water surface. Both the sky and the river would paint themselves red, dyed in darkness before one could take notice. The birds cried as if to announce that it was already time to go home, the boatmen pulling out of work and returning to their houses. It was that kind of hour, that kind of scene.

As winter was about to come around, the trees were bare and most of the fallen leaves over the water had even their colors rusting away as well. There was nothing more fitting of a farewell day than such loneliness.

“Mr. Valentine, thank you very much for being here for me until today.”

Violet’s voice sounded softer than usual. Come to think of it, I felt that the air around her had somewhat changed. I had thought it was because of the mourning attire, but looking at her again like this now, I figured that was not it. Would it be an exaggeration to say that it was as if an evil spirit had been removed from her? She was different from before.

“From the start, for now, for always... thank you very much.”

Yes, back then, when we first met, Violet Evergarden was a beautiful wild beast that had been tossed into the world. She was nervous, wary of everything, unstable and acted kind of cold.

“It might be strange of me to be saying this to someone I only ever see here. But to me, Mr. Valentine, the fact that you let me ride on your boat whenever I come by...”

Yet, within a long time, she had gained warmth and transformed from a beast-like girl into an exquisite young woman.

“I... surely, yes, was ‘happy’ about it. I can now finally say so. Even if it is something trivial for you. I... can only meet you here, so when you said that I could talk to you, I was ‘happy’.”

——It’s over.

The scenery was too solitary. My chest tightened at the words she spoke within it.

“I was definitely not suited to be an Auto-Memories Doll. I did not have the gentleness to speak my mind without thinking as you do. However, you affirmed that someone like me had her good points.”

——It’s really over.

“In a world full of denial, it is difficult to affirm anything.”

——This is the end.

“That is what I think. There is much denial in this world. Affirming is difficult. But you did it for me.”

——Please, don’t say any more of these goodbye-like words.

“Thank you very much.”

——Don’t.

“I have one more thing I want to tell you.”

——I don’t want to hear them anymore.

“Mr. Valentine, I found the person I was looking for.”

——Stop.

“I found him. I discovered that there are many people in the world who are looking for someone they can no longer see.”

——My time with you is going on as you speak.

“I was told by many that it was foolish of me to wait for him.”

——My time with you is melting away.

“However, I followed my heart, which I did not even know I had.”

——It’s melting away like the foam on the surface of the water.

“Mr. Valentine, I support you always waiting here for someone from here onwards as well. Even if, by any chance, you decide to stop waiting and venture out of here, I will support this too.”

——I liked this purity of yours, as if you’re reflecting the other person.

“I assert your kindness. Because you asserted mine.”

——By sustaining you, I was able to sustain myself.

I let out a scream. Yes, I was bawling. For me to be crying while rowing, I was disqualified as a boater. But Violet did not judge me.

After wiping my tears with the sleeves of my clothes several times, I began rowing again. I had only ever done anything while crying when I was a child.

“Dad, Mom, Big Bro.”

The time when I went searching, calling each of them, in my hometown by the Jacaranda River felt like it had been just a few days ago.

“Violet, don’t forget me,” I said as I cried, looking like an idiot.

“Yes. Mr. Valentine, you said this would be the last time, but I will pay a visit if I receive any jobs to do nearby.”

“That’s a lie...! Countless of my customers have said that... but nobody... nobody... nobody cares about...”

“I support you. This is no lie.”

“It is... It’s just flattery... I-I was... happy that you never forgot about me... but you soon will...”

The boat arrived at the dock almost as if colliding with it. The impact caused the tears to fall from my eyes like rain.

“Sorry; just go.”

I crouched on top of the boat. Aah, I had to help Violet get down. Night was coming. I should not be stalling in a place like this.

I was just a boater and this girl was just my customer. We would end here. It was over.

“I learned that having someone to accept you is important.”

I had to wipe my tears and see her off.

“Even if you cannot see them all the time. Mr. Valentine, if I was a bother to you, please know this.”

I felt the sensation of the only arm that Violet now had touching my back. I turned away from it.

We had met each other in this severe world. A world that I hated. I also hated my life.

But, aah, my God. Even when such cruel sorrow attacked me like that...

“There is an Auto-Memories Doll somewhere in the world who accepts you. Please be aware of this.”

——...the world is beautiful.

As she added a “that is not a lie”, I felt like I would end up waiting for her who knows how many years with just that sentence, so I found myself smiling. My foolishness and Violet’s kindness – those two things made me both cry and laugh.

At the end, we joined hands like little kids. I helped her out of the boat and did not let go after that.

   “So it’s not a lie? You won’t forget me?”

“It is not. I will not. I have good memory.”

“Some-Someday...”

“Yes.”

“If I become someone capable of going to see you someday, will you accept me? Wouldn’t I be a bother? I... Y-Y’know, I... actually wanted to be friends with you. Not just a boater and her customer...”

“Yes, I will.”

“But I can’t right away. I have a family... I don’t, but I do.”

“Yes.”

“But, one day... one day...”

“Yes, one day.”

“Surely, on a really nice day for us to reunite...”

“Yes, it will definitely be a good day.”

“Let’s meet again one day, Violet Evergarden.”

   After that, just as Violet had somehow changed, so did I. Just as snow covered the autumn lands, the silver make-up melted down before anyone realized and young leaves sprouted from it, I also changed.

It was during spring that this was decisive. As expected, for one to start something, it had to be in spring.

Purple flower petals scattered down on the Jacaranda River. I was simply looking at the scenery in a daze. The harbor was crowded with customers. Even though I was a boater and there were several customers wanting a ride, I was using the boat only for myself, not letting anyone hop in. Without paying any attention to my fellow boatmen, who stared at me with strange looks, I merely observed the entirety of this landscape, so as to sear it into my eyes.

My beautiful hometown. A hometown of which I only had memories sad enough to pierce through my chest. A hometown where no one would look for me anymore. A hometown that surely none of them would ever come back to.

The fact that Violet would not come this year gave me a sensation akin to waking up from a dream. As if my hazy head was clearing up, such change came to me.

——Let’s throw it away.

It was then that I thought at last.

——I’ll throw my family away.

That was what I thought.

The reason why I was clinging to this place was that my family might come back someday. I had to return, I had to stay here, or else I was sure they would be troubled if any of them came home. Because it had troubled me. It had made me cry. So I should be here, I thought.

Even though they didn’t give me love, I loved my family.

——But I’ll throw it away.

I was finally able to think like that. As I did so, tears poured down.

I had taken a long time to arrive to this decision, which was a merciless one, and I was a horrible person who surely wouldn’t die a peaceful death and would, as expected, keep on living like this, without being loved by anybody.

But I was going to do it. I was going to throw my family away.

After all, even if the people who were supposed to love me did not, she existed in my world. Somewhere in this world, there was an Auto-Memories Doll who accepted me. So instead of waiting for someone who would never come home, I should take a leap. Because I wasn’t an eight-year-old kid anymore and could go anywhere.

I rowed my boat. Not for anyone else. For the sake of going out into my new journey.

What should I do? When I thought about what to do first, as expected, that girl surfaced in the depths of my mind. The girl I had seen off while praying, “Wait for me”.

The dark red ribbons tying her golden hair. The pleats on her white ribbon-tie dress. The light blue umbrella. As if playing around, all of these things fluttered in the wind.

It was okay for me to go looking for them from now. It was okay.

——Wait for me.

My chest was quivering. Starting life anew was common place, but now that it was my turn, I was shaking. It was hard to breathe from the fear and expectations. Flowers from jacaranda trees were blocking my field of vision, and although their beauty erased everything that could be seen, they were nothing but a hindrance now. What I yearned for wasn’t them.

What I wished to see – the purple I wanted to meet once again – was no longer this one.

——Please, wait for me.

Tears welled up. I didn’t know whether they were tears of sadness, relief or frustration. I didn’t know anything anymore. The feeling I had wasted so much of my life and the feeling that I had finally gotten to this point were in conflict.

I didn’t want to abandon my family. I didn’t.

But the truth is that I’d always wanted to. Aah, I was such an idiot, such a confusing one.

That was fine. I didn’t understand myself very well either. I didn’t. I didn’t understand anything anymore. What was I doing? I didn’t know. Surely, I had never known. I didn’t even know that I was hurting.

But there was just one thing.

——Wait.

One thing I knew. When it came to things I knew, there was but one.

That I felt so refreshed I shouted to the world without minding anyone, “Violet, wait for me!”

I was going to see her, so I wished she wouldn’t forget me. That was it.

That was all.

   Blue eyes opened.

The train had arrived in the city. While the passengers got off in a hurry, a blue-eyed girl was neatly smoothing down the wrinkles on her ribbon-tie dress before gracefully descending to the platform.

She did not act as if looking for someone or show any signs of losing her way. Her figure as she simply walked straight to her destination was almost like that of a mechanical doll. Surely, she would not do things such as be surprised by something or run towards someone upon finding them. That was how she looked.

The perfectly lady-like girl, however, went completely still in the middle of the crowded platform all of a sudden. Her blue eyes had detected something. Upon finding that person, she blinked as if surprised, and then bolted into a run. The hem of her skirt spread out in disarray. The ribbons keeping her golden hair in place swayed.

As she had started running, the other person also pushed through the crowd and came closer. Three, five, ten steps. She, who had broken into a dash, halted exactly in front of him, yet the other did not.

“Violet, welcome home.”

He held her in his arms and buried his face into her shoulder. Her beloved one, whom she had not seen in a while, tickled her with his nose as he sniffed the scent of her hair. He must have been at the platform for a long time. His cold clothes and his body heat conveyed his desire to see her.

“Major, I am back. I did not know you would come pick me up.”

Having changed from a beast into a person, from a person into a girl and then into someone’s biggest love, Violet accepted the embrace of the other person without resistance.

“I am happy.”

Something gradually rushed through her body. It was the sensation that “joy”, “love” and other such feelings had turned into light and were running from the tips of her toenails to the top of her head.

The young woman who used not to know emotions was now in love.

One could spot other charming lovers here and there. Therefore, even as the Army Colonel of this country, Leidenschaftlich, and an Auto-Memories Doll were hugging each other, no one paid them any mind. The intimate figures of both those two and the other lovers were a common sight. If one were to unravel their history, this was a strange pair born through twists and turns, but in everyday life, it was just a part of the scenery.

“Violet. Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Did you say anything?”

Due to Gilbert hugging her tightly, Violet’s remark was processed simply as an incomprehensible something, but she did not care.

“No, it was nothing much. I have returned, Major.”

“Sorry. Yeah, welcome back, Violet... Did I tell you I wanted to see you?”

“Yes, just now.”

“I heard from Hodgins about when you were scheduled to come back... Tired, are you? I have a carriage waiting so that we can hurry home.”

“Major, what about work...?”

“I came after finishing it. I had to force myself but I have no plans more important than you.”

“Then, can we be together for a little bit as the carriage rides?”

“If you’re okay with it, I can send you to the Evergarden house after we have a meal.”

Gilbert took Violet’s eyes going round as a sign of acceptance. He took Violet’s bag in her stead and, in a natural manner, found himself grasping the hand that had become empty. As he held her hand, Violet moved her gaze fleetingly. She started blinking again upon looking at the two joined hands.

“Major, Major.”

Subsequent to their reunion during the hijacking case of the transcontinental train, the two had confirmed their feelings after the CH Postal Company attack incident and started a new, albeit awkward, relationship.

“What is it?”

“I almost look like a child.”

She indeed was like a child in love.

“Because we’re holding hands?”

“Yes; I would never get lost here, in Leidenschaftlich. You did use to hold my hand before, but... now...”

It was a bit lacking for an army colonel who was past his thirties, but if one were to say that it was fitting of modest people such as these two, it indeed was.

“I’d like you to keep in mind that lovers also hold hands, Violet.”

“Is that so...? Indeed, looking around, there are many people doing this.”

“You had told me you understood... so I perceived us as lovers; was I wrong?”

“N-Not at all.”

“Then, in order to strengthen that perception... let’s change the way we’re holding hands.”

Just by the hold changing into one in which their fingers intertwined, Violet went from just a girl being taken away to a lady being escorted. Violet blinked again. Ever since their romance had come to fruition, each of Violet’s reactions entertained Gilbert, to which he let show a smile that he could not hold back.

“I’ll be happy if, one day, you take my hand without saying anything when I hold out my arm.”

“I need training, Major.”

“Kukuh... That so? Then let’s do it, Violet.”

As the novice couple left the platform, yet another train arrived.

While Violet and Gilbert walked amidst the crowd, a different pair passed right by their side. The young woman was quite a lustrous, beautiful person, whom one could tell was of noble birth. The individual walking with a hand rested on her shoulder as if to protect her from the crowd was an androgynous beauty with unusual silver hair.

Cut short, his platinum-blond hair bore the kind of exquisiteness that looked like it would make chiming sounds as he walked. His jacket, shirt and pants were finely tailored ones. He no longer resembled at all the navigator who used to row a boat in the past.

Feeling as if an old acquaintance had passed by, Valentine halted for a moment.

“What is the matter, Rose?”

Upon being called, Valentine immediately resumed walking with a “nothing”. It was not permissible to stop in the general area of a packed entrance.

“Madam... I had this feeling that the girl I am looking for was here.”

Looking for someone all by themselves. Those two had this point in common.

“Violet Evergarden? That’s right; you will be living as an Auto-Memories Doll in the same city as her. It would not be strange if she did pass by. You will meet that girl someday. And one day – one day, you might also get to see the older brother that you told me about. After all, miracles happen every day.”

However, they had still not realized that the gears of their fates were not yet aligned.

Rose Valentine gave a smile with a “yes, Madam”. “To me, Madam, you are the miracle.”

“Why, my rose does not say such things.”

Rose’s flank was hit rather strongly, but although it actually hurt, the smile did not falter. This was also one of his secrets to success.

“Speaking of which, the Auto-Memories Doll school was truly difficult. I am grateful to Madam for sending me to it, though...”

“Oh, but you have come back as a gentleman who has become able to escort me naturally like this, so it has brought results.”

Rose’s amber eyes widened beneath silver lashes. They reflected his madam’s mischievous facial expression. Rose’s smile collapsed a little and turned into a strained laugh.

“Madam, I managed to deceive people in the past because I used to wear a hat to hide my face, but... can I really do this? Also, does this not mean that I will have to deceive all the other employees and customers?”

There was something he had not told Violet Evergarden. Violet Evergarden was a mysterious girl to him as well, but there was not that great a difference between her and himself.

“I left my hometown in order to start my own life for real, and yet...”

He – no, she was going to begin a new life in this city starting from today. Not just as “Valentine” but as “Rose Valentine”.

The madam of the S.W. (Scarlet Winter) Letter-Specialized Shop, which would later make a name for itself as a unique postal company that mostly employed male Auto-Memories Dolls, replied with an alluring smile.

If there were goodbyes, there had to be encounters. And if there were ends, there had to be beginnings.

“We will not deceive them. You will properly sell yourself as Rose Valentine, the crossdressing beauty, from the very start. We sell a hundred different types of letters, stationery, envelopes. And also the caring customer service from charming young men who have some sort of sparkle to them. There is no mistaking that this will be as addicting as high-grade drinks. It’s exactly because this business is full of women that a shop full of men will shine. Is this discrimination? Are you discriminating against me, Rose?!”

Good endings and bad endings – life went on with both included.

“Haah... But I’m a woman. No, I might be almost a man since I’ve lived most of my life tricking people about my gender...”

“That’s what’s good about it!”

“Haah...”

It looked like an eternity but was not, yet on it went.

“Your boyish side and your original girl side. I recruited you taking them into account. Be at ease. You can sell. You can. After all, there is no other such Auto-Memories Doll.”

“Haah...”

“Don’t ‘haah’ me. Geez... my lovely rose. Worry not. Have I ever lied to you?”

The story would go on. Cruel as the world might be, beautiful moments would come by again.

“It has still not been that long since I first met you... so, I would not know, Madam.”

Morning would come as long as you were there. Such was how stories were made.

[imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper]

Some fic ideas I have that I will probably write at some point that I just would like to talk about:

Su'p I'm on a computer so unfortunately the "e" s in Jose's name will be without accents. I will remove this note later if I fix it.

The Three Caballeros:

The trilogy: College, Bahia and Reverie.

Follows the cabs in college with focus on Ze and Panchito and then what adventures those two go on after that, loosely canon compliant with DTs 2017, romantic Jose x Panchito with a lot of headcanons.

***Just a disclaimer with this next one that SweetPancake03 on AO3 is writing a fic with what I think might be a similar premise also based on the whole thing with the Jose animatronic "Dying." I haven't checked it out yet but the first chapter can be found below, give it a read! https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382928/chapters/69543276 ***

Timewarp Jose crackfic AU:

While down down in Acapulco on spring break, preforming on the edge of a cliff of all places, Jose stumbles off the edge into the unforgiving sea. Though they never find a body officials say there is no way he could have survived the fall. He is proclaimed dead, but what actually happens is a bit weirder. Enough said with the title its crack treated seriously but there's like minimal historical accuracy cause I'm hella lazy lol.

Sanders Sides

The Mysterious Disappearance of Roman Grimm

I've talked about this before in its own post (the tag is just the title on my blog if you wanna know a few more details) but its a lighthearted mystery AU set in rural NC. Just some fun with a focus on romantic dukeceit.

Good Omens

Gabe's Shoulder's

Human/office Au with Gabe and Beez! Crowley and Aziraphale are his shoulder angels. Gabriel is miserable office worker just trying to get by. He's also a terrible grump and is completely alone save for the ineffable idiots on his shoulders. There's a scoreboard over his head counting each and every time he earns a point towards heaven or hell and well Aziraphale and Crowley (who, bless him, can't really bring himself to do his job) are getting a bit worried at how far ahead the "Hell" side seems to be. When Gabriel makes a connection with Beez from the rival company right downstairs, Crowley and Aziraphale see it as an opportunity to finally whip him into shape.

