#and also more shots of the apartments in dead boy detectives

[tieflinglich]

the problem with neurodivergence is when you are very intensely interested in a non-important detail of something popular which means you can’t find any content for it because no one else is looking at the fucking background

[mellxncollie]

Part 2 — this time with a focus on the flashbacks

(Check out the first post for some background info that will be useful)

When we’re looking at the cinematography of any piece, once we’ve established what the norm is (which is the use of anamorphic lenses, as per the last post) we can then look to see where it diverges. As far as I can tell, the only part of Dead Boy Detectives that doesn’t use an anamorphic lens is Edwin’s flashback scene. 

Now this is particularly interesting since not only is it filmed with a spherical lens, but it also is the only scene with a different aspect ratio, and the only scene in black and white. Everything about this scene is glaringly different. The easy and obvious reason is that it sets this scene apart as something important to pay attention to, as well as emphasizing the difference in the time period. But I want to highlight how exactly it does this since it is quite clever. 

It also raises the question: Why not film Charles’ flashback scenes differently? 

Like last time, let’s start with a review of history and technical information. 

What is an aspect ratio?

This is just the ratio of the width to height of the frame. 1:1 is a square, whereas 2:1 is a rectangle twice as wide as it is high. In film, aspect ratios are usually listed as a ratio of x:1, so you get common formats like 1.85:1 and 2.39:1 (the second being a super-widescreen format, i.e. a long rectangle). Other common ratios are listed with different numbers, like 4:3 and 16:9. Any time I write an aspect ratio with other numbers, I’ll also list it at least once with the x:1 format so you can compare things easily.

What are some common aspect ratios and what have the standards been across the past 100+ years of film and television history?

Brief history of aspect ratios in Film 

The original silent films were mostly filmed in 4:3 (1.33:1). This aspect ratio persisted until the late 20s/early 30s when the Academy Ratio, 1.375:1, was introduced and somewhat standardized (at least in the USA) until the 50s. Then, widescreen became pretty popular and was used to draw audiences to the theaters. At this point, we get tons of variation in aspect ratios in films. But, for American theaters, common projections are 1.85:1 (which became super common) and 2.40:1 or 2.39:1, whereas in some European theaters, 1.66:1 is a more common ratio. 

Some other common ratios deal particularly with 70mm film:

Standard 70mm film is usually 2.2:1. However, using anamorphic lenses will create a higher aspect ratio, and unless using a specific format common in the 50s and 60s (Todd-AO), this wasn’t often the aspect ratio that viewers would see. (The Sound of Music was shot with Todd-AO in 2.2:1, but until recently, most people only saw the general release in 35mm, which had a different aspect ratio)

IMAX, which is 1.43:1 (if IMAX is shot on film and not digital, it uses 70mm film)

Brief history of aspect ratios in Television 

Pretty much all televisions until around the 1990s-2000s used 4:3, and broadcasters would show content in that aspect ratio. If a movie was broadcast over TV, sometimes there would be letterboxing (black bars), but pan-and-scan was common, where they would crop the movie to the 4:3 ratio, and pan around to wherever the action was happening. Starting in the 90s, widescreen televisions started to gain traction, and the 16:9 (1.77:1) format prevailed, and TV broadcasting had some more wiggle room for aspect ratio. 

**Side note: Computers are often at this ratio, so if you watch older TV shows on your laptop, you’ll probably see pillarboxing (black columns on the sides), whereas newer movies are often shot with higher aspect ratios so they have letterboxing (black bars on the top and bottom)**

A note on widescreen

Movies are usually considered widescreen if they’re any higher than 4:3 (or 1.33:1). However, because of the aspect ratio of modern TVs and computers, and the even higher aspect ratios of most smartphones in landscape mode, a lot of people (especially younger generations) won’t consider things “widescreen” until they’ve got a much higher aspect ratio.

Streaming and Aspect Ratios

A weird effect of streaming services, and in particular Netflix, was the rise of a new standard in aspect ratios, 2:1. It’s used in shows like Stranger Things. It’s widescreen enough that it feels cinematic but it displays well on lots of devices. There’s minimal letterboxing (or none) on your phone, and more letterboxing on your computer and TV, but not enough to seem like you’re watching a movie instead of a show. 

Netflix (and Amazon) really like this aspect ratio. In 2017, one of the production requirement documents from Netflix stated that any aspect ratio greater than 2:1 had to be subject to further approval (though now they state “Aspect ratio choices should be discussed with Netflix for approval”). It’s become increasingly common, and these companies have a pretty set standard for 1.9:1 and 2:1. If we see those ratios on a streaming show it isn’t always a creative choice, similar to the way older TV shows were required to be in 4:3. 

A brief reminder about lens types with some extra bits about the timeline.

That 2.39:1 aspect ratio that movies use? That’s the standard for anamorphic lenses (discussed in Part 1). Anamorphic technology was developed around 1915 (for military reasons), but wasn’t used for films until 1927, and didn’t become commonly used until the 50s. 

So, with that, let’s look at Dead Boy Detectives.

Aspect Ratio

The whole show is shot with anamorphic lenses, but instead of a 2.39:1 ratio, they use a 2.2:1 ratio. This is a really interesting choice since it is an uncommon ratio. It’s more widescreen than Netflix shows (they started shooting before being acquired by Netflix though so we can ignore any impact Netflix may have had on this decision) but not quite the widescreen that anamorphic lenses typically use. 

Movies and shows can use almost any aspect ratio today, but it is still common to stick to the standards. When they choose something else, it’s not because of technical limitations, but because of a creative choice.

The one caveat I have is that Doom Patrol used 2.2:1, so it’s possible that HBO and DC originally just chose this for continuity between the two, before the show was shifted over to Netflix and the Sandman universe. But for this post, I’m going to assume that they were sort of starting from scratch when choosing the look. 

If we consider what a 2.2:1 ratio has been used for, and what viewers have been “trained” to associate it with, we end up with Todd-AO 70mm prints and a few others from the 50s and 60s. It’s the kind of aspect ratio you don’t see often unless you’re lucky enough to live near a theater with a 70mm film projector. There are a few notable movies shot in this aspect ratio: Lawrence of Arabia and 2001: A Space Odyssey. Some more recent movies that used 2.2:1 include Dunkirk, Tomorrowland, Nope, and the non-IMAX parts of Oppenheimer. It’s also occasionally used in recent TV, but not a ton, and not with many popular shows. 

This is an aspect ratio used by large-format, high-budget movies. As mentioned in the previous post, anamorphic lenses are associated with a romanticized notion of “cinema” and this aspect ratio only serves to further that, associating Dead Boy Detectives with the limited pool of content made in this aspect ratio. It may be a TV show, but it’s being shot like a movie. 

Another really interesting point that follows up on the previous post is the idea of using cinematography to enhance the sense of the supernatural and separate the characters from the normalcy of the real world. The aspect ratio is a bit unnatural too, which serves to complement and augment this. 

Let’s briefly look at what the show would look like in different aspect ratios. As a baseline, this is the 2.2:1 aspect ratio that the show is in:

If they had gone for a 2.39:1, a very typical aspect ratio for the kind of lenses they’re using, it would look like this:

When we see things shot with anamorphic lenses, we’re used to seeing it in a frame like this one. Especially in shots like this with the dramatic lens flares, this is going to look and feel familiar to people who watch a lot of movies. It has more of that Star Trek (2009) look, and feels kind of glossy and polished. 

Next up, we have 2:1, the aspect ratio popularized by Netflix. It’s a reasonable possibility that if this show had been produced by Netflix from the very beginning, this is what it would look like.

Over the past few years, this has become the “streaming platform” aspect ratio. With the extra vertical height, it’s got some extra space to breathe. We would get less of the background and more of the characters, especially since Dead Boy Detectives favors centered shots of single characters over group shots like this one. 

Finally, I’ve got the scene in 1.85:1, a ubiquitous film aspect ratio, yet one that is not used often on TV.

This is considered to be standard widescreen and it’s a great aspect ratio. Given how many creative decisions in this show were made to emphasize the supernatural, this could have been another good option as an aspect ratio, since we’re not used to seeing TV shows like this. However, they’re using anamorphic lenses so this would have required a lot of cropping. Because of how the anamorphic lenses work, this would also necessitate a lot of additional attention during the shoot. If they had gone with 1.85:1, we likely would have gotten a show shot on sphericals instead. 

So what about Edwin’s flashback?

This section is shot in 4:3 (1.33:1). It’s the only part shot in a different aspect ratio. Sure, changing the aspect ratio forces us to acknowledge the difference in time period, but why exactly does it work so well?

Remember the history part? 4:3 was used for most of the early silent films. If we are to consider the “historical accuracy” of shooting the different time periods in this show, anamorphic lenses and 2.2:1 make sense for the present-day parts and Charles’ flashback. 

But in 1916, widescreen cinema wasn’t a thing. If Edwin had ever been to see a movie while alive, it would have been in 4:3. The first time he would have ever gotten to see something in widescreen (if we assume he watches any movies at all) would be after he escaped Hell. 

Using this aspect ratio is not just a vague decision that a lower aspect ratio and black & white looks older. It is, like many other aspects of the show, historically informed. They could have used the academy ratio here, but they didn’t. They used 4:3. 

Not only does the aspect ratio switch for this scene, but also the height of the image changes.

This transition also sort of mimics the breathing effect of anamorphic lenses:

Something you may not know about how Netflix usually works is that regardless of the aspect ratio of the picture, the video file you see is part of a larger container, which is usually 16:9 (1.77:1). The black bars on top and bottom are part of the file, as shown in this screenshot of how it looks when you load up some screencaps in photoshop.

If you make gifs, edits, or are otherwise just used to having video files you are probably familiar with this. The Dead Boy Detectives files have letterboxing that is cropped out whenever people make fan content with it, whereas if you have a file for an independent movie, it usually does not have those black bars. Those black bars being part of the file make this transition possible.

We don’t usually realize that the container extends beyond the picture. For all we know, that’s the edge of the frame. But then it changes and forces us to reconsider what we previously thought to be true. Breaking out of what we think to be the image height is jarring, especially considering that this is the only time it happens (other than the brief flashbacks to the same footage later in the show). 

Here’s a mockup of what it would look like if they kept the same image height, and just moved from 2.2:1 to 4:3 without expanding vertically. I find that it doesn’t have quite the same effect.

This would look so cool if it was being shown at a movie theater on a huge widescreen, but we’re not watching this show in theaters. We’re watching it on screens where this would make it look small; what they do instead retains the feel of watching something big and cinematic. 

So back to the actual transition:

In breaking out of the perceived container, it’s as if it were breaking the fourth wall, an acknowledgment of the video’s format and its true container. This story is addressed to the audience in a way that the rest of the show is not, and it uses the aspect ratio to let us know that. 

Spherical Lens

(I would highly recommend you read pt 1 if you haven’t already)

Edwin’s flashback is not only the sole scene with its own aspect ratio, it’s also the only scene shot with a spherical lens. Like the aspect ratio, this is a historically informed choice. Anamorphic lenses technically existed during the last year or two of Edwin’s life, but movies were not being shot on them. 

How do we know that a spherical lens is being used, and how does this affect the show?

One of the quickest ways to identify the lens is to look at the shapes of the bokeh. There’s not much bokeh in the flashback, so I apologize for the intensity of my first example. But here, look behind Edwin’s head, where the lights from above reflect on the wet basement floor. They’re all circles, instead of the ovals that we get with the anamorphics.

The lens flares are also really different. Remember that the anamorphic lens flares are horizontal lines. Spherical lenses don’t do that, but they can produce lots of different kinds of lens flares. In this shot, the flashlight pointed at the lens lets off lines in lots of directions, kind of like sun rays.

This shot has another cool flare, in much more detail this time:

The next shot shows us more of the circular bokeh and another kind of lens flare. 

For the bokeh, look at the lights on the ceiling as well as the corners of the out-of-focus architectural details (the semi-arches). 

The lens flare here is the bouncing, blurry circle near the middle, as well as the brighter shape near the center bottom. 

We can then look at the things that are not different, but absent when using the spherical lens: barrel distortion and focus falloff. 

In this example, look at the windows in the background, as well as Edwin’s chair. An anamorphic lens would distort the vertical lines, bending them into a gentle fisheye. It would also make that chair and the lines of the window frames a bit blurry, as they’re close to the edges of the frame. Instead, the lines are straight and clear throughout the whole shot.

In this next example, not only do we get a great view of the lack of focus falloff, with clear lines throughout the shot, but we can see more of the difference in perspective and distortion of lines. 

You may notice that the windows and doors are not perfectly straight up and down. But is this barrel distortion? If there was barrel distortion, the walls would curve back towards the center of the frame at the top. 

Spherical lenses are often the ‘default’ lens. They’re wonderful and used in a lot of media because they are neutral. They distort less, thus representing the world closer to how it actually is. If we consider the anamorphic lenses in the rest of the show being used to enhance the sense of supernatural and story, changing to a spherical lens enhances the sharp reality. This is Edwin, alive.

The image breaks out of its perceived container, reaching out to the audience, and then changes the lens to be more ‘real.’ In these two changes, not only do we have a more historically accurate image, but it's as if the creators are issuing a warning to us. Maybe the demon isn’t real, but bullies are. Kids can be cruel. Classmates hurt their queer peers. This is not fantasy, and this is as true in 1916 as it is today. 

Using a spherical lens in this instance, juxtaposed to the rest of the show, is a dramatic shift to make, as it alters just about everything in the image. In using a less distorted picture, for this, we are reminded of reality and life and the mundane. 

On Charles’ Flashback (and an experiment)

Edwin’s flashback got the Cinematography Treatment™ but what about Charles’ flashback? It’s shot with the same aspect ratio and lens as the rest of the show. From the perspective of historical accuracy, this is fine. It’s a scene that could have been shot in 1989, cinematographically speaking. The reason I suspect that it wasn’t given any stand-out look is because, unlike Edwin’s flashback, Charles’ flashback scenes are closely tied to the present-day plot. They aren’t just scenes of Charles remembering things, they are a direct result of the Night Nurse’s “memory magic.” 

Maybe changing something here would separate us too much from the plot. Both flashbacks (in episodes 4 and 7) are induced for a specific purpose related to other present-day characters. It wouldn’t make as much sense to have them be standalones. 

However, if I were simultaneously the showrunner, screenwriter, and cinematographer, I would give Charles a standalone flashback scene. In that flashback scene, here’s how I would shoot it:

There would be a much deeper depth of field/smaller aperture than the rest of the show, so the background would be more in focus.

There would be harder, less-diffused lighting. This would also impact the coloring, and I’d maybe add some more saturated lights.

I’d try to make an argument to shoot that scene on film (and then argue to do Edwin’s on film too).

There would be a different aspect ratio; 2.2:1 isn’t out of the realm of possibility for the 80s, but it wasn’t common, and it wouldn’t have the kind of impact I’m searching for if it didn’t change.

There are three different aspect ratios I would choose between, and the lens would change depending on my pick. 

I’ve made some mock-ups for how these would look, though I cannot adjust things like bokeh and depth of focus, and I can only do so much with the lighting.

2.39:1 with anamorphic lenses (specifically Panavision lenses) This is a super standard widescreen, with a popular lens from the time. We don’t have lens info for the rest of the show, but I think they’re using Panavision anamorphics anyway so the lens may not be a change. Big, blockbuster action movies from the 80s would often be shot in this (perhaps most relevantly, Ghostbusters), and it’s a style that kind of faded in popularity in the 90s and 2000s, so it can have more of a retro look, especially if shot on film. One downside to this would be the aspect ratio change would not be as dramatic.

Movies from the 80s shot with this combo: Raiders of the Lost Ark (and other Indiana Jones movies), Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (as well as Episode 4, which came out in the 70s. Episode 6 used the same ratio and did use anamorphic lenses, but not Panavision), Ghostbusters

1.85:1 and spherical lenses. This is also ‘widescreen,’ but the advantage of using this aspect ratio is that we could get another dramatic breaking of the image container, just like in Edwin’s flashback. It’s an incredibly common setup, so it’s not really unique, but it would look different from the rest of the show. Given how pervasive ultra-widescreen still is today, I think a lower aspect ratio would also ramp up the ‘nostalgia’ factor a bit. Using a spherical lens we’d end up with the same sense of stark reality that we get for Edwin’s flashback as well (the warning that kids are cruel, but this time to people of color), and I like the idea of that as a parallel.

Movies from the 80s shot with this combo: Back to the Future, Dirty Dancing, The Princess Bride, An American Werewolf in London, Clue, Another Country

1.66:1 and spherical lenses. This is a ratio that was used widely across Europe, but has never been a common ratio in the USA. However, by the 80s, filmmakers were going for a more widescreen look so it was fading from popularity everywhere. The 80s liked widescreen, so it’s maybe not the best pick for making a scene look “80s”. However, my main motivation for this ratio is that my personal picks for the most Edwin-coded and most Charles-coded queer films are both 80s films shot with a 1.66:1 ratio. We would also get the same benefits from using the spherical lens as I mentioned in the 1.85:1 section.

