#This is one of the few games that shaped my entire childhood. Defined it.

[shima-draws]

Day two (2) of me ignoring my responsibilities to replay Harvest Moon: Tree of Tranquility (2008)

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #56 – Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin

At the start of the year, I set out to try and read more proper literature. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow was not a book I had ever heard of, or by an author I knew anything at all about. But it was on my local bookstore's and local library’s staff pick lists, and has a bunch of awards, and I think showed up on some list of Goodreads recommendations. So 9 months later I finally worked down the list to it and went in totally unprepared and with zero expectations or preconceptions.

The book’s well-written and well-executed, but I can’t say it really worked for me. Or properly, it absolutely was working for the first two thirds or so, but by the end just felt like it lost a lot of the touches that had made it interesting and was just drowning in its own sentimentality.

The book follows Sam and Sadie, two Californian wunderkunds growing up in Los Angelos in the 1980s. They meet in a children’s hospital, where Sam is being treated for a foot the was nearly shattered in a car crash and Sadie is visiting her elder sister as she’s treated for cancer. The two of them instantly begin bonding over playing Super Mario Brothers and begin a friendship and a creative partnership that will - as they grow up and found an artistically and commercially successful video game studio in the late 90s – define the shape of both of their lives, no matter how turbulent and conflicted it at points becomes.

For reasons that probably boil down to the audiobooks my mother played on road trips as a child, I’ve always had a fondness for books that track the broad sweep of a life or lives, zooming out and stretching across the years and decades. So I actually digested this a decent bit more easily than I do a lot of modern litfic that I’ve tried. For the first few hundred pages, it all even holds together very well, bouncing around the timeline and providing childhood episodes and context as it's relevant and making the central relationships compelling and emotionally plausible. Unfortunately a couple of experiments in form (one worked for me, one really didn’t) eat up a lot of page count in the final act, and entirely kill the sense of flow and structure. Not at all helped by the narrative voice losing a lot of its charm and the story growing wholly predictable (and a bit saccharine) in the closing pages.

I say ‘central relationships’ and not ‘relationship’ because describing the book as being about the relationship between Sam and Sadie is just, basically false advertising? Marx – Sam’s college roommate, later Sadie’s boyfriend, the business manager of their video game studio - is for most of the book at least as important a character as the two leads. He’s a much less interesting character – entirely too much of a natural saint, compared to how very flawed and petty Sam and Sadie are both allowed to be – but he’s a key part of the dynamic and most of the book is properly about different permutations of the trio bouncing off of each other. No other character gets a tenth of the focus and exploration of those three, and are really more props for narrative and to incite development than anything else.

The book has (until the end, anyway) a strong narrative voice that I really enjoyed, but which also may have caused me to set my expectations entirely wrong for what the book was actually planning. The only way I can really describe it is that the book reads like one of those New Yorker longreads that are trying very hard to convince you they’re not just rubbernecking some fascinatingly dysfunctional relationships and personal drama among some semi-notable creative figures. Your Bad Art Friends and similar. Deeply opinionated and gossipy, but making a show of seeming detached and objective, always making asides written from the perspective of the modern day and quoting interviews from years later about events as they occur in the narrative. As someone who is a slightly guilty fan of exactly those kind of longreads, it did make for a very fun reading experience.

But it also made me get my hopes up. Which is to say, the early chapters make quite a few references to how latter in life Sam and Sadie wouldn’t be on speaking terms, and how ‘something’ happened at Unfair Games in 2005. I was looking forward to something some messy and newsworthy interpersonal drama of the kind that doesn’t leave either of them (or anyone) looking good. The falling out does occur, but in a way that’s mostly just piles of misunderstandings and a stubborn refusal to communicate from both of them. The company always stays ostensibly together, and things never get much worse than quietly cherished bitterness and a refusal to speak. Which feels very emotionally believable, as incredibly frustrating as it is. The dramatic rupture that happens in 2005, well-

The book’s use of violence always feels slightly unreal. It intrudes on the narrative in ways that, like, they are things that happen, but feel so exaggerated and on-the-nose they took me out of the reading experience, at least a bit. A woman jumps off her balcony to her death and happens to land right in front of a young Sam. His mother stops her car on an LA highway to avoid hitting a dog, and he asks her something that keeps her talking and not moving for the crucial moment before an SUV slams into them, killing her and permanently damaging his foot. And the great end-of-second-act rupture that occurs in 2005 is a pair of homophobic gunmen storming into their office and shooting Marx because their cozy MMO lets gay people get married. Any one would have been fine, but combined they make the illusion of violence as random and capricious wear a bit thin and the writerly artifice underneath a bit too clear, at least for me.

As far as period pieces go – the story isn’t nostalgia bait, but it isn’t not nostalgia bait, either? It’s a few years before my time, so I suppose I just don’t appreciate it properly – the experience of growing up in and living through the late ‘80s through 2000s is one the book cares deeply about replicating. It generally does an excellent job making things feel of-the-moment, if occasionally by having the narrative draw pretty heavy-handed comparisons to what would be different in the present. The aesthetics (fashion, public art and marketing, fads and consumer trends) are all there, and the characters experience them like people to whom they’re novel and trendy. (Personally I could have done with a bit less effort spent describing every single outfit, but if I had memories of what people actually looked like wearing them I might appreciate it more.) It does similar things with LA and (to a far lesser extent) Boston – every other place the book touches on feels vague and a bit unreal, but LA is rendered with a real sense of place and love for the city and it’s little eccentricities.

The area where the book is absolutely nostalgia-bait is video games, and the whole heroic era of rapid changes and improvements to the medium where new boundaries were being crossed every year and a handful of sufficiently talented and dedicated first-time devs could create something genuinely revolutionary. The book even manages the neat trick of making almost every fake game the protagonists create a) plausible for the era and technology and b) actually seem like something I would want to play (less so the Pioneerville MMO created in the final act, as with many things). But I do genuinely want to play Master of Revels quite badly.

The book does share a common failing with what feels like almost every period piece, where by complete coincidence the major characters all conveniently happen to be on the Right Side of History for every really major (that is, from the perspective of the present, character-defining) political issues. This is made a bit more irritating by the fact that despite all being quite radical on the issue of e.g. gay marriage (or just not being even slightly homophobic) from the vantage of the early Bush administration, none of Sadie, Sam or Marx ever even conceive of it as being political.

The book doesn’t conceive of itself as really having politics at all – but again, in the way of a New York Magazine feature where having certain sets of liberal convictions is just a matter of personal decency and morality. A certain unexpressed but present sexual conservativism, a view of class where Sam’s grandparents owning and running a successful restaurant counts as being from the wrong side of the tracks, hyper-conscious of race but without much to really say about it. You’re all familiar with the style, I’m sure.

Anyway yeah, not a bad book by any means, but one that lasted long enough and ended weakly enough to expend any real passion or affection I’d built up for it.

[raphianna]

OC Infodump Tag, R.A., Dragonborn; ft. 5 Other OCs

@skyrim-forever I wasn’t tagged, but your questions intrigued me :] I hope you don’t mind me doing this. I also hope you and/or anyone else who reads this enjoys :]

What is your OC’s name? Why did you choose it? Were there any other names you considered?

How was your OC raised? What kind of background?

What values do they have? How were they instilled in them?

What does your OC look like? Have they had other designs? How has their look changed?

Does your OC have a family? What do they define as family?

Does your OC have a mentor or someone they look up to? Why do they look up to them?

What has been the most significant event in your OC’s life? How has this affected them?

Who does your OC care about? Is it reciprocal?

What are your OC’s hobbies? How do they relax?

What should we understand most about your OC?

This is pretty long, so it’s going under a Read More ^^’

Her name

‘R.A.’ Originally, it was the shortened version of my online name, ‘Raphianna’, but as I fleshed her out more, I gave her her own name, ‘Raelyn Ava’. I don’t usually put too much thought into names, I admit. I chose Raelyn Ava because it could still be an abbreviated version of R.A., but I genuinely love it now.

Her full name is Raelyn Ava Waterlily, and I chose the name Waterlily simply because it sounded pretty lol.

When she was younger, everyone called her Raelyn Ava, Raelyn, or Rae. But as of now, she’s shortened her name to R.A. and dropped her last name entirely, because she wanted as few ties to her childhood as possible.

How she was raised, background

She had a loving, albeit distant relationship with her parents.

Keyword: had.

They were killed in front of her when she was 9, when their village was attacked by a branch of Volkihar vampires. They’d tried to trade her for their own lives. She lived as a captive for 7 years afterwards, until she was 16, when she escaped. She wasn’t really ‘raised’ past the age of 9 per se, more so fought to survive.

Before, she lived a simple life, and was eager to learn archery, and was skilled in parkour. (I bring up parkour, cause my mama calls me a goat in the game since I can scale almost anything :P)

Her values

R.A. relies heavily on self-discipline. Those 7 years were hell, and she was never willing to talk about it after she escaped. There wasn’t anyone to talk to anyways. It made her emotional to think back on what she went through. Strangers didn’t need to worry about the weight of her wounds. And later on, her loved ones shouldn’t even have to imagine what she experienced. Her view of self discipline was a bit warped at first, but she learns how to understand it in a healthier way after she opens up to people.

She also has a tight grip on loyalty. When she learned that she could trust people, whether it be from the promise of money, deals, or genuine admiration, it was life changing. And when that loyalty started coming from real relationships more often, she was that much more determined to protect it. She has very negative feelings towards Mercer and Astrid because of this. (Though she believes Astrid deserved a second chance in the Void.)

Her looks & design

R.A. is a Wood Elf. She has shoulder length black hair, completely black eyes, and tan skin. She’s thin and 5’6”. She has a scar in the shape of a handprint across her mouth. (It’s the handprint from the warpaint option, but I made it into a scar.) There’s scarring across her throat also.

My first design for her was a Redguard, cause when I first started playing Skyrim, I literally just copied my mama as she played. (Redguard, heavy armour, two handed weapons.) My character had the same hair, but with silver eyes. She also still had the handprint across her mouth, but that was only because I thought it was cool at the time :P

I changed her to a Wood Elf when I learned that they were inspired by Native Americans. It was strange when I learned the races’ inspirations. I remember talking to my dad about it, and how I wanted to switch to a Wood Elf, since I’m also Native American, and he encouraged me to. Thus, the creation of R.A. really began.

But I still loved the silver eyes. I was bummed that wasn’t an option for the Wood Elves, so that’s why I chose the completely black option for her eyes. But R.A. did have silver eyes when she was younger, but they changed over the course of her life. Her hair also used to go down to her hips, but she cut it after she escaped.

Who’s her family

Right off the bat, yes, she has two adopted children, Lucia and Blaise.

But she also has two older siblings: a brother named Taon, who’s 35, and a sister named Erissa, who’s 31. Both Taon and Erissa left for Skyrim when their mother was pregnant with their sister; Taon was 16 and Erissa was 12. R.A. never knew either of them growing up, but her parents often talked about them.

Taon has green eyes, upper back length black hair in a high ponytail, and pale skin. Erissa has white hair that goes down to her mid back in a low ponytail, green eyes, and tan skin.

It took R.A. a long time to warm up to them, especially when she found out that they knew their mother was pregnant when they left.

By the time R.A. arrived in Skyrim, Taon lived in a cabin near the Eastmarch hot springs, and Erissa was Archmage of the College of Winterhold (canon who).

She does eventually get to know her siblings, and they become super close. Taon and Erissa feel horrible for essentially leaving R.A. behind, and they do their best to make up lost time with her.

They’re a really great aunt and uncle to R.A.’s kids.

R.A. gets Taon initiated into the Thieves Guild, and he and Erissa are among the few people who know that R.A., Karliah, and Brynjolf are Nightingales.

The Waterlily siblings also have two cousins, however.

Their names are Elision and Kyn Nightshade. Elision is 29 and Kyn is 28. (Pronounce Kyn like the beginning of Kynareth.)

Elision is a priest of Kynareth in Whiterun, and Kyn is a bard in Solitude. They learn about their cousins when Elision sees R.A. heal the Gildergreen with sap from its parent tree, and he sends a letter to Kyn.

Elision has black hair up in a ponytail much like Taon’s, golden eyes, and tan skin. Kyn has long black hair cascading down her upper back, purple eyes, and tan skin.

The Waterlilies are wary when meeting the Nightshades, since they never thought twice about their parents or any family they might’ve had.

As far as they’re concerned, their parents are dead to them.

But they become friends with Elision and Kyn, and the two cousins are just as angry at the Waterlily’s parents when they hear about what happened.

R.A. is the baby of all of them at 19.

However, blood doesn’t matter to R.A.. If she decides you’re family, you’re family.

She’s close friends with a Khajiit named Ji’zaka. He’s 26 years old, and they met as captives of Volkihar when R.A. was 10 and Ji’zaka was 17. Ji’zaka escaped with R.A. at the age of 23 when she was 16. They unfortunately were separated shortly after they escaped, and lost contact for 3 years.

Ji’zaka doesn’t know what happened for 2 out of those 3 years, but he found himself in Skyrim during the third year. Not welcome in any of the cities, and not really fitting in with any of the Khajiit caravans, he was initiated into the Dark Brotherhood and was an assassin for them when he reunited with R.A..

When she was named Listener, he was the only one besides Cicero who fully supported R.A.’s new role.

Ji’zaka has light grey fur that fades into white with black tips on every other end of his fur. He has red eyes, sharp claws, and multiple piercings in his ears.

He lives with R.A. at Lakeview Manor, and often ends up being a jungle gym and bed for her kids. They love him.

(All of them make one of the most chaotic groups to ever travel across Skyrim)

Who's her mentor

Delvin, which even she found odd, she’ll admit. They had a rocky start when they first met. R.A. was secure in her skills by the time she came into the Thieves Guild, and didn’t appreciate him assuming he knew better than her. She told him as much, rather harshly with her words; as much as her damaged vocal cords would let her, anyway. It was silent after she told him off, and R.A. did worry about making a bad impression, until Delvin laughed, and said he liked her attitude.

She was drawn to his offers of having a drink every other time she came back from a job (she never actually drank, just had some tea). He often seemed to know when something was wrong, and let her know he would listen. R.A. took Delvin up on his offers, and he was the first person she actually opened up to.

Delvin became a sort of father figure to her, someone she could safely confide in. She counts him among her family.

(I’m upset that you can’t insist you know what you’re doing with Delvin or Vex, so R.A. gets to do so from a story point. :P)

Most significant event

Talking with Serana throughout their quests with the Dawnguard. Specifically the conversation in the undercroft of Volkihar castle. R.A. never realised how much she loved family until then. And seeing Serana so resigned to her own father’s fate helped her move on from her parents’ betrayal. It wasn’t forgiveness, it likely would never be forgiveness, but she could let go of it. And seeing Serana in such vulnerable moments helped R.A. see her in a different light. She never hated or disliked Serana, but she tried not to get close to her at first. The amount of trust between them near the end nearly made R.A. weep.

Who does she care for

She cares about her kids, her siblings, her cousins, Ji’zaka, Serana, and Kharjo. Yes, the care is reciprocated, without question.

(Fun fact, I’ve played R.A., Taon, and Kyn in Skyrim :D I couldn’t play Erissa, cause I suck at mage characters, and I think the next OC I wanna play as is Elision, since he gives me paladin/healer vibes ^^ I wanna play Ji’zaka, but I’m unsure about fur colours and patterns.)

Her hobbies & relaxing

Relaxing is relatively new to R.A. and Rayya had to tell her in the gentlest terms that patrolling her house all night wasn’t typically relaxing; not if you were constantly on lookout. Rayya said it was primarily her job, and she urged R.A. to find another way to relax.

Kyn got her enrolled in the Bards College, and R.A. took to playing the lute. Her kids love to sit with her and listen while she plays. They often fall asleep like that.

Gods help you if she finds her favourite book series. You can’t get her attention for hours.

When there’s no enemies around, she loves to roam around Falkreath and the Rift. They’re her favourite Holds.

What should you understand the most

R.A. has a lot on her mind. Thane, factions, crises, the complexity of a possible chaotic afterlife-

It takes a lot to slow her mind down, and in some cases, make her see reason. She’s not reckless, but she knows when and where to target her rage. She shouldn’t have to bear these kinds of responsibilities, but she does. She’ll push through them, because she knows it will give others options she never had in the past.

Nothing can really be done when she gets like that. The best you can do is follow her and see your next quest through.

[lethesomething]

Ghost of Tsushima and the Hands of Fate

I see we're still trying to prove that games are an art form by making everyone feel bad.

For the record, Ghost of Tsushima is one of my favourite games in a very long time. It is extremely pretty, the aesthetic and general … polish is *cheff's kiss*. You can pet foxes and backstab people. The fighting mechanic is decent and there are just So Many Hats.

But also, it has the kind of story that pulls you in to the point where you have to drop the controller to hide behind your fingers going 'ohgodno'.

It is an absolute bastard of a game, is what i'm saying.

So let's talk about that, and specifically about Straw Hat Ryuzo and how I feel bad for him.

I am, by the way, going to be talking about the narrative structure of a video game about medieval samurai, so expect like, a bunch of spoilers.

The narrative is one of the big draws in Ghost of Tsushima. Like yes, it's an open world rpg with fighting and flower picking and all the important stuff, and also yes, some of the bits are sloppily written (looking at you, specifically, 'Ending to Norio's Arc'), but the game definitely sets out to Tell a Story.

And because this is a Serious Game that openly bases itself on samurai movies like Kurosawa's, it is a Drama.

In many ways it is an utterly brutal Bildungsroman, a narrative in which a young man finds his identity.

I have joked with friends about the clear intent for this game to make Important Stories, in that it actually tries to tick all the boxes of hotbutton subjects: childhood trauma? Obviously. Gay relationships?  Yup. Survivor's guilt and PTSD? Oh yes. Domestic abuse? Several. Suggested pedophilia? Damn, even that.

The foxes are there to soothe the soul

It's interesting to note that from a writing point of view, this bildungsroman is even Very Classically Structured. It goes so far as to be a three acter, with a pretty standard build-up.

 Jin Sakai, traumatized man that he is, spends the first act slowly getting to grips with the bit where you don't fight an army by yourself by  just walking up to them and challenging them With Honour, like he has been taught his entire life. Instead of getting stabbed repeatedly in the chest and set on fire, he  discovers guerilla warfare and creates this persona of the Ghost, a literal vengeful spirit seeking justice for the island of Tsushima.

It gets him some big wins and in the second act he slowly embraces this identity until things get to a head where he clashes with his entire old life. The third act starts at the hero's lowest point and is utterly gut wrenching (i am Still Not Over the horse, game), forcing him to pull himself together for an ending that is, well…fitting for the narrative. It's an ending that is needed, but perhaps not what Jin deserves.

 But anyway, this is about Ryuzo, and how until that ending, I was very upset about his role.

You see, this story is told in part through the lives of Important Npc's, who contribute to Jin's journey of self-discovery. This is pretty obvious with someone like Yuna, who is the one to introduce him to the Stealth Life and who is a driving force behind the marketing of the Ghost.

Someone like Masako, meanwhile, portrays vengeance and self discipline, but Jin also kinda tries to make her fill the mother-shaped hole in his heart.

Lord Shimura, meanwhile, is an Obvious Father figure but also stands for Jin's past. He's rigid and ineffective, which pushes Jin to further look for alternatives.

Ishikawa, that other mentor figure, is more moderate and flexible, but he also represents a possible unwanted future. He literally warns Jin at one point not to become like him.

Norio, then, is as mentioned not the best written, but he too is a person that searches for his destiny and tries to become like his hero, while only barely holding on to his sanity. 

Kenji, I'm sorry, I love you but you're just comic relief, that's all you do. It's an imporant job in the story, because god does it need it, but you're not teaching Jin anything other than how to make different 'resigned sigh' noises.

So what about Ryuzo? From the very beginning, Ryuzo's story didn't really sit right with me. There's the obvious class issue: he's one of the few important npc's that are poor, and he's an Antagonist.

It has always rubbed me the wrong way that his original intentions were good, depending on how you read it. He's trying to feed his men. He essentially made the decision that this one man's life (even if it is an old friend) is worth the price for the lives of his band of ronin.

It's a lot more complex than that, of course. Ryuzo partly blames Jin for his predicament in life, and he also knows that samurai treat their soldiers as chattel, which the game goes out of its way to show you they DO.

  Essentially, he's a complicated character who makes bad decisions for arguably good reasons.

Ryuzo did everything he could to save the lives of the people he cared about. He went so far as to abandon his honor and his childhood friends, to try to make this happen.

Does that ring any bells?

It kinda clicked for me at the very end of the game.

Jin, being the protag in an assassin game, does a lot of killing. But some of these deaths are given more meaning than others. Some of them are there to make you feel like shit (the Horse Again, but you lose several friends along the way), others serve a more defining purpose.

You see, there's a fair amount of what i'd like to call 'intimate violence' in Ghost of Tsushima. It's an old trope. The 'if someone was gonna kill me, it had to be you' kinda scene that hails from a worldview in which some deaths are better than others, sure, but some deaths are better even than living. It's a worldview in which life itself is less valuable than your legacy. You die for your place in history. For your clan, for your family, for your honor.

Bushido is full of that sort of thing, so it makes sense that a game building on that worldview, would use the heck out of that trope.

  The first is Ryuzo's death. You fight him in a duel, in which he tries to plead for some resolution. You could let him go, come up with some story. But Ryuzo is a traitor, so Jin ultimately defeats him and sends him off in what would be a touching moment of bro friendship if it wasn't for the blood and my 21st century sensibilities.

You grant him a warrior's death, is what I'm saying.

  It happens again with Shimura. The game actually gives you a choice here, but if you go through with it, the scene almost perfectly mirrors Ryuzo's.

You fight in a duel, and Jin tries to get his uncle to just let him go, come to some kind of resolution. But Jin has been branded a traitor, and the only way for Shimura to restore his honour and clan, is to take his life;

This being a game in which you have the power of bamboo strikes and also save games behind you, Jin ultimately wins the duel, and has the option of granting Shimura a warrior's death.

It is utterly heart wrenching and that whole scene has no business being as pretty as it is. The swelling music? The fucking strings? The anguished yell?

Fuck.

  But anyway.

That's about where it clicked with me, that Jin never had a choice.

Ryuzo's whole role wasn't fair, but this is one of those stories where life itself is just not fair at all.

Both him and Shimura are there to show us Jin's path.

  What if, the game says, Jin had listened? What if he'd taken one of several offers the Khan made and surrendered?

What if he'd cooperated?

Well, we see in Graphic Detail what would happen. He would get pushed into doing horrific things. He gets manipulated, again and again, until there is no way out anymore. At some point it becomes clear to him that he's on the wrong side but whenever he tries to devise some plan to turn things around, things go Badly. He's firmly stuck in Khotun's web and the only way out is death.

But what if, the game says, Jin had stayed true to his honour? What if he had listened to his uncle, not defied him, if he had dropped the Ghost before it was too late?  If he'd gone full bushido and repented for the shogun and done all the groveling and the proper stuff.

Samuraihood is just another straightjacket, says Shimura's fate. The tenets are so rigorous you would take your loved ones life, while fucking bawling your eyes out. Shimura knows damn well it's unfair but he also has no way to leave this path. It's a ride he cannot, and will not, get off alive.

  Jin never had a choice.

There was only ever one way for him to go.

Like let's be real: pretty much everyone in this story was dealt a bad hand. It's a narrative about resilience in the face of utter horror, of reinventing yourself and giving up entire structures of faith. People like Masako, Yuna, Norio are finding peace in dealing with huge levels of trauma and regret.

The goal isn't to start a family and live happily ever after, it's to Survive.

Submitting to the mongols would have killed Jin's spirit. Standing tall and rigid as he was taught to do would have, ultimately, killed him as well.

  "I've given up everything to save these people", he says near the end. "And I would do it again."

That's someone who has no regrets.

Jin never could have taken another path and he knows it.

And this is why Ryuzo needed a fate as shitty as his. He fell, so Jin could walk.

I'm sorry, it's still not fair.

This game needs some comfort fic.

[yumeka36]

25 years of Pokemon

Art credited to エニシ on pixiv

Today marks the quarter of a century anniversary of the franchise that changed my life forever. Technically, I’ve only been a fan for about 22 of those 25 years, since Pokemon didn’t come to the US until a few years after Japan. But I have never wavered in my love for this franchise all that time. Pokemon has been extremely impacting for my generation. I would say that roughly 80% of all my friends, schoolmates, and coworkers who around my age, have fond memories of playing the games as a kid, many of which still partake in some part of the franchise today. Pokemon helped me define who I was in my younger days and allowed me to make long-lasting friendships. The vast appeal of Pokemon that spreads far beyond any age group, gender, or culture, is something that’s hard to put into words. There’s definitely a reason why it’s the highest-grossing media franchise of all time.

I still remember the above image, which was my very first look at Pokemon. It’s the back cover of a magazine I got at the supermarket way back in September of 1998. It was love at first sight…as an animation fan, I had never seen such cute and creative designs for animated animal characters. I soon discovered one of my childhood friends had Pokemon Blue on the Game Boy, and he soon told me all about the games and even let me play them for myself. A few months later, I got my own Game Boy Color and copy of Pokemon Red…and things took off from there! I soon discovered the Pokemon anime series (which I’m still watching to this day, 1,100+ episodes and 20+ movies later) and the trading card game (which I was into on and off over the years, but it eventually got too expensive to keep up).

