#there's so little content regarding the miserable tragic last moments of their lives

[llondonfog]

ah let's not forget on this twst mother's day that princess leia most likely died protecting her only son and her name and sacrifice has been lost to history

[chaosenticed-blog]

                      greetings  angels ! i’m  steven,  going  by  she/her  pronouns  and  miserably  lodged  in  the  pst  timezone,  also  currently  known  as  the  devil’s  taint  thanks  to  this  heatwave !  super  fun  !  pls  bear  with  me  ,  i’ll  be  up  everyone’s  asses  for  plots  with  my  lil  dudebro  shithead  𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖆𝖘  ,  he’s  a  new  muse  of  mine  i’ve  conjured  up  bc  ethan  is  just  too  good  looking  to  not  utilize  ?  i’ll  keep  this  short  so  we  can  pull  a  queen  carly  rae  and  cut  to  the  feeling  ~

❛ chicago’s very own  𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖆𝖘  𝖉𝖎  𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖉𝖎 has been spotted in new york city in his jeep wrangler blackhawk , welcome ! your resemblance to  ethan dolan is unreal. according to tmz, you just had your twentieth birthday bash. your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 , but being 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 might help you. i guess being a taurus explains that. three things that would paint a better picture of you would be 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘  𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋  𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐒,  𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃  𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍  𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒  𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄  𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓  𝐈𝐍  𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃,  𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏  𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇  𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃  𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒  𝐀𝐍𝐃  𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐒  𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃. & ( cismale & he / him / his )

aesthetic :  

playing  guitar  barefooted  in  a  hammock,  sun  kissed  skin  and  a  half-kept  beard,  knowing  all  the  vegan  options  at  the  city’s  boujiest  restaurants,  a  crooked  grin  saved  for  whoever  he  can  tell  needs  it  most,  overthinking  his  next  move  even  if  it  seems  completely  organic,  a  boyish  laugh  at  the  most  asinine  pranks,  c-’s littering  his  transcript ( except  the  a  earned  in  environmental  science,  his  elective  of  choice ),  calling  instead  of  texting  because  texting  “ loses  the  humanity, ”  casual  nights  spent  oversized  hoodies,  yellow  checkered  vans,  shorts  with  a  60-day  chip  in  the  left  pocket,  yelling  out  species  of  trees  passing  by  over  thumping  bass  beats  on  a  road  trip,  sweat  on  designer-clothed  skin  like  glitter,  doing  head  counts  of  “the  squad”  over  and  over  in  the  rear  view  mirror  on  the  way  home  from  a  rager,  random  stupid  tattoos  done “ for  the  memory, ”  intricate  handshakes  performed  with  ease.  acting  like  you  don’t  care,  but  you  do— god  you  do,  sometimes  so  much  it  consumes  you  whole.

inspired  by  :

jim  halpert from  the  office,  jackson  maine  from  a  star  is  born,  jim  hawkins  from  treasure  planet,  jackson  avery  and  owen  hunt from  grey’s  anatomy.

history :

born  to  a  major  chicago  councilman   father  and  a  ceo  mother,  the  middle  of  three  boys,  silas  found  himself  drawn  outside  until  the  sun  came  down,  connecting  to  whatever  the  earth  was  able  to  give  him  in  the  inhospitable  chicago  weather .  he’d  wander  aimlessly  for  hours,  guiding  his  twin  and  their  older  brother  through  the  trails  he  made  himself .  his  home  wherever  he  could  make  it  —  the  branches  of  creaking  trees at  the  park ,  the  caverns  of  frosted  caves ,  he  learned  to  be  content  with  the  little  things ,  humble  and  rooted  firmly  in  his  beliefs  of  morality  and  logic .  

it  was  never  exactly  fun  to  play  the  role  of  the  son  in  the  limelight,  eyes  on  his  family  whenever  his  parents  where  on  a  particularly  tricky  trip .  his  eldest  brother,  julien,  was  a  parent’s  dream  and  easily  took  up  a  political  career  without  any  complications .  balancing  in  the  shadow  of  his  eldest  brother  and  the  push  of  his  twin ,  silas  kept  his  own  hopes  and  dreams  on  the  back  burner ,  prioritizing  a  family  name  before  his  own  desires ( and  thus ,  the  apparition  begins. )

he  knows  the  eyes  are  on  him  to  carry  on  the  family  legacy ,  and  does  the  bare  minimum  possible  to  keep  his  uptight  parents  off  his  back .  he  went  to  the  private  schools ,  played  the  big  name  sports ,  mingled  with  the  a-listers .  he  fills  the  role  to  please  his  family  and  keep  the  peace ,  but  once  the  light  comes  off  him ,  he  pushes  off  against  the  prim  and  proper  upbringing  and  finds  his  own  stride .  though  he  takes  the  classes  and  attends  the  conferences  to  make  his  father  think  he’s  prime  for  having  his  name  in  the  news ,  silas  could  not  be  bothered  to  carry  the  illusion  on  into  the  rest  of  his  life .  nights  are  spent  at  raves ,  hiking  canyons  off  the  grid ,  indulging  himself .

yet  all  this  time  spent  trying  to  fit  into  a  future  he  never  asked  for  folded  over  on  him ,  as  one  would  readily  expect .  the  beginning  of  his  freshman  year ,  it  was  exposed  that  his  father  had  carried  on  with  an  affair  nearly  two  decades  ago  and  kept  it  secret  until  now ,  resulting  in  a  half-sister  close  to  his  age  and  an  onslaught  of  media  attention  on  his  once-pristine  family . now  ,  his  father  remaining  in  chicago  and  his  mother  moving  to  new  york  to  helm  her  medical  cosmetics  business  with  a  renewed  vigor  ,  silas  chooses  to  make  the  jump  to  new  york  wit  his  mom  .  to  his  chagrin  ,  she  notes  a  political  run  in  her  future  that  puts  silas  on  edge  ,  forcing  him  to  really  come  to  terms  with  living  the  life  his  family  will  forever  ask  of  him  .

never  one  to  particularly  enjoy  attention,  the  added  pressure  of  trying  to  repair  his  family’s  reputation ( and  keep  mum  on  the  bitter  divide  caused  within  his  family ) drove  him  to  a  point  where  anything  he  could  use  to  escape  would  become  a  viable  option .  smiling  for  cameras  and  keeping  up  appearances  in  public  led  to  binge  drinking  and  benders  galore  in  private ,  ultimately  ending  with  his  twin  brother  hauling  him  to  the  emergency  room  after  a  particularly  brutal  night .  a  stint  in  rehab  this  last  summer  ( explained  as  “ humanitarian  work  in  the  middle  east ”  ) led  to  silas’  newfound  perspective  on  life—  struggling  every  day  to  keep  in  mind  who  he  is,  and  who  he  feels  he  has  to  be  for  the  world .

personality :

silas’  upbringing  has  been  rocky  to  say  the  LEAST,  and  despite  half  the  shit  he’s  gone  through  he’s  managed  to  keep  a  pretty  solid  head  on  his  shoulders  ?

i’ve  been  playing  emo  broody  boys  so  often  i  wanted  to  switch  it  up  and  lowkey ? silas  is  a  breath  of  fresh  air  okay .  he’s  your  quintessential  frat  bro  but  with ~layers~ and  none  of  the  tragic  manic  pixie  dream  boy .  he  comes  across  as  a  reserved  and  non-talkative  kind  of  guy,  stoic  at  first  meeting,  but  with  time  and  comfort  people  find  he’s  really  just  a  cool  laid-back  dude .  he’s  the  dad  friend  of  the  group  and  spends  as  much  time  caring  for  others  as  he  can  possibly  allow  between  his  totally  booked  schedule  of  pretending  to  be  a  preppy  boy  and  literally  not  giving  a  shit  about  most  things.

he  loves  nature  and  hiking  and  being  outside  just  as  much  as  he  loves  a  good  party ,  which  is  where  festivals  and  the  rave  scene  come  into  play .  he  loves  sharing  good  energy  with  the  people  around  him  and  tries  to  keep  the  peace  within  his  circles.  silas  has  a  genuinely  kind  and  benevolent  heart ,  one  he  doesn’t  expose  readily  but  also  doesn’t  ignore .  he  uses  humor  and  quiet  observations  of  others  to  keep  himself  ahead  of  the  loop,  even  if  his  generally  bro-ish  personality  leads  people  to  believe  he’s  inattentive  or  ignorant .  he’s  responsible  and  mature  and  deeply  intelligent,  but  most  of  all,  has  common  sense  and  doesn’t  let  a  decision  be  made  without  weighing  the  pros  and  cons .