Movies from the 80s shot with this combo: Maurice, My Beautiful Laundrette, Law of Desire (La ley del deseo), and an honorable mention to Chungking Express, a 90s film that really exemplifies the kind of look I'm going for here

Giving Charles’ flashback a special treatment would probably do a lot to more firmly establish his character as a co-protagonist rather than a deuteragonist, which is definitely not the case but does seem to be how some people view him.

With the impact of the spherical lens and aspect ratio in Edwin’s flashback, the final two options for Charles flashback would be the closest in terms of echoing Edwin’s flashback, and would probably provide the most gravity and sense of crushing reality to the scene. 

Setting a single scene (or two scenes) aside like this, with a unique aspect ratio, lens, and color grading (which I didn’t explore much for the Charles flashback), makes us consider a scene more independently from the rest of the show. Edwin’s flashback is a striking moment with a very different look, and that’s deeply memorable. It comes together to push how tragic and unjust Edwin’s story is. 

—————

This concludes the planned portion of my cinematography analysis. I had a ton of fun researching and writing this (and making all the graphics) and I hope you all find this interesting/helpful/informative :) 

Finally, I want to give another name drop to the cinematographers, Marc Laliberté, Craig Powell, and Pierre Gill. They’ve really nailed it from the very first episode to the last, and there’s so much intention and thought given to every aspect of how they shoot this.

[indecisivecosplayer]

My issue with Despair's journey to the screen

I just finished Dead Boy Detectives and I think I've finally realised what my issue has been with the on-screen adaptations of Despair. It's not the acting, or even the wardrobe that is the issue (although the costume is not necessarily my favourite).

When we think about the concept of Despair, she is a something that creeps up on you. She is powerful, all consuming. She's confident in her own ability and purpose. She's a whisper in the back of your head that grows and grows until you're full to the brim with shadows and she's leaking out into everything around you.

And I think this could be done on screen. There just needs to be a change in the way she is shot, and what music is used.

Imagine a Despair, standing in her realm, observing through the mirrors. Half her face is in shadows, and the camera drifts to focus on her hand, where her hook is digging into her skin and a trail of blood is leaking down onto the floor. (Also imagine giving her pointed teeth. We really missed out there. That would be so cool.) Shoot from lower rather than above to make her seem larger and more intimidating. Show us her eyes, and her hair tied back, and the way her body moves when she breathes. Show us the tiny movements that break the stillness.

The music should be creepy, either silence apart from a soft rasping breathing noise, OR a quiet, slightly screechy violin, just playing by itself, a slow creeping tune.

Give us a long time to take her in, and then, just before she speaks, let the noise drown out and give us a long close up of her smile, wide and sharp, as she stares into the mirror. We hear a few drops of blood splatter against the floor.

And then she speaks and everything stops. She commands silence. The shot is a close-up of her mouth as she speaks. Then it moves to see the reaction of the listener, and after that we get mid to wide shots.

But she never stops seeming powerful, because that's exactly what she is. If Desire can be shot in a way that shows their strength and influence, then so can their twin. We need to start giving her the respect she deserves.

[the-nerdiest-insanity]

Home Is With You

Also on Ao3

Day 3 of the Dead Boy Detectives Pride Month Prompts- "I miss home"

Three days after returning from Port Townsend, a new case sent the trio out of the country again. The boys barely had a chance to start accommodating the office, and Crystal hadn’t even figured out where she would want to stay in London yet. Someone from Crystal’s past, currently residing in Ireland, needed their assistance. Apparently, old Crystal threw around information on her powers as freely as her parents’ money.

A painful hour and a half flight later, the agency had landed in Dublin. Crystal was attempting to calm the boys down the whole time, telling them it would be a quick and easy case. Edwin was making it well known that he still objected to traveling the long way even though the other two clearly saw how fascinated he was with air travel every time. Oddly, Charles was pacing both the airport and the plane like a caged animal the whole time. He brushed off both Crystal and Edwin’s advances in conversation, constantly keeping his head on a swivel. 

Crystal’s friend, Emily, picked them up from the airport while debriefing them on the current status of the case. Emily recently moved into a new apartment, and it appeared to be haunted. Objects of hers disappearing, banging in the night, things moving through the air on their own, etcetera. Crystal shot the boys a few looks, attempting to tell them, “See? Easy.” Edwin still appeared annoyed, and Charles agitated.

The drive was short, and they were swiftly at Emily’s door. As she was about to turn the handle, she turned back to Crystal, saying, “Be careful walking around in there.” Her eyes drifted passed Crystal’s shoulder to look at the boys. “All of you.”

Charles instinctively reached an arm in front of Edwin while reaching one toward the back of Crystal’s jacket. “Crystal, wait–”

Emily opened the door, and a black cat scrambled out through everyone’s legs. The agency members all jumped back while Emily sighed, “Tinks, what did we discuss about scaring new people?”

The cat squinted at their owner and meowed indignantly. 

“They’re here to stop whoever or whatever is messing with us, so play nice,” Emily replied.

Tinks glanced over the newcomers, their gaze lingering momentarily on Edwin. Charles stepped slightly in front of the other ghost. Seemly satiated, Tinks trotted back into the apartment.

“Sorry about her,” Emily said, now moving in as well, “She’s very territorial, especially with everything strange going on.”

The detectives lingered outside the door, staring in. They could see a sitting room on the left with a connected kitchen and a short hallway on the right leading likely to Emily’s bedroom or whatever other rooms she had. In the bit of the kitchen they could see, there were herbs hanging to dry with a bookshelf separating it from the living room. A couple of the books had copies on the agency’s shelves.

Charles gently grabbed Crystal’s arm and led her a couple more steps away from the door. “You didn’t tell us your friend knew about the supernatural.”

Crystal looked just as stunned and confused. “I didn’t know! She wasn’t this invested in it the last time I saw her.” She glanced around the still-empty complex hallway and stepped closer to whisper, “The last time I saw her was three years ago when I made out with her girlfriend after she told me she thought I was hot. I wasn’t exactly keeping tabs on her lifestyle choices after that.”

“Did you really lead us to a different country yet again to help someone who, this time, actively dislikes you, last you knew?” Edwin butted in, having overheard.

“I’m trying to be a better person,” Crystal defended. “In case you forgot, and part of that is trying to help people I hurt and fix our broken relationships.”

“Alright,” Charles broke the two up harshly. “Let’s just get the information we need and get out of here. I don’t like the feel of this place.”

“Are you three going to come in or just keep whispering about me at my door?” Emily asked.

Edwin and Crystal both huffed. “Let us begin our investigation,” Edwin declared before finally entering the house.

…

Three hours later, they were getting nowhere. None of the strange phenomena occurred, and physically searching the place came up empty. It was getting dark, so Crystal politely declined Emily’s spare bedroom in favor of going to the hotel she’d booked.

Crystal threw down her small bag and flopped onto the bed. “Don’t wake me until 9 or there’s a fire,” she mumbled into a pillow, knowing the boys would get the gist.

Edwin sat down on the couch, flipping through his notes to see if he might have missed any possible leads. Emily clearly can see ghosts and communicate with supernatural creatures, so why can’t she see what’s in her apartment? Unless they were using some form of cloaking, but he’d need something more specific. “Charles, do you have…” Edwin trailed off as he looked up at his partner. Charles was pacing again. His brow was furrowed as his hands were opening and clenching at his sides. “Are you alright, Charles?” Edwin asked instead.

Charles stopped and plastered on a smile. He opened his mouth before letting his face fall and rethinking his words. “I just…” He fidgeted with his jacket’s zipper. “It’s been a lot lately, yeah?” He began slowly pacing once more. “I mean, Post Townsend was a whole thing itself, then we barely get a moment’s peace at the office before being shuffled off to another country again. Plus, we got Charlie and Crystal, and we’ve still got no idea what Jenny’s doing. We went to Hell, got tortured, and lost Niko and…” He stopped pacing, grunting in frustration.

Edwin stood, trying to figure out how to help when Charles continued, “Don’t get me wrong, Crystal and everyone, they’re aces, but I just miss us, you know? It was so much easier.” Charles stopped and turned to stare Edwin down. He was breathing heavily looking on the verge of tears. “I miss home,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Before Edwin had a chance to wonder what Charles’s parents had to do with this, he was being enveloped in a hug. Oh. That kind of home.

Carefully, Edwin reciprocated, holding tightly as Charles hiccupped sobs onto his shoulder. As the tears slowly died out, Edwin gently and firmly said, “Home will always be right here. I’m not leaving, and you certainly won’t let anything take me away.” Charles huffed out a weak laugh. “We’ll be back at the agency very soon, and I will talk to both Crystal and the Night Nurse about not taking any long-distance cases for a year.”

Charles sniffled and pulled away just enough to look at Edwin as he said, “You don’t have to do that, mate. It’s fine.”

Edwin squeezed his shoulder, refusing to let go until the other did. “No, it’s not. I don’t like these types of cases either, and we shouldn’t have to push ourselves. We didn’t for thirty years and shouldn’t change now for others.”

Charles’s eyes fluttered over Edwin’s face, making him want to look away. Softly, Charles brought their heads together. “Never change, Edwin Payne,” he whispered.

“Nor you, Charles Rowland.:

[aegor-bamfsteel]

How do you think Theon Greyjoy would have fared at the Archery contest during the Hand’s Tourney in AGOT?

As mentioned in a similar ask about Sarella, Anguy won that contest by outshooting “Ser Balon Swann and Jalabhar Xho at a hundred paces after all the other bowmen had been eliminated at the shorter distances,” (AGOT, Eddard 7) which can be estimated at about 250 feet. Has Theon ever been shown to shoot that far, and (if not), can we estimate his maximum range from known cases? (No, of course I wouldn’t just say “pretty well” or “not great” based on reputation).

Right off the bat, Theon has a few more instances of shooting arrows than Sarella (who just has the one scene in the AFFC Prologue) mentioning that he’s been practicing archery under Dagmer Cleftjaw (so before the age of 9) and had pretty good accuracy even then (saying he put an arrow through a “seagull on the wing” in ACOK Theon 3). Tyrion, a complete stranger, vaguely remembers Theon being “good with a bow” (ACOK Tyrion XI), and it sounds like he was one of the archers who shot down the Frey ravens (AGOT Catelyn IX) among Brynden Tully’s men. However, I’ve found two instances of Theon shooting arrows where we can roughly estimate the distance (if anybody has found other cases, please point them out).

Drunk, Theon decided, watching [Todric] bellow. It was said that the ironmen of old had oft been blood-drunk in battle, so berserk that they felt no pain and feared no foe, but this was a common ale-drunk. "Wex, my bow and quiver." The boy ran and fetched them. Theon bent the bow and slipped the string into its notches as Todric knocked down the Botley boy and flung ale into his eyes. Fishwhiskers leapt up cursing, but Theon was quicker. He drew on the hand that clutched the drinking horn, figuring to give them a shot to talk about, but Todric spoiled it by lurching to one side just as he loosed. The arrow took him through the belly. The looters stopped to gape. Theon lowered his bow. "No drunkards, I said, and no squabbles over plunder." On his knees, Todric was dying noisily. "Botley, silence him." Fishwhiskers and his sons were quick to obey. They slit Todric's throat as he kicked feebly, and were stripping him of cloak and rings and weapons before he was even dead. —ACOK Theon III

Theon intends to shoot at Todric’s drinking horn but shoots him in the belly instead due to sudden movement, so he’s close enough to see fairly small objects. He’s also able to make himself heard to the people next to Todric without it being mentioned that he had to move closer or raise his voice. A normal conversational voice is 60 decibels (dB). Sound pressure level normally halves (by six decibels) for each doubling of distance, meaning the distance between Theon and Todric at the point of shooting was about 40 feet.

The other instance is when Theon, carrying a longbow and with long razor-tipped broadhead arrows, shoots Stiv when he holds a dagger at Bran’s throat:

A low thrum came from the woods behind them. Stiv gave a choked gasp as a half foot of razor-tipped broadhead suddenly exploded out of his chest. The arrow was bright red, as if it had been painted in blood. The dagger fell away from Bran's throat. The big man swayed and collapsed, facedown in the stream. —AGOT Bran V

Bran is able to hear (though quietly) Theon shoot the arrow before it makes impact with Stiv’s chest. This is fairly significant because at shorter distances, Bran wouldn’t have been able to detect the arrow’s shooting and impact as separate events, and it’s estimated that humans can separate sounds as little as 20-30 milliseconds apart. Since sound travels 343 m/s through air, that puts the minimum distance of Theon from Stiv at 6.86m or 20.6 feet. However, that doesn’t take into account how loud the thrum of Theon’s bow is. It may be surprising that longbows are actually one of the quietest bows (the recurve is louder, and the crossbow the loudest) and the larger arrows like broadheads make quieter noises when shot, because the energy the bowstring would’ve made slapping the wood is transferred into hurling the arrow. According to this thread, the longbow firing could be around 74dB or over 10 times louder than normal conversation, about as loud as a vacuum cleaner. Using the same formula for sound over distance as in the Todric example, 74dB can be heard from about 90 feet away, meaning the distance between Stiv and Theon was between 20 and 90 feet (though admittedly, definitely closer to 90, maybe about 85 feet).

That’s about all I can estimate about Theon’s maximum archery distance; it’s less than 100 feet, far less than Anguy’s winning distance of 250 feet. It seems his archery talent is more in his accuracy at hitting small (sometimes moving) targets at somewhat “close” distances rather than hitting larger stationary targets at very far distances (maybe significant foreshadowing for his role in protecting the Starks in TWOW?) Meanwhile, the Hand’s Archery Contest in AGOT was based on who could hit archery butts from the farthest pace away, which is definitely not Theon’s strong point if my textual analysis means anything. Just based on what I can determine about sound distance from two more detailed scenarios of his shooting, Theon would probably make it to the early-middle rounds of the Hand’s Archery Contest and get eliminated by 40 paces/100 feet from the targets, (and probably insult all the men who got further than he did and mock the idea of Ned getting a tourney in general to make himself feel better about losing so soon).

[final-girl96]

Broken World: Chapter Five

The Quarry

We slowly drove up the winding dirt road that led back to the quarry. In the distance, you could see a crystal clear blue lake. It was so beautiful and looked so peaceful. It was almost like the world wasn't falling apart, the dead pouring from its seams, ripping and tearing to get out so they could grab any living thing with their decaying hands and rip their rotting teeth into its flesh.

Shortly after, as we grew closer and closer to the camp that sat just up on the hill from the lake, an RV came into view. An umbrella sat over a folding chair, and that chair sat the speck of a person, who slowly started to stand. The closer we got, the more I could see. There were a few cars parked behind the RV, tents scattered around in a little tent city. A couple of places had fire pits, one for cooking, one for the group to sit around. A separate firepit sat separate from the others a little ways.

People started to gather as Glenn came to a stop. An older man with a white beard and a bucket hat stood in the front with two blonde women off to the side. On his other side stood a man with dark hair wearing a gray tee shirt with some kind of symbol on the left breast. A dark-haired woman with a small boy standing behind her stood not far from him. "They're all nice people. You'll fit in just fine," Glenn said before getting out of the car. The hair haired man and the man with the white beard walked over to him.

I sighed, looking down at my lap. My badge hung from a chain around my neck. The only time I ever took it off was when I would clean up and go to sleep. It was somewhat of a security blanket for me, I suppose. It was something that told me I was going to be okay and I could survive this mess. But it was also a reminder of the reason I didn't have the one person I wished was by my side. I had to remind myself that I worked hard to get this badge and Daryl Dixon could go fuck himself.

I looked back up to see the dark haired man pointing at me. Glenn turned around and gave me a small smile, nodding his head to come over and meet everyone. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped out into the Georgia heat. I walked over beside Glenn and looked at the dark-haired man in front of me. He looked down at my badge and then back up at me. "You're a cop?" He asked. I looked at the symbol on his shirt. It was for a police department in Kings County.

"I was a detective," I said. He nodded his head. "I'm Officer Shane Walsh," he held out his hand and I shook it. "YN Stone. I hope you don't mind Glenn bringing me back with him. I did bring some guns and ammo, along with some food and water." The man with the white beard came to stand in front of me and shook my hand. "I'm Dale. You're more than welcome." His soft smile helped put me a ease. He seemed like he was the reason of the group. The person who gave purpose and hope to everyone.

Dale introduced me to everyone, Andrea and Amy, who were sisters. The Morales family, Sophia and Carol, and Carol's husband Ed, whom I got a bad vibe from. Jim, Jacquie, and T-Dog. A few others in the camp and then finally Lori and her son Carl. I learned Lori's husband and Shane's best friend were also a cop. He had been shot a few weeks before everything happened and was in a comma went shit went down. Shane tried to go back for him, but there was nothing he could do with all the machines he was hooked to, and then the hospital was bombed.

They had an extra tent available for me to use, which I was grateful for. I looked around while I helped unpack the supplie Glenn and I brought back. I noticed a truck that looked oddly familiar, but I just shook my head and put it out of my mind. There were apparently two other people, but they were out hunting for the group. That night, we sat around the fire and exchanged stories, and I was asked a lot of questions.