Drawga

Unnamed fake dating Au

When a post on Ryjinah's instagram finally blows up because it makes people think her and Legzi are dating she cooks up a scheme that will bring out a lot of long buried feelings in both of them. Chaos insues. Ra'oxah, meanwhile, goes on a quest with Demon Johnny to find a legendary way to restore his body.

[myelocin]

the concept of the end | miya atsumu

synopsis: in which miya atsumu has a hard time accepting of how and why the world allows for endings to exist as much as beginnings.

characters: miya atsumu, you, + crumbs of inarizaki i think lol

genre: angst, slice of life

wc: 1600+

-

in reality, all there really is are two things: the beginning and the end. 

for one, starting and finishing the more mundane chores in life. much like his routine during a saturday, he thinks. he hates the non stop practice held on the weekends, but at the same time would be too restless at home if he were to miss a day. 

“it’ll be over soon,” wasn’t much a comfort because that was just a fact. things that have a beginning will always have some sort of an end--eventually. what atsumu did do though, was try to show up at the very last minute, savoring as much as he could from his remaining time free before showing up to practice with a huff and not much of a game plan. 

“the sooner we start, the sooner we’ll end,” kita used to say, and atsumu would be quick to wave him off without much of an argument.

in a way, he was right, but it didn’t change the fact that the eight hours to conquer afterwards wouldn’t be brutal on the body.  

the mundane parts of life worked like a schedule. there was an expectation that was always met at before or at the end of the twenty four hours offered in a day. 

 so when he’d pick up the ball, first he’d inwardly huff at the dreaded hour by hour schedule of the day where he knew would pass by him slowly, then he’d will his body to move through the motions.

hour by hour. step by step.

jump. toss. spike. land. repeat.

end.

for him, the mundane always had a sense of eternity. he didn’t know whether to like it or not.

so atsumu decides he doesn’t.

and when he meets you, for the first time he’s nervous because he knows from the moment you exchanged hellos—that was your beginning. 

this time, time didn’t move at a snail’s pace. this time, time felt like it was leaping from one year to the next in just a snap. his undercut growing and roots of the dyed blonde showing felt like it happened overnight. and even if he liked it—he didn’t know if he wanted to stay in  it.

atsumu knew he wanted to stay with you, but the end being as inevitable in nature as it is, always lingered in the back of his mind.

to the point where as the time with you passed, the more atsumu chose to grasp at the frayed edges of the present so when the future came, he could stay in some semblance of the past. 

because for atsumu, the end meant coming back home after a month long vacation from paradise. the end, meant osamu, who he spent more than half his life building his life plans with choosing to branch off of volleyball. it meant receiving a diploma at graduation and only seeing the group of people he’d loved break off of his line of connection and only appear as a text during the holidays. 

and even if people, for as long as the concept of time was created, tried their hardest to prolong the inevitable end of some things—they were only half met goals in the end.

“i’ll see you soon!,” “text you often!” “we’ll meet up tomorrow, right?” were plans.

plans that may have seen the light one or two times but end with an ellipsis anyway.

the end, meant eventually closing a chapter with you  too.

and it was terrifying, atsumu thought. because it wasn’t like before; it wasn’t like the days where he knew how the schedule of the day played through hour by hour until the end. 

the end, with you has always just been a mystery. at every argument that continued in a sort of loop instead of landing somewhere solid, at every time either of you walked out during heated confrontations, and every time he thought that you wanted to give up. 

and perhaps that’s why he chose to make the decision for you. 

“we should just break up,” he hears himself say, but the voice inside him rebels.

"no,” atsumu thinks. “please say no.”

but instead, you nod your head and drop your shoulders. 

“are you relieved?” he thinks, the look of apathy settling on his face as his heart clenches at your reaction. “please say something else.”

“is this what you want?” you ask him, voice ringing in the silence. 

“yes,” atsumu replies.

“no,” the voice in his head retaliates.

“then i’ll respect that,” you tell him before the silence envelops the room again. 

-

“if there’s a beginning, there’s an end,” atsumu read out loud once from a quote posted with an ad.

and for him, letting you go was a means of evading the inevitable end. you were someone atsumu didn’t want to watch in desperation as the end chased the beginning he started with you.

time, or at least how it was with you, wasn’t something he measured by the hours of the day or the seconds in a minute. with you, time did everything but pass him slowly. and because he didn’t want you to end, atsumu chose to live in the mundane again.

the mundane where time passed him by the hourly schedule. where starting the day at eight and looking at the five pm end felt more eternal than tangible.

but at least, atsumu thought, even though you were apart—in a way, time for the both of you stretched.

in this case, the end of you was when you sat across him one day, a wedding invitation in between the two of you.

“why would ya’ want your ex at your own wedding?” he asks, and atsumu focuses on the rim of your coffee mug instead of the looped calligraphy on the white piece of paper.

he hears you laugh, and atsumu feels the muscles in his neck twitch. “look at her,” the voice in his head insists, but he clenches his jaw and tightens his fingers against the underside of the table instead.

“so we can have an ending,” you reply, voice almost like a resigned sigh and atsumu regrets his decision to look at you as soon as his neck snaps up.

you look refreshed. the look in your eyes telling him that you were far from his grasp. timeless, atsumu thinks. you’ve always looked timeless. always the one to personify the start for him.

the start being the beginning of everything that taught atsumu the roots of patience and love. the start to questioning the concept of the end and where he is in the spectrum of accepting to let things simply be.

“i thought our ending was the one from four years ago,” atsumu says slowly, just testing the waters and waiting for whether a shift in your calm will come or not.

it doesn’t. instead, you offer him a smile. one where he knows that if he tries to return would only look strained at best.

“did we really?” you ask him and atsumu can only open his mouth as silence renders him speechless.

so even as he sits across you, heart yearning and stomach clenching as the inevitable breathes its presence against his neck, atsumu realizes he’s never felt more far away.

he’s really always just yearned for you as time for him became a loop while for you, it became a witness to your journey.

then you look at him, you back in the present as you push the invitation with the calligraphy that doesn’t loop the letters of his name towards him again.

“i’ll understand if you won’t go, but i just had to put it out there that you’re still welcome to be in my life, atsumu. i don’t think i’ve ever let the chapter of you end.”

atsumu blinks at your words, wishing for his brain to start turning so you wouldn’t sit across him looking lost. sadness, he thinks, has never been a good look on you. so he wishes for his tongue and vocal chords to chime in a joke. anything—just so the haze that told him of your insecurities would clear.

atsumu only wishes to see your eyes.

and like heaven’s grace deciding to drop him crumbs of salvation, it does. you smile at him like you would an old friend and atsumu’s slapped with the reality that now that’s all he really is—an old friend.

time, to him, as he remained and chose to love you again from the mundane felt like it moved hour by hour instead of the four years that he just now realizes that you soared through.

the ring on your finger catches the light from the window. it’s bright.

he raises his head and meets your eyes which seem to glow in the dim lighting of the corner. it’s blinding.

“so see you later?” you say, smiling as you stand up and clap him once on the shoulder before moving past—and away—from him.

the chimes by the door tell him you’ve made it outside. he holds his breath. when he thinks of you, he’s still blinded.

see you later, atsumu resonates. and it felt like the see you later the stranger’s kid from the park used to tell him back when he was young. the one he never met again.

“yeah, see you around,” atsumu replies, to the traces of you, and to no one in particular.

he knows that this time, as he watches you walk away, a reunion isn’t promised. atsumu’s always believed that the universe has ways of letting stories end, so instead of waiting for the ellipses fade into an abandoned closure, like before, he chooses to write the ending himself.

this time, he listens to the universe and lets the inevitable finally catch up.

and as he sighs, watching you turn the corner and disappear, he allows for the end to arrive.

see you later, he thinks. in another lifetime, maybe.

-

[whentheynameyoujoy]

Women in SPN—Seasons 2 and 3

Previously on Joy Obsesses over a Show That Creatively Expired in 2010

Tessa

Introduced back when the Winchesters dodging the coffin actually qualified as an episode, she follows in Meg’s tracks by continuing to make monsters seem more approachable and less a malevolent force of nature. Starts off with a completely flat affect but gets annoyed with the Winchester bullshit real quick—a sure-fire sign of an SPN character with a brain. A powerful being capable of returning one’s memories by a smooch which is… convenient. As is the fact that bad guys keep using her for their ebul plans. Serves the typical secondary-character function of a springboard for a main guy’s development. Plants hints of the “natural order”, “destiny”, and “inevitability” which will become major themes down the road and be explored by characters with deeper writing.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor, remembered primarily because she keeps popping up.

On her own: A nice addition to the lore.

Jo Harvelle

Originally Dean’s love interest until she got written out for the crime of having tits around the fandom’s husband. Driven by a wish to honor her dead father and become a hunter, she’s held back by the unfortunate fact of not being all that good at it. Cheerful, temperamental, and a pretty skilled hustler, she’s mortally wounded when charging in to protect Dean. Ends up sacrificing herself so that others can escape and attempt to end the Apocalypse.

Status: Dead as of s5, dragged back and disappeared again in s7

Importance: Major

On her own: A soldier going out in a blaze of glory. I bawl every time.

Ellen Harvelle

Unlike her daughter, very good at what she does. No-nonsense authority figure, she’s one of the few in the show to pull off a combination of a hand-wringing mama bear and a pro-active badass with a life outside her family. Not perceived as a threat because fans don’t know the meaning of MILF yet, and so is allowed to stick around for the season 2 finale. Dies to make Jo’s plan to obliterate Meg’s hellhounds work, though it’s strongly implied she mostly refuses to survive her kid.

Status: Dead

Importance: Major

On her own: SPN’s Molly Weasley, sullied by the implications of her death

Lenore

A head-strong leader of a nest of vegetarian vampires, she’s deliberately contrasted with Gordon’s Terminator schtick and to a lesser degree with Dean’s black-and-white monsters vs. humans kill-everything grief-cope in order to further cement SPN’s ongoing crusade of challenging who in fact is the monster around here. Has a crowning moment of awesome when she refuses to feed while covered in Sam’s blood. The entire point of her is her determination not to give up her humanity even when no longer human. Would be shame if the show decided to later abandon this essential part of her character and twist it for cheap drama…

Status: Alive as of s5, annihilated in every way in s6

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and the boys’ development

On her own: An effective mirror to Dean’s stroll down the slippery slope

Diana Ballard

TheGoodCop manipulated by her professional and romantic partner, she has a surprisingly functional tension with Sam. Luckily for Linda Blair it goes unnoticed because the fandom doesn’t view older women as competition. Noteworthy mostly because she actively participates in uncovering the episode’s mystery which automatically elevates her above the standard clueless civilian, man or woman, who needs the duo to save them. Despite fewer appearances arguably more memorable than Henriksen, precisely because of her active involvement.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor overall, a major player in the episode

On her own: Interesting take on the usual boilerplate cop

Ava Wilson

To present a very, very generous interpretation, she foreshadows Sam’s eventual turn to the dark side. Spirited, a little bit airheaded, and freaked about her Azazel-given powers, she gives enough of a damn to prevent her visions of people dying from coming true, though she clings to her intention to lead a normal civilian life. Does a complete switcheroo off-screen to become a villain because… power is awesome? Ends up the most advanced special child in season 2’s battle royale, the very concept of which is just… eh? Still gets dispatched no problem because… why not?

Status: Dead

Importance: Minor

On her own: A prime example of why the special children subplot is just…wot?

Molly McNamara

Memorable primarily because of the experimental (for SPN) narration which frames her as the duo’s partner when in fact she’s one of the things being hunted. For plot reasons spends her episode switching between being terrified, worried for her missing husband, and heartbroken. Can be somewhat tortuously argued to fit the theme of (not) overcoming grief and letting go, one of the few detectable threads in the directionless slog that’s season 2.

Status: Dead

Importance: Minor overall, major because she’s arguably the main character of her episode

On her own: Torture porny. Very torture porny.

Madison

Intelligent, educated, and with an endearing love of soaps, she’s responsible for one of the three watchable sex scenes in the entire show. Has a nice theme of personal growth and healing from trauma going on, although it’s cut short and undermined when she’s revealed as a werewolf and euthanized by none other than Sam himself. Her death is filmed as a narrative-changing tragedy before it goes on to become a joke in season 4.

Status: Dead

Importance: Major

On her own: No matter how you look at it, she’s a diseased dog that needs to be put down for her own good while the menz wallow in their manly manpain. A rare example of a storyline I don’t think can be tweaked to be even marginally less awful.

I believe maestro may have wanted to portray sadness here.

Tamara

Told to be an excellent hunter, she’s shown as needing to be saved in order not to end up like her husband who’s literally forced to gargle bleach. Introduces the notion of growing hostility against the Winchesters in the hunting community. Full of wrath to fit the episode’s one-off seven deadly sins schtick, she’s emphasized as emotional and not in control of herself to such a degree that it overshadows how she’s in fact fairly competent in the second half of the episode.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: Wouldn’t stand out this much if she weren’t one of the few POCs in the blinding whiteness that’s SPN’s Americana.

Ruby

Doesn’t have the most organic introduction (A cool intriguing sexy French fries loving not like other gurls sassy badass, with a superdooper special knife? How 2000s cringe can you get?) but quickly becomes one of the show’s most distinctive villains allies. She’s an ally. Totally. Don’t worry about it. A sarcastic smartass jerk who breathes lies and manipulation, she’s resourceful, thinks on her feet, and throws herself into the thick of action without hesitation—a trait that gets especially interesting in retrospect as it suggests a fanatic devotion to her real goal. Sadly, her motivation doesn’t get fleshed out beyond “she really likes Satan, I guess” (which, hey) as the writers prioritize the surprise of the revelation over her further character development. Has the second watchable sex scene in the entire show; the fandom weeps itself to sleep. Gets killed by her own weapon when the writers decide that a character who’s smarter than both protagonists combined could well do with a bit of the good ol’ lobotomizing.

Status: Dead

Importance: Supermegadoublemajor

On her own: The stupid nature of her demise and occasional wooden acting do their best but never overshadow the awesome that’s Ruby.

Lisa Braeden

Dean’s past fling who becomes a living symbol of his desire for the white-picket fence. Is implied to possess mad financial skills as she owns property on a yoga teacher’s salary while a single mom below the age of 30. A blank slate the likes of Cassie, she’s salvaged by better acting. Frequent frowning suggests the presence of an inner life though it doesn’t tend to manifest itself on screen or affect the plot. Her single established trait—blow-out assertiveness the moment things get too far—is exercised mostly in service to her son. Exists solely to give Dean something to pine for.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Major

On her own: A tertiary character who so-so sustains her own episode.

Bela Talbot

The best expansion of the show’s lore after the host of heaven, she’s unequivocally a bad person who nevertheless evokes huge amounts of sympathy. A cynical self-serving dealer in supernatural objects who mirrors Dean’s cracking tough guy persona, due to her abuse and the resulting trauma she refuses to open up and rely on anyone out of principle, or be indebted to them. Her pride makes her clinically unable to ask for help until it’s too late, and even forego mentioning personal history when it’d actively benefit her by softening the horrible impression others have of her. Switching between being an antagonist and the duo’s reluctant ally, she manages to outwit them roughly 90% of time. The fact that she has sexual tension with Dean while Sam lusts after her to the point of literal drooling sends fans apoplectic.

Status: Dead

Importance: Major

On her own: A complex character brought down by her own flaws.

Casey

A demon, she’s torn between wanting to enact the Apocalypse and just chilling with her soulmate. Definitely a fanfic reader because her idea of dealing with danger is to shut herself with her enemy in a room and have a lengthy theological debate. Very outspoken about humanity’s propensity for evil. Outcomplexes Lilith and to a lesser extent Ruby as she’s allowed to openly address her life philosophy. While the dialogue format of her scenes is designed to give Dean space to talk about his feelings regarding his impending demise, it’s more or less an equal push-pull exchange. She’s smart, captivating, capable, and in love, i.e. things SPN just isn’t interested in keeping around.

Status: Dead

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and Dean’s development

On her own: Could have been so good if allowed to stick around

Gertrude Case

A rich elderly creep whose gropy ways are played for laughs because she’s a woman I guess. Either can’t read social cues or doesn’t give a fuck about people’s obvious discomfort. But don’t worry, it’s hilarious. She’s a woman, you see. What harm have those ever done.

Status: I’m going to assume dead by now, otherwise alive as of s5

Importance: A major figure in Sam’s life since she sexually assaulted him. Otherwise minor.

On her own: Sexual harassment is fun, kids

Lucy

Take Molly McNamara, strip her of any pretence at thematic relevance, minimize her importance while playing up her suffering, and then remove her like a broken Christmas decoration while making sassy remarks—voilà, you’ve ended up with the exact simplistic image that pops into one’s head when the words Supernatural and women are mentioned in a sentence.

Status: Dead

Importance: Non-existent

On her own: Just… why

Astaroth

Approaches awesomehood as her demonic business operation is built around preying on bored suburban hausfraus and taking their souls in exchange for magical powers, which they then use to secure benign materialistic keeping-up-with-the-joneses crap and devour one another like a bunch of assholes whose death you can’t help but eagerly anticipate. Srsly, eff those ladies. Stands out as the only (implied) lesbian in the Kripke arc.

Status: Dead

Importance: Minor, not even the real monster of the week when compared to the coven

On her own: There’s probably another discussion about Doylist sexism hidden around somewhere that I’m not really interested in having. Go Astaroth.

