#can you tell I have been confronted by the fleeting nature of mortality more often than usual lately. be honest.

[nocentis]

Black Arum ┆ Siegrain

Content warning: main character death, cannibalism, gore, toxic/unreliable narrator, highly canon divergent character portrayal. Read at your own risk. You will probably take psychic damage from this.

╳┆A lure was stuck in the soot between his lungs. Many times he'd felt the tug — enough that the wire fray had worn a rut where his ribs met — and many times he'd found her on the other end, reeling for remnants of him that no longer existed. She would aim to break him open, sift around in the cinders for those specks of him she wanted to confiscate, keep for herself, so that she could finally be rid of him. Once those flecks were washed and panned, the remains would reek like plough mud closure. For that reason he would come to her whole, every whit of ash accounted for.

A cherry little game they'd play. Her with flint and steel, eager to reignite that paltry spark of "good" that flickered freely for a lapse before he remembered himself. Him with tinder and kindling, letting it light only to call on the rain again. Her with just enough hope. Him with just enough time.

That resolve was so very compelling. More than her beauty, her candor, and even that glow he so loved to bask in — that luster he wanted to hold between his teeth and bury under his nails — more than that, her tenacity was a toothsome temptation, and he wasn't keen to deny himself anything.

So when he felt the pull, he caved to the beck and spooled the lisle. That day, the line seemed lighter, thinner, than it ever had. It should've been strong. Tensile. Instead it felt gossamer fine and just as frail, poised to tear at an ill touch, and he wasn’t exactly renowned for his gentle hands. Still, he gathered it with both palms and wrapped it proudly around himself like a ceremonial sash, grin scrawled across his face something devilish.

╳┆He found her lying in the shade beneath a long-lived magnolia, still and silent as she never was, with the color of her namesake spread around her head in halo streaks. Battle-torn, as she so often was, and yet uncannily... passive.

Anything he'd planned to say went out the airlock. Instead, he stood there with an anchor in his stomach, reaping the benefit of doubt.

Not a frown nor a sigh when he darkened her sanctum, only heavenward eyes tearless and unblinking and a resigned breath just short of peaceful. That worn tether waned phantom thin, light as helium, and the tension in his chest went slack.

There was no definite snap. No dramatic severing or ear-popping moment of clarity. Only the vague sense of loss so fresh a wound that denial was a numbing salve.

“Get up,” his voice a command, sandgrit against whetstone, thickened by an unnamed antigen.

The silence felt like mockery. A placid scene void of chittering fauna, clouds' drum, or even the most timid breeze. It wanted him to hear the absence of her breath and the stillness of her chest. It wanted him to hear the hollow. The empty. The nothing. Wanted it to resonate; to find the furthest reaches of his mind and clean them out until all that was left was this icy, clarifying silence.

He knew the end when he saw it. This was something much worse. It was robbery.

Her life wasn’t for the world to take. It was for him to hold in his hands. 

Something wet and pathetic slicked his tongue — some whiny, pleading thing — and it was stubborn as oil. The authority slid to the back of his throat and left him choking, “You are the indomitable Titania. You’ve laced fingers with Death time and again only to rise and slay and conquer, so get up.”

Her warmth was set to a slow drip, spilling from her in tired beads and seeping soundlessly into her chosen ground. Little whispers of her lost to greedy loam, sullied, never to be returned.

A waste of precious love. The sod won’t drink of her as he will. It will take of her and give back what? New “life” so fragile and fleeting? A feeble weed will take root, bloom its days few, and curl itself inside out? Pathetic. An insult to her legacy. An insult to the diamond-split sharp of her bladesoul.

His heart boiled over — popping, sticking, simmering sicksweet saccharine. It colored him cloying, flooded his mouth, and forced him to kneel at her altar.

"Please," he keened, hollow and morose, and his own pleading sickened him, “Say something.”

The sun trickled through the leaves like ichor, lighting up her black-blown eyes and the thin ring of honey surrounding them. Dim, distant, and dead as the moon.

His hand carved a path to her face, fingers featherlight against her fading flush. He brushed her bangs from her eyes and forced an unbroken breath through his quavering mouth. He traced each scar too faint to see and the parts of her skin their star kissed. Memorized the map of her face — each curve and crease, each fine hair, and every eyelash. He would carve out a space in his mind in her shape and fill it with the thousand sweet nothings he kept in his pockets.

He gathered her hand and threaded it with his own. When he opened his mouth, a rickety twine escaped from the deepest point of his chest, so he forced his jaws shut to keep the grief corked. He uncurled her fingers and pressed his cheek into her palm, trapping her there against his own scarred skin. His eyes fell shut as he breathed in this borrowed touch — this moment fated, stolen from him by this world's insatiable avarice.

He kissed her palm directly in the center; held it against his mouth and felt his own ruined breath echo back to him from the deepest grooves of her skin. Again, he begged, “Please, Erza.”

Of the armors innumerable now haunting this hallowed ground, this one least befit her. 

He revered Death. If there was a god, surely it was Death, he thought, for Death asks for nothing but life. The dead don’t know that they’re dead. They know a split second of euphoria and then a sharp, definite end. Isn’t that the work of a gracious god? One last stroke of color whether in peace or peril, and then eternal rest. Back to the dust you sprouted from.

But now he couldn’t see any of that beauty he often waxed poetic about. All he could see was change yet to come. All he could see was her, and he wanted her back.

He wanted her back, yet he knew better than anyone that there was no such thing as resurrection. While Death might be gracious, it was not generous, and it was not to be reasoned with.

The thought of her buried deep, bathed by the dark and abandoned to rot — it washed his mouth acid sour. It ate straight through his tongue and lingered in the roots of his teeth, burning, raging redhot in his jaws’ marrow.  A grave didn't suit her anymore than a pyre.

Soon she would be cold. Stiff. A feast for flies and their insatiable young. In the days to come, she would bubble and bloat and sallow. Her skin would loosen and slough off. The sun would bleach her bones. The meat of her would melt into oil and fat and bogspit. She would mix in with the soil, the groundwater, and this thankless magnolia would thrive.

It was tall, thick, with branches spread in all directions. The lowest of its limbs showed off the varied deep greens of its large waxy leaves, their undersides a chalky brown. A few white flowers bloomed, palm-shaped petals open in praise like they'd come to witness and worship. There was no question why she'd chosen to crawl here. It must've reminded her of home.

Despite its beauty, it was hardly worthy of her. Nothing in this ravenous world was. Her grave should be carved within his chest. There, he could keep her warm. He could host her in his veins. One day, they would wade the waters of woe together. Until then she could live under his skin.

He wouldn’t allow her to spoil. Wouldn’t place her gently into time’s whittlesome hands only to lose her peel by peel by rotting peel.

This world has taken much from you. Do not allow it to take her too.

A carnal ache etched itself into bone, a depth of passion he hadn't felt since he wrought for a false Heaven.

She is a fruit, ripe as a plum and twice the taste. Peel her open. There is a seed at her core. Plant it in your soot-field chest and watch her bloom anew.

What are these hands for if not this?

Flesh like sheets of silk. Muscle like rope. Blood like honey. Bone like an ivory trove. The splitting, the squelching, the straining, ripping, snapping; it burrowed marrow-deep and lingered there. Her chest peeled apart like jagged teeth, jaws croaking their rusted tune, and inside that redslick maw was the center of the universe.

The heart upon its throne, still as she, shielded by her precious lungs. It slid into his palm like it was always meant to be there. Raw, rich, and so very scarlet. Its sinews strained against his pull — those hollow vines that fed even the furthest parts of her — so he wrenched them free and draped himself in them like matchless finery.

Eat. Eat ‘til you’re sick. There’s a hole the size of her in the pit of your stomach. Eat until you fill it. 

What are these teeth for if not this?

Tough as leather; smooth as rubber. His teeth slid right off the rind and clicked together with nothing but metallic sheen between them. He gnashed at that ink-dripping muscle until he found a spot weak enough to tear apart. It tasted of rare meat and iron; a heady gore thick enough to drown in. He swallowed, gasped, and that first new breath felt like a blade.

The child inside him saw her split-open ribs as his cradle. He wanted to crawl inside, curl up, and die. He wanted to paint himself her color.

He lost his vision to the hot, angry wash. His own sobs were a distant sound, muffled by meat and blood and his own desperate fingers. He was numb in the mouth and in the shake of his hands, but he forced himself to eat, eat despite the choking, the gagging, the wet, weeping remorse.

Don’t you dare throw her up. Be grateful. Swallow and say thank you and finish what you’ve started.

He bit into his own palm, indistinguishable from her core, and he cried out in sour relief. His hands spread raw grief over his face, through his hair, and down his neck.

You’re no better than this starving world.

He curled into himself, hands clutching his own aching chest, and despite the cloudless sky, he called upon the rain.

[izayoi-hakuyu]

Vanitas no carte: A case study of the vanitas motif?

In this I want to examine how the vanitas motif is used in the manga “Vanitas no carte”. In other words: Is the main character just called Vanitas because it’s a cool name or is the manga embedded within a certain literary/artistic/cultural tradition? And is the connection to that tradition just the name of the main character (spoiler: it isn’t, at least in my option) or is the vanitas motif deeply interwoven within the narrative and its themes (spoiler: it is, at least in my option)?

Talking about spoilers: I have only read up to chapter 40, so this may be updated as I continue reading. On the other hand, there will be spoilers for the chapters up to chapter 40.

Note: I don’t know if something like this has been done before. If it has, I’m very sorry. This is actually my second step into the actual fandom and I’m lacking an overview. Also English is not my native language and it’s hard for me to articulate myself properly. I’m sorry if the topic of the vanitas motif within the manga has been discussed before and I’m sorry for any mistakes I make.

So what is vanitas as a motif?

“Vanitas” is latin for “vanity”. As a theme in literature it addresses the transience of all being.

These works of art associates with the vanitas motif show the futility of pleasure, and the certainty of death. Symbols of wealth and symbols of death are often arranged in a contrasting matter. Similar to “memento mori” (latin for “remember that you [have to] die”. Memento mori is a vanitas symbol itself and they are overlapping), it accentuates the inevitably of death. But instead of the death itself it emphasizes the vanity and transiency of the human life. Motifs connected to vanitas became especially popular during the baroque period due to religious and social upheavals and the experience of the Thirty Years' War (1618-1648) and several plague pandemics and the steady presence of destruction and death. On the other hand, social injustice rose due to the build of expensive castles by absolutist rulers.

The vanitas-motif not only criticizes the worldly glory and pleasure that is transient in nature. But vanitas also accentuated that the humans are powerlessly confronted with their own fate and have no control over their own life. This mindset originated in the traditional Christian belief that earthly pursuits and goods were believed to be transient and worthless. Furthermore, people would be expected to accept their fate that would be inflicted by God. While everything earthly would be eventually in vain, God would be eternal.

The paintings under the term “vanitas still lifes” are the most well-known incarnation of the vanitas motif, but it has been also incorporated as a motif not only in painting, but in poetry (for example in the works of the German baroque poet Andreas Gryphius. And I kid you not, he wrote an ode called “Vanitas! Vanitatum Vanitas!”) and other forms of literature. Within the vanitas motif developed a whole collection of symbols associated with it. These are also presented in this manga.