"So you were a detective?" Andrea asked. I learned that she was a civil rights lawyer before the outbreak. I nodded my head, "Yes. I was a homicide detective," I said. "You're kind of young, aren't you?" She asked. I chuckled and looked down at my lap. "Um…yeah, I'm only twenty-six. I had to work really hard to get where I was. But it was a dream of mine, and I wasn't going to stop until I made it happen." After a while, everyone went to bed, and Shane climbed on top of the rv to keep watch.

I lay on the cot in my tent, staring up at the canvas ceiling. It's been a while since I had any kind of interaction with people. It felt nice not to be alone. I was so grateful that Glenn showed up. Everyone here seemed super nice. Well, apart from Ed, Carol's husband. Carol is a sweet woman but very timid. One look at Ed told me he wasn't a good man. I could also sense secrets in the group. Especially between Shane and Lori.

I shook my head to clear my mind. My fingers curled around my badge, and I closed my eyes. I don't know how long I laid there like that, but eventually, I fell asleep. It wasn't a deep sleep, I've never been one to sleep too deeply. I was a light sleeper and woke up at any nose I heard. It was going to take some time getting used to sleeping in a tent outside so close to the woods.

I know they said that walkers don't come up this way, but one day, they'll run out of food in the city and start looking for more elsewhere. I tossed and turned on my cot for a couple hours, trying to get some kind of sleep, and when I failed, I sat up and left the tent. The air was a lot cooler now that it was dark. But by the time the sun came up, it would be warm again and only get warmer as the day went on.

I looked over at the RV to now see Dale sitting in the chair on top of it. I slowly walked over and climbed the ladder on the back of the rv, climbing to the top. "Mind if I join you? I couldn't sleep," I whispered, not wanting to wake anyone sleeping inside. He gave me a soft, kind smile and nodded his head. I walked over and sat near him. I dangled my legs over the side of the rv and looked out over the lake. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" I hummed in response. "It really is. I don't think I've ever seen such blue water before," I said. We sat in a comfortable silence until the sun started to come up.

[billpottsismygf]

And I've finished Dead Boy Detectives! I'm sad it's over, especially as it's been really nice taking my time with the episodes rather than bingeing the whole thing. So much happened in this episode, but I'll try to keep it brief.

Crystal's revelation about her parents was devastating and so well played. The same goes for her memories more generally. I loved her chat with Jenny - who finally knows everything - about it being best to know your own life, even the bad parts. Kassius Nelson did such a great job portraying the range of emotions Crystal goes through in this one.

Esther! She's so much fun and I love how big a part she had here. Obviously, she's terrible and her downfall was very satisfying, but I just enjoy having her on screen so I will be sad if there's another series and she's not in it. Her showdown with Crystal was good, and I loved the neat twist that it's Lilith herself who brings her down. Although they don't explicitly say it, I like the detail that it's a "harmless memory", but this is still an image of Lilith and she can be contacted through any image of her.

I also really loved resolution with the higher authority from the afterlife. I reckon the Night Nurse will come round, since she did in fact come to like them before they (well, Niko) got one over on her in the last episode. I wonder how this will affect the jobs they take on now, as they'll presumably have an incentive to investigate cases more likely to lead to ghosts moving on.

Now, Niko. I love her so much. Her and Edwin's friendship is one of my favourite things about the whole show, and yet again I loved their little rooftop talk. The way her death happened feels simultaneously quite cruel and ineffective. In that, I was in a weird limbo where I didn't get emotional over her death because I knew she had that charm, but was worried it was going to just end without confirmation that the charm had done anything, especially since the sprites were gone. Mick's line about the good you do coming around being said by the lady from the afterlife gave me hope and, indeed, we did get that final shot, but I'm left feeling frustrated more than anything.

What does it mean for her to have survived? Her body is being shipped back to Japan. Will she be a ghost? Fully alive again? Something else entirely? Will she be able to keep living her life, maybe finishing school and finally talk to her mother? Or will she be like the dead boys, only able to communicate with particular people and otherwise barred from normal life? I know these are questions we are meant to ponder through the medium of the cliffhanger, but again it's this weird limbo of sadness. It doesn't feel emotionally satisfying.

Ah well, apart from a couple of bumps along the way, I've really enjoyed this show. I've streamed it a couple of times through while doing other things as well, which I hate that I feel the need to do, but we can only hope that it will get a second series. I have no faith in Netflix that it will get renewed, so I'm prepared for disappointment, but I will definitely be very sad if my pessimism turns out to be accurate.

Small things

Crystal had literally lost her marbles.

I'm still iffy on the unrequited love confession between Edwin and Charles, so I don't know what I think about Edwin saying it's made them better friends than before.

I loved Edwin's farewell conversation and cheek kiss with the Cat King.

Monty got to help them in their mission! Now where is he?

[fandomandangstlover]

CW : ghost trick spoilers, brief unreality(?), suicide.

Predetermined Fates, Mandela Catalogue x Ghost Trick crossover

so ah had an idea,, ..

- Gabriel sent in a cat alternate & a spy alternate into wherever the fuck Ghost Trick takes place in to scout out the area. where everything is, who the alternates can get rid of without suspicion, etc etc.

how did the false angel send in the fellas? well, by a very fucked mentor of course :]

- the "cat" landed not too far from the park, in which a piece of said mentor went through some poor man in red's heart & "killing" him. it went to the park because of the commotion & found the man in red.

- the man in red was transformed. he was an alternate, or at least a subcategory of it. he didn't know, so he just thought that the mentor's radiation fucked him up. which, it did.

- it stayed with the man because of the radiation. so the man in red's spirit went into the cat, it gladly let the former human in. the man didn't remember much at the time, so he went along with his new friend. remembering the familiar buildings & letting the "cat" know.

- the "cat" continues to scout out the new place it's in.

- when the man in red found out who he is, the canon stuff still happens. he still found his body, took it back, & bought the "cat" with him. since the man in red was basically an alternate, an unaware one at least, the "cat" didn't mind.

"cat" found that it liked its new friend.

- the "cat" still sent information to Gabriel. & so Gabriel had enough information to send in the alternates. which happens around the time the game happens.

- everything in canon happens from here, till when the game happens. the man found his wife gone. he is isolated. the "cat" is his only company. he is angry at the ones who wronged him.

- when the "cat" was shot, its body recovered, the radiation took it too. when the man in red gets shot, he went into the "cat's" vessel & left his own behind. the "cat" was happy.

- it asked if it could try. the man in red asked what did it mean. the "cat" asked if it could use the man in red's vessel. the man in red chuckled, not believing it was able to do so, before saying no.

- the "cat" was okay with that. so it asked if the man in red needed a new body. the man asked what did it mean.

- the "cat" turned.

- the "cat" was now the man in red.

- the "cat" is now next to the man in red.

- it asked the man if he liked its little trick.

- the man felt. something.

- the "cat" said to the man that he didn't need to go to that useless organization. he just needed to come with it, & have a wonderful life.

- the man thought. the man felt. the man wondered what he became. the man agreed to come with the "cat."

- the "cat" will gladly teach the man the ways of its kind. but first, the man didn't want that girl to die. so it should fix that. the man in red doesn't mind the "cat" taking his face for a bit.

- whispering the truth into the hitman's ears came naturally. oh how he tumble.

- hm.. they'll need to do something about the police. that's fine. the "cat" has a plan.

they just needed a case to get the best detectives out of the way. & so the alternates planned.

- the spy alternate was "ray". it's here to work with the radiation, with the powers of the dead. it helps the "cat" & the man. just another accomplice. it is apart of the plan.

- & so the game happens.

- throughout the game, the alternates took the population out one by one. the cases of missing people & self-murder pile up & everything is wrong. it is slow, sure, but there's a pattern and it's disturbing.

- jowd, inspector cabanela & lynn is gonna have a TIME.

- jowd is horrified for his daughter & cabanela is stressed out of his mind. lynn is still dying a bunch & she now has the presumed ghost of the man she apparently killed helping her. the court guy is even more stressed & sissel... sissel is just trying to find out who he is. missile is a good boy trying his best also. yomiel is being himself, a bit more twisted.

- the hints of something wrong is always present. too many fingers on sissel, missile knowing more then he should, yomiel whispering things & causing the listener to turn the gun on themselves, willingly.

- the mentor being taken out of the man just lets the body die. the mentor is useless, not that the stupid organisation knows that. the radiation stays in the spirit, not the body.

- they did not go into the minutes before the vessel's death. jowd is confused, yet sissel & missile just laughed.

- the plan worked.

- they won.

- their deaths were all just collateral damage.

hopefully this made sense,, ah had. a lot of thoughts. ah want evil/unhinged sissel man.

it is midnight. a.

[ticklish-touch]

Trapped in the Backrooms: Ch 5 - Raising the Stakes

(Ragaeli x lee!Y/N

Tickling, group tickling) You and Ragaeli aren’t making enough headway in your quest, so the Nightmare proposes a different way of exploring. In your attempts at playing Backroom Roulette, you eventually come across a group of survivors, trying to brainstorm a game plan.

(Chapter Themes: “Worlds In-Between” - Rufus Rex: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z3NcdWyGUgQ “Centuries” - Fall Out Boy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oPA0z4W-kcU )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        You began to lose track of how long you'd been travelling this bizarre world. You'd adventured through four different Levels for what felt like hours. But at the very least, you didn't feel that tired. The abundance of haunting liminal spaces, and the constant threat of being pounced at any moment by the Nightmare or other entities, kept making your adrenaline go haywire. Which is exactly what Ragman needed. You knew that you more or less had to be a constant source of fear-fuel for him; a constant source of laughter and excitement. He'd told you in the past that a single mortal was enough to power him up for hours - and compounding that with him also getting his greedy hands on the other creatures here undoubtedly boosted his strength even more.        Still, it concerned you a bit that he was noticeably getting pissy. He couldn't read anyone else's mind, couldn't detect dangers in some Levels, couldn't find rifts, couldn't stop entities from turning on you at any given moment. You were both still making the best of it, though; He was having fun making it the best adventure you'd ever been on.          But he was starting to get impatient. He knew you both had a time limit. So, he proposed a different way of doing things.

        The next Level you reached was a quiet apartment with long hallways. Instead of spending a little while exploring the Level ahead of time, and instead of using the first opportunity to chase you or send an entity after you, Rags appeared to walk alongside you, back to wearing his Hot Topic outfit. He put a hand on his hip and pulled up a magic 'window,' scrolling through it like he was swiping through photos on a tablet.

        You peered over at him. "Whatcha doing?"         "Trying to find shortcuts. Getting a sneak-peek at other Levels, maybe find signs of Facelings, humans, psychics, Fae, aliens, demons... anything that could give us answers. Or more beasties that I can force answers out of, heheh."         "You sure that'll work? You said the Backrooms seem like they're trying to keep you from finding clues."         He shrugged. "I can still see most entities. Seems like anywhere that has 'em, also has some kinda higher intelligence just around the corner. Like a hidden Boss battle. And I could just start teleporting us around the world, instead of sticking to one path."         "...Are you sure we should do that? It seems like there's certain paths that we're supposed to follow."

        He shrugged. "There's not much I remember about this world, but I do know that it ain't linear, not by a long shot." He gave a wave of his hand to create an image of what looked like many, many rivers diverging into different paths. Some of them intersected and led to various different seas. Others were a dead-end. "It's more like a choose-your-own-adventure with multiple endings. And fuck knows how many levels and boring-ass oceans we'd hafta keep going through to finally reach some kind of ending that isn't, y'know, death." He summoned up a smoky-looking skull and hurled it at his map of rivers, making it burst into flame and disappear.

        "We could keep playing this damn game forever at this rate, and clearly we don't have that kinda time. We've gotta find more answers. And you, mi amigo, seem to have a knack for runnin' into people that have those answers," he gave you a pat on the back... Followed by a quick tickle to the back of your ribs.         "EEE-HEHE!" You jumped forward. “Thanks, jerk,” you shoved him playfully.        You thought over what he said, an idea coming to mind. Back at Level Zero, there was writing on the walls. 'Seek the Key', and 'Level 3999'. What if-

        "Already tried that," He answered your thoughts before you could ask. "Really only works if I actually have a visual in mind for where I'm trynna go, for one thing." He flicked his window forward, stretching into a portal. "Level 3999," he commanded. But the portal barely reacted with more than a shudder, displaying a faded, hazy image of static and computer coding. Rags put his hand up against it, only to be repelled back like someone had smacked his hand away. "See? No-go," he shrugged.         "Damn. Guess that would be too easy, huh?"

        "Yeeeup. Which is why we're gonna do things my way now~" he clapped his hands together. "SO, here's the game plan. We jump into a Level, look around a bit for someone. I'd give it ten, fifteen minutes tops. If there's zilch in that time, we poof outta here into the next Level I can find. If there happen to be some beasties along the way that I can toy with, then I will~ Hell, if there's other humans like Calamari said, I might even be able to read their minds."         He swiped backwards on his 'screen', to a place that looked like a homey little tavern with a bar. "Let's get ya some grub first. You're probably starving after all that swimming, huh?"         Your stomach answered for you, growling loudly. You clasped a hand around it. "Yeahh, sounds good to me, heh."

        The tavern was, to no surprise, very quiet, save for one Faceling bartender, and presumably also the waitress. She was very tall, and had a good amount of muscle. She could easily tussle with any miscreants or entities trying to stir trouble. Rags hopped up onto one of the barstools, planting his feet on the rungs, his gangly legs jutting out. "Just a couple passersby, my Earthling here needs some good eats." You joined him on the next barstool, and she came up to you first, firmly placing her hand on the counter.         "What're we in the mood for?"         "Uh... anything that a Wanderer could eat?” You assumed there was food here that could replicate Earth food, given what you saw in the warehouse.

           She nodded, reaching in the refrigerator next to the bar cabinets, pulling out a plate of food. A freshly-cooked plate, still piping hot. Must’ve been a hot-fridge. Either way, it looked delicious. Kind of strange, like a mish-mash of different types of food you've had on Earth. But the moment you took a bite, your mouth was very happy. "Mmmm..." You savored the first bite, but quickly dug into the rest, occasionally burning your mouth. It was probably because you were starving, but it tasted straight out of a five-star restaurant.           "Glad you like it." She turned to Rags. "And for you?"           He shrugged. "I could go for strawberry daiquiri if ya got any."

          She tapped her chin, thinking for a moment before nodding and preparing a drink.          As you ate, you noticed a few paintings decorating the walls. They depicted different figures and entities: A man in a red suit of armor, a black demonic figure with an onyx crown and bright white eyes, a court jester adorned in red and gold, a nymph woman sprouting vines on her head and body. And lastly, a figure of a tall man in a high-collared tailcoat. For some reason, this painting was totally out-of-focus; backlit and obscured so heavily that he was little more than a silhouette. He held something that looked like a large key ring.

        "Who are they?"         "Keepers of the Order," the bartender answered casually. "Deities, lesser gods, or just powerful warriors acting on their own whims. You'd be lucky to even encounter them. Some people don't even believe they exist." Her attention turned to Rags. "You, on the other hand... They might not like you being here."         Rags gulped down his daiquiri, raising an eyebrow at her comment. "Oh?" He smirked slyly.         She nodded. "The ones who fall into this world are typically always mortal. Easy prey. But I can tell just looking at you that you're a Hellraiser. You teleported in here like it was nothing."         You smiled. "Yeah, he's a Hellraiser alright. Should've seen him rallying an army in a warehouse and taking on a 1000-mile sea serpent."

        The Nightmare's smug grin slowly stretched further across his face, his eyelids drooping a little, some shorter stray strands of hair standing on end. You could tell that look meant he was getting some shitty ideas. "Sooo, there's a chance to stir the pot with some Big Boys... That oughta get us some intel for sure." He hopped off the barstool, walking over to the most roomy section of the tavern. "You wanna see me really raise Hell? Then watch this!"          He focused his energy, holding his hands out, glowing vivid red. In an intense burst of magic, his portal windows started to fill the room. Not just one, but many of them. They cycled through Level after Level at random. As they shifted, Rags gave a flick of his wrist and summoned a megaphone, pointing it in the direction of the portals and taking a huge breath...

           "HEEEYY BACKROOM BITCHES!!" His voice boomed through the megaphone, causing the portal windows to flicker and shudder. The bartender jolted, nearly dropping the glass she was cleaning, forced to cover her ears. You quickly covered yours too.

        "YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN KEEP US HERE?? LOCKED UP AND FORCED TO PERFORM YOUR USELESS STUNTS LIKE SOME CIRCUS TIGER??" He paced around, his hair acting up even more, writhing like Medusa's snakes. "WELL THIS RABID CAT HAS A HELL OF A BITE, BABY!! I'M CLAWIN' MY WAY TO THE TOP, WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!!" He cackled. "I'M COMING FOR YOU!! I'M GONNA MAKE A LAUGHING FOOL OUTTA EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!! HAHAHAAAHAHAHA-" He trailed off into wild, maniacal laughter even after he made the portals and megaphone disappear, his body crackling with arcs of magic.        You swallowed. That was... Kind of hot. But it also made you tense. Just what kind of Eldrich horror would he end up summoning from a calling card like that?       "Got that out of your system?" The bartender asked dryly.         Rags took a heavy breath and nodded, his hair and aura settling back down.         "Good. Now get out. You're disturbing the peace."          "Heheh; Yeahh yeah, we're leaving!" He patted you on the back and led you to a new portal. "Thanks for the grub! Put it on my tab~!"