( for  the  most  part . )

silas  has  forever  been  recognized  as  inheriting  his  father’s  impulsivity ,  a  trait  he  absolutely  fears  after  seeing  the  terror  it  wreaked  on  his  family .  he  pushes  himself  to  be  smart  and  rational,  trying  to  see  the  logic in  all  things ,  and  tries  to  be  as  disciplined  as  he  can  manage .  when  other  factors  come  into  the  equation  though ,  he  struggles  to  keep  up  his  resolve  and  will  easily  lose  himself  in  the  moment .  he  has  an  addictive  and  ultimately  reckless  personality ,  which  led  to  his  addiction  and  consequential  rehabilitation .  he  tries  to  minimize  the  time  he  spends  with  people  that  may  lead  him  down  a  path  he  doesn’t  want  to  go  down ,  but  obviously  not  everything  goes  as  planned .

otherwise ,  silas  is  stubborn  but  considerate  of  others .  he’s  intelligent  and  creative but  very  poorly  motivated ,  mostly  doing  things  for  the  sake  of  his  family  and  letting  little  else  bother  him .  he’s  loyal  and  sensitive  to  the  emotions  of  others ,  but  is  the first  to  call  out  bullshit if  it  surrounds  him .  he’s  almost  painfully  mellow  and  is  notorious  for  not  having  buttons  to  press  lmao .  he  just  doesn’t  let  most  people’s  comments  get  to  him .  he  has  no  issue  in  cutting  out  the  things ( or  people )  he  has  no  interest  in  spending  his  time  on  and  can  come  across  as  a  bit  forward  in  this  regard .  he  can  be  hypocritical  and  overly  complex ,  having  conflicting  feelings  that  he  can’t  explain  or  rationalize  and  lead  to  him  snapping  or  breaking  down .  he’s  deeply  jealous  and  has  a  bad  habit  of  overthinking  and  not  letting  others  bear  his  burden  with  him .  

as  of  now,  silas  isn’t  sure  where  he  wants  to  take  his  future .  very  few  know  about  his  stint  in  rehab,  and  he  explains  his  lack  of  drugs  or  drinking  as  his  preparation  to  be  a  walk-on  for  the wrestling  team at  NYU  where  he  attends ,  as  his  mother  has  been  encouraging  him  to  pursue  in  order  to  build  a  fanbase  base  for  his  future  political  conquests .  currently,  he  does  modeling  for  a  casual  platform  and  represents  certain  brands  he’s  actually  rather  passionate  about .  he’d  LITERALLY  rather  d*e  than  go  into  politics,  and  is  eyeing  a  future  in  environmental  advocacy  or  ambassador  work ,  but  knows  this  is  not  a  future  aligned  with  the  di  grimaldi  legacy .  for  now ,  he  remains  at  a  crossroads ,  living  half  a  life  he  doesn’t  even  recognize ,  just  hoping  it’ll  manage  itself  on  its  own .

connections :

forbidden  ( 0/2 )  —  best  friend’s  gf ?  his  brother’s  ex ?  his  sister’s  best  friend ? basically  i  want  someone  who  silas  wants  but  can’t  have  because  of  another  relationship  that  could  REALLY  put  them  in  a  dangerous  spot  and  potentially  ruin  what  they  have,  but  it’s  all  hidden  glances  and  risky  snapchats  trying  to  gauge  where  the  line  is  and  where  it  can  be  crossed

exes  ( 0/? ) —  gimmie  angst,  gimmie  chill,  gimmie  people  who  mutually  broke  up  and  are  bros,  give  me  people  who  had  a  messy  split  and  it’s  still  touchy,  give  me  people  who  are  “ supposed  to  be  over ”  but  end  up  in  each  other’s  beds  at  the  end  of  every  other  night,  give  me  people  who  fucking  hate  each  other,  this  is  so  versatile  i’ll  take  anything.

“ gucci  shoes,  boy  i  invented  you ”  ( 0/1 )—  a  fake  gf  he  had  for  the  clout,  someone  who  really  helped  him  live  up  to  the  image  his  family  wanted  for  him,  basically  helped  “ make  him ” and  in  the  process,  she  fell  in  love  with  him.  did  he  feel  the  same  way ?  did  he  not  realize  it ? did  he  simply  not  reciprocate ?  either  way,  they  ended  poorly  and  now  she  resents  him  and  thinks  he’s  a  cowardly  piece  of  shit,  since  she’s  seen  the  “ real  him ”  vs  the  him  she  helped  conjure.  lots  of  tension  !

turn  up  team  ( 0/4 )  —  basically  : whos  gonna  go  rave  with  him  ?  he’s  not  gonna  roll  w  them  if  drugs  are  involved  but  he’ll  enjoy  his  adrenaline  high  with  pleasure.  these  are  people  who  aren’t  close  enough  to  him  to  pressure  him  into  doing  drugs  again,  so  he  feels  okay  with  going  out  with  them  since  there’s  little  to  no  risk  he’ll  relapse

squad  (  0/3-4  )  —  i’m  thinking  a  small  group  of  people  who  he’s  just  always  likely  to  be  found  with,  these  are  the  people  who  matter  most  to  him  and  u  can  hella  catch  him  fathering  them  almost  to  an  ANNOYING  extent.  they  get  to  see  the  best ( and  sometimes  the  worst )  of  him,  but  he’d  do  anything  for  his  squad

devil  on  his  shoulder  ( 0/2 )  — this  can  be  as  intentionally  or  unintentionally  toxic  as  u  want,  but  i’m  basically  envisioning  two  people  who  really  tempt  silas  to  risk  it  all.  maybe  they  want  him  to  dive  back  into  the  hedonistic  side  he  has ( he  was  wild  and  lots  of  people  lowkey  hyped  him  up  for  it ) and  it’s  gritty  and  sexy  and  dark.  maybe  this  person  doesn’t  even  realize  they’re  a  trigger  for  him  and  unintentionally  send  him  close  to  the  edge.

sponsors / confidants  ( 0/2 )  —  i’m  envisioning  a  team  of  3  who  have  been  THROUGH  it  with  the  substance  abuse,  maybe  they  stage “ improvised  meetings ” whenever  they  need  to,  maybe  these  are  just  two  people  who  want  to  make  sure  silas  stays  clean  because  they  know  how  badly  he  needs  it  and  how  dangerous  it  would  be  for  him  to  relapse

vlog  squad  ( ? )  —  my  idea  is  that  silas  and  his  twin  brother  are  youtubers,  and  silas  is  a  BIG  paranormal  shit  guy.  it’s  like  the  perfect  intersection  of  talking  about  nature  and  exploration  without  making  him  seem  like  a  hippie  tree-hugger  and  raise  any  objections  from  his  parents,  so  maybe  he  has  like  a  little  group  similar  to  the  vlog  squad  where  they  share  a  channel  and  they  have  a  small  following?

i’m  putting  in  a  wc  for  his twin  brother  and  his  half-sister so  peep  THOSE

sibling-like  friendship,  booty  calls,  hookups,  people  he’s  in  a  club  on  campus  with,  childhood  friends,  maybe  a  penpal  he  had  after  moving  around  from  place  to  place ?

please  literally  give  me  anything  that  makes  me  smile  or  suffer ?  and  all  in  between .  muah  lov  u  all  can’t  wait  to  rp  !

[overthinkingkdrama]

Exit Rant: Mr. Sunshine

[This is intended to be a spoiler free review of Mr. Sunshine but it may include a few minor spoilers throughout. It’s also long as all hell. Enjoy.]

Wow, here I am with my Mr. Sunshine review and it's only...*looks at wrist despite not wearing a watch* nearly three months after the final episode aired. Totally in keeping with this blog's commitment to publishing consistent and relevant content *manic laughter*.

The truth is, even if it hadn't been bad timing schedule-wise, Mr. Sunshine was going to be a difficult drama for me to review. This drama has so much to recommend it in terms of beautiful production, epic scope, unique period setting and blockbuster cast. There is something conceptually mesmerizing about Mr. Sunshine that engaged my basest fangirl and aesthetic sensibilities, but the actual experience of watching the episodes does not live up all the premise promises. What Mr. Sunshine delivers as a drama is, paradoxically, less than the sum of it's parts.

Let's focus on the positive first.

The cast in this drama is god-tier. You're rarely going to find an ensemble cast like this outside of Chungmuro. Your first, second and third leads all can and have headlined films and dramas of their own, and a lot of the stars here (like Kim Tae Ri of The Handmaiden fame) have critically acclaimed film pedigrees.

There's a lot to say about the actors and the performances, and there's no way I'm going to get to all of it. The extended cast is large and exceptionally great, and I'm not going to be able to remember and talk about everyone by name, so I'm going to have to limit myself to the main cast.

It's really the cast that moves heaven and earth to make this script work. To the degree that sometimes it felt that each actor lived in their character and lent flesh and texture where the writing let us down. Kim Tae Ri, played Ae Shin with so much fierceness and unshakable dignity that I couldn't stop cheering for her, even when the plot sidelined her character for what felt like episodes at a time.