Vanitas symbols in Vanitas no Carte

Hourglass

The hourglass that takes form in Vanitas’ earring is a classical symbol of vanitas. The flowing sand symbolizes the passing of lifetime and mortality. A symbol of the passing of time and the eventual death is also expressed in the gearwheel ornaments on the “Book of Vanitas”.

Skull

The cover of the first volume shows Vanitas in front of a picture frame made of golden skulls. Skulls are symbols of vanitas and memento mori. They are reminder of death and human transience. One of the skulls on the cover is wearing with a crown, which alludes to the typical form of presentation of the vanitas motif, to juxtapose symbols of death and symbols of wealth and worldly power. This relates to the role of the vampire Queen Faustina, who is both in reign of the vampires but who also seemingly spreads death over them by spreading the curse as Naenia (a name also connected to death, as Naenia was a funeral deity in ancient Rome. The name Faustina on the other hand…is a whole new topic for another day and is most likely referring to Goethe’s Faust, a play that revolves around a scholar who makes a contract with the devil. Actually the act of vampires exposing their real name includes elements of/refers to the Faustian pact motif).

Book

The book itself also a symbol of vanitas and finds its place in the story in form of the…”Book of Vanitas”. Books (among measurement tools and the like) within the vanitas motif represent the emptiness and vanity of earthly knowledge and striving. Subsequently they symbolize the haughtiness that can arise out of thirst for knowledge. From this perspective this symbolism is also tied to Dr. Moreau, who horribly abused Vanitas and other children in experiments to gain scientific knowledge in order to become a vampire himself...and his eventual failure.

Knife

Another part of Vanitas as a character is also connected to the vanitas motif – his knife. The knife stands for the vulnerability of the human life and also functions as a death symbol. The knife is especially charged symbolically as Vanitas attacks Noé on the rooftop, declaring their cooperation has ended at this point. Vanitas is refusing to let another person in his life, refusing to trust someone else but himself. His attack towards Noé with his knife not only is an attempt to make Noé hate him, but also a symbolic “cut” of their ties. But the symbolism doesn’t end here, as Noé is the one who stops the knife with his hand. Showing that he will refuse their ties to be cut. Showing that he will stay at Vanitas side no matter what and that he accepts him and doesn’t want him to be alone. In a second situation where their relationship is on the verge of breaking is the conflict within the catacombs, as Noé refuses to agree with Vanitas idea of fighting back Laurent. Vanitas lashes out, severly insults Noé and tells him to leave, if he doesn’t agree. But Noé stays at his side (and still shows him that he doesn’t agree). One could conclude that Noé’s relationship with Vanitas has an element of transience in it by Vanitas coping mechanism of avoiding and leaving others in case of conflict. And Noé fights this transience of their relationship by offering Vanitas trust, acceptation and in the end stability. During their next conflict, where Noé spits out that he wants to drink Vanitas’ blood, Vanitas leaves. But this time it is Vanitas himself who initiates remediation, who fights his own transience when it comes to social relationships. He returns (which is unlikely to him, as Dante states), his care for Noé are stronger than his desire to be fleeting, not being able to be “caught” by anyone. And sees Noé waiting for him. Again, offering stability.

Mirror

The vanitas motif is not only imbedded in the accessory of Vanitas himself. It also finds its place in the design of Noé, more precisely in the small mirror attached to his tophat. In the context of the vanitas motif, mirrors symbolize vanity and the evanescence of earthly beauty. It also stands for pride and haughtiness, similar to the Greek myth of Narcissus. This actually contrasts Noé’s humble personality.

Flowers

Within the manga Paris is described as the “City of flowers”. While flowers can be also a symbol of love and even immortality, their blooming and withering can also be a symbol of death and fleetingness of beauty, especially in the context of baroque symbolism.

Musical instruments

Musical instruments are a sign of transiency as well, as the sound vanishes into nothing as soon as it is articulated. Music is seen as something unique and unrepeatable, and also as something that is transient in its nature. This becomes evident in Cloé’s character arc, as music is her way to manipulate the world formula. Her life is also highly influenced by the transience of her surroundings, while she herself is forced to remain static.

Carpe diem

Latin for “seize the day”. It’s the name of Jeanne’s weapon. “Carpe diem” is an idiom that was especially popular in the baroque era, but it dates back to the roman poet Horace. Along with “memento mori” and “vanitas”, it emphasized the fleetingness of all life. “Carpe diem” emphasizes the call to make use of the day and the time left and to act, despite the eventual transient nature of all afford. The own mortality should be remembered and therefore the day should be seized. This reflects the main characters Vanitas, Noé and Jeanne, who carry on and refuse to give up, despite the external and internal struggles they face.

The color blue

The color blue takes a significant role within the narratives (Vampire!Vanitas being born under the blue moon). While it is not traditionally connected with vanitas itself, the color blue, together with the color black (which are the two dominating colors within human!Vanitas’ character design), is connected to death and melancholy.

The role of the vanitas motif within the narrative

The vanitas motif is embedded both in the form and in the content of the narrative.

The vanitas motif is embedded within in form of the manga as it has an analytic plot structure. This means the story’s conclusion is already presented in the beginning and the rest of the story unfolds how the eventual conclusion happened. This is the case in “Vanitas no carte” as it presents the conclusion, that Vanitas dies in the end within the first chapter and we are actually reading Noé’s memoirs. Therefore it is a constant reminder, that Vanitas will die and nothing that will happen in the story will change that outcome. Everything that happens in the story appears basically unable to change the end. Every positive development is overshadowed by the fact that it is made clear by the narrative since the very beginning that there will be no happy ending for the main characters. This is especially notable in the scene on the rooftop in volume 3, where Noé declares, how he will stay on Vanitas’ side. This scene is followed by an overlying narration of Noé, who says that memories of the beginning awake memories of the end and expressing his regret. In this positive, powerful scene where Vanitas and Noé make up and the themes of human bonds, free will, acceptation of oneself and others and trust really shine…also embeds the eventual tragic end. The omnipresence of death and its fatality and the transience of life and the knowledge that nothing lasts is the essence vanitas motif and it is presented in the mere structure of the manga.

But its not only the structure where the vanitas motif is woven in, but also the story. This shows especially in the character Vampire!Vanitas and in the mere name itself. As Cloe’s case shows: Vampires are pretty much immortal, if not directly killed. On the other hand, it is the curse of Vampire!Vanitas that endangers vampires: Because it gives them back their mortality and the transience of their existence. A transience not brought by an outside force as in the church, that hunts the vampires – but transience within themselves and their very nature. Vampires fear becoming cursed as much as humans fear death – it can always happen, to everyone. It’s not fast, but slow, seemingly unstoppable “decay”. So it is fitting for someone called “Vanitas” to bring transience and the constant reminder of death and fear upon their whole species.

Another factor of the vanitas motif is the inevitable passing of time and the changes this brings – a theme that is deeply tied to several characters arcs, where death and loss and how to deal with both is a major theme (especially when it comes to Vanitas, Noé, Jeanne, but how they relate to each other thematically is worth an analysis itself and I would digress too much). This is especially notable in Cloé’s arc, who is the only vampire in her family and becomes more and more isolated and alienated from her family, who eventually forgets about her. Cloé’s wish to stop the passing of time (and the underlying wish to be happy with her family, to be accepted for what she is), to fight the transience or rather to fight the vanitas manifests in the time loop. The time is reset and tied into a loop – symbolizing not only her being stuck in the past, but also her refusal of a future, since a future meant nothing but being forgotten for her, who sees no other purpose in herself but to execute the will of her family that has long forgotten her.

The concept of vanitas also includes fatalism and the belief that humans don’t have control over their own lifes. This makes Lord Ruthven , who uses curses to bind other vampires to his will and eliminating their own (as he did/tried to do with Noé, Jeanne and Cloé) a fitting villain from a thematic viewpoint as he impersonates fatalism. Personal choices or free will don’t matter for him as he erases both. This makes him a foil for Vanitas and an antagonist not only in actions but in world view. To Vanitas the freedom of his will and the consciousness of his own choices are extremely important to him. He could never choose in the past and was more seen as tool used by his surroundings than as a person. This emphasis of choices opposes Vanitas to the traditionally fatalistic viewpoint of the vanitas-motif. Not only that, but he uses the Book of Vanitas to actually reverse the curse and fighting the transience of existence that has befallen the vampires.

So Vanitas fights Vampire!Vanitas not only as a person by preventing the curse from killing vampires – but simultaneously he fights the transience and the fatalism: He fights vanitas as a concept itself.

But the narrative doesn’t deem transience not as internally negative. Quite the opposite, the narrative sees transience as an opportunity for change. The change of fixed structures is also an important theme after all. This change of structures is of both negative (as the curse dissembles the true name of the vampire and therefore their entire nature and Jeanne’s struggle and agony with coming in terms with seeing herself changing) and positive qualities. In one of the early chapters Vanitas complains about how the vampires are stuck in the past and therefore refusing his help – it is not only after Vanitas proofs himself that he is at least tolerated. The message of the positive side of change is also within Vanitas’ and Noé’s improving relationship and understanding. Even though Vanitas has a hard time to accept these changes (as he didn’t tell Noé about the state of the Queen, because he thought he wouldn’t believe him and refers to the several past experiences of vampires almost killing him), the positive relationship of both of them even inspires changes in others. Notably Laurent. Who, inspired by seeing a human and a vampire in a positive relationship begins to question his own beliefs and is even on the road to uncover secrets of the church, breaking up entrenched structures as well.

As a conclusion one could say that the manga makes many, many allusions to the vanitas motif and incorporates them structurally, thematically and plot-wise.

Vanitas no Carte is really a case study of vanitas.

[qvill-s]

Hiiii! May I request for M!grima robin?? Angst ask no. 11 and 17 combined please I need something to fuel my angst needs :") thanks in advance

NOTES: angst for my dragon boy ??? absolutely !!!

WARNINGS: injuries; kidnapping

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

m! grima + “nobody’s seen you in days” &&. “if you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart” under the cut !!!

Grima can’t help but feel a little proud of himself as he returns triumphant from the solo mission you sent him on. It was long and hard, and at times a little trying, but he managed. After all, you were the one who told him that you couldn’t entrust this task to anyone other than him. Thus, armed with the memory of your words and your hands on his shoulders and the determination and trust in your gaze, how could he possibly fail?

Where he expects your smile and your warmth and your praise, he finds only the Order of Heroes in a state of panic and the loss of your presence in the halls.

Immediately noting that something was off, he confronts Commander Anna, a soft hiss of your name punctuating his unasked question. Where is the Summoner?

She shakes her head, looking more haggard than he’s ever seen her, replying with, “Nobody’s seen the Summoner in days.”

It’s strange to see the Fell Dragon so agitated over another’s life, much less the life of the insolent worm who summoned him here and disrupted the chaos he was creating in another world. Though Grima tried as hard as he could to continue to hate you, to loathe you for bringing him here, he very quickly failed in the face of your kindness and genuine concern and how easily you accepted who he was despite of all he’s done and destroyed.

(“If Breidablik says you’re a Hero, then that’s good enough for me,” you announced when he was summoned, your tone holding a certain sense of finality that said that that was the end of the conversation.)