Pokemon league badges I got in my early years of attending

Unfortunately, things didn’t start out perfect. As I’ve posted about before, I first got into Pokemon when I was around 12 years old in middle school, and was bullied for it. Luckily, I had at least a few friends who shared my love for it, and my mom and other adults in my life were encouraging as well. I could have easy given into peer pressure and pretended that I didn’t like Pokemon just so I wouldn’t be bullied, but I decided to stay true to who I was. I remember one of the bullies even told me that if I wanted to make friends in high school, I should drop Pokemon. Boy, was she wrong…my classmates in high school were much more open-minded than my snobby middle school. I soon made many friends in high school who also loved Pokemon and other anime. That also applied later to my colleges and even a few jobs I’ve had. Many of the friends I made still share a love of Pokemon today, and it continues to be something that connects us.

This well written article from Archaic on Bulbagarden greatly sums up the Pokemon franchise as of now: “The Pokémon fandom has long since surpassed being a franchise ‘just for kids’, and today spans generations, genders, countries and cultures. It includes both people who live and breathe the franchise, and people who only follow certain aspects of it, whether that be the core series games, the anime, the trading card game, or something else entirely.” There are so many branches of the Pokemon franchise, each of which has enough substance to be a hobby all on its own: the video games, the anime, the trading card games, the merch, Pokemon GO…and within each of these, there’s so many different ways to enjoy it. For the video games for example, which is the main part of the franchise I’m into, some fans like to play the games casually, some like to battle online competitively (like me), some don’t care about battling and enjoy trying to catch rare shiny pokemon, some like to create specific challenges for themselves within the games, like nuzlocks. Pokemon has so much to offer for such a wide range of fans, which again attests to its long-lasting appeal.

And how many hours have I spent playing my Pokemon games…

Pokemon X

Pokemon Omega Ruby

Pokemon Sun

Pokemon Ultra Moon

Pokemon Let’s Go Eevee

Pokemon Shield

That’s about 2,365+ hours of playing Pokemon, lol. And this is only the most recent games of the last 7 or so years. You can probably double that amount to account for older games (most of which I still have, but didn’t take pics of). And then you can throw in another 30,000 hours of watching every episode of the anime, plus a few specials. So yeah, Pokemon has been a big part of my life!

Most of the pre-Switch games I have (minus Red and Gold, don’t have them anymore. Not sure where Emerald is)

I’ve had way too many wonderful experiences in my 22 years as a Pokemon fan to discuss here: from the many tournaments and leagues I attended for the video and trading card games, to the Pokemon-themed events and tours I’ve attended, designing my Pokemon scrapbook, completing my living-dex of 890 pokemon in Pokemon HOME, to my crowning achievement of getting in the top 16 at a regional tournament, the many hours of fun I’ve had with friends doing Pokemon GO, battling and trading online, doing raid battles on Pokemon Sword/Shield, and so many other good times. And after the amazing announcements during the Pokemon Presents stream yesterday, I only see more fun to come in the future. Things have been really bleak and uncertain in the world lately, but Pokemon has always been a shining star of certainty for me, and no doubt many others. I actually can’t decide whether Pokemon or Frozen is more important to me…I sometimes like one or the other better depending on the mood I’m in, but they’re such vastly different franchises, it’s too hard to compare. But Pokemon has been around a lot longer, so its had a bigger role in shaping my identity. So here’s to another 25 years of joy-filled Pokemon adventures!

*Crossposted from my main blog, Yume Dimension*

[pickalilywrites]

taking a break from my usual angst to update this erejean~ happy new year everyone ^^

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How To Come Out as a Zombie

EreJean. Zombie Detective AU.

How to Be a Zombie Series

15422 words. 

Read on AO3!

Of all the places they have to meet Armin, of course, it has to be a coffee shop. Not just any coffee shop either, but the Cornerstone Coffee Shop. It’s the café that pretty much defined Eren’s teenage years. It’s where Annie stress-ate jelly-filled powdered donuts after every exam, where Jean and Eren worked until midnight trying to finish their calculus homework because Armin wouldn’t let them copy off his, and where Reiner gathered his friends to inform them of his twelve-step plan to ask Bertholdt to be his boyfriend. (Reiner only got to step three before he couldn’t stand it anymore and asked Bertholdt out. The two were inseparable even after they went to separate colleges, so Eren wouldn’t be surprised to hear if they were still together.) Once upon a time, Eren had once wished this little family-owned establishment would be replaced by something like Starbucks, if only so he wouldn’t feel like he lived in the middle of nowhere. After living in the city for so long, he’s come to appreciate the family businesses that populate his town, and even now it feels like he’s finally come home. Eren just wishes that there weren’t so many people around. 

He slouches down in the leather booth, keeping his hood pulled down over his head. “Did we have to go somewhere so crowded?” he whispers, keeping his voice low so that people don’t overhear. His words are barely audible over the sound of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On,” which Eren swears has been playing in this café ever since the 1997 James Cameron film was released. 

“‘Cause if you try to attack me, I’ll have, like, twenty other people here to beat you to a pulp,” Jean replies, not looking up from scrolling in his phone. He takes a sip of his long black coffee; it’s already half-finished while Eren’s iced Americano (with a straw, Jean said, so as to not mess up his makeup) remains untouched. “Besides, I thought I didn’t have to worry about you trying to eat people because you’re a vegetarian.” 

“A vegetarian zombie and a vegetarian are two totally different things,” Eren hisses. 

God, he wants to kill Jean right now. Eren has wanted to kill Jean (i.e. devour him whole) the entire trip here, so eating him now would be kind of a waste. He should wait for Armin to come first before contemplating eating Jean because he needs at least one person to help him. But it’s not like he’s seriously considering eating Jean. No, not at all. Not even as he sits in front of Eren looking positively delectable, like a human burrito bundled up in his coat and wrapped up in his scarf. Not even as Jean scrolls through his phone, his long and slender fingers swiping across the screen. Not even as Jean jostles his leg up and down, the muscles of his thick thighs flexing against the fabric of his khakis. Eren has to keep reminding himself that, although the thought of chomping down on Jean’s firm thighs might be tempting right now, nothing will ever help him get over the trauma of eating his childhood friend. Also, looking at the baseball bat next to Jean’s knee also reminds Eren that his head is going to get bashed in if he even tries to so much as lick Jean. 

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Eren says. It would have been better if they planned this out more, maybe come up with a game plan and find a way to break the news to Armin slowly. “Do you even have a plan?” 

“No,” Jean replies. He doesn’t seem stressed out about this at all, which stresses Eren out a lot. “I figured it would just be best if we told it to him straight.” 

For some reason, Eren remembers Jean being a lot smarter than this. Jean was never booksmart, at least not in the way that Armin was, but he was smarter than Eren. Annie always said that between Eren and Jean, they only had two brain cells and Jean held both of them. It seems that Jean has somehow lost both brain cells over the past year that Eren’s been gone. 

“Full offense,” Eren says, “but that seems like the worst idea ever.” 

“Okay, let’s hear your idea then,” Jean says, finally putting down his phone. He sits back in his seat, arms crossed against his chest as he looks down at Eren expectantly. 

“... Maybe make him a pamphlet or something?” Eren suggests weakly. 

“Really? You have zero graphic design skills,” Jean snorts. 

What Jean says is, unfortunately, very true. Even designing a Powerpoint slide was difficult for Eren, who somehow always managed to put in unnecessary transitions between each slide which only made it more painful for him and every poor soul that had to sit through his presentations. His professors hated his presentations, and for good reason. Even though a pamphlet seems easier, Eren would probably fuck that up too. 

“I just don’t want him to run away in terror,” Eren mumbles, poking the ice Americano sitting in front of him. The condensation has made it to the surface of the table, making the coffee spin in tiny circles. 

“Just don’t try to eat him,” Jean says very unhelpfully. The little bell on the café’s front entrance chimes and Jean glances up. “Ah, Armin’s here.” He waves at the barista at the front — some high school kid that Eren hasn’t seen before — and says, “Light cappuccino please and another long black.” He gives a brief nod once the barista indicates that they’ve taken his order. 

Eren wants to look back at Armin. It’ll be the first glance he’s had of his best friend in a year, but he doesn’t want Armin to die of shock at his sudden reappearance. He’s also not sure how well Jean’s makeup disguises what he really is. Sure, Eren’s managed to walk through town undetected, but he’s mostly kept his head down and avoided eye contact with the townspeople. How Armin reacts to seeing Eren will be the true test of Jean’s ability. 

As Armin slides in beside Jean, Eren does his best to keep his head down and hide behind the napkin dispenser. Eyes fixed on the table’s surface, he takes in Armin’s reflection as best as he can. As far as he can tell, not much has changed aside from the fact that Armin has gotten his hair cut. Armin’s bob was cute back when they were in elementary school, but his undercut is a lot more mature and suits his job as a councilman. His face is a little skinnier, making Armin seem a little less boyish than he looked back in high school and college. Eren wonders if he’s been eating right. 

“I have a bunch of meetings today, so we kind of have to make this quick,” Armin says as he shrugs off his coat and lets it fall around his waist. He doesn’t seem to notice Eren at first. To Jean, he continues, “It must be really important if you took your morning shift off. What’s so important that you couldn’t wait until tonight?” 

Jean gestures at Eren, who timidly lifts his head but only so he can make brief eye contact with Armin. 

“Ah, I didn’t notice you. Sorry about that. It’s kind of hectic at work right now, so I’m a bit out of it,” Armin says. He extends his hand, waiting for Eren to take it. “I’m Armin.” 

Eren doesn’t take Armin’s hand. He just stares at it miserably, hating how he’s already analyzing the size and shape of it and wondering just how much meat is on it. Armin’s fingers are nowhere near as graceful and slender as Jean’s, but Eren still wants to pop them off and chomp on them like french fries. 

Wrenching his eyes away from Armin’s hand, Eren stares at the table and gazes down at his reflection. “I know,” he whispers raggedly. 

“Oh?” Armin raises an eyebrow and retracts his hand once it’s clear that Eren isn’t going to shake it. He glances at Jean and then back at Eren again. His lips quirk upwards in a confused smile. “So we’ve met before? I apologize, but I don’t seem to remember you …” 

“It’s … Armin, it’s me,” Eren says. He feels absolutely horrible for having to break the news to Armin this way, but Jean gestures for him to continue. He can’t really run from it now. Clearing his throat, he sits up straighter and, making eye contact with Armin, says, “It’s Eren.” 

“Eren?” His voice comes out in a hushed whisper and he begins to stand up only for Jean to yank him down by the arm. Armin's eyes are widened in disbelief and he blinks a few times, mouth wide open but no words coming out. “Oh my god,” he finally says, slumping against the leather booth. 

“I know. It’s a lot to take in,” Jean says, rubbing Armin’s back soothingly. 

“How long has he been back?” Armin asks before turning to Eren and asking again. “How long have you been back?” 

“Um, just since early this morning,” Eren says, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. He’s not sure he should proceed with the rest of his announcement. If Armin is this upset about Eren’s sudden return, hearing about Eren’s new undead status probably won’t make the blond feel any better. 

“Eren, you’ve been gone for an entire year,” Armin says. He’s sitting up now, thick eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he assumes his lecturing pose reserved for when he’s absolutely pissed because either Jean or Eren (or both) have done something stupid. Eren prepares himself. “Does your mother even know you’re home? You left without any kind of note. We didn’t hear from you for a whole year, Eren! Everyone thought you were dead!”

Some people glance over as Armin raises his voice, but quickly go back to their own conversations. Eren and Jean only glance at Armin, sitting there silently as Armin seethes. Eren can’t remember the last time seeing Armin so angry. He sits there staring at the table, picking at his fingernails nervously. A waiter comes by and places Jean’s order of long black and cappuccino on the table and Jean says a polite “thank you.” After a moment, Armin rests with his back against the leather seat and, eyes closed, takes a deep breath. As he breathes, his lips move wordlessly, counting seconds. Finally, he opens his eyes and looks at both Eren and Jean for an explanation. 

Jean cups his hands around his warm mug of coffee. He blows on it, the silence between the three of them so loud it’s almost deafening, and he takes a long sip. Jean sets his mug down and puts an arm around Armin, looks him in the eye, and says, “Well, we weren’t wrong about him being dead.” 

Armin blinks. “What?” 

“I mean … Eren died the night he went missing,” Jean says. He’s completely focused on Armin right now, so he can’t see the way Eren is currently sinking down in the booth, so low that he’s almost under the table. “He’s a …” Here, Jean eyes dart quickly around the little coffee shop to make sure nobody’s eavesdropping and, for good measure, lowers his voice as he whispers, “Zombie.” 

“He’s a what?” Armin practically screeches. 

Jean clamps a hand over Armin’s mouth and puts a finger to his lips. “Calm down. People are going to kill Eren if they find out, so keep your voice down.” He keeps his hand over Armin’s mouth until Armin, looking at Jean and then Eren, gives him a nod. Jean gestures at Armin’s coffee. “Come on. Drink up. It’ll make you feel better.” 

“Caffeine isn’t actually good for stress,” Armin mumbles, but he still picks up his mug and takes a disgruntled sip of his coffee, practically glaring at Eren and Jean. He’s drunk half of his coffee by the time he sets down the mug. Gesturing at the two troublemakers, he says, “Okay. You two, explain.” 

“Um. Well, there isn’t really that much to it,” Eren says, still slumped in his seat. He pulls his hood over so it covers his eyes and tugs nervously on the strings. “It’s just … I went hiking that night I went missing. Someone … knocked me out? And, like, strangled me or something. I must have died because when I woke up I was just … like this.” He sits up a little bit, pulling at his sleeves so that he can show Armin his hands. Jean had made sure to cover most of Eren’s skin with makeup, but the palms of his hands are still deathly pale with prominent veins of purple and blue running underneath. 

“Jesus Christ,” Armin says. On the bright side, he doesn’t look as mad as he was at the beginning of this conversation, but he does look very tired. Turning to Jean, he asks, “And he came to you? And you guys decided to tell me?” 

“That’s pretty much the gist of it,” Jean nods. He notices Armin hurriedly tapping away at his phone. Jean raises an eyebrow. “... What are you doing?” 

“Cancelling all my meetings for today,” Armin mutters. He looks up at Eren through his lashes. “This is more important than dealing with tourists stealing money from the fountain in the square.” 

Eren wrinkles his nose. “They’re still doing that? Assholes. I thought you guys were having a sign put in that told people they can’t do that.” 

“Yeah, well apparently they don’t know how to fucking read,” Armin replies, tucking his phone back into the pocket of his trousers. He takes another sip of his coffee, slower this time so he doesn’t down the rest of it immediately. His brow is furrowed in a way that makes little wrinkles appear on his forehead, which means he’s thinking of a plan. It makes Eren regret not going to Armin first instead of Jean. After a moment, Armin taps on the table and then points at Eren and Jean. “Alright, we’re going to talk to Annie.” 

“Wait, right now?” Eren asks, alarmed. He was all for letting Annie know when he first talked to Jean about it, but he was thinking about letting her know a little down the line, maybe in a week or two. Now just seems like … a bad idea. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Jean frowns. It’s clear he’s still against it. “What if she …?” He makes a slice motion across his neck with a finger, tilting his head a bit. 

Eren knows that the gesture is supposed to mimic Annie cutting his head off, but he can’t help thinking about how Jean’s neck looks so delectable when it’s stretched out like he’s inviting Eren to take a bite. God, he really needs to stop. He forces himself to look at Armin so that he’s not tempted to suck on Jean’s Adam’s apple. 

“Why haven’t you killed him yet?” Armin asks Jean. 

“Well, because … Eren’s my friend?” Jean says, but his voice goes up at the end. 

Eren looks at Jean suspiciously. “Why did you say it like that?”

“Annie’s his friend too. Have more faith in her,” Armin says, ignoring Eren. 

“Okay, fine, but we shouldn’t go without proper preparation first,” Jean says. Eren thinks Jean is getting up to reach for a napkin and maybe scribble out some semblance of a plan, but he just waves Armin out of the way and, after Armin gets up, gets out of the booth and goes over to the counter to order something, leaving Armin and Eren alone for the first time. 

Eren fidgets in his seat, avoiding eye contact with Armin. He can see from Armin’s reflection in the table’s surface that the blond is staring at him with arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t really thought about how Armin would feel about all of this ― learning Eren died, that he came back to life, that he was afraid of telling Armin everything. When was the last time he had ever kept anything from Armin? Aside from the obligatory surprises hidden from Armin like Christmas gifts or unexpected parties to celebrate the little blond genius’ latest academic achievements, Eren always told Armin everything and vice versa. Eren had been so worried about keeping his new identity a secret, he didn’t think about how it would affect Armin. Of course, Armin would be shocked, but he would always accept Eren in the end. He doesn’t know why he thought Armin’s reaction would be any different. 

“Sorry!” Eren suddenly blurts out. He digs his nails into the denim of his jeans, still unable to meet Armin’s eyes. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you first. I just … panicked. I didn’t want you to freak out or … be disgusted by me.” 

“Eren, I would never …” Armin’s voice grows soft and he reaches out, holding his palm upward as he invites Eren to place his hand in his. When Eren looks up, Armin’s looking at him with the most sympathetic eyes. “I’ll get over it. It’s not really about me anyway. I can’t imagine everything you’ve been through, especially since you had to deal with so much of this on your own up until recently. You know you can always tell me anything. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you.” 

Eren places his hand in Armin’s. His skin is so rough and cold compared to Armin’s smooth and warm hands. His hand is so disgusting in comparison that he’s afraid that Armin might pull away, but Armin just holds onto him tightly and Eren thinks he’s about to cry. 

“I really missed talking to you. Dealing with this all by myself … it was almost unbearable.” It’s embarrassing how choked up it’s getting, but Eren can’t help the tears that are beginning to sting at the corner of his eyes. When Armin offers him a napkin to wipe them away, Eren hastily accepts and dabs at the corners of his eyes before his makeup can be ruined. “I’m really sorry. I should have told you first. I don’t know why I didn’t.” 

“You were scared,” Armin says gently. He hands Eren a few more napkins and motions for Eren to blow his nose, which the zombie does obediently. Armin politely waits for Eren to finish before continuing. “Honestly, going to Jean was a good idea. He’s good under pressure.” 

“You are, too,” Eren insists, but Armin shakes his head with a smile. Eren clutches the used napkins in his fist. “I mean, you handled this a lot better than I thought you would. I honestly thought you would faint if you found out and I’d … I’d eat you if you were lying unconscious in front of me.” 

He expects Armin to be horrified, but Armin only shrugs. “I’ve been going to therapy after you, you know, disappeared. It helps a lot,” Armin explains. His hands cup the mug of coffee on the table, his index fingers tapping against the speckled ceramic. “I used to go twice a week, but now I only go once every other week. It helps me manage my anxiety and stress. Not just with you but everything in general.” 

“Ah,” Eren nods, a little dazed. He does notice that Armin is a little different from before. Armin used to always look at his watch, anxious about upcoming deadlines even if they were hours away. It was normal for Armin to always be moving. Maybe it was him jiggling his leg or tapping his fingers, the movements always jittery like he was a ticking clock. Now, he sits in front of Eren, a little concerned but a lot calmer than he used to be. “Has a lot changed since I’ve been gone?” Eren wonders aloud. 

“Hmm? Not that I can think of,” Armin replies with a shake of his head. His shoulder slump a bit as he tries to think of any news worth sharing. “I’m sure Jean must have told you most of it already. Annie still works at the bookstore with Hanji. Reiner still teaches kindergarten. He and Bertholdt are still very much in love, by the way. Ah, Historia …” His voice trails off and he looks cautiously at Eren. 

“I know already,” Eren says, casually waving away any concern Armin might have about bringing up the topic even though thinking about Historia still stings. “Don’t worry about it. Jean told me. It’s fine. It would have been selfish to expect her to wait for me for an entire year.” 

“Sorry,” Armin says. He takes a sip of his coffee, finishing up the rest of it. “If it’s any consolation, she was really distraught when you went missing. She took it pretty hard. Maybe if this all works out we could tell her …?” 

Eren only shrugs. He’s not sure how it would work out, him being a zombie and Historia being a human, but he appreciates Armin’s optimism. “It’s fine. My current condition doesn’t really leave me any room to think about any romantic entanglements.” 

Someone dangles a bag of donuts in their faces and the two friends look up to see Jean. 

“You’re right. Focus on not getting killed by Annie first,” Jean says. He gestures for the two to get up and follow him out the coffee shop. After generously tipping the barista, Jean leads Armin and Eren towards the bookstore Annie works at, donuts in one hand and his baseball bat dangling in the other. 

“Do you really think that donuts are going to be enough to get Annie to not kill me?” Eren asks nervously. 

Jean shrugs. “We’re just going to have to wait and see.” 

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

When they open the door, Eren is hit with the nostalgic scent of musty books and cinnamon candles. Hanji always described it as the scent of autumn, replacing the cinnamon candles with peppermint-, lilac-, and peach-scented candles in the winter, spring, and summer, respectively. Eren keeps his head down and his hood pulled over his face as ordered by Jean, but he can see that the bookstore has the same creaky floorboards and faded-red “Welcome!” mat. 

“Hey, what are you fellows doing here so early in the morning?” asks a voice, chipper and bright. It’s definitely Hanji, Eren thinks. “You guys don’t have work today? No important council meetings, Armin?” 

“We took work off today,” Armin replies quickly. He links his arm around Eren, trying to tug the zombie behind him even though Armin’s far too small to hide Eren. “Annie and Reiner’s old classmate came to visit and Reiner asked us to show him around since he has work. We thought he’d like to come see Annie for a bit before we show him the rest of the town.” 

“Oh, really? You’re from the city then?” Hanji asks, getting dangerously close. They almost succeed in peering into Eren’s hood, but Jean quickly yanks Eren behind him, standing in between them. Unfortunately, this means Eren is pressed up against Jean and while Jean’s thick coat hides most of Jean’s shape, it can’t hide Jean’s broad shoulders and Eren almost whimpers because not being able to take even one bite into Jean’s shoulder is killing him. 

“Yeah, but he’s, ah, shy around people. He has a bit of social anxiety when he meets new people,” Jean says, glancing at Eren. 

Normally, Eren would scoff. He’s the least shy person he knows aside from maybe Reiner, but right now he’s busy trying to hold his breath so that he doesn’t breathe in Jean’s earthy scent. One sniff and Eren knows he’ll be a goner, tackling Jean to the ground and nibbling on his ears. Hanji spends so much time staring suspiciously at Eren that the zombie thinks he might lose consciousness. 

“Ah, my apologies then,” Hanji says, convinced after seeing how Eren is beginning to sway unsteadily just trying to stand up. They take a few steps back and smile cheerfully at the trio. “Annie’s in the basement doing some inventory. Please feel free to come back up and browse if you’re curious. I’ll be sure to give you guys enough breathing space.” 

“Thanks, Hanji,” Jean says, already shoving Armin and Eren towards the basement. 

They shuffle down the stairs, nearly tripping over each other in their haste. It’s dark in the basement aside from the flickering light overhead. Eren’s only been here a few times; he’s never been an avid reader, but there were times where Annie or Armin would call a meeting at the basement of the bookstore because not many people visited and Hanji didn’t mind if Annie took the space for herself. Right now, Annie is sitting at the table in the center of the basement, glasses perched on her nose as she checks an order for a pickup. It’s only when Jean stops in front of the table and coughs that she looks up, bored. 

“Kirstein,” she says curtly. Annie raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have work?” 

“I had to take work off,” Jean says with a shrug. He glances at her and then at the open door behind them. “Do you mind if we talk here for a moment? Preferably with some … privacy.” 

“Without Reiner?” she asks. 

“It’s not something we can talk about with him,” says Jean. 

“But we can talk about it with … whoever that is?” Annie says, craning her neck to take a better look at Eren. 

Jean stands in front of Eren, blocking him from Annie’s view. “We’ll explain it in a bit just … if you could close the door.” 

Annie looks suspiciously at Jean, not budging an inch. 

“Annie … please,” Armin pleads timidly. 

Annie looks from Jean to Armin. It’s not that she has a soft spot for Armin, but she trusts him the most because, as she said once, “He’s the only one who has any sense in this stupid group.” There have been times where she’s disagreed with Armin, arguing with him because she couldn’t understand his thought process, but she always follows him in the end even if she does so grudgingly. It’s no surprise when she finally stands up from her chair, letting it screech across the wooden floor as she gets up, and stomps over to the door, glaring at the three of them the entire time. 

“Hey, Hanji! I’m going to need this room for a bit. Knock if you need anything,” Annie calls, sticking her head out the door. She waits for an acknowledgement from her boss before slamming the door shut behind her. Annie stomps down the stairs and stands in front of the trio, foot tapping impatiently and arms crossed against her chest. Even though she stands at a very short five feet, she’s still incredibly intimidating. 

“Um, so,” Jean mumbles, looking at the floor. He glances back at Eren and Armin for help. 

“Just spit it out,” Annie says. 

Jean stands there frozen for a minute before saying suddenly, “Eren’s back and he’s a zombie.” 