Nancy Fitzgerald

Sugar and spice and every other cliché about kindness combined in a pretty sweet package. Plot demands her to be a virgin for some reason, even though this aspect of her character doesn’t amount to anything in the story and only serves to contrast Nancy’s… purity with Ruby who we’re being constantly told is a “slut” and a “whore” and I have no idea how that’s supposed to work. Then again, Nancy’s virginity is framed as a valid personal choice in a rather empowering moment so that’s good. Has standards because even after deciding to let go of her chastity vow, she won’t settle for just any loser who happens to stand around converting oxygen into CO2. Her “cause manpain out of nowhere”-type death is one of the few of this category in the show which actually work because the cruel pointless nature of it is precisely the point (and at least she’s not the only one who doesn’t survive, please ignore how the episode literally says her demise is the most tragic because she never got laid, barfs).

Status: Dead

Importance: Minor

On their own: A textbook definition of a cinnamon

Lilith

An overarching menace that doesn’t spend too much time on screen, she’s a prop rather than her own person. This gets highlighted the moment the show stops casting her as a clichéd creepy child who likes to larp as that Twilight Zone kid, and turns her into the standard hawt chick in a will-they-won’t-they episode. No interiority as she goes along with a plan which requires her obliteration, without at least allowing her to explore her religious motivation. Ruby does all the heavy lifting in this partnership.

Status: Dead

Importance: Major

On her own: For the life of me I can’t make sense of her actions in s4. But the clichéd creepy kid is adorbs so points for memorability.

Maggie Zeddmore

The straight man to the Ghostfacers’ utterly delightful douchefacery. Manages to keep up with Harry and Ed in terms of hilarity because not only is she exactly as out of place as them, she decides to role-play her childhood-friends-to-lovers fanfic in the middle of a haunted house as the best sister that she is.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: Love at first geek

Next, season 4 and 5 before I try to figure out what this all adds up to.

[romioneficfest]

A peculiar discovery

Title: A peculiar discovery.

Prompt/Day: Day 7 – Anything goes

Tumblr name: 

Rating: PG, but PG-13 for rude language.

Brief summary: A confrontation between McGonagall and Ronald Weasley over a certain petrified girl.

Any possible triggering/warning tags: Rude language and my dreadful English. I apologize to the heirs of Shakespeare, but, I was really dying to publish something on Romioneficfest.

 “This is absurd, Mr. Weasley!”  said McGonagall. There was a touch of weariness in his complaint and a perfect point of exasperation and disbelief when he rolled her eyes and raised her hands to heaven like asking to Most High for enough patience to be able to keep his composure.

“My arse it is!”  Ron mumbled underneath his breath retorting her decision in a rare emotional tidal wave from the professor of transfiguration and head of the Gryffindor house.

“I beg your pardon?” The expression of astonishment on the old teacher's face is immediately replaced by the frown, the stony countenance, and the gaze above the crescent glasses which the students of Hogwarts have learned, since their first year is the equivalent of an imminent and particularly original detention.

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter”, the whisper escapes from a head down, red as hellfire, which, if it keeps going down, there was a good chance of ending up inside its own arse.

Minerva McGonagall has been a teacher at Hogwarts for many years and has certainly seen students from all classes with all kinds of families, personalities and individual problems. So, in theory, she should be versed in dealing with students from all walks of life, but even so, there is always someone in every generation of students, who simply do not fit into any of the classifications made to date. She thought that classification was complete when she had to face the gang led by James Potter and his friends Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, but it seems that this new generation has its own challenge to her patience. A really serious challenge, it seems, and one that is going to require all her patience and experience as a teacher and head of the one of the house of the school.

“Mr. Weasley”, she asks him, after taking a deep breath and composing herself in her office chair while she rests her forearms on the desk in front of her and leans slightly forward.  “This situation cannot be sustained any longer. Please look at my face as I speak to you”, She demands, causing the furious fire in front of her to be replaced by two blue eyes of surprising intensity despite her youth. “Mrs. Pomfrey has already noticed that you have been visiting Miss Granger in the infirmary every night outside curfew. She understands your concern for her and has been turning a blind eye to it to this day, but this situation is already unacceptable.”

The old teacher cannot help but feel a lump in her throat when she remembers the scene before her just a few hours ago when, at the request of the school nurse; she came to the nursing wing.

There, leaning on the bed occupied by the petrified Miss Granger, it stands amidst a jumble of scrolls of sloppy calligraphy; it was the head, with the traces of crying on his face, of a sleeping Ronald Weasley sitting by the bed while holding his friend's hand.

“Mr. Weasley, from this moment on, you are “expressly" forbidden to go back to the infirmary outside visiting hours and especially outside curfew.”

“But Professor. . .” Minerva is not so much surprised by the interruption as by the vehement and passionate tone in which a hint of despair seems to be hidden. “Hermione has been petrified for weeks. She must be deadly bored, so I go and tell her all the things that happen at school, only the nice ones of course. Like the mandrakes are maturing and she'll soon be fine and how boringLockhart’s classes are or how Harry's great at quidditch and he swept the pitch with Malfoy's stinking ass. . .” and then his face lights up like if he's found the definitive and irrefutable point “... she's been out of class and out of notes for a long time. When they wake her up, she's going to be distraught, so I read her my own while I'm with her. I know they're not as good and fucking perfect as hers. . .” the strict instructor's hair stands up on the back of her neck when she hears such language, but not as much as when she feels the intensity of the feeling shining in the child's eyes and translating it into his words, “...but at least they're something and I'm sure she'll be able to improve them as soon as she starts studying because she's the best in the school, whatever asshole face Malfoy says and. . .”

Minerva's detecting something now. There is loyalty in the child's body language, but in his words, she finds something else - devotion. There is a genuine admiration for his friend, an unwavering desire to help her. Hagrid had told her about the slugs incident, and the teacher's pride in her pupil was burning. Initially, she thought of punishing him, but the Gameskeeper's recounting convinced her that the youngest of the Weasley boys had had enough punishment. McGonagall detected something else also: a threat to anyone who dared to harm her.

“Mr Weasley!” She interrupts him. “I think Professor Dumbledore has explained to you that petrified people feel absolutely nothing”. She uses a calm and instructive tone in an attempt to calm his own distress. “For them time has stopped. When Miss Granger is unpetrified, it will have will be very similar to that of having consumed a sleeping without dreams potion.”

“But she'd certainly be looking at how to help Harry and me if we were the ones petrified and missing class. Right now she would be raiding the library trying to find some way to wake us sooner, even if we were as dry as a one-eyed dragon's eye. She's crazy, I know, but I'm sure she would, and besides”, the intensity in his gaze that existed until that moment, disappears and is replaced by a shadow, while his shoulders fall and his voice descends to something more than a whisper. “Besides, it's the only thing I can do after that stupid idea of the kiss failed so, I'm going to keep doing it no matter what”. At that moment Ronald Weasley seems oblivious to where and with whom he is, giving the impression that those last words are, rather, a reflection out loud to himself.

“Mr Weasley!” The professor suddenly stood and looked with open eyes at a stunned redhead whose facial expression quickly changed from surprise to understanding and from understanding to panic-. “Are you telling me that you abused a helpless. . . ?”

“NOOOO!”  The scream from his mouth was if he had been slapped by the accusation. “No. It's not like you think. . . well, it’s . . . but not. . . I mean, I did kiss her, but it's not like that, it's not like that at all any way.”

“Explain yourself”. McGonagall's voice suffers no kindness. It's a pure ice knife ready to attack as soon slightest transgression it detects.

“Last year Hermione was talking to us about the differences in how muggles understand magic, and she was telling us some muggles stories of spells and curses. One of them tells the story of a woman who seems to fall under a spell so similar to the living dead potion and how she is reanimated, not by a potion, but a kiss! Yes. I know it's crazy and that real magic doesn’t work that way, but I thought. . . FUCK!” The imprecation escapes meanwhile he runs his hands through his hair in a reflex act of desperation over his inability to explain the obvious. “Professor Dumbledore spends his time talking about magic and that it has aspects that are completely unknown and mysterious to us, and my best friend survived to the killing curse from the most evil and powerful wizard of all time so I thought, why not? Maybe the crazy muggles were talking through their hats and written their own version, so there was nothing to lose, so I kissed her on the forehead. I did it for her and because I don't like seeing her like that. That doesn't look like Hermione. That doesn't look like my best friend”, he says, collapsing on the chair with his face in his hands.

With all her years, with all her experience, Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, member of the secret society known as The Order of the Phoenix, cannot help but gaze in disbelief at the revelation. One, which very few have had the opportunity to see in all its grandeur: Rebellion, concern, sacrifice, dedication, tenderness, loyalty, devotion, protection. . . desperation. All from an eleven-year-old boy already irrevocably in love with his schoolmate. Too young to be able to recognize her own feeling and give it a name, but so strong and indestructible that the old teacher can only pray to heaven that Hermione Granger's heart will harbour the same feelings for the impetuous and stubborn Ronald Weasley.

[yandere-sins]

Can u write something about the reader and her guardian angel? The reader is treated badly by her town and the angel goes against his rules to go to earth to let them pay and kidnaps her to keep her to himself

Aw, thanks for requesting! My beliefs align with believing in angels, so they are very dear to me, and I love writing for them! And really, a little corruption is a good fantasy, isn’t it? >:3

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

Grumbling, your head knocked backwards against the door as it had been doing for a few hours now. If you didn’t blame yourself so much for being stupid and trusting a stranger, you really, really would have thought that your life was simply dipped into misfortune. After all, who in the world was as unlucky as you? Your village hated you, your parents were never home, so your relatives used you as a cheap servant. All you did was wrong, hurting you or making people around you sneer and reprimand you. You couldn’t even go fetch water without getting wet.

And then suddenly, there had been him. And he looked absolutely beautiful like made by God even. All your worries disappeared when you spent time with him, and you didn’t listen to the rumors of the people that gossiped about you being a gold-digger and trying to land with this foreign, rich-looking man. Because you knew, in a few hours, you would have met with him again, in the secret hide-out in the gardens, with just the two of you. He would hold you, and wipe away the worries from your mind, so who were you to care?

It was a beautiful fantasy, you admitted. At least for a while, you loved the idea of being loved and cared for by this mysterious stranger, who - ever so often - dodged… all of your questions really. If it wasn’t about you, he didn’t want to talk about anyone. You didn’t even have a name to that angelic face of his. Love must have blinded you. So much even, you didn’t think twice as you followed him into this dark basement.

Confused, you had tried to follow as he only smiled, closing the door, promising he’d be back soon for you. You had tried to cry and shout and punch the wood, but it seemed unbudging. As if it was never gonna give away under the feeble force you could apply.

By now, you were just sighing, sitting on the staircase leading up to the door. How much time had passed? What was happening? Only once you had thought you heard a scream from further into the house, but ever since, there was only silence. The wind howled outside the little basement window, and you listened to some chicken pass by, but otherwise, you were left so terribly alone.

Now that you thought about it… Maybe this side of the house wasn’t towards the busiest road of the town, but still, it was weird no one had passed by, hearing your screams at all. The street was eerily quiet now that you tried to put the pieces together. At least, for a Sunday morning. Oh, you wished that at least he would be back. Maybe there still were things to salvage and preserve? Perhaps you could talk it out as to why he’d lock you into the basement? Because worse than feeling betrayed, you began feeling weirded out with how quiet the world around you became.

Getting up, you stepped down the stairs, over to the small window slit with the bars to prevent anyone from coming in. Fumbling around with your hands, you tried to get a grip on the window, which was a little higher up than you were tall, thinking that you’d be able to see if you climbed one of the shelves standing under it. And just when you found a spot to hold on to, you shuddered, something wet and slimy attaching to your fingers.

“Ah-ah,” you heard behind you, your wrist getting caught by a hand gloved in white. Body flush against your back, you couldn’t deny the initial embarrassment you felt, but you were quick to snap out of it, trying to turn around to face him.

“How could you! You locked me in here, how did you even come in!- Wha- What are you doing there?”

Surprised, you looked at your hand getting wiped gently with a white tissue. A bloodred stain slowly soaked into it, making your body freeze as you had to wonder where it was coming from. “Please forgive me for making you wait,” he hummed regretfully, expression jumping from sadness to a smile in a matter of seconds.

“But I have fulfilled my duties, and am ready to take you away now.”

“Wha- What is that even supposed to mean?” you stuttered, watching him drop the tissue and bringing your fingers to his lips, kissing every one of them. “We mustn’t stay in this dirty town any longer, my Love. I cannot have it corrupt you, you know?”

Finally, you looked up at him, his eye color was… not as you remembered it. It had always shimmered in a warm, golden tone, even if now, it seemed almost as dark as the night. He didn’t look mad… or even upset, but his gaze still brought shivers down your spine, and you gulped as he reached behind him, pulling out a piece of fabric from somewhere.

Upon inspecting it closely, it was nothing less than white silk. You didn’t need to touch it to know it would be soft and a joy to feel, but the way he tensed it between his hands, it didn’t reach your mind as enjoyable. “Wait, what are you doing?” you wondered, making the mistake to glance behind him for just a split second, letting off from looking at him.

The last thing you saw before your vision was dunked into the purest of white was the closed door, seemingly never having been opened, as the silk wrapped around your eyes and ears. He adjusted it attentively, making sure that it fulfilled its purpose of blocking out your vision and hearing. Finally, tying the knot tightly, he cupped your face in his palms, leaning in for the fleeting feeling of a kiss on your forehead, ever so gentle, ever so innocent. And just like an animal, once robbed of your senses, you didn’t flail, too flabbergasted of what was happening, and he was glad to pick you up into his arms - yes, overjoyed even.

Soon, he wouldn’t need to use these primitive methods anymore to get you around. However, for now, as you two still had to ascend back to the heavens, he needed to make sure you wouldn’t come in contact with the blood on the ground or have to listen to the dying gurgles of the impaled villagers all around you two. Even if that meant that his own garments slowly soaked from shoes to gloves in the brilliant red of his sins.

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Episode 43 Review: Curiouser and Curiouser

{ YouTube: 1 | 2 | 3 }

{ Full Synopses/Recaps: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }

Maljardin, an isle of mystery. Much remains unknown on Jean Paul Desmond’s isolated island, including the locations of the conjure doll, silver pin, and the missing cyanide, the contents of the final week of Dr. Menkin’s missing notes, and the true cause of death of Jean Paul’s beloved wife Erica. Now that a mysterious black rabbit has appeared on the island which has known no wildlife for three hundred years, new mysteries arise, including one that literally surrounds that rabbit’s neck.

In Ian Martin’s original timeline, this would be the point where the Reverend Matt Dawson exorcised Raxl and Quito’s writing box (although whether that would have revealed the Conjure Man’s also mysterious original message is anyone’s guess), but executive meddling required him to negate that timeline and write about the Rabbit of Evil instead. Come, let’s follow the black rabbit into the increasingly bizarre rabbit hole that is mid-Maljardin-era Strange Paradise.

A minute and a half in, and Cosette Lee is already in top form. Chew that scenery, Cosy!

We open with a recap of the séance from a week and a half ago, courtesy of Raxl and Jean Paul. Raxl gives us the great line above comparing the falling chandelier to “a fist of the devil,” which she delivers beautifully. She connects the falling chandelier to the rabbit who just appeared--or, as she calls it, "this THING that mocks the problem!"

This is Jean Paul’s concerned face.

When she reminds him that the black rabbit appeared out of nowhere on the island which previously harbored no wild animals, he looks increasingly concerned. Whereas in yesterday's episode, he dismissed her claims as superstition and the rabbit as a harmless animal that probably came over on the boat, now he appears willing to think them over. At least that’s how it appears in this part of the scene, although it’s also possible that he’s just worried about Raxl’s sanity. Raxl may be melodramatic and she may sometimes go to extremes in her efforts to protect her home from THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES, but she is arguably saner than you are, Jean Paul.

"Oh, master, believe me!" she begs. "This…thing, this…thing in the form of an animal is a manifestation of evil!"

“Evil, in your eyes, Raxl,” corrects Jean Paul, or so he thinks.

“Not only mine. Look at Quito. He has eyes, too. He knows. Oh, master, believe me! This black rabbit is an emissary of DEATH!”

Jean Paul continues his mansplaining.

Oh, Jean Paul! To think, I had so much hope for you! I guess that, even after repeated possessions, Dr. Menkin's mysterious death, a leaking capsule, a falling chandelier, and all the things that have happened to Holly, you still refuse to believe in "superstition." You know that, down in Hell, Jacques is kicking back in his peacock chair, gloating about this again:

Jacques: “Jean Paul, what was that again about your IQ of 187?” *evil laugh*

"Then how could it be on Maljardin?" she asks.

"The supply boat, perhaps," he repeats from last episode. "Holly Marshall had no trouble in hiding herself in order to get over here. Surely a small animal like this would be even less likely to be noticed." It sounds plausible, but it’s still doubtful that the rabbit would have lasted so long after the supply boat returned to Maljardin without eating some poisonous plant and dying. I doubt that Quito leaves fresh produce just lying around on the boat.

"If you want to, believe that," replies Raxl, "but I believe it is possessed by EVIL!"

"Raxl, it seems that you are the one who is possessed by fear.”

"It seems the Devil is possessing us all, quietly, cunningly, and each day just a little more," she says, before leaving for the crypt. Quito follows behind, carrying the rabbit, who is just as enthusiastic as it was last episode about being part of one of Canada's first domestically-produced soaps. The way it squirms trying to escape from Quito’s arms in the crypt scene is priceless:

ROFLMAO

Meanwhile, Jean Paul argues with Jacques about the rabbit. Jacques agrees with Raxl on the rabbit's supernatural origins, which further angers Jean Paul. He asks him why he wants to convince him of that, and Jacques gives this cryptic reply: "Big beings have little beings on their backs to spite them, and little beings have smaller beings, and so on, ad infinitum."