        Afterwards, he started opening portals left and right. He often came across Levels that would've been impossible for you to navigate even with his help: Below-freezing tundras with harsh blizzards. Landscapes that were literally glitching in and out of existence and making your eyes ache. A dark, rainy marsh that tricked the Nightmare and suddenly cleared up to searing bright sunlit fields as if someone had flipped a light switch, scalding him and forcing him to poof you both away while he shrieked in pain. An extremely unsettling, unending 'tunnel' of Japanese spirit gates that emanated malevolent energy and nearly sent you into a panic attack just looking at it. He had to take a few minutes to calm you down from that one.          Finally, the Russian Roulette style of searching led to something helpful: A human outpost.        You stepped into a massive underground bunker, spotting tunnels, encampments, furniture, weapon supplies and crates all over the place. It looked like a shelter one would see in a zombie apocalypse. Even moreso when you saw some people in the far distance of the building walking around in Hazmat suits. But you felt a spark of hope to see that the rest of them had faces. Other humans!!          "Hey, we got another one!!" A man's voice shouted nearby, jogging up to you. He was middle-aged, Hispanic with light facial hair, looking a little rough around the edges. But he still offered you a slight smile. "Welcome to Paradise," he said sarcastically, giving you a handshake. "Glad you're in one piece. Name’s Ramon.”

        A group of five people soon followed. One had pointed ears; an elf or demon, maybe? And a lady with patches of scales lining her neck. You said your hellos and gave them your name, being guided over to some outdoor seating by a campfire, underneath a large half-pitched outdoor canopy. You went around the circle, learning their names and positions: A tough-looking, part-reptilian mercenary with a red ponytail and a pistol on her belt named Jay, Ramon the group leader with walkie-talkies and a machete on his utility belt, Cian their nonbinary African-American tech guru, Laurence with a visible trans pin on her Hazmat suit, Venali the turquoise-haired elf geared up like he was in Jumanji, and Fern, their blonde journalist and Venali’s boyfriend. They started to show you the various notes and journals they were writing about the Backrooms, and began explaining where all the supplies and housing were.           Though, before you all could get too comfortable, Ragaeli appeared in a flash of smoke right in front of everyone.          The group gasped and jumped back to their feet. Laurence yanked you back away from the monster. Fern stood in front of Venali protectively. Ramon readied his machete, and the elf started shuffling in his bag for weapons of his own.        "¡Cristo arriba, ¿qué es eso?!"         "That's not like any entity I’ve seen."

        "Whoa whoa whoa!!" You jumped in front of them and waved your arms. "Wait!! He's with me! He's not dangerous."

        They shifted from friendly to apprehensive. Ramon squinted suspiciously at you. "You sure about that? It could be mind-controlling you for all we know."         "Or you're in cahoots with the monsters out there trying to kill us."         "Or one of them in disguise."

        Ragdoll just smirked and giggled in smug amusement, hands on his hips; a contrast to your growing worry. But Jay quickly stood by your side and spoke up, raising her voice. "Guys, calm down. Remember the pact we made? We never would've made it as far as we have if we became this paranoid about every person we came across." She patted you on the shoulder. "We stick up for each other, got it? If there's signs that they're untrustworthy, we know how to defend ourselves." She gave you a smile.

        Rags poofed out of sight and re-appeared on one of the nearby benches, causing some of the group to jump in surprise. "Well in that case, I accept your warm welcome~" He snapped his fingers and summoned up a deck of cards out of one of their supply bags.         Cian hesitantly approached, putting their hands on their hips. “Okay, so... What are you?”

        “The best Nightmare you’ll ever have,” he winked, starting to play a game of Blackjack with himself, the cards floating in the air in front of him. "You've all been through the ringer, haven't ya? Nearly melting alive in a tunnel of pipes, spelunking in spider-filled caves, trudging through swamps fulla Death Rats..." He went around the circle pointing fingers at each person as he recited their memories back to them. "Damn, and a city of zombies too? Woof. Well, good on ya for sticking it out!"           All of them stared at him, dumbfounded. "...How do you know all of this?"           He tapped a finger to his temple. "Your thoughts aren't safe from me~ It's about fuckin' time, too. I can't read any minds that are native to this batshit universe."

          Fern was hurriedly scribbling down notes in his journal.           "And you guys-" Rags pointed to Laurence’s Hazmat suit. "You know an entry point to the Backrooms, it's the entire reason you're here. But it's one-way only, huh? Just like sending a Rover to another planet... One-way communication network so they can get the info they need outta you.”

          She sighed, brow furrowing, looking like Rags’ words stung to her core. She was the first of them to sit back down. "Yeah... Word of advice, don't get roped into top-secret Government research." She chuckled bitterly. "We're all told the same thing: That we're blessed to be part of a revolutionary breakthrough in interdimensional travel. That we'll be able to take care of our families for the rest of our lives with how filthy rich we'd be. That they’ll perfect their groundbreaking wormhole transportation to ensure that everyone can come and go here as they please. That they... They’ll give us easy access to hormone therapy and surgery.” Her brow furrowed. “But they don't give a rat's ass about us. They know damn well we can't go back once we cross the rift. We aren’t meant to be breaching into this dimension. It takes who it wants to take."            The others looked at her sympathetically, following suit in sitting down around their campfire. Venali scooted close to Fern, Cian and Jay sat on the floor close to the fire. Ramon patted Laurence’s shoulder.

           She cast her gaze down. "...I'm one of the lucky ones. I didn't have much going for me back at home. Wasn't remembered by a lot of folks. Figured that if I don't get rich enough to lead a campaign for equal medical treatment all over the country, then... hey, at least my last adventure would be a hell of an interesting one." She looked back up to her companions. "Then I had to go and find these guys, and they had to go and start caring about me. Guess I'm stuck with them now," she gave Ramon a playful nudge, and they laughed together.

          “Damn... Well, I’m glad you’re all okay,” you tried to offer a reassuring smile. “Though if you don’t mind me asking, why keep the Hazmat suit?”            She shrugged. “They make good protection when we go off to find resources. Cian hot-wired our radios to only be able to communicate with each other. We don’t need any no-good government lackeys spying on us anymore.”

         “Hm...” You nodded. “Well... I really think there is a way out of here. Ragman and I are doing our best to find it."           "Level 3999?" Jay responded.           Your eyes lit up in surprise. "Yeah!"            She nodded. "The 'True Ending'. It's a Level that's damn near impossible to get to, though. We don’t even know how to start looking for it.”

           “Seek the Key...” Fern scanned through his journal, with Venali resting his head on his shoulder to peek at his notes. “A Faceling told us that’s the answer. What key, though? A physical key? Metaphorical? It’s like no-one in this world can give us direct answers. Like they’re not allowed to.”          The Nightmare squinted, staring hard at the group, 'scanning' between them. "Hrrmm... So you know about that Level... That could mean we can hop around to other outposts and interrogate any humans we see 'til we get more answers," he chuckled. "But there's still something... Off." He got up to start pacing, rubbing his chin. "I can see all these different places you've been. I can see all the baddies you thwarted and skewered. I can memorize every piece of writing you’ve got about this world,” He held out a hand, summoning Fern’s journal to him, skimming through the pages in less than two seconds before snapping it shut. “But there's gaps. Blank spots, or like, skipping in a DVD." He sneered in annoyance, tossing Fern’s journal back at him. "That settles it then, this world has it out for me!!" He threw his arms up dramatically.

              Ramon snorted. "It's not just you. The Backrooms fuck with people's minds all the time."                You thought for a moment. “Maybe I could take a look?” When Fern agreed and gave you his journal, you saw just what Rags was talking about: There were odd blank spots in the middle of notes or sketches. Not like erased text, or unfinished sentences...But more like looking at something through your eyes’ blind-spots. A blur, or a blockage that made you not want to look at it for too long. “That’s so weird...”            Venali scratched behind his head as he also thought things over. "Well, maybe we could just tell you what those gaps are?"

           Rags stopped his pacing, a sly grin crossing his face. "Yeahhh, maybe you could..." He cracked his knuckles. "A good dose of adrenaline might jog your memories~"          You felt yourself starting to smile just as mischievously. Before a couple of them could ask what he meant, he snapped his fingers to lift everyone’s arms above their heads with magic bindings, lifting up their ankles arranging them in a circle, suspended above the floor. They all exclaimed.

           “Mierda, I fuckin’ KNEW it!!” Ramon shouted at you, having seen your cheeky smile appear when Rags grabbed him. “You set us up!!”            “H-Hey, come on, let’s talk about this!!” Cian looked at him nervously.

             “Relaaaax already,” the Nightmare gave deliberate pokes to Cian and Ramon’s sides, instantly getting exclaimed yelps. His smile grew wider. “I ain’t in the business of skewering folks that don’t deserve it. But I’ll show you exactly how I’ve been dealing with all the bloodthirsty critters since getting here~” He put his large hands on both of their sides...and gave off a ticklish magic burst that shot through the two of them, and clear across everyone else’s torsos like an EMP blast. The group shrieked and bucked in place, bursting into laughter, some of them nearly stumbling.              Rags visibly shivered at the sound of their laughter. “Oooohh that was nice~”            “SHIHIHIT THAT TIHIHICKLES!!” Laurence barked. Fern blushed brightly and tried to hide his face against his arm. Ramon and Jay both tried yanking away.            “Th-that’s your power?!” Jay hissed.            “Yeeees indeedy~” the Nightmare winked.            “That’s ridiculous!” Ramon scoffed. “No way in hell a little tickling is gonna keep a bunch of bloodthirsty abominations at baaAAAYY-HEHEHE!!” He was cut off by another ticklish burst. The others yelped and exclaimed with more laughter, some of their faces becoming more flushed.            “Ohh, it’s not just a little,” Rags grinned deviously. “You’ll find that I’m a very greedy bastard~ I could do this aaalll day, but I don’t have that kind of time. So lemme just interrogate you all for a little bit...” He then grasped his hand around your invisible magic tether, yanking you over to join the circle, trapping you in place as well.            "Wha- HEY!" You glared at him.            He just giggled. "Let's get started, shall we~?"

           He ignored everyone's flustered protests. His hair tendrils extended into the air and weaved their way between the group; and then, he attacked.            He knew exactly where everyone's weak spots were. Jay's scaly back, Venali's pointy ears, Cian's underarms, Fern's palms and neck, Ramon’s armpits and pudgy belly, Laurence’s neck and feet. And of course, he showed no mercy on your weaknesses. All of you answered with loud shrieks, belly laughter, whines and curses. Ramon cussed him out in Spanish, Venali devolved into his unknown native language. Some of their laughter was so goofy and contagious it made you laugh even more.

              Rags shuddered hard at the cacophony of laughter, and licked his lips. His eyes lit up with excitement, his slitted pupils dilating a little, his hair frizzing and shuddering and his aura glowing a little brighter. "Oohhh now that’s tasty~" You knew from what he'd told you that getting a group of people laughing was the equivalent of getting a whiff of cocaine. Heaven forbid he ever got a whole room of people laughing.

             He’d almost forgotten the reason he started the group attack in the first place. “SO, those memories, cough ‘em up!!” he summoned Fern’s journal over to himself. When he found a subject of interest, he flipped open the page, and used his magic to project the image in the air, large enough for everyone to see. “What about this critter?” He projected a sketch of what looked like regular Death-head moths from Earth, but with notes about how they could paralyze humans with neurotoxins.

             “I-I dohohohon’t knohohow!!” Fern whined. “I-I’ve just heheheard talk of thehehem from other people in our outpohohost!!”                “Liar,” Rags stuck out his tongue. “Arright, how about this one?” he pointed out a silhouetted figure of a man with inhumanly long limbs, a top hat, and nothing on his face but a wide, pure white smile with sharp teeth, not unlike the Nightmare’s.              “I-Ive seeheeheen him in a reflehehection befohohore!!” Laurence barely managed to speak up over her laughter. “I-I don’t remember whehehere!!”              “Hmmm, alright, that’s acceptable enough,” he giggled. “OH, what’s this place??” His interest was piqued by a large empty library, with a huge sign overhead reading ‘The End.’               “WeeEEE-HEHEHEH f-found a computer screen wihihith that imahahage!!” Jay replied, growling between her laughter, face flushed almost as bright red as her hair.          

               He continued this ‘strategy’ for a good ten minutes. Sitting cross-legged in the air, flipping through the journal, projecting Fern’s sketches of everything from strange objects, dangerous-looking entities, and bizarre Levels. Every time, it seemed as if they just couldn’t remember full details. A couple times, they even said they didn’t remember taking the notes at all.              He also knew exactly how much to dial it back with them, taking breaks when they were out of breath, never tickling in a spot for too long that would cause them panic or discomfort. They pleaded, protested, cussed him out. But never made more of an effort to break free.                Before long, you decided to be a brat. “I-I dohohohon’t knohohow, Rahahags, I th-thihihink they’re holdihihing out on us!!”                 “Y-YOU SON OF A-!!” Jay glared.                 “W-We’re nahahahat lyiiihihing!” Venali protested. “W-Wehehehe’re telling you everythiihihing we remehehember!!”

            Eventually, the Nightmare was swaying in the air and giggling, lips stretched in a dopey grin, eyelids drooping. He was literally getting laughter-drunk. Sparks leaked out from his writhing hair, his red aura glowed brighter than ever. When he finally decided everyone had enough, he lowered all of you to the floor and seats around the campfire, releasing your bonds. Everyone collapsed back onto the seats and against their bags and crates.

              Rags staggered to his feet, stomping over to the group, slouched over and walking in his janky tweeker fashion that earned him the name Ragdoll. "Mmmhehehehh, shiiiit I want mooore..." He growled and licked his lips. Everyone shivering and tensing up in a small bout of anxiousness just made him bend over more, like he was about to pounce. But then he quickly shook his head like a dog shaking off water, smacking the sides of his face. "Nooonono, time to focus!!"            "O-Okay, okay, I see now why you've been able to survive," Ramon spoke up. "Cause you're fuckin insane," he flipped the Nightmare off.            Rags giggled wildly and threw his arms up in an exaggerated shrug. "Sure I am, what's your point?"            Cian and Venali snickered to themselves. "A total horror movie monster. But, y'know, a fun one.”            Jay huffed, sitting upright. "Yeah, and you’re not much better," she glared over at you. "Egging him on like that..."            "Well, that was... Uh.. Kinda fun, in any case.." Fern cleared his throat, face still red as a beet, not making eye contact with Rags.            Laurence nodded quickly. "Quite the group therapy session, don't you think?"              Venali smiled cheekily at Fern. “Someone liiiiked it~” he playfully tickled the blonde’s sides, resulting in a squeak and batting his hands away.

             The monster giggled again. “Well, glad you enjoyed yourselves, even if I didn’t get any real answers,” he stuck his tongue out. “All that laughter just stirred up a bunch of your sappy memories, laughing it up together.” He made a mock-gagging motion.                After you caught your breath, you looked over to the powered-up nightmare, then the group, then back again... You smiled mischievously. "Hey, guys.. How d'you feel about a little revenge?"

           But Rags slowly turned his head to you. "You reeeally think ganging up on me when I have this much laughter-fuel in the tanks is a good idea~?" He held out a hand, giving off sparks so intense it was like his arm was a Tesla coil. The magic let off a cacophony of echoing high-pitched laughter. It made everyone gasp and jump back.            You swallowed. "M-maybe not, but I know you're gonna hang onto most of that energy. You need it."            He giggled and rolled his eyes. "Fiiine, you got me there." The crackling stopped and he re-absorbed the magic into his body. He stood back upright, throwing his arms open and puffing his chest out in a ‘come at me bro’ stance. “Go ahead then, if you all think you can take me on~”

             Jay and Laurence were the first ones to jump to their feet and charge him, and you followed closely behind. Jay used her strong arms to grasp one of his arms and hold it in place while she buried her other hand into one of his pits. Laurence went for the opposite side, dancing her fingers up and down his sides and ribs like a piano. And you made a beeline for his exposed midriff.              The cocky Nightmare shrieked with excited laughter, flailing in place like a wiggling fish, tail thrashing behind him. “YEEE-HEEHEHEHEHE!!”