Annie blinks. Once. Twice. She looks at Eren, takes him in. He can see her analyzing him, piecing together all the pieces ― his height, the way he slouches, the way Jean’s clothes don’t quite fit him ― and he closes his eyes as she widens her, awaiting the inevitable smack that’ll knock him to the floor and crack his head open like an egg. It never comes. 

Someone moves swiftly in front of him and Eren hears Jean grunt and what he’s almost certain is Annie growling. Reluctantly, Eren opens his eyes to see Jean grabbing Annie by the wrist. In her hand is a hefty book that she must have grabbed from one of the shelves behind her. Annie’s glaring up at Jean, her eyes blazing a fiery blue, while the makeup artist struggles to keep her from bludgeoning Eren with a six-inch piece of literature. 

“Annie,” Jean grunts through gritted teeth. His hand trembles and it’s clear that he can’t hold Annie back much longer. “Hear us out first.” 

“Don’t need to,” Annie growls. Her eyes flicker towards Eren and he flinches under her gaze. “I’ll kill him anyway, so I might as well just kill him sooner than later.” 

“Annie, he’s not like a normal zombie,” Jean says. He stumbles back a little bit, Annie beginning to overpower him, but regains his footing. “If he were, Armin and I would be eaten by now.” 

“Stop getting attached to a zombie just because he used to be our friend,” Annie snarls. She tries to yank herself free from Jean’s grip, but he doesn’t let go. “Jean, I can kill you and the zombie. Let go!” 

Armin stands in front of Eren, arms trembling as he holds them out protectively. “Annie, please,” the blond begs, bottom lip quivering. “I know it looks bad but just … you can’t kill him. I know he’s a zombie now but … he’s still our friend. He’s still Eren.” 

Annie’s hand is still up, the book raised as a weapon, but her eyes are softer now as she looks at Armin. After a moment, her grip on the book relaxes and she finally lowers her arm, and Jean lets out a sigh of relief. Her stance is still defensive, back stiff as she stands with her feet apart as if ready to attack if Eren shows any sign that he wants to eat them. 

“I hate all of you guys,” she grumbles, glowering at Eren. 

“We know.” Jean sighs and rubs his face. He picks up the bag he had dropped on the floor in his haste to protect Eren and shoves it at Annie. “Here. They’re your favorite.” 

Annie raises an eyebrow but accepts the bag. Peering inside, she asks, “Donuts?” 

“They’re the powdered ones,” Eren says, remembering out loud. His voice is shaking, still terrified that Annie might beat him to death with a dictionary or nearby textbook, but he thinks this might serve as proof that he remembers her. That he’s not like the other zombies that just go around eating people and groaning unintelligibly. “The ones with the jelly inside.” 

She looks up at him and he freezes, but then she sighs and walks over to the table, slumping back into her chair. When she gestures at the rest of them to take a seat, Eren thinks that he might just survive this meeting. 

“So, our childhood friend has managed to come back after going missing for a year, but now he’s a zombie.” Annie clasps her hands together in front of her and looks at everyone at the table, and the group nods at her in confirmation. She keeps the six-inch novel within reach beside her. Unlike most people, Annie doesn’t carry around a weapon to fight off zombies. She doesn’t need one. Jean has a baseball bat and Armin, who isn’t as strong as either of them, has a hefty wrench that dangles from his belt loop. Annie is one of the rare people who can fight off zombies with her bare hands. One kick from her and zombies get knocked down easily, brains spilling from their skulls like spaghetti spilled from a pan. It’s what happens when your dad owns the martial arts studio down the streets. Of course, Annie doesn’t usually fistfight with zombies, choosing to just take whatever object is nearby and bludgeoning them to death with it. Less blood gets on her clothes that way. 

“That’s … the gist,” Armin says. He chuckles to ease the atmosphere, but it comes out sounding forced. He clears his throat and says, “He really isn’t dangerous though. Jean’s been with him since last night and I met him this morning.” 

“He says he’s a vegetarian,” Jean offers. 

“I said kind of like a vegetarian,” Eren says, glaring at Jean. To Annie, he explains, “I’m not a cannibal or anything. I haven’t … I’ve never eaten anyone.” 

“Even if you did eat someone, you wouldn’t be a cannibal,” Armin says absentmindedly. He has a habit of correcting people without thinking about it. “You’d have to eat other zombies to be considered a cannibal because humans and zombies aren’t exactly the same species.” 

Eren blinks. He hadn’t really thought about that before. The thought of digging his teeth into another zombie, someone with half-rotted flesh like him, sagging skin over an emaciated body. He almost gags. Shaking his head profusely, he hurriedly says, “I don’t want to eat any of them. I don’t want to eat zombies or humans.” 

Annie doesn’t look convinced. “First time for everything,” she says dismissively. She rests her cheek in her hand and looks at Armin. “Look, I know you’re attached to Eren because we all grew up with him, but it’s in a zombie’s nature to eat people. He could give in to his urges at any moment.” 

“No, he’s different. I mean it, Annie!” Armin says as Annie rolls her eyes. He scoots up to the edge of his seat, hands beginning to gesture wildly the way they usually do when Armin is about to give a long explanation. “I’m not just saying this because it’s Eren. He’s fully conscious of what he is. He speaks, he thinks, he … he’s nothing like the other zombies we’ve seen before.” 

Annie slouches in her seat and folds her arms against her chest. Grudgingly, she says, “Go on.” 

“With Eren, we have a zombie that can listen and … and work with us! We’ve had zombies before. In fact, our small town has far more cases of zombie appearances than the city, but we’ve never looked into it because we’re too busy killing them!” Armin says. He’s bringing up a lot of good points that Eren has never thought about before. Letting Armin know about his zombie situation was definitely a good decision. 

“And he can help us how?” Annie snorts. “Is he gonna tell the other zombies to fuck off?” 

“No, nothing like that,” Armin says with a shake of his head. “In fact, we should probably keep the fact that he’s alive ― or at least that he’s a zombie ― from everyone, especially if we want to find out who killed him.” 

Annie does a double-take. “Wait, someone murdered you?” she asks Eren. She looks at Jean. “Why didn’t any of you guys mention this to me before?” 

“Ah.” Eren can only blink. He had honestly forgotten that detail between all his plans to reintegrate himself into his hometown and telling his friends he’s a zombie. It hadn’t occurred to him that his murderer still might be running around killing other people. 

“It … slipped our minds,” Jean says sheepishly, ducking his head. 

Armin rubs at his arm awkwardly. “We kind of forgot to tell you because we were a little busy preventing you from murdering Eren,” Armin mumbles as Annie glares at them like they’re the biggest group of idiots she’s ever met. “If someone killed Eren and he turned into a zombie, then maybe someone is actively killing people and turning them into zombies.” 

“Hm.” Annie plays with the silver hoop that dangles from her earlobe, rubbing the metal between her thumb and index finger. “It would explain all of the tourists that went missing only to come back as zombies.” 

It is a well-known fact in the town that an alarming number of zombies that appear often wear the clothes and share the same physical (although somewhat decayed) characteristics of tourists that have gone missing. Not many people batted an eyelash though. The townspeople figured that the tourists just didn’t heed warnings about hiking in the mountains late at night; only people who have lived in the town their whole lives went into the mountains at night because the paths could be confusing and difficult to navigate in the dark, and even then it was dangerous. Of course, the tourists never listened and most went up there anyway. Some never came back, but the most townspeople suspected that those that returned as zombies were doing some stupid satanic ritual or trying out some urban legend. 

“Wait, you think someone’s out there killing people and turning them into zombies?” Jean asks, wrinkling his nose. “Why would anyone do that? They always turn out horrific.” 

“Most of them, maybe,” Armin says. “But maybe they aren’t supposed to. Maybe they’re supposed to be more like … Eren.” He casts a side glance at the zombie. 

“Me?” He’s flattered that Armin believes him to be the highest quality of zombie, but he’s not sure he’s following everything the councilman’s saying. There’s nothing impressive about him. He’s lost most of his muscle mass, his eyes are wet and watery, and his breath always smells rotten. What would anyone want to do with him? 

“What’s the advantage of an Eren zombie versus other zombies?” Jean asks. “I mean, they’re not that much different.” 

Eren makes a squeak of indignation, but Armin ignores him. 

“You could essentially have, if you wanted, an undead army,” Armin explains patiently. “Eren doesn’t move the same he did when he was alive, but he’s a lot faster than other zombies. Also, as I’ve said before, he knows he’s a zombie. He knows his own weaknesses. He can dodge attacks that come at his head. We could probably stab him anywhere else and he’d be fine. As long as he keeps his head safe, he’s pretty much immortal.” 

Annie looks contemplatively at Eren, like she’s trying to decide whether or not to stab Eren in the thigh with her hairpin just to test Armin’s theory. 

“This doesn’t seem very well thought-out,” Jean murmurs. “There must be easier ways to take over the world.” 

Armin shrugs. “This is just a theory. We’d have to catch the culprit to find out their real motive. We should do some research first though.” He’s already pushing himself out of his seat and glancing at the shelves. “Of course, we should keep this all between ourselves. No need to cause panic right now, especially without solid evidence. No letting this slip to our parents or friends or … potential significant others.” He subtly glances at Annie. 

“I’m not going to tell anyone, so don’t worry,” she snaps with a roll of her eyes, but her cheeks are flushing a bright shade of pink. 

“You’re still not with Mina yet?” Eren asks incredulously. “I can’t believe you haven’t made any moves since I died, and it’s been an entire year.” 

“Maybe I want to make sure everything’s perfect before I ask her,” Annie glares. With a sigh she says, “Even if we were dating, I wouldn’t tell her any of this. It’d probably just scare her away.” 

“You never know,” Jean says in a sing-song voice, but he shuts up immediately when Annie snarls at him. He gets up from his chair, pushing it in, and re-wraps his scarf around his neck. “I should get going. Good luck with research!” 

“What!” Eren squawks. “You’re not going to help us?” 

“Nope,” Jean replies cheerfully, tossing his apartment keys to Eren who almost doesn’t catch them. He’s already walking up the steps, waving goodbye to Armin and Annie who hardly pay him any attention. “I only took the morning off today, so I can’t spend all day with you. I’ll see you at the apartment though. Take care of him, Armin.” 

“See you,” Armin says without looking up. He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, brows furrowed as he brainstorms his next move. Eren tries to keep his attention on Armin because looking at Annie, who’s currently looking at him like she’s waiting for an opportunity to kill him, is stressful. After a moment, Armin says, “I’m going to collect all the newspapers of the missing tourists, the ones that showed up later as zombies and the ones that were never found. Maybe they all have something in common. Annie, can you and Eren look at examples of zombies? It can be in humans or animals. It might be helpful to understand Eren’s condition more.” 

“I’m on it,” Annie says, already getting up to peruse the books on the basement shelves. 

“Okay, I’ll get the newspapers from upstairs,” Armin says, getting up from his chair. He’s about to leave when a panicked Eren grabs his arm and yanks him back. “Ah, is there something you need, Eren?” 

“Um.” Eren glances back at Annie, who’s staring at him amusedly from behind a bookshelf. He swallows nervously. “I … you’re leaving me alone,” he says stupidly. 

Armin blinks. “Annie’s here,” he points out, not making the connection between Eren’s knocking knees and Annie’s presence. 

“I … I know,” Eren stammers. He wants to get on his knees and beg Armin not to leave him alone with Annie, but he’s pretty sure Armin would insist that it was fine. Also, he doesn’t want Annie to see him looking so pathetic. Even if she does want to kill him, they’re still technically friends and he doesn’t want her to hold this moment over him if he does somehow manage to last five minutes alone with her in the same room. 

“Just go. He’s being stupid,” Annie says with a roll of her eyes. 

“Alright. I’ll only be a minute.” Armin gives Eren a reassuring smile, pries himself from the zombie’s grip, and disappears up the steps, making sure to shut the door after him as he greets Hanji upstairs. 

Eren turns around, arms held up in order to protect himself from whatever projectile Annie plans to hurl at him. The blow never comes and Eren, though still on his guard, slowly lowers his arms. He’s surprised when he spots Annie still flipping through books between the shelves, a few books clamped beneath her arm. 

“You’re really … doing research?” Eren asks, dumbfounded. 

Annie looks up, eyebrow raised. “Of course. I’m not crazy about the idea of letting a zombie walk around town, but I trust Armin,” she replies. She finishes flipping through the book she’s currently scanning through and puts it on the shelf with a shake of her head. Walking towards the table, she sets them down and shoves them in Eren’s direction. “And I know I did try to kill you a few minutes ago but … Armin’s right. You’re not like the other zombies. You’re … you. And we’re friends, so I should help you out if I can.” Annie pauses and then adds, “But I won’t hesitate to kill you if you eat anyone.” 

Eren feels oddly touched. He thinks it’s the most Annie’s ever spoken about their friendship. “Thanks,” he says. He approaches the table and reaches for one of the books that Annie had pushed towards him, frowning when he reads the cover. Wrinkling his nose, he asks, “Why do you want me to read about Haitian Vodou?” 

“Because it’s relevant,” Annie replies in a tired tone that’s oddly reminiscent of the one she’d use whenever he asked her for help on projects for school. She takes a seat and picks a book from her pile, checking the table of contents before flipping to a certain page. “They had a practice of resurrecting the dead.” 

“Like necromancy?” Eren asks. He also flips through his own book but all he sees are chapters on Haitian Vodou beliefs about the soul, which he finds somewhat interesting. His eyes wander across the page, distracted until Annie slams a hand down on the pages and forces him to look up. 

“Not exactly like necromancy,” Annie says with a shake of her head. She pushes her book towards Eren. It’s opened to a section about something called a bòkò. Apparently, they’re individuals that deal with the supernatural, although that’s the incredibly oversimplified definition Eren takes away from the lengthy paragraphs of text. Annie continues, “Necromancy comes from the practice of divination; it deals more with the spirits of the dead than resurrecting someone. A bokor actually revives someone after death.” 

“Ah,” Eren nods with a frown. He’s not sure how Annie got all that. The words in front of him are just swimming around, none of them making any sense. Eren’s never been that good at doing research. He just takes Annie’s word for it. “You know an awful lot about zombies already.” 

Annie shrugs, pulling the book back so that she can look through it. “I know some stuff. It’s good to know a little bit of everything when you’re working at a bookstore,” she replies, flipping a page. “Sometimes tourists come by asking for things on zombies. I haven’t done much research on it. Figured there wasn’t really a point until now.” 

“Hmm.” Eren flips through the book, stopping when his eye catches on the word “zombie.” Apparently, the process of turning someone into a zombie includes giving an individual a certain concoction and, after the person has passed on, revive them with another drug. Eren’s not sure if any of this happened to him. If it had, he can’t remember. “So you think this is what happened to me?” 

Annie wrinkles her nose. “Not really, no, but it might be helpful to know. It’s possible that, if someone did turn you into a zombie, they use a similar method,” she replies. Annie peruses through the book. Eren’s not sure how she’s able to take in any information looking if she’s looking through the book so quickly, but Annie’s always been better at research papers than Eren was. “Do you mind looking at these? I’m going to start looking for examples of zombie-like behavior in animals.” 

“Ah, okay,” Eren says. He feels a little overwhelmed when Annie shoves her stack of Haitian vodou books at him, but he doesn’t want to complain, especially when Annie and Armin are going above and beyond with researching for him. 

They don’t do very much talking after that. Annie goes in and out of the basement, piling more and more books onto the table. Some books are about animals — deer, carpenter ants, different parasites — while others are specifically about diseases — rabies and the African sleeping sickness. Eren’s relieved that Annie doesn’t ask him to take any new books; he feels like looking at vodou is going to take him all night, although he does feel bad about Annie looking at a dozen different topics. He’d offer to take one or two more topics just to lighten her load, but he feels like she’d just brush him off. This scenario is awfully reminiscent of when they’d be paired for school projects and Annie would end up doing all of it because she said Eren was just going to “ruin everything.” (To be fair, she wasn’t exactly wrong in saying that. The one time she had allowed him to help during a chemistry lab, he set off the fire alarm and they got an F. He can understand why Annie doesn’t let him do anything.)

As Eren is reading about the role of bokors in Haitian vodou, Armin bursts through the door, a pile of newspapers in his arms. The basement door falls shut behind him as the blond walks down the stairs. When he gets to the table, he lets the papers fall from his arms with a loud thud. 

“The good news is that I managed to obtain newspapers about missing tourists and every zombie sighting over the past five years,” Armin says, his mouth set in a grim line. “The bad news is -” 

“That’s a shitton of papers,” Annie finishes for him. 

“It is,” Armin agrees with a nod. He glances at the pile of books between Annie and Eren. “There’s probably more out there from previous years that the newspapers might have missed, but this is a good start. I’d suggest we’d split these up, but it looks like you guys have your hands full already …” 

“Ah,” Eren says, sitting up a bit. He motions to the pile of books in front of him. It’s considerably smaller than Annie’s pile. “Annie only gave me these. If you want, I could -” 

“No!” 

The combined voices of both Annie and Armin shouting at him make the zombie flinch in surprise. 

“I mean,” Armin coughs, clearing his throat. “That won’t be necessary. It’ll probably be easier if we all stick to a topic.” He smiles politely at Eren. 

Eren sulks for a little bit in his seat. Neither Annie nor Armin’s reactions are unexpected. Like Annie, Armin also knows how bad Eren is at schoolwork and doing research in general. However, Armin always let Eren do a fair share of the work, preferring to have Eren learn alongside him even if it meant lowering their overall grade to a B (and, on some occasions, a C). It makes sense that Armin wouldn’t allow Eren to take more work than he can handle. 

Eren slumps, knocking his back against the chair, and lets out a loud sigh. Both Annie and Armin ignore him, leaving the disgruntled zombie no choice but to do the work assigned to him. 

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

They decide to give it a rest by noon because none of the words Eren is reading make sense anymore and his constant finger-tapping on the table is so distracting that Annie makes it clear that she will absolutely kill Eren regardless of whether or not he’s a zombie. Although Eren insists on coming back after a small lunch break, Armin and Annie (mostly Armin) assure him that he doesn’t need to return; everyone (re: Annie and Armin) might work better if they do research on their own, Armin suggests, so Eren packs up the Haitian vodou books that he feels are most useful. Annie stays behind, but Armin also packs his things to walk Eren back to Jean’s apartment. 

The two of them say their goodbyes to Annie and head up the stairs. Armin does most of the talking with Hanji, thanking them for not disturbing the quartet’s basement meeting, and Hanji seems to accept Eren’s mumbled thank you as well as the zombie and councilman hurry out the door. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to buy something for you from the market?” Armin asks Eren once they’ve left the bookstore. It’s a bit difficult to hear Armin because he’s mumbling in his scarf, but Eren figures that Armin’s only doing that to prevent people from overhearing their conversation or reading their lips. “I could even grab something from the butcher if you prefer something fresh.” 

Something fresh — freshly slaughtered, the smell of the farm still lingering on it, blood dripping from a chunk of thick, juicy, meat. It sounds better than anything Jean might have in his fridge, but Eren doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want Armin seeing him salivate over raw meat. He doesn’t want to risk Armin watching him eating it, shoving raw beef hide into his mouth and nearly choking on it because he’s so desperate to gorge on any kind of flesh. No, Eren thinks with a shake of his head. Armin might be fine with it, but Eren certainly won’t allow his friend to see him acting so monstrously. 

“It’s fine. Jean says he still has some pork in his freezer that I could eat,” Eren says with a forced smile. It’s probably all dried out by now. Even if he does defrost it, the meat will probably have lost all its flavor. Still, it’s not as if he can be picky with his food. 

“Well, if you’re sure okay with that,” Armin says, sounding unconvinced. They walk a few paces forward, passing by the ramen shop and electronics store. “You’re fine with living with Jean, too?” 

Eren shrugs. It’s not like he has many options here. He doesn’t have money to rent a place of his own and he’s not sure how he’d go about getting an apartment without alerting someone’s attention about his presence. “I don’t have any other place to go.” 

“You could live at my place for a while,” Armin suggests. 

“You live with your parents. Even if they don’t recognize me as I am right now, it’s going to be difficult to explain why you have to buy so much raw meat or why I never eat in front of people,” Eren points out with a shake of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, Eren sees Armin open his mouth, but Eren knows the blond is going to suggest living with Annie, which is an even worse option than Jean. Holding a hand up to stop Armin from even letting Annie’s name leave his mouth, Eren says, “Don’t. Annie’s going to kill me if I even breathe wrong. Besides, Mina might get the wrong idea if she finds out a mysterious man is living in Annie’s apartment and then MinAni will never happen.” 

Armin kicks at a pebble, grimacing. “I guess you’re right.” He looks at Eren through his eyelashes, barely lifting his head. “You’re really alright though? You’ll tell me if you need anything, right? I really meant it when I said we were friends. Nothing has to change just because you’re … you know.” He gestures at Eren. 

Obviously, some things have to change, but Eren’s still touched by Armin’s words. “Thanks. I’m managing just fine now, but I’ll let you know if I need anything. You guys are all doing more than enough.” Eren takes a deep breath and sighs through his nose. “I mean, I always knew I could count on you guys but I never thought I’d find out like this.” 

“Right?” Armin laughs. He runs a hand through his blond hair, letting the locks fall into his face messily. “It’s not a situation anyone would want to be stuck in, but at least you’re not alone.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “Reiner would have your back too, you know.” 

“I know,” Eren sighs. “It’s just that Reiner can be a bit …” 

“A bit what?” a voice says as hands suddenly cling to the chain fence surrounding the local elementary school. 

Eren’s frozen in surprise, but Armin lets out a loud yelp and nearly falls over backward at the sight of Reiner behind the fence. Hastily, Eren yanks Armin upward and shoves the small blond in front of him, trying to make himself as small as possible even though there’s no way that Armin’s tiny form can hide him. He takes a peek at Reiner from behind Armin’s shoulder and sees his old childhood friend looking curiously at him, craning his neck to get a good look at Eren. 

“O-oh, h-hey! I d-didn’t know you were d-done with your morning shift already, R-Reiner,” Armin stammers, blinking rapidly. He backs up, stepping on Eren’s toes. 

“Yeah, it’s noon. I was going to go out for my lunch break before the afternoon group comes in an hour,” Reiner replies. He tilts his head, a lopsided grin on his face. “Maybe your friend wants to join us?” 

Panicked, Eren shakes his head. 

“No!” Armin shouts, holding his hands up. “He’s in a … hurry. I was really just going to walk him to the station -” 

“Then I’ll walk with you guys!” Reiner says eagerly. “I love meeting new people.” Before either Armin or Eren can protest, Reiner starts to jog towards the gate to join them. 

“What do we do?” Armin panic-whispers to Eren, keeping a strained smile on his face. He looks at the zombie, blue eyes wide and terrified. “Eren, I think you should run.” 

“No way! I couldn’t outrun him when I was human and I definitely can’t outrun him now,” Eren says. He doesn’t mention that his knees are shaking way too much for him to even take a step. 

“Oh my god, I can’t do this,” Armin says through gritted teeth. He looks as if he’s about to cry even as he’s waving to Reiner. “I can’t lie to him. I don’t remember the last time I lied to any of you. He’s going to see right through me.” 

“God, Jean never should have left us,” Eren mutters, casting his eyes downward as Reiner stops in front of them. A hand appears in front of him — strong, sturdy, meaty — and Eren thinks it’s only a matter of time before either he or Armin blow his cover. 

“Reiner Bruan. I’m the kindergarten teacher here,” Reiner says in his deep rumbling voice. He still holds his hand out, waiting for Eren to take it. “I take it you’re here on a visit. It’s a shame you’re leaving before we can really get to know each other.” 

“Reiner, he’s really in a hurry so if you don’t mind -” Armin begins, trying to push Reiner back. 

“Wait a second,” Reiner says, easily sidestepping Armin and getting even closer to Eren. There’s something in his voice, something so close to recognition, and it makes Eren’s unbeating heart drop to his stomach. A rough hand clamps onto Eren’s shoulder, forcing the zombie to look up and stare at Reiner’s beaming face. “Eren Jaeger? Jesus, we all thought you were dead!” He’s opening his arms, ready to crush Eren and his delicate zombie body in a bone-crushing hug. Eren’s closing his eyes, preparing himself for the end, but he hears a grunt and the thud of someone’s body hitting the ground. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry!” he hears Armin saying, voice shaking like he’s about to cry. 

Eren cracks open his eye to see Reiner sprawled out on the sidewalk holding his side. “Jesus, Armin, what the fuck was that for?” 

“You were about to hug him,” Armin says, shrinking where he stands. His head is beginning to disappear into his scarf like he’s some kind of turtle. 

“Yeah, because I haven’t seen him in literally a year,” Reiner replies, sitting up and brushing the pebbles sticking to the sleeve of his coat. He frowns up at Armin. “I don’t know why you’re trying to hide him. We held a vigil for him and everything.” 

Armin stares at Eren who only looks back at him. Armin blinks his big blue eyes at Eren and his mouth begins to open. Eren knows what Armin is about to say before he says it. He closes his eyes, bracing himself as Armin blurts out, “Because Eren’s a zombie.” 