"Now, perhaps Raxl is right," Jean Paul muses. "Now just what is in your mind?"

"Perhaps you'll find out at the séance," Jacques teases. He goes on to suggest to him that perhaps Erica did not want to be frozen in the "ridiculous" cryonics capsule. Jean Paul gets all defensive in response and accuses him of trying to break their pact. "Isn't it about time that you delivered her back to me?" he demands.

"We'll find out at the next séance," says Jacques, and Jean Paul demands that he not attend. Jacques implies that there may not be another séance (but why not?), and Jean Paul flips out on him:

FEAR the finger of DOOM!

The acting from both Colin and Cosette in this episode is so over-the-top that it’s somewhere in outer space.

And then...

The Reverend Matt Dawson walks in on him arguing with Jacques and thinks that he was talking to himself.

How does Jean Paul respond? Why, by gaslighting him, of course! “It’s hard to imagine that a man of the cloth would lose control so easily,” he says as though Matt were the one with a screw loose. Now, isn’t that charming?

Matt warns Jean Paul that the people on Maljardin--himself included--are looking for an escape. "We are not children, and we are not completely powerless," he tells Jean Paul. "We will find a way to cut the knots that bind us here."

He also says that his faith, which was challenged when he arrived on the island, is returning. Jean Paul uses this as another opportunity to gaslight him: “You are not regaining your faith. You are merely losing your faculties.” One would think that was a Jacques line, but it’s not. There’s neither a shot of the portrait disappearing, nor any Jean Paul headache faces followed by Jacques’ beringed hand grabbing his face, nor is Fox-C grinning psychotically like Jacques would probably do while saying that. It’s Jean Paul at his most unpleasant.

“On Maljardin, only I speak,” he continues. “Others listen.” It’s like he’s determined to be as much of an asshole as possible in this episode. Bless his heart.

But all the despotic orders in the world won’t shut the Reverend up. “Now I know why I came to Maljardin,” he replies, and it’s not to stalk a twenty-year-old teenager. “It was my destiny to be a force of good among all the evil here.”

“A savior?” Jean Paul asks.

“Perhaps,” he replies. “Is there one here who needs saving from himself?”

Sometimes I wonder if Reverend Dawson was intended to be the real hero of SP.

Raxl and Quito enter the Not-So-Hidden Temple of the Serpent with the rabbit. She pleads and begs for the Serpent to give her answers about the Rabbit of Evil, calling the adorable animal a “monster.” This scene is classic Raxl and belongs on any list of Raxl’s best scenes. Here are my two favorite lines from it:

Raxl: "Speak to me, Great One, for the sake of my master and his beloved visitors and for all the spirits in this house who are roasting on the spit of the fire of evil. OPEN YOUR SPEECH TO MY UNDERSTANDING!"

"Quito, TAKE THIS EVIL THING! Its foulness has stilled temporarily the voice of the Great Serpent!"

But it doesn’t stilt the Serpent for long. The mysterious locket at the beginning of this review appears around its neck, where it wasn’t before. When Raxl touches it, it stains her hand with blood.

Meanwhile, in Jean Paul’s hidden monitor room...

Jean Paul: "Erica, my darling, I wonder how you will find me when at last we are together again? I fear the strain of all this has made me hard and cynical. The Reverend is good, twice the man he was when he first arrived. If only he could see the rightness of my cause, he would make such an ally for my purposes." [You’re deluding yourself, Jean Paul. You have zero chance of convincing Matt that your cryonics scheme is anything but blasphemy.]

"Some serve me, to their honor and reward. Some cross me--to their death!"

*reading Teleprompter* "No one understands. There is an inner circle, my love, and it is big enough for just the two of us."

Jean Paul: "My darling, the second séance is very close at hand. The Conjure Woman recovers and this time nothing will stop us!"

*more obvious Teleprompter reading* "You will come, you will speak, and at last for the first time, for just a little while, you and I will be together."

He’s so cute! <3

Like the previous episode, it’s obvious that they rushed this one even in comparison to the others, because of how often Fox-C reads the Teleprompter. I’ve noticed that he does so more often starting during this week of the show and increasingly until Cornelius Crane takes over writing the show--which won’t be for another two weeks--before slowly petering out until Desmond Hall. I see this as a measure of how hastily an episode was slapped together, although I could be making assumptions.

Anyway, Raxl asks Quito if he noticed the bloody locket before, and he shakes his head. “I am right!” exclaims Raxl about her belief that the rabbit was a demon. She follows this up by asking the Serpent, “Where did it come from?” and we cut to the camera panning over the cryonics capsule:

Obvious foreshadowing is obvious.

Quito leaves the temple to find Matt and Holly sneaking into the crypt, and chases them back up to the Great Hall. Holly demands to know where the rabbit is and Raxl (who enters just then) announces that it ran away!

“Discovered something, didn’t you?” Matt asks Raxl. He asks if she found the doll and pin or the week of missing notes, to which she answers no and no. “For Heaven’s sake, what? Another demon?”

Just as baffled as I am that a Christian minister like him doesn’t believe in demons, she accuses him of mocking her. He accuses her of turning irrational, which means that Jean Paul’s “everyone is irrational but me” delusion must be rubbing off on him. Holly accuses Raxl of having already killed the rabbit.

“Foolishness! Madness!” Raxl shouts. “I tell you that-”

Matt interrupts to point to the rabbit, who, despite its tall ears, is somehow able to sleep through this argument. Must have selective hearing.

Holly grabs the rabbit and Raxl starts screaming for her to hand it over. “IT IS EVIL! IT MUST BE KILLED!” she cries as Matt restrains her. “IT MUST BE DESTROYED BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE!” Fortunately for Holly (but unfortunately for Raxl), Jean Paul hears the commotion and comes downstairs to take the rabbit from them.

When he does, we hear the sound of a small object dropping. He leans over to pick it up and reveals the strangest detail so far in this mystery:

Jean Paul: "This locket…" Raxl: "Yes, master, I-" Jean Paul: *more pained* "This locket…was…Erica's!"

Everyone’s jaw drops--which we see in a series of close-ups of all five human actors in this episode--and the music swells. After commercial, Raxl tearfully reveals that Jean Paul gave Erica the locket on her birthday, and tells Jean Paul and the others that she knows that the locket was not around the rabbit’s neck until after she called upon the Serpent. Holly accuses her of being superstitious, and they get into a fight where Raxl tells Holly that she and her fellow Christians don’t understand the spirit world and Holly calls Raxl’s beliefs “mumbo-jumbo.” Matt also accuses Raxl of lying about how the locket appeared “so that we would believe in spirits and demons.” I know that not all Christian denominations believe in the literal existence of spirits and demons, but it’s still odd hearing the Reverend deny their existence.

Raxl calls him a fool, too, and says once again that the rabbit must be killed. She and Holly are about to go back to arguing when Jean Paul cries out, “YOU ARE ALL WRONG!” And then we have yet another shocking revelation: Erica was wearing the locket upon her death, and still when she was entombed in the cryonics capsule!

Somehow he’s able to get the rabbit to hold still for a few minutes, even with all the shouting in the final scene.

In case anyone’s wondering why this entry took so long, it’s because I’ve also been working on a couple posts reviewing Ian Martin’s entire period headwriting this show. That’s what I plan to do at the end of each arc or at the end of each writer’s stint on the show (with the exception of those writers who only wrote a few episodes, like James Elward, Joe Caldwell, and the team of Ron Chudley and George Salverson). You can expect my two-part review of Ian Martin’s SP shortly after my review of Episode 44, which may also be slightly delayed because of it.

Coming up next: Ian Martin’s final episode, the much-anticipated second séance and its shocking conclusion.

{<- Previous: Episode 42   ||   Next: Episode 44 ->}

[kkintle]

Map: Collected and Last Poems by Wisława Szymborska; Quotes

Dreams flickered on white canvas.

The future—who can guess it. The past—who’s got it right.

Trite Rhymes     A great joy: flower upon flower, the branches stretch in pristine blue, but there’s a greater: today’s Tuesday, tomorrow will bring mail from you, and still greater: the letter trembles, strange reading it in spots of sun, and still greater: just a week now, now just four days, now it’s begun, and still greater: I kneel on top and make the suitcase lid shut tight, and still greater: the train at seven, just one ticket, thanks, that’s right, and still greater: rushing windows, with view on view on view on view, and still greater: dark and darker, by nighttime I will be with you, and still greater: the door opens, and still greater: past the door, and still greater: flower on flower. —Ohhh, who are all these roses for?

Do you open each human fate like a book, seeking feelings not in fonts or formats? Are you sure you decipher people completely?

Are people really so simple as far as people go?

Lovers     In this quiet we can still hear what they were singing yesterday about the high road and the low road . . . We hear—but we don’t believe it.   Our smile doesn’t mask our sorrow, and goodness needs no sacrifice. The pity we give to nonlovers is even more than they deserve.   We’re so astonished at ourselves, what’s left to astonish us? Not a rainbow in the night. Not a butterfly in snow.   And when we sleep we dream of parting. But it’s a good dream, it’s a good dream, since we wake up from it.

Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice.

One day, perhaps, some idle tongue mentions your name by accident: I feel as if a rose were flung into the room, all hue and scent.

Why do we treat the fleeting day with so much needless fear and sorrow? It’s in its nature not to stay: today is always gone tomorrow.   With smiles and kisses, we prefer to seek accord beneath our star, although we’re different (we concur) just as two drops of water are.

If we haven’t had enough of despair, grief, all that stuff, lofty words will kill us off.   Then we’ll stand up, take our bows: hope that you’ve enjoyed our show. Every patron with his spouse will applaud, get up, and go.   They’ll reenter their lives’ cages, where love’s tiger sometimes rages, but the beast’s too tame to bite.

I TEACH silence in all languages

FOR PROMISES made by my spouse, who’s tricked so many with his sweet colors and fragrances and sounds— dogs barking, guitars in the street— into believing that they still might conquer loneliness and fright, I cannot be responsible. Mr. Day’s widow, Mrs. Night.

We know ourselves only as far as we’ve been tested. I tell you this from my unknown heart

An Effort     Alack and woe, oh song: you’re mocking me; try as I may, I’ll never be your red, red rose. A rose is a rose is a rose. And you know it.   I worked to sprout leaves. I tried to take root. I held my breath to speed things up, and waited for the petals to enclose me.   Merciless song, you leave me with my lone, nonconvertible, unmetamorphic body: I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.

Leave me, leave, but not by land. Swim off, swim, but not by sea. Fly off, fly away, my dear, but don’t go near the air.   Let’s see each other through closed eyes. Let’s talk together through closed mouths. Let’s hold each other through a thick wall.

Since eternity was out of stock, ten thousand aging things have been amassed instead.

Everything’s mine but just on loan, nothing for the memory to hold, though mine as long as I look.

One day the answer came before the question. Another night they guessed their eyes’ expression by the type of silence in the dark.   Gender fades, mysteries molder, distinctions meet in all-resemblance just as all colors coincide in white.

Sunny. Green. A forest close at hand, with wood to chew on, drops beneath the bark to drink— a view served round the clock, until you go blind.

Parable     Some fishermen pulled a bottle from the deep. It held a piece of paper, with these words: “Somebody save me! I’m here. The ocean cast me on this desert island. I am standing on the shore waiting for help. Hurry! I’m here!” “There’s no date. I bet it’s already too late anyway. It could have been floating for years,” the first fisherman said. “And he doesn’t say where. It’s not even clear which ocean,” the second fisherman said. “It’s not too late, or too far. The island Here is everywhere,” the third fisherman said. They all felt awkward. No one spoke. That’s how it goes with universal truths

Ballad     Hear the ballad “Murdered Woman Suddenly Gets Up from Chair.”   It’s an honest ballad, penned neither to shock nor to offend.   The thing happened fair and square, with curtains open, lamps all lit:   passersby could stop and stare.   When the door had shut behind him and the killer ran downstairs, she stood up, just like the living startled by the sudden silence.   She gets up, she moves her head, and she looks around with eyes harder than they were before.   No, she doesn’t float through air: she steps on the ordinary, wooden, slightly creaky floor.   In the oven she burns traces that the killer’s left behind: here a picture, there shoelaces, everything that she can find.   It’s obvious that she’s not strangled. It’s obvious that she’s not shot. She’s been killed invisibly.   She may still show signs of life, cry for sundry silly reasons, shriek in horror at the sight of a mouse.                      Ridiculous traits are so predictable that they aren’t hard to fake.   She got up like you and me.   She walks just as people do.   And she sings and combs her hair, which still grows.

I let myself be invented, modeled on my own reflection in his eyes. I dance, dance, dance in the stir of sudden wings.

Exiled by style. Only their ribs stood out. With birdlike feet and palms, they strove to take wing on their jutting shoulder blades.   The thirteenth century would have given them golden halos. The twentieth, silver screens. The seventeenth, alas, holds nothing for the unvoluptuous.   For even the sky bulges here with pudgy angels and a chubby god— thick-whiskered Phoebus, on a sweaty steed, riding straight into the seething bedchamber

He grew rozes with a “z.

(...) the rest of your life? Old age is a precipice, (...)

I am too close for him to dream of me.

Silence—this word also rustles across the page and parts the boughs that have sprouted from the word “woods.”

Funny little thing How could she know that even despair can work for you if you’re lucky enough to outlive it.

The Railroad Station     My nonarrival in the city of N. took place on the dot.   You’d been alerted in my unmailed letter.   You were able not to be there at the agreed-upon time.   The train pulled up at Platform 3. A lot of people got out.   My absence joined the throng as it made its way toward the exit.   Several women rushed to take my place in all that rush.   Somebody ran up to one of them. I didn’t know him, but she recognized him immediately.   While they kissed with not our lips, a suitcase disappeared, not mine.   The railroad station in the city of N. passed its exam in objective existence with flying colors.   The whole remained in place. Particulars scurried along the designated tracks.   Even a rendezvous took place as planned.   Beyond the reach of our presence.   In the paradise lost of probability.   Somewhere else. Somewhere else. How these little words ring. Alive     These days we just hold him

But this is ancient history. I can’t dwell on it forever or keep asking endlessly, what’s next, what’s next.   Day to day I trust in permanence, in history’s prospects. I can’t gnaw apples in a constant state of terror.

Arduous ease, watchful agility, and calculated inspiration.

Old Folks’ Home     Here comes Her Highness—well, you know who I mean, our Helen the snooty—now who made her queen! With her lipstick and wig on, as if we could care, like her three sons in heaven can see her from there!   “I wouldn’t be here if they’d lived through the war. I’d spend winter with one son, summer with another.” What makes her so sure? I’d be dead too now, with her for a mother.   And she keeps on asking (“I don’t mean to pry”) why from your sons and daughters there’s never a word even though they weren’t killed. “If my boys were alive, I’d spend all my holidays home with the third.”   Right, and in his gold carriage he’d come and get her, drawn by a swan or a lily-white dove, to show all of us that he’ll never forget her and how much he owes to her motherly love.   Even Jane herself, the nurse, can’t help but grin when our Helen starts singing this old song again— even though Jane’s job is commiseration Monday through Friday, with two weeks’ vacation.

Sell me your soul. There are no other takers.   There is no other devil anymore.

I’m bound to pass by all these poppies and pansies. What a loss when you think how much effort was spent perfecting this petal, this pistil, this scent for the one-time appearance, which is all they’re allowed, so aloofly precise and so fragilely proud.

The abyss doesn’t divide us. The abyss surrounds us.

In Praise of Dreams     In my dreams I paint like Vermeer van Delft.   I speak fluent Greek and not just with the living.   I drive a car that does what I want it to.   I am gifted and write mighty epics.   I hear voices as clearly as any venerable saint.   My brilliance as a pianist would stun you.   I fly the way we ought to, i.e., on my own.   Falling from the roof, I tumble gently to the grass.   I’ve got no problem breathing under water.   I can’t complain: I’ve been able to locate Atlantis.   It’s gratifying that I can always wake up before dying.   As soon as war breaks out, I roll over on my other side.   I’m a child of my age, but I don’t have to be.   A few years ago I saw two suns.   And the night before last a penguin, clear as day.

True love. Is it normal, is it serious, is it practical? What does the world get from two people who exist in a world of their own?

Let the people who never find true love keep saying that there’s no such thing.   Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

And it so happened that I’m here with you. And I really see nothing usual in that. 

Under One Small Star     My apologies to chance for calling it necessity. My apologies to necessity if I’m mistaken, after all. Please, don’t be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due. May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade. My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second. My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first. Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home. Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger. I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths. I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at five A.M. Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time. Pardon me, deserts, that I don’t rush to you bearing a spoonful of water. And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage, your gaze always fixed on the same point in space, forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed. My apologies to the felled tree for the table’s four legs. My apologies to great questions for small answers. Truth, please don’t pay me much attention. Dignity, please be magnanimous. Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train.   Soul, don’t take offense that I’ve only got you now and then. My apologies to everything that I can’t be everywhere at once. My apologies to everyone that I can’t be each woman and each man. I know I won’t be justified as long as I live, since I myself stand in my own way. Don’t bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words, then labor heavily so that they may seem light.

Non omnis moriar—a premature worry.

Thank-You Note     I owe so much to those I don’t love.   The relief as I agree that someone else needs them more.   The happiness that I’m not the wolf to their sheep.   The peace I feel with them, the freedom— love can neither give nor take that.   I don’t wait for them, as in window-to-door-and-back. Almost as patient as a sundial, I understand what love can’t, and forgive as love never would.   From a rendezvous to a letter is just a few days or weeks, not an eternity.   Trips with them always go smoothly, concerts are heard, cathedrals visited, scenery is seen.   And when seven hills and rivers come between us, the hills and rivers can be found on any map.   They deserve the credit if I live in three dimensions, in nonlyrical and nonrhetorical space with a genuine, shifting horizon.   They themselves don’t realize how much they hold in their empty hands.   “I don’t owe them a thing” would be love’s answer to this open question.