             Once they saw how ticklish the laughter-hungry maniac was, and that he wasn’t retaliating, the others’ uncertainty made way for sly smirks. They stood to their feet and hurried over to join their friends. They held the tall Nightmare in place, attacking every inch of them they could cover. His laughter just grew louder and more wild, his huge smile showing off his bear-trap teeth and striped tongue. “GYAAA-HAHAHAHEEEHEHEHEHE!! IS TH-THAHAHAT THE BEHEHEHEST YOU ALL GOT?!” He taunted.            “We gotta go for the feet!” You hinted to the others. They nodded, and made swift work of pulling Rags down to the floor, pinning his arms and legs in place. Venali and Fern took the lead, each targeting his massive stompers. The elf scribbled skillfully under and along his toes, and Fern experimentally scritched at his soles and balls of his foot. “Tickletickletickle,” the elf cooed, giving a shy, but cheeky grin. “Man, for someone so strong, you sure can’t handle a taste of your own medicine, can ya?”

           “I mean, he’s taking it like a champ,” Jay snickered, joining you in burying her pointed nails against his trembling belly.              “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re really enjoying this,” Laurence smiled, swirling her knuckles against his hips.            “WHAHAHAHAT WAS YOUR FIHIHIHIRST CLUHUHUHUE?!” Rags retorted, shrieking and bucking all the more, his tail smacking the ground behind him.               The tail caught Cian’s interest. Out of curiosity, they grabbed it and started tickling along its length, succeeding in letting loose another cacophony of excited laughter from their target. Ramon followed suit in the experimenting, tickling the peach-fuzz stripes on his shins, making him almost yank his legs right out of Fern and Venali’s grip.

             Once again, you found yourself staring and eyeing over your monster friend’s thrashing body and handsome smiling, laughing face. Each of his hysterical belly-laughs made your stomach do somersaults of joy. Although you enjoyed succumbing to his ruthless tactics, it was cathartic seeing him get a taste of his own medicine - and reassuring to know he loved receiving the tickles just as much as inflicting them. The group looked happy, too, with genuine playful smiles on their faces; even Ramon, their grouchy jaded leader.

               After a few more minutes, he started slamming the floor with his hand, like a wrestler tapping out. Ramon recognized the gesture and waved a hand in the air. “Alright alright, let’s back off,” the others nodded and brought their tickle-attack to a stop.               “WHOO, talk about a team effort, hehehe~” Rags gave a dopey giggle. “I can take wayyy more than that, but I’m kinda on the clock,” he staggered to his feet.                Ramon rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh, sure you can.”              “No, it’s true,” you spoke up, also standing up. “He has almost limitless stamina.”              “Well, either way, that was fun~” Laurence giggled. “But I guess you two are planning on moving on ahead, huh?”              “Sure, if ya know where we should go next,” Rags ruffled her hair.             “I... think I know where you might be able to find clues,” Cian spoke up.             Jay’s brow furrowed and she quickly shook her head. “Don’t. That place is a death trap. A deliberate dead end. Ramon barely escaped in time, remember??”            “I know, but what if it’s possible?” Cian went up to both of you to explain. “If anyone has a chance of getting past the science labs, it’s you. Both of you. His powers, and your wits and bravery... You may be able to get past the gauntlet.”           "Gauntlet?" You questioned.           "Yeah. Like I said, a death trap,” Jay repeated in irritation. “A stampede of just about any entity you'd imagine."

          This piqued the nightmare's interest. "Ya don't say...?"           There he goes again, getting some sneaky ideas. "Sooo, what happens when we reach the end?"           "If you get to the end," Fern corrected. "We dunno. Probably just another Level to another hellscape."            You shrugged. "I mean, hey, I've seen my fair share of those. I can handle this too.” Your eyes lit up, and you were struck with motivation. “Hey! If we all go together, I'm sure we could get past it! You guys seem like you really know what you're doing.”

          Ramon shook his head. "Look, amigo... There isn't really any use in exploring a place that dangerous. We've got a good thing going right where we're at. Food, supplies, defenses, and each other.”           "You could do the same," Fern commented. "You and your crazy bodyguard can live here with us."           "No can do," Rags threw an arm around your shoulder. "I'm gettin' this one home one way or another."            "Why don't you come with us?" You tried to press them again. "Like I said, we're finding ways out of each Level. Rags can help out! He can neutralize threats and even persuade them to our side!"

           But all of them looked very hesitant.

          "Not sure that's a good idea." The Nightmare spoke up.           "What??" You spun to look at him. It wasn't like him to deny the chance to help people out. But you felt your stomach sink at how serious his expression had become.

           He gave a big shrug. "Look, I dunno where we're gonna end up. We're barely making it out of each Level as it is!! Sure I can keep the baddies at bay, but I'm still playing a careful balancing act of upkeeping my magic." He turned his attention back to the group. "Even if I could bring you all with me, and get a boosted energy fix from ya, there's a good chance that this world is gonna fling you every which way at any given moment. And an even bigger chance that not all of you are gonna make it out of here alive." He huffed and folded his arms, tapping a finger on his bicep. "I'm not about to risk splittin' you up or watching your buddies get killed in front of you. That'd be even more fucked up than letting you stay here."              The group nodded and sighed amongst themselves, mumbling in agreement.

          "Well, there you have it. Your magic friend says it's not safe." Ramon patted you on the shoulder. “I appreciate you wanting to help. I really do. Maybe someday we’ll get more intel, find safer Levels. But when we started settling in here, we all barely made it by the skin of our teeth. These guys... they’ve seen some shit that no-one ought to see. I can’t ask them to go back into the fray if they’re not ready for it.”                Fern nodded. “I... I can’t go back out there.” Venali took his hand and hugged him close, giving him a gentle kiss on his cheek.                You frowned, feeling a little guilty. You knew they were right... You couldn’t in good conscience push them to venture to places that triggered traumatic memories.                Cian folded their arms behind their head. “I wouldn’t mind taking up that offer, if I was on my own. But these guys need me. I’m their only means of communicating to home base when they go out to find resources.”        

                 Rags scratched under his chin. “Y’knoww...it might be possible to get you outta here if I could relay some answers to ya. At least, if the Big Bosses come running to my call. And if snitching on ‘em isn’t going to make them go after you guys. I know how it goes with most gods. Snuffing out lives like birthday candles just cause they can’t fathom a mortal outsmarting them,” he scoffed.

            “Big Bosses?” Jay raised an eyebrow.              Fern’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean...?”             “Are you... talking about the Grand Order?” Cian looked at the Nightmare in disbelief. “You called to them?? What do you mean?!”               “Well, I gotta find our way out of here somehow. If you don’t get answers after standin at your boss’s door for an hour, just throw a rock in their window, right??” Rags snickered.            “How, though?” Fern quickly started thumbing through his journal. “How did you contact them?? There’s a next to zero possibility of a Wanderer encountering one, but maybe with the help of an entity like you, it’s possible...?”

              “Weelll I didn’t directly contact them.” Rags stood out away from the encampment, holding his arms out and giving his hands a dramatic wave. A good dozen magic windows opened up in the air, shifting through imagery, just as they had done at the tavern. “I can open up a spyglass on the world and set sail towards any Level I decide on,” he summoned up a fancy brimmed hat and a spyglass, doing mock-charades of a pirate standing at the edge of a ship. “I can take a peek at just about any Level here and take a gamble on whether I wanna jump the plank or not. Could be some plain ol fish, could strike some buried gold! Or, we be swimmin’ right into the jaws of death. And that’s why I ain’t be gamblin with any of yer lives!!” He jammed a finger against your chest. “I’m already regrettin’ having to gamble with yers.” Despite his hammy pirate act, for a brief moment, you glimpsed a crease in his brow; a shift in expression from playful to apologetic.

              “Point is!!” He spun around, making the props disappear and pointing at the portals. “I kiiiinda maybe dared ‘em to come running to me,” he flashed a smug grin. “The safest way for us to have a chance of jailbreaking you all is for me to get the answers from the Top Dogs. They tell me the answer, I open up a window to as many Wanderer outposts as my magic will allow, bada-bam, now we ALL know how to bust out.” He narrowed his gaze. “...IF that works.” He pointed to Fern. “Not a damn page I skimmed in there mentioned a thing about these Upper-Fuckers. Not a thought in his mind is tellin’ me anything.”               “Wha... Really??” He skimmed his journal quickly, looking dumbfounded. “There’s... it’s not here!” He looked over to Cian. “But you know about them, don’t you??”             Cian shrugged. “I mean, kinda? I don’t remember where I heard about them, though. I think it was a tavern or something?”

                Rags rolled his eyes. “Case in point. If they’re tryin’ this hard to keep the answer from some troublemaking interloper, I’d imagine they’ll try just as hard to cover it up from their main prey. When - not if, WHEN -” he snarled for emphasis - “I get one of them to cough up what we need, they might try to go for your throats as damage control. I send that message out to many outposts and they could lead a mass slaughter. If there’s even a sliver of a chance of that happening, then forget it.”                “Hmm...” Jay folded her arms. “Well... Thanks for wanting to help, in any case. Don’t worry too much about us. You sound like you both have enough on your plate as it is.”

               Laurence could tell you were feeling crestfallen, coming up to you to take your hand. “You’ve got a real good friend at your side, you know that? Don’t ever give that up. And don’t think that moving on is giving up on us, either.” She smiled. “Just keep us in your thoughts, that’s all I can ask. And if you find another one of us guinea pigs with a working radio, give those fuckers back home Hell for me.”              You chuckled, nodding. “Damn right I will.”               Ragdoll gave a clap of his hands. “Well in that case, I’ve got one request for you lot. Don’t any of you fuckin’ dare give up. And don’t ever stop laughing~”

              After you said your goodbyes, Venali led you into one of the alleyways outside of the building, opening an industrial metal door in the adjacent wall. “The portal to the laboratory is at the end of this hallway.” He frowned. “You’re certain you’re ready to go through with this?”             You nodded. “We have to try.”            "We'll take our chances," Rags plopped an elbow down on your shoulder again. "A science lab sounds pretty interesting... And if it's true that there's that many entities, my announcement might've reached them too,” he grinned at you knowingly. “We could even rally a little army~"

               Rags walked next to you down the hall. You glanced up at him with a knowing grin. “You let everyone go after you you to show them they could trust you, didn’t you?” you gave him a nudge. “I know how you work.”                He glared and let out a huff, grabbing at your stomach to squeeze repeatedly. “Shaddup, I just wanted ‘em to have fun too,” he stuck out his tongue.              “AAH-HAHAHA!!” You jumped. “Yeah right!!” you grabbed at his side in response, releasing a hyena yelp from him. “You’re totally not a secret softie.”

         You half expected Ragman to race you or chase you down the hallway in retaliation for calling him out. But he still walked alongside you, arms folded behind his head, acting strangely calm. It became apparent after a couple minutes of walking that it was because he could sense your stewing thoughts. You felt sorry for all those people... How many other people from Earth - or even other worlds - were trapped here? Forced to live in shelters straight out of Fallout? You were lucky you had a god on your side. At least there was some chance of indirectly helping them, if the Nightmare’s idea worked. Even if he couldn't save all of them, maybe both of you could help make a difference to at least one of them...

             Ragdoll patted you on the head. "Believe me... If I could, I would. I'd lead a mass exodus outta here." For once, he became very contemplative. "But you can't save everyone. Not on Earth, not in Limbo, not on other planets or dimensions. Sure, you gotta stick up for your buddies, and most people don't wanna look at some sad sack on the side of the road and just leave them there. But other times, you just need to focus on you, y'know?"             "Yeah..." You sighed. You knew he had a point; that it would probably be a pretty big gamble to take them along. But still... You wish they would've taken up your offer to help. It was times like this that you were reminded the Nightmare wasn't just a laughter-hungry nutcase.

           Though it wouldn’t be long before the madness continued.            Opening the door at the end of the hall, you saw that there was indeed a huge laboratory on the inside.                "Alley-oop!" Rags gave you a shove into the doorway before poofing out of view.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five (current) Chapter Six

Footnotes:

Bunker floor BG: 

So, this is the first chapter that isn’t directly based off of specific Backrooms levels or entities. It kind of just vaguely mentions the aesthetic of some of the Levels I came across while reading the Wiki.

This chapter also wasn’t even one that I’d originally planned. It was going to go from Rags and Y/N doing random level-hopping directly into the Research lab where the next chapter takes place, but in the process, the realization hit me “What if they come across other humans? There’s human outposts everywhere in the backrooms”. So it only made sense to have them encounter a group of survivors. I had fun coming up with some other human(oid) characters and fleshing them out. I will say right now that I do not plan on having a complete character/story arc for them. There won’t be any tragic deaths, there won’t be any tie-ins to the final conflict. However, this may not be the last we see of them!

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

time for some actual blogging bc why not

So anyway, I read that gay Chinese zombie book. I have not read an actual book since forever and was doomed, when originally writing this, to wait out the arrival of the rest of the series that I've promptly ordered, and you know what? Let's write a review is what.

For the dry tl;dr we are talking about a strong 8.5 for the first volume, and even that is because of display A, me not being interested in 80% of the school flashback chapter, and display B, the kajillions of similar names that get spiced up with the 2-4 fancy titles of the big shots which get used interchangeably as per demand. Not my demands, but probably good manners' which I'm a stranger to. The short bios of people in the front are a blessing if you want to follow who's who early on; obviously, I didn't savor it as if it was some holy scripture, but for the first chapter you also don't even need it.

Speaking of content, this was not something I expected with my main previous information source being random osmosis via internet. In fact, all I knew is that a main character comes back from the dead, there's other dead people, everyone is wearing pretty much traditional clothes and it's allegedly some good gay shit.

But this wasn't much of a preparation. See, that info was out of context mumbo-jumbo, much like what I'm trying to tap together right now to avoid spoilers. This isn't a fantasyfied period piece or a love story despite one of the main characters working a whole ass pine plantation. (Wonder how long it will take Wei Wuxian till the yuan drops, really. Current gayness rating is 3/10 btw as apart from his body having belonged to an outed twenty-something year old and him playing it up for either giggles or strategy, there's not much else to it.) What I'm trying to say is that man, when I bought the paperback seeing it was 50% off for roughly 5 'Murrican bucks I certainly wasn't expecting a supernatural action detective story with an enjoyable cast and a cliffhanger I wanted to punch a wall over. Color me intrigued. But there's another point I'd like to make.

The point being that the book is funny as hell. Of course this doesn't say much as my sense of humor is pretty niche, but I digress.

Wei Wuxian is a feral gremlin. A very professional and kind-hearted one, but a menace nonetheless. The number of times he's willingly done something irresponsible or stupid followed by regret .5 seconds later is on par with the number typos I've found in my translation. Which isn't a whole whole lot, but it's weird it happened as many times as it did. I'd ask how he's still alive, but, y'know…

The straight man to his antics (lol), Lan Wangji, is usually as interesting as a freshly whitened wall but when he isn't he's amazing. Also has the best scene in the whole volume, hands down. I was reassured there's more of the same to come and I'm filled with giddy anticipation because it had me thriving.

The Lan boys are sweethearts, I hope they'll stick around. They have their own little shenanigans and even if you aren't big on them you'll still look forward to their unexpected appearances once you realize that they are an indicator of shit hitting the whirling device and whipping up a whole entire storm in the very foreseeable future.

Wuxian's uh… nephew? I think it's his nephew. (He's called Jin Ling. I recognize it already, but haven't memorized it yet.) He is very punchable but obviously also a kid and I'm starting to worry for him, man. Either way, he has a demonic hellhound. Name's Fairy. Nuff said.

Then this new Xiao dude is fascinating me for a number of reasons, but even if he wasn't he had the funniest line in the book about 5 pages before things became wild and I was slapped across space-time and jail bars on the face with a to be continued.

The fact that this is a longer story that allows you to dwell on and theorize about stuff is also something I greatly appreciate as a One Piece and Homestuck fan. Theory crafting for an ongoing series is half of the fun, really!! (Ok, it's not ongoing, but I'm forced to treat it as such.) How will we get rid of Wen Ning's shackles? What even is he like when conscious? How long will it take for people other than Wei Wuxian's contemporaries to realize who he is? Will he drop the act himself seeing it's only a question of time until the info spreads? How close is Jin Ling to realizing that his uncle was right? Will he turn on Wuxian entirely or is he invested enough to stick around? Will he turn out to be a respectable cultivator later or be sacrificed for an especially tragic plot twist? What about Wei Wuxian's chances of survival in his current position? For that matter, will all the Lan boys live till the very end? Was the blind man pulling the strings all along or was he tricked into the murder and turned to the forbidden arts in desperation?? Are we fighting for our very lives or merely being tested right now?! Either way, the overpowered zombie talisman is nearby, the plot thickens!!!

So much to think about, I love it!

And although the whys and hows of the logistics are a total question mark, since about halfway through the volume, I have been about 80% convinced of who the unalive person we're on a quest to reassemble is. It's low-key worrying for a number of reasons, but whatever. But this is just a theory. A literary theory.

…

The next volumes can't arrive soon enough, man. (Before I posted this, they already did. Brb I need to rehydrate.)

[waitimcomingtoo]

Give Yourself a Try

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers

Synopsis: you and Peter hate each other, which becomes a problem when you’re given a group project

Part two and three

Masterlist

“Good morning Ned.” You kindly greeted as you took your seat in front of Peter in your first period physics class.

“Morning Y/n.” Ned said back, gearing up for what he knew was coming.