Reiner doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just sits on the sidewalk, his head turning slowly to Eren and taking him in. The schoolteacher looks the zombie up and down and opens his mouth. “You guys are serious?” He looks from Eren to Armin and then back to Eren. When neither of them replies, he gets up with a sigh, brushing the rest of his clothes off. “Well, seeing as how both of you guys aren’t replying, it looks like you guys are dead serious.” He cracks a smile and Eren just wants to groan. This is precisely why he didn’t want to talk to Reiner.

“Okay, since you found out anyway do you mind if we … move somewhere more private?” Armin asks anxiously. 

“Alright, let’s go into my classroom then,” Reiner says, gesturing for them to follow him. He’s taking the news far better than anyone else had. 

“Really?” Eren says, hesitant to follow. “You’re not afraid I’ll eat anyone or anything?” 

“Nah, it’s empty right now,” Reiner says with a shake of his head. “And even if someone wanders in, I can just lock you in the crib.” The crib that Reiner is referring to is a wooden cage with an open top that Reiner’s students often liked to play in because it was at least a foot off the ground but, at least when you’re a five-year-old, feels as if you’re at least ten feet taller. Eren doubts that will be enough to hold him back if he happens to go on a hungry rampage, but Reiner seems pretty confident. 

“So, first things first,” Armin says nervously as the door shuts behind them. His fingers rub at the fabric of his scarf just to have something to do. “You can’t tell anyone.” 

Reiner raises an eyebrow. “Not even Bertholdt?” 

“Especially not Bertholdt,” Armin stresses. It’s not because telling Bertholdt will be more dangerous than telling anyone else but because Bertholdt is the person that Reiner is most likely to tell. The two keep no secrets between them. 

The schoolteacher clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “You know I tell him everything. He’s going to know something’s up sooner or later. Not keeping things from each other is one of the reasons why our relationship has lasted so long,” Reiner says. He huffs and leans against one of the classroom bookshelves. “One of the reasons why Annie and Mina haven’t even begun yet is because Annie just hides everything. She can’t even tell Mina how she really feels. I bet she’s keeping this whole zombie thing a secret too, right?” Reiner looks expectantly at Eren. 

“Well, yeah but -” 

“You and Historia were like that too,” Reiner continues, not realizing that he’s now diverting from the original topic. He pauses and then gives Eren a frown. “Do you know about Historia yet?” 

“Jean told me,” Eren says, somewhat flustered. He doesn’t know how his zombie confession is somehow turning into a conversation about his (now dead) love life. “But what do you mean Historia and I were ‘like that’?” 

“Oh, you know,” Reiner says with a dismissive shrug. When Eren looks at him with a puzzled expression because he doesn’t know, Reiner sighs exasperatedly and waves his hand around. “I’m just saying that if you had told Historia you were going to disappear a year ago, maybe she’d still be waiting for you.” 

“Why does everyone always say I should have given them a heads up?” Eren says, wanting to tear his hair out in frustration. “I couldn’t! I died, Reiner, someone killed me!” 

For once, Reiner is speechless and, not knowing what to say, just blinks at Eren with a blank expression. “I’m sorry,” Reiner says, still gawking at the zombie. “Did you just say someone killed you? Eren, were you murdered?” He looks to Armin, scandalized. “Why didn’t you say something about this earlier?” 

“I was about to, but someone started running off on a tangent,” Armin grumbles, loosening his scarf. He walks over and pulls out one of the plastic chairs the kids use and sits in it, hunching over with his elbows on his knees. He looks comically huge sitting there with such a glum face. “Look, it’s important that we keep this under wraps because we still don’t know who killed Eren. They could still be running around waiting for someone else to kill. If they find out Eren’s still alive, they might try to come for him again.” 

Reiner lets out a low whistle. “I figured you just got lost in the mountains and died of hypothermia.” 

Eren glares at him, offended. “Why would I get lost in the mountains? I’ve lived here my entire life! I’m not some dumb tourist,” he huffs. 

“Not a tourist, but still dumb,” Reiner teases, always managing to find humor in even the worst situations. His smile fades when he sees neither Eren nor Armin are smiling back at him. Expression now sober, Reiner pushes himself off the bookshelf and continues, “So who have you told aside from me? I assume Annie.” 

Armin nods. “We’ve told Annie.” 

“She’s reliable. Not like me. I’m a bit …” Reiner cocks his head to look at Eren, voice trailing off to let Eren finish what he had been saying earlier to Armin. 

Eren hangs his head, biting his lip in embarrassment. “Sorry.” 

“I’m only teasing,” Reiner laughs. He was never one to hold a grudge. He folds his arms across his chest. “I assume you told Jean, too. So everyone in the old gang?” 

Eren nods. “I told Jean first, actually. He did my makeup.” He kind of wants to rub his cheek sheepishly, but Jean will probably kill him if he comes home with smudged makeup. 

“Wow, you told Jean first? That’s interesting. You guys used to be at each other’s throats all the time,” Reiner hums. He leans over to inspect Eren’s face, turning his head this way and that to look at the zombie’s makeup from different angles. Satisfied after taking a good look, Reiner leans back with a grin on his face. “He made you look better than you did when you were alive.” 

“Fuck you,” Eren replies as Reiner cackles. Reiner’s not wrong though. 

“Okay, so we all know and we’re all agreeing to keep it a secret for Eren’s safety, right?” Armin asks, clasping his hands together. He looks at both Eren and Reiner, but his stern gaze lingers on the schoolteacher as he waits for an answer. “Right, Reiner?” 

Reiner stares back at Armin, his mouth set in a thin line. They stay like that for a minute or two before Reiner breaks his gaze, breathing out a large sigh. “Fine, fine, I’ll keep it a secret. I won’t even tell Bertholdt, who is the love of my life and who I have told all of my life’s secret until now.” 

“Great!” Armin chirps, shrugging the messenger bag off his shoulder and throwing the flap open. He sifts through the contents of his bag and pulls out a handful of books from his bag, all of which he passes to Reiner. “I want you to read these.” 

Reiner’s face is one of pure revulsion. “You’re asking way too much of me, Armin. I’m your friend, but I don’t love you guys that much.” He looks curiously down at the book stack he’s holding, squinting to read the cover. “Why do you want me to read about carpenter ants?” 

“Zombie research. Annie’s doing mammals. I’m covering diseases,” Armin explains easily. “I’ll buy you lunch after I walk Eren home.” 

Reiner visibly perks up at the mention of free lunch. Unlike Eren, Reiner is actually good at studying. He wasn’t as smart as Armin nor as studious as Annie, but he was always one of the top students in class. There were definitely subjects that he excelled in over others; Reiner always preferred classes like literature over history and math, not understanding why he’d have to memorize the names of men who died centuries ago or what application calculus formulas would have in the real world. He never did homework for subjects he didn’t care for but would somehow score top marks when the exams rolled around. He just needed a good motivation to work hard. Since report cards and college entrance exams are no longer an incentive, food works just as well. 

“Only if we go to the barbeque house,” Reiner says, adding, “and you have to let me order as much as I want.” 

Armin purses his lips, not wanting to give in but wanting the man’s valuable research skills. He breathes out, blowing his bangs out of his face. “Fine, fine! But have a conscience, will you? I don’t make much money even working for town hall,” Armin huffs. He closes the clasp of his canvas bag with a click and sighs. “Come on, Eren. Let’s get you home. Reiner, I’ll meet you back here in a little bit.” 

“Don’t take too long,” Reiner says in a sing-song voice, walking out after them. He leans against the doorframe, smiling even as Armin scowls at him. “I’m looking forward to our date, Arlert.” 

“He’s going to burn a hole in my wallet,” Armin mutters as they walk away from the elementary school. 

“Sorry.” Eren can’t help feeling guilty. They wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for him. “Still, I’m a little glad we ended up telling Reiner even if it was unintentional.” 

“Yeah,” Armin agrees. 

The two walk in silence together. 

“You know he’s going to tell Bertholdt though, right?” Armin asks. 

“Oh, absolutely.” 

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

There really isn’t very much to do at Jean’s apartment, Eren finds. After eating a very sad lunch of hamburger meat he found in the freezer, Eren tries hard to look through the books on vodou that Annie had assigned him. He can’t find any highlighters in Jean’s apartment, so he ends up improvising by using different colored eyeliner pens in one of Jean’s makeup kits to underline sections he thinks are important. Unfortunately, Eren was never good at deciding what information is important and soon has whole pages underlined and eyeliner all over his hands. The words he reads don’t stick in his head even after he’s read a chapter over and over again, somehow making less sense with each read through, and Eren gives up after he runs out of blue eyeliner. 

Jean finally comes home after the sun sets and finds Eren sprawled on his couch staring at the ceiling. He raises an eyebrow, setting a grocery bag on the kitchen countertop, and unbuttons his coat. “Have you just been doing this all day?” 

“You don’t have anything in your apartment,” Eren replies, not getting up. “You don’t even have a Switch.” 

“Sorry I’m not accommodating your every need,” Jean snorts as he hangs his coat on the coat rack. He unravels his scarf from his neck and hangs it on the rack as well. “I bought you some meat by the way -” 

At the word “meat,” Eren immediately sits up and dashes towards the kitchen, grasping for the grocery and pulling it open to reveal a succulent cut of tenderloin beef, blood still fresh. The zombie licks his lips, hands reaching to pull the tenderloin from the bag, only to be sprayed with water. 

“Ugh! Stop, stop!” the zombie yelps, hands raised to shield his face. When he opens his eyes, Jean is standing in front of him with a very disappointed look on his face. 

“Don’t eat food like you’re some kind of animal,” Jean tsks. He puts the squirt bottle down and gestures at his face. “Wipe the makeup off your face too. It’s starting to run. The makeup wipes are in the top left cabinet in the bathroom.” 

“It’s your fault it’s running in the first place,” Eren mumbles, but he shuffles off to the bathroom anyway. He tries to avoid looking at his reflection in the bathroom. He does happen to catch a glance and winces; it looks like his entire face is melting. It takes about fifteen makeup wipes to get it all off. His bare face isn’t much of an improvement from his melting makeup, Eren thinks, and he kind of wishes that Jean taught him how to apply his own makeup so he doesn’t have to go out there bare-faced. Reluctantly, he goes out to meet Jean, making sure to pull his hood over his head so that Jean doesn’t have to look at him too well. 

The table is set for two. One side has a bowl of instant ramen topped with strips of honeyed ham, green onion, and a fried egg. Another just has a plate of tenderloin, blood pooling at the bottom of it. Eren salivates just looking at it and walks over, hypnotized. He sits down at the table, dropping into his seat with a thud and reaches out with his hand when he’s suddenly sprayed in the face with water. 

“Ugh!” Eren spits wiping the water off his face with a hand. He scowls at Jean. “Would you stop doing that?” 

“As soon as you pick up your utensils and eat your food like a normal human being,” Jean says, gesturing towards the knife and fork he had thoughtfully set out for Eren. He doesn’t flinch when the zombie growls at him, instead giving him a pointed look. “It was part of our list of agreements.” 

Among the agreements they had agreed upon for Jean to help Eren was that Eren would sit down at the dining table and eat with proper eating utensils. Eren thought it was strange at the time, but he agreed to it. He stares down unhappily at the fork in front of him and picks it up, stabbing the cut of tenderloin. The zombie raises the bleeding piece of meat to his lips, ready to take a bite out of it but he’s sprayed once more with water. 

“Uck! What the fuck was that one for?” Eren splutters. He’s so surprised that he drops his fork and his meat along with it, the tenderloin sending blood splattering out of his plate and onto the table. 

Jean doesn’t look disgusted, only minorly inconvenienced. “Use your knife too,” he tells Eren. 

“Fine,” Eren grumbles, taking the knife in his right hand and picking up his fork again. He cuts through the tenderloin (which is a little bit more difficult to do given that the meat is uncooked) and raises the piece to his lips but stops once he realizes that Jean is still sitting in front of him. 

It’s one thing to have your friend know you’re a zombie and eat raw meat. It’s another thing entirely to eat a bleeding piece of beef right in front of him. It’s not even steak, which would be a lot less embarrassing. It’s just uncooked meat: pink and bloody and raw. Jean doesn’t seem to have any qualms about it. He’s just sitting across from Eren and eating his ramen like this is a normal meal. Eren thinks Jean should feel a little bit weird about this whole thing. 

“Um,” Eren says as Jean slurps up a mouthful of noodles. “Could you maybe look away while I’m eating?” 

Jean looks up from his ramen, raising an eyebrow. With his mouth still full, he replies, “I’m still eating.” Even though Eren sits there not touching his food, Jean continues eating. When he realizes that the zombie hasn’t eaten yet, Jean sighs and motions for Eren to just eat. “Come on. You’re going to make it weird. We can talk about how our days went while we eat if it’ll make you feel less uncomfortable.” 

“Er, okay,” Eren says, sucking on his bottom lip. He looks at Jean again, but his friend has already returned to his noodles. The zombie stares at the little cube of meat on his fork and wonders if it’s really alright. He brings it to his lips, nibbling on it. The taste of meat on his tongue is so rich and savory that he almost moans. With less hesitation, Eren puts the tenderloin in his mouth, his whole body relaxing as he chews into the tender meat. It’s not as good as the livestock he’d eat when he lived near the farm, but it beats frozen hamburger meat any day. As soon as he swallows it down, Eren begins cutting away for another piece before he remembers Jean’s still there. He looks at Jean, but the makeup artist is still eating his ramen as if this is normal. 

He’s a few more bites into the tenderloin when Jean says, “I heard that you guys told Reiner.” 

“Armin told you already?” Eren asks, swallowing his beef down hastily. Jean might be fine with eating across a zombie, but Eren doesn’t want his friend to see him with a mouth full of raw meat. This experience is probably traumatizing enough already. 

“Yeah. Reiner made a group chat this afternoon so we could talk about what to do next,” Jean says, to which Eren rolls his eyes. It’s a very unsurprisingly Reiner thing to do. 

“Right, a group chat,” Eren says, pushing a cube of meat across his plate so that it soaks up more blood. “That’s probably convenient.” He has no idea where his phone went. It wasn’t in his pocket when he woke up in the mountains. He assumed that it had either been taken by his murderer or it had fallen out of his pocket and was somewhere in the woods. It might be for the best though. It’d be hard to explain why his phone was still active a year after he had gone MIA. 

“Right, you don’t have a phone,” Jean mumbles. His mouth twists into a frown as he twirls his chopsticks in his bowl. He spoons another ramen into his mouth and hums. Leaning back, he wonders aloud, “Maybe we could get you one? It might take a while, but it’d be more convenient to have you in the group chat, too.” 

Eren perks up. It’s kind of embarrassing to feel so excited about being included in a group chat when he’s been friends with everyone for years, but he’s been out of touch with them for a year so maybe his feelings are justified. “I mean, you don’t have to, but it would be great.” 

“I’ll look into it then,” Jean says as he prepares another spoonful of ramen for himself. He’s always so methodical about eating ramen, making sure to have a little bit of everything in each spoon. “And Armin mentioned that we were starting research.” 

“Ah, yeah,” Eren says with a frown as he thinks about the stack of books he still has yet to get through. “Did he give you anything to read?” If he’s lucky, maybe Jean will agree to trade with him. Eren doesn’t think he’ll ever understand this vodou stuff. 

“Mmm, Armin handed me the newspaper articles about missing tourists and zombie sightings. I might have to get a corkboard or something to work out a timeline on these,” Jean says as he chews thoughtfully. 

Jean follows by filling Eren in on the rest of the group chat conversation — with a roll of his eyes, he explains that most of the messages are just Reiner complaining about how it’s killing him to keep such a big secret from Bertholdt, the love of his life — and future plans that Armin has about dealing with their … situation. (“It’s really just about research and looking into anyone suspicious that might have wanted to kill you, although Annie said that the description was too broad because ‘who didn’t want to kill Eren at some point in their lives?’” Jean said.) It’s not long before dinner is finished and Jean is collecting the dishes to wash them in the sink. 

“I can’t believe I just have to sit in your apartment all day while you guys do all the work,” Eren sighs. He’s never felt so useless in his life. 

“Yeah, it must be killing you to let us help you so much,” Jean snorts as he pulls on his rubber gloves and turns on the faucet. His voice is teasing, but his words remind Eren of something Reiner said earlier that day. 

“Do you think I keep stuff from people too much?” Eren asks. “Reiner said something about that earlier, something about how it led to the demise of my relationship with Historia.” He attempts to say it lightheartedly, rolling his eyes, but he does not like the way Jean freezes up upon hearing the question. 

“Hmm,” Jean hums, pretending to be occupied with the dishes. 

“You’re not answering the question,” Eren points out, straightening his back. He glares at the back of Jean’s head, staring daggers so that Jean knows that his nonanswer is not appreciated. “I know I tend to keep things to myself, but I just don’t like sharing every little detail of my life with people. It’s not like it caused problems or anything.” 

Jean sighs and turns off the faucet, letting the dishes soak in the sink. He turns around, leaning back against the counter with a frown on his face. “Eren, you’re just bad at asking for help. Everyone knows this,” Jean finally replies. “It’s not like it’s the worst flaw in the world to have, but it has made being friends with you incredibly stressful at times.” 

“That’s stupid! I’ve never been a burden to anyone!” Eren protests. “Name one time I caused you guys unnecessary stress.” 

Jean doesn’t wait around to answer. “Once, you were sick and locked yourself in your room with a fuckton of Emergen-C and water because you were convinced you could get better by yourself and we eventually had to break down your door and drag you to the hospital because you got pneumonia.” It’s insulting how quickly Jean pulled that example from memory. It’s even more insulting how Jean can prattle off more examples without hesitation. “You got lost on a trip with Historia for two hours because you were too stubborn to ask for directions or call anyone for help. Eren, you would have failed all of our high school classes if Armin hadn’t insisted on group study sessions and convinced you that they helped him more than they helped you.” 

The last one is news to him. “But he said he studied better in a group!” Eren splutters. Then again, it makes more sense now that Jean is pointing it out to him. Armin made way too many study notes for Eren and Eren only in those study sessions. He doesn’t know why he wasn’t more suspicious about them then. Eren sinks down in his chair, pulling the hood over his eyes. “Is it a crime to not want to be a bother to people?” he mumbles. 

Jean doesn’t respond for a moment and Eren thinks the makeup artist has ignored him until the zombie feels the slightest touch on the top of his head. He looks up and sees Jean patting his head gently. It’s comforting. Eren closes his eyes and allows Jean to keep petting him.

“You’re never a bother, Eren. You’re our friend,” Jean says with the warmest smile. He lets his head rest on Eren’s head for a moment before removing it, returning to his dishes. “I have to say, though, it’s pretty funny to have you rely on us so much because you have no other choice.” 

Eren opens his eyes and scowls at Jean. “Funny for you, maybe,” Eren mutters. 

Jean snickers. He tends to the dishes for a bit, shaking excess water out of a bowl before placing it on the drying rack, and says to Eren, “Why don’t you take a shower while I finish these up? It might help you relax.” He pauses and Eren thinks for a moment that Jean might point out that a shower might help because Eren’s a zombie and perpetually gross, but he thankfully doesn’t. “Just grab some clothes out of my drawer or something.” 

Eren wants to grumble and resist, but he does feel grimy and gross. A shower might not help him feel completely cleansed of his filth, but it might help. “Alright,” Eren mumbles, shuffling to Jean’s bedroom and pulling open the drawer of Jean’s pajamas. It’s filled with plain cotton shirts and sweatpants. Not one to be picky, Eren ends up picking a long-sleeved shirt in a dark olive green and some black sweats, feeling more comfortable in more muted colors. Jean doesn’t say anything when Eren emerges with his clothes, so the zombie continues to the bathroom, avoiding his reflection as usual while he strips down to his skin. 

Eren shivers when his foot touches the cold ceramic of the shower and hurriedly turns the faucet to the hot water. The shower sputters on before a rush of water spills out and Eren gasps at how hot it is, but he doesn’t step away nor does he attempt to adjust the temperature. He sighs as the steam surrounds him and the hot water burns across his skin, almost like it’s erasing all the dirt and grime that had covered him while he was buried for the past year. Jeez, Eren realizes. It’s been an entire year since he’s had a hot shower. 

He begins to reach for the soap so that he can scrub away at his skin, but hesitates. It’s the same soap that Jean uses. Is that weird? He hadn’t asked Jean beforehand if he had extra soap and shampoo. Using the same shampoo is a little less weird, but the thought of having the same scent as Jean makes Eren’s stomach flip. It’s a little too late to ask Jean now though, so Eren reaches for the soap. It smells a little bit like pine, but the scent isn’t usually as harsh as it usually is. Jean doesn’t smell that much like pine, Eren thinks, but he does have a kind of forest-y aroma to him. Maybe the fragrance isn’t that strong once he steps out of the shower. Eren imagines Jean using the same bar of soap, running it over his firm biceps as bubbles run down his tanned skin. 

No, that’s weird, Eren thinks, shaking his head like a dog. Water splatters across the shower curtain. Stop thinking about Jean like that. Don’t think about him showering. Just don’t think about him at all right now. But it’s nearly impossible when Eren’s washing his body with the same bar of soap Jean probably runs over his body in the same shower. Why did it have to have a scent anyway? Why couldn’t that stupid makeup artist just use scentless soap? 

Eren hurriedly rubs at the rest of his body, trying to make sure he gets most of the dirt in between his fingers and behind his neck and other hard to reach places. He’s in a hurry, so he probably hasn’t gotten all of it, but he’s confident he’s got most of it. He doesn’t want to take too long lest he have more strange ideas about Jean. 

The shampoo is a little less troublesome. Now that Eren has less hair, it doesn’t take as long to wash it all. He kind of wishes he had gotten a haircut back when he was alive. Getting a trim to maintain a shorter cut was annoying, but long hair always got greasy so quickly and washing it was a pain. Also, he doesn’t think he’d be able to hold his breath while washing his hair without passing out if he had long hair. Holding his breath is a necessary precaution while showering now, Eren thinks, if only to prevent any unnecessary thoughts about Jean. 

It’s a relief when he’s finally finished, stepping out of the shower and drying himself  before pulling on Jean’s clothes. Like the jeans and hoodie that Eren had borrowed earlier, the shirt and sweats are a bit shirt, but they feel nice and warm against his skin. And they smell like Jean, Eren can’t help but think. He wipes at the saliva at the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. Somehow, drooling always seems to accompany Jean, like some kind of weird Pavlovian response. Eren needs to find a way to stop doing that. 

When he opens the door, Jean is sitting hunched over on the couch pouring over an open newspaper spread out on the coffee table, reading glasses perched on his nose. 

“Hey, Jean, I’m done with the shower,” Eren calls. 

“Alright.” Jean stretches and then yawns without bothering to cover his mouth. He removes his reading glasses and rubs at his eyes before setting his spectacles down on the table. He gets up and is about to say something when his eyes settle on Eren, mouth agape. Slowly, the brunet raises a hand and points. “Eren, what the fuck happened to your neck?” 

“My … neck?” Eren looks down before he realizes that he can’t see his neck. He raises a hand to his throat. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“There are, like, marks or something,” Jean says, stumbling over to get a closer look. He reaches out and pulls down at the collar of Eren’s shirt, exposing more skin. “Jesus, what the fuck? Why didn’t you show me this earlier?” 

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Eren yelps, pulling away from Jean before his friend stretches out the collar. He rubs at his throat with a frown. “It’s not like I spend a lot of time looking at myself in the mirror. Not after …” 

“Right …” Jean’s voice trails off as his eyes drift downward. He clears his throat and grabs Eren by the wrist. “Here, let me just show you.” He walks Eren back into the bathroom and forces him in front of the mirror that’s still foggy from all the steam. Jean wipes at it with his hand so that Eren can see himself. 

Eren doesn’t look, not immediately. He chooses to look at his feet instead, preferring to look at his bony feet and ridged toenails than his face. He probably looks worse without all his makeup on. 

Jean doesn’t force him to look up. He just puts his hands gently on Eren’s shoulders. “Hey, Eren. It’s fine. You don’t look as bad as you think you do,” he tells Eren, rubbing against the zombie’s shoulders soothingly. “

“You’re just being nice,” Eren mutters. 

“I’m not,” Jean says firmly. “It’s really not that bad. You look fine. Kind of like how you did in college during finals week, actually. So not your best, but you don’t look like a monster.” 

Eren sighs frustratedly. “Fine,” he says and he lifts his eyes slowly, He doesn’t look bad, he thinks as his eyes look up from his waist to his chest. The shirt hangs off his body a little too much, as if he’s a skeleton rather than a person, but that makes sense. It’s only when he looks at his neck that Eren realizes what Jean is talking about and he’s too distracted by the sight of it to look up at his face. 

Purple bruises decorate his throat, prominent against his sickly pale skin. They’re all around his neck like a collar, but they also look like something: hands around his neck, the very same that choked him to death the night he died. 

Eren raises his hand to his neck once more, touching at the purple marks lightly. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “What the fuck?” 

“Must have been from when that guy killed you,” Jean murmurs. He reaches out to touch them too, encircling his own hands to mimic the place the killer had wrapped their hands around Eren’s neck. His fingers are cool against Eren’s skin, making the zombie shiver. 

“W-what?” Eren stutters, backing away from Jean and accidentally bumping his hip against the granite counter. He clutches at his throat, trying his best to remember how to breathe. “What are you doing?” 