Dentistry turned to diplomatic skill promises us a Golden Age tomorrow. The going’s rough, and so we need the laugh of bright incisors, molars of goodwill. Our times are still not safe and sane enough for faces to show ordinary sorrow.

Our solitary existence exacerbates our sense of obligation, and raises the inevitable question, How are we to live et cetera? since “we can’t avoid the void.

No way out? But what about the door? No prospects? The window had other views.

You think at least the note must tell us something. But what if I say there was no note— and he had so many friends, but all of us fit neatly inside the empty envelope propped up against a cup.

(...) to linger longer, not to go home again. Since only prisoners want to go home.

In Praise of Feeling Bad about Yourself     The buzzard never says it is to blame. The panther wouldn’t know what scruples mean. When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame. If snakes had hands, they’d claim their hands were clean.   A jackal doesn’t understand remorse. Lions and lice don’t waver in their course. Why should they, when they know they’re right?   Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton, in every other way they’re light.   On this third planet of the sun among the signs of bestiality a clear conscience is number one.

I know nothing of the role I play. I only know it’s mine, I can’t exchange it.   I have to guess on the spot just what this play’s all about

The star is large and distant, so distant that it’s small, even smaller than others much smaller than it.

Small wonder, then, if we were struck with wonder; as we would be if only we had the time.

God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men.

“How should we live?” someone asked me in a letter. I had meant to ask him the same question.   Again, and as ever, as may be seen above, the most pressing questions are naïve ones.

Whatever you say reverberates, whatever you don’t say speaks for itself. So either way you’re talking politics.

Who knows you matters more than whom you know. Trips only if taken abroad. Memberships in what but without why. Honors, but not how they were earned. (...) Price, not worth, and title, not what’s inside. His shoe size, not where he’s off to, that one you pass off as yourself.

Nothing’s sacred for those who think. Calling things brazenly by name, risqué analyses, salacious syntheses, frenzied, rakish chases after the bare facts, the filthy fingering of touchy subjects, discussion in heat—it’s music to their ears.

During these trysts of theirs, the only thing that’s steamy is the tea.

May delivery be easy, may our child grow and be well. Let him be happy from time to time and leap over abysses. Let his heart have strength to endure and his mind be awake and reach far.   But not so far that it sees into the future. Spare him that one gift, O heavenly powers.

For the sake of the children that we still are, fairy tales have happy endings. That’s the only finale that will do here, too. The rain will stop, the waves will subside, the clouds will part in the cleared-up sky, and they’ll be once more what clouds overhead ought to be: lofty and rather lighthearted in their likeness to things drying in the sun— isles of bliss, lambs, cauliflowers, diapers.

I prefer, where love’s concerned, nonspecific anniversaries that can be celebrated every day.

A miracle, just take a look around: the inescapable earth.   An extra miracle, extra and ordinary: the unthinkable can be thought.

When I see such things, I’m no longer sure that what’s important is more important than what’s not.

Hatred is a master of contrast— between explosions and dead quiet, red blood and white snow.

Perhaps all fields are battlefields, those we remember and those that are forgotten: (...)

Without us dreams couldn’t exist. The one on whom the real world depends is still unknown, and the products of his insomnia are available to anyone who wakes up.

Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.

We agreed to death, but not to every kind. Love attracted us, of course, but only love that keeps its word.

We were besieged by doubts. Does knowing everything beforehand really mean knowing everything.   Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice.

We’re extremely fortunate not to know precisely the kind of world we live in.

I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.

They aren’t obliged to vanish when we’re gone. They don’t have to be seen while sailing on.

The Three Oddest Words     When I pronounce the word Future, the first syllable already belongs to the past.   When I pronounce the word Silence, I destroy it.   When I pronounce the word Nothing, I make something no nonbeing can hold.

But how to answer unasked questions, while being furthermore a being so totally a nobody to you.

Talking with you is essential and impossible. Urgent in this hurried life and postponed to never.

Understanding came only later: not all misadventures fit within the world’s laws and even if they wanted to, they couldn’t happen.

And what can you say about one day of life, a minute, a second: darkness, a lightbulb’s flash, then dark again?   KOSMOS MAKROS CHRONOS PARADOKSOS Only stony Greek has words for that.

There must be an exit somewhere, that’s more than certain. But you don’t look for it, it looks for you, it’s been stalking you from the start, and this labyrinth is none other than than your, for the duration, your, until not your, flight, flight— (...)

Life on Earth is quite a bargain. Dreams, for one, don’t charge admission. Illusions are costly only when lost. The body has its own installment plan.   And as an extra, added feature, you spin on the planets’ carousel for free, and with it you hitch a ride on the intergalactic blizzard, with times so dizzying that nothing here on Earth can even tremble.

At times I get fed up with her. I suggest a separation. From now to eternity. Then she smiles at me with pity, since she knows it would be the end of me too. 

Assassins     They think for days on end, how to kill so as to kill, and how many killed will be many. Apart from this they eat their meals with gusto, pray, wash their feet, feed the birds, make phone calls while scratching their armpits, stanch blood when they cut a finger, if they’re women they buy sanitary napkins, eye shadow, flowers for vases, they make jokes on their good days, drink citrus juice from the fridge, watch the moon and stars at night, place headphones with soft music on their ears and sleep sweetly till the crack of dawn —unless what they’re thinking needs doing at night.

It’s good you came. Sit here beside me. He really was supposed to get back Thursday. But we’ve got so many Thursdays left this year.

Page after page at a snail’s pace. But we’re still going in fifth gear and, knock on wood, never better.

We eat another life so as to live. A corpse of pork with departed cabbage. Every menu is an obituary.   Even the kindest of souls must consume, digest something killed so that their warm hearts won’t stop beating.

In the end I stopped knowing what I’d been looking for so long.   I woke up. Looked at my watch. The dream took not quite two and a half minutes.   Such are the tricks to which time resorts ever since it started stumbling on sleeping heads.

[clinioelerrante]

A peculiar discovery.

“This is absurd, Mr. Weasley!”  said McGonagall. There was a touch of weariness in his complaint and a perfect point of exasperation and disbelief when he rolled her eyes and raised her hands to heaven like asking to Most High for enough patience to be able to keep his composure.

“My arse it is!”  Ron mumbled underneath his breath retorting her decision in a rare emotional tidal wave from the professor of transfiguration and head of the Gryffindor house.

“I beg your pardon?” The expression of astonishment on the old teacher’s face is immediately replaced by the frown, the stony countenance, and the gaze above the crescent glasses which the students of Hogwarts have learned, since their first year is the equivalent of an imminent and particularly original detention.

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter”, the whisper escapes from a head down, red as hellfire, which, if it keeps going down, there was a good chance of ending up inside its own arse.

Minerva McGonagall has been a teacher at Hogwarts for many years and has certainly seen students from all classes with all kinds of families, personalities and individual problems. So, in theory, she should be versed in dealing with students from all walks of life, but even so, there is always someone in every generation of students, who simply do not fit into any of the classifications made to date. She thought that classification was complete when she had to face the gang led by James Potter and his friends Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, but it seems that this new generation has its own challenge to her patience. A really serious challenge, it seems, and one that is going to require all her patience and experience as a teacher and head of the one of the house of the school.

“Mr. Weasley”, she asks him, after taking a deep breath and composing herself in her office chair while she rests her forearms on the desk in front of her and leans slightly forward.  “This situation cannot be sustained any longer. Please look at my face as I speak to you”, She demands, causing the furious fire in front of her to be replaced by two blue eyes of surprising intensity despite her youth. “Mrs. Pomfrey has already noticed that you have been visiting Miss Granger in the infirmary every night outside curfew. She understands your concern for her and has been turning a blind eye to it to this day, but this situation is already unacceptable.”

The old teacher cannot help but feel a lump in her throat when she remembers the scene before her just a few hours ago when, at the request of the school nurse; she came to the nursing wing.

There, leaning on the bed occupied by the petrified Miss Granger, it stands amidst a jumble of scrolls of sloppy calligraphy; it was the head, with the traces of crying on his face, of a sleeping Ronald Weasley sitting by the bed while holding his friend’s hand.

“Mr. Weasley, from this moment on, you are “expressly" forbidden to go back to the infirmary outside visiting hours and especially outside curfew.”

“But Professor…” Minerva is not so much surprised by the interruption as by the vehement and passionate tone in which a hint of despair seems to be hidden. “Hermione has been petrified for weeks. She must be deadly bored, so I go and tell her all the things that happen at school, only the nice ones of course. Like the mandrakes are maturing and she’ll soon be fine and how boringLockhart’s classes are or how Harry’s great at quidditch and he swept the pitch with Malfoy’s stinking ass…” and then his face lights up like if he’s found the definitive and irrefutable point “… she’s been out of class and out of notes for a long time. When they wake her up, she’s going to be distraught, so I read her my own while I’m with her. I know they’re not as good and fucking perfect as hers…” the strict instructor’s hair stands up on the back of her neck when she hears such language, but not as much as when she feels the intensity of the feeling shining in the child’s eyes and translating it into his words, “…but at least they’re something and I’m sure she’ll be able to improve them as soon as she starts studying because she’s the best in the school, whatever asshole face Malfoy says and…”

Minerva’s detecting something now. There is loyalty in the child’s body language, but in his words, she finds something else - devotion. There is a genuine admiration for his friend, an unwavering desire to help her. Hagrid had told her about the slugs incident, and the teacher’s pride in her pupil was burning. Initially, she thought of punishing him, but the Gameskeeper’s recounting convinced her that the youngest of the Weasley boys had had enough punishment. McGonagall detected something else also: a threat to anyone who dared to harm her.

“Mr Weasley!” She interrupts him. “I think Professor Dumbledore has explained to you that petrified people feel absolutely nothing”. She uses a calm and instructive tone in an attempt to calm his own distress. “For them time has stopped. When Miss Granger is unpetrified, it will have will be very similar to that of having consumed a sleeping without dreams potion.”

“But she’d certainly be looking at how to help Harry and me if we were the ones petrified and missing class. Right now she would be raiding the library trying to find some way to wake us sooner, even if we were as dry as a one-eyed dragon’s eye. She’s crazy, I know, but I’m sure she would, and besides”, the intensity in his gaze that existed until that moment, disappears and is replaced by a shadow, while his shoulders fall and his voice descends to something more than a whisper. “Besides, it’s the only thing I can do after that stupid idea of the kiss failed so, I’m going to keep doing it no matter what”. At that moment Ronald Weasley seems oblivious to where and with whom he is, giving the impression that those last words are, rather, a reflection out loud to himself.

“Mr Weasley!” The professor suddenly stood and looked with open eyes at a stunned redhead whose facial expression quickly changed from surprise to understanding and from understanding to panic-. “Are you telling me that you abused a helpless… ?”

“NOOOO!”  The scream from his mouth was if he had been slapped by the accusation. “No. It’s not like you think… well, it’s … but not… I mean, I did kiss her, but it’s not like that, it’s not like that at all any way.”

“Explain yourself”. McGonagall’s voice suffers no kindness. It’s a pure ice knife ready to attack as soon slightest transgression it detects.

“Last year Hermione was talking to us about the differences in how muggles understand magic, and she was telling us some muggles stories of spells and curses. One of them tells the story of a woman who seems to fall under a spell so similar to the living dead potion and how she is reanimated, not by a potion, but a kiss! Yes. I know it’s crazy and that real magic doesn’t work that way, but I thought… FUCK!” The imprecation escapes meanwhile he runs his hands through his hair in a reflex act of desperation over his inability to explain the obvious. “Professor Dumbledore spends his time talking about magic and that it has aspects that are completely unknown and mysterious to us, and my best friend survived to the killing curse from the most evil and powerful wizard of all time so I thought, why not? Maybe the crazy muggles were talking through their hats and written their own version, so there was nothing to lose, so I kissed her on the forehead. I did it for her and because I don’t like seeing her like that. That doesn’t look like Hermione. That doesn’t look like my best friend”, he says, collapsing on the chair with his face in his hands.

With all her years, with all her experience, Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, member of the secret society known as The Order of the Phoenix, cannot help but gaze in disbelief at the revelation. One, which very few have had the opportunity to see in all its grandeur: Rebellion, concern, sacrifice, dedication, tenderness, loyalty, devotion, protection… desperation. All from an eleven-year-old boy already irrevocably in love with his schoolmate. Too young to be able to recognize her own feeling and give it a name, but so strong and indestructible that the old teacher can only pray to heaven that Hermione Granger’s heart will harbour the same feelings for the impetuous and stubborn Ronald Weasley.

The owner of all rights is JKR.

This was my work for the Romioneficfest 2020.

I apologize to the heirs of Shakespeare, but, I was really dying to publish something on Romioneficfest. I hope you can forgive my terrible English. A million thanks to the festival's moderator, who revised my grammar and put this story on a diet to keep it within the regulated parameters.

There's a dragon lady. That even though she always looks angry, we all know she has a tender heart.

Thank you.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post#Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated T #Rated PG-13 #Mod note: Emailed to me and asked to edit.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120641/chapters/63539629

[enevi]

Shirogane no Oka, Kuro no Tsuki - Volume One

Welcome to Tai Kingdom where terror and hunger reign. The winter is coming and this time many more than before may not survive the cold season for granaries are empty and outsiders are not welcome anywhere. The country is dying slow and painful death.

 Enshi was born in Jou Province and married at eighteen. Had two children. Three years ago her hometown, like many other places, was burned down for harboring the fugitive and many did not survive. Among them was her husband. Survivors were taken in for the winter by the neighboring village but later they had to fend for themselves. So the young widow left with two children to roam the country in hope to find a new place to call home. Last winter she lost her four year old daughter to the cold and hunger and couldn't even bury the girl herself because the frozen ground was too hard to dig into. The one to help her was the man named Kouryou, the wanderer like herself.

 It was almost one year ago and now the three of them: Kouryou, Enshi and her three year old son, Ritsu are roaming the Ten County in Kou Province formerly known for many beautiful temples. Most of them were destroyed for going against the new government, the most famous of them being Zui'un Temple, burned down for questioning the mysterious disappearance of their liege.

 As the night is falling three weary travelers try to find a place to stay in for the night in the small village of Touka, along the county highway but are driven away by the young shepherd as many villages close their gates for the outsiders not wanting extra mouths to feed. Disappointed but relatively calm the wanderers go on to find the place good enough to camp.

  Then in the nearby forest they are suddenly attacked by unknown assailants. Kouryou tells Enshi to run and starts to fight the attackers. She does but slips in the dark and almost falls down the cliff just to be saved by the young man hiding there. Meanwhile the mysterious woman with a flying beast comes to Kouryou's aid and together they are able to win the fight but not for long as the shepherd lurking in the dark takes the young man hostage trying to save his fallen comrades.

  Unexpectedly it turns out that Kouryou knows their savior and it's General Risai, meaning that the one being threatened is Taiki, the Kingdom's missing kirin. Enshi is shocked that her companion not only is used to fighting but just a few years ago was part of the Royal Army. Also, the young shepherd's name is Kyoshi and he's one of the surviving priests that were taken in by Touka's residents after Zui'un Temple massacre. Later it is explained that Enshi and Kouryou were mistakenly attacked because one of the villagers saw two people of flying beasts and they panicked thinking that the government officials discovered survivors whereabouts and were trying to silence the alleged spies.

  Misunderstanding cleared up everyone goes back to the village to rest and talk about everything that happened till now. Kouryou and Kyoshi find out how Risai and Taiki returned to Tai and made to the one provincial palace but as it was too tightly guarded they never made it inside and had to look for the place to get under the Sea of Clouds. Then Risai remembered about the abandoned mountain in Kou Province and so they came here trying to make it to the part of Bun Province where Gyousou was last seen. In turn Kouryou tells them about his last meeting with the King in the city of Rin'u and how he disappeared after he and twenty five of his personal guards left his troops to do 'something' and never met with the troops that were later going the same way. And how he and his superior decided to go dark after getting Risai's message about Asen's betrayal and then getting order to pursue her as the alleged regicide. They made their arrangements but somewhere along the way their communication network broke and Kouryou was left to roam the countryside without any information about his allies. Kyoshi also tells his story about the escape and coming to the Touka village. And how Zui'un survivors never have stopped believing and praying for the safe return of their rightful lieges as the government under Asen's rule almost destroyed the country that is barely hanging on. Their hope doesn't wane even when Taiki admits to having no kirin powers as his horn was cut off, basically being powerless and defenseless. He also tells them that the easiest way to deal with the problem is to kill him as it will result in Gyousou's death (wherever he is) and the birth of the new Tai kirin. Of course no one wants to hear that and everyone assures Taiki that his return alone is miracle itself and will give people the hope they desperately need.

  After planning their next steps and getting enough rest Taiki and Risai leave Touka for Bun Province accompanied by their flying beast (Hi'en and unnamed suugu) and Kouryou and Kyoshi. Just before their departure Enshi and Ritsu come to say good-bye to Kouryou. She know she's supposed to be happy because after years of roaming around the country they finally found new place to live, but deep down she grieves the loss of the companion and protector whom she came to love so dearly during their journey.

  ***

  Meanwhile somewhere in the hidden cellar in Bun Province the orphaned boy takes care of the man who tried to but couldn't save the boy's father from wandering youma and after man's death took the poor lad in. Thus the boy became his son. His warrior. Now the man lies ill, barely conscious and always singing the old and creepy song about the tragic fate of the foot soldier, whose ultimate fate is to be left to crows after dying on the battlefield.