For many people, the rousing showstopper performance of the drama was Yoo Yeon Seok as Gu Dong Mae. Early in the life cycle of the drama I recall hearing that Kim Eun Sook got herself embroiled in some controversy because people felt that the Japanese-sympathizer Dong Mae was far too likable considering his political ideology. Some hasty shuffling was done and rather than being characterized as a bald-faced fascist, Dong Mae became more of a freewheeling mercenary gangster-type. This was a positive change in my opinion. I don't want to retread what has already been said (a lot of it by me) about Dong Mae, but YYS has never been and may never be as interesting or as sexy as he was in Mr. Sunshine, in my opinion. He plays the morally grey character with edge and blazing charisma and, if nothing else does, makes the drama worth checking out.

Information broker and enigmatic owner of the Glory Hotel, Kudo Hina, as portrayed by Kim Min Jung and (my personal favorite) and the soulful Hui Seong, born into a blood-soaked privilege he can't escape, played by Byun Yo Han, wonderfully round out the cast and are, if anything, tragic underutilized by the plot. The only person here who perhaps underwhelms is Lee Byung Hun as the titular main character. I don't have strong feelings about him as an actor or as a person one way or the other. I've enjoyed some movies he's been a part of. I do feel that visually he looks too old for baby-faced Kim Tae Ri, but I'm almost used to that kind of thing in Dramaland. His performance is perhaps meant to be restrained--nigh on repressed--but it comes off as a bit bland and wooden. Which isn’t to say he’s bad, and I feel Eugene had a lot of potential to be a very interesting character just...decidedly less interesting than everyone else.

A lot of praise has been heaped on the way this drama looks, and I will agree, it’s a very pretty show. Personally, I disliked how heavily color graded certain scenes, especially outdoor scenes were. I found it a bit distracting and it took away from how otherwise gorgeous some of the scenery in this is when the sky is tan or everything in a scene is tinted blue for some reason. But the production deserves a lot of credit for creating a full and lived in feeling world, for the beauty of the sets and the costumes, the sheer attention to detail, and the way they used all four seasons to set the tone and give you a sense of the passage of time.

And let me just state that during Mr. Sunshine’s run I was decidedly obsessed with it. I posted about it, I talked about it to my friends, I talked several of those friends into watching it with me...and a few of those people still speak to me to this day. When I start criticizing it here in a few seconds, know that doesn’t mean I didn’t get a lot of hours of enjoyment out of this drama or that I think I’m too good for this show. I’ve seen 4 of Kim Eun Sook’s dramas so far and this is easily the best one. It’s not just better than Goblin, DOTS and Heirs, it’s miles better. Is that everything? I think that about covers it.

Now for the bad stuff...

I’ve said this in the past in relation to Goblin, but it bears repeating: Kim Eun Sook is good--possibly even great--at creating singular, iconic story moments and absolute rubbish at developing a cohesive plot that builds tension over multiple episodes and pays off in a logical way. At the time I said it I was basing it off of relatively little experience with her writing, but I’ve seen the pattern repeat itself two more times since then and I’m increasingly convinced that I’m a genius.

I do believe there are extenuating factors that account for the poor pacing of her dramas. The number of episodes and the episode length might not be within Kim Eun Sook’s control and she’s not responsible for poor editing either. Both Goblin and Mr. Sunshine suffer a lot because of bloated run time, and maybe that’s the network’s fault but it leaves plot feeling thin in places, even like it’s futilely spinning it’s wheels waiting for the next important event to come along.

With Mr. Sunshine the issue wasn’t even that there wasn’t enough interesting plot or character backstories to fill 24, hour plus episodes, possibly even more, it was that at times it felt like the drama flatly refused to delve into the interesting details, preferring to leave us miserably treading water in the doldrums of the story. It felt like we had to beg and wait for even morsels of backstory about certain characters--the drama was especially mum regarding Kuda Hina’s history--while the two leads endlessly mooned over one another. How many scenes did we need to watch Eugene and Ae Shin soulfully stare at one another?

Mr. Sunshine never successfully builds momentum until the last 2 or 3 episodes of the run. And while there is a lot of lip service paid to guns and glory and sad endings, but much of the drama feels like it's milling around with hands in pockets waiting for the tragic curtain call. Even the badass sniper heroine is frequently sidelined. It feels like the story remains stubbornly in the set up phase, one step forward and two steps back. It's as though Kim Eun Sook has all of these wonderful toys--great characters, huge budget, interesting time period/setting--and she simply doesn't know what to do with them.

Consistently my frustration with Mr. Sunshine was its inability to effectively incorporate the extended cast into the plot. It feels like all characters exist in separate bubbles waiting for their turn to have a scene. Those scenes are interesting but maddeningly brief, and then they are shuffled backstage once again until it's once again time for their requisite 5-10 minutes of screen time per episode. 

This problem is especially present in the main cast with Dong Mae, Hina and Hui Seong. And that is what is so deeply exasperating about this drama, because there is just enough good peppered in to keep me invested, so many great elements poorly employed. It makes one want to take KES's script away from her and take it home and fix it yourself, because you just know she's not treating it right.

When calamity comes, and it does, it feels disproportionate and somewhat unsatisfying, because the build up didn’t do it justice. The drama ends with a rousing crescendo, but it feels that the individual character arcs were never allowed to reach their full potential. I’m not one to shy away from tragedy, but it left me feeling rather empty.

I wish I could a finer point on it than that, but it’s a murky issue to me. I know I’m not connecting with the story as much as I want to, but it’s hard to put my finger on the exact reason and that just adds to my frustration with it.

I stand by my assertion that this is still the best KES drama I have watched. Thought admittedly I’ve still only seen 4 of them, this one shows the most promise and, I think, the most growth. But it’s not there yet. I don’t know if I could ever watch it again, but I’m glad I watched it once. If for nothing else for the fantastic performances of several old and new favorites. I give Mr. Sunshine an 8.5/10, which is probably too high considering everything I’ve said about it up to this point. However, it’s just too strong in terms of overall production and cast for me to feel good about rating it any lower.

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 287: Daughters Hell Songs

Very few “heavy” bands truly live up to the misanthropy they project through their music. But Daughters were different. Over the course of a U.S. tour together, I got to know the guys in the band pretty well, and they were a rare instance where their personalities were as fucked up as their music. Don’t get me wrong---they were all great people. But there was something inherently damaged in their chemistry. They were barely functional as a unit, but that made their music seem all the more dangerous.

A year or two after that tour, Continuum Books announced open submissions for their 33 1/3 book series, wherein authors analyze classic albums and assess their cultural impact. I knew I didn’t stand a chance, but I pitched a book on Hell Songs. My thesis was pretty basic: heavy music is typically just theater, but Daughters was real life drama, and that made their music that much more intense. As per their submission guidelines, I wrote an opening chapter. The pitch was rejected, but I wound up posting the chapter online, where it caught the attention of Robotic Empire, the label that put out Daughters’ debut LP. They offered to print the book. And so for the next year-and-a-half I dedicated all my spare time to questioning the individual band members, chasing down old tour mates, stitching together the chronology of their history, reading old interviews, and writing the damn thing. I submitted a first draft to the band and waited two weeks to hear back from them.

They eventually asked to cancel the project. There were disagreements within their camp as to how shit actually went down. And, understandably, there were a lot of grimy details that they weren’t too excited to share publicly. It was disappointing, but understandable. I figured a certain amount of rejection is inevitable as a writer, and this one at least had a valid excuse, so there wasn’t much of a sting.

Anyhow, I’ve posted the first chapter after the jump. The writing seems a little corny now, so maybe I ultimately dodged a bullet.

“Yeah, I’ve been called a sinner...”

And so begins Daughter’s 2006 sophomore album Hell Songs--with a declaration of degradation. Vocalist Alexis S.F. Marshall, or Lex for short, wears the insult proudly, announcing it with the kind of defiant pride of Hester Prynne and her scarlet letter. And then a cascade of noise descends upon the final syllable. The song, “Daughters Spelled Wrong”, is one minute and 42 seconds of Lex’s self-flagellations delivered in a slurred Southern Baptist preacher’s drawl. In that short parcel of time, Lex lists off every slanderous label he’s endured.

“…wrong-doer, evil-doer…”

As the front man for Daughters, Lex was the human element to the band. And while his performance on Hell Songsis unnerving enough in its own right, his tirades became exponentially more menacing live. With his stringy waist-long hair, his tall and gangly frame, his wiry handle-bar mustache, his hopelessly tattered black pants (apparently his only pair), and his ill-fitting stained white dress shirt, he gave off an aura of someone who didn’t give a fuck about the pageantry of rock music. He wasn’t even fashionably unfashionable. Grooming, hygiene, and composure were neglected. He looked disheveled, poverty-stricken, strung out. Most Daughters sets found Lex in less attire, usually just a pair of briefs. Far from the display of muscle and machismo seen in chiseled frontmen like Henry Rollins, Anthony Kiedis, and Chris Cornell, there was nothing erotic about near-nude Lex. Sexual? Certainly, but only in the most degrading, animalistic sense of the word. Lex’s stage presence only served to make the audience as uncomfortable as possible. He would claw red lines into his belly, cram his entire fist into his mouth, fellate the microphone, and drool on himself while fondling his genitals. In moments where audience members chose to interact with him on stage, the results were equally filthy. People vied for his spit. Women pulled at his briefs. Fans fondled and licked his exposed cock. A confessed “sex addict”, Lex would swap spit with both men and women mid-set and fuck fans in venue bathrooms. His tally of sexual conquests was startling, given his disturbing stage behavior and lack of sociability. Claiming a bad acid trip as the root of his social anxiety, Lex was nearly bipolar in his daily interactions. He was relatively friendly and talkative one moment, withdrawn and angry the next. A ninth-grade drop out and former homeless teenager, his bleak world-view was legitimate.