“Comparing,” Jean replies, somehow completely unaffected. He holds out his hand, but he doesn’t curl his fingers around Eren’s throat. A part of Eren kind of wishes Jean would. “Whoever did it has big hands. Not too much bigger than mine, but their fingers are a lot larger.” 

“What, so we’re just going to ask potential suspects to come over and put their hands around my neck?” Eren mumbles, rubbing at his throat. He hadn’t noticed his neck before. He had always avoided looking at himself and his bundle of clothes had always covered his neck until now. Now that Jean has pointed out the marks on his neck, it feels strange, like a light pressure squeezing around his neck even though there’s nothing there. 

“Nope, but it might be helpful,” Jean says. He reaches around in his back pocket, fishing out his phone. The brunet points it at Eren. “Hold still, I’m taking a picture.” 

“What? Why?” Eren yelps. He covers his neck with his hands, embarrassed for some reason even though it’s just his throat. 

“Come on, all of us have seen you shirtless at least once. I’m just going to send this in the group chat,” Jean tells Eren, swatting the zombie’s hands away from his neck. Reluctantly, Eren lets his hands fall from his throat and Jean takes a few pictures to send to their friends. It only takes a few moments before they send their replies: 

Zombie Investigation Squad

Reiner: kinky lol 🥵😩💦

Annie: never send anything like this to me again

But it’s Armin who sends the most hopeful message: 

Armin: Thanks for your dead-ication! Looks like we’re making progress! 😃

[theeverlastingshade]

Spirit They’re Gone, Spirit They’ve Vanished- Animal Collective: 20th Anniversary

Years before Animal Collective became indie royalty, they were just four Brooklyn via Baltimore transplants that had begun making music with one another throughout high school. The band wasn’t defined as such until Avey Tare (David Portner), Panda Bear (Noah Lennox), Geologist (Brian Weitz) and Deakin (Josh Dibb) first joined forces together for their terrific noise/freak folk record, Ark, in 2003. But before AC was established as a creative force, the various members released a handful of records under the names of the different members playing on them. Avey Tare had written the bulk of what was initially intended to be his first solo LP, Spirit They’ve Gone, Spirit They’ve Vanished, in the first few years that he moved to Brooklyn, but he was so impressed after hearing Panda Bear drum that he recruited him to play drums on the album. Defined by a fusion of psychedelic pop, freak folk, ambient, noise, and experimental rock, STGSTV is a landmark of avant-garde pop that established the idiosyncratic patch that the duo (and later trio/quartet) would follow throughout the rest of their career.

Although all four members of AC didn’t begin releasing music with one another until a few years after Tare moved to Brooklyn, they’ve been playing music with each other for years beforehand. Noah and Josh met in grade school, and at some point in high school Josh introduced Noah to Dave and Brian, whom he had formed an indie rock band called Automine with. From there the four of them began swapping tapes, playing music, and expanding each other’s tastes. After high school Dave and Brian moved to Brooklyn (where Dave began work on STGSTV), and Noah and Josh moved to Boston, where Noah began work on what become his solo debut LP as Panda Bear. Panda Bear is an album comprised of Noah’s high school home recordings that include a variety of instruments including acoustic/electric guitar, a bass synth, a keyboard synth, piano, and cello (but no drums, curiously). It’s a solid first effort that established Noah’s compositional approach, but it doesn’t leave much of an impression, and is easily the most underwhelming record that he’s released as a solo act. Although they had been recording with one another for years, it wasn’t until Noah tracked drums on STGSTV that their collaborations began to manifest into music that would begin to define their artistic careers.

In contrast to Panda’s lo-fi, experimental electronic solo debut, STGSTV is a primarily analog avant-garde pop record with traces of psychedelia, freak folk, noise, ambient, and experimental rock seamlessly folded into its electro-acoustic sprawl. Avey wrote all of the songs, and played all of the instruments save for the drums, which included acoustic guitar, piano, bass synth, keyboard synth, tape loops, and his unmistakable signature shriek, which became one of the most distinctive elements of their sound. Future AC songs would be shaped by Panda’s voice as well, beginning most notably on the stellar second strictly Tare/Bear AC record, Sung Tongs, but on STGSTV it’s just Tare’s voice leading the proceedings. STGSTV is broken up into 10 songs, 2 of which are instrumentals, and the other 8 run the gamut from 3 and a half to 12 minutes, while defying easy classification at every turn.

The album begins with “Spirit They’ve Vanished” which consists of little more than shrill synth tones fluttering alongside Tare’s understated croon. It’s both tender and abrasive, and it perfectly sets the tone for everything to follow. The record balances the duo’s burgeoning avant-garde impulses against Tare’s first real forays into songwriting. There are moments of percussion-heavy propulsion, and moments of mesmerizing drone, but there aren’t any viable singles, or many songs that really even follow a verse-chorus-verse structure. Whether we’re talking about a song with that builds to a more conventional peak, like the lumbering march of the deliriously psychedelic “Penny Dreadfuls”, or something a little bit more amorphous, like the wandering noise interlude “Untitled”, the tracks that form STGSTV are bewitching and eclectic in equal measure, but they never compromise an ounce of Tare’s vision.

Although Tare and Bear would continue recording with one another (and Geologist and Deakin) throughout the next two decades, and would end up releasing many better records, there are still plenty of songs on STGSTV that rank as among the best to be released under the name AC. The record’s second song, “April and the Phantom”, brings Panda’s nimble tribal rhythms into the fold for the first time alongside Tare’s aforementioned shriek, which quickly became a staple of their sound. “Penny Dreadfuls” was written by Tare at 16, and it slowly builds into a euphoric eruption defined by twinkling keys, a barrage of cymbals, and some of Tare’s most expressive singing up to that point.

“Chocolate Girl” is broken down into two movements, the first of which alternates between Tare singing wildly over chiming synths and cymbal rolls and a soft acoustic guitar progression smothered in tape loops and synth texture as Tare begins to serenade the listener. The second movement is a jaunty acoustic guitar and kick/snare bounce with Tare’s restrained melodic delivery hovering above it all, and it’s one of the most infectious moments on the record. And on the bubbly, yet propulsive late-album highlight, “La Rapet”, Avey delivers a surprisingly anthemic vocal melody atop some of Panda’s most complex rhythms for the bulk of the song, before they transition into a waltz propelled by bright synths and Tare’s wistful delivery. The elements of AC’s sound were transparent from the start, but they were never again configured into shapes quite this unconventional while still conveying so much heart.

The sentiments expressed by Tare throughout STGSTV are entirely concerned with the death of childhood. Every song discusses some facet of growing up, and Avey sums up the record’s thematic through line best at the end of the opening track, “Spirit They’re Gone”, with “In spirit they’ve vanished/And I’ll show you why/They’ll make you take elder paths by this time/If we were just dolphins/In the sea and fly/It’s hard to kiss our/Child games goodbye”. The high-pitched frequencies, dense, lo-fi production, and engaging melodies heighten the potency of the nightmare fairy tale aesthetics, but it’s Tare’s poignant observations on the transition into adulthood that gives imbues the record with a sense of timelessness far beyond the instrumental ingenuity.

On “April and the Phantom” Tare sings about a girl named April who longs to escape into nature despite the opportunities that adulthood present “Everybody wants it/Ah, can't you see me waste it?” while on “Penny Dreadful” Tare depicts an encounter with a bully on the bus that’s cut brief when a friend intervenes “It’s a shame to hear the sound/When the penny hit the ground/And I want to go back home”. The song “Chocolate Girl” almost functions as a microcosm of the record’s themes as a whole, with Tare eventually learning to make peace with his parting from the titular character “Bell of the rain who brought the stings and dead/And who will pop the trade/’Cause I can’t see you/I’ll open up my brain again”. The lyrics are generally simple and heartfelt, but as the record progresses the sense of whimsy continues to recede, culminating in the grand epic, “Alvin Row”.

While the vast majority of the songs on STGSTV don’t stand out among their finest offerings, the astonishing 12 minute closer, “Alvin Row”, is still the most ambitious song that Avey has written to date. Throughout the course of nearly 13 minutes Avey and Panda unleash a tour de force of catharsis that begins with a harsh sheet of white noise to signify birth. From there a gentle piano melody begins to pick up steam as Avey depicts his childhood in a state of rapturous awe “Old clapper you can step inside/Accustomed to the rust your silver child”. Within a few minutes “Alvin Row” reaches the point of adolescence, with Tare repeatedly screaming “Run!” in the most devastating and expressive tone that he’s ever delivered over some remarkable cymbal rolls from Panda. After the storm subsidies, and the realities of adulthood begin to settle in, the instrumentation slowly begins to shift into a steady psych-pop shuffle and Avey adopts a contemplative but optimistic tone “I pulled the glass, it dripped too fast for second dawn/Since we passed through the maze as we unlock the stage of my other ride”. The guitars and drums continue to pick up steam until Panda begins to deliver a barrage of cymbal rolls while Tare closes the song out with a resigned acceptance in departing from childhood, vowing never to lose that spark “When I’ll say go, you say go, dear Alvin”.

STGSTV wasn’t a commercial breakthrough for the band despite lighting up the blogs (that wouldn't happen until the pair reconvened for their aforementioned 2004 freak folk classic, ST) but it was without question a creative breakthrough. There were obvious precedents for their music in the work of The Beatles, Pink Floyd, The Olivia Tremor Control, Pavement, and plenty of underground visionaries, but there’s never been a record released before or since that sounds anything like the remarkably cohesive blend of acoustics and electronics that Tare and Bear utilized on STGSTV. The four future members of AC spent the summer before its release engaged in the kind of improvised electro-acoustic jamming that would go on to become inform all of their future recordings, and all of it had a precedent here.

The band rarely returns to songs from STGSTV for their live shows, which is hardly surprising given the overwhelming emotional rawness of the sentiments expressed on it, but every once in a while AC will play various snippets of songs as a kind of tantalizing fan service. Despite the heights that they reached throughout the ensuing decade, STGSTV has continued to loom large on everything that the members of AC have done together, and as solo artists. It not only established the core/scope of their compositional approach and recording process as a band, but it showed what’s possible when two people with boundless creativity join forces under no pretense but that of discovering the boundless possibilities of sound.

Essentials: “Alvin Row”, “La Rapet”, “Chocolate Girl”

[traincat]

Can you share why you like the 2015 Fantastic Four movie?

Must a superhero movie be “good”? Is it not enough for a superhero movie to criticize the US military, large?

Okay, seriously, a little bit of background in three points: 1) I followed this movie from the beginning. Through the casting, through the reshoots, through the cryptic articles about how the movie would feature an unexpected romance that turned out to be right but not how we all thought -- I’m pretty sure a Ben/Sue cut of this movie exists somewhere, but it’s hard to argue that the only romantic subplot that exists in the finished film is... Ben/Reed, so. I got excited over stuff in the trailers that was cut from the finished movie entirely. I analyzed the hell out of previews. I almost stole a theater stand but it wouldn’t have fit in my friend’s trunk. I, no joke, bought the Fantastic Four peanut butter. And I had friends who were also excited for the movie, so we were having fun together. So the anticipation definitely has a part in my enjoyment of the movie. “Even though it came like that?” Oh, 100%. 2) I really like Ultimate Fantastic Four, a bad comic, so in a way I was primed to already be like “must a movie be “good?” Must it not simply give me the Mole Man?” (It did not give me the Mole Man.) Fant4stic is much more heavily influenced by Ultimate Fantastic Four than it is by 616 Fantastic Four, especially in its Reed and his relationships with Ben and with Franklin Storm and the think tank. Finally, 3) I really, really dislike the 2005/2007 movies. I think they’re flashy, sexist, shallow hot garbage pieces of filmmaking and I hold Chris Evans’ Johnny from all angles -- writing, styling, performance -- largely responsible for a wide fandom perception of Johnny Storm as a hotheaded playboy. I like Reed and Alicia but that’s basically it. 

And I can -- and have already -- gone over Fant4stic’s faults. It’s very clear that the movie largely falls apart after the time skip, but especially during the final battle, which is messy to the extreme. The extensive reshoots messed with the overall product to the point where you can pinpoint while watching what comes from which shoot, though that’s in part to the horrendous wig they put on Sue to cover up that Kate Mara had cut her hair for a different movie in-between. Josh Trank’s dogs did $100,000 worth of property damage, somehow, during filming. So I’m going to talk about what I like about Fant4stic, and here’s a really big thing: as superhero movies go, it’s different.

There’s something I hear a lot in discussions about Spider-Man films, when someone goes, “No, it wasn’t a good Spider-Man movie, but it was a good superhero movie.” Which is something I take issue with because how are we defining what makes a superhero movie good? And what people seem to think makes a superhero good is the MCU’s general formula -- not necessarily the content of their movies, but formula with which they’re devised, which does, it’s fair to say, make for a big office winner, too. And what the MCU does is it makes superhero action movies. It plays around a little with genre -- Captain America: The First Avenger is a war movie, but it’s an action war movie. Guardians of the Galaxy is a space action movie. Ant-Man is a heist action movie. It’s spun its Spider-Man movies as coming of age stories, but they’re action movies. This becomes a problem for a viewer (me, I’m the viewer) if you don’t really love action movies all that much.

In no way, shape, or form can anyone make the claim that Fant4stic is an action movie. Its one big superhero fight scene is a complete and utter failure and probably the worst scene -- probably because it was never meant to be in there. Fant4stic was meant to be a horror movie with a superhero angle, which isn’t all that surprising considering it was directed by Josh “Chronicle” Trank. And I’m really into using big superhero properties to explore other genres -- Logan’s dystopian western, TASM/2′s romance. Fant4stic’s horror. Some of the best parts of the movie are the ramping up to the accident. You know it’s coming. You know it’s going to go horribly wrong. You know Ben, in particular, played with a quiet but longing stoicness by Jamie Bell pre-transformation (and the only film Ben to be acknowledged on-screen as Jewish), is about to be, pardon the pun, doomed. And then there’s the utter horror of the aftermath: Johnny, apparently a burnt out shell, lying in the wreckage as Ben screams for Reed for to help him. Reed crawling through the smoldering chaos only to look back and see that his legs are still pinned under the wreckage. That’s good. A version of the film was apparently screened before the reshoots and the test audience found it “too dark” and I desperately want to see that cut.

In addition to Fant4stic’s horror angle, there’s the villain of the piece: the US military. Doom, despite showing back up last minute looking like lovechild of Annihilus and a melted toy soldier -- Annihilus was supposed to be an initial villain in the film, so the resemblance likely isn’t accidental -- isn’t the true villain of the piece. If anything, young ecoterrorist Victor who just wants to rule his own planet is kind of a charming concept. But the villain of the piece is the military, who wants to use the gate for their own purposes. The military imprisons Ben, Johnny, and Sue after their transformation and explicitly uses Ben as a killing machine. When Harvey Allen approaches Ben, he convinces him Reed’s abandoned him, and that he has to “play ball” with the government. Johnny’s youthful enthusiasm and longing to belong places him in similar danger -- Sue and Franklin explicitly talk about how, if they don’t do something, Johnny’s going to be used as a weapon. One of my favorite lines in the film is when Reed is brought back to the compound to see his reworked invention: “You made it ugly.” The film backs off on this at the very end -- it doesn’t stick the landing like TASM/2 does, where the ultimate villain that spawns the actual superpowered villains is consistently Oscorp’s abuses -- but it does better highlighting this than a vast swathe of other superhero films: the bad guy isn’t Doom. Doom isn’t the one who tortures Ben. Doom isn’t the one who remakes the gate with the express purpose of breeding super soldiers. It’s the military.

I also really like the characters within the film. I don’t think this is going to be hugely surprising to my followers, but really all you need to do to make me like a Fantastic Four adaptation is nail Johnny Storm, and Fant4stic nailed Johnny Storm. I think Michael B Jordan was really terrific casting, and I’m sad we didn’t get to see more of him in the roll, because he was great at portraying Johnny’s insecurities and his vulnerability, making his occasional moments of swagger charming instead of oily, like when he blows a kiss to a rival racer. Introducing Johnny with a drag race -- and with Standing in the Shadows of Love, which is a great Johnny song, and I love how music is a big thing for both Storm siblings -- established his ability with cars and his talent for building things, letting the audience know that Johnny is smart and capable, it’s just that he doesn’t feel like he is. I love this Sue, too, serious and blunt and a little awkward, incredibly smart and far more inclined to hold a grudge than her brother. I love how she’s styled -- her clothes are normal and her makeup is realistically minimal, not movie-minimal. There’s no scene where Fant4stic’s Sue has to strip off her clothes to use her powers, or where a sexy nurse exists so Johnny can hit on her and the audience can get their recommended fifteen minutes of female objectification.

Ben is, as he often is in Fantastic Four pieces, a standout, of course, and Jamie Bell gives a great performance, both anguished and full of rage and resentment and at the same time love for Reed, but it’s his design I love the best. The 2005/2007 Thing design is cartoonish -- the 2015 is monstrous. I love the first few Thing scenes where Ben seems to have trouble moving, dragging himself across the floor, because you get a sense of how incredibly heavy his new form is and how difficult it is to exist in it beyond just looking like a rock creature. The horror of the superhero transformation is built into Ben Grimm at his core, but here it doesn’t manifest in a lost fiance or children screaming on the street but in the difficulty with which he moves, the new grinding note of his voice, vocal chords landsliding together. It’s some really terrific work. And while I think Ioan Gruffudd’s Reed was actually a pretty perfect 616 Reed (more’s the shame about the rest of the films), the Reed of Fant4stic is Ultimate Reed in the beginning through and through. The precocious genius of his childhood, misunderstood by everyone but Ben until Franklin Storm sees him, the scene where he takes the kid’s model airplane and awkwardly apologizes afterwards (the “you’re a dick” line IS funny), his awkward attempts to connect with Sue, his attempts to connect with Victor. Like Sue, he’s straightforward and blunt. The way he isolates himself in his attempt to fix things. How gross his powers are in motion. The aforementioned “you made it ugly” line. I really do like him as a Reed. And Victor... Victor is hilarious. I’m sorry, but it’s true. I was on board back when they were like “he’s a blogger, he’s a gamer” like I was 100% down to see Doom’s tortured neon green on black LiveJournal screeds, and opening on Victor unwashed in the dark playing video games? Hilarious. Victor seeing glowing green energy and immediately going “I’m gonna f*ck it”? Superb. Is this a good Doom interpretation? Maybe not, but it was entertaining. I think they could’ve gone full Ultimate and put little metal hooves on him post-transformation, granted. It’s not the Doom I want for any upcoming Doom projects -- I want my science wizard monarch -- but I can’t say I don’t like the character that Fant4stic gave me.

Fant4stic is an imperfect film, but I’d rather have an imperfect film with characters and themes that I like and one that did something different than a perfect film made with the same old formula and the same jokes on the same beats.

Also, if anyone’s curious, since Fant4stic has no DVD commentary (a crying shame on so many levels), @johnnystormcast recorded our own in our Giant Size Annual and you can download it to watch along with our thoughts, which are very deep and not at all mostly about how Ben and Reed are in love in the film.

[cutsliceddiced]

New top story from Time: How COVID-19 Will Shape the Class of 2020 For the Rest of Their Lives

They call it commencement because it’s supposed to be a new beginning.

College graduation is one of life’s last clean transitions, a final passage from adolescence to adulthood that is predictable in ways other transitions rarely are. Relationships end with breakups or death, jobs often end with quitting or firing, but college is one of the only things in life that ends with a fresh start. Except when it doesn’t.

One morning in March, Clavey Robertson took a study break and climbed onto the roof of his dorm at the University of California, Berkeley. He had spent the past year working on his senior thesis on the erosion of the social-safety net since the Great Depression, and he needed to clear his head. In the distance, Robertson could see a tiny white speck: the Diamond Princess cruise ship, carrying crew members infected with COVID-19, lingering in the San Francisco Bay.

Photograph by Hannah Beier for TIME

Hannah Beier, a photography major in the Drexel University Class of 2020, has been virtually photographing her classmates in quarantine. She directed this series of portraits over FaceTime.

Two months later, Robertson’s transition to adulthood is in limbo. He skipped his online commencement and he’s living in his childhood bedroom, which had been converted to a guest room. His parents have lost their travel agency work, and his own job prospects have dried up. “No longer am I just a student writing about the Great Depression,” he says. “Now there’s a depression.”

College graduation is often marked by an adjustment period, as students leave the comforts of campus to find their way in the raw wilderness of the job market. But this year’s graduates are staggering into a world that is in some ways unrecognizable. More than 90,000 Americans have died; tens of millions are out of work; entire industries have crumbled. The virus and the economic shock waves it unleashed have hammered Americans of all ages. But graduating in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic will have enduring implications on the Class of 2020: for their memories, their earning power, and their view of what it means to have a functional society. For these young adults, the pandemic represents not just a national crisis but also a defining moment.

Hannah BeierJoshua McCaw, Drexel University Class of 2020, in his childhood bedroom in Brooklyn

Even before COVID-19, the Class of 2020 came of age at a time of fear and uncertainty. Born largely in 1997 and 1998—among the oldest of Gen Z—the Class of 2020 were in day care and pre-kindergarten on 9/11. Their childhoods have been punctuated by school -shootings and catastrophic climate change. Their freshman year at college began with President Donald Trump’s election; their senior year ended with a paralyzing global health crisis. “We stepped into the world as it was starting to fall apart,” says Simone Williams, who graduated from Florida A&M University in an online commencement May 9. “It’s caused my generation to have a vastly different perspective than the people just a few years ahead of us or behind us.”

Researchers have found that the major events voters experience in early adulthood—-roughly between the ages of 14 and 24—tend to define their political attitudes for the rest of their lives. And the Class of 2020’s generation was -already disaffected. Only 8% of -Americans -between 18 and 29 believe the government is working as it should be, and fewer than 1 in 5 consider themselves “very patriotic,” according to the 2020 Harvard Kennedy School Institute of Politics survey of young Americans. They are at once widely skeptical of U.S. institutions and insistent on more government solutions; they’re disappointed in the current system, but hold out hope for a better one.

Hannah BeierBrooke Yarsinsky, Drexel University Class of 2020, celebrating her birthday in her family’s kitchen in Marlton, N.J.

For the Class of 2020, COVID-19’s lasting impact may be determined by what happens next. If the rising cohort of young workers are left to fend for themselves, mass youth unemployment could lead to permanent disillusionment or widespread despair. A forceful, effective response that invests in the rising generation of American talent could restore their faith in the system.

It’s not clear to the Class of 2020 how the pandemic will play out. They just know it will change their lives. “Everything” is at stake, says Yale history major Adrian Rivera. “It’s this pivotal moment where we’ll never forget what’s done,” he says. “Or what isn’t done.”

School is often a refuge from the gusts of history. But the events that rupture the classroom routine, from President Kennedy’s assassination to 9/11, tend to be the ones that stick with students forever.

The coronavirus disrupted more class time, for more students, than almost any other event in U.S. history. It started with a scramble: The University of Washington announced on March 6 that it was cancelling in-person classes for its 57,000 students. Then Stanford University followed suit. Over the next few days, campuses from Harvard to the University of Michigan announced they’d be transitioning to online learning. Soon, hundreds of other colleges and universities followed.

Hannah BeierBen Scofield, Drexel University Class of 2020, on his bed in his new apartment in the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn

By Friday, March 13, an eerie silence fell on campuses across the nation. “Something about that day was really weird, because every time my friends and I would say ‘See you later’ or ‘Catch you after break,’ I just had this sinking feeling that I wasn’t going to see them,” says Vincent Valeriano, a member of Iowa State University’s Class of 2020. “Saying goodbye felt like it carried a lot more weight than it used to.” He ended up watching his online -graduation -ceremony at home, in his pajamas.

For underclassmen, the shortened semester was an irritating disruption. For seniors, it was a total upheaval. “There’s no way for there to be closure,” says Sam Nelson, who recently graduated with a journalism degree from the University of Missouri. “I know in real life, closure doesn’t exist, but this is one of the last moments for young people to say goodbye to young adulthood and move into the next phase of their lives.”

The Class of 2020 hugged their closest friends and mourned their lost semester, but scattered back home without so much as a goodbye to many people they’d lived with for years. Acquaintances who laughed in hallways or shared inside jokes in seminars simply disappeared. Fraternities and sororities canceled their formals and philanthropy events, attempting Zoom happy hours that didn’t come close to the real thing. For some couples, casual hookups quickly escalated into long-distance relationships. Others quietly packed up their feelings for college crushes and left without saying a word.

Hannah Beier for TIMESarah Pruitt, Drexel University Class of 2020, at home with her mom in Colchester, Conn.

The loss of a milestone like an in–person commencement had a special sting for some families. Arianny Pujols, the first natural-born U.S. citizen in her family and the first to graduate from college, still did her hair and makeup as if she were walking across the stage at Missouri State University. She and her family held a small ceremony in her grandfather’s backyard, and then she stood on the sidewalk in her cap and gown waving at cars with a sign that said “Honk, I did it!” Brenda Sanchez, 22, whose parents are immigrants from Mexico, says they will miss both her graduation from Humboldt State University in California and her sister’s college graduation the next day. “My parents didn’t go to school. They didn’t graduate,” says Sanchez, who is herself an immigrant and is protected from deportation by President Obama’s Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals policy. “Your heart breaks a little. You did work hard, you did earn this degree, but you’re not going to see yourself walk across that stage.”