Naturally, of course, he draped himself all over you. You were his prey, after all; his and his alone. There was never a moment since he was summoned that he wasn’t by your side. He was with you when you oversaw the training for the Heroes and went over the Order’s inventory. He accompanied you when you summoned new Heroes to join Askr’s cause, scowling at the new additions all the while (his scowl was particularly nasty when you summoned a wielder of the Falchion). He sat in tactic meetings even though they bored him to no end, but secretly, the small part of Robin still left in him delighted in these meetings, and Grima would often end up offering a particularly clever maneuver that had you sending a bright smile his way.

The one time you needed him, however, the one time he could’ve protected you, he wasn’t there.

Suddenly, an overwhelming anger fills his body. There’s an ache that builds up in his chest, strangling his lungs and his words, right where his shriveled heart should be. He swallows the growing lump in his throat, ignoring the pain and ignoring the ache, as he snarls, “You better find the Summoner, Commander, before I end that worthless life of yours.”

Anna looks unfazed as she nods tiredly. That was not the first threat she’s received since you’ve gone missing, and frankly, it wasn’t the worst.

With a harsh exhale of breath, Grima turns on his heel and seeks solitude in the place where your scent is the strongest—your room.

He lets himself in with the key that you gave him not so long ago—“Just in case you get lonely,” you told him playfully—and the pain in his chest increases as he’s hit with you and how you’re no longer beside him. He staggers over to your bed, sinking down into the plush covers and clutching a hand over his chest.

As he looks around, he sees phantoms of you hovering around your room. There’s you sitting at the desk by your window, turning to see if he was still listening to you talk about your stupid problems and concerns (as if he could be troubled with hearing them). There’s you huddled under the blanket beside him, having taken a nap after he forced you to. There’s you looking out of the window and into the world, watching the sunset, highlighted by the orange glow of the sun, or watching the stars, the constellations imprinting themselves into the color of your eyes. He sees you sitting beside him in the light of the moon, watching the moonlight caress your features as if it, too, were fascinated by you and the curve of your cheek or the quirk of your lips.

The ache in his chest multiplies tenfold at the sight of your ghosts flitting about your room, the forms of you he can’t touch and can’t talk to, and he can’t help but feel the slightest bit annoyed with his annoyingly human body. He’s the Fell Dragon, the destroyer of Ylisse and the cruel master of destiny. He is able to strike fear into the hearts of men and erase futures in a single blow.

But here he is, unable to cope with the loss of the presence of one measly, mortal life. He even feels a pressure behind his eyes, and he paws angrily at his closed lids. He should be happy that you’re gone, should be happy that you’re no longer there to command him, to tell him what to do, to control him with your stupid divine weapon, and yet…

Why does he feel so alone?

He sags even further into himself. Curse this weak, human vessel. Curse the emotions it makes him feel, the wrenches and tugs and pulls at his heart, the single tear that manages to slip through his iron will and streak down his cheek. 

Suddenly, he feels a ghost of a touch across his shoulders and a whisper of a voice—your voice—

Come and find me, you tell him, cupping his face between your palms, come bring me home.

He wipes savagely at the tracks his (wretched, weak) tears left, and nods to himself.

I will.

❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

It takes Grima less than a day to find you again, following the dredges of you that linger in the air and all around him. Your perfume here, strands of your hair there, and once, a splatter of your blood against the trunk of a tree.

(The latter made him livid—the thought of another harming his human, enough to make them bleed—and he’ll make sure to return the favor.)

He finds you in an abandoned watch tower a long ways away from the castle. Quite honestly, he almost missed it, with how well it was hidden into the forest and blended in with the trees, had it not been for the waves of your scent emanating from it.

He doesn’t bother with stealth, with quiet, with finding cover, because he plans on taking them all.

He busts down the hidden door to the place, startling the petty criminals that litter the area and interrupting their plans of what to do with you. Once every eye has turned to watch him, his mouth curls into a smirk, flashing the barest hint of his teeth. “Did you worms really think that this would work out?”

He gives them a moment to think it over.

Then, the real fun begins.

❛ ━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❀ ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Your unconscious form lies in a room just up the steps. Some of your hair is matted with blood, sticking to the wound on your forehead that disappears into your hairline. Your wrists and ankles are raw and angry from the ropes that dug into your skin. He growls, ready to turn back to the corpses that decorate the other room, livid and ready to tear them apart piece by piece when—

“… grima…?”

Your lashes flutter against your cheek as you force your tired eyes to open and see him, framed by the wooden doorway and darkened by the early dredges of sunlight shining behind him. He stands, frozen in place, fists clenched, and covered in blood.

You cough, trying to free your voice from the confines of your scratchy throat. “G-grima, is that… is that you?”

Your voice is barely a whisper, but he can hear you loud and clear over the pounding blood racing in his ears. He crosses the room in a heartbeat, kneeling in front of you, tearing through the ropes and setting you free. You look at him like you can’t believe he’s here, that he’s come to save you, that he took the time to find you, and he feels the words stab through his heart.

You repeat his name again, feeble and wobbly, stretching your now free hands to cup his face. Once the tips of your fingers brush his skin, once your hands follow the curve of his jaw, you burst into silent tears.

Grima doesn’t ask if you’re alright, if you’re okay, because even a complete idiot could tell that you weren’t. Instead, he lets you cry, watching as the tears stream down your face and wanting to wipe them away. He doesn’t know how to be gentle, and the Robin side of him—is there even a difference between the two anymore?—is terrified of hurting you any further.

You’re the first to break the silence, to fill the quiet with your voice.

“Can… can I have a hug…?” You ask him wetly, speaking through the tears that line your face and the inside of your throat.

He startles. The “What?” that leaves his lips sounds harsher than he intended, and you flinch, drawing your touch away from him. He misses it immediately. He wants to capture your fleeting fingers and place them back to where they were before, please don’t go—

“I-if you don’t hug me right now, I t-think I’ll fall apart…” Your voice sounds even smaller than before as you draw your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them. He hears the silent plea in your confession, the I need someone to keep me together that comes from your words.

Carefully, slowly, he wraps his arms around your shaking form, one hand against your back and the other under your knees, lifting you up into his arms. He holds you a bit tighter than necessary, but you don’t seem to mind, because your tears fall with renewed vigor and you throw your arms around his neck, tucking your face into the crook of his shoulder.

He doesn’t know how to be gentle, he admits, but he thinks he can learn for you.

[godkilller]

          ❝ I hope we always get to do this, ❞ she spoke wistfully, punctuating her aspiration with the crisp plop of another pebble thrown into the cool waters. Beside her, the lounging deity hummed----thoughtful, though a signature stretching smile soon spread despite her vaguely serious sentiment.

          ❝ ...throw rocks into a lake? ❞ Gin teased. Rangiku scoffed. The familiarity of their exchange, the playfulness, the rolling of her eyes and puff of her cheeks... merely added to the serene normalcy of their getaway. As though they had always been together, here within the trees, for centuries.

          The mountainous horizon met a summer sun with vigor, the vibrancy of life hardly disturbed by the cities and villages at its base----most who shallowly entered were merchants traveling for goods to trade, or hermits, and even then they dared not venture too deep into the mysterious woods far too ancient to be respectfully tamed. Old torii resided, dominated by extending greenery leeching across their faded red husks. No paths were pressed within the soft grass leading through the mountain, they departed from tentative trade routes swiftly under Gin’s leadership long before reaching their secret destination. Through thick foliage he guided her, insistent, and she trusted him to not lead her astray. Gin took her within its depths, past the silver rocks and twisted trees, further still into the army of ancient branches, towering trunks, and raging roots until they spilled into the mouth of a grand lake.

          Water sparkling clear, they rested in a hidden valley of their own. A sanctuary from her human duties; the god could steal Rangiku away to be a little less of a mortal for a few hours... surrounded by all things ( unbeknownst to her ) spiritual... until she was required to retire home. There, they could spend hours undisturbed------though the present visit counted as merely her third time within the deity’s natural domain, she seemed comfortable enough to linger gladly. She stood without her typical elegant robes, fine fabrics, and rather freed herself in the simplicity of a plain outfit best suited for the summer days, wavy locks captured in a makeshift bun hanging loosely by the base of her neck. She looked beautiful.

          ❝ ----no, I meant... like, spending more time together like this. You’re always vanishing off somewhere or I’m too busy to sneak out. ❞ Rangiku persisted, defending her earlier statement with a signature pout, and Gin knew better than to even weakly mock her. Straightening up, the god appeared as anything but divine. Though silver strands did betray his facade of mortality with a tint of strangeness, a slight unique trait to be glimpsed at with uncertainty----the main betrayal resided in his eyes.

          Though the shape-shifting deity could control all aspects of his appearance, whether human or not, it was a different gesture entirely to dismiss the vibrancy of the eyes. Keepers of the soul, it was widely considered by all celestial and dark alike as a great deception to cloud or otherwise alter the eyes with whatever power available. Demons and spirits could not cloak their eye color no matter the unnatural hue, though gods obeyed via unspoken pact, a promise made to not so shamefully deceive others of one’s true form. But the fox-like entity did not quite play to such clean-cut rules, a trickster and maker of mischief. Gin often remedied the tell by simply squinting his eyes to levels that rendered his vibrant gaze unseen. Though, with her, he felt an openness------especially considering Rangiku didn’t know the significance of their gazes meeting, nor the truth behind the potency of his azure eyes.

          Her soul was exposed to him by a mere glimpse, she didn’t know. She couldn’t have known how he knew her with a gaze. Blurred beyond the curves of her body burned her very core, brilliant and tangible if he so wished to reach out and touch her. Brush slender fingers against the wispy humming light of her sheer existence past what soft skin sheltered her. Thoughts of keeping her fire burning for an eternity flowed through his mind, how he vehemently matched her wistful sentiment of wanting this, ALWAYS. What fate guided her to his shrine that night forever linked them. Love seemed far too human, too simple, but perhaps that was the joke of it all. How the bored god had desperately wished for a complication, for an issue to dissect, a puzzle to solve, something new and tangled for him to carefully and slowly unwrap, unravel... now, he wanted plain. Human. Their connection could be of a simpler nature; her, the chrysanthemum renowned within the Hanamachi she called home, and him, the boy from under the bridge. They could remain within their dynamic and he could watch her bloom. Perhaps he’d become her Danna, eventually, in another form. How selfish he became, wanting to encompass her in every way. Emotions expanded beyond the spectrum of colors available to a mere mortal’s soul----here, the divine’s 'soul’ gleamed with tendrils of unseen light, multitudes of flaring flourishes painted across the canvas, ink staining past describable hue. He thought himself incapable, and yet he still looked upon her with it. Enthralled, mesmerized, absolutely captivated, unable to pull away... the god had fallen in love with a human.

        ❝ ----------well, maybe soon y’won’t haveta sneak out anymore. ❞ He spoke smoothly, uninterested in touching upon his vanishing act. Omnipresence did not behave in the ways humans daydreamed about, but he couldn’t fault them for wishing it so. Gin didn’t enjoy his departure, but could not simply dwell as a pretend-mortal to forsake his divine duties. As nice as that idea sounded...

        ❝ Oooor... you could just stop disappearing randomly. ❞ She pushed the issue regardless, bent knees shifting against grass to scoot her frame closer to his in assertion.