    As Taiki and his companions travel to Rin'u they meet their guide Houto, whose everyday job is to deliver special medicine made by Temple priests and other goods to every citizen in need. Thanks to his wide connections the group can travel undercover and doesn't have to worry about places to sleep. As they make their way to Bun Province Risai and Taiki come face to face with the dire state their homeland fell into and how hopeless their own situation seems to be. Asen rules with iron fist and every resistance no matter how small is punished by death. The people abandoned by their ruler struggle every day just trying to survive and have no time to worry about the king said to be death, let alone thinking about rising against the new government.

  One morning as Risai prepares to leave the city of Sekijou, she discovers that Taiki is gone. Confused and terrified she confronts Kyoshi who tells her that kirin woke him just before the sunrise and announced that he has no time and that Heaven is telling him 'to go'. Doesn't know where to, but feels that it's his duty to obey the will of Gods. And that the others have to continue to search for any clues about Gyousou's whereabouts. Taiki had wanted to go alone knowing Risai would never let him go but Kyoshi begged him to at least let Kouryou accompany him as a guard. Kirin agreed and together they left. At first Risai feels hurt and betrayed but then admits that Taiki was right, because even as knows that the kirin is all grown up, in her heart he still is a child she remembers him to be. And that she has to make peace with the thought that a the envoy of Gods sometimes he has to do the things that others don't understand. But then she starts to worry as Taiki left behind the travel pass (passport?) provided by Youko and has no way to prove his false identity.

    After a few days of silent treatment Kouryou works up the courage to finally confront Taiki about their destination as they're clearly heading toward the capital city of Kouki. And that's not a good place to be. As they rest in the inn after dinner kirin finally admits that the story about the 'will of Heaven' was I lie and yes, Taiki wants not only to go to Kouki but to gain access to Hakkei Palace. And he plans to tell a lie. Lie about Asen being the new King of Tai to regain his position as King's Advisor and use his influence to aid struggling subjects before the winter comes. Taiki also warns Kouryou that the only way to stop him is to tie him up because if left alone he would just mount his suugu and go without his guard, so Kouryou surrenders and so the next day they leave for the capital. When his companion asks how are they suppose to get in, to which Taiki answers "through the Front Gate". Which tells a lot as there are five city gates and the main one is reserved only for the King and his kirin. And so they do.

  As they get arrested and are escorted by the guards Kouryou notices that surprisingly the city hasn't change a lot during his long absence but he still feels that something's not right. His suspicions get confirmed when they do get into the palace but are placed in a prison cell-like room but slightly better furnished. At first Taiki is calm and reassures Kouryou that he expected this kind of treatment as no one sane would just believe just like that that suspicious black-haired lad is the kirin himself. But after a few days of no information he starts to worry. And when they finally convince the servant taking care of them (man named Heichuu) to tell them something they find out that situation in the Palace is much more complicated than any of them suspected.

  First of all, Asen is not running the show and nowadays he spends his time holed up deep within the Inner Palace and rarely shows up. And that in practice the real person in power is chousai Chouun (former Minister of Spring) and his comrades. What's more strange is the fact that no one among the servants knows anything as it's not clear who gives what orders, which are frequently contradicting and so on. The good example being Heichuu himself - getting suddenly transferred and being told to 'take care of the person claiming to be Saiho' with no further instructions.

  As Heichuu describes it "everything is divided and the Court lost its unity". Which comes as no surprise as we see how worked up the courtiers became after Taiki's arrival. No one knows how to check the validity of the visitor's claim as most of the people who knew him before his disappearance are no longer part of the Palace staff. Finally after the long search they find one person - servant named Shouwa, who was one of the maids taking care of Saiho. And after meeting with Taiki she confirms that indeed the young man is the missing kirin of Tai. Unfortunately, the council suspects that either Taiki himself is lying or someone tries to use him against Asen, thus they make no effort to inform him about his new 'position'.

***

    As courtiers are debating what to do the young girl named Yari sends courier bird to someone and then walks up to the man sitting in stable in front of the stall which Keito - Gyousou's mount is in. The man turns out to be Ganchou who was presumed to be missing. There she informs him about Taiki's return and the revelation he brought with him. Ganchou is shocked and doesn't want to believe it but at the same fears the worst - that the rightful King is really dead.

  The others wondering about the current situation are two of Asen's subordinates - Kisen and Hinken. The former was always proud to be the General's man and is worried that Asen withdrawing from others' company is his way of saying that they failed him. Also he always thought that it was Asen who was meant to be the King. Hinken being sort of older brother figure tries to console him.

  ***

 When Risai and her companions finally make it to the Rin'u they head over to the local temple where the priest already knows the purpose of their visit, so they make it their temporary base. At least in the beginning, because it turns out that formerly renowned and beautiful temple transformed into the refugee camp housing the large numbers of people with no place to go. And as any sort of gathering is strictly forbidden the head priest doesn't want to invite unwanted attention from the province officials, therefore he warns Risai about proceeding cautiously because the safety of the people depending on them is temple's main priority. So the group finds the other place to stay as not to be associated with the Temple just in case something went wrong. And in spite of warnings, the young priest who was appointed as their guide, Kiitsu, starts bringing over them some of the refugees that may know something about King's disappearance. As it turns out he's right, because one of them, the young man, tells them the story of his and his brother pursue to see the marching army during the uprising in the Bun Province that took place six years ago.

 As the men climbed the rocks at night to get to the place with a good view they lost their way and accidentally saw Gyousou riding the narrow mountain pass with his guards only for the guards to come back some time later but in less numbers, some of them clearly wounded and with no King in sight. After hearing man's story Risai and other debate about going after their only the only evidence of Gyousou's presence - the bloodstained belt that was supposedly dropped in the vicinity of Mt. Kan'you where precious gemstones could once be found before the source ran dry...

BACK

[theashofwkm]

Impossibly Alive

Summary: corpses don’t move, but is it still considered a corpse if it keeps coming back to life?

Prompt: Goretober, corpse

Warnings: dead body (obviously), wound mentions, death talk, blood mention, mark is suicidal and wants to be dead, planning a murder/suicide.

Note: day eight. idk how I feel about this one, tbh. hope you all like it!

———

Corpses don’t move.

Mark’s has been doing so for months. He doesn’t die at the Poker Party, when William shoots him. That’s not the wound that killed him. It did worsen things, did kill, technically, but he was already dead. Sort of.

It was all a messy ordeal, the dying but not being dead thing. He didn’t even understand it, not really.

Typically, people only die once and it’s game over. Mark dies dozens of times, but keeps getting dragged back to the pile of flesh and bone that is his corpse. His old body.

Lights flicker out, he has some quality time in a dark void where a voice whispers that he’s not done yet, he has a job to do and until he does it, he cannot die. Then he wakes up, in his body, in a pool of his blood, with pain from his attempt at death, but alive.

Somehow, alive. Impossibly so.

It’s like a kind of purgatory, the void. Not heaven, where he lives out his best days, his ultimate dream. Not hell, where he suffers and gets punished for all his wrongdoings, his sins. Just an inbetween nothing that whispers his inability to stay dead.

Maybe it should feel like a gift, a blessing. It feels like a curse. A twisted, messed up curse.

If he knew what he had to do, he’d do it. Whatever it was. He’s desperate and tired and just wants it all to be over. He’d do anything, to just stay a corpse.

Try as he might, none of his attempts work. Every try, he gets scolded, like a child who didn’t do their chores. He’s a grown man who’s decisions have been taken, by voices in a dark void. It’s stupid. Unbelievable. But it’s the life he lives, now.

He still doesn’t know what he has to do. The voice mocks him, taunting him with a teasing “what you most desire.” He desires death and that isn’t working.

He drowns. That’s when the voices offer him something substantial, something he can work with.

A man stole your wife, your fortune, everything you had of value. Are you going to let him?

The voice wants him to enact revenge on William. Immediately, his first thought is to kill him, but it doesn’t sit right. He can’t kill anyone, especially his childhood friend, even if he was the reason Mark was miserable.

He’s too nice, somehow. Merciful to a man he doesn’t need to be merciful towards. This could go down simply, he could shoot William and then himself and have it all be over.

Acting wasn’t his career path because he was good at pretending. It was because he had a flair for the dramatic. If he goes out, having to enact revenge, he’d go with a bang.

William didn’t need to die to pay for what he did.

No, he could suffer in life. Rot in prison and sit, knowing that he’d killed his childhood friend, his brother. It is a brilliant plan, to tie the two things together. It might not work, Mark might still come back, but that stain would remain on William’s soul.

A murder charge would ruin his life quite thoroughly. And if he didn’t stay dead, then an asylum would gladly accept him when he spouted nonsense about shooting Mark, and him falling, not breathing, just to come back a few hours later. Crazy talk, is what it was.

It really was the perfect plan for revenge.

Celine would never stay with him, if he was shipped off to a cell or talking insane. Though, she might see past the insane and recognize the truth. She was a seer, after all, a magic worker. Maybe she’d make the connection between his immortal state and the house’s demon, as she called it. Oh, how she’d been obsessed with the thing, when they were married.

“The house is possessed,” she’d say. “There’s something evil here.”

Now, it’s turned out to be true. Different angles, something evil has lived in the house. The voice is the obvious one, most likely what she sensed, but others now fit that description. William, for stealing his wife and fortune. Herself, maybe, for letting herself be wooed. Mark. For planning his own murder, to make William a killer. It was dealer’s choice, really.

So any evils, so many persons with their own sins. One could could the house a den of evil. Arguments could be made that his parents were less then saints, and that there was a reason relief swept through the town when they’d died mysteriously.

Festering grounds for hatred, resentment, evil. Maybe the house is what had turned them all, or maybe that’s how they were destined to be.

Except for the fact that without it, Mark would be dead. Honestly, completely dead. Not planning to send his friend off the deep end, to jail. Without the outside influence, he’d just be a body in the dirt. It’s what he deserves.

Mark was never a saint either.

For Celine, he’d cleaned up his act some, had gone out of his way to be kinder to others. Had put in effort to drink less. He’d tried to be good, for her. She’d left anyways and now he was back to old habits. Looking for clarity in empty glass bottles.

Surprisingly, this time it had provided him with more then a hangover the next day. This time, it had offered him a plan that gets him everything he needs to get what he wants.

The party goes smoothly. William is laughably easy to coerce into murder, even if accidental. Fingers crossed behind his back, his body becomes a corpse again. He goes to void, and the body moves.

Dead, not in his body, the corpse moves. Falls from nowhere to startle the District Attourney. Disappears from the room, the premesis when the Detective turns away.

Panic spreads, Mark’s body is returned, once again with him, although not on the physical plane. How it got there, he’s not sure, but it’s nice to be back inside familiar flesh. Bleeding and broken as it was.

There’s a light behind him. Instinctively, he knows that it’s his ticket to move on, to finally stay dead. He stays, let’s it burn behind him while he watches chaos ensue at the Manor.

He plays dead when the light goes out and he suddenly has company. There’s a buzz in his mind, a film like feeling he can’t describe. He’s not alone, in his body. It’s a strange thing to realize, but stranger things have happened recently, the past twenty four hours especially.

Seeing Damien upset is heartbreaking. Pleading to their old friend, confused and desperate, cracks at his heart, what’s left of it. He hadn’t deserved any of this.

When Celine performs a spell, starting something permanent and irreversible and arguably evil — he gets sucked in too. Taunting Damien, he plays a crucial part in creating his arch nemesis, a villain. When they all come back, when Dark is born, Mark makes a choice.

He turns his back on the light of the afterlife. Accepting his immortality as the gift it was, the gift it always had been.

It was going to be a hell of a rivalry.

———

Masterlist

TAGGING: @pleaseletthisjimbetaken @electricprincess888 @berrie-b @mackenziplier @gerardwayslips @risiskifi @cawestad @theinvisiblespoon @californiakxng @just-another-starfish @superawesomeamazingname @moonstonefox12 @bones-and-tomes @am-i-heaven-or-am-i-hell @itsbumblebunnybee @noisyfreakpersonlover @nightmarejim @schuyleryette @withjust-a-bite @statictay @muraae @harmonyofstars @cosmic-frapuccino @jmweezy (tags are open)

[basicsofislam]

ISLAM 101: Creation: Part 8

Why does one creature’s life depend on the death of another?

Just as the day replaces night, spring follows winter, and autumn takes the place of summer, death follows life. The Creator, Who governs everything, does nothing in vain. He creates the most beautiful and intricate beings out of the lowest, seemingly unpromising, materials. Since it is the very nature of His creation to bestow freshness and novelty continually upon His creation, and since He sets on and motivates everything to mature and develop, risings and settings necessarily succeed each in this world.

Before going further into the subject, let’s define death.

Death is not final exhaustion of nature, an annihilation that operates of itself, or a total extinction into a void. Rather, it is a transformation, a change of place, state, and dimension; a completion of service, a release from its burden, to attain peace and ease. For every living thing, it is a sort of retreat or transition to its own essence and truth. For this reason, death is as desirable as life. It is as pleasing as meeting friends, and a blessing as great as acquiring immortality.

Materialists who do not grasp death’s meaning and truth always see it as horrifying and so compose gloomy odes to it. All such people have seen and felt the same things about death, and have made the same complaints about it.

Since death is a separation from life and living, it affects our minds and those sentiments that make us human. It is impossible to deny such an influence, to silence the heart in the face of death. Death arouses considerable tumult in our hearts and minds, though it may be short-lived. Belief in the Resurrection causes all such sorrows to be forgotten, for it is like presenting a kingdom to a person who has lost everything or assuring a person about to be hanged of eternal life and happiness.

According to those who understand the real meaning of death, death is no more than a release from service, a change of abode, and a journey to where most of one’s friends have already gone. Those who do not understand this see only its horrifying surface meaning: death as an executioner, a gallows, a bottomless pit, a dark passage into the void.

When believers begin to experience death, the beauties and rewards of Heaven begin to appear before them. When unbelievers, who are deprived of this pleasure of faith, think of death, they begin to feel the torment and fire of Hell that they nurture within their conscience. Their suffering is not just limited to their own feelings, for in their hearts they also feel the grief and suffering of all those with whom they share interests, pleasures, and concerns. Their suffering and loss of happiness increase the burden of grief for whoever regards death as a final end.

Believers consider death a release from service and life’s burdens and hardships and know that everything continues to exist in other realms (in its identity as form and idea). Thus, they view death as an advancement, a perfection, an acquisition of a higher essence and nature. Since death carries the fruit of eternal existence and bliss, it is also a great blessing and a Divine gift.

However, every advancement and perfecting, every blessing and acquisition of it, must pass through preparatory stages: close examination, molding and purifying. Spiritual progress and the subsequent advancement to higher levels come only through such trials and purifications. For example, crude ores perish in the purifying furnace before they yield the pure metal. Until the ores are processed in this way, they continue to exist in soil and rock, without the metal ever being tested and then presented in its true form.

If we accept this analogy, we can understand that while death appears to be a cessation, a passing into extinction or nothingness, in reality, it is passing into a higher, more elevated mode of being. When every non-sentient particle appears to move with an eager animation toward its apparent extinction, it actually is running toward the perfection prescribed for it. When oxygen and hydrogen atoms combine, they die in their separate identities only to be reborn as water, which is essential to the vitality of all living forms. Thus we can say that death is a changing of place and form, not an end or extinction. From the tiniest particles to the greatest compounds within the universe, all changes, transformations, and decompositions result in what is most beautiful, fresh, and excellent. That is why we define death as the movement of beings to a higher mode rather than as their extinction.

In another respect, death is the time when one being resigns and hands over its affairs to its successor(s). This is enacted in the sight of Him Who has sovereignty and dominion over all things. Each creature is charged with presenting itself in a unique parade before the presence of the One Who gave it existence. Just before its parade is over, and the picture or record of it made and stored, the parade of its successor(s) begins, which relieves the parade ground of sameness and refreshes the scene with new and active beings. Each being acted out its role and moves aside so that others may appear, act out their roles, and show their skills. The freshness, liveliness, beauty, and excellent diversity is seen in creation is the result of these comings and goings.

Death also may be understood as silent advice, in the sense that nothing is self-existent. In other words, nothing can survive by itself or has permanence. A fading and ultimately dead light indicates a source of light that is unfailing and eternal. For those who grieve and complain about the transience and perishing of all things, this is a good lesson on how to mature and attain true happiness. Whatever or whoever captivates our hearts will leave us one day, which causes us to yearn for an eternal being to love and to be loved by. In our transient world, such a yearning is the first stage of moving toward or attaining eternity. Death is the mysterious uplifter that raises people to that dignity.

Given this, we can liken death to a healing hand, one that nurses to full health, that hurts us only as a doctor would hurt us: by giving a necessary inoculation or lancing, rather than a grim sword or sickle laying everything to waste. Considering death as a merely utilitarian way of making room for new generations is mistaken, for death is not absolute annihilation or extinction. Rather, what disappears does so only from within the horizons of our limited understanding, for the identity of every particular (as form and idea) continues to exist in our memories, in the Preserved Record, and in God’s all-encompassing knowledge. They also exist in different dimensions and in realms beyond those dimensions, beyond corporeal understanding. For example, seeds and flowers bloom and die, but their identity as form and idea continues in the many seeds and flowers that will bloom after them.

Consider the subject from another angle. If there were no death, would we not live in a hell of unrelieved terror as we faced an endless existence without a break or relief? How could we measure the worth or value of anyone or anything, conserve or concentrate our energy, make or carry out an intention, if time was limitless? If such a situation existed, those who now mourn the fact of transience and death would mourn their absence. Moreover, we would not experience creation’s inexhaustible variety, with all the prompts and images it gives to the human mind of beauty, freshness, and loss with renewability. How, in the absence of such a panorama of novelty within stability, could the human mind be inspired to contemplate that which lies beyond and sustains the visible world? How could we seek and worship the One who creates and provides for the whole.