“…worker of iniquities…”

There’s no verse. No chorus. No rhyming scheme. No melody. It’s just one musical phrase repeating for the entire duration of the song. The instrumental accompaniment sounds like a broken machine filtered through the ears of someone simultaneously shuddering through a panic attack and immersed in vertigo. The sound underneath Lex’s litany is a study in all things wrong and counter-intuitive. The band—comprised of entirely capable and talented players—sounds like they’re deliberately unlearning their instruments. Cymbals crash without a kick drum to punctuate them. The bass guitar dives and climbs with little regard for actual notes. One guitar avoids the lower octaves completely and opts instead for atonal high-end screeching and skronky discord. The other guitar remains stuck on one warbled, seasick riff through the whole song, sounding off-balance and broken even when the whole band locks in around it. It’s confounding, ugly music.

“…transgressor, bad example, scoundrel, villain, knave…”

The annals of rock music have no shortage of bands showcasing the darker side of human nature. Ever since Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil, ever since Jerry Lee Lewis set his piano on fire, ever since Iggy Pop rolled in broken glass, there has existed a certain sector of the rock community dedicated to exorcising its demons on stage. It’s the reason that concerned parents and church groups still argue that rock music is evil. This flagrant display of bad behavior, self-destruction, and reckless abandon is at the very root of rock music. And perpetuating rock’s legacy of danger requires raising the bar of rebellion. As rock music nears the age of retirement, its old tricks no longer impress young audiences. Chuck Berry and Little Richard carry none of the threat they did in their heyday. KISS terrified puritanical parents with the widespread rumors of their name serving as an acronym for Kids In Satan’s Service, but now they seem downright Christian in comparison to the blasphemous content of black metal bands like Gorgoroth. So prevalent is the anti-social contingent of music in today’s market that it’s hardly noteworthy for a band to parade its malice for an audience. The harder edged realms of rock music—metal and punk, for example—depend on that kind of antagonism. Daughters looked for one of those last few buttons to push, one of those last few taboos to break, one the last few ways to make people cringe. Perry Farrell noted well over two decades ago “nothing’s shocking.” Daughters challenged that statement.

“…miscreant, viper, wretch, the devil incarnate…”

It takes a certain brand of individuals to make nihilism translate into music, and it requires their contempt to be believable. Words like “genuine”, “sincerity”, and “honesty” get thrown around by critics and fans as signifiers of good music. How do those qualities apply to antagonistic musicians? Do the artists have to be genuinely miserable people to make convincingly ugly music? The artists who are typically the most successful at channeling this kind of dark art manage to convey that wrath and misery in both content and form. It’s not just a matter of singing about the pasty underbelly of the human psyche or throwing a few skulls on an album cover; it’s about the thoroughness of pessimism. It’s about creating a genuine sense of danger. And it requires a misanthropic honesty that carries itself both on and off-stage. It used to be that the entirety of the public’s perception of an artist stemmed from image they set forth on stage and on record. In the age of the internet, this is no longer the case. Even more so for a band of Daughter’s stature—a band that rarely had a backstage to slink off to, a band that still had to unload their own gear off stage, a band that still had to run back to the merch booth after their set to sling t-shirts for gas money, a band with no place to hide and sustain a fabricated mystique.

“…monster, demon, fallen angel, murderer, and thief…”

The Catch-22 is that being in a successful band—a band that can write music together, play shows, tour, record, maybe even make a little money—requires unity, solidarity, positivity, compromise, and sociability. In other words, a band that’s genuinely driven by angst and hostility is doomed for failure. Proof of the unsustainable nature of these kinds of acts is most evident in the dearth of popular nihilistic bands. Even the somewhat well-known misery peddlers tend to be tragically stunted. Notorious shock rock icon GG Allin made a career out of anti-social behavior and bilious lyrical themes. He was known to take the stage naked, ready to fight the audience and fling his feces at the crowd. He wrote songs with titles like “Last In Line For The Gang Bang” and “Fuckin’ The Dog”. He famously promised to kill himself on stage, which would have been the ultimate display of the self-destructive nature of negative music, but a heroin overdose beat him to it. Glen Benton, the vocalist and bassist for seminal death metal band Deicide similarly promised to off himself at the age of 33 as a mockery of Jesus Christ’s year of death. Benton failed to live up to his word. And while he will always be remembered for the controversy he created in his early career by branding an inverted cross into his forehead and advocating animal sacrifice, he tempered out in his later years when he became a family man with a wife and kids. Not surprisingly, the quality of Deicide’s albums declined, as did their album sales. Allin went too close to the edge and fell into the abyss. Benton mellowed out. Neither managed to sustain the malice of their classic records over a protracted career. Daughter’s brand of ugliness had none of Allin’s overt misogyny and violence, none of Deicide’s Christian-baiting Satanism. Instead, they specialized in a kind of implied depravity. Lex wouldn’t attack the venue patrons, but he’d do everything else in his power to make the audience take a squeamish step back. Even though their album title references Hell, there was no trumpeting of a contrarian religion in their lyrics, no acknowledgement of moral consequence. Instead, Lex sang about emotional voids. It somehow made Lex scarier than GG or Glen. He seemed smarter. Colder. Less confrontational, but also less vested in cheap stunts and outlandish behavior for the sake of winning over anyone’s approval. He wasn’t interested in violence. He was interested in degrading himself on stage, forcing the audience into an unnerving kind of voyeurism.

“…lost sheep, black sheep, black guard, loafer, and sneak…”

Even the millionaire “bad boys of rock”—artists like Alice Cooper, Guns N’ Roses, and Motley Crue—aren’t exempt from the imbalance of nihilism and authenticity. For one thing, these cultural giants never tread so far into the blackness that you feared them as people. Their worst crimes were their hedonistic appetites. They still came across as people that would be fun to party with. Marilyn Manson managed to up the ante of anti-social behavior in the ‘90s, but the controversy was calculated. Manson always knew how to articulate his more vitriolic statements in a calm, well-spoken, intellectual manner. It was obviously theater. Daughters didn’t come across as the life of the party. They didn’t come across as having any sort of deeper, thoughtful meaning to their art. They came across as genuinely bitter, crass, resentful individuals.

“…good-for-nothing ass-fucking son of a bitch.”

Daughters were a band that tried to find that balance between thorough, real ugliness and some kind of self-sustaining functionality. They wanted to be successful; they wanted to tour the world and make money. But they also wanted to make something truly hideous and uncomfortable. Their debut album, Canada Songs, was an 11-minute surge of hyper-paced noise-driven hardcore. Occupying the kind of punk/metal hybrid territory instigated by bands like The Locust and Dillinger Escape Plan, Daughters found an immediate audience among fans of frenzied, technical music. It was well-received, but not entirely unconventional for that particular style. But Hell Songs was different. The band ditched their lightning-speed tempos, metal-steeped instrumentation, and shrieking, indecipherable vocals for disjointed mid-tempo lurches and Lex’s drunken oratory. They weeded their old material out of their performances. The fans felt betrayed. They had gone from sounding like the arty descendents of the powerviolence and grindcore scenes into a tightly wound meth-fed version of The Birthday Party. There was a much stronger adversarial vibe to their new approach. Their sound was less tethered to any particular scene. It alienated a fan base that was already built on embracing disenfranchisement and being at odds with everything.

But deservedly, the record found an audience, albeit a small one. For as caustic and abrasive of an album as it is, there’s a surprising catchiness to the material. The low end groans; the high end piercingly buzzes like a swarm of insects; the drums flit from spasms of hyperkinetic pulverizations to deconstructed thuds and clatter; and Lex moans and howls over all of it. Yet somehow, Hell Songs is rife with hooks. There was a discipline to what they did. It could’ve easily devolved into white noise, but there was always a clarity and separation to the instruments. They were a tight band. And for the three years that followed the release of Hell Songs before the group imploded, Daughters came about as close as any band can get to being a total train wreck without rattling apart at the seams. There was fighting, a rotating cast of guitar players, drugs, infidelities, van accidents, hospital trips, lost money, rivalries with tourmates, promoters pulling guns on the band, and an never-ending list of lewd stage behavior. They were a fascinating, glorious mess, and they perfectly captured it over the course of ten songs.

“I’ve been called a sinner.”