        ❝ Where do ya think I go? Y’know, when I vanish and all? ❞ Silver tongue, refined, delicately dipped upon the topic. And he spoke with truth. Intrigue, genuine, tipped his chin upwards in observance of her. There his gaze watched, piercing blue as the cloudless heavens above, and there his gaze entered. Thoughts of him aimlessly wandering off to other cities to flirt among women or perhaps even capture one as a lover, forsaking every thought of her to be overcome with some sort of affair in secrecy, floated briefly in her mind. The image itself was sharp, a thought revisited perhaps or at the very least formulated with focus, worried, and tinges of concern for her own importance. His smile remained as she desperately swatted the concept from her immediate thoughts. He delved no deeper for her internal turmoil of an answer, curiosity appeased.

        ❝ I don’t know, that’s the whole point, you just---- ❞ she waved her hands, uncertain, then flopped them back beside her to absently grip upon blades of grass, tinkering with discarded pebbles and rocks that were of her previous attention. Now, the stress-relieving motion aided her through admittance. ❝ --and sometimes you’re gone for weeks. ❞

        ❝ I always come back though, right? ❞ He lacked any hesitation or uncertainty when he answered----nearing pride by the strength of his conviction: he would always return to her. Regardless, Rangiku whined at his answer, as she deemed it insufficient in terms of strength to chase away her insecurities, though he knew her better than to count a fleeting thought as her ultimate weakness. Over time it would brew, grow, or simmer depending on her emotions at that given moment. Whilst the concept itself upset her, she did not feel distraught nor did she strongly wish to confront him on the matter. The value she placed on their time spent together greatly exceeded her desire for answers----and for that, Gin was grateful. One day, perhaps, he’d indulge her with the truth in its entirety. He’d speak of ageless tales, otherworldly and far beyond human harvests, a quiet prayer spoken with coin dispensed. For today? He wished only to throw a few more rocks into a lake.

          Rangiku sighed lightly, then smiled with warmth as she smoothed her thumb across a round stone she had captured idly to ease her nerves. Clouds receeded across her thoughts, and once more she embodied the very golden rays that danced within stray strands kissed by a gentle breeze. Delicate, yet dazzling.

          ❝ Mm... hey, Gin, can you promise me something? ❞

          Perhaps the gesture was a tad too animalistic in nature----the simple cant of his head with eyes glinting beneath the shade of an arching branch----which therein indicated the attentive energies of someone far greater than a mere man. A promise was not made lightly, even within the mortal plains. What pacts of demons boasted was that of unending loyalty to their bonds despite the parasitic dynamic they presented, and spirits too held themselves to the standards of eternity within any connection made, any promise spoken, seals made. The shapeshifter deity existed in this same eternity, ingrained within the bloodstream of the ground they sat upon, the air they breathed. The very mountains they lay nestled between remained with integrity to their protective force promised upon the feeble villages below to stay off evils that endured for centuries. 

       TO WHAT END, THEN, WOULD HE KEEP HERS?

         ❝ Never change. ❞

[philosofangirl]

Fan Theory: Perception of Time in VK/VKM

Hello VK/Zeki Fam, long time no see! *Hugs everybody*

I’ve been offline for a millennia due to a new job and family life stuffz but I I finally have some free time to go into the VK meta I’ve been dying to sink my teeth in to! (beware, there may be terrible puns ahead.  You’ve been warned.)

From what I’ve seen in the Vampire Knight meta-sphere, reactions towards the past two chapters are mixed, leaning towards the Hino-san, what the fruitcake are you doing to us now? end of the spectrum. 

@getoffthesoapbox​ @soulisthirsty​ @zerolover66​ and others before me have written some excellent analyses & theories, and I don’t plan on doing a full rehash.  Instead, I’d like to propose a different theory...

I’ll start this fan theory with a question:   Do Yuuki and Zero perceive time differently?

This may seem like an odd question, so let me break it down.  

Do people perceive time differently?  

It can be argued that they do.  You often hear folks talk about “life changing experiences” or how a near death experience alters their perspective.  If you are diagnosed with a terminal illness, and know that you only have a few months left to live, your perception of time will likely be very different than that of a healthy teenager.  Even though both individuals could theoretically die in a freak accident at the same time, or the sick individual finds a miracle cure, the way they value their time, more likely than not, differs.  

You can also look at it this way: one year to a 3-year-old is 1/3 of their life, whereas one year to an 80-year-old is 1/80 of their life.  Time passes differently for children versus adults.

Which leads me to another question: 

In Vampire Knight, do mortals with finite time perceive time passing differently than immortals with infinite time?  

From what we’ve been shown canonically, I believe there’s a chance that the answer is yes.  

Let’s take a look at a scene from VKM chapter 10:

In this panel Yuuki comments that 60 months feels like 1 month.**

60 months = 5 years

That means 5 years feels like 1 month of “normal life” (basically 1 month to the rest of us.)

Take your age and divide it by 5. If you’re 20 years old, that’s the equivalent of 4 months.

(More under the cut!)

I’m no math whiz (believe me haha) but I found this factoid intriguing because I believe it gives us some insight into how much time has “passed” for Yuuki, and what time feels like to purebloods.  It’s easy for human fans like us to question how Zeki could be together for so long without significant progression, but, if Yuuki perceives time differently, it could explain a lot about her character.  

⚜ ════ • ⚜  • ════ ⚜           

Overly simplistic calculation time: let’s go with how long 50 years “feels” like:

(note: if my calculations are incorrect hit me up, math and I are barely on speaking terms xD )

12 months * 50 years = 600 months

Let x = the amount of time 50 years feels like to a pureblood. (Keep in mind, 60 months feels like 1 month)

1 month / 60 months = x /600 months 

60x = 600

x= 10 months

That’s less than a year.

⚜ ════ • ⚜  • ════ ⚜

So, do mortals and immortals view time differently?  

Going off what Yuuki said and my calculations above, I believe they do!  Another canonical example of this can be found in Yori & Hanabusa.  Yori openly wonders how different her life would be if she had the same amount of time to do things as Hanabusa.  Hanabusa also expressed that he wanted to cherish every moment because he knew just how fleeting their time together would be. Even after Yori’s death, he still looks young, and as a noble vampire he will probably live on for many, many years. 

The pressure of Yori aging spurred their relationship development, and they got married before any of the other characters in relationships (that we know of.) This wasn’t by accident.  In contrast, vampires like Shiki and Rima never had that kind of pressure (at least not after Rido was dealt with) so they could wait 50 years before getting married.  This didn’t seem to faze either of them.  Also, in Volume 1 Ichijou celebrates his 18th “human” birthday, showing that vampires do seem to measure time differently (though I can’t recall whether this was ever thoroughly explained.)

Back to the original question: Do Yuuki and Zero perceive time differently?  

I believe this answer is an unequivocal yes, and arguably this difference in perception has led to Zeki not being on the same page romantically speaking. I would argue that this difference has also played a key role in their different character motivations. They may have the same destination in mind (marriage, babies, happily ever after and all that jazz), but they are not in agreement about how long it should take (or what it will take) to get there.

Let’s start with their childhoods:

ZERO grew up in a family of hunters.  He always felt he needed to take on a heavier load to ease Ichiru’s burden.  Hunters, given the nature of their profession, almost certainly have a high mortality rate, and low life expectancy rate.  They’re trained to fight, but they can still die in combat.  This is something that Zero is aware of from a very young age.  Then, Zero’s family is attacked by Shizuka and he is damned, doomed to become a level E. Every day he knows there’s a chance he can go mad, hurt someone and be killed by one of his comrades.  It even drove him to the point of suicide.  Thinking you can die or lose control at any moment isn’t the sort of mentality that easily goes away.  He always slept with a weapon close at hand for a reason.  

YUUKI, in comparison, did not grow up with constant reminders of death.  At a young age, she was very sheltered and told she would live forever as Kaname’s bride. In high school her lost past and vampires concerned her, but she didn’t live in fear of death every moment of her life. When she was reawakened she discovers anew that she will live forever, outliving everything apart from other purebloods.  It takes her some time to adjust to this reality.  At one point she convinces herself that the only way to fix everything is to sacrifice herself.  But in this scenario she was the biggest threat to herself, since Zero and Kaname were ready to do just about anything to stop it.

When Kaname sacrificed himself, she made it her mission to return the favor and atone for her sins one day.  Suddenly she was no longer going to live forever, now she would live up until the time was right.  Yet, just like the concept of “forever”, there’s no exact date so how long she has remains rather vague beyond “sometime far into the future.”

Given their backgrounds and physical differences, I posit that the two of them view time very differently, and this difference needs to be communicated. Is 50 years a long time? Yes, yes it is. Does this excuse letting problems fester this long? No, it does not. 

However, even though Zero deserves all the patience awards for how long he’s stayed by Yuuki’s side, if my theory is correct, Yuuki perceives her time together with Zero the way an immortal pureblood would, not a human being nor a soldier.  Being a pureblood likely exacerbates this compared to the average vampire.  This discrepancy could mean 50 years to Yuuki feels like 10 months, but 50 years to Zero actually feels like 50.  It may sound absurd to us, but we’re talking about immortal fictional creatures after all.

Now hold onto your hats, because I believe the implications go beyond her relationship to Zero.

Other Out-There Theories

Theory #1: given Yuuki’s perception of time, her carefree attitude, and her idea of what being in a relationship consists of, there’s a chance that Yuuki still “feels” like a teenager. Even Zero commented offhandedly that Ai acts more mature than Yuuki.  In some ways that’s why the people around her (particularly Yori and Zero) say they love her—a certain loveable idiot/ innocence and uncomplicated desire for the people around her to be happy. I believe her pureblood influenced perception of time, (and possibly self if she really sees herself as a teenager and not a grown woman) is at the root of her stagnation. Compared to her 3 thousand year old parents, being ~80 would still be seen as very young for a pureblood.

Theory #2: I, like many readers, had hoped that Yuuki would mature during this period post Kaname, and in some small/subtle ways I believe she has. When Yuuki says “there’s nothing innocent about us anymore” in VKM10, I recalled her time with Zero in the shower at Cross Academy, which in many ways was portrayed as a “loss of innocence” and a “sin.” But then after her arc 1 development you go to arc 2 where Yuuki is treated like a child and a doll by Kaname. Maybe her perception of who she really is got screwed up along the way.

Yuuki has gone through a lot, and even she has noted just how much time has passed. She let her hair grow out, she had a kid.  Yet, she still clings to Kaname, a symbol of her childhood, when the healthy thing would be to move forward for the sake of those around her.  Others have theorized that this might be related to some sort of trauma. If Yuuki really does still “feel” like or “see herself” as a teenager, and 50 years feels like 10 months, the wounds caused by Kaname would still feel very raw. 

I have PTSD myself, and sometimes an event that happened four years ago feels like it happened just yesterday.  I can’t imagine what it would be like to live with it while holding a skewed perception of time.  It’s not as simple as “getting over it” and letting time take its course. I believe the only way she can get back on the preferred path is to confront what happened to her head on.  Only time and Hino will tell whether that happens. Until Yukki deals with these issues and learns to step forward, she’ll remain stagnant.  

Why would Hino do something like this?!  

Some of you may be wondering: teenage Yuuki again?  What does Yuuki “feeling” like a teenager mean? I believe it means that she can also, at times, still act like one.  At the end of the day this is a shoujo manga, and the largest reading demographic will be teenage girls who need to relate with the characters.  Plus, it’s a story; conflict drives the plot engine along. I suspect this was intentional on Hino’s part, but maybe I’m giving her and the character too much credit o.o’ 

What would this discrepancy mean for Zeki?  