Instead of graduating into their future lives, many Class of 2020 seniors feel like they’ve gone backward. “We were ready to be in the world as young adults—not good adults, maybe clumsy adults, but some kind of adult,” says Ilana Goldberg, who recently graduated from Tufts University in an online ceremony. “We’re not in the system anymore, but we’re not far enough out of it to have our footing in the world.”

Hannah BeierLauren, Parsons School of Design Class of 2017, and Dylan, Marist College Class of 2017, quarantining in Lauren’s family home in Woodstock, VT

Eric Kolarik, who was supposed to be sitting at his University of Michigan commencement ceremony in early May, is instead back home in Traverse City, Mich., raking leaves, helping his mom with the dishes, doing the same chores he did in high school. “I’m 22 but I’ve assumed the life of 15-year-old Eric again,” he says. “You feel like a failure to launch.”

If only they knew that a stolen senior spring is the least of their problems. The Class of 2020 is falling through a massive hole in the U.S. social-safety net, into a financial downturn that could define their lives for decades to come. Graduating seniors have lost on–campus jobs that got them through school. Many haven’t been working for long enough to qualify for full unemployment. If they’ve been listed as dependents on their parents’ taxes, they don’t get a stimulus check. They haven’t had time to build up significant savings.

Hannah Beier for TIMEDestiny, Drexel University Class of 2019, at home in Palmyra, PA

“I’m not sure they’ve fully processed what 25% unemployment, disproportionately affecting younger Americans, will actually mean,” says John Della Volpe, director of polling at Harvard’s Institute of Politics. He recalls that during the last recession, the Class of 2009 scrambled to scoop up opportunities, “like a game of- -musical chairs.” The Class of 2020, by contrast, is essentially frozen in place by a pandemic that has trapped much of the nation inside their homes. “There almost are no opportunities in any sector,” Della Volpe says. “It’s like suspended animation.”

More than 1 in 5 employers surveyed by the National Association of Colleges and Employers in April said they were rescinding their summer internship offers. The overall number of postings on the online jobs platform ZipRecruiter have fallen by nearly half since mid-February, while new postings for entry-level positions have plummeted more than 75%, according to ZipRecruiter labor economist Julia Pollak. A year ago, less experienced job seekers were enjoying brisk wage growth and rosy job prospects. Now, Pollak says, “it’s particularly hard for new graduates.

Sanchez, who worked two jobs and started her own eyelash-extension business to help pay for school, has applied for more than 70 jobs in recent weeks without success. Williams, who dreams of working in the entertainment industry, had no luck with at least 15 jobs and struck out with fellowships that are no longer taking applicants; now she’s cobbling together gig work. Robertson had planned to try to get a job in labor activism; these days, he’s considering graduate school instead.

Hannah BeierJillian Yagoda with her boyfriend Benjamin Halperin, both in the University of Maryland Class of 2020, in the apartment they share in College Park, Md.

It’s not just dream jobs that have disappeared. Historically, many young people take positions in the retail or restaurant industries as they find their path. According to Pew, of the roughly 19 million 16-to-24-year-olds in the labor force, more than 9 million were employed in the service sector. Suddenly, a significant chunk of those jobs have evaporated. In April alone, the leisure and hospitality industry lost 47% of its total workforce, with 7.7 million workers newly unemployed, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Which means the economic crisis has hit the youngest harder than any other age group. More than half of Americans under 30 say someone in their household has lost a job or taken a pay cut because of the corona-virus crisis, according to Pew, and the youngest workers are more likely than older generations to say that the pandemic has hurt their finances more than other people.

Graduating into a bad economy can affect everything from future earnings to long-term health and happiness. Researchers have found that beginning a career in the teeth of a recession can depress earnings for 10 years, and trigger broader impacts for decades. One study from UCLA and Northwestern found that the young people who came of age -during the early 1980s recession had higher mortality, and were more likely to get divorced, and less likely to have children. Till von Wachter, a UCLA labor economist who has spent years studying this issue, has a name for these young people who enter the labor force at the worst possible moment: “unlucky graduates.”

Hannah BeierSisters Camilla Nappa, Drexel University Class of 2020, and Sophia Nappa, NYU Class of 2022, isolating at their father’s home in St. Louis

Rather than brave a job market battered by COVID-19, some in the Class of 2020 are seeking refuge in graduate school. But that presents its own conundrum. As of 2019, nearly 7 in 10 college students graduated with student loans, with an average tab of nearly $30,000. Going to graduate school can mean –taking on even more debt. “I’m having to take out grad loans, but I can’t work to pay them off,” says Sean Lange, who plans to enroll in a master’s program in public policy after graduating from New York’s Stony Brook University in an online ceremony in May. He’s not even sure he’ll get his money’s worth for the $18,000 annual tuition. Especially if his classes end up being taught online.

All of this—the forgone memories, the abrupt goodbyes, the lost opportunities—will stay with the Class of 2020 forever. “The coronavirus pandemic is the biggest cultural event since World War II,” says Jean Twenge, a psychologist and author of iGen, who studies millennials and Gen Z. “It’s going to have a huge impact on -everyone, but young adults in particular.”

Hannah BeierMagda, Drexel University Class of 2022, with her family in Lynbrook, NY

Even before COVID-19, much of Gen Z was disappointed in the government response to the issues facing their generation. These are the students who joined the March for Our Lives gun-safety movement amid near weekly school shootings, and went on strike over inaction on climate change. They were too young to be swept up in Barack Obama’s 2008 campaign, but old enough to gravitate toward Bernie Sanders’ message of progressive revolution in the 2016 primary. Those who were old enough to vote overwhelmingly opposed President Trump in that year’s general election. They favor student debt reform and universal health care. They are the most -racially diverse generation in U.S. history.

Their skepticism of public institutions is largely fueled by a sense that the government is doing too little, not too much. A study last year by Pew Research Center found that 7 in 10 wanted the government to “do more to solve problems.” The divide is generational, not political: more than half of Gen Z Republicans say they want the government to do more. (Less than a third of older Republicans agree.)

Near mandatory use of social media has already contributed to sky-high levels of depression and anxiety among Gen Z, according to Twenge. She analyzed data from the National Survey on Drug Use and Health and found that the number of young adults reporting symptoms of major depression had increased 63% between 2009 and 2017, with a marked turning point around 2012, when smartphone use first became widespread. The pandemic has likely only made them more anxious and disillusioned. Pew found that Americans between 18 and 29 are more likely than older ones to feel depressed during the pandemic, and less hopeful about the future than the senior citizens who are far more vulnerable to the disease caused by the virus.

Hannah Beier for TIMEKathryn Murashige, Drexel University Class of 2020, in the sunroom of her childhood home in Kennett Square, Pa.

Which helps explain why young activists view this as a now-or-never moment for their cohort. They know that the pandemic will shape their futures, even if it’s not yet clear exactly how. “Either we will end up with a generation that is far more resilient than earlier generations,” says Varshini Prakash, a leader of the Gen Z–powered Sunrise Movement, “or it could be a generation that is far more nihilistic, and far less likely to engage in our politics because they’ve seen the institutions fail them at the times they really needed it.” The youngest cohort of Americans “could be traumatized for life,” says Robert Reich, a former U.S. Labor Secretary who is now a professor of public policy at University of California, Berkeley. “They could turn economically and socially inward. They could lose faith in all institutions, and they are trending in that direction anyway.”

In other countries, like Egypt, Tunisia and Spain, widespread unemployment among educated young people has led to social unrest or radicalization, mostly because of a sense of betrayal. They think, “we thought there was some kind of bargain, a social contract, that if we play by the rules we get a job at the end of all of this,” says Heath Prince, a research scientist at University of Texas at Austin. So far youth unemployment in the U.S. is mostly correlated with drug addiction and right-wing extremism, Prince says, and hasn’t tipped into the realm of mass uprisings. Then again, -unemployment hasn’t been this high in nearly 80 years.

“My generation isn’t feeling like they’re being spoken to or listened to, and at the same time, a lot of us are becoming economically disenfranchised,” says Robertson, the University of California, Berkeley, graduate who studied the New Deal. “I definitely think a lot of us have lost confidence in the government.”

The only way to address an unemployment rate reminiscent of the 1930s, according to some scholars, students and activists, is a federal government response that echoes the scale of 1930s reforms. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal included major initiatives to get young Americans back to work. Six days after he took office in 1933, Roosevelt proposed the Civilian Conservation Corps: within four months, the federal government had hired 300,000 young men to plant trees and maintain parks and trails. Three million young people were ultimately employed as part of the program. In 1935, Roosevelt created the National Youth Administration (NYA) as part of the Works Progress Administration, designed to give young Americans work-study and job training. (A young Lyndon B. Johnson got an early political break as an administrator of the NYA program in Texas.) The Americans employed by these New Deal programs grew into the selfless, patriotic army that fought World War II, now known as the “Greatest Generation.”

Some Democrats say the COVID-19 pandemic calls for a similar approach. Senator Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts has called for a “Coronavirus Containment Corps,” to expand the public-health workforce and employ an army of contact-tracers to help fight the spread of the virus. (Warren, an admirer of the New Deal, noted the CCC acronym is no coincidence.) Senator Chris Coons (D., Del.) joined with Senator Bill Cassidy (R., La.) to champion a national service bill that would expand Americorps and fund 750,000 jobs to help train new health care workers to fight COVID-19. And proponents of a Green New Deal, like Prakash and Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York, are working to shape the environmental policy of presumptive Democratic presidential nominee Joe Biden.

Given Republicans’ skepticism of big government programs, none of these ideas are likely to make it through Mitch McConnell’s Senate or onto President Trump’s desk. But the political landscape has already shifted the universe of the possible, with Republicans agreeing to recovery measures—such as sending $1,200 stimulus checks to eligible working Americans—that would have been unthinkable only months ago. And if Democrats reclaim the Senate and the White House, broader reform could be closer than it looks. Young people who are skeptical of government’s ability to solve big problems say their faith can be restored. “I have no faith in this Administration and this government,” explains Lange, the Stony Brook public-policy student. “But I believe in Big Government.”

Eric Kolarik spent his last semester at the University of Michigan working on a paper about the 1918 flu pandemic. Now, with classes canceled and his job search on ice, his copy of The Great Influenza is on his childhood bookshelf, alongside his old high school copies of The Crucible and Of Mice and Men. “There will be a sort of unity that the Class of 2020 has with each other, and it’s not fond memories,” he says. “People will say, ‘You’re the Class of 2020,’ and everyone will know what that meant.”

The pandemic has marked the end of one phase for this unlucky cohort. The recovery could mark the beginning of another.

Cover photograph in collaboration with Melissa Nesta

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

[gideonaceleigh]

Hello Friends it’s Flashback Sunday Monday!! Here’s is a short story I wrote in probably 2010? 2011? approx. 1900 words :) This is posted 100% for my amusement (and the amusement of others) and not meant to be taken seriously in any way lol.

Mirror

Petrichor stands in front of the door that blocked off her room, staring into the full length mirror attached to it. Lost in her head, thinking about the past couple of years. Her parent’s had to be right, she was just a silly kid, none of it was real. Memories go flying through her head, random flashes and pieces. 

Have you ever looked into a mirror and seen a flicker of motion from the corner of you eye? When I was younger I would always she that random flicker, it used to terrify me.

Petrichor, no more than five years old, stands in front of a mirror and looking into it for a moment before screaming in fright. She runs to her parents and they soothe her.

Most children have at one time or another. Scared, they run to their parents and tell them there's a monster in the mirror. The parents calm their child, telling them that it's impossible, just a trick of the light.

Or is it?

The flashbacks continue, showing her at 7, 11, 13, 15, and 16 years old standing in front of a mirror. A fuzzy form comes into focus in the mirror a little more at each flash; it stands behind her right shoulder. 

The sensation, of a flicker just outside of sight, followed me throughout my childhood. Except, instead of disappearing, as I grew older the flicker came more often, and it became more defined.

She goes to parents, begging. Her parents scold her, telling her to quit being dramatic as she storms to her room and falls onto her bed.

I told my parents about it, or at least tried to a few times. They told me to grow up and get my head out of the clouds, that I was too old for such games. Eventually I just kept it to myself. I grew tired of arguing with them and being told to stop behaving like a child. I even began to think I was truly crazy.

There are flashes of mirrors; one is fancy, gold with an intricate design. Another one plain with a wooden frame, moving onto a full length mirror and finally showing a small hand-held mirror held by the small hands of a child. Each mirror was showing the fuzzy form barely visible in the corner of her eye.

I began to think there was something wrong with me, with my brain. I tried to ignore the flicker, told myself over and over that it was just my imagination. Maybe my parents were right, maybe I just needed to grow up and get my head out of the clouds. I avoided mirrors whenever I could, so that I could pretend to be normal. But there are so many mirrors in the world, how do you avoid them all?

Petrichor walks along the street, she sees a reflection in the store windows and quickly hides her face behind her hair. It's not her reflection but something else, less discernible.

A couple weeks later she looks into a mirror and quickly looks away. She frowns slightly and tentatively looks back before staring intensely into it. There is no form, fuzzy or otherwise. She smiles and starts humming, leaving the bathroom and looking into mirrors all over the house. 

She snaps herself out of her memories and back into the present. Soft morning light streams in from her bedroom window and hits the mirror she’s been staring into. She’s still in her pajamas, it being a lazy weekend morning. Slowly the form starts materializing in the mirror, returning after its brief, and very much appreciated, reprieve. 

She lets out a heavy sigh, “Welcome back,” she silently greets Her. Yes, Her. For Petrichor was finally able to make out what exactly had been stalking her, her entire life. 

The girl has the same features as Petrichor. They have the same shaped eyes, ears, cheek bones, lips, nose, and body shape. Only Petrichor has pale blue eyes, bleach blonde hair, and naturally tan skin. The mirror twin has stormy, dark grey eyes, black hair, and her skin is pale. Petrichor looks into her mirror twin's eyes and, trembling, she cautiously reaches out to the mirror, slowly sinking into it.

Frost gathers onto Petrichor's hair and eyelashes as she steps fully into this alternate world. Its dark, the only thing visible is the snow swirling everywhere in random gusts and sputters. 

Not looking around Petrichor looks straight at the mirror twin and takes a deep breath before simply asking, “Why?”

Her mirror twins laughs vindictively, “Why not?” she says with a smirk.

Petrichor just looks at her in confusion, “Don't you get lonely?”

The mirror twin freezes, and Petrichor catches a sad look on her face, a look of loneliness. 

Petrichor smiles in triumph, “So that's why you’re doing this, isn't it? You want the company. But if you’re so lonely why don't you leave this desolate place?”

The mirror twin laughs scornfully, “You really don't get it do you?”

Petrichor frowns, “Get what?”

“I can't leave. I'm stuck in this wasteland forever!” she says, looking almost as if she’s on the verge of tears.

Petrichor takes an unthinking step forward, wanting to comfort her and her twin lunges towards her. Petrichor jerks back at the last minute, shaking from the scare of her almost fatal mistake.

Her mirror twin smirks at her, “Oh so very close. Just a second more and I could have escaped this place,” she says.

Petrichor’s head snaps up at that, eyes widening in understanding.

The twin nodded in confirmation, “Yes, that's all it would take. One touch and I could be free of this place, while you would be left to rot in this god forsaken place.”

“There must be a reason you’re in here. I don’t know why but I can take a wild guess. Whoever put you here wanted you to suffer. You’re alone in this cold, desolate reality, and you’re cruel, you make no secret of that.”

“Oh very good,” her twin said. “Aren’t you oh so clever? I’m sure you think I’m evil don’t you?” She didn’t wait for the reply before carrying on.

“I've never done anything evil! All I ever wanted is what I DESERVE to have, my BIRTHRIGHT.

She starts pacing and gesturing with her hands erratically.

“I was a Princess once you know,” looking at Petrichor who raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh yes, a Princess. Daddy ruled a huge empire, until those bastard rebels decided they didn't like the comfy life Daddy gave them,” she frowns, looking down at the ground for a few minutes before smiling and continuing with her story.

“Of course Daddy was always a weak man. To compassionate and soft-hearted. Never stern enough with anyone, not even the servants or animals. Not that there’s a difference between the two,” she smirks at Petrichor.

“The rebels had another thing coming when they got to me though,” she smiles mischievously at Petrichor, as if letting a friend in on a secret. “I bet you think I killed them, don't you?”

She walks closer to Petrichor then abruptly turns away, not waiting for a reply. “Quite the opposite really. I charmed them. If you know how to bat your eyelashes enough you can get pretty much anything you want in life, especially from men,” She laughs wickedly, smiling and demonstrating her eyelash batting to Petrichor. 

“I had them wrapped around my finger. I moved my way up, right to the top. The 'new king's’ wife. From there I was able to do whatever I wished. I dined with all the right families and, of course, had all my ill-wishers put to death,” she laughed sharply.

“Unfortunately, my poor husband passed away shortly after passing a law I had suggested to him. It stated that the wife of a Lord, or say a King, was capable of taking over her husband’s duties in the event of his absence, or god forbid, his death. It was quite a coincidence I assure you,” she winks at Petrichor.

“They never could determine the cause of death of my poor Harold. Eventually they just laid the blame on natural causes. Arsenic is virtually undetectable, did you know that?” Another mischievous laugh and grin in Petrichor’s direction.

“Unfortunately, once more and more people started dying of the same mysterious 'natural cause,' people started getting suspicious. Once people started realizing the people dying were people I was less than fond of, or people that were getting in my way, well they jumped to conclusions. Accusations started getting thrown around, revenge was demanded.”

She started getting overly dramatic, tumultuous emotions thick in her voice and her hand gestures getting even more sporadic and erratic.

“You know how it goes,” she waved her hands around vaguely, “So, of course, they demanded my immediate removal from power and stripped me of my fortune. I was furious. They wanted my head chopped off. I hissed and bit and fought the entire way to the guillotine. But right before they released the blade someone yelled 'Stop!' My salvation I thought.” 

She laughs bitterly, abruptly subdued, and whispers, “How wrong I was.”

She turns away from Petrichor and almost seems to cave in on herself. The entire time the mirror twin has been ranting Petrichor has been standing in the same spot in shocked silence. The mirror twin slowly turns back to Petrichor. 

“It was a man. He got on the stage and told them, he told them, 'Stop this! Please, listen to me! This is no punishment for a cold, heartless killer. This, this monster!' 

He was a very good speaker you see; he knew how to work his audience.

 'I have a better idea.' He whispered dramatically. He told them he knew of a place they could put me. A wasteland.  A place where I could live an eternity in solitude. If I was so determined to be alone by killing everyone around me why didn't they give me a better alternative? He had asked them. 

I had laughed, at the time. I would live forever, I thought, and not have to suffer those fools.

She laughs scornfully then looks around her prison, becoming subdued again and whispers, “That was over 4000 years ago.”

After a moment of silence she laughs loudly, “So you see, I'm really not evil. I just knew how to get what I deserved. What’s so wrong about that?!”

“After a moment of shocked silence Petrichor bursts out, “You're a monster! And as long as you're here, you won't be able to wreak your havoc. So as long as I have a say in it, you will never be free.”

As she says this she moves back towards the mirror, throwing herself at it. She crashes into it and it shatters into a million pieces. She watches passively as the glass slowly comes tinkling down, gracefully like the snow. It seems as if continually falling, never reaching the ground.

Her mirror twin screams as she fades into darkness, “You don't know what you've done! We'll both be trapped here forever!”

Petrichor looks at the shattered mirror before slowly turning to her mirror twin, “If that means you can never be free, then it is worth it,” she says as she slowly closes her eyes. She calmly relaxes into the cold and she feels herself falling into nothing, content.

[shikaarika]

What does your muse’s voice sound like? Is it light? High pitched? Scratchy? Deep? What are your muse’s thoughts on love? If they are not in a relationship, do they believe that they will ever find a perfect someone for them?

Hc Prompt from @psyrehn

Voice - आवाज़

You know I’ve put a bit of thought into how Jaya normally tends to speak and her speaking mannerisms but until now I hadn’t actually thought that much about how her voice actually sounds. So naturally, the first thing I did was I checked out my fc’s voice, Freida Pinto and I found this. Not gonna lie, aside from adding in those speaking mannerisms that Jaya has Freida’s voice is pretty perfect aside from Jaya’s being a touch higher, and not just cause her thoughts here actually align well with Jaya’s as well. That’s just a bonus :).

. If you’ve played the game you know that all Kyrati citizens have an accent some soft and some thick and some—, kinda mixed sounding? Jaya does as well if I had to compare it to anyone’s in-game I’d say it’s similar to Amita’s. It’s subtle but very there and definitely becomes more distinct with emotion and when she speaks specific words.

Now I’m not even sure if these next bits should be here or if they should be their own headcanon entirely but you asked about her voice how she sounds and even if this is more of a ‘speaking’ headcanon I’m gonna talk about it here cause you gave me a good excuse. Jaya’s speaking voice is never louder then what she feels she needs it to be. Occasionally, she’ll purposely speak maybe a little bit quieter then what a conversation or situation requires. You know why? So you have to l i s t e n to hear her. There is never ANY wasted energy in her voice or her words. In this way, one could say that Jaya’s speaking voice is very soft very calm because it’s rare to hear her raise her voice in a way that anyone would ever describe that that’s what she’s doing. That doesn’t mean she can’t and HAS shouted whole war rooms to complete silence on VERY RARE occasions. 

A little more on how it sounds just in trying to describe it in adjectives is— difficult but I’m going to try? Very silvery, bright, warm, clear defined speech tone. It’s an appealing voice to listen to both in conversation and when she sings, but that’s a whole other headcanon.

Love - प्रेम

It honestly depends on what kind of love we’re talking about here cause there are definitely different kinds and Jaya feels a little different about each one. I can’t say she’s ever put a ton of thought into what love actually is or what it means to her as an individual but I think she likes to believe she has a certain understanding of it. What it is. It’s various types. What it might look like in it’s various forms. For Jaya love is a language with different accents and while she’s very familiar with some of them she has very little experience with others. As for the concept of love itself— Jaya has mixed feelings about it cause while somewhat inexperienced with its forms she’s seen the miracles and destruction it can bring about depending on how it develops and how it’s treated. 

Was it not her own father’s love that nearly had her stripped of agency and choice when he embraced the priests’s decision on her as Tarun Matara all those years ago? Was it not love that motivated his acceptance if only to see she never came to harm no matter how unhappy she seemed? Was it not love that gave her the wonderous childhood she had and shaped her into the adult she is of today? Love to Jaya is layered and she believes it to be a gift from Kyra and that it can just as easily be the form a curse from Yalung takes.

That being said— as for romantic love, or the kind of love one would look to find in a spouse or life partner—. She’s really not looking to be honest. If we’re asking this question during the canon events of the game it’s not something she has time for or wants to think about. Sure, in her girlhood she may have thought about what the perfect someone would be or look like for her. How if she was ever to know love of that nature she’d want it to look something like her parent’s marriage. It’d been arranged when they were still young and had negated the choice in the matter but their marriage had developed into a happy one. One that as Jaya experienced was loving. It was a partnership. A devotion shared between two to be there through the good times and the bad, to accept the other for who they are and couldn’t change. And to support them in the things they could. For now, it’s not something that Jaya has thought about much as an adult. War tends to make people busy in such a way. But if one were to ask her outright about her prospects of finding someone ‘perfect’ one day—, well.

“I believe— there’s someone out there for everyone. Even if it takes a few lifetimes to find them.”

[imnotasuperhero]

tagged by @titanium108

Rule one: tag nine people you want to get to know better.

@mitchsentrash (bc why not, dude?) @c-k-mack @chloes-yellow-cup @moviesoccupymylife and litterally anyone who wants to tag themselves. I’m really bad at remembering users.

Rule two: bold the true statements

I am 5′7 or taller (I’m an oompa-loompa, so what?)

I wear glasses

I have at least one tattoo (4 actually, wanting so badly my fifth)

I have at least one piercing

I have blonde hair 

My abs are somewhat defined

I have or had braces

I love meeting new people

People tell me I’m funny

Helping people with their problems is a big priority to me

I enjoy physical challenges

I enjoy mental challenges

I’m playfully rude to people I know well (I kind of was? Turns out people hated it, so I just stopped)

I started to say something ironically, now I can’t stop saying it

There is something I would change about my personality

I can play an instrument

I can sing well 

I can do 30 push-ups without stopping 

I’m a fast runner

I can draw well

I have good memory (I think I’m in the “average” category if not a little lower?)

I’m good at doing math in my head

I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute

I have beaten at least two people in arm wrestling

I know how to cook at least three meals from scratch (i love cooking, so you guess)

I can throw a punch

I enjoy sports

I have learned a new song in the past week

I’ve gone running at least once a week

I work out at least once a week (Mon to Sat. Tho I don’t go on Saturdays, sometimes.)

I have drawn something in the last month (omg. I miss drawing so bad)

I enjoy writing (pls send me propmpts so I can get back in shape? I just finished a fic in just one sit, but it isn’t enough)

I have done martial arts

I have had my first kiss

I have had alcohol 

I have scored a winning goal in sports

I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting 

I have been to an overnight event

I have been in a taxi

I have been in a hospital/er in the past year

I have beaten a video game in one day

I have visited another country 

I have been to one of my favorite band’s concert

I have at least one person I consider my best friend

I live close to my school

My parents are still together

I have at least one sibling

I live in the US (Argentina, papá!)