Let’s deal with the subject from a different angle. If everything depended on life instead of death if beings continued to live through calamities, and if all events and life followed one direction forever, what could have happened? What could happen mean?

Basing ourselves on what we said earlier, death contains blessing and wisdom. Life without death would be such an absurdity and horrible disaster that, if such a situation could be fully described, people would cry and mourn about staying alive instead of dying.

If nothing died, neither a fly nor a human being could have lived in the early ages of this world, for ants and varieties of ivy would have invaded and occupied the entire planet. Nothing else could have survived or thrived. And later on, if no ant or ivy ever died, there would have been thick layers of them covering the Earth. As such statements cannot be disputed, we can see what a great blessing death is, and the great wisdom in allowing dead things to decompose.

How much of the Earth’s enthralling beauty and splendor could be seen with such a huge number of ivy plants and ants? What would this world, created to exhibit the splendor and magnificence of His art, be if such a situation prevailed? How could we witness the power, might, knowledge, and grace of the Creator and Owner of this world?

The absence of death also would give rise to another problem: The magnificent wisdom and order in the rule of this universe show that nothing in it was created in vain. The Absolute Owner of the physical and spiritual domains creates the most worthwhile things out of what may appear to us the most worthless, making the valueless into the priceless. New and excellent creations are engendered from the cells serving as bodily forms for His servants, especially those making up the human souls that God has recalled and holds in His realms. If the bodies, which He valued so highly that He “breathed” human souls in them, were allowed to decompose into nothing, the Creator’s Omniscient Wisdom would be contradicted. Any such notion is absolutely contrary to His Divine Honor, and so cannot be entertained.

In conclusion, all of creation, its balance, and order, the control, and administration by which its complex harmonies are sustained, is so magnificent that it inspires all people whose hearts and minds are open to the beauty and pleasure around them. The dividing, combining, and moving of atoms; the growth of plants and trees; the gushing of rivers to the sea; the oceans’ expanse, grandeur, and incalculable power; the evaporation of saltwater and its return as life-giving rain—everything races ardently from one stage to another, higher and better.

[unwarrantedopinions-blog1]

“NINE” by Blink-182

So for my first “official” blog post, I figured I’d write about something near and dear to my heart. My favorite band, Blink-182, released their new album “NINE” 09/20/2019. As soon as I heard it, it sparked some sort of energy and interest in me to blog a review. It started out as a journal, but with some encouragement and motivation from my friends, I was able to pen a full review and now, post it. So here it is, my complete review of the album “NINE” as I heard it for the first time, with additional information added with subsequent play throughs.

1. The First Time - 2:27

Upbeat, loud drums, distant yelling. Cherish your first times for any occasion. Memories about taking risks, taking chances. What are you going to remember when you’re old?: the memories you made taking risks or the times you played it safe? Take risks, try new things, experience life. Still wishing Tom DeLonge was back, but his replacement, Matt Skiba (also the frontman of rock band Alkaline Trio), is fitting in perfectly fine with Mark and Travis.

Final: 8/10.

2. Happy Days - 2:59

Sounds very reminiscent of “Stay Together For The Kids”. A song about being positive when you don’t know what positive even is, don’t know what’s going on, don’t know what your next step is. “I want to feel happy days”. Memories triggering sadness, not doing enough, feeling like you aren’t enough. Yet, at the same time, still being content in your life. Still pushing, still trying, still working to achieve your true happiness. It’s like you can acknowledge there is room for change, but you don’t know if you can yet. It’s a first step, though, and sometimes that’s all it takes for everything to fall into place.

Final: 9/10

3. Heaven - 3:17

First thought: existential crisis. Impulsive actions. Self destruction. From good to bad, not getting into Heaven based off of prior actions. Struggling to better, but falling short due to lack of effort. A feeling of being forgotten, left behind, not fitting in because of your choices. “We’re lost in our ways, nothing left to say” .. “we’re stuck in our ways, I’ve got so much to say”. Acknowledging the need to change, but not actually changing.

Final: 7/10

4. Darkside - 3:01

Observing a mysterious, unknown girl. I get an 80’s vibe from this song. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Following someone into the unknown for a new journey, to a new world, an unknown place. New experiences. Sounds kinda synthy at the bridge. The fading of the loud voices make it sound more like a yell.

Final: 7/10

5. Blame It On My Youth - 3:06

Airy sound, bass comes in, Mark’s angel voice. Growing up in the past vs growing up today. Apologizing for differences in their youth vs how they are in adulthood, but ultimately saying to blame it on how they were raised. We are in a completely different time now than what they were when they were growing up. “I don’t need an excuse”. What was socially accepted then ( ) vs now (maybe 2016 on), they are two completely different time frames and have two completely different socially acceptable norms.

Final: 7/10

6. Generational Divide - 0:49

Heavy drums. Work in progress adjusting to life before and life after? This is probably the most confusing bit in the whole album. The rating is more for sound than message since it was so short and I didn’t get much out of it.

Final: 8/10

7. Run Away - 2:28

Sounds very two albums ago. Childish rebellion, teen angst vibes. Possibly a song about blaming others for your actions but still getting left with the responsibility. Running away from your problems, but hoping someone holds you down to own up to them. Definite “Neighborhoods” vibes based off of the sound alone. Another great Blink album.

Final: 7/10

8. Black Rain - 2:46

Starts slow with Skiba vocals, then the pace picks up and it’s loud singing by Mark. Chorus comes back in and is slow, lighter than during Mark’s part. A song about struggling with loss. Mark’s voice seems far away when listening through a phone or TV speaker, different when you’re wearing headphones/earbuds/etc. “Tragedy erased my memory and now all I see is this black rain. Tragedy, you too my everything.” Sound is actually kinda shit in conjunction with their voices.

Final: 6/10

9. I Really Wish I Hated You - 3:11

This song hit hard, it’s very relatable. “Cuz I really don’t like myself without you, every song I sing is still about you. Save me from myself the way you used to, cuz I really don’t like myself without you. I really wish I hated you right now. Won’t you say something?” Being broken with someone you clearly love, not knowing what to do without them, unable to cope with them being gone. A longing for someone you wish you could have because you gave them your all, you tried your hardest, but love being too strong to stay. Stuck in the past, thinking, reminiscing. Hard to let go of someone you care about, even though you know they are better off without you. You start to feel like a burden and it doesn’t even get better. “I hate the way you’re better off” .. basically letting them go because you know it’s the less selfish thing to do if it means they’re happy. You can’t keep someone for your own benefit.

Final: 10/10

10. Pin the Grenade - 2:59

Another song about losing someone, life changing and going on without them. Not being able to let go, t hint to drag it out as long as possible. Not worth losing someone compared to being dead. “Just another night before I’m lost and all alone. If you’re gonna kill me, baby, please just do it slow” .. dragging out the torture of being killed to get more time with that person you love.

Final: 9/10

11. No Heart To Speak Of - 3:40

Remembering a life you had before, losing someone, being heartbroken over the memories you keep thinking about. There’s nothing left for you here. “Laying on the bedroom floor, hanging on the words you said before” .. “Dying on the bathroom floor, thinking of the life we had before”. When you’re so heartbroken, is it worth staying alive when you don’t have that person who made you whole? The sound overall is good, reminds me of “Ocean Avenue” by Yellowcard based off the sound alone. I love the range of Skiba’s voice, from soft and lull to loud and emotional, almost strained.

Final: 9.5/10

12. Ransom - 1:25

“Say the word and I’ll be there”. Sounds kinda trappy. Like SoundCloud trappy. Two opposites attracting, becoming one. A guy obsessed with a girl, uprooting his life to be with her across the country. Trapped. Ransom.

Final: 7/10

13. On Some Emo Sh** - 3:10

Missing someone so much that your current life is put on hold. You remember things so vividly that it interrupts your current life. Questioning why you exist without that person who made your existence seem painless, easy, worthwhile. Memories, flashbacks, stories, all about someone you still love. “These feelings pound in my chest, maybe I am better off dead.” Still leaving yourself 100% open for someone you love that takes advantage of your soft spot for them. Is it happiness you’re after? Or is it the fear of being alone? Is there a sliver of hope left that things will fall back together eventually or are you just torturing yourself holding onto that hope?

Final: 8/10

14. Hungover You - 2:59

Fuck this song, first of all. Second, I absolutely love it. Super relatable for someone, anyone, that has had their heart broken. Maybe even for people who have broken hearts. If you’ve broken a heart, does this open your eyes to the feelings you left your significant other with after you were gone? The overall sound, the breakdown on the chorus, and the way Hoppus and Skiba harmonize gives me chills. The only song that I found myself screaming along to while I was driving. Can’t get over someone, they disappeared from your life. “It was just one time, one time. Started turning into two times, a few times”. “It feels like last night, you come over. And now I wake up, and you’re nowhere.” Is this even real? Is this a drunk hallucination? How long has this person been gone that he can say he’s “still hungover you”? Shouts out to Travis Barker on the drums, this one is one of my favorites because of the work he puts in with the sound.

Final: 10/10

15. Remember to Forget Me - 3:30

Sounds like a song that represents giving someone your all, being broken into tiny pieces in the process, and then all those tiny pieces being scattered. Sounds like some soft dubs in the second verse. Not sure of how to exist on your own without your person. Lack of ability to be independent. Kind of sounds like you want someone to get rid of every thought, memory, trace of you when they forget you. Don’t even think about me in the future. Erase your memory.

Final: 8/10

FINAL THOUGHTS

Well, I obviously fucking love Blink-182. I was always a little skeptical about Matt Skiba taking over for Tom DeLonge, but at the same time, I was never a fan of Angels and Airwaves (Tom’s other project), so I feel like it could be a reasonable compromise. Personally, the lack of vibe balance throws me off a little. You start out super happy, upbeat, encouraging, and then the whole album takes a turn into missing someone, losing someone, feeling completely lost without someone. And honestly? I fucking felt that shit. You can only be so positive when you feel like you’d be better off dead. The last, like, 12 months of my life have been absolutely chaotic and I’ve lost so many people from friends, fuck buddies, boyfriends, family members, wherever it is, I’ve probably lost it. I’ve made a lot of big life changes and shit so this album actually kind of hit me hard. Only two 10/10 songs, but a lot of 9s to back it up. The two 10/10s (“I Really Wish I Hated You” and “Hungover You”) made my “Top Songs To Scream Along To” playlist for when I’m driving and feel hyper, bummed, emo, etc.

I’m not entirely sure what I expected from NINE, but I don’t think that I was necessarily disappointed either. I like the sounds, I like the progress, all the guys are doing great together. They just did a tour with Neck Deep and Lil Wayne, including a few shows guest starring my favorite band All Time Low out in Ohio. It was a really fun album to review. I’ve listened to it all the way through a handful of times, writing over them between two instances and the rest just trying to listen without pressuring myself to make something out of it, but instead just to vibe and understand.

The big difference with this album is that it’s so serious. This Blink album is honestly so mature, there’s no dick jokes or short interludes about fucking someone’s mom. It’s super foreign territory for Blink to delve into, but I respect the change and enjoyed the album just the same without the jokes and silly antics. Another thing with this album is that I heard a lot of throwback sounds and I actually fucked with it heavy. Hearing an old song’s tune in a different way actually made the album kind of nostalgic. The beginning of “The First Time” has big time “Feeling This” (Blink-182 self title, 2003) vibes. On top of that, “Hungover You”, (yes, I’m obsessing over every aspect of this song), has BIIIIG “Snake Charmer” (Neighborhoods, 2011) sounds with the maraca/salt sounds. Almost every song on this album, if not for sure every album, has throwback sounds in a different pitch, frequency, order, etc. and I’m actually really digging it. The synthy sound from “Ransom“ is a dead ringer for the beginning of “Love Is Dangerous” (Neighborhoods, 2011), which is the last album that featured founding member Tom DeLonge. The sound itself isn’t spot on, but the concept of the sound is what is familiar. I don’t know if this was intentional, but regardless, it’s an interesting take on the new sound playing off the old sound.

So, what did you think of the album? Did you hear any other similarities between albums or notice any big differences between old Blink and seemingly new Blink? Comment down below what you think and suggest some new albums that would be worth a review! There you have it, an opinion nobody wanted, but y’all are getting it anyway.

[mochenle]

Sonder | Chenle

sonder- the realization that every person around you is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

genre: slight angst, fluff

word count: 2,556

~

another day, another dollar. except you’re broke. and unemployed. and that’s the harsh truth. as a struggling honors student, you had many priorities, and with these priorities come many, many, many hardships. you knew you couldn’t get a job. of course you didn’t have enough experience for working in retail. of course you weren’t suitable for the job. of course. you were also aware that time wasn’t on your side since school was a thing that existed. homework was a bitch. you knew several people that could back you on that statement. taking extra classes in the evening  outside of school also consumed most of your time.

even though you thought that doing all these things were being extra or another reason you have no sleep schedule, you still felt the need to do every single one of those tasks. not only because you need to do the best you can, but also because you don’t think you could ever imagine being a disappointment to your family. not again. you could never forget the look on their faces the day you brought a not-so-great test score home. it seemed as if your parents forgot your existence at home for a good week. the message came across quite clearly that they wanted you to be the best at school and although it was harsh, they believed it was for your own good. they had to make sure you were good enough.

though sometimes even you doubted your capabilities.

there were many times where you stayed up til the break of dawn working and studying to make sure everything is perfect. it had to be perfect. luckily you have two faithful brothers to sick by your side in time of need. even if it was 3 a.m. and you all had school in a few hours. they always made time for you.

memories of you childhood flooded your mind when you thought of your brothers. when you were just a toddler they would always pretend to be your superheroes and save you from the bullies on the blacktop. always save you a spot on the swing or see-saw. always have your back when your parents had to yell at you. always there when you were crying in your room afterwards. always.

you had to stop yourself from tearing up at the moment. you were in a public area. what kind of weird looks would people send you?

you continued on your journey to the subway from that dreadful interview. what would your parents say this time? you slowed your pace slightly not wanting to know the results any sooner. this gave you the time to take in the scenery around you. the city was bustling with life and people trying to get places. skyscrapers were towering over you and seemed to mingle with the clouds up above.  

you loved the city for this. there was always so much going on at once, so many pieces to the puzzle. you hope that one day you could explore the whole city and all it’s little parts. but you didn’t have time for that. at least not at the moment.

you finally reach the subway which is surprisingly not as busy at this time. in the few instances where you had to ride the subway, you usually had to squeeze through a crowd of people just to find a safe spot to stand without falling over. this time, you quickly found a seat next near the back of the car.

a few more people boarded the subway before it took off. this was a good time for you to sit back, relax, and listen to some music. instinctively, you pull out your phone and your earbuds. of course they’re a tangled mess right now. when were they not?  you sigh as you tug at the knots on the wires. this’ll take a while.

you finally undid the last knot and you were about to put in your earbuds and play some music, until you heard something. someone to be exact. someone was singing? that voice sounded like that of an angel. if this was what heaven sounded like, you would certainly start trying a little harder.

you turned your head to where the sound was coming from. it was a boy. his voice matched the tune to his ukulele perfectly. a match made in heaven, one would say.

the boy himself looked glorious. he had soft hands that plucked and strummed each string with such gentle sharpness. his focus was fixed on making sure he hit every beat perfectly, even he failed on some occasions. your eyes then traveled to the outfit he was wearing. his attire was surely, interesting, but he looked cute nonetheless. he was wearing simple blue jeans and an orange sweater adorned with black and white stripes that stretched across his abdomen. near the collar the word ‘pepperoni’ was spelled out in black letters. why pepperoni? the world may never know.

his hair was dyed blonde and you weren’t gonna lie, it looked super fluffy and for some weird reason you felt the need to touch it. but that’s besides the point. the ends of his blonde locks fell right above his eyelashes. oh his eyes. his eyes seemed as if they held a thousand stars. every time he would accidentally pluck the wrong string, or play the wrong chord, his face would morph into a sheepish smile and a light pink hue would flush across his cheeks. that smile. that smile would never fail to make your heart skip a beat. the way his eyes disappeared into slits left butterflies fluttering around your chest. you wanted to know more about this mystery angel.

when his final song was over, there were a few people applauding and some put their spare change in the baseball cap seated right in front of him. there were some small complements here and there and in exchange he threw back a few thanks. you felt the need to give him the rest of your cash that was left over from the lunch you bought earlier. your parents wouldn’t be too pleased about you spending their money on pointless things like this, but you liked to consider yourself a fine patron of the arts at that moment. besides, they weren’t here right now and how else were you going to start a conversation with him?

you took a quick glance at the window before approaching the boy. you won’t be home for a while. for once you’re actually quite pleased about your house being such a distance away from the city.

you walk up to him, pulling out your wallet, dropping it in the process. idiot. the one time you get the chance to do something you don’t want to regret, you mess it up. as you reach down to retrieve your wallet, another hand makes contact with yours. you hastily retract your hand back at the sudden contact and look up to see the culprit. no way. this is not happening.

“hey, i think you dropped this.”

your eyes met his and your face was immediately painted a deep crimson shade. all knowledge of social interaction was lost as you were greeted with the bright smile on his face.

“o-oh, thanks.”

“no problem!”

you thought his singing voice was nice, but when he spoke to you he seemed even cuter. his voice was bubbly and filled with animation, making you sound even more awkward than usual. talking to him was going to be harder than you initially thought.

after taking the wallet, you stood there fumbling with the zipper and shifting from one foot to the other as you tried to think of something to say. just give him your money dumbass, that’s the reason you came over here in the first place! you opened your mouth to say something, but were cut off by the boy in front of you.

he must’ve sensed your uncertainty since he started speaking for you.