[imagine-loki]

Mr. Laufeyson's Ward

TITLE: Mr. Laufeyson’s Ward

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 8 AUTHOR: goddessofmischief ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are living in the late 1800’s and your parents pass away due to a tragic accident. Leaving you an orphan, you are sent to a miserable orphanage. Then, a mysterious and harsh man named Loki visits the orphanage and takes you on as his ward. He brings you to his crumbling mansion in the English countryside, where you face his cruel intentions, and eventually discover that you care for him much more than you’d like to admit. 

RATING: T

NOTES: Hello all. Thanks so much for your patience, I know this chapter is long overdue. It’s quite short in comparison to the past chapters, but I still hope you enjoy it. Now that school is over for me I hope to write & update more regularly. 

The following day, just after lunch, Mr. Laufeyson and I were walking together on the moors surrounding Heathcote. It had initially felt unusual to spend so much time with him, and to not have as much alone time as I was used to having. Ever since the previous afternoon we had shared every meal together and I was in his company for the remainder of the day. Nevertheless, I enjoyed his companionship, and especially the intellectual conversations that we shared. Besides Elsie, there had been nobody else in which I could talk openly about the subjects that interested me most. From classic literature to medieval history, Mr. Laufeyson was quite informed about it all. I highly esteemed his intelligence, and eagerness, about such subjects.

I picked up a bundle of the freshly blooming heather that encompassed the moors and held it to my nose to fully inhale the plant’s subtle and musky smell. My silk black skirt rustled delicately across the foliage as I walked, while Mr. Laufeyson trailed slightly behind me. All that could be heard was the chirping of small birds, and our footsteps, before he intervened on the silence that passed between us. “Spring shall fully be upon us soon, Victoria,” He said, gazing upon the small bundle in my hand before continuing. “And no matter how much you may despise it, I think we should return to the village soon to purchase the supplies for our garden.” “Yes. I assume you are right.” I said, as I safely stored the bundle into my the pocket of my frock. I would press it into one of my books when I got back. Perhaps my old, battered copy of Paradise Lost, I thought. “Can you just not leave me alone this time?” I requested, as I wished to avoid how the villagers scrutinized me and said such terrible things. I knew that they wouldn’t have been so forthright with their remarks had my master been present. “I’ll never leave you.” He responded softly. I looked at him with interest, for he seemed distraught. I was about to ask him if something was bothering him, but there was no need as he readily addressed the matter. “I have been thinking about what you said to me yesterday. In fact, your words prevented me from sleeping yesterday night.” He tucked a loose strand of his raven black hair behind his ear and stepped closer to me. “My words?” I asked, in disbelief that he had lost sleep due to something I had said. “Yes, the way in which you called me a ‘harsh’, ‘condescending’ and ‘malignant’ man.” He responded straightforwardly, as he apprehensively transferred his weight to his other foot. “Oh.” I murmured uneasily, for I didn’t want this to stir into another argument between us. I was quite startled by how he had distinctly recalled the exact words that I had said and I concluded that they must have injured him greatly. “Did you mean it?” He asked for further confirmation. I initially didn’t know how to respond. “I-I am sorry if my words insulted you, sir. I was just affected by how you shouted at your tenant. If you could only show them a little more kindness and-” He interrupted me, and responded solemnly: “The moors are a savage place, Victoria, and sometimes you must act equally as harsh to get things done properly.” I backed away in response to his forbidding change of nature. “I understand, sir. I am not one to know of your business matters, and therefore I shouldn’t have remarked on them. I apologize.” He then sighed deeply and put both hands behind his back before retracing the footsteps that I had just taken - once again increasing the proximity between us by doing so. “No. There is no need to apologize.” He paused for a moment. “As I promised yesterday, I shall try to be more altruistic towards my tenants in the future.” “I think that would be very generous of you, sir.” I met his eyes for a moment before I carried on across the field of heather. He silently followed behind me once again.

¨¨¨°º0º°¨¨¨

I grew more accustomed to living with the undivided attention that my master gave me in the following days that passed. Besides when he took care of a few business matters in the village, which was when I would spend my solitude by reading a book or going for turn in the garden or on the moors, we spent most of the time in each other’s presence. However, I had not deserted meeting with Elsie, Mrs. Cunningham and the others regularly, and each time I saw them they would exclaim about how changed the master’s behaviors were becoming. I also continued writing to my friends at the Hambro House, for I never would forget about them, no matter how content and comfortable I was at my new home.

One morning, we decided to return to the village together, and he had kept to his word in regards to not leaving me alone, not even for a second. Luckily, the only encounter with we had with any of the other townspeople was with Mr. Pickering, the kindhearted owner of the general store. We picked up the seed packets, compost, and other gardening materials at the shop, and Mr. Laufeyson insisted that I should start planting later that afternoon. I agreed with his suggestion, as I didn’t want to wait any longer to tend to our garden.

Once we returned, I changed into the grey uniform that I had kept with me from the orphanage, as I did not wish to dirty any of my other dresses. I ventured outside to see that Richard and Peter had already brought all of the materials we had purchased to the garden, for my convenience, and I then put on my gloves and apron to begin working at once. I initially had a hard time with removing all of the weeds that had accumulated due to how long the garden had been neglected. It would have been nice to have an extra pair of hands to help me, but I knew that all of the servants were occupied with other tasks and that my master probably had no interest in gardening.

I continued to yank at all of the weeds, and also abstracted all of the withered flowers. However, there was this one large, well-decayed plant in the corner of the garden that would not budge. I thought it would probably be best for me to fetch a shovel to abstract the substantial weed, but I instead persistently yanked at it. I tried with all of my strength, but then, I lost my balance and fell back onto my bottom. “Ow!” I muttered under my breath, as an uproar of laughter pervaded the garden. I turned around and I saw that my master, with a large shovel in his hands, had been observing me from behind. He came to me and held out his hand. “Are you alright, Victoria?” He asked, with feigned concern, for I could tell he was trying to hold back his laughter. I took off my dirty glove before I placed my hand in his and he pulled me up. “I’m fine, sir.” I responded solemnly, as I was quite angry that he had been watching me unknowingly. I tried my best to brush off the dirt that had accumulated onto the back of my skirt. “If you have only come to give me the shovel, then hand it over. I know you must have better things to do.” He smiled in a sly manner. “So you wouldn’t care for me to assist you then?” As I looked at him more closely, I observed that he too had changed into something more agreeable for gardening. He had neglected his jacket and instead wore a white, threadbare shirt and a plaid vest with brown and green undertones. His cravat was a light gray color, and his trousers a rich brown. His tall boots were the only black article of clothing that he wore. I had never seen him wear such light colors before.

He continued when I didn’t automatically respond. “You didn’t think I would allow you to work on this all by yourself now, did you?” He gazed into my eyes questioningly. “Well, I didn’t think you’d want to get your hands dirty.” I said simply. He gave out a hearty laugh. “If it shall be our garden, then I believe it is necessary for me to partake in such efforts. Wouldn’t you agree?” I smiled somewhat at this. “Yes, sir.” “Well then,” He began to roll up his billowy sleeves to his elbow. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

He began to excavate the plant that I had failed to unearth with my bare hands. I had continued on with the smaller weeds, yet I found my master’s presence very distracting… The way in which the sun shone on the garden made his contracted arm muscles visible from under his thin shirt, and his heavy breaths accompanied every gouge that he embedded into the earth. When the weed was finally loose from the ground, he bent down and picked it up with a grunt, before discarding it onto the cart with the rest of the weeds and plants that I had previously rooted out.

I had never before witnessed such masculinity, given that I had been rather sheltered by my parents and never had much interaction with men in the past. It had been planned for my parents to introduce me to potential suitors at a ball that had taken place in London last month, but their passing, and my change of situation, had prevented me from going. My master was a fine example of the male specimen. His broad shoulders, toned legs and sharp, pale visage for some reason caused me knees to quiver slightly. His black hair was brilliantly illuminated by the sun’s rays, and fell loosely about his perspiring face - as he was more concerned with his current task then with fixing his hair. A warmness radiated from my reddening cheeks as I continued to look onward at him, but this feeling also applied to my lower regions. It felt as though butterflies were flying rapidly about in the pit of my abdomen, and this sensation was one that I never experienced before.

I couldn’t keep myself from studying him, even though I felt deeply ashamed for doing so. I would momentarily bend down to pick up a protruding weed, only to briefly look at him again. This routine allowed my looks to go unnoticed. I had always found him to be a very handsome man, but I was drawn away from these thoughts as I knew them to be indecorous, and because our relationship practically designated him as a father to me. I finished that particular area at a hurried pace in order to relocate to another corner of the garden: one which obstructed my view of Mr. Laufeyson.

We had removed a large amount of the weeds before lunchtime, and Mr. Laufeyson insisted that we should have a picnic in the garden, given that it was such a fine day. I, of course, agreed to this pleasant suggestion and was about to get up from the ground, when he stopped me. He knelt before me in the ground and took my face in his hands. “Oh dear. It appears that some dirt has blemished your complexion.” He commented with a smile. I wordlessly raised my hand in an effort to wipe it off, but he prevented me from doing so by taking my hand in his and lowering it onto my lap. “Allow me, Victoria.” He took out his handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to lightly brush the cloth against my temple and my right cheek. His movements were slow and tedious, and the eye contact he made with me did not waver. He just continued to hold my face in his hands, even when no more dirt visibly tainted my features. I managed to find my voice to speak: “I will go and tell Mrs. Cunningham about lunch.” “Yes.” He responded. And although he appeared reluctant, he allowed me to go.