I predict how time passes/ how they perceive time passing will probably come up (and definitely should come up) at one point in their relationship.  After all, if Yuuki is just biding her time while Zero is counting every day, the narrative will grow dull and things will not turn out well. If they’re not on the same page, how could things work out between them? 

We’ve already seen it on the character’s minds to a degree: Yuuki expressed her fear of abandonment/ loneliness/ oblivion in arc 2, and Zero has reminded Yuuki that her time is her own to spend how she pleases. How one spends their time and with whom one spends their time is a recurring theme. It took a long time (practically 2/3 of the original series) for Yuuki and Zero to accept their very existence as pureblood and hunter, but they’ve never had to really work at the logistics of a romantic relationship between a pureblood and non-pureblood (something we haven’t seen, at least not any longterm/ healthy ones.) 

With Yori’s death and Ai in sleep mode, I expect to see time and how they spend their time to crop up again.    

Throw away observations:

If Yuuki has difficulty assessing the passage of time, it makes it that much easier for her to cling to certain portions of her past. In some ways, when Kaname changed her he was trying to encase her in resin like the rose, almost freeze her in time as the loving girl he desired.  Yori, and to an extent Ai, probably served as reminders that time was passing in a world where most of the people Yuuki deals with pretty much stay forever young.  It’s possible that, despite time passing, she herself is still frozen.  Yuuki has been shown as sentimental on several occasions, including VKM 10 where she explains why she still holds on to her charm bracelet.  She talks about keeping it as a reminder of her promise and as a reminder of a time when she was human.  But, as she’s shown on numerous occasions, she’s a vampire. Body and soul. She has no plans to change that, yet she still clings to a piece of her humanity.

Interestingly, in VKM before Zero’s death Yuuki said she would devour him showing her love “the way vampires do.” In VK, drinking the blood of your beloved, the only one who can quench your thirst, is how vampires traditionally express their love for one another. In VKM10, when Zeki are discussing their relationship and Zero asks what a restart means, she begins with several very innocent, naive suggestions that harken back to their days at Cross Academy. Soon after, in one of their first on screen “acts” as an official couple, Yuuki tells Zero to drink her blood to the last drop. 

This scene is controversial among Zeki fans given its (some would say Yume-like) undertones. But, it got me wondering whether Yuuki really knows how to participate in a mature relationship, whether either of them know how to be in a healthy romantic relationship.  If Yuuki thinks “drinking blood is the way vampires show their love for one another” and she acted on that, then is she just going through the motions and doing what she thinks she should be like she did in the Kuran Manor?  Or, was this just a natural impulse? (oh, the multitude of interpretations!)

I think Yuuki’s desire for something “human”, or her image and expectations from when she was a human teenager, could be in conflict with what she believes vampires are supposed to do.  This inner struggle between her two selves may have cause the disconnect and tone shift.

This is all conjecture, so hopefully we’ll see more of what’s going on inside Yuuki’s head in the chapters to come.  I keep thinking back to Yuuki’s dark expression when talking to Ai as a child about the relationship between the three MCs, and of the mystery box.  Perhaps it’s just wishful thinking on my part, but I don’t think Yuuki is as daft or simple as she’s sometimes portrayed to be.

That’s all folks!

Thanks for reading my philosophizing this far!  Please let me know what you think, or if you have theories of your own!   

Philosofangirl, out.

**Note: So far, we have no way of knowing how subjective this statement is.  This could be Yuuki’s interpretation of time, or it could be accepted as common knowledge by purebloods.  All the same, if this is what Yuuki believes then this informs how she perceives time passing, and I believe Hino included this detail deliberately.

[ganymedesclock]

Character Analysis: Coran

[ Shiro ] [ Lance ] [ Hunk ] [ Pidge ] [ Keith ] [ Allura ]

What kind of blogger would I be if I forgot about our man Coran? I’ll tell you, a bad one. Last but certainly not least in the metas on Team Voltron, it’s time for a post on everyone’s favorite redheaded spaceman-of-all-trades.

Coran is a bit of a frustrating case to overlook because for someone as open and sociable as he is, we know very little of his history- and he also happens to have a lot more history than anyone else on the team... by something of a long shot.

In an offhanded mention, Coran states that the Castle is actually 10,600 years old, because it was built by his grandfather. He later, in a different conversation, reminisces that he remembers his grandfather taking him to a Balmera... while said grandfather was building the Castle.

Thus confirming that Coran is over six hundred years old, not counting his time spent in cryostasis. And yet, at the same time- Coran doesn’t really look or act what we’d consider elderly- if anything, he’s more than a little aghast at the idea of contacting an “old people disease”- insecurity, I think, of someone in later middle ages who’s just starting to confront the idea they’re getting old.

This might well cast some aspersions on Allura’s age as well- she might be a teenager or young adult by Altean standards but we don’t know quite what those standards are.

But for Coran, he’s had certainly what our human sensibilities would consider a very long life, and has spent much of that life, seemingly, in service of the royal family. Said service is something that’s run in his own family line at least as far back as his grandfather, and Coran carries himself with the decorum of high society. He’s no mere servant- much more likely, an aristocrat himself, or possibly a member of the extended royal family considering the very personal way he relates to Alfor and Allura. His official title of Royal Advisor would suggest Alfor turned to him for counsel- but in regards to what specific topics, we aren’t sure. It’s certainly part of the role he plays to Allura.

And in practice- this is someone Alfor entrusted, seemingly alone, with the safety of his daughter and the Black Lion. As Allura was placed in stasis when the castle was still on Altea and Alfor still on the castle, this would tell us that Coran was the one to launch the castle and get it away from Zarkon’s fleet while Alfor, seemingly, held them off- it was Coran who landed the castle on Arus before entering suspension on his own.

We do not know much of Coran’s personal life- besides that seemingly, he’s been a fixture in Allura’s for a very long time, and that he was a very close friend and attendant of the late king. We see very few scenes of Alfor that do not feature Coran in some magnitude. This makes sense- because again, at the end of his life, Alfor trusted Coran with functionally the fate of the entire universe. Especially close on the heels of Zarkon’s betrayal, this tells us that Alfor trusted Coran absolutely.

Out of the spotlight

Coran virtually never takes center stage. This is the main reason he’s so much of an enigma despite being an incredibly open person and intensely prone to sharing stories at the slightest provocation. Coran is support in the purest sense- to the point that out of the team, he is the only one not paired to a unique vehicle that’s his and only his. For Allura, even the castle is uniquely connected to her power in many regards- Coran can’t use much of its higher functions. 

And we do not feel like this is an uncomfortable position for Coran in the slightest. Rather, this seems to be the area he takes to and in fact thrives in, entirely of his own choice. It’s rare for Coran to command a scene- and the few times he does tend to be very memorable, and marked by something close to fury- his indignant “You do not yell at the princess!” in s1e2 and in the season 1 finale, Coran piloting the castle alone to assail entire fleets. 

Coran is support- one who assists and facilitates- but he’s not passive in his role at all. His whole title of advisor can only possibly work if he’s someone who makes his thoughts and opinions heard, and he lives up to that. He will criticize, or even argue rather strongly with- anyone, including Allura, if pushed to it. And even without much impetus at all, he’s shown to kibitz on situations in a very honest- even unflattering manner- even on people that he cares about a lot.

Basically, Coran takes a backseat, but not remotely out of lack of confidence or devaluing himself. He’s an attendant but an incredibly outspoken one, and one with a sense of his own importance as well- reinforcing his quite possible noble background. We’ve even seen that Coran can be a touch condescending- consider his cheerful patronizing of Pidge’s “primitive synapses firing away in their little brain-cage.”

And really, Coran’s ostensibly passive position combined with his own certainty of self creates a truly terrifying combination, one that very rarely flexes itself. Simply, Coran is always the accompaniment to someone more interesting or important- King Alfor in the past, Allura and the Paladins at present. He’s set up perfectly in a blind spot, and his affable prattling makes him even more likely to overlook.

When Coran attacks Zarkon’s fleet, he states that he’s been waiting ten thousand years for this. While we can guess he’d hold a grudge against Zarkon- for Altea, for Alfor, for everything he and Allura have suffered- this is literally the first time we’ve had any implication whatsoever it was there.

Coran, quite simply, took something very close to a murderous rage, folded it neatly, and tucked it up his sleeve until he had the opportunity to take his shot.

People have pointed out the downright brutal efficiency with which Coran intercepts an attack aimed at Allura and retaliates in a way that hits all five paladins, in a single movement- and how very seriously he does his, even if it’s a simple food fight. In particular, a comment I’ve heard on that scene that’s stuck with me a long time in regards to Coran: “Imagine how many times he’s done that for something that wasn’t food.”

Coran is an advisor, but he is not remotely a noncombatant. I would not be surprised at all, in fact, if this is our window of what an archetypal Altean soldier looks and acts like- someone whose first line of defense is not necessarily a suit of armor and a sword, but by convincing you first to not think they’re an opponent. Sure, it’s funny that Coran is completely ineffective at defeating Lance and they immediately engage in some kind of trash talking- but let’s not forget unlike Allura, who was mostly baffled by Lance and only turned aggressive when he didn’t answer her questions, Coran’s first response when confronted with foreign parties was to leap to the attack and his first line of dialogue besides identifying that there were intruders in the castle boiled down to “if I hadn’t just spent an incredible amount of time unconscious in suspended animation, I would’ve put you in a chokehold and knocked you out in a matter of seconds.”

Coran, to a degree, lives in the shadows of brighter people- but he does so voluntarily and intentionally- because as soon as someone tries to make a bid for those brighter people, Coran, already overlooked, is en route to intercept.

That said, while he has that angle, he doesn’t always act on it- his role as an observer means that he’s often quite willing to just see where this situation is going. He’s not nearly as proactive as, say, Shiro- who needs to feel in control of the situation. Coran is triggered to action or inaction by his personal assessment if the situation has, or will, turn immediately dangerous- and if he doesn’t feel like it’s dangerous, or that there’s a meaningful way to engage with it, he will in fact be alarmingly blase in the face of mortal peril- the embodiment of a stiff upper lip.

Another angle of his tendency to mask intense emotions if he doesn’t feel like they have a proper use at this point.

A man of a breathtaking number of hats

So Coran is an advisor, a helmsman, and the main person we see doing maintenance on the castle- and on top of all of that, he may well be some manner of bodyguard. It’s safe to say that Coran is one hell of a busybody, and lesser people would probably have just plain dropped under the weight of his workload and the number of disparate skills this requires.

At the same time, this is probably the biggest source of Coran’s goofy space dad vibe- he has so much varied life experience and skill sets that practically anything for Coran is fair game. History and nostalgia are very big things for him, and, overwhelmingly, what we learn about Coran and from Coran is anecdotal and sentimental in nature. Certainly, he’s quite smart, and likes to explain things, but how much he knows, and quite possibly to a degree just his personality itself, makes him spacey and a bit of a scatterbrain. 

“Finger counting is more of an art than a science”- or, rather, sophisticated mental math (he was trying to crunch how long it would take a spaceship to reach them considering its speed, that is not elementary level addition) is very difficult if your brain goes in a lot of directions and you have a lot of places to lose stray decimals in.