There is snow right now where I live

I have hung out with friends in the past month

I have a smartphone

I have at least 15 CDs (I’ve born in the ‘90, so CDs was my childhood, even cassetes) 

I share a room with somebody 

I have a crush on a celebrity (on a few, tbh)

I have a crush on someone I know

I have been in at least three relationships

I have asked someone out or admitted feelings to them (hahahahahhahahahha never again)

I get crushes easily

I have had a crush for over a year

I have been in a relationship for more than a year

I have had feelings for a friend 

I have break danced

I know a person called Jamie

I have had a teacher with a last name hard to pronounce

I have dyed my hair (I hate to do it every month, tbh)

I am listening to a song on repeat right now

I have punched someone in the past week

I have known someone who has gone to jail 

I have broken a bone

I have eaten a waffle today

I know what to do with my life

I speak at least 2 languages (wanting to start a third one)

I made a new friend in the last year

[canvaswolfdoll]

CanvasWatches: Dragon Pilot: Hisone and Masotan

Not going to do a Summer 2018 write up because I only lasted through one anime, and Chio’s School Road had… issues I don’t feel like discussing.

Also, haven’t had time to continue the Digimon Rewatch (which is exclusive to the Patreon until I finish season one).

Doesn’t mean I’ve been slacking! Netflix’s most recent license camping for it’s tedious binge watch format is Dragon Pilot: Hisone and Masotan, which was a delight to watch! Go watch it, right now! Do it!

Anyways, time for my… whatever this thing is... on it.

Hisone is a woman who joined the airforce because, near as I can tell, she didn’t have any other ideas for what to put on her school’s career plan worksheet that shows up in every anime, and she saw a fighter plane soar by.

There’s… worse motivations, I guess?

Anyways, while working a desk job, she’s invited to an interview at a far away hangar.

She goes to the hangar and is promptly eaten by a dragon.

But it’s okay! The dragon just wanted to eat her old flip phone! And the crew got her thrown up pretty quick! And now they want her to pilot the dragon.

By getting swallowed and controlling the thing but prodding its soft innards.

Anime

So, Dragons are a thing that exist, and the world governments have been helping hiding them because… that’s the deal they made? Anyways, Japan hides their dragons as fighter planes, and has their air force manage them.

Because we need to explain this bizarre premise somehow.

Dragons are selective about who they will swallow and not digest, and Hisone is one of those lucky few. So she’s a D-Pilot now, which is probably a promotion from her ill-defined desk job.

Also, now she has to put up with Nao Kaizaki, initially the only member of Gifu Base’s D-Pi program, and a woman who couldn’t get the dragon to swallow her, so her position is more theoretical.

Kaizaki is introduced exhibiting the mannerisms of your typical High School Thug boy character, so you know she’ll be interesting.[1]

Hisone’s superior officer, Remi Kakiyasu, was also once a candidate for dragon piloting who couldn’t get the dragon to accept her. So the entire program is kind of low on practical experience.

Then there’s the woman selling yogurt who is clearly important, but it’ll take a few episodes for yogurt woman to reveal her purpose.

So Kaizaki and Kakiyasu train Hisone up as she comes to grips with her new responsibilities.

Hisone finds a plaque embedded in the dragon to learn his name is Masotan.

And so, the title is complete.

Then three more pilots fly in in episode 4, and the main plot starts to meander in a direction.

Let’s meet the other three team members!

Elle Hoshino: Enlisted to become the first female fighter pilot, and is displeased to have been placed on the OTF (Organic Transformed Flier) program instead. So her dragon, F-2/Norma, refuses to leave it’s plane form to please its partner. Eventually Elle comes around and loosens up. She’s fine.

Mayumi Hitomi: A matronly shaped pilot. She’s soft-hearted and soft spoken. Flies a large, goofy looking dragon named Futomomo. She’s fine.

Lilico Kinutsugai: Winner of the Canvas’s ‘Wait, I want more’  award, Lilico is a shut-in with a wry sense of humor and love of manga. Her dragon is the samurai-looking Akemi. Lilico is also apparently asexual, something I wish they’d given space to explore a little more.

She could’ve been my favorite pilot,[2] but the show didn’t commit enough.

So the pilots are placed through a couple adventures to become friends as the creepy Iboshi (some vaguely defined government guy) watches and plots.

Iboshi is the closest thing the series has to a villain, despite it being more of a Man vs. Nature affair. He possesses a callous disregard for the people of the D-Pi program, focused on the looming Ritual the D-Pi are needed for.

This cold-naturedness made me dislike him, but also allows the series to run relationship drama in a really interesting direction.

Because, guess what? If the D-Pi fall in love, the dragons will instinctively reject them. And they need the D-Pi to keep the Dragons healthy, and also escort a giant dragon to ensure it doesn’t destroy Japan in its wake! Oh dear. This frames the ‘will-they, won’t-they’ of Hisone and Haruto of the maintenance team into an major conflict with dramatic consequences and justifies a dumb ‘misunderstanding’ plot with one of the other D-Pi.

This shows builds a very grounded, mature, and compelling view on romance, and I am super game for it. And super down to sing its praises.

I’ve found that the sweet spot for making me care about a romance plot isn’t tsundere antics, or fear, or dumb misunderstandings, because there’s nothing I crave in my media more than emotional honesty.

No, the slow burn I crave is sheer ignorance. It takes several episodes for Hisone to understand she may have feelings for Haruto beyond friendship, then more for her to actually accept and admit her feelings to herself, then the fantasy takes over to prevent a tedious ‘Oh, will you two just talk’ subplot, because Hisone can no longer do her job lest she get digested by her dragon! So the conflict of “How does Hisone deal with her feelings” becomes augmented to “How does Hisone do her freaking job now!?”

The answer, seemingly, is just have a level head on the topic: Mayumi Hitomi also has plenty of ship teases with another character, but never is at risk of being eaten. It doesn’t get examined, because Hitomi’s ability to just kind of… casually acknowledge it and not let the Doki-Dokis mess up her stride doesn’t draw attention.

And because Hitomi’s resolution to the conflict eventually comes down to “I don’t want to abandon anyone ever” means her love for Haruto[4] is just added to the pile of things Hitomi is just anxiously passionate about, in equal measures to her love of flying Masoton, and that seems to work out.

Which, I guess means the secret to flying the dragon’s isn’t a creepy expectation of a pure heart, Iboshi, but emotional maturity.

Which brings us to the jerky, playboy wannabe breaking Elle’s heart. Like a monster.

Take note, writers: this is the first time ‘I broke your heart to protect/save you!’ has ever been successfully executed without one or both parties catching a case of the stupids! Watch this and learn!

So, early in the series, we meet Yutaka Zaito, a wannabe womanizer who has no success, but maintains his illusion of charisma nevertheless. Then he meets Elle, whose serious attitude and cold shoulder grabs his attention, and he suddenly abandons his swarm and tries to, gently, ingratiate himself to Elle, who gradually warms up to him.

It’s nice.

But then the whole ‘Dragon digests those with unsteady hearts’ plot point happens, and Elle is in a position where she can’t even fly her dragon, sending her ambitions even further away. And she hasn’t realized it’s Zaito causing her heart flutters.

But Zaito, upon learning the situation, does understand. And knows that it’s either him or Elle’s career.

So, he turns up the creep, approaches Elle, and proposes a friends-with-benefits arrangement, claiming not to want a serious relationship, and subtly mocks Elle’s dragon rejection. This breaks Elle’s heart, of course, but resolves the matter. She can fly Norma again, and Zaito is left to bite his tongue and let his crush pursue her best life.

The sequence is well executed. It’s a misunderstanding perpetuated intentionally, knowingly, and selflessly by one party, and exists for reasons beyond ‘Neh, let’s have some dumb romance drama now’. Zaito knows what he’s giving up, but still breaks Elle’s heart because she legitimately needs him to so she can pursue her dreams. There’s no other timely way.

On the other end, the show introduces Natsume,[5] a childhood friend of Haruto, who comes in to be Hisone’s rival!

Except Hisone is too oblivious and all-loving to care, and Haruto is straight disinterested in Natsume. And Natsume is a shallow Tsundere and lacks any appealing characterization. They could’ve given her role to Nao, who desperately needs something to do in the later half of the series, or, better yet, just have Haruto be the human sacrifice.

“But you need a girl for the sacrificial beauty role!”

Okay.

Make Haruto a girl.

“Are you proposing the show suddenly swerve into Yuri?”

I mean, Yogurt lady’s backstory is literally a Tragic WWII-era Yuri love story.[6]

Sada Hinomoto shows up selling yogurt and being charming and mysterious so you know there’s something deeper going on.

Turns out, she’s the last D-Pi from the last time they did the ritual, so she actually has proper experience to teach the new kids, and, oh yeah, she hates Iboshi, resents the entire procedure, and carries a lot of trauma from when her friend Yae was chosen to be the human sacrifice last time, and though the show doesn’t spell it out, the intimate blocking and their schemes to flee to Paris paints a super clear picture about what that relationship was about and, gosh dangit, is she one cool grandma.

All she wants to to get back to the giant dragon to find closure with what happened to Yae and force an alternate solution.

Fortunately, Hisone is just the sort of loveable goofball to find an alternate to the Giant Dragon’s bedtime snack!

So there’s another reason why Hisone’s love interest should’ve been a girl.[8]

Now, practically this could’ve been accomplished a couple of ways: gender flip Haruto, cut Haruto and use Nao, pr combine characters. Point is, no matter how you do it, this hypothetical female love interest is now the human sacrifice for Mitatsu-sama.

With this change, there is a new parallel drawn between Hisone and Hinomoto,[9] further underlines Hisone’s tendency toward heartfelt dedication to unconventional methods, and Hisone’s desire for saving the sacrifice changes from an impersonal “Human sacrifices are wrong”[10] to “Human sacrifices are wrong, and also screw you I love that girl!”

And if that girl had Tsundere tendencies (like Nao or Natsume), that’d make the pairing even cuter.

Also, points for the entire D-Pi team unambiguously disbelieving Hisone’s ambiguous fate at the end. It’s fun to see such trope-awareness.[11]

In conclusion: Dragon Pilot is super adorable and sincere, the premise is quintessential anime, and it’s just fun. Sure, most of the characters deserve more depth and exploration, but that’s always my complaint and it’s only a 12-episode series. Plus, it very good at portraying mature characters without stooping into immature means.

And it’s really cementing my love of BONES as a studio.[12] I need to put more effort into seeking out their work.

So go watch it.

Thanks for reading my review! These do tend towards inconsistent release, but they’re fun to do. Consider checking out my other reviews, essays, and the rarer original work. I’m also nearing the end of my Muffin Comics experiment, so catch those while you can! If you really like what I’m outputting, I’ve got a Patreon, set on a monthly schedule so you know what you’re committing to.[13]

Next time: a Netflix Original of a magical tone! (And hopefully more Digimon)

Kataal kataal

[1] At least, that’s the hope. Gets dashed once the other D-Pi arrive on base and Kaizaki slips out of the spotlight. [2] The title goes to Hisone herself.[3] [3] Anyone else have troubles saying the main character/romantic lead are their favorite? Like it’s too easy an answer or something? Because I do. [4] All these H names are raising the hackles of my Mug Rule… [5] Presumably so they can localize Harvest Moon games. [6] Which means we were this close to a Yuri anime not about assaulting high schoolers and creepy family dynamics,[7] but one about Dragons pretending to be a spitfire and historical context and and light-hearted comedy and I honestly would trade this show for that and I love Hisone & Maston! [7] Citrus did not sit well with Canvas. [8] Canvas’s full tilt idea, by the way, is to combine Haruto, Nao, and Natsume. Condense characters and keep them all relevant longer. [9] Way too many H names. [10] Not that Hisone being a goofy all-loving hero isn’t super endearing. [11] Though it’d be nice to know what Hisone and Masoton were doing. Had Hisone ejected out of the dragon at any point during the… months(?) long time jump? [12] Wolf’s Rain notwithstanding. [13] Not going to lie, nothing deflects me from lending support quicker than a ‘Per Update’ schedule.

[saviourfinn]

First thoughts/remarks about Black Panther

so i just saw Black Panther tonight and I loved it!!

Major Spoilers under the cut.

Critics were right when they said Black Panther isn’t your typical blockbuster action movie. It’s packed with phenomenal action scenes, yes. But it’s so much more than that. It’s also a spy movie, a movie about civil war and allegiances, a movie about the conflict between traditions and globalization, a movie about family feuds à la game of throne, and about what to do in the face of oppression. To be honest, it barely feels like a Marvel movie, which is so refreshing. I’m gonna go ahead and talk about several points, it’s gonna be disorganized because i’m tired but who cares.

Wakanda is. so. freaking. awesome. All of it is very afrofuturistic,which is awesome. I love the fact that they didn’t make the whole country into a technological marvel, you see the technologically advanced city, yes, but also the small villages, the shepherds in the countryside etc. Despite the city being super modern, there’s still red soil in the streets, and as an african it really felt like home (or what home could have been without the colonization). I loved how the Wakandan people dress, a mix between traditional clothes and modern clothes, the elder wearing more traditional clothes and the young people (esp Shuri) being more adventurous and afropunk in their aesthetic.

I loved Wakandan’s tradition to access the throne. The whole ceremony and trials were really impressive.

I loved how the tribes were all different, they all had different particularities, purposes and ways of life. Just like most african countries (and a lot of other countries), Wakandans aren’t made up of one singular group, and all these tribes can and have come in conflict, which is one of the main themes of the movie.

Brooooooooooooooooooooooo, the Wakandan tech????????????????????????? So fucking awesome. The members of the Tribe of the Door all wear a thick, colourful piece of fabric draped around their shoulders, and i thought it was just their Aesthetic until they raised it with an arm and it created a freaking electromagnetic shield!!!! There’s vibranium in their clothes and thanks to it they can summon a shield whenever they want I lost my freaking mind in the theater during this scene i’m not gonna lie.

The women in this movie were so awesome, especially Shuri, Okoye and Nakia. They are all complex characters with different values, purposes and motivations, and they all get a lot of screentime. They aren’t defined by their relationship to T’challa, but by their personal convictions. One of the main themes of the movie is allegiance, and to whom/what you are loyal to. Okoye is loyal to her country and the vow she took as a Dora Milaje to protect the throne, and watching her stick to her ideals despite being torn from the inside by her feelings is just heartbreaking. Nakia is loyal to her moral compass and her belief that those who can help others should help them, and everything she does is driven by this mindset.

Even though i always loved the fact that Nakia would be T’challa’s love interest, I was a little worried that the “love interest” part would swallow other parts of her character. It wasn’t the case at all. Sure, she has feelings for T’challa and deeply cares about him, but she would never sacrifice her ideals and moral values for his sake. Actually, at the end of his character development, T’challa is the one who ends up seeing the world like Nakia does.

I love the playful relationship between the characters. Most of the main characters know each other since childhood or their teenage years, and it shows. Okoye and Shuri teases T’challa all the time, and they all behave like a big family.

Shuri. Oh my god, Shuri. A lot of critics said that Michal B Jordan’s Killmonger was the stand out of the movie, but even if i loved his character, i don’t agree. Shuri is. She’s captivating, funny and resourceful, and every one of her scenes is a breath of fresh air. She’s a genius and at only 16, she’s the leader of Wakanda’s technological and medical department. She has her own huge lab in the middle of a vibranium mine, and literally all of the cool tech in the movie is made by her. She’s clearly passionate about what she does, and every time she talks about one of her inventions, her eyes light up and she’s so proud. She’s also a multitasker because during a fight scene, not only does she fight herself, but she has to give instructions to her brother and to another character so that they can win their own fights lmao. But despite being a genius and having a lot of responsibilities, she’s obviously still a kid. She’s always joking and teasing people, and like every teenager she isn’t a big fan of lengthy traditional events. She’s eager to get into action, as her young age prevents her from going on the field, and she wants to discover the world. She is very close to T’challa, their relationship is adorable, and she never misses a chance to make fun of him. Really, Shuri is so much fun.

Black women on screen!!!! So much of them!!! 3 of them being main characters!! It’s so rare for a Marvel movie to have more than 1 main female character, let alone pass the Bechdel test, let alone have black women in speaking roles. They were so badass and layered characters, truly thank you Ryan Coogler for my life.

Erik Killmonger. Such a great, complex villain. He reminds me a lot of the character Lorenzaccio : an anti-hero who, to be able to get his revenge, behaved like his enemy, just to lose himself and turn into the very monster/villain he hates. He raises excellent questions to T’challa and the Wakandan government : they always had the resources and ability to help other people, and yet they never did. When their neighbours got enslaved and colonized, they just hid, and not once during centuries did they try to help. What should one do in the face of their neighbours being in trouble? Should you isolate yourself, ignoring others’ suffering to ensure your people’s safety? Or should you help those in need? After all, who can say if some african countries couldn’t have resisted colonization if they had had access to Wakanda’s tech. Erik wants justice, but in the way of reclaiming it he became a bloodthirsty killer. And the narrative made it clear that he wasn’t born that way, he could’ve turned good. But after his father died, King T’chaka left him all alone to grow up in Oakland’s ghetto, and all the violence and suffering + his abandonment helped turn him into a resentful, angry man. And when he accuses Wakanda of abandoning other black people, he isn’t just talking about them. He’s also talking about himself, who got abandoned by his own family.

Another great thing about Erik : he also represents (at least for me) the diaspora. He’s half-american and half-Wakandan, and he lived in the US for his entire life, so Wakandan people consider him p much like a foreigner --despite the fact that he is also Wakandan.

T’challa’s journey during this movie was to realize that his father (and the government) weren’t as kind and selfless as he thought, and that he had to make a choice. As a king, he can either keep on maintaining his predecessors’ isolationist politic, or open his borders to try and help people in crisis. He realizes that he can’t stand by and watch innocents get murdered while the Wakandans are all nice and cozy in their country, not anymore. He saw how abandonment and violence shaped Killmonger, and he realizes that the only way to help people is to be compassionate. And in the actual political/social climate, where people close their borders to refugees and turn a blind eye to minorities being oppressed, it’s a really important decision.

Black Panther talks about a lot of real-life problems : what to do in time of crisis -- build walls or build bridges?, the brutal oppression of African Americans, the kidnapping and abuse of Nigerian women by terrorists (there’s a scene where Nakia and T’challa save women who were being abducted by those terrorists), etc.

Negative points (because nothing is perfect) :

They could have developed W’Kabi more so that we understand him and his motivations better. I understand that we couldn’t have 4 hours of movie lol, but the result is that his character is somewhat flat compared to others.

They speak with an african accent, and yet they pronounce the “T’” wrong lmao. Most actors are not native so i don’t hold it against them, but during the first few minutes it distracted me from the movie. They pronounce it T-ee-challa when "T’cha” is supposed to be pronounced like in the word “chat”. But again, it’s just a pet peeve because every day i hear europeans pronounce african names wrong.

Other remarks :

I’m so sorry for Erik/T’challa shippers... y’all are gonna have to cancel your ship, Coogler did you dirty à la George Lucas lmao

There’s a cool scene where Nakia is wearing a hijab and she’s beating up bad guys, it’s so rare to see a hijabi woman in an action scene it was awesome (she doesn’t wear the hijab all the time, just in that scene, but still).

I probably forgot/left out a lot of stuff, but that’s all for now!

shout out to my sister @wouriqueen who brought up a lot of relevant points!

[chasholidays]

Time stamp, Forever and/or down in flames universe, prompt: future

Original fic here!

“I think I have a career,” says Clarke, in the same way other people might say I think I have cancer. Well, not quite that bad; there’s more shock than upset in her tone, a kind of disbelief that something like this could happen to someone like her. Pregnancy might be a better analogy, something that could be good or bad but she’s too surprised to know yet.

Regardless, he mostly finds it hilarious. “Did you not know? I thought you knew or I would have told you.”

He does get why Clarke is surprised about her career in general, he’s just not sure why it hit her now. A few months after they got married, she started a webcomic, something that’s half slice of life and half weird doodles of mythical creatures doing errands, and somehow it really took off. Raven deserves a lot of the credit for the initial jump in popularity, since Clarke is incapable of figuring out online self promotion, but once she got enough instagram followers, she stopped really needing to do much. She’s made some merchandise and takes commissions, and has enough that she can pay Raven to help with her with her homepage and other stuff.

It’s not a great career, not making her rich, but it’s enough that she’s gotten rid of most of her part-time jobs and is making a living as something like a professional artist.

It is definitely very weird and confusing; he just assumed that she would have noticed that sooner.

“I keep waiting for someone to notice I’m not actually funny,” Clarke admits.

“You’re kind of funny,” he says, and she laughs.

“Thanks, babe. Your support always means the world to me.”

He raises his arm and she tucks herself under it, snuggling in. “I think you’re funny,” he says. “But a lot of the comic is kind of–absurd,” he finally says. “It’s not about making jokes, it’s about being fucking weird. As it turns out, people think our lives are just kind of inherently funny. Which they are. You’re not coasting on unearned success here, Clarke. You work hard on your art, I know you do.”

“I know. This just wasn’t really what I pictured myself doing, I guess. I thought making it as an artist was going to be–”

“Your art hanging in a museum.”

“Something I could show my mom to prove I made the right choice.”

“And you can’t show her the webcomic?”

“I could tell her about the book.”

Bellamy freezes. “The book?”

“That’s how I know I have a career, yeah. Raven just told me. A publisher is interested in putting together a print version of the webcomic, with some exclusive content, a certain percentage of new strips, stuff like that. The email has all the details.”

“So you already agreed?”

“I wanted to surprise you. Do you not think I should do it?”

He laughs and tugs her closer. “No, of course I think that. Honestly, I’m just amazed you kept it quiet.”

She rolls her eyes. “I can keep secrets. And it wasn’t hard, I got most of the emails while you were at work. It did kind of suck to not tell you, but I got advice from Raven. And I figured it would be, you know. Cool.”

“It is cool. I’m really proud of you. Do I need to do anything? What’s your deadline? When does it get published?”

Clarke laughs, soft, and kisses his shoulder. “We’ve still got a while to go. I’m probably going to be a mess for a while while I try to get everything done.”

“You?” he teases. “A mess? What a concept.”

“Shut up. A new kind of mess. A mess with purpose. I’m turning over a new mess leaf.”

“Wow. That’s going to be something. Can’t wait to see what new horrors that will bring.”

She elbows him. “It’s going to be awesome.”

“It is.” He kisses her hair. “My wife, the published author.”

“Don’t jinx it. I still have to write the book in time.”

“You’re going to,” he says. “I’m not worried.”

“That makes one of us.”

“New leaf, remember? It’s going to be fun.”

She shakes her head, smiling a little. “Sure. Fun.”

*

There’s no particular reason that Clarke’s book should cause any kind of seismic shift in Bellamy’s life, but that’s not really the cause of the shift, he doesn’t think. It’s hard to not occasionally take a step back and think about where he is and where he’s going, and given what his actual life looks like, it’s pretty easy to feel like a lowkey failure.

Really, the odder thing is that every time he does this, he finds his life is actually in amazingly good shape. He and Clarke might not be great adults, but they’ve cleared more hurdles of adulthood than a lot of his friends have, without even trying. They’re married, they’re homeowners, they have a dog. Bellamy has a steady job in his field, and Clarke has a good gig of her own. They have a savings account that they actually put money into every month. They’re not getting rich, but they’re stable, even upwardly mobile. Against all logic and reason, he thinks he and Clarke are doing well.

Which is honestly what freaks him out the most, and what he doesn’t quite know how to explain to anyone.

“It’s like when you beat a video game and you’re running around doing all the bonus content because you’re not ready to be done yet, but you know you kind of did everything?” is the approach he tries with Miller, who does not look impressed.

“So what you’re saying is you already beat life and now you want the DLC? Yeah, I can see why you don’t want to tell people that.”

“Seriously, you know what I mean, right? I don’t know where we go from here. It’s not bad, just–weird.”

“I feel like the next logical step is kids, but I’ve met you and Clarke and I’m not convinced reproduction is a good idea.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure either. I like kids, but I don’t know if we actually need to have any of our own. I’m amazed we keep the dog alive.”

Miller snorts. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’re all shocked about that one.”

“It’s not like I’m complaining. My life is awesome and I’m happy. But it’s weird feeling like I don’t have anything to work for.”

“Promotions,” Miller says. “Another dog, I don’t know. I get it,” he adds. “I’m not there yet, but it makes sense. But dude, it’s like you’ve never even seen Tangled. Find a new dream.”

He pauses. “How many times have you seen Tangled?”

“That movie is fucking solid,” says Miller. “Good luck with your stupidly perfect life.”

“Thanks. I’m doing my best with it.”

*

Clarke working on a book honestly isn’t really functionally different from Clarke working on anything else, at least not from what Bellamy can tell. Her hours are as bizarre as ever, and she still has ink-stained fingers and a penchant for falling asleep on anything.

But there is a change in her too, even if it’s harder to detect. She takes the book seriously in a way that she’s never taken anything else seriously, for all she’s always been dedicated to her art. The book means something to her that he hasn’t figured out yet, that he’s not sure how to figure out.