……

“… and then a large bird came out of nowhere and had the audacity to pluck my beautiful new straw hat off of my head. It was a good thing I hadn’t tied it under my chin, or the bird would have taken me with him!” I said to Mr. Laufeyson a few minutes later, as he sat on the blanket besides me. I was recounting a childhood memory that I had on the Brighton seaside, which was where my grandmother had lived. My parents had sent me to stay one summer with her as they travelled throughout France. She was a kind and generous woman, and I wondered what had happened to influence my mother to be the complete opposite. My master and I had just finished a lunch of light foods such as cucumber sandwiches, meat pasties and fresh fruits, and we still were sipping at our hot tea. He chuckled at the story in which I recounted, before he suggested the following: “I want to take you someday to the Yorkshire coast. I’m sure it won’t be as pleasant as Brighton, but it will still be rather refreshing on a hot summers day.“ "I think I would enjoy that greatly.” I responded ecstatically. He smiled at me and guided his own tea cup to his lips. After taking up a mouthful, he placed his cup besides him and gazed over towards the house. Richard was approaching the garden. “Hello, Richard. Have you just been to town?” He called out. Richard strode over to where we were sitting. “Yes, master, and I picked up a few more correspondences that just arrived this afternoon. There is one from Miss Browne.” said the amiable servant, as he placed the letters into my master’s hand. Mr. Laufeyson quickly went through all of them and finally found the one he desired: a pure white envelope with neat cursive on the front and enclosed with a crimson wax seal, which exhibited a ornate family crest. “Ah, thank you, Richard.” He humbly bowed and we were soon left alone once again. I could tell that my master was very eager to open it, but that he was hesitant to do so in my presence - in fear of his actions being deemed as rude. Yet, I did not mind and I assured him that it was alright: “I insist that you open it, sir. I shall busy myself by clearing up our plates in the meantime.” “That is very good of you, Victoria. Thank you.” He replied, gently tapping my outstretched knee in gratitude. However, his eyes did not flicker away from the letter in his hand. I began to neatly stack up the dishes and silverware, as my master’s eyes scanned over his lover’s handwritten words. “Well, this is great news!” He exclaimed. “What is, sir?” I inquired. I wasn’t aware of what type of good news could have befallen over Lavinia. She already came across as being rather fortunate with her high social status, her fine clothes, and her acquisition of such a handsome and intelligent suitor like my guardian. Besides a suitor, I once was also recognized to be one that had all of these things. But I had never been truly happy back then.

“You probably are not aware of this, Victoria, but Lavinia’s 23rd birthday is at the end of this upcoming month. The Browne’s have decided to hold a ball for the occasion.” I stammered my usual response to such announcements, a succinct "Oh.” He carried on once he observed that I had nothing further to say. “She has invited both you and I, and it shall be held at their country home in Leicester.” “Sir, I am very honored that they have invited me, but I shall write to them at once to decline the invitation for myself.” I stressed. “I will not permit you to do so.” He said, rather grimly. “But you must, sir, I cannot possibly go. I don’t have anything suitable to wear and I am not fond of social frivolity.” He then laughed. “You forget about the evening dress that I have ordered for you.” I groaned in anguish, as I had momentarily forgotten about the additional dresses that Mr. Laufeyson had insisted on getting. “Sir, I wouldn’t feel comfortable in that type of situation. Although I have attended, and hosted, many parties in the past with my parents, this is different. I won’t know anyone.” I was also going to say that I would feel unwelcome, specifically by Mrs. Browne and her daughter, but I held my tongue. “I shall be there with you. It will be fine.” He said in a comforting manner, but it was expressed quite resolutely. “The other letters can wait. Let’s continue tending to our garden now.” He stored the other letters into his vest pocket, stood up, and held out his hand to me for the second time that day.

¨¨¨°º0º°¨¨¨

March soon became April, and although the change of weather lightened my spirits, they were continuously being hampered by the thought of attending the Browne’s ball at the end of the month. We had however finished removing all of the weeds in the garden, and had replaced the decaying areas with fresh soil and varieties of flower seeds. Now all we had to do was wait for them to bloom.

One early morning on the first week of April, I was awoken by a peculiar sound. Stirring from a deep and pleasant sleep, I recognized that it was the sound of tiny pebbles hitting my glass windows. I put my dressing gown on, and hurried over to draw the curtains, only to find that my master was standing on the lawn just below my window. I unclasped the hooks and opened up the wide window. “Sir, what time is it?” I asked, while repressing a yawn and gazing out onto the moors more closely to find that the sun was barely over the horizon. I then took notice that he was wearing his riding habit. He had neglected has top hat, however, and his black hair was windswept, yet glistening in the early morning beams. “It’s just about six. Go get dressed. I want to go riding with you.” I sighed, still practically asleep. “At this hour?” “Yes, Victoria. Now go get yourself ready.” I tried to come up with an excuse, and easily found an obvious one. “But sir, Mrs. Walsh still hasn’t finished my riding habit.” He smirked. “She actually has. Go see for yourself.” I peeked back inside my room and there certainly was a large box situated on the chest at the foot of my bed, which I hadn’t noticed beforehand. I looked back down at my master and was greeted by one of his smug smiles. “I am sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, but I am tired and I-” He interrupted me, and his next dictation of commands were uncompromising. “Listen to me, young lady. If you aren’t at the stables within fifteen minutes, I will go up there and dress you myself!” And with that he walked away.

I let out a groan, and began to get dressed. Even though I would have loved to crawl back underneath the heavenly blankets of my bed, the last thing I wanted was for him to barge into my room and force me out of bed - for I could very much see him doing such a thing. The grey habit, as well as the exquisite satin hat that came along with it, were beautifully constructed. It turned out that I had been right to inform Gertrude to add a few extra inches to the dress, for I had gained back the weight that I had lost and it now fit me perfectly - even with my corset on.

I looked in the mirror, and for some reason, I was taken aback. Not necessarily at how the riding habit looked on me, for I had worn many other garments just like it in the past. On the contrary, I was surprised at how much older I appeared. Just within two months, my childish bangs had gradually begun to grow out and I hardly ever wore my hair down anymore. There was a glow to my complexion and my figure seemed more defined. I believed I was more healthy than I’ve ever been before. Taking one last glance at myself, I placed my riding hat upon my head and took up my delicately-twined whip before heading down to the stables.

[imagine-loki]

Mr. Laufeyson's Ward

TITLE: Mr. Laufeyson’s Ward

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 7 AUTHOR: goddessofmischief ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are living in the late 1800’s and your parents pass away due to a tragic accident. Leaving you an orphan, you are sent to a miserable orphanage. Then, a mysterious and harsh man named Loki visits the orphanage and takes you on as his ward. He brings you to his crumbling mansion in the English countryside, where you face his cruel intentions, and eventually discover that you care for him much more than you’d like to admit. 

RATING: T

It was apparent that my master and Lavinia had made up that particular morning following their small quarrel, for they were inseparable throughout the rest of her stay at Heathcote. However, Mr. Laufeyson’s attention on me, during the following week, had not diminished in the slightest. He always made sure that I was content and kept well engaged with various indoor diversions - since, by the doctor’s orders, I was still not permitted to go outside. To my delight, he gave me permission to consistently borrow from his library whenever he was present. Upon my first return inside that room, after the incident, I had not been surprised to see that the mysterious daguerreotype of myself was missing from his desk.

Throughout this time, I additionally received, and answered, a few more correspondences from Agnes and Miss Grey, which brightened my spirits even further. They all seemed to be doing well, and Agnes had begun to lay layers of seeds in the garden, which reminded myself about the garden in which Mr. Laufeyson had given me permission to work on.

The Browne’s left early on a beautiful Saturday morning in mid-March, which had been precisely a fortnight since their arrival. I once again joined everyone else in sending them off. Mr. Browne said goodbye to me in a cordial manner, while Lavinia and her mother ignored me completely. In fact, the two women eyed me strangely, with expressions of envy and suspicion. Was it because I would remain at Heathcote with Mr. Laufeyson, while Lavinia would be miles away from her lover? After assuring Lavinia that he would send her a letter shortly, he briefly kissed her and their carriage soon departed.