“i really like your wallet. blue is my favorite color! i think it’s really nice.”

quick, think of something to say. anything!

“you can have it!”

you’re joking. that’s the best thing you can come up with? at least you’ll finally get the chance to give him your money.

as if you couldn’t feel any more embarrassed. he started laughing. laughing. you really screwed yourself over. you say one wrong thing and someone is already laughing at your existence. you really needed the subway to go faster now.

“thanks for the offer, but i think i’ve reached my goal for today. and i wouldn’t want to take such a nice wallet off someone’s hands. you’re really cute when you get all embarrassed like that. my name’s Chenle by the way. what’s yours?”

cute? he thought you were cute? has he looked in the mirror before? you would’ve exploded right then and there, but you needed to keep your composure. now is not the time to mess up an opportunity on making a potential friend. especially not Chenle.

“i’m y/n, nice to meet you.”

if there was one thing you learned about Chenle, it was that he sure did talk a lot, but you didn’t mind since you weren’t much of a speaker yourself. he did all the talking that you didn’t feel like doing. not to mention, the things he talks about were quite interesting. he was an open book. he told lots of stories about his friends and the adventures they go on. he calls them the dreamies since he’s dreamed of having friends of like them. as if he couldn’t get any cuter.

he told the story of how he and his friend Jisung were banned from a convenience store once because he was screaming so loudly. he and this Jisung seem to have quite a history together. after laughing for quite some time at the thought of the two running away from the clerk, you decided to ask him something for a change.

“do you always sing on the subway here? you must get change easily since your voice is so nice.”

his expression dropped slightly, but he kept the smile exactly where it was. you suddenly regret asking him that.

“thanks, i just started singing here today. i actually come from quite a wealthy family, but my parents weren’t too fond of me becoming a singer, so i moved in with my sister. gotta make cash somehow.”

you never would’ve thought that would come out of his mouth. you wondered why he would even share that information with someone he just met. though this was surprising to you, nothing shocked you more than how similar his life seemed to yours. you looked at all the people sitting on the subway around you and started to think of how their lives probably reflected some form of yours as well.

you usually weren’t very comfortable about sharing family matters, but it didn’t feel fair that Chenle did and you didn’t. sure he was an open book, but where’s the harm in getting out of your comfort zone once in a while?

“i usually don’t talk about these kinds of things unless i’m talking to my brothers, but i’ll spill anyways. i don’t have the closest relationship to my parents either. i tried to get a job today to maybe impress them for once, but i guess i wasn’t the right person for the job.”

you felt so vulnerable at that moment. like you had just shared classified information that no one was allowed to have access to. you had literally just met Chenle and now you were here talking about your life problems like it was nothing. you’ve done a lot of questionable things today, but this so far has been the most absurd. what would Chenle say?

Chenle has said many shocking things to you today, but what he said next caught you off guard.

“well, i think you’re pretty great. even if we did just meet today. that was really nice of you to tell me that. if i was the manager, i would higher you in an instant! you’re probably a super genius that knows how to do everything right. you’d make the perfect employee of the month for like ever.”

he sure did know how to make your heart flutter. talking to Chenle made you feel like you were the most important person in the world. that was a feeling only your two brothers were capable of inflicting upon you. that only pulled you to learn even more about him.

your subway conversations continued like that for a while. both of you taking turns in telling each other a little bit about yourself, the occasional story that Chenle felt the need to tell, and you laughing right after. you knew that he was not a person you wanted to leave behind. not anytime soon.

“when i grow up i want to be a singer. i feel most like myself when i’m singing. how about you? what are you drawn to?”

“i’m not quite sure. i guess i don’t feel like myself in anything i’m doing right now. except being here with you.”

although you stated that last part under your breath, Chenle still managed to hear you. just knowing that he was capable of having that effect on someone made him feel like he was standing on top of the world.

“well, i guess it’s my job to help you find your calling. after all, you make me feel the same way.”

the both of you were left flustered the rest of the ride to your stop.

coincidentally, you got off at the same stop and were able to tell a few more stories before you parted ways. the two of you departed the subway and exited the station together. you really, really did not want to leave Chenle yet. it was a bittersweet goodbye; you couldn’t find it in you to stop talking to him, but you knew you’d see him again soon.

“it was really nice meeting you Chenle, hope to see you again soon.”

“i could say the same thing for myself. we’ll definitely see each other more often. i still have to help you find your calling! here’s my number, we have to stay in touch so we can be best buds! i’ll be sure to tell the dreamies about you. maybe i’ll introduce you sometime, if that’s okay with you.”

“of course! i’ll be sure to text you when you become famous. i’ll be your biggest fan and tell you about how great you were on stage.”

you both shared one last chuckle before you bid your last goodbyes, went opposite paths and walked further and further away from the station. the rest of the walk home, you couldn’t help but think about the new memories you had made that day.

you arrived at your house to find your parents slightly irritated at your tardiness and your brothers ready to welcome you with a hug. you would usually be quite affected by your parents frustration, but this day was different, and you didn’t regret it one bit. after your encounter with Chenle, you made sure of one thing:

you were definitely going to ride the subway more often.

~

fin

[ameliathecatto]

Spourting Gladiolus

"Hyphotecial question. Will you kill me by the end of it?"

The tale of a Goddess who was crowned the title, 'Guardian Goddess' and 'Queen of All Gods' going on a mission. From a title like those, you would expect extreme efficiency correct?

Unfortunately, things don't turn out the way anyone wanted.

The mission was to take out 5 cults, each with their own reasons of having to be taken out. However, she let one of them live on after a fatal encounter.

Why had she done so? Who was this man? Was there anything beyond her mission?

"Life sure is cruel, leaving live up in my hands once again."

After all, to her this was simply a matter of fate.

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

Chapter 2.1

word count: 2.7k

He could feel death’s hand creeping into the depths of his soul.

His hand extended as the haze spread to their surroundings, causing the streets to be covered in it. Amelia’s smirk remained and she took a step forward. It covered up his tracks as he moved to attempt another attack. 

He ran through it without much trouble as he reached his intended spot.

The haze caused him to look like someone else, making good of this opportunity to strike Amelia from behind. His dagger slicing through it with a force that dragged the wind with it. She didn’t turn around to meet him which made him think that his sneak attack was going to hurt her.

However, his strike was met with a gun to the head.

‘Tch’ she clicked her tongue when she noticed who the person he is disguising, Aeon. ‘I swear to heaven that fucking hair of his stands out too much.’ she thought as she coldly stared at him. The trigger being pulled was heard by them both. He widens his eyes in fear while Amelia maintains her demeanour. 

‘BANG!’ the gunshot heard by many outside of that area.

He jumped away from the shot, dodging it with a panicked expression. His breathing staggered as the bullet missed him and hit something else instead. It had helped him to conceal his presence enough that he was standing in a different spot than the one she saw. The adrenaline started to die down as the immediate fear set in.

“What makes you think that this shit excuse of a fog can hide you from me?” Her tone blends in with the malice atmosphere.

He formed some concentrated magic around him and fired it at her. He could hear it hit the ground, one by one. He took another step back and started to barrage her with wave after wave of haze bullets. 

But, none of them hit her once.

He's starting to feel the pressure being placed on his shoulders. She points her sniper rifle at the attacker, having to close her eyes to feel where he is. He took the chance and rushed ahead, planning to make a curved line towards her if she fired a shot.

He knew that it was a desperate move, moving directly at her is a huge risk. He was willing to take it no matter how heavily the odds were stacked against his favour. If he had to do something heroic in the name of his cult, then let it be slicing the Guardian Goddess. He was mentally prepared to do so once it can be heard.

But that chance didn’t come.

The absence of it fuels that overgrowing fear into depths that he can no longer control. His body trembling as his legs inches closer to where she was standing. He looked around trying to figure out where she went as his hand clutched on his dagger. That unease and anxiety started to make him hear thoughts from his head.

That silence was interrupted when he heard metal dropping to the ground.

He had a hunch that Amelia was waiting to attack him when he was being distracted. He didn’t know how long he stood there with his thoughts filling the space, he should have known. His eyes glanced down to his right shoulder.

“It does seem like you’re just like everyone else. Only big talk and nothing else.”

His arm was on the ground with a pool of blood forming below it. To him, it symbolised that he was going to die to her blade. The blade reflects that dread in his gaze with his eyes forming up tears.

For reasons, he couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“I didn’t expect much from you. And I was correct. You do completely crumble under pressure.”

Amelia’s scabbard was on her side with her sword still sheathed. She could kill him right there and there yet she chose not to. Her hand extends to point in a general direction in front of him, he understood what she meant but it’s not as simple.

Her sword is replaced with her rifle, “If you made it out of the haze area, I’ll let you go alive. That is of course if you manage to outrun me.”

She reloaded her gun as he contemplated on his options as Amelia says again, “If you don’t want to, then you can take a gunshot to the head and die right now.”

The abysmal chance of living, or giving up and dying to it.

Both options are equally shit yet he couldn’t make up his mind about it. His shoulder continued to bother his thoughts as his body started to deteriorate the more he bled out. She points it to the back of his head, her finger ready to pull the trigger.

“Decide now, or I’ll decide for you.”

His legs carried themselves as he ran as fast as he could. She stood there, placing it behind her back. She started to count from one to sixty as a handicap, letting him run as far as he can in that limited amount of time.

The haze started to contract on itself as the area of it got smaller and smaller the more he ran. His legs couldn’t take him as far as he wished, only being able to run so far before they gave up. He couldn’t concentrate on its active ability to hide him away from her with his mana dwindling with his energy. 

He hears footsteps inching closer to him, suddenly going quiet again.

He noticed where she was once he looked up, seeing her on the top of a building. He wondered how he got up there so fast as his legs finally gave up. His vision was going blurry once the blood loss got to him, he stood still and closed his eyes.

“Too bad you had no chance in outrunning me at all.” She said while pulling the trigger.

A bullet hit the ground in front of him. He thought he was safe and decided to run over it, which happened to be a bad idea. The shell exploded and a burst of magic came out of it, covering the area around them in a huge block of ice, one that stood out to the authorities at the scene.

She sighed as the ice started crumbling down, “Having another game of chess with your leader is much more fun than having this chase.”

The rifle disappeared from her hand as she jumped off the roof to grab what remained. His body and blood had been cleaned up by the ice, what remained is the dagger. She went to pick it up with the sound of people gearing up on the back.

“I guess I could use this as an indicator, or just a memorabilia when I see him again.”

Her head turned to see the authorities running past with their protective gear fully on. They ran past her like how he walked through the crowd earlier. The dagger disappears as she turns around to face the people passing by.

“What…” Their stunned tone tells it all.

Her head tilted up slightly when she spoke, “Besides that, I removed the body with the ice, nothing much happened to the area. I made sure to not cause too much destruction just for that money shot.” 

“THAT FUCK.” Someone yelled in frustration.

“Now there’s the money shot~” She chuckles yet no one can hear her.

She walked away from the scene, everyone stood in shock. They weren’t sure what had happened as every evidence was erased, even the buildings remained untouched. Only one person knew what happened and fuming at the thought that they couldn’t do anything yet again.

“The living and the dead are on different playing fields after all. We can clean up everything much easier than you guys ever will.” She laughed at them.

The police crew had to calm down the crowd and their men as they couldn’t believe their eyes.  They thought that there was someone dead with that large ice that covered all of the haze, but it looked like nothing happened at all.

They could only remain perplexed at the sight of it.

Concern ran through his head when he saw what was on the news in the afternoon. Andrata had pulled him awake in such an urgent matter, which was bashing his head with a pillow or two, that he thought something horrible happened.

He was correct, to a certain degree.

The headline was, ‘Mysterious incident gains notoriety on the web.’ The reporter read out the script in their hand, “The incident alarmed many of the bystanders. Although none was injured during the entire ordeal, there was nothing to show for the incident. There are only some videos on the web showing a standoff against a woman and a man…”

Aeon could only mutter out her name, “Amelia…” 

A loud knock on the door interrupted his line of thought. He deeply sighed and changed out of his sleepwear and donned his usual attire. There was another knock on the door with them growing ever more impatient.

“Are… you going to be alright…?” Andrata’s gold eyes could not hide her worried tone.

He smiled and patted her head, “I’m going to be fine.”

Her eyes lingered on him as he opened the door, greeting the annoyed policemen with a smile. 

“How may I help you?” 

“You’re under suspicion of conducting one count of manslaughter, please cooperate with us.” They brought out the handcuffs.

He extended his arm, letting them place the cuff on him and take him to the station. She stood still before he went, giving her a reassuring smile. She could only stare at his figure disappearing from the door frame.

“Sometimes I wonder…” 

Try as she might but she just could not finish her sentence, choosing to remain silent.

The entire drive to the police station was silent, so silent that Aeon had to start humming to make the trip feel less awkward. Something in their gaze told him that they were terrified, with them glancing back and forth while the other kept their eyes on the road. 

‘Another mess she left behind. But… it probably has something to do with them. I still don’t understand her decision to let him go. Although she had been letting the rest of them get away with things here and there. The thing is… why? I know that she’s been trying to piss The Council off but there are surely other ways than this one… right?’ Those feelings go through him as his eyes stared at the passing streets.

‘I… just want to wish them safe. At this point, it might be hard to even keep them secure.’ He sighed deeply as the car parked into its assigned lot.

His gaze saddened as he mumbles, “Why don’t you ever tell me anything.”

They looked confused at his expression but they insisted on doing their job. One opened the car door while the other kept an eye on him. He slowly got back to his more stern look as they guided him through the halls. 

He didn’t need any as he walked faster than both of them.

The interior of it looked like any other, with a reception at the front. It is two storey tall with beige and black painted on the walls. Aeon walked down the stairs leading to the basement area where some people are being kept in small jail cells.

They stopped in front of a steel door. He stood still waiting for them to open the door yet they never got to. A man with tied up blonde ponytail and wearing typical detective clothing swung the door outwards in their direction, luckily he didn’t hit anyone.

He and Aeon’s eyes meet each other as a frustrated feeling sets in stone.

“Both of you are dismissed. Also don’t worry about him, I can handle him by myself.” His tone frustrated yet oozing with confidence.

They left quickly as he stepped into the room and sat down on the chair. The room looked like any other interrogation room, he felt too at home in a place like this. He laid his hand on the table as he noticed the documents on the men’s side.

“Back here again aren’t we, Aeon?” His shift in tone caused Aeon to tense up.

Aeon shrugged, “We are, Eldel. You seem to be… agitated today.”

They suddenly went silent, causing the room to tense up significantly. Eldel grunted and shook his head, his gaze turning into a glare as he placed one of his hands on the table while the other on his forehead.

“Do you know how much I hate dealing with you two?” 

“I do, yes. You get angered so much quicker than you generally would.” 

He let out another grunt, “Good then. Don’t waste my time and tell me what happened.”

Aeon shook his head, “I wish. But even I don’t know what happened.”

“What.” He felt his glare burning themselves in him.

Eldel slowly goes from being agitated to being completely frustrated. He harshly slammed his hands on the table, causing some papers to fly up into the air. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

“YOU DARE TELL ME YOU KNOW NOTHING?!” He yelled.

Aeon calmly nodded, “I know nothing. She didn’t involve me.”

His face burned red as his fingers curled and eyes lowered. He stayed silent for a minute before a bitter chuckle came out of him. Aeon could not discern his chuckle, whether he was feeling defeated or betrayed.

“Please… calm down.” His voice came out pleading.

The room went silent again, Eldel had not raised up although his demeanour did lessen up considerably. Their eyes met again with Eldel's still disappointed gaze and his apologetic one. He raised his head and let out a loud sigh, calming himself down before talking again. 

"Can we have a recap of how you all work so I at least have something to give them?" His tone softened.

Aeon nodded, "Of course."

"We are, by layman's terms, ghosts. We have a physical body but it isn't a necessity for us to live. The living, meaning you guys, can't see us without a physical body. That's the reason why no one noticed it initially."

Eldel raised a brow, "Then how did he got recorded?"

"It's because of Amelia's status. I assumed you remember what she is." 

"I do, but it doesn't really make sense per say. Didn't you mention before that ours works differently than yours?" He scratched his head.

Aeon stayed quiet for a minute before talking, "She can force certain things onto people. That is one of them."

"And explain those certain things." His tone was demanding.

Aeon opened his mouth but could only let it gape as he ran over the options in his head. By the end, no words came out of it and he closed it.

"Explain why you couldn't tell me."

"It's confidential."

Eldel's eyes glared at him, "That's the best you can say?"

"Yes, that's the best I can say." Aeon closed his eyes.

'It's for the best that he doesn't know that much.' His thoughts when he said it.

Eldel looked like he gave up on asking anything else, he picked up the papers on the ground and neatly stacked them back. His lips remained the same as they had been throughout, incredibly bitter.

"I wonder on what day can you actually live up to that promise," he mumbled.

Aeon opened his eyes with a light sigh with Eldel purposely dodging his sight. They exchange no more words as he unlocked his handcuff with a key. He simply pointed at the door and let Aeon walk out by himself.

"I assume I'll see you soon from the progression of these events." He muttered.

Aeon's gaze lingered for moments longer before he left the basement. 

"I'm sure she's holding up fine without me. But… there is this lingering feeling of unrest in this place. I don't think I'm wrong about how things will go… It's just… for whose sake are we doing it for?" 

He walked out of the station and looked upwards. A sad yet comforting smile appeared on his face, letting another sigh out of his chest. 

"If it were Amelia. I think I would've been hit on the head by this point.'