Coran relates much more easily to things intuitively and emotionally than he does trying to attend to precise variables- though that gap is not as large as one would expect because he’s had a lot of time to practice. In general, Coran’s skill set is much more rounded and stable than any of the rest of the team’s- a testament, again, to how much time he’s had to pick things up. Regardless, he does show a pretty good aptitude for working with people, when not held back by heavily outdated information as he was in Space Mall.

When he is, though, he may be slow to admit his initial judgment call was wrong- as mentioned, Coran is rather prideful. He’s quite certain of himself and other people need to impress him- and even in season 2, he has no problems verbally tearing the paladins to shreds if he doesn’t think they’re living up to expectations. Cheerfully.

High energy

You’d think someone past his six hundredth birthday would slow down a little, even if that might be the Altean equivalent of late fifties. You would think wrong in Coran’s case. Probably why this guy has so many odd jobs, aptitudes, and experiences is that he can be almost restless in his energy levels. “Restless” is not how he comes across- but mostly because, as a mature character who’s had a lot of his development already, Coran knows himself and his inclinations. 

As a result, he will often seem quiet- but if you’re paying attention, Coran is virtually always doing something, and usually multitasking as he does. While this could well be a stress-inducing byproduct of being effectively the sole staff of a castle probably designed for a lot more people than that, I think to a degree, Coran is simply someone who does not keep idle very easily at all. When his workload is lightened or alleviated, he’s more inclined to engage in whimsy and curiosity instead.

Another product of this is Coran does very little in half measures, if he’s committed to it.

Theatrics and their absence

Coran certainly has some very dramatic reactions, but it’s almost more noteworthy when he doesn’t. I’ve mentioned that Coran has a major case of stiff upper lip in the face of sometimes even mortal peril- but that’s basically it. Coran’s spectrum of emotional expression oscillates from “politely interested or indifferent” to the melodramatic screaming he put on in s1e2.

In general, Coran’s more mellow expressions of emotion tend to be positive. Frustration is a quick way to get him to more dramatic expressions, and even that varies. It isn’t even a simple game of how intensely Coran feels something, either- some of his most scathing lines are delivered quietly. If anything, it would seem that Coran is more expressive and ebullient in times of levity- if the situation feels serious, then even shouting, there’s a composed sternness to him.

He can also flip between the two multiple times within the course of a single scene and practically at the drop of a hat. In this sense, it would suggest that Coran never really has wild or uncontrolled emotions- simply, he can, and tends to be, fairly lenient in their expression.

This seems to be the product of a lot of work throughout Coran’s life by our glimpses of his younger selves. From a very moody teenage Coran who claims he can only express himself through music to his wildly over-dramatic ebullient young adult self- Coran has pretty much always had a lot of feelings, and it’s only as he’s gotten older that he’s mellowed to a degree and successfully established a certain layer of calm that can exist either over or under them.

And it’s very notable that just because Coran emotes a lot doesn’t mean he’s incapable of duplicity. Because Coran is carrying some emotional giants, and they’re simply things that you do not see at all unless something prompts him to mention them.

His quiet mention that he can’t lose Allura is basically the only admission he has made, at all in the seasons, that much like Allura herself, Coran is nearly alone in the universe- one of a trace handful of surviving Alteans. And after that, his comment that he’s been waiting for a shot at Zarkon acknowledges that possibly even more than Allura, Coran has a driving grudge- one that he buries just as quickly as he acknowledges it to tell Keith to step back and preserve himself rather than engage Zarkon.

Supportive

I’ve mentioned that Coran tends to be a part of someone else’s backdrop, but I think it’s worth noticing- especially as he can be sometimes condescending or flippant with the team- that there is a very affectionate and warm side of Coran. While he is unflinchingly observant of formal titles, it’s also very clear his relationship with Alfor and Allura has been deeply personal and rather familial- and this is much of how he takes to the paladins. Coran is never really so formal with people as to really feel stiff- his proper courtly manners juxtapose with a very flippant and sincere attitude.

A lot of people joke about Shiro being team dad, but honestly- I stand by, Shiro is the perfectionist oldest child that everyone jokes acts like another parent. Coran, though- even when the objective goal was to drive the paladins as hard as possible and make them unite against a single goal, Coran was still giving them breaks and telling them not to push it too hard. (And his praise of Allura’s methods after the fact is incredibly backhanded, almost certainly on purpose)

In Summary

Coran is a person very motivated by memories and sentimentality, but also, for all of his bouncy high-energy persona, there is a really impressive amount of emotional control under his surface, to the point that he can easily hide very powerful sentiments indeed.

Multi-talented and very inclined to working behind the scenes to support others, but also somewhat haughty, and both genuinely deeply fond of the rest of his team and utterly unafraid to take them all down a peg if he feels that’s appropriate. 

[milquetoast-on-acid]

Battlestar Galactica; Miniseries: A Reactionary Post

So if your going to start watching BSG I really recommend starting with the miniseries. There's some great world building, it sets up the characters (really introduces them in wonderfully fantastic ways) and over all I think it's a great miniseries. Now I've read lots of reviews on the miniseries and a lot of people don't consider it as good as the show. For one thing the miniseries is long 3 hours or 1 and a half hours split up into two blocks.  

Another thing that I've found is that the miniseries is a much slower pace than the show and I think that's the real big thing that people have an issue over. For me it really doesn't bother me. I like that the miniseries really took it's time with each of the characters before all of the action starts happening. You really get a good feel for the characters and I think that's important in a series like this that is so action packed and so character focused. The first episode of the series ("33") pushes you right into the action and I kind of feel like it's important to get to know the characters a little before your lost in that current. SO if you haven't seen the series do yourself a favor and check out the miniseries first. Let's get down to it...

What I cover... mostly Bill, Laura, Kara and bits of Lee and their relationships to each other. Also added pictures and gifs to make it pretty. 

The retirement of William (Bill/Old Man) Adama and Galactica (the man and the machine) The show starts off with the retirement of both the Battlestar Galactica and Commander William Adama. There is often some analogy between the ship Galactica and it's Commander William Adama throughout the series. In this case both of them are considered past their prime and both of them are forced into retirement. Much to Adama's detriment he's leaving the fleet and Galactica is being turned into a museum. 

Also considering that the story revolves around man and machine and their relationship to each other it's often used to highlight that despite their differences, there is a lot they have in common. More things that they would often like to think or even realize themselves. 

We see him practicing for his speech for the upcoming decommissioning ceremony his crew wish him well after his retirement. They are sad to see him leave and hold great respect for him.  They have a term of endearment for him "Old Man". Tryol and some of his deck gang have found his old viper and restored it for the ceremony. It's something that is so very bittersweet. 

You can tell how much it means to them and how much it means to him. As the story goes along you realize that he's divorced but he still wears his wedding ring (and may have possibly been divorced for well over a decade or more). He's got one dead son and another one who he has a rather contemptuous relationship with.

Instead Tyrol’s deck gang get Adama a picture of his sons with The Fonz

He's beloved by his crew but not by his family. So it makes one think, just who is William Adama without Galactica and it's crew? For William Adama his crew really is his family and perhaps due to his failings as a father and husband he's really made up for that in the way he treats his military crew. So it becomes even more bittersweet knowing just what he will lose once he finally does retire.

It’s really not hard to see that he loves his son but neither of them know how to talk to the other.

The force of Starbuck

Full colors!

We met our ace pilot Starbuck/Kara Thrace and right out of the gate we hear her catchphrase. And a bit later we get more information on her character in a wonderful scene between her and Colonel Saul Tigh, the ships XO. This is where she is really introduced to us as a no holds bard type of character. She's gutsy and doesn't have much of any respect for authority. The thing is she's cocky and she knows she's damned good at what she does. 

As we learn she has a father/daughter relationship with Bill Adama. So in many ways due to that relationship she is able to get away with some of the things that she perhaps shouldn't. It's interesting to note the sense of family between Kara, Bill and Lee. Bill and Kara have a much better parental/child relationship than Bill and Lee do. 

Also Kara’s face when she does some maneuvering to pit her ship up against Lee’s as she attempts to push his dead ship home.

Kara and Lee

Also, Kara and Lee's very odd complex relationship. Years before the series started Kara was engaged to Lee's brother Zak and now she has a UST type of relationship with Lee. All the while the two of them having a sibling like relationship. Both of them fight like siblings rivaling for the top spot and for their father's approval. It's chaotic and messy more often than not between the two of them.

Laura's struggle with power and death

The very first thing that we learn about Laura Roslin is that she's got some kind of disease and her prognoses doesn't look good. It's a very odd thing to start off a major character in a television series with a deadly disease. Something that I don't think I had ever encountered in a series before. So it's very interesting to see where the series ends up taking her in that particular storyline.

It's particularly fascinating to watch as Laura steps up to the plate of taking leadership all the while struggling with her own mortality. It's not a natural thing for her to do but yet she does it. And does it surprisingly well (surprising for a great many of the other characters). The thing about Laura is that she is often times underestimated. She’s usually very good at assessing people. Understanding what makes them work and this ends up working to her advantage here and later on in her Presidency. 

the super self composed Laura Roslin has a freakout in the bathroom and it’s bloody fantastic! That little shake of the head gets me every time.

Laura is a interesting character and really about the only thing that we know about her own personal life is that she's dying and that she may had been having an affair with the president. She used to be a school teacher, then entered Politics (and interestingly doesn't really care for Politics) Yet becomes the secretary of education then by some fluke (or destiny) she becomes President of whats left of the human race.  

Many of the characters resist her taking over as a leader. She's seen being put down as 'just a school teacher'. A favorite scene of mine from the miniseries is the one where Doral seeks out Lee and attempts to put him in charge. Lee later realizing what's going on and says...

He's got no qualms about it, seeing just how much she's got things under control. I love that.

Also again when Doral still has a bug up his ass and questions Laura himself. "Well just who put you in charge." 

Laura's smart ass answer back to him... "Well no one."

Laura may be many things but lacking a sense of humor is not one of them. Another thing that Laura has to deal with, one of the very first things she has to do as President. Is the decision to abandon all of the ships without FTL drives. Was it the right thing to do? Yes. But in the world of BSG (and the real world) there are consequences for actions. And that's something that I always loved about this show. There were never afraid to show the ugly side of things. Things were not always nice and neat and easy.

Laura and Lee This is the very very beginning of their Mentor/Mentee/Parental relationship. Along with maybe a bit of idol worshiping on Lee's part. I think maybe a bit of what (initinally) brings the two of them together is probably their resistance to Bill's way of doing things. 

With Laura telling Lee she knew exactly who he was and insisting on calling him Captain Apollo. I really love that because she's trying to push him to step outside of his father's shadow. For him to figure out who he is and what he really wants out of life. To have an identity other than Bill Adama's son. That really draws him to her, as another strong figure in his life. And a mother figure if you will, one that he was probably lacking for such a long time. Someone who wasn't afraid to challenge his father's views. Ones that he doesn't always agree on.

Laura and Bill, the mother and father of the human race.

Two very different forces at work, with two very different ways of thinking.

This is a wonderful scene and it’s so very important. Because we get some information how they function as leaders and how they will function in the future as leaders. 

As Bill enters, Billy gets up to leave. Laura makes a point of telling Billy to stay and finish his report. I love it so much because it’s Laura exercising her authority/dominance. She’s telling Bill here that she has power and that she’s the one in charge. It’s such a great power move. Although he doesn’t really acknowledge it and he makes it clear when he calls her Miss Roslin instead of Madam President. 