But then, after they were gone, Peter came around with the phaeton, in which I recognized was being pulled by Dorian and Xavier. This bewildered me quite. Once Peter exited the carriage, my master got inside and called out to me. “Victoria, go on inside and fetch your bonnet and cloak.” He said, as Richard handed him his top hat and gloves. “Why sir? Where are we going?” I inquired. “Well, as you are now allowed to venture outside, I thought we could take a ride into the village.” I was so enthralled by this that I hurried inside without another word, and I could hear my master heartily laugh at my reaction. I put on my lighter cloak and bonnet, as it was one of those rare March days that foretold the coming of spring. The sun shone high in the sky, and the temperature was pleasant. When I returned outside, I took my master’s outstretched hand and he guided me into the carriage. I perceived how amazed the servants were by my master’s actions, and I also was quite flustered by how altered his disposition kept proving to be. Nevertheless, they all wished us a pleasant afternoon. Mr. Laufeyson tightened his grasp on the reins and we were soon on our way. “Have you missed the outdoors, Victoria?” he asked. “Tremendously, sir!” I exclaimed, gleefully. He smiled and turned onto an empty lane. “It seems that only a moment outside has brought back the rosiness to your cheeks.“ He briefly examined my face before he spoke again. "I must admit I have disliked having you so confined to the house throughout the past week.” “As have I, but it’s no matter. This makes up for it.” I assured him. I looked past him onto the moors, and, unlike on that other foggy morning, I could now see the village in the distance. He brought my attention back to him as he held out the reins towards me. “Would you like to steer?” “I believe that would be unwise, sir. I’m far too incompetent. I haven’t even ridden a horse for about a year.” This was true. The last time I rode a horse was on a trip to Cornwall with my parents last spring. “We must go riding together soon, but here, I’ll help guide you.” He quickly gave me the reins before I could say another word, but then placed his gloved hands over mine. I was daunted by partially navigating the carriage at first, and this was evident in how tense my hands were. “Just relax, you’re doing fine.” He spoke calmly. We continued onwards and as soon as I became rather comfortable in steering, due to the feeling of his hands encompassing mine, he suddenly lifted his hands off. “No! Please don’t!” I exclaimed, terrified at the prospect of steering the carriage on my own. He chuckled, but held my hands once more. “Are you this scared when you ride horses as well?” “I’m not scared.” I retorted sharply. “I just haven’t maneuvered a horse in a while.” “Of course, Victoria. I am only joking.” He spoke in a lighthearted manner, and appeared amused by my anger. “Do you happen to have a riding habit, by the way?” “No, sir. I did not pack one with me.” My parents had purchased a few riding habits for me, especially for that trip to Cornwall, but I knew that I would not need them at the orphanage. I hadn’t predicted, however, that I would have the chance to wear them in Yorkshire. “Well, it looks like that we will just have to add one to our shopping list.” He slyly grinned. “No. I couldn’t possibly think of having you purchase my clothes, sir.” “Now, I want to make one thing clear.” His tone suddenly darkened, and I shrank away from him. “You will not question me further in regards to how I spend my money.” He paused and sighed deeply. He avoided my eyes by looking back onto the road, and his next words were delivered more benevolently. “You are my ward, and therefore I get to ultimately decide what I wish to buy you - with your opinion, of course.” “Yes, sir.” I said meekly before also returning my eyes to the lane ahead of us.

We soon drove into the quaint village, which was everything that I hoped it would be. It had a wide variety of shops, including a dressmaker, general store, post office, bookshop, pharmacy, tea room and tavern. Upon our arrival into town, I became aware at how the townspeople reacted as we passed them by. They would hurry to get out of the street or nod timidly towards Mr. Laufeyson with averted eyes. I didn’t question Mr. Laufeyson about the behaviors of these people, for I saw that his entire countenance conveyed a look of superiority and arrogance. He turned into a wide alley, in which a young man immediately appeared and held the horses as we got out of the vehicle. Not a word was spoken between Mr. Laufeyson and the young man, but the young man proceeded to lead the horses forward into an extensive barn where other carriages were parked in. “I was thinking that we can visit the dressmaker first, and then I will drop you off at the bookshop for a little while. I have some business to attend to.” “What kind of business, sir?” “I have not made it known to you, but I am the landlord of most of the houses situated in this part of Yorkshire. Therefore, I am meeting with one of my tenants at the tavern this afternoon.” I nodded in understanding, yet I was quite surprised to hear of his title as a landlord. Was his occupation really so trivial that I had never heard any of the servants talk about it before? I wondered why nobody had mentioned it to me prior.

He guided me in the direction of the dressmaker’s, which proved to be a beautifully designed store, complete with different mannequins showing the latest fashions from London and abroad. Various display tables exhibited exquisite laces, ribbons and other bits and bobs. As we had entered the store, a bell above the door had marked our presence and a middle-aged woman came out of the back juggling many boxes in her arms. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!” She said, her voice muffled by the large boxes before her face, which also obscured her view. As she tried to maneuver behind the counter, she stumbled over something and the boxes, which most definitely contained various bonnets and other hats, flew out of her hands. However, all of the boxes had been secured tightly and none of the contents had spilled out. I hurried over to help her pick them up. “Oh, thank you, miss.” She said graciously. I said it was no problem at all, and after she placed her boxes onto the counter, her eyes widened and she stepped backwards into the wall upon looking in the direction of my master. “Good day, Mr. Laufeyson.” She said shakily. “How may I be of service to you?” “Hello Mrs. Walsh. My ward Victoria is in need of a new riding habit, and some other dresses as well.” Other dresses? I did not need, nor did I desire, additional frocks. I was perfectly content with the ones that I already have in my possession. I had not even worn the majority of them yet, as I was still in mourning. “O-Of course. Let me get out our new catalogue.” She returned to the back room. “Sir, I do not need more dresses. Just the riding habit will do.” I remarked. “I will be purchasing you two additional dresses, Victoria. A day and evening dress. And I don’t want to hear another word of defiance issue from your mouth.” He said resolutely, but in a jovial tone of voice. And as I crossed my arms in defeat, I saw that he grinned triumphantly.

Mrs. Walsh returned to the catalogue, and Mr. Laufeyson told me to choose whatever styles I liked. The style of riding habit that I chose was harmonious to the ones that I used to own, yet I chose it in a dark charcoal grey to correspond with my mourning. The deep burgundy day dress I selected was rather plain, but still pretty, and was detailed by ruching at the bodice, puffed sleeves and a small bow at the back. The evening dress was more difficult to decide upon, as I couldn’t settle on a color. “Which do you prefer, sir? The blue or the green?” I asked my guardian, showing him the silk swatches of the two colors. “The green.” He said without hesitation. “And have you just chosen that color as it is your favorite?” I eyed his cravat, as he had chosen to wear one of emerald green today. “Perhaps.” He grinned. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to see me in another color? Like pink, for example?” I immediately regretted my words, as I knew that they might offend him as they obviously referred to Lavinia’s many gowns of that color. However, he began to chuckle. “Yes, I am quite sure.” When I turned back to Mrs. Walsh to confirm the color for the dress, she appeared baffled by what was going on between Mr. Laufeyson and I. Nevertheless, she wrote it down in her order book and told me to follow her to the back to take my measurements.

“You are a blessing, Miss Victoria.” She whispered to me once she closed the curtain that separated the back room from the front. This statement took me off guard, yet when I responded I also spoke softly as I didn’t want Mr. Laufeyson to overhear our conversation. “How so, Mrs. Walsh?” “Please dear, call me Gertrude.” I nodded at her request and she continued. “Not I, nor anybody else in the entirety of Yorkshire, have ever witnessed Mr. Laufeyson act with such amiability before!” She began to take my measurements with diligence as I asked her a question. “Has he always been so formidable?” “Ohh, yes, dear. As a landlord, he has caused families to move out of their homes and out onto the streets to live the rest of their lives in poverty. Just last year, one of my good friends Jan Appleby was forced out of her home with her five children due to her husband’s inability to pay Mr. Laufeyson’s high charges of rent.” “And where are the Appleby’s now?” I inquired worriedly. “They had to move out of town. They are still in Yorkshire, yet are far away enough from being influenced further by Mr. Laufeyson.” I was saddened to learn of this. She finished up with the necessary measurements, and I informed her to give me an additional inch or two. She initially thought that I was joking, but I told her that I wished to gain back some weight. “Is Mr. Laufeyson treating you well?” She immediately asked with apprehension. “Yes. I just recently had a fever. That’s all.” It did not want to give this woman another reason to hate my master. “Ah, yes. This winter has been cruel to us all.” She said with a sigh. “Well, we better go back out. I don’t want to make your master suspicious of what we are talking about.” She said with a wink. I obliged, and as she drew the curtain, my eyes fell on my guardian, who appeared completely dissatisfied from having to wait so long in such a store. “I expect that all of these garments will be completed in two weeks.” He firmly addressed to Mrs. Walsh. Her eyes bulged open wide. “But, sir, surely you must understand-“ “I don’t want to hear any grievances from you, Mrs. Walsh. Make the completion of these dresses your upmost priority.” I then spoke up, for I would not allow him to inflict such pressure upon the woman, who probably had many other garments to complete other than mine. “It would be unnecessary for Gertrude-“ Mr. Laufeyson turned to me with shock at already being on a first name basis with the dressmaker, having only spent less than five minutes with her alone. “I mean Mrs. Walsh, to prioritize two dresses that I will not wear until a few more months, or whenever I deem is the right time.” “What do you mean, Miss Dowling?” He scowled disapprovingly. The fact that he had once again addressed me in this way did not go unnoticed. For the last two weeks, I had grown accustomed to hearing him call me only by my first name. “I am still in mourning, sir, and therefore I will continue to wear black and grey for the time being. So, Mrs. Walsh will take her time on the dresses and only focus on completing the riding habit in two or more weeks.” I turned to my master and he bit his lip in agitation. When he opened his mouth, he could utter nothing. “Two weeks for the riding habit will be just fine, miss.” Said Mrs. Walsh appreciatively.