“I really like your makeup today, Y/n.” Peter smiled as he leaned forward in his seat. “Is it hard balancing your schoolwork with your job at the circus?”

“Not at all.” You smiled sweetly at him as you turned around. “I could get you a job there if you’d like. We’ve been needing something small to feed to the lions between shows. You’d be perfect.”

“Small? Darling, you must be mistaken.” Peter kept a sickly sweet grin on. “I’m bigger than your boyfriend of the week over there.”

“Silly goose.” You scrunched your nose at him. “Harry Osborn is not my boyfriend. And just so you know, steroids are really bad for you. I’m worried about your well being.”

“I’m not on steroids.” Peter hissed, dropping the act. “Stop trying to start that rumor.”

“Why not?” You shot back. “You had no trouble spreading the rumor that I was the one who killed Herbie the hamster when we all know it was you who left the door open after cleaning his cage.”

“Are you kidding me? That was fifth grade.” He whispered harshly.

“I will never forget it.” You snapped back.

“Ahem.” The teacher cleared her throat as she stared at you and Peter with an annoyed expression. This was an everyday occurrence in her class, and any other class you had with Peter. You hated each other and everyone knew it. You and Peter stopped arguing and slumped in your seats, giving each other one last look of disdain.

“Instead of a final exam this semester, I’ll be giving you a final project.” The teacher continued. “You’ll be working with one other student.”

“Nice. We can finally present our work on quantum physics.” Peter excitedly high fived Ned.

“Can you guys reschedule your virgin convention for later?” You asked seriously. “I’m trying to listen.”

“Because of the disappointing grades on the last project, I will be assigning your partners.” The teacher went on.

“Don’t worry.” Peter whispered to Ned again. “We could still end up together. We got an A last time so she knows we work well together.”

“We got an A last time.” You mimicked his voice and moved your hand like a puppet.

“Yeah. An A.” Peter said as he leaned forward in his seat. “You know, like your bra size.”

“What did you just say to me?” You snapped as you whipped around. He had on his infamous shit eating grin that you hated.

“Young man, can you please stop interrupting our conversation?” He said as he held up a hand. Your jaw dropped at the insult, face growing warm with anger. You decide not to give him the satisfaction of an insult exchange and turned around in your seat. Your teacher began to list off the partners for the projects.

“Leeds, Stacy.” She called out. “You’ll be working together.”

“Sorry, man. But also, not sorry man.” Ness frown quickly turned into a smile. “Gwen, over here!”

“Aw.” You snickered as you turned around on your chair. “I feel bad for whoever gets stuck with you now. That poor, unfortunate soul.”

“Parker. L/n. You’ll be working together.”

“What?” You and Peter screamed in unison. You gave each other an angry look before looking at your teacher in protest.

“You two are always holding up my class and I’m tired of it.” She held up a hand. “This project will teach you how to finally get along and stop disrupting me while I teach.”

“Mrs. Avery, with all due respect, I can feel myself getting more disruptive already.” You told her.

“I think that’s your STD.” Peter mumbled.

“You two need to learn how to be professional and amicable.” She ignored your protest. “You won’t always like your peers. But you will always have to collaborate with them at some point.”

“I understand that.” You assured her. “But if we do this project together, my fist is going to collaborate with Peters face.”

“That’s a threat.” Peter piped up. “I’d like to file a report.”

“And I’d like to take that report and shove it up your-“

“Enough.” Mrs. Avery cut you off. “You will be working together and that is final.”

You both shrunk in your seats, fuming with anger over the teachers decision. You didn’t cause any more disruptions throughout the class and quickly left once the bell rang.

Peter saw you at your locker, which was coincidentally next to his locker, spraying some perfume on.

“Darling!” Peter exclaimed as he stood next to you. “So good to see you! You know how much I love when you hog all the locker space and make the entire hallways smell like perfume.”

“Why, thank you.” You touched your hand to your heart. “As I’m sure you know, some of us prefer to smell like things other than Neosporin and baby powder. After all, that’s your signature scent and I’d just hate to step on your toes.”

“I didn’t know. Thank you for opening your gigantic mouth and telling me!” Peter said through a toothy grin.

“Oh, Peter.” You laughed airily. “You’re very welcome, you sad sack of shit.”

“Classy.” Peter faked a smile as he opened his locker. “Do you want to come over to my house after school to work on the project? I live walking distance from here.”

“What? No.” You scoffed. “You’re not getting me to a secondary location. We’ll work in the library.”

“Actually, we won’t, because it’s closed for maintenance.” He replied with a tight smile.

“I wish you were closed for maintenance.” Yoh grumbled as you zipped up your bag.

“Hilarious.” He fake laughed loudly. “Are you coming over or not?”

“Not.” You said in disgust. “I don’t know you or your parents. You might try to kill me as a part of some Parker family cult ritual.”

“My parents are dead.” He told you, unamused. “It’s just me and my aunt.”

“Is your aunt a cult leader?” You asked.

“No.” He groaned.

“Cult member?”

“No. All she does is cheat at cross world puzzles and shop at Whole Foods.” He said.

“So you lied.” You slammed your locker and looked at him. “She’s in the Whole Foods cult.”

“Can you try not to be difficult for two minutes, please? We need to get this project done.”

“Jokes on you, Parker.” You folded your arms. “Difficult is my lowest setting.”

“Ooo. Scary.” He mocked you. “What’s your highest? Because I’m pretty sure I saw it last Tuesday when your backpack got stuck on the door handle and you decided to blame me.”

“I know that was your fault. And I go from difficult to hooligan to the step mom from Parent Trap.” You shrugged.

“And they said women aren’t funny.” Peter replied as he slapped his knee. You raised an eyebrow at him, judging him for his material.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“You’re gonna be sorry.” You told him. “Where do you live again?”

“Waking distance from here. I said that less than five minutes ago.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“Well I didn’t hear that because I tune you out when you speak. You know, like most people do.” You said sweetly.

“Wow, you’re so funny.” Peter said sarcastically. “If I meet you here at the end of the day, will you come home with me?”

“Fine.” You huffed. “I’ll go home with you. But if I start detecting any cult shit going on, I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me.” He scoffed. “I’ll see you later.”

~

“Are you ready to go?” Peter asked after the last bell had rang. You shouldered your backpack and shut your locker, feeling unusually anxious around him. You could deal with Peter for 40 minutes at a time when all you did was trade insults. Something about walking to his home together and spending time alone knocked the confidence right out of you.

“I’m ready.” You nodded.

“What, no insult?” He asked. “No mocking of my voice?”

“We were assigned each other as partners so we could learn to be civil, right?” You shrugged. “I guess I’m just mature enough to give it a try.”

“There she is.” Peter smiled as you began to walk in the direction of his apartment. “There’s my girl.”

You looked to the side when you heard him say this, unsure of how it made you feel. You often called each other pet names ironically, but this felt different. There was a change in the dynamic between the two of you and it was clouding your judgment.

You let Peter do all the talking as you walked home, thankful that he lived so close to the school. He spewed out ideas for the project the entire elevator ride up and didn’t stop until you were standing outside his bedroom door.

Peter stopped talking and opened the door, gesturing for you to go inside. You made a face at him before walking, staying in one spot as he shut the door and sat down. You were frozen as you looked around his room, not liking how human it made him. He had notes from classes you didn’t have with him strewn around and an open first aid kit on his desk.

“You can sit.” He chuckled when he noticed how stiff you were.

“I’m scared to.” You admitted.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly. Something about sitting on this boys bed with him seemed finalizing, like you’d be opening a door you couldn’t close.

“Just sit down.” He repeated. “I didn’t rig the place with boobytraps, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s what someone who rigged the place with booby traps would say.” You replied as you took a hesitant seat on his bed.

“There. Isnt that nice?” He asked sarcastically.

“No.” You said immediately. “Am I the first girl to ever sit on your bed?”

“Psh. No.”

“I’ll take that as a yes ma’am.” You mumbled.

“Whatever.” He replied. “What do you want to do the project on?”

“How about micropenises?” You suggested. “You won’t even have to do any research.”

“Haha. So funny.” He rolled his eyes. “You are so annoying it’s actually impressive.”

“Please.” You laughed. “You so have a crush on me.”

“What?” His entire face went red. “No I don’t.”

“No I don’t.” You mimicked his voice. “Yes you do. That’s why you’re up my ass all the time.”

“That makes no sense.” He scoffed.

“It makes total sense.” You insisted. “You know I’ll never like you back, so you made me hate you. That way, you still get to talk to me all the time. Genius, really. I applaud you.”

“That’s a nice little fantasy you’ve created for yourself. Is that what you tell yourself to help you fall asleep?” He teased you.

“Yep.” You smiled brightly. “Right after I finger blast myself to the thought of you in your Catholic schoolboy sweaters.”

“Oh my God.” His cheeks turned even redder at your inappropriate joke.

“And they said women aren’t funny.” You used his words from earlier.

“They were right.” He said, making you laugh.

“God, I love it when you talk down to me.” You fanned yourself. “Can you tell me how to change a tire?”

Peter began to laugh as well, looking at you as you both laughed. You quickly stopped laughing when you realized you just gave him a genuine smile and looked away.

“Do you want to do the project on tensile strength?” You suggested to break the tension. “I know you’re weirdly into that.”

“How’d you know?” He wondered.

“You almost popped a boner when we talked about in last month.” You teased him. “It’s just rope, dude.”

“It’s not just rope. It’s the force-“

“-the force required to pull something until it breaks. I know.” You finished his sentence. “I’m smart too, you know.”

“Oh.” He was dumbfounded that you knew something he was interested in. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Women use brain sometime. Woman say smart thing like man.”

Peter laughed again, realizing you were actually kind of funny when you wanted to be.

“I’m not a misogynist, you know.” Peter said after a beat. “You don’t have to make jokes like that. I may not like you, but I respect you.”

“You respect me?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

“I respect all women. The strongest person I know is my Aunt. Plus, I’ve still never met anyone who was as smart as my mom. I wouldn’t be half the man I was if it weren’t for the women who raised me.” He shrugged. “But it would be ignorant and naive of me to only respect woman who are related to me in some way. So I respect all of them unless they give me a reason not to.”

“Have I given you a reason not to?” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Not yet.” He chuckled to himself. “You’re annoying, but you’re brilliant. I know you would never admit this, but we’re basically the same person. You’re just more extroverted so you have more friends and popularity. And you’re smart but you don’t make that your whole personality, so it impresses more people when you let your intelligence show.”

Your body language shifted when you realized he was actually a nice guy. He clearly paid attention to you and was impressed by what he saw. You didn’t say anything, so Peter kept going.

“People lean in to listen when you start speaking instead of tuning you out.” He brought up your insult from earlier, and you felt bad. You didn’t realize he admired you in any way and you felt guilty for always teasing him. Peter’s kept his eyes down, playing with his fingers to distract himself.

“You’re…you’re kind of every thing I wanted to be.” He said quietly. You smiled softly at him, but he didn’t see it. It was the first time you had a nice moment with Peter, and you didn’t hate it. You could tell he was beginning to panic for sharing so much, so you reached forward and tilted his chin up to look at you. His wide eyes met yours and you gave him a small smile.

“How did your parents die?” You asked quietly, immediately ruining the moment.

“Damn.” Peter pulled away with a shocked laugh. “When was your first period?”

“All right. I get your point.” You rolled your eyes. “That was a little abrupt.”

“You’re telling me.” He teased. You sat in silence for a moment, neither of you sure where to go from there. You knew Peter was still processing you touching his face, so you talked first.

“My parents are dead too.” You said without looking up at him.

“They are?” He asked, scooting a little closer to you on the bed.

“Yeah.” You looked up and gave him a sad smile. “But if you think we’re gonna take a turn and fall in love because we have similar trauma, you’re wrong. I can’t stand orphans.”

“But you’re an orphan.” He reminded you.

“And?”

“Never mind.” He shook his head. “I have a feeling I won’t be getting through to you.”

“Probably not.” You agreed. “Tell me more, though. Did your parents die doing something cool?”

“I don’t really know.” He shrugged. “It was a plane crash. That’s all I’ve been told.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Sounds lame.”

“What?”

“A plane crash?” You raised your eyebrow. “That’s so boring. Yawn.”

“Excuse me?” He laughed in shock again. “Fine. How did your parents die?”

“Firefighters.” You said proudly. “Died saving three children.”

“Wow.” Peter sat back, stumped.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I was one of them.”

“Seriously?” His eyes widened as he fought the urge to hold your hand.

“No. I’m fucking with you.” You began to laugh as he let out a groan.

“Why would you do that to me?” He whined. “You had me, for a minute there.”

“What can I say? I’m an actor.” You flipped your hair ostentatiously.

“What actually happened?” He wondered. You stopped smiling and bit your bottom lip.

“Drunk driver.” You told him. He didn’t fight the urge this time and reached over to take your hand in his. You stared at your interlocked hands, wondering if you should pull away or not. On the one hand, he was your enemy. But that didn’t make his warmth any less inviting.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “That must have been really hard on you.”

“You know the feeling, don’t you?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I do.” He nodded. “And I know how much it sucked to not have someone who knew how it felt. You don’t have to feel that way anymore. Neither of us do.”

You opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it, not wanting to ruin the moment again. The guy holding your hand was not the same guy who sat behind you in physics. This guy was someone you actually liked.

“I might have misjudged you, Peter Parker.” You laughed shyly. “You might not be as unbearable as I remembered.”

“And you might not be the frigid bitch I thought you were.” He matched your tone.

“Watch it.” You warned.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“You were right.” You said after a beat. “We are pretty much the same person. I never realized that before.”

“Maybe that’s why we don’t get along.” He shrugged, rubbing soft circles into your hand.

“I’d be willing to give it a try, if you were.” You said sheepishly. “Who knows? I might just like you.”

“You want to give this a try?” He asked, eyes lighting up in excitement.

“Why not?” You shrugged. “What do I have to lose?”

“Okay.” He nodded eagerly. “Then we’ll try.”

“Cool.” You smiled.

“Cool.” He said before leaning in for a kiss. Your eyes widened as his fluttered shut, making you realize you were on different pages. His lips made contact with yours for a few seconds before you pushed him off.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked as you covered your mouth with your hand.

“Kissing you?” He asked in confusion as hurt flashed in his eyes.

“Why the hell would you do that?” You exclaimed, still in shock. You got off the bed and backed away from him, trying to process what just happened.

“You said we were giving it a try!” He was shouting now too, but not out of anger. “I thought we were finally admitting that we like each other.”

“I meant giving friendship a try! I never said anything about a relationship.” You shouted. You quieted down when you saw the upset look on his face. “You... you like me?”

“I thought it was obvious.” He said quietly. “I-I thought you knew. You said it before and I just…I thought you knew.”

“Peter, I was joking when I said all that stuff.” You calmed down and sat back on his bed. “I didn’t actually think you liked me.”

“Oh.” He blinked a few times before looking down. “I…I do.”

“Peter, I’m sorry.” You reached for his hand again but his withdrew it.

“No, it’s my fault.” He shook his head and got off the bed. “I misunderstood the situation.”

“Peter, wait.” You caught him by the wrists and pulled him back down to the bed. He sat down again but looked anywhere but at you. You could see that his eyes were glassy so you put a hand on his face.

“You were right.” His voice wavered. “I did like you and I did think you’d never like me back. That’s why I always tease you. I just wanted you to talk to me.”

“Pete.” You whispered, rubbing his cheekbone with your thumb.

“I’m sorry. I really don’t want to be here right now. I’ll email you my part of the project and-“

You cut him off by wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. You both had your eyes closed this time and it lasted much longer. Your lips moved against his slowly and you could feel how inexperienced he was. Even so, it was perfect. You pulled away after a minute and looked into his eyes, feeling better now that there were no traces of sadness in them.

“You kissed me.” He said, dumbfounded.

“I can’t know I don’t like you back if I never give you a chance.” You shrugged as you withdrew your hand from his face.

“Well what did you decide?” He asked curiously. You puckered your lips and tilted your head, staring at him as if you were making a decision.

“I still think you’re super annoying.” You concluded.

“Okay.” Peter nodded.

“But it’s an annoying I’m willing to put up with.” You decided as you slipped your hand back into his. Peter broke out into a smile and nodded again.

“Okay.”

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[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 16) - Drowning

Summary: The reader’s night goes from bad to awful fast but thankfully Jensen shows up at the last second to stop things from getting any worse. But the guilt the reader feels over trying to end things with Jensen to protect him starts to become too much...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,600ish

Warnings: language, being drunk, minor violence, scary situations, angst, fighting, fluff, offscreen death of minor character, anxiety, panic attack, minor injury

A/N: This chapter is a whirlwind! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

It was a close to an hour later and you were halfway through a bottle of bourbon, laying on the back porch of your mom’s house, staring at the rafters and debating finishing off the whole thing.

“Y/N?” you heard. Your skin crawled as you sat up, spotting your father at the other end of the wrap around. “Are you drunk?”

“This would be an appropriate time to tell you that yes, I am and I also have this,” you said, reaching behind your and picking up a hunting rifle. “I might be plastered but I think that’ll only improve my aim. I’ll be nice and shoot for your balls first.”