This is also the start of their relationship, and what happens here will become a staple in that relationship. It becomes clear here that Laura is a realist and Bill is an idealist. She flat out tells him that the war is over we lost now we have to pick up the pieces of what’s left of our civilization and start again. While Bill is blinded by his emotions and holds out hope for defeating the enemy. And while it doesn’t sink in for him yet...he will later change (rather interestingly) his mind.

I find it interesting in that even though he didn’t at first think that she was right. And despite their differences she still (even this early in their relationship) has the power to get through to him. Adama is stubborn AF, so that’s no small feat. 

I love that bit of when Bill is in the CIC with Saul, Gaeta and Lee. And he watches Bill with Dee and suddenly out of no where he says

Saul's reaction is perfect...like wait what!?

I also love the last scene between the two of them when Laura confronts Bill about the nature of Earth. She's smart and uses it to her advantage to push the importance of having a government outside of the military. I'll keep your secret if you recognize my position in the government. 

I love that handshake between the two of them. Their body language speaks volumes, It couldn't be anymore unenthusiastic. It's so limp wrist-ed. Look how far away both of them stand so far apart from one another. 

Costuming...on a shallow note

Let's talk about Laura's costume in the miniseries and how much I hate it... One of the things that I didn't care for in the miniseries was Laura's wardrobe. I don't think that it really fits the character and I'm very glad that they decided to fix that for the series. For one thing, the majority of the wardrobe on this show is dark. Mostly dark grey, dark blue, dark green so for her to have in a mostly purple based wardrobe really doesn't fit the nature of the show. 

Going back to that first point I don't think that it fits Laura's character. Laura is a very feminine woman but it's not in her nature to stand out in a crowd. Purple is certainly a color that would make her stand out. So I'm glad that they scale that back and put her in mostly blacks. grays and dark blues with the occasional color.

Grandma Laura, Like seriously what were they thinking putting her into this monstrosity of a costume!? Them dainty old lady ruffles, does not say serious politician.

What is with the cut of this jacket? And the shirt underneath. ugh. just no. That jacket is so ill fitting.

How am I watching...

On another note...I want to talk a bit about where I got my copy of BSG. That would be one of my favorite stores. Amazon

This is the one that I bought: The complete Series

Which looks like this...it’s a pretty small box. Much smaller than I had thought looking at the pictures. It’s not that much larger than the length of my hand.

Here is all of the blurays that it contains along with a little bookelet. Which tells you everything that’s in the set.

Now as I was doing some research into which bluray set to get. There is a lot...

There is this one: The Complete Series and there is also this one: The Ultimate Collection and the one that I bought: The Complete Series. I wasn’t really able to find out a whole lot of difference between the two different “Complete Series” sets. Other than “The Plan” is missing from my set, the price is very different my set: $36 USD verses $115 USD. And my set is from the UK and I found that it did work with my US bluray player.

What does my set include? 

Commentaries, some of which are RDM’s podcast commentaries and almost every episode includes a commentary of some kind. Deleted Scenes for almost every episode, several behind the scenes featurettes. As well as something called u control. Which is a lovely little feature that has some popup information about the characters and other things. Now I haven’t watched all of the extras I’m watching everything as I go along through the series. It includes Razor (aired version and unaired version) along with extended versions of all of the different episodes that had extended versions.

For only 36 USD it sounds too good to be true but I had to think that it was missing “The Plan” (which is not a deal breaker for me as I didn’t really care for The Plan) and the show has been off the air for close to 10 years now. So yes I would recommend getting yourself this boxset if you don’t already have it on bluray. 

[thedailychalkboard]

Stage Fright

In his play ‘As You Like It’ William Shakespeare penned these famous words; “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”  Such a profound statement, yet it isn’t given the widespread attention I believe it so dearly deserves as a valid analogy that carries such meaning for society today. Shakespeare was one wise dude and that’s why his words are still with us, and studied, to this day.

Lest you grow weary that I should be quoting the Bard, and wonder too soon where this will lead, it may help you to know that I was born and raised in a town whose claim to fame is having one of the world’s leading Shakespeare companies. Sadly it was many years before I could fully appreciate the magic of the written word to shape the opinion and thoughts of communities, societies, and even whole nations.

My upbringing was what can only be described as lower middle class frequently dipping into the upper reaches of the lower class. I mention this simply to inform your understanding and to put into context my personal experience. Like it or not each of us is the product of our respective environments even as we may try desperately to deny or escape them. Born of parents who worked at physically exhausting, repetitious manual labor, I grew up understanding what hard work is. I also knew from an early age that I wanted something more than what I observed around me.

I was raised in a household with parents who wouldn’t be considered well educated by today’s standards. My father didn’t graduate High School choosing instead to join the service during the Korean Conflict. Hard work and financial struggle, replete with its inevitable mental and physical stress and strain, were no strangers to our home. It visited often. My father was a dreamer and a doer. He was always seeking to make a way in the world that would bring fame and fortune to our doorstep. Some fleeting successes were followed by failures of greater duration. Most were brought on by a poor understanding of how to properly invest and gain financial traction while resisting the temptation to overspend. These episodes became increasingly difficult to recover from. My parents made due the best they knew how. Knowledge can be a powerful force to be reckoned with

I grew up sheltered from many things in life. Among these was a strong, loving base of family support and strong, meaningful friendships. Both were foreign to me.  I suspect some of you reading this may be able to relate to what I am telling you. What I ask is that you don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t want your pity I want your attention. I want you to understand how a life lived on the very edge of success and failure, constantly blown, like the gossamer seeds of a dandelion plant, between what is considered to be the economic right and wrong side of the tracks, can shape a person’s perception and actions.

My dad was excessively overbearing and had difficulty showing emotional or physical love to myself and my younger sister. Mom pretty much went along with what dad said and did. I understand. It made things easier for her. Discipline for us kids was meted out in a corporal manner. It was often given without a full understanding of what had happened and why. We would find ourselves being punished for things we didn’t do. My dad liked to yell and to use a thin leather strap to set us straight. He didn’t drink and didn’t have vices of the type usually associated with abusive family life. No, this was a more hidden and subtle form of abuse that denied a child their natural desire to be curious, explore, discover, share and belong and to be heard. It felt incredibly oppressive at times. I find myself wondering why this was. My father was certainly not raised in an atmosphere of denial. What turned the tide in his life to such an extent that his children suffered, not so much from the physical abuse, but the emotional and mental abuse of being denied the life of a normal child? But such was life for us.

Growing up in a town where cultural and creative things abounded, yet having a family that didn’t participate in such things is to me the ultimate abuse of a young mind. Not even considering the free concerts, local music and theatrical events, we weren’t allowed to participate in activities and organizations that our schoolmates or neighborhood acquaintances were involved with. I would have loved to have been a Cub Scout. Fat chance, the answer was always no. I wanted so badly to go to neighbor friends on a weekend to play or camp out in the back yard overnight. “NO.” “But why?” I would ask. “Because I said so”, was the answer my father always gave.

“Because I said so”. In my experiential opinion these are four of the most insidious and useless words in existence when directed at another person, their dreams, desires and curiosity. This empty phrase was one that I not only lived with the duration of my formative years, despising deeply, but the very same phrase I found myself using as I reached adulthood. The apple, unfortunately, hadn’t fallen far from the proverbial tree and I had learned the lesson well.

You may be wondering right now why I’m relating this personal sob story to you. You are right to wonder why but not to think of it as a sob story. The truth is much to the contrary. It illustrates why a strong will, determination to never give up and a passionate desire to overcome negative environmental influences in a person’s life are so important to the happiness of each and every one of us.

I could have turned out much different than I have because of my unconventional upbringing. I endured the mean things kids do like being called names and even ostracized by some of my classmates in grade school. I was called names because I wasn’t allowed to participate in things outside school. Yes, it certainly did hurt and didn’t seem fair at all, until I realized that I was the person who had to determine how my life was going to turn out. Not my dad, my mother, my schoolmates or those who called me names and perceived me as odd. You see I determined when I was about 13 years old that I wasn’t going to be a loser no matter what. I was going to discover what I was good at and pursue it doggedly until I became the best at whatever this was. So what the heck does this have to do with Shakespeare?

The whole world is one gigantic stage and we are controlled by those stage directors who we are forced or allow into our lives to control us. We aren’t alone on this stage, and must take into consideration the roles of others who occupy the stage with us, but ultimately we write our own lines and decide which of the acts we are going to participate in. When we walk on stage at birth every opportunity in the world is available to us. As we act and interact we discover that we must accommodate those other actors on the stage or risk being branded bad players or, even worse, ignored extras. So my question to you is do you perceive yourself as the best player you can be on the world stage, a bad player, or merely a bit player who has a walk on and then departs, soon to be forgotten?

I wrote earlier about the four most insidious and useless words in my opinion being, “because I said so”, and how this phrase was passed down from my father to me. When preparing for our role on this stage of life we sometimes take the wrong directions from either the wrong director or a bad actor. We may not realize this until someone in the audience comes to us and has the guts to ask us one simple question. This is the most fearful and confrontational question you will ever be asked by someone because it means you now have to explain yourself. And this is the stuff that causes anger, misunderstanding, fear and hate. We want to answer “because that’s who I am” or “because I said so”. Those are easy answers and mean we don’t have to think about the question, just continue on as we are. We don’t ask ourselves this question often enough, and I suspect it’s out of fear of what our honest answer will be. The one question that shoots fear straight into the heart of anyone on the stage of life is, “Why?”  Why do you act, think, and feel, react or believe the way you do? Fortunately a near and dear fellow companion, friend and soul mate, who continues to occupy my little part of life’s stage, did ask me this question many years ago. That one question caused me to honestly confront and begin a dialogue with myself. Once I did, and realized how insane saying “because I said so” is, my whole life’s stage began to change.

I suspect that many people on life’s stage, my father included, never stop to contemplate this question of “why” with any serious intent or genuine desire to soul search for the truth. If they were to allow themselves to do so they might just understand what real fear is. To admit that you are wrong and need help and direction from others to correct the flaws in your character is a giant leap forward. It’s a step far too few people exercise their right to take. It’s the ultimate in stage fright for them and they just refuse to go there. That’s when you remain a bit player in life and never progress to a leading role.

 In Hamlet, another of Shakespeare’s more famous plays, there’s a speech by the protagonist about life and coming to the end of its toils. In brief summary Shakespeare writes, “…What dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.”  One can take its meaning as traditionally accepted in its entirety, but when taken out of context from the whole of the speech, I can imagine this small snippet’s meaning to be, ‘what will people think of your performance once you do part your ways with this world? Will your dreams become theirs?’

My encouragement to you is to not fear life, and the hand you’ve been dealt whatever it may be. Face and defeat any misgivings and stage fright you may feel. Take what you’ve been given in talent, interest and passion and create something of wonder.  Never give up, fiercely guard your integrity and be truthful, honest and giving in all you do, even as others refuse to believe in you or understand what you know to be true. Along the way, consistently ask yourself the all important question of “Why”. When you can consistently answer that question without any hint of hesitation or stage fright you are on the right path.  It’s never too late to leave your decisively positive and indelible mark for others who will walk this stage, when you are but a dream to follow and live up to.