“How dare you humiliate me, Victoria!” shouted Mr. Laufeyson once we exited out of the shop. “I apologize, sir. I did not intend to offend you. I only thought to remind you of my mourning.” I was finding it hard to hold back my laughter at his wounded pride. “Well, I still will not have you boss me around in such a way again!” His words wavered, and did not come out as confidently as he intended. “Yes, sir.” I agreed, even though I felt like challenging him on his own morals, especially in regards to the information that I had gathered from Gertrude. He then placed his top hat firmly on his head and took out his pocket watch to check the time. “I must meet my tenant now, Victoria. Do you mind spending a few minutes at the bookshop?” “Of course, sir.” I nodded with approval. He smiled, and his previous crossness towards me seemed to dissipate into thin air. “Good girl. I will meet you inside shortly. Pick out whichever books you like.” He departed in the direction of the Red Lion Tavern, as I headed to the bookshop across the street.

There was already a large gathering of people inside, and I grew disconcerted when the crowd, which was largely made up of men, turned to observe me. They all began to mutter things to one another, and I hid behind a stack of books. Although I appeared interested in the large volumes before my eyes, I was not in the slightest: for they were all medical and scientific journals. “Is that she?” whispered one voice. “Yes, indeed. Just look at how she is dressed in all black. Yet, the color becomes her quite well.” answered another. I then heard a women’s voice out of the congregation of men: “Poor thing. I heard from Mrs. Sweeney that her husband believes that Mr. Laufeyson abuses the girl.” “It wouldn’t surprise me, considering how much of a brute he is.” another man responded.

“You take an interest in medical and scientific journals then?” said a voice from my right. “I’m certain that many girls your age would not be interested in such subjects.” I looked away from one of the spines of a ten year old book entitled: The Provincial Medical & Surgical Journal: 1867 and saw that a young man was standing besides me. He had curly auburn hair and wore an apron, which informed me at once that he was an employee here. He continued speaking when I did not respond. “My name is James. Is there anything I can help you with?” “No. I am alright.” I spoke in a whisper, as I was still trying to discern what the others were saying. “So you are interested in such subjects then?” “No.” He laughed at this, but I found no humor in what I had said. I was too focused on what was being said about my guardian and I. The conversations were echoing throughout the store, even more audible than before. “I personally find it very suspicious that Mr. Laufeyson would be given the role of a guardian after only meeting with Thomas Dowling a few times.” said a voice that I hadn’t heard previously. “Yes, very suspicious indeed. Perhaps he just wanted a pretty girl to look at all day. John Spencer’s daughter, who is a maid there, is not much to look at, and the only other woman is old Petunia Cunningham.” I recognized this man as the one who had called my master a brute. The others laughed at what he said. Another unidentifiable male voice responded: “Just to look at? No. I think he desires to use her for something more than that: a source of pleasure.” The other men chucked and gibed further over this, but this information startled me so much that the only thing I could do was to run out of the shop, with James persistently calling me to come back.

I stood in the middle of the street, not knowing where to go. I practically was run over by a oncoming carriage that I hadn’t even took notice of until it was a three feet away from me. All of the townspeople were studying me and I feared I was going to faint from the panic I was experiencing. My heart was beating widely in my chest and I could barely breathe. I was usually strong and unaffected by such situations, but given that I felt absolutely abandoned in a foreign place, I could not summon up the ability to act so bravely at that moment. I ran to the tavern to seek my master, as I no longer wanted to be alone with all these strangers around me. The inside of the establishment was dark, and the aroma of heavy liquor and tobacco smoke overpowered my senses. It was quite empty, as only one man was at the bar, but then I head shouting from one of the back rooms. I sought to find the room, my master’s voice serving as my guide: “You must pay today, Stephen, or I’m afraid I will have to send you and your family out onto the street!” The voice of the man who answered was all aquiver: “P-please, sir, just give me another week. I ensure you that I will have the money by then. One of my little ones is very sick and me and my wife have been spending so much time on caring for her. She would not survive if we had to move.” I found the room and peeked inside to observe that my master’s back was to the door. “I don’t care! Your family matters do not concern me!” He shouted with rage and pounded his fist hard onto the table. Stephen did not respond, and a strange silence filled the space. “What are you looking at, Stephen?!” asked Mr. Laufeyson. I could sense that the man was looking towards the doorway, where I had just been. He had caught me when I had momentarily peeked out. I remained in my spot besides the door, hoping that he wouldn’t give up my presence. “There… there was a young girl at the doorway. Just now.”

I sighed uneasily, as I knew that it was too late to run away from the scene and that I would have to encounter my master’s rage once again. The sound of his chair scraping the hardwood floor was followed by heavy footsteps. He called my name in a most hateful manner. I had closed my eyes, partially to brace myself for his unpleasant words and also because I was still panting from what had happened in the bookshop. I was holding onto the wall for support as I felt him enter the hallway. “Victoria! What are you doing here? What’s happened?” Upon observing my present condition, he was quite distressed. He came closer to me and I managed to open my eyes, which met his directly. When I didn’t respond, he carefully took my arm and I allowed him to lead me to one of the uncomfortable and rickety chairs inside the room. “You know this young lass, sir?” inquired Stephen. “Yes, she is my ward. Will you fetch a glass of water for her, Stephen?” The poor young man initially did not know how to respond to my master’s gentle request, but he nodded his head and left the room in haste. “It seems I was wrong about you, sir,” I said breathlessly. “You have clearly exhibited to me that you are still the same harsh, condescending man that I had originally believed you to be!” He was silent for a moment, analyzing what words he should say to such a insulting statement. “Victoria, you don’t understand.” He couldn’t look at me directly upon saying this. “I think I have witnessed much of your malignant character to understand quite clearly.” I sternly replied. I don’t know what compelled me to be so bold in this moment to say such things. Perhaps it was because I felt completely overwhelmed by what I had heard in the bookshop, and that my frustrations over the legitimacy of my master’s guardianship caused me to act aggressively towards him. No matter how much I wanted to, I could not muster the courage to question my master about his relationship with my father. Just then, Stephen reentered the room with the glass of water and I took it appreciatively. “Will she be alright?” he asked my master. “Yes, I’ll take care of her. She is just a bit shaken over something.” He studied me with worry before deciding what to say next. “Go, Stephen. I will give you until the end of the month.” “I am most grateful, sir. Thank you.” He dismissed himself forthwith.

Mr. Laufeyson placed a seat besides mine and questioned me without delay. He seemed to have already forgotten about how I had insulted him, as his concerns were only only for my wellbeing. “Now, I want the truth, Victoria. Did somebody touch or harm you in any way?” I shook my head as I was still sipping the water. “No, not physically, sir.” “Then what caused you to leave the bookshop? “They were all talking. About me, about you.” I whispered this reference to him, as I was unsure with how he would respond. “What if all of this has been a mistake?” I softly confessed, when he still had not replied. He then swallowed hard at my words. “You consider all of this, including my guardianship, to be a mistake?” The sadness that then suffused across his features caused me to respond sympathetically, despite all those terrible things those strangers had said in regards to him. “No. No of course not, sir.” I reached out and held onto his arm. I was surprised at myself for doing this, and he was as well as he looked down at my hands. “What I meant was that I don’t think we should have came to the village. I hadn’t expected this to happen.” He remained quiet for a moment, deep in thought, and he then placed his hand gently on-top of mine. “I will seek out those who spoke poorly about you.” “No, sir. I think it would be unwise if you gave them another reason to dislike us.” “Us?” He chuckled lightly. “I can deal with their hatred towards myself, Victoria, for I deal with it practically everyday. But I will not allow them to speak degradingly about you.” “But perhaps we can both try to make amends somehow?” I implored, hoping that he would find some truth in what I was trying to say. He rolled his eyes sarcastically and smirked. “Curse your kindheartedness.” I held his arm more tightly to emphasize my pleas. “At least promise me that you will try to be more sympathetic in the future.” He looked at me, and his next statement was sincere and without equivocation: “I promise that I shall do my best to please you.” “Thank you, sir. Now, can you please just take me home?” Home. Had I just considered the gloomy, desolate Heathcote Manor to be my home? My master appeared as baffled as I when he considered what my words implied. However, he composedly agreed to my request, as if my words had no affect on him at all. But I knew that they had.