“You got so much wrong about me kid.”

You fired a shot near his feet and he held up his hands.

“Why don’t you go jump off a bridge or some shit,” you said.

“Y/N.”

You pulled the trigger as he took a step forward and he jumped when it hit the window nearby. You pulled again but it just clicked as he walked closer. 

“Your new momma never taught you that kind of rifle only has two shots, did she,” he said. You tried to stand but got way too dizzy and fell down. 

“Well I can still tear you apart with my teeth,” you said. 

“You’re drunk and judging by your face, very upset. What happened to that boy you were with? I didn’t see him when I looked around.”

“Touch me and that boy will rip your head off.”

“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he said, stepping far too close for your liking. You swung the rifle at him but he caught it and kicked the bottle away before you could get at it. “All grown up. Probably enjoy it now.”

You crawled back as far as you could, eyes darting behind him when you saw movement. You barely caught the brown hair and green eyes before your father was face first on the porch. You tried to stand but he yanked on your ankle and pulled you down hard. It took a long time to peel open your eyes again, your father now at Jensen’s feet. Jensen pushed down on his back while he talked on the phone to someone and it didn’t take long to hear sirens in the distance.

“For the record,” said Jensen as he walked over to you and crouched down, his belt around your father’s wrists, “I didn’t believe you for a second. Oh and you’re a dumbass but you’re my dumbass. Forever. Got it?”

“I couldn’t…” you trailed off. He nodded and took off his flannel, wrapping it over your shoulders. “I knew he would do something and I couldn’t have him near the kids or know they exist. I couldn’t-”

“I know, honey,” he said. “But don’t you dare ever do anything like that again.”

You put your head down sniffled, dizzy still as he rubbed your back before going back to watching your dad.

It took an hour or so before you could go home and you were sober enough to stand on your own. 

“Can I ask why you made the executive decision that you did?” asked Jensen, holding your arm loosely as you got into his car to head back.

“Because I’m stupid,” you said dryly from the passenger seat as he turned on his SUV.

“I mean more so why didn’t you come to me if you were scared? Why make up a lie?”

“You did let me go. You must have believed me at least for a few seconds,” you said.

“No, I actually didn’t.”

“You let me go.”

He was quiet until you got close to the brewery, Jensen pulling off onto the plot of land he owned next to it. You leaned your head against the cold window and he turned off the engine.

“This whole, tired, don’t talk to me attitude right now? Been there. Lived it. I know it’s bullshit.”

“You let me leave so you did believe me so-” you said, Jensen pressing a finger to your lips. 

“I am certain of very few things and you are one of them. I let you go so I could figure out what scared you so badly you’d lie, to me. There’s only one thing I can think of so before you even had a foot out of that house, I was calling people and I got put on with Detective Finn who worked your case as a kid and I find out that dick for brains sack of shit just moved practically down the street from us. It does not take a genius to put the pieces together.”

“Fine! I did it in some stupid attempt to protect you,” you said. You glared at him and he shook his head. “What?”

“I’m not gonna get mad at you.” You put your head back on the window and stared out to the dark trees, sniffling some. “Why do you want me to be angry with you?”

“Uh because I didn’t forget to turn on the washing machine or leave on a light. I lied. I lied so big that-”

“You lied to protect your family from a monster. Do I wish you had told me? Yes. But I fuck up so much and you’ve never once been angry with me for making a mistake and I’ll never be angry with you for making one either. I know you want me to be angry with you, feel like you should be punished for what you imagine is hurting me. But you didn’t hurt me, Y/N. You didn’t and I know you get that because so many times you’ve been on the other side of this and I know you’ve never once thought, oh yeah Jensen’s a piece of shit, let him really have it. No. Just no. So I’m not getting mad at you and I don’t know what to fucking say to make you feel better like you always do me and I’m so sorry he got so close to hurting you again. But I’m really good at fighting monsters in this family. So please next time, I don’t care if you’re scared of the bug on the wall or you think someone’s outside the house or what it is. If you’re scared, tell me and I’ll do my best to make it go away, I promise.”

“What do you do when you want to hate yourself for being an idiot?” you asked quietly. You heard him shift in his seat and you shut your eyes, the sound of a door opening and then another. Strong arms wrapped around you and you buried your face in his chest.

“I try to treat myself as kindly as she does. She would never hate me and she hates when I’m in pain. I see it all over her face. So I try to cut myself some slack and ask myself if she would hate me and when I realize no, I’m forced to forgive myself and it normally takes a few hours but it works pretty good. A lot of hugs and cuddling don’t hurt either.”

“Thank you for stopping him.”

“Don’t.”

“Thank you. I owe you so, so much.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing. We got each other’s backs and that’s all there is to it. I’m just sad I missed you trying to shoot his dick off.”

“How did you know where to find me?”

“Find my iPhone. Also I figured that was a good place to check,” he said. “I would have been here sooner if Jared didn’t drive like a tortoise over to the house to watch the kids.”

“I’m sorry I scared you...and you had to do that tonight.”

“Oh punching your father was a personal highlight for me. Trust me,” he said. He stroked your cheek and you turned into the touch, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re safe.”

“He’s going to get out on bail and-”

“And we have a very good lawyer. Oh, and I know the mayor so fuck his ass, he’s not getting bail.”

You buried your face once again and he put a finger under your chin, lifting it up.

“You’re still scared.”

“He’s gonna get arrested for what, trespassing? Attempted assault? I was drunk and shot at him. He can spin it. He can spin it and be out on the street like that.”

“I’m going to ask the lawyer to do something else, something that maybe can take care of that problem.”

“What?” 

“Once a piece of shit, always a piece of shit. He’s been gone for fifteen years. I have this bad feeling you weren’t the only one. Or even before that.”

“Or maybe he just hates me.”

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m gonna take care of it.”

“Jensen, I know you don’t have to worry about the money but it might still not be enough.”

“It’s enough,” he said. “Or else next time I’ll be the one with the rifle.”

“You would kill him?”

“Honestly? Yeah if it came to it. I wish people like him died in car crashes, not innocent ones. We have every right to protect ourselves and our family and I’m not letting him touch the kids or you ever.”

“I should probably say that’s bad but I don’t disagree.”

“Money works a lot. A real lot. Maybe he did something super bad and he can rot in prison forever.”

“Maybe,” you said, spotting a cruiser pull up nearby. 

“Stay here, sweetie,” he said. He walked over while the officer got out. He spoke to Jensen for a moment, Jensen’s face a bit blank when he turned around. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Your dad had a heart attack in the backseat,” said Jensen quietly. You cocked your head and he shook his. “Your father. In the police cruiser that was taking him for booking. He was just pronounced.”

“He died?”

“He was really overweight and didn’t look to be in the best health. He probably got his heart rate up too high and...the officer said he’d escort us home, stay outside the house for the night, calm our nerves.”

“He’s really dead?” you asked. You looked over at the officer and he came over, giving you a quick smile. “He really died?”

“Yes mam.”

“What...happens now?” you asked.

“We’ll file the report but you don’t necessarily need to press charges anymore. You’re next of kin as far as we’re aware so the body…” he trailed off when he looked at you. “We can talk about this with your lawyer.”

“Thanks,” said Jensen. “We’ll be on the road in a minute.” 

The officer climbed back in his cruiser, Jensen leaning against the doorframe. He tucked your hair behind your ear, letting out a deep breath.

“Y/N,” he said. He stroked your cheek, your head turning up. “What is it, honey?”

“I don’t feel bad at all. I’m actually happy. That kinda is freaking me out a little. You shouldn’t be happy someone died.”

“Most people you’re right, you shouldn’t. But there are exceptions. He tormented you. He harassed you. He came after our family. I’m gonna sleep just fine tonight knowing he’s never coming back in our lives.”

“Were you scared of him?” He ducked his head down and you took hold of his hand. “Jensen.”

“Put it this way, I’d protect my family by any means necessary. What scares me was what if I was five minutes later tonight. Ten minutes. My job is to protect you and especially from monsters like that.”

“I’m a big girl Jensen. You don’t have to protect me from anything.”

“Yes I do, just like if it were me in your shoes I know you’d have done the same exact thing. We protect each other. It’s not because I’m the guy or I’m stronger. You’re my family and that’s what we do.”

“Thank you for protecting me and forgiving me for being stupid earlier,” you said. He smiled and nodded.

“You’re my dumbass and I’m yours,” he said. “Want to go home now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

“He’s really gonna spend the night?” you asked half an hour later in bed, Jensen shutting the door after himself. “He knows there’s a cop outside, right?”

“What can I say, Jared...he thinks of you like a little sister,” he said. “I can’t blame him for being protective.”

“I’ll be right back,” you said. You climbed out of bed and went downstairs, the light dim aside from where Jared was reading on the couch, a blanket over his legs. He looked over the top of the book and set it down, sitting up.

“Everything alright?” he asked. You smiled and took a seat on the edge of the couch, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thanks for staying,” you said, a pair of large arms wrapped around your back. 

“Of course.”

“You do know there’s nobody to bother us now, right?”

“I know. Some peace of mind never hurt anybody though,” he said. “Go on back to your fiance. You guys had a rough night.”

“Yeah,” you said, closing your eyes. “Thanks.”

He kissed your temple and you returned to your room, Jensen pulling you under the covers. You let out a deep breath, turning into his side. 

“Here,” he said. He started to take off his bracelet but you shook your head.

“It’s yours, Jensen. I feel safe, I promise.”

“You’re tense still, honey.”

“Still working on that not being so angry at myself thing,” you said. He smiled and kissed you quickly, laying an arm over your waist. “I know what you said but I still want you to be pissed at me for lying.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But-”

“You didn’t hurt me, Y/N and you know what? Sometimes, you’re gonna hurt me and I’m gonna hurt you. We’ll have bad days and get annoyed with one another. I’ll leave dishes in the sink and make a mess of the closet. You’ll chew with your mouth open and never fill up your car with gas until it’s too low. We’re not perfect. But even if we do hurt each other, we forgive each other because that’s what you do. We’re not always gonna like each other and what we do but we’ll always love each other. I don’t want to be mad at you. I want you to feel safe and know that I understand why you did what you did. I do. Please try to let it go, for me.”

“I am trying,” you said quietly. You shut your eyes and turned away, his arm over you pulling you back against his chest. “You’re normal. I can’t just stop hating myself like that.”

“You think I’m normal?” he chuckled. “Me?”

“Did you ever have to punch Dee’s psycho father? Did you ever have to talk about protecting her? Did she ever put your family in danger? Did she ever-”

“Y/N.”

“Go away,” you said, pushing his arm off of you. You moved over farther on your side of the bed, tucking your covers under your chin. The bed shifted and you tried to move again but his arm pulled you straight back to his chest, fingers dipping under your ribcage and holding you in place. 

“I might not have had to have done those things for her but I would have. For the record, you didn’t put anyone in danger. That fucking asshole did. It is not your fault he was an evil and vile person. All you did was try to protect us because you were scared and I know, I know you didn’t tell me because you’re so scared of that man and I don’t blame you. He made my skin crawl and I interacted with him for all of five minutes. Get it out of your system however you need to but you are stuck with me forever. There is nothing you could do to make me want you gone so get used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” you breathed out. You pulled your sheets over your head, taking deep heaving breaths. “You have so much to worry about already. You shouldn’t have to…”

“Did you think I couldn’t handle the news?” he asked. “That your father was so close by?”

“I thought you’d hate me,” you whispered. He tugged down your sheets and you squeezed your eyes shut as he turned you around.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Now you’re angry.”

“Look at me.” You forced them open, meeting a soft face and sad eyes. “Why would I ever hate you?”

“My shit’s supposed to stay in the past. You don’t…” you said, Jensen furrowing his brow. “See, you’re mad.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Your shit stays in the past.”

“It means you’ve had the world’s worst fucking year and you’re in such a good place now and you need to focus on you and not have my shit come in and fuck that up.”

“Do you think I can’t take care of you?” he asked.

“No of course not.”

“It sounds like you’re saying that you think you can’t have problems cause I can’t handle it.”

“Well at least I got what I wanted with you pissed,” you said, glaring up at him, tears welling in your eyes. You tried to push away but he held his arm around you. “Jensen, let me up.” You pushed again and he glared right back. “Stop it. Let me out of bed.” He only glared and you tore your eyes away from his face. 

“Do you think I’m weak?”

“No,” you said, keeping your head low.

“Then why-”

“Because you need a fucking break. I dealt with this shit years and years ago. I understand needing a fucking break and people need to take care of you, help you. You’re a different man than the one I met way back in January. You’re so happy and healthy and you have a different outlook on life again and that’s incredible. I’m so proud of you for that. But you’re just, just out of the woods and I’m not gonna be the one that sends you back in because of my fucking problems.”

“They’re our fucking problems,” he said. “Our problems. There’s no your problems or my problems anymore. It’s us together. Why do you think I’d hate you?”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing on his chest. “Stop.”

“Why?”

“I said stop!”

“Tell me.”

“Because I’m scared,” you said. He let his hold go lax and you sat up, getting out of bed. You walked over to the balcony door and rested your forehead against the cool glass. The bed creaked and you felt his presence behind you. 

“You’re scared of me.” You scrunched up your face and nodded. “Why?”

“Because if you realized how fucked up I am, you wouldn’t come near me with a ten foot pole. I’m not supposed to cause you problems. I’m supposed to fix them, be there for you.”

“But I can’t be there for you. You assume I’m just a dick where it’s only me and my shit that we can work on right?” he said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Relationships go both ways, Y/N. I don’t expect you to take care of me for the rest of my life. You are allowed to need help too.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he said, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. He was frowning, his voice an octave higher if you didn’t know any better. “Do you honestly think I would have been angry at you if you told me about your father being in town? Do you?”

“I put the kids-”

“For the last time, you didn’t put anyone in danger,” he growled. “What is going on with you?”

“How many times do I have to say it, I’m not supposed to cause any problems!” you said.

“Yes you are! You, me, the kids. We’re all gonna have fucking problems sooner or later. Why do you think I’d hate you for telling me you had a problem, sweetheart?”

You fidgeted with the bottom of your shirt, looking past him.

“Something with your dad, isn’t it. Something got triggered in you after that phone call with the detective, didn’t it.”

“Call Ray. Tell him to come over,” you said quietly. He nodded and grabbed his phone, sending off a quick message before he was guiding you to sit on the bed.

“Honey,” he said when you pulled away from him. “Okay, no touching. Can I get you anything while we wait for Ray?”

“Probably should tell that cop that we’re expecting someone,” you said, rubbing your hands against your thighs. “Fuck, tell Ray it’s the help thing. He’ll understand.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod. You rubbed your legs harder and he stared at you. “Y/N.”

“I’m trying not to have a panic attack,” you grit out. “I haven’t had one since I was eight.”

Your head was turned and you felt his hands on your cheeks, Jensen forcing a smile. You stared for a long beat before you took a breath, his head nodding. 

“That feels better,” you said, your hands not rubbing so hard. You heard feet and the door open, glancing behind Jensen to catch Jared in the doorway. You could feel your heart rate pick up, Jared nodding.

“I get panic attacks too,” he said. You nodded and Jensen glanced over his shoulder. “I heard arguing.”

“Can you tell that cop outside Ray is coming by and to let him in?” said Jensen.

“Sure. Who’s Ray?” asked Jared.

“Her mom’s old boyfriend and foster dad. He was her therapist when she was little. Something’s not right,” said Jensen.

“I’ll send him up as soon as he gets here.”

You felt calmer by the time Ray was walking in fifteen minutes later in sweats and not much more. 

“Hey kiddo,” said Ray, giving you a quick hug before he squatted down in front of you. “Doing okay?”

You shook your head and shut your eyes, Jensen holding an arm around you. He explained what happened, Ray staying quiet. You eventually opened your eyes to stare at the floor, Ray standing and pulling over the bench from the end of the bed to sit on. 

“Y/N do you want Jensen to stay?” he asked. You nodded and he hummed. “Y/N.”

“Yes,” you said dryly. “Can I have some water?”

Jensen got up and retrieved a glass from the bathroom, the pair of them watching you chug half of it down before you sat it on the nightstand.

“Y/N, does Jensen know what triggered you?” he asked.

“Not specifically. Asking for help he figured out but not the reason,” you said, looking away. 

“Well on the bright side, you didn’t have a panic attack, you worked through it, you trusted Jensen to help you through it even if he didn’t know why and some of your coping skills helped you out quite a bit. But this is something Jensen needs to know. You’ll need help in a relationship and I know this is the big one but he needs to know so this never happens again,” said Ray. 

“What if he thinks I overreacted?” you said.

“I won’t, trust me,” said Jensen. “Secret’s safe with me.”

“Go on, Y/N,” said Ray. You took a deep breath and Jensen held your hand, stroking his thumb over the back.

“So you kinda figured out that me having a problem was the trigger and that I didn’t ask for your help earlier and kinda assumed a bad reaction if I did.”

“Yup and that’s all okay,” he said softly. 