At least, not until his conversation with Miller, after which he asks, “So, is this book like your final boss?”

She’s reviewing some of her old comics to see which she wants to put in, almost completely engrossed. “What?”

“The book. Is it the culmination of your life or something?”

She snorts. “I hope not.”

“It’s something, though. Not that it shouldn’t be, but–”

Finally, she stands, her entire body cracking as she stretches. She’s been sitting on the floor so much he’s starting to worry about the long-term effects on her body. If they didn’t have the dog to force them to go on walks, he’s not sure how much fresh air she’d even get.

“This is a lot, even for you,” he says, and she flops onto the couch next to him.

“Yeah, I know. I think it’s probably residual–it’s an assignment, and I was a straight-A student. I want to do my best on it. And do extra credit.”

It makes sense, but it doesn’t feel quite sufficient. “Have you told your mom about it yet?”

Her discomfort is immediate and obvious as she shifts a little, frowning. Clarke and her mother are on better terms than they were when she and Bellamy first met, but it’s still hard. He remembers from his own childhood how long it can take to recover from a loss like that, how the fallout can sometimes feel even worse than the event, or at least different and awful in its own way. Clarke and her mother don’t want to be enemies, but Clarke likes her life, and he has to admit it doesn’t look great from the outside.

Even from the inside, it can sometimes be pretty grim.

“Not yet. I thought I’d just send it to her when I got author copies or whatever.”

“That won’t be for a while yet.”

“It’s not like we talk that much,” she points out. “I kept it a secret from you and we live together and talk all the time. It’s not going to be hard to not tell my mom. She asks what I’m working on and I say the usual. Which isn’t even a lie,” she adds, before he can try to protest. “Because this is definitely what I always do.”

“It is. I wasn’t going to say that. I just feel like I don’t get how you feel about this book.”

“And you want to understand every feeling I have?”

“No, fuck that. I just don’t like not knowing shit. And this one’s bugging me.”

“It’s not the only thing.” She nudges him with her elbow. “I’ve definitely noticed you acting weird too.”

“Yeah?”

“Not even going to deny it?”

“No. I’m having a weird crisis.”

“Define weird crisis. Do you want to buy a sports car?”

“Not really. But is it weird if I feel like we should be buying something? Or maybe just me, I don’t know.”

“I don’t have enough information to tell you how weird that is. What do you want to buy? Why do you want to buy it? Is this just capitalism?”

“No.” He rubs his face. “Fuck, I don’t know what I want. If I did, I would have bought it already.”

“Oh, wow, this is actually bugging you. I thought you were just being normal grumpy, but this is something different, huh?”

“Yeah. I don’t think it’s the same as your thing, though. My thing might be the next step, after you finish your book.”

“So this is a grim vision of the future, huh?”

“Learn from me.”

“You need to tell me what I’m learning first.”

“Our lives are awesome and I’m happy, but when I think about–what we’re aiming for in five years, ten years, fuck, thirty years, I have no idea what we’ll be wanting.”

“And that’s bad,” she says, slow.

“It’s weird for me,” he admits. “I think it’s just taken me a while to notice that all of the stuff I used to be working for–I’ve got it now. Good job, steady income, retirement fund. Awesome wife, nice condo, stupid dog. I’m so fucking happy, but it feels like I have everything I want.”

“You definitely don’t,” says Clarke, immediately.

He snorts. “Wow, just like that, huh?”

“I mean, I know what you mean, but what we’ve got is–the big stuff, I guess. The flashy stuff. My dad used to call it the money can’t buy happiness stuff.”

“Your dad had a name for this?”

“I mean, not this. But the general idea. He said that when people said money can’t buy happiness, they’re taking for granted all the stuff they wouldn’t have if they didn’t have money. Food and shelter and all that. So I’m going to say you are officially at the point where you have all the happiness money can buy.”

“You say that, but I don’t own a private jet.”

She rolls her eyes, as he deserves. “You don’t want a private jet.”

“No, I don’t,” he grants. “So, you’re saying that life is awesome and it’s time for me to find a new place to get validation?”

“Or just find a new hobby. Maybe you could write a book. I don’t know, you can figure it out. But I’m pretty sure in the next thirty years, we’re going to find awesome stuff to do.”

“And you’re going to prove to your mom that your life is good?”

She sighs. “I get that my life doesn’t seem great to her, but her life doesn’t seem great to me either. It would be cool if this book was, like–the intersection of what I think is good and what she does. We can all agree that a book is an accomplishment.”

“It is.” He kisses her hair. “Your mom’s going to be proud of you, no matter what. I’m pretty sure she already is.”

“And you’re going to come up with something new to want to do.” She frowns. “It’s not kids, right? This wasn’t some weird, roundabout way of telling me you think we should have a baby or something, right?”

“Honestly, I’m pretty sure we should never reproduce, yeah. Unless you want that.”

She nudges her nose under his jaw. “I think we could just get a bigger place and more pets. If we’re looking for things to aspire to.”

As aspirations go, they feel pretty small, but like Clarke said, they really have all the big stuff. They’re healthy and happy and more well off than they deserve to be. They can’t afford a house now, but in a few years, if he gets promotions and Clarke’s book does well, it’s probably within the realm of possibility.

“So, I have to find a new dream, huh?” he asks.

“And I have to write an awesome book. As problems go, they’re pretty awesome ones.”

He kisses her hair, smiling. “Yeah, you’re right. I bet we can work through it.”

After all, they are, somehow, good. They’ve got this.

[filmista]

Gone Girl (2014)

“When two people love each other and they can't make that work, that's the real tragedy.”

The first time I watched ‘Gone Girl’ was before I had read Gillian Flynn’s novel of the same name. The film gripped me so much the first time, that one of the first things I did after was read, or better said devoured Flynn’s novel in about a day.

Flynn’s novel is not only an interesting look at a female psychopath (people have compared Amy Dunne to Patrick Bateman; though I think Bateman is more perverse) as scary as it sounds at least with Amy Dunne, we see things in her character that don’t justify or excuse what she does but that can make you understand her.

There is, however, a scary similarity between the two: both are seen as “perfect Americans" in a way, women find Patrick Bate hot and men admire him at his job because he’s the man that’s got everything at first sight and nothing seems to ever affect him; it shows that scary notion that being emotionless is the male ideal.

And Amy’s literally a children’s idol, she signs autographs for children and becomes an American heroine, “America’s sweetheart” she’s hailed on the news even after she has committed cold-blooded murder and vicious, sickening acts. 

So what does that mean? Is too much perfection craziness? Or does striving for perfection drive us crazy? Or is it the pretense the trying to project a perfect image towards the world?

Both are characters that seemingly are perfect and they seem to at first glance have all the ingredients for happiness, but once you look underneath, well the only thing that really prevails is a killer boredom and an emptiness, both feel like they aren’t present, like they’re not there, or in Amy’s words: “I feel like I could disappear”.

The first time I read Flynn’s novel I was enthralled, Amy Dunne is one of the most interesting and complex female characters I’ve ever seen in anything, but I was also very pleased that Fincher had done Flynn’s work so much justice.

He actually worked with Flynn and allowed her to contribute to making her own book into a screenplay, and as a result of the essence of the book really transfers onto the screen.

However, Fincher’s adaptation of the book is interesting because of many reasons, not just because it is one of the best literary adaptations I’ve seen but also because it’s well made. It’s beautiful on a simple aesthetic level but it’s deep too, it’s the kind of film that’s gonna make you think after and that you can bet will stay with you for a few days after.

And most importantly it’s got respect for the audience there’s no hand-holding, it’s assumed you’re smart enough to follow what’s happening, and so no unnecessary flashbacks to remind you of what happened earlier, you’re supposed to still remember. 

This does make ‘Gone Girl’ into a film that you have to pay attention to, it’s not the kind of film you can continue to watch while you’re doing say your dishes.

Before delving into further detail though, I’ll leave the storyline here:

On the occasion of his fifth wedding anniversary, Nick Dunne reports that his wife, Amy, has gone missing. Under pressure from the police and a growing media frenzy, Nick's portrait of a blissful union begins to crumble. Soon his lies, deceits and strange behavior have everyone asking the same dark question: Did Nick Dunne kill his wife?

The most interesting thing about the film though, is the titular Gone Girl, Amy Dunne. Amy Dunne is an incredibly complex and compelling female character, she’s unique, because she gets to do what a lot of women in films often can’t do without being held accountable or locked up in an institution: she gets to go utterly insane and she triumphs in the end, she’s a villainess of the first degree.

She’s impossible to run away from and to outsmart, she’s at the top and there she stays, she’s not superhuman either, because she has weaknesses and she can be vulnerable, as a few moments in the film illustrate, but when she’s not vulnerable, she can't be stopped by no man or woman.

There’s no doubt that Amy Dunne, is a monster, but she’s ultimately more interesting than Patrick Bateman and I said I think less perverse, yes she has a method to her insanity and it’s safe to assume she’s conscious and aware of her action and knows exactly what she is doing.

But unlike Bateman, external events shaped Amy; she was made into a monster by the world around her and those that were supposed to care about her, it doesn’t justify that she killed a man and that she staged her own disappearance.

But it can make you understand it to some degree, and to some degree, you sympathize with her at certain points, because underneath the layer of insanity, there’s still human emotion and vulnerability left, maybe she would never have snapped had she not been pushed.

I’ve now watched ‘Gone Girl’s more than once with different people, and I always notice something very interesting: people usually divide both the main characters Nick Dunne and Amy Dunne in two categories: he’s a good guy (that’s done nothing wrong) and Amy’s a psycho bitch.

When I watched the film though, I obviously did recognise that Amy is not normal and that she clearly has mental problems, but to a certain degree I could understand (not justify) why she did what she did, I can see the reasoning behind her actions, why she decided to do what she did.

Amy Dunne’s a brilliant woman, with an obvious eager mind, as illustrated by the various degrees of hers on the walls of her bedroom, but she became a housewife, not that, that is what drove her insane, because a woman like her would have something to do, had it been studying or whatever.

But she was not used to being ignored, she’s never been used to feeling like she doesn’t matter. Amy was the only child of her parents, she had always been made felt like she was unique and a miracle, something worthy of admiration, something that had to excel and preferably honor them.

Amy’s parents turned her childhood and adult life into a series of books, the heroine of which is Amazing Amy, Amy is essentially a literal Amy, but this Amy never disappoints and is always perfect. And more importantly, she is adored by millions of kids in America.

You wouldn’t think that this would be the kind of thing that would mess someone up, but I think that in the case of Amy it does, I think her parents created a split personality in her; in many ways Amy is trying to adapt the Amy amazing persona, she tries to be Amazing Amy, as she says at one point: “Amazing Amy has always been one step ahead of me”. And she feels that it’s her duty to walk into Amazing Amy’s shoes.

Because what she wants really is nothing more than to be loved, or receive what she thinks to constitute as love, her parents seem to adore her but they come across as very fake and cold people.

How much do they care about their daughter? (perhaps this makes fun of those people in America that force their kids to participate in atrocious television such as ‘Honey Booboo’, I honestly think that should be considered child abuse).

Perhaps they care more for the literate version than they do their own daughter, which would be a messed up thing, but then again what parents turn their own daughter into a product?

At one point Amy’s father at an event for one of her books (in which Amazing Amy gets married while real-life Amy has not yet taken that step, her mom even wants her to wear a wedding dress, just how crazy is that woman?!) forces her to go socialise and mingle, what if Amy doesn’t want to? What if she doesn’t want the spotlight?

That doesn’t matter to her parents; all they seem to care about is Amy the product, and perhaps she strives so much to become Amazing Amy because all she really wants is love from her parents like any child should receive.

And then she meets the perfect man, her dream guy. Finally, a man that seems to admire and care about her seemingly just for the person she is. Though there’s a catch, perhaps Amy’s childhood messed her up so much, that her entire definition of love became messed up.

She literally says “ I forged the man of my dreams.” She saw a guy that she probably sensed was manipulable and could be rebuilt into the kind of man she likes; and isn’t love about not changing the person you love, unless it’s in their self-interest.

Like helping them get rid of an unhealthy habit such as smoking? But Amy sees this man, and she probably is physically attracted to him and she did recognize good personality traits.

But she felt that she could make him into a better man, a man that would make her look good, a man that would fit amazing Amy. And so she presents a persona to lure him in (I believe we all do this a little though sometimes) I feel like I should include the famous Cool girl speech here:

Nick loved a girl I was pretending to be. "Cool girl". Men always use that, don't they? As their defining compliment: "She's a cool girl". Cool girl is hot. Cool girl is game. Cool girl is fun. Cool girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrined, loving manner. And then presents her mouth for fucking. She likes what he likes, so evidently, he's a vinyl hipster who loves fetish Manga. If he likes girls gone wild, she's a mall babe who talks for football and endures buffalo wings at Hooters. When I met Nick Dunne I knew he wanted "Cool girl". And for him, I'll admit: I was willing to try. I wax-stripped my pussy raw. I drank canned beer watching Adam Sandler movies. I ate cold pizza and remained a size two. I blew him, semi-regularly. I lived in the moment. I was fucking game. I can't say I didn't enjoy some of it. Nick teased out in me things I didn't know existed. A lightness, a humor, an ease. But I made him smarter. Sharper. I inspired him to rise to my level. I forged the man of my dreams. We were happy pretending to be other people. We were the happiest couple we knew. 

And it works, he’s dazzled and falls for Amy. And while that might seem despicable to some degree, I don’t argue that isn’t. it’s always said that we should be ourselves.

But Amy has got a certain point: society’s not always content with women just being themselves, society wants amplified women, women who her always at their best.

And she knows this better than anyone and refuses to let being a woman bring her down, or believe that it gives her any less right to anything. I mean how can you as a woman (I admit that I did to some degree) or even as a man if you believe men and women are equal, not cheer her on for that belief?

She knows, better than anyone that society’s unfair and it pisses her off, she’s very very angry, and it  seems to become her mission to not only get her personal revenge but in a way for every woman: 

“And if I get everything right, the world will hate Nick for killing his beautiful, pregnant wife. And after all the outrage, when I'm ready, I'll go out on the water with a handful of pills and a pocket full of stones. And when they find my body, they'll know: Nick Dunne dumped his beloved like garbage, and she floated past all the other abused, unwanted, inconvenient women.”

She knows how to use every advantage that being a woman could offer you: she can go from being a man ’s literal fantasy of what constitutes his perfect woman to his worst nightmare in the flinch of an eye.

She uses her sexuality to her advantage and when she benefits from adopting the tired and cliched female victim role to appear sympathetic and inspire pity she does that without blinking an eye.

Still, it begs the question, why did she stage her own disappearance and wanted to frame her husband for murder? Just to get back at him? It took her a lot of creativity, a crazy kind of creativity but still, she made her diary into a testament of an abusive relationship and she even provided the weapon she was supposedly assaulted with, I mean you need a lot of dedication…

As I said earlier Amy craves attention and love, and in her own fucked up way she thinks she’s now found that with Nick, and that she’s now finally on par with Amazing Amy, she has the perfect husband, the perfect life, she’s become the Amazing Amy fantasy.

The first few years of her marriage are wonderful, although it’s difficult to establish if Amy ever was in love (or if she was telling herself she was) but as I said she’s someone that craves loves and attention, or at least a simulation of love, and she absolutely can’t have it when her husband starts to ignore her and only pay attention to her when he sees fit.

Amy is someone you don’t put into a corner and that you simply don’t ignore. Now you could say there is such a thing as talking to someone and explaining how you feel, but all the times we see Amy trying to do that in the film, we see Nick brush her off, and you can feel her anger building, you understand why she is pissed off.

Not that it justifies taking revenge, but in a way you can understand Amy. Nick often is seen as the “good guy, who did nothing wrong” and well he’s not a murderer and he didn’t beat Amy, but the profiteers off of her.

She bought him the bar he works in, and all the expenses are on her own, if something has to be done he leaves it to the wife. He’s maybe not even attracted to her anymore at this point, Amy’s a security that he takes for granted, he also makes decisions without her: moving somewhere entirely new, without okaying it with her, you don’t do that… and if that’s not enough he has an affair too.

And that drives Amy mad; she forged the man of her dreams, but he slips back into a man she didn’t agree to be within her own words, but what bothers her most of all is maybe not what she sees as weak personality traits, it’s the being ignored, the being taken for granted, and being used as a commodity. She senses that it’s not ok, and it really isn’t, she feels that he sucks everything out of her, she’s not a person of her own anymore, there’s no dignity left.

And yet Amy has dignity because she sees this and doesn’t think it’s okay, she compares it to being murdered; and in a way that it is a fitting description, Nick killed her spirit, she feels wronged, scorn.

Only she has a more extreme reaction to it; she’s not going to let him just ignore her, she’s going to remind him who he’s dealing with, put him back in what he believes his place, but she even goes further than just a sharp reprimand, she’s going to make him fear her, make sure he’s forced to pay attention to her and forced to play happy family.

And while what she did after, essentially make it look like she was kidnapped, frame and murder a dude is definitely not okay, it’s messed up, it’s evil, Amy’s evil. But you can’t help but feel a little sorry for her.

She’s definitely mad, but how much of her madness is her fault? How much did what was demanded of her mess her up? Amy’s ruthless; but she comes across as vulnerable at times, almost as if she believes that doing what she’s doing will really make everything alright again, that she can get the man she loved back, it’s her own completely fucked up version of a romantic gesture.

And Amy and Nick are a very fucked up couple, now at first in the film, they come across as the perfect couple, but then you see the flaws and cracks in the design and there’s many.

And still when Amy disappears the way he screams “Amy!” implies the notion to some degree that they may be right for each other, that he cares about his wife somewhere, but he got lazy and didn’t show it often enough.

Which is again a reminder that romance is not always easy to work, you can’t be in a relationship and then think it’s gonna upkeep itself, and not nearly everyone has the strength of character for it. Which in a way maybe makes it a cautionary tale for the modern romance: don’t ignore your partner, because they may just go Amy Dunne on you.

All of what I’ve written doesn’t mean that I agree with Amy’s actions I don’t, not at all. But I think she’s far more complex than just psycho bitch.

she’s actually a very tragically complex character, she’s someone that was never shown how to be happy, never told that she has the right to be happy, and so she does everything to fabricate it in her own desperate way.

Say what you will about Amy as a female character; that she’s crazy, that she’s the devil in female form; dressing up as suburban housewife, but she is absolutely not boring, she’s a scary woman, and scary women exist, it’s just that we don’t often see them in television.

‘Gone Girl’s had to deal with plenty of misogyny claims, that it’s just another women are crazy film, but Fincher does care about Amy as a character, we do see moments that create empathy and sympathy towards her, you see and understand her pain.

She’s not just a spoiled, rich girl that goes on a feminist crusade, she’s not a good woman, not a role model and that’s fine because not all women are good. ‘Gone Girl’ deals with a lot of topics though.

It’s amongst many things a satire on the media, on media circuses and the mob mentality of it sometimes. People feel like they have the right to shred someone to pieces, without proof at times, hell as long as it makes them feel good and provides entertainment.

How it demonizes and destroys people sometimes without proof, there’s no proof that Nick killed his wife yet the whole of America hates him and they’re already tearing him apart. Or the way that Amy who killed someone and framed and ruthlessly plotted the demise of multiple people is heralded as “American heroine” because no one knows, she’s just made everyone fall into his web.

And how one moment the media tears you apart and the next moment it adores. It reminds me of what Ingrid Bergman once said:

"I've gone from saint to whore and back to saint again, all in one lifetime." 

Nick in the film, is at first hated, because it’s instantly supposed that he is a wife killer, just because of the way he uncomfortably smiles (my wife says he’s a killer).

How many times have people said, when they see a photo of a killer I knew it, he/she looks evil! At another point in the film, Nick basically admits publicly to being a shit husband and everyone loves him because admitted he’s an asshole, it shows that people can make or break someone’s reputation on a whim, without it necessarily being true.

These ideas are all present in the book too, but Fincher really adapted them well to the screen. ‘Gone Girl’ is truly a very cinematic film, seemingly very simple and low on special effects, but he really does do some interesting, visually impressive stuff.

The sequences that depict instances Amy describes in her diary, the films in a brilliant att way, these also have impressive use of voiceover, Rosamund Pike narrates in a way that’s chockfull of emotion, and that’s why it works so well.

Fincher’s shows us what she’s describing, and in a way, these scenes have a different feel than the rest of the film, they seem entirely rooted in reality, but at the same time there’s a sort of nightmarish haze them, something’s inherently disturbing in these scenes.

There are moments in her diary when Amy describes violence, her husband pushing her when Fincher shows it to us, it becomes a truly shocking moment, not that a woman being pushed on the ground isn’t shocking.

But here it truly feels realistically violent, he makes the violence of the scene stand out more by using a slow black fade, he makes sure that you’ve really seen it and that it’s burned on your retina for a while.

And the moments that depict the whole media circus are incredibly well done too, there’ s a scene in which an entire horde of journalists, is literally running behind Affleck’s character until he gets to his car, it’s a scene that still kind of stresses me out every time I see it, you really feel how stressful that is for someone.

Fincher does a fantastic job at placing the way a character feels into his film visually, when Amy first meets Nick, they kiss in outside a bakery that’s having its sugar delivered, and there’s a storm of it, and this scene really has something magical about it.

You buy the love story and the passion, shortly after this scene; Fincher cuts to Nick going down on Amy, apparently also controversial, people are still shocked about seeing a woman receive oral sex in a film, a little change is nice us for us ladies too sometimes, the opposite has been shown millions of time.

But Fincher does a fantastic job with this scene, not only is it’s lightning amazing, it’s dark, yet urban light streams into the room creating a very lovely effect. But he really shows the pleasure in the act of both characters, Amy lifts herself up and gaspingly says: Nick Dunne, I really like you. And you absolutely buy it.

The fairytale days are pictured fantastically, they’re not sickeningly sweet, it’s just two people very in love, we all recognize it, we’ve all been there. And then slowly the deteriorating sets in, passionately becomes emotionless, empty.

In a contrasting, brilliant sequence he shows us Amy’s heart is broken, she sees her husband outside of the bakery where they met, doing the exact same thing that he did with her on their first date, to this other woman. And you really get the sense that it’s not so much about the act of cheating, it’s that he’s sharing something personal, that was between the two of them with someone else, we feel Amy’s heartbreaking in that sequence.

Fincher’s famous yellow light is present in this one too (it bothers me with his work sometimes, after a while it seems to all have the same feel visually) but the whole of Gone Girl is incredibly vibrant when it comes to the colours and lighting, it’s seemingly simple, but when it uses dramatic effects, it’s done brilliantly and paired greatly with affecting music, that further strengthens the emotion of a scene.

However, I feel like I should say that the real star of the film is undoubtedly Rosamund Pike as Amy, the girl, woman that it’s all about. Her presence is not always that obvious in the film; throughout the first half of the film, she’s present for only a bit, and then it’s basically just Affleck and flashbacks of Amy, but even then it’s her film, her presence predominates every scene in the film.

It’s got to be said that Affleck also does a good job, Nick Dunne’s not an easy character to play, and while he’s a character that’s not instantly likeable you do after a while become to sympathise with him, he plays Nick perfectly; he’s difficult to read, he seems to miss his wife, but there also seems to be some indifference present. 

He’s weary, tired, and seems lethargic throughout the film, exactly like you think a person that’s being persecuted and whose wife has disappeared would act. I definitely think it’s some Affleck’s best work. But Pike steals some of his spotlights.

Now Pike’s talent has been recognized, before this, she was always good in all the roles that I’ve seen her in, but she never had that much to sink her teeth into. Amy’s the character that has really allowed her to display her talent, not only did she put lots of work into the role: she read all the books Flynn recommended she read, and she also put work into adopting a handwriting that would fit Amy’s character.

Pike can transform here both physically and emotionally, and she does much more than the classic gaining or losing weight although she does that, and it’s not simply letting herself go either, there’s a pre disappearance and after disappearance Amy.

Amy’s an elegant stylish woman, yet in her anger and as part of her plan, she just completely lets herself go, she eats junk food, barely takes care of her physical appearance and just has a general air of sadness.

And in one scene she’s sweet when she tells Nick about her parent’s money troubles and what it will mean for them, or when she tells Nick she wants a child, these are all touching moments.

And then she snaps, and just brutally kills a man, she’s methodical, efficient, merciless, like a Greek goddess, she can be perfectly sexy one moment, and then she can literally annihilate anyone that stands in her way or that makes her feels threatened. 

It’s a truly shocking image, and Pike is perfectly unpredictable throughout, the best thing about her performance is that not only does she manipulate and set other characters to her will, and in a way scarily enough, she manipulates us too.

‘Gone Girl’s scariest message, is that everything is about perception, we see things, they seem a certain way and then we come to our own conclusions, sometimes we may be right and other times we may be right, at other times if we jump to conclusions too quickly, we might create terrible consequences. 

And then the scariest of all, even when we’re with someone and we love them, and though we feel like we know them inside out, they’re still a completely different person, they’re own person, with their own world inside of them and ‘Gone Girl’s seems to insistently whisper that it’s all advised to forget and disrespect that.

“When I think of my wife, I always think of the back of her head. I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brain, trying to get answers. The primal questions of a marriage: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? What have we done to each other? What will we do?”