#michaeldavis

©2017 Michael D. Davis – All Rights Reserved

[selfrisingflour]

About My Project

  In this post, I will explain my audiovisual project in the following order;

1. My project and aims

2. Broader context of my research

3. Details of compositional process and methodology

1. My project and aims

 In the age of media dominating and interacting with people’s daily lives, it is hard to experience music independently – it is almost always understood in relation to other media, like album covers, music videos, fashion, artists’ image or even fan art. The visual accompaniment helps giving narratives, adding extra meaning and a possible interpretation of the music. It confronts people “with audiovisual situations that are familiar to us from life”, and in that way it is unavoidable for them to respond both physiologically and emotionally.[1] Holly Rogers argues that music videos give recorded music the energy and physicality of live performance.[2] It seems the visual aspects are almost something that makes music – or even its audience – feel more alive. The focus on audiovisual culture seems to be about making something into more real experience. For example, people like to be amazed by power of life through ultra high definition nature/animal documentaries, or in the cinema, surround systems and 3D, or even 4D, are becoming commonplace. Or even “something larger than life”, on that matter, the use of virtual reality technologies which can be seen in Bjork’s music videos like “Notget”, gives the audience a possibility to experience a kind of sublimity, and provides an escape from reality.

    Music is considered something to give life to a piece of media as well; Peter Larsen argues that images of the silent film were thought to be “a ghost-like replica of the world we live in”, and it was the music that lit up “the pale silent images on the screen so that they will stay with us.”[3] This nature of music applies to music videos too; Carol Vernallis argues that it is music that fills in the two-dimentional images that lack elements such as weight, density, and scale.[4]

    If these media is full of life, how, then, can the audiovisual work express quite the opposite concept?

  “枯れる(kareru)” is a Japanese word that is used when something is dying or withering such as flowers, and plants that are drying out, or earth that is short of water (涸れる), when a voice is getting hoarse (嗄れる), or when talent is ruined (枯れる). My fascination with the phenomenon of kareru is for a rather autoethnographic reason. The motive behind my fascination is mainly for two reasons;

 Firstly, I am afraid of time passing by. I feel like my power, advantage, and freedom are going to be taken away and my youth is fading more and more each day. I fear that sense of loss. It’s almost like being afraid of death. 

 Secondly, I have anxiety over the impermanence of being. Since I have started to live alone and abroad, separated from my family and friends, this fear has only got more intense. Especially in 2016, that feeling was strong because of mass shooting, terrorism and that many musicians and icons I looked up to passed away, I am in terror and awe at the vulnerability and mortality of human beings. I have been avoiding confronting it, but those experiences make me want to think about it through creative work.

 For those reasons, the concept of “枯れる (kareru)” is resonant with my mentality. This word has so much meaning yet it is difficult to translate in another language. My question is how the relation of music and images can express “kareru”, and my goal is to do it without needing to directly explain in English words, and examine how this quiet decay has been expressed in both Western and Eastern society.

[1] John Richardson, et al., eds. The Oxford handbook of new audiovisual aesthetics. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 6

[2] Holly Rogers, Visualising music: audio-visual relationships in Avant-Garde film and video art. (Saarbrucken: Lambert Academic Publishing, 2010), 42

[3] Peter Larsen, Film music. Trans., by John Irons. (London: Reaktion, 2007),188

[4] Carol Vernallis, Experiencing music video: aesthetics and cultural context. (New York: Columbia University Press 2004), 105

2. Broader context of my research

The first step in the process would be to investigate the relationship between music and images. Carol Vernallis describes that a music video is like “a laboratory where relations among music, image, and text could be tested.”[1] She suggests that it would be useful to think “music video’s mise-en-scene as separate tracks on a recording engineer’s mixing board”[2]; a music video has flexibility that “any element or combination of elements can be brought forward or become submerged in the mix.”[3]

   Walter Ong argues that

“Sight isolates, sound incorporates. Whereas sight situates the observer outside what he views, at a distance, sounds pours into the hearer. Vision dissects… When I hear, however, … I am at the center of my auditory world, which envelopes me, establishing me at a kind of core of sensation and existence…”[4]

According to him, how human beings perceive through eyes and ears is fundamentally different; the visual ideal is typically clarity, whereas the auditory ideal is unifying harmony. Vernallis makes an interesting argument for the difference between the act of seeing and hearing. She claims that people perceive images as something like grammatical nouns; something that can be owned and earned. [5] Images have strong specificity of objects; they “can be described with great linguistic accuracy.”[6] In contrast to images, sound is like a verb or adjectival form because it is often a process or an action of an object. It would be more ambiguous to define sounds with linguistic term, and whether sound is something can be owned is still controversial. Sound is a process; it begins and ends. Objects are generally static and its existence is more non-transforming than sound. Kareru is exactly a process of the object “that begins and ends.” Kareru is a verb in Japanese and in order to express the process, it might be appropriate for it to be represented in audiovisual media, like a noun (sight) and a verb (sound) complete a sentence.

  Vernallis argues that music videos does not provide complete narratives but rather give units of stories fragmentarily or episodically for several reason. It is difficult to present fleshed out stories like in a film partly because music videos usually have many roles to achieve such as “showcasing the star, reflecting the lyrics, and underscoring the music.”[7] Also music videos often lack enough details about place, time, and characters to let audience fully understand the narrative.[8]

   The need for the structure of a music video to follow the song form also makes it difficult for the creators of the music video to provide narratives like a film does. David Fincher, a film director who also shoots music videos says that he quickly abandoned the approach that aims to tell a straight stories but rather on that create several segments instead. [9] Holly Rogers argues that a music video can be considered as inversion of the relationship between film and film music, since music comes first in music video when creating a music video whereas film music is often scored during the post-production.[10] In other words, “the image interprets the music” in a music video, whereas in film music the images have denotative function and the music connotes image’s context.[11] Since kareru is a usually slow, almost timeless but immortal process, in this project a sense of time and movement of the work should be the music.

[1]Vernallis, Experiencing music video, introduction

[2]Ibid., x

[3]Ibid.

[4]Walter J Ong, Orality and literacy: the technologizing of the word. (London: Routledge, 2002), 32

[5]Vernallis, Experiencing music video, 176

[6]Ibid.

[7]Ibid., 4

[8]Ibid.,15

[9]Ibid.,

[10]Rogers, Visualising music, 41

[11] Vernallis, Experiencing music video, 195

3. Details of compositional process and methodology

 There is quite a few elements in music video such as characters, settings, spaces, textures, and colours. In this article, I am going to focus objects.    Objects in music video can possess meaning that other elements like characters, lyrics, music cannot without interfering with the flow of the audiovisual work. The object can carry “a set of culturally determined meanings, values, and uses.”[1] Holly Rogers argues that images not only embody music with physicality but also enables music to construct an alternative world.[2] Music videos rarely present unedited live performance but have its own world and because of that it can be complicated to understand the relations between the sound, image, and lyrics. In such a situation, it is crucial to understand the metaphor of objects as semiotic index.    In the sixteenth and seventeenth century in Flanders and the Netherland, a genre of still-life painting, ‘vanitas’ emerged. It is derived from the Latin word, vanus, meaning empty and vain. It symbolizes worthlessness of earthly pursuits and the inevitable passing of time, and is also considered as a reminder of self-introspection; “how priviledged you may be in this life, humility was the key to your entry into the next”.[3] Painters combined emblematic organic motifs that signify mortality and decay, such as skulls, flowers, animal carcasses or fruits with everyday or precious objects like hourglasses, candles and musical instruments.[4] This kind of spiritual contemplation is also prevalent in other art forms such as Cadaver tomb/Transi, and crafts like watch cases. The most famous one would be Mary Queen of Scot’s skull watch which has four Latin memento mori inscription: “vita fugitur (life is fleeting)”, “caduca despice (look down upon a fallen thing)”, “aesterna respice (look upon eternity)”, and “incerta hora (the hour [of death] is uncertain)”.[5]    Interestingly enough, seventeenth century Japan has the similar state of mind towards the world, “浮世 (Ukiyo)”. Literal translation would be “floating world”, and it is said to be the homophone of “憂き世”, meaning sorrowful world. The Buddhist philosophy was largely entrenched all over the country, and this culture of the Floating World foregrounded inevitable vicissitudes of the world and the transient nature of our existences. Due to its “cognitive condition of being apart from ‘fixed’ world of daily life and duty”[6], the urban life style of Edo period was considered to be a kind of epicureanism that people should enjoy life even if it is vain to do so. An American band, Nine Inch Nails used vanitas aesthetics in rather graphic and explicit context in the style of super 8mm film.

The objects like shells, skulls, maroon drapes, insects, animal heads can be seen in the video, and the lead vocalist, Trent Reznor is presented as a skull in the setting of still-life painting. This proves that objects in music video are utilized to make viewers understand references or metaphors without interfering with the music, lyrics, and the sequence of images. Although the video shows a striking contrast between life and death like vanitas paintings do, vanitas element seems to be exploited mainly as the agony of living; Life represented by crucifixion of the monkey and agonizing insects is quite disturbing. The main focus of the video is not ephemerality of time or transience of earthly pleasures, and certainly not the process of slow quiet decay, kareru. The audiovisual works which focus on this subject are not quite prevalent.  

 This is an alarming TV commercial about global warming, not music video, but it does express this process audiovisually. It shows green leaves in the shape of a human and a dog, in sunny weather with peaceful music, but soon followed by them dying rapidly whilst the pitch of music goes down. The music and the images are moving in synchronization to tell the story efficiently, with little words in such a short duration. If one attempted to explain what this adverts tries to tell, it would have been lengthy and not quite as effective – this efficiency and expressiveness is my aim.   The process of decay or withering is not a common theme for music, but death is. Music has been used for resting the souls of deceased people in the form of Requiem. Death is also often a significant element for many operas; Henry Purcell’s Dido’s lament is a beautiful example of it.   I chose to use sound recorded by field recording as a methodology of the composition since noise is fundamental within life. John Cage said that “Wherever we are, what we hear is mostly noise”.[7] That means as long as we live, we cannot escape from noise. Jacques Attali, too, insists that “life is full of noise and […] death alone is silent: work of noise, noise of man, noise of beast”.[8] Thus so far I recorded sounds which evoke sense of life and death, such as heartbeat sounds by contact microphone, breathing sound of a sleeping person, and a singing bowl, because in Japan it is used at Buddhist funerals and one was placed on my grandfather’s altar. My goal is to create an aural collection of everyday sounds and noise like vanitas paintings did visually with everyday objects. Music is volatile; it symbolizes life and death at the same time. It is used to give other media life but is also essentially ephemeral, as it has its end without exception in most of cases. But what about the process in between that is quiet decay? To express that is my aim.

[1] Vernallis, Experiencing music video, 99

[2] Rogers, Visualising music, 42

[3] Joe La Placa, et al., Vanitas: the transience of earthly pleasures. (London: AVA All Visual Arts, 2011), 7

[4] Ibid., 10

[5] British Museum Collection Online watch-case, Accessed 7 Feb, 2017

[6] Timon Screech, Sex and the floating world: erotic images in Japan, 1700-1820. (Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press, 1999), 10

[7] John Cage, John Cage: an anthology. ed. Richard Kostelanetz. (New York, NY: Da Capo Press, 1991), 54

[8] Jacques Attali, Noise: the political economy of music. (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1985), 3