“It wasn’t because of you that I assumed you’d have a bad reaction. It was something that happened to me that sort of...default my head to react and anticipate things in a certain way in that particular situation.”

“So if you have a problem and ask for help, you assume the person you’re asking for help from will not take it in a good way?” he asked.

“Yeah, basically. If it’s a really big problem and if I anticipate that the problem would upset the person I’m asking then my head assumes this bad thing will happen. In that case, it assumes the much better option is to not reveal the problem at all and handle it myself because then the bad thing won’t happen,” you said.

“The bad thing. It’s bad isn’t it,” he said. “Really bad.”

“Y/N, remember you can share without the graphics involved,” said Ray. You nodded and leaned your head back.

“When I was six I broke something of my dad’s. A mug. His favorite mug. I picked up the pieces but I knew it was his favorite so I didn’t throw it out. I asked him for help putting it back together,” you said. “The amount of rage he had over a broken mug...I never experienced such a horrible day in all eight years as that one.”

He didn’t say anything and you tucked your feet up, holding one up to him and showing the bottom. He stared at it and cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. It took him a moment but you saw when he noticed the small little scars. His eyes flickered back to yours and you nodded.

“He hurt me badly,” you said. “All day long.” He stared at you and you told him exactly the way the scars came to be, Jensen shuddering and closing his eyes. “It wasn’t a good day.”

“Fuck,” he said, standing up and rubbing his arm. “You were six?”

He shook his head and went to the balcony door, taking a deep breath.

“Jensen. You alright?” asked Ray.

“No,” he said, turning around, looking to you. “That many times?”

“One for every broken piece,” you said. He ran his hands over his face and shut his eyes. “The worst thing was just that it went on all day. It was long enough for me to interpret it as conditioning for a result of an event rather than just a bad memory from everything me and Ray worked out back in the day. It hasn’t been a trigger for me ever really but we knew it could be someday for a big life problem potentially. I’m guessing with it involving my dad, it kinda sent me into overdrive earlier.”

“Jensen,” said Ray, shooting you a quick glance. “Y/N’s okay. I’m actually quite impressed with her behavior. There was no hesitancy or waiver in her voice. I don’t feel as though this will likely be an issue ever again now that it’s out in the open and her father is gone.”

“You’re the closest thing to a father she’s ever had,” said Jensen, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know every horrible thing that’s happened to her and, and you just...all you did was throw him out of the country for fifteen years?”

“First off, the law was different back then and it was a lifetime ban. Second of all, buddy, violence isn’t always the answer to violence,” said Ray, getting to his feet.

“You should have adopted her.”

“She didn’t want me to.”

“You were the damn adult. She was the kid. Act like one,” said Jensen. “I mean fuck, you adopted two other kids only a few years later.”

“If I had adopted her you wouldn’t even know she fucking exists,” shot back Ray. “Her father still would have come back and this would have happened regardless.”

“You should have done what you needed to the second he popped up again when she was a teenager.”

“I did not strike you as a violent man but I do not like it.”

“She was almost assaulted by that man again tonight,” growled Jensen. “He tortured her and tormented her and he got barely any time at all for that. I would have-”

“Why’d you call the police then?” he asked. Jensen swallowed and Ray shrugged. “Why back at the farmhouse did you call the police? You could have killed him, called it self-defense and been done with it. Why?”

Jensen looked down and Ray sighed.

“The price for being a good person is making hard decisions, Jensen. Would I have loved to have rid the world of that son of a bitch the second I learned all about him? Oh you don’t know the half of it. I’m a trauma therapist, Jensen. Mostly for kids and teenagers. Do you know how much fucked up shit I’ve heard in my life? The world has so much ugliness in it. But it’s got good too and that’s why you called the police like you were supposed to and that’s why she loves you. She needs a good man, not a violent one. I’m not saying don’t think about protecting your family. But don’t act on it unless you don’t have a fucking choice, kid. Understand me?”

Jensen nodded and Ray cleared his throat.

“Say it.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jensen quietly.

“Ray, don’t get mad at him. He’s not used to this stuff,” you said. You stood and pulled Jensen back to the bed, Ray crossing his arms and nodding. “If I ever feel this happening again, what should I do?”

“You could work on reconditioning instead,” said Ray. “Work on saying I have a problem to Jensen and ask for help, even if there isn’t a problem. If Jensen responds positively or even neutrally and you two work at it maybe an hour or so a day for the next week or two, I don’t think you’ll ever have to be afraid of that trigger coming back. All of your triggers Y/N have involved your father. I know similarities can set you off but they’re small, manageable. You never have to worry about anyone hurting you ever again.”

“I know. I should have trusted my partner to have my back,” you said.

“I don’t blame you. I didn’t before and I definitely don’t now,” said Jensen. Ray smiled and pulled the bench back over to the bed. 

“Get some rest you two,” he said. 

“Ray?” you said after he gave you a hug. “Why didn’t you adopt me?”

“Honestly?” he asked. You nodded, Jensen preening his ears. “You reminded me so much of your mother and I was devastated when we lost her. I should have been the adult and done what was right but after seeing her in pain for years...I didn’t have it in me to take on a grieving teenager that would have been just as angry back at me. She already was so angry then, I would have put fuel on the flames. I didn’t have it in me to be strong anymore and that’s my mistake for not trying.”

“You can adopt adults,” said Jensen. You both looked at him and he smiled. “Adults can be adopted.”

“Not sure if…” trailed off Ray as you smiled at him. “Y/N, we’ve only just started talking again.”

“Maybe if that keeps going well...maybe things could...work out…” you said. “If you wanted.”

“Yeah, maybe we can do that,” he said with a smile. “It’s getting late. Put her to bed. Don’t be surprised if there’s a nightmare or two tonight.”

“Okay. Thank you,” said Jensen as Ray started to leave.

“Take care of her kid,” he said. Jensen nodded and you lay back in bed, the house growing quiet. 

“I’m so sorry,” said Jensen, his head lowering after a few moments. “I should have realized…”

“You did realize,” you said, sitting up. “Even when my head couldn’t come out and say I trust you and I know I’m acting a certain way because of what my dad put me through, you stayed calm and figured it out. You got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m sorry he hurt you. I got to pretend to be a cowboy and my dad read me stories when I was six. The worst thing I ever got was a few smacks but I know he regrets doing that,” he said. “Even then it was because I was acting out not…I just don’t understand why he would ever hurt you.”

“I stopped trying to understand him a long time ago,” you said, the door opening. You both turned, Arrow walking in with a pair of wet eyes. “You have a nightmare, sweetie?”

“I went…to the bathroom…” she said when you noticed her holding her wrist. Jensen hopped up and walked over, picking her up gently and setting her beside you. “I fell down off the step stool. It was wet.”

“Tell me what hurts,” he said.

“My hand,” she said. 

“Let daddy see,” you said. She moved her hand back and you both saw her wrist was swollen and bruised. Jensen swore under his breath and guided her hand back on it. “Okay, you hold it if it feels better that way, honey. Daddy, I think Arrow should go to urgent care.”

“Arrow, why don’t you go get your dolly and we’ll bring her with us. We might have to wait a minute,” he said. “Be careful okay? I’ll come get you in just a minute.”

“Mommy?” she asked, staring up at you. 

“Mommy’s really tired-” said Jensen when you stood up.

“Uncle Jared is staying over though, daddy. Go get your dolly and mommy and daddy will get dressed,” you said. She sniffled but climbed down okay, Jensen sighing when she left the room. “She wants me there and I want to be there. I’m going.”

“Alright but you’re going to try and get some sleep in the waiting room at least, please.”

“No promises.”

________

A/N: Read Part 17 here!

[erika-being-erika]

More levihan reccomendations!

Part 1

• One Last Time by PiercingThePage

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levi & Hanji have been dating for about 3 years in highschool. He starts to have feelings for one of the pretty girls names Petra Ral. After he starts cheating on Hanji with her, he decides he wants out of the relationship. Until the day he decides to tell her, ends up being the day she tells him that she's pregnant. Will they make it out well, or will Levi start to realize he is becoming his own dead beat dad

• Having My Baby by Countess_Dorkula

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Another SNK Kink Meme fill. Follow Levi and Hanji as they go through the marvelous adventure towards parenthood.

• catch me if you can by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapter || on going]

Summary:

The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn't deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman's cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn't help but feel something close to fascination.

No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.

Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

• Partners by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

When Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed.

And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

• can't keep my hands off you by fanmoose12

[Multi-chap || completed]

Summary:

Hange, Levi and their not so secret relationship.

• Looking for You by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Returning from a long mission, all Levi wanted was to spend sometime with Hange. But instead he got a message from Erwin, urging him to come to HQ. There he found out, that Hange was missing for over a week and that his new mission is to partner with Moblit, Hange's loyal assistant, and together find and bring Hange home.

• A Tale of Two Slaves by TundrainAfrica

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

"Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn't exist. Everything's a choice. And Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him."

Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn't.

• Free-Falling by djmarinizela

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Skydiver and tea shop owner Levi Ackerman meets the town’s resident mad scientist and tries to convince himself that he's not falling for her.

• All of Me by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

By the time they reached the trees, Sylvia's sides were heaving, her flanks covered in sweat-foam, but they couldn't afford to stop; two titans had become more. Hange refused to look behind her, but she could tell by the way the ground shook that one of them was at least a 13-meter class.

And all she had with her was one blade and a horse who was about to drop dead of exhaustion.1

• Dreams May Not Come True by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levihan. Hange knows something is wrong when she goes down to breakfast one morning and the smell makes her stomach churn.

• Something Like Destiny by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Reincarnation AU. Zoë doesn't have dreams; she just knows.

• A Dangerous Game by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

A snk 1920′s AU:

Sina is wild, crowded, bursting with industry. Home to jazz, fashion - and corruption. Crooked politicians, dirty police, and powerful gangs have turned the city into a cesspit of violence where the powerful rule. At the center of the chaos are the Ackermans - one of the most powerful gangs in the city, Mayor Fritz - who is as corrupt as he is wealthy, Erwin - a police commander determined to weed out the corruption in his own department, and Hanji - a journalist willing to risk everything to expose their city’s darkest secrets.

• A Simple Choice by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

The rain had started up again. Fat droplets drummed over her hood, drenching the fabric. Her horse’s reins were wet and cold; though her fingers, numbed from continued exposure to the elements, could hardly feel them.

Following the sound of the explosion, they’d arrived at a clearing. It was a mess of blackened, shattered wood, and the wagon, a skeleton, was little more than a smoking husk. Beyond the wreckage, a titan lay prostrate. Felled, its limp, hulking form was barely visible through the rain.

As soldiers shouted, pointing at the creature, one of the horses still tethered to the ruined wagon, writhed. When the beast screamed a broken, panicked wail, her own horse shifted, flanks twitching with unease.

Hanji barely noticed.

The soldiers' voices, the poor beast’s screams, even the heavy, even thrum of rain - had silenced as she looked to the river.

A body lay at the edge of the dark, white-capped water.

• License to Science (And Kill) by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

When International criminal organization, TITAN, successfully steals an arsenal of missiles along with their encrypted launch codes, Code Blue is initiated. It up to Agent Levi Ackerman, a spy in a class of his own, and Research scientist Hanji Zoe, the premiere authority on the organization, to halt a global catastrophe in its tracks.

She lowered her glasses, brown eyes blinking over the rims. “Does this mean I have a-” One brow lifted. “License to Science?”

“No. But I do have a License to Kill. Don’t tempt me to use it.”

• Aftermath by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levi rushes to the wall in the aftermath of the Armored and Colossal Titans' attack.

“Are you worried about your wife?”

The question shocked him out of his musings.

Levi looked up, “My what?”

But the pastor was already speaking, “You’re obviously beside yourself with stress – and it’s understandable. Not knowing if your wife has survived-”

Levi cut him off, “My what?”

The pastor hesitated, apparently realizing he’d made some mistake, but misunderstanding precisely what it was. “Your…wife? The woman we traveled with before? She’s ah – forceful. You two uh – have the same, er – strident personality. When we first met, she dangled me off the wall.”

• Terrible Things by someonestolemyshoes

[One-shot]

Summary:

The first time he tells her she’s pretty, Hange is all kinds of filthy - sweaty, dirty, twigs in her hair and mud on her shoes and a great big disgusting ball of everything Levi hates.

She is also crying.

It isn’t like he’s never seen her cry before - they’re nine and crying is just what kids do, especially kids like Hange who like to play with things they probably shouldn’t play with and like to climb trees even though they’re kind of clumsy and so the crying, in it’s self, isn’t all that weird.

What’s weird is that Hange - Hange, with her print-smudged glasses and ratty ponytail and clothes two sizes too big for her - is crying because a boy called her ugly.

• Acquiescence by 3LevisInATrenchcoat

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

On Judgement Day, the tide brought someone strange.

• My soulmate by a_golden_hearted_snk_fan

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

When your soulmate gets injured or hurt, their injuries show up on your skin with a slight sting then slowly fade. It was a rare thing to occur, but Levi and Hanji were the lucky ones.

• SOS by djmarinizela

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levi is a reclusive senior student who shares an apartment with Mike, Nanaba, and his best friend, Hange, who he's secretly in love with. Oddly enough, they also belong to the same secret club with a special operations squad. The 104th cohort is a bunch of freshmen misfits they've taken under their wing, Moblit is Hange's lab partner also vying for her affections, while Erwin’s the newest instructor who doesn’t know how to teach. And they say school is fun.

• the moon is dark by alteirkay

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

His face was wet.

“What the hell?” He murmured touching his face to see if he was mistaken. He was not. His hair was damp with sweat. There was an uneasiness invading his whole body. He was filled with it like he had drunk it straight from a bottle. His chest was heavy, his breaths were uneven, and his right eye was throbbing like a hammer was hitting at it continuously.

He was feeling like he had just lost someone.

• The Experiment by KakashiSensei

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

After a public brawl between them, Commander Erwin confines Captain Levi and Zoë Hange to barracks. When the Survey Corps next heads out, they are left behind as a punishment. Soon bored out of her mind, Hange turns her scientific curiosity towards the most interesting specimen within her reach: Levi. When his past reaches out to him to claim him back, she joins him on a dangerous journey. Do budding feelings have a chance in the most desolate of places?

• windmill by alteirkay

[One-shot]

Summary:

Here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel.

Until one day he got hit by a storm so wild, so rare and so incredibly terrifying but in the most beautiful and breath-taking way that it left him defenceless, vulnerable and weak. Like a tiny little flower which had long passed its day of blossoming in a fierce, winter dawn yet it stood erect with its fragile body, challenging against the merciless winds and the brutal frost.

He fell in love.

• In Your Shoes by Neighborhood_Nori

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary

Levi, Paradis Studio's strict ballet instructor, can't stand the newly hired hip-hop instructor, Hanji. As a ballet dancer with his own complicated history with hip-hop, Levi only has respect for the more refined forms of dance. Can Hanji change his mind about her and her style of dance through determination, persistence, and her passion for dance?

• Distractions by Rookblonkorules

[One -shot]

Summary:

Hange’s love for pop culture interferes with her and Levi’s work.

It’s annoying.

• Leave You Whole. by zerothecreator

[One-shot]

Summary:

Levi spends his last moments in Hangë’s arms.

• Moments by Anonymous

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levihan Modern AU

She's a long-legged, sun-kissed beauty with tattoos in hidden places and multiple piercings.

Her leather jacket's on his bedroom floor, her ripped jeans too and she's pretty sure one of her heeled scarlet boots got left in the living room in their haste last night. At least her glasses are on top of the bedside drawer- they managed that, at least.

• more baby snacks by argethara

[One-shot]

Summary:

Levi tries to find out how and why boxes of Udo's biscuits are gone.

• Anniversary by EllePellano

[One-shot]

Summary:

AU One-shot: Erwin and Levi have a short conversation about the woman they both loved

• All We Are by TundrainAfrica

[One-shot]

Summary:

"We’re what’s left of the old survey corps Levi. We’re all alone.”

“We can’t be alone if there’s two of us.”

“So what do you suggest Captain Levi?”

“We stick together…” Levi answered. “We stick together, Commander Hange.”

During the time skip, Hange and Levi's relationship develops.

• Thin Ice by Xenobia

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Takes place between events in chapter 90 of the manga. Hange, now commander of Survey Corps, commissions Captain Levi to scout territory in the mountains to search for a supply tower she believes may still be stocked. The scouts need all the supplies and currency they can get in order to carry on with their goals. Against his better judgment, Levi joins her on this excursion. The bitter, early winter makes their mission harder than expected, however. The pair find themselves relying on each other to survive, and they find it increasingly difficult to treat one another as comrades in arms and nothing more.

• Hidden Meanings by WhatHistoryForgets

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Hange never thought a materialistic item could mean so much to her until she lost it.

• Of teacups and stale bread

[One-shot]

Summary:

Five times Hange prepared tea for Levi, and the one time that he did.

• Unintended Consequence(s) by Ella3982

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Not all of the Anti-Personnel Control Squad died when the cavern collapsed. Some of them escaped through the tunnel Hange, Moblit, and Armin used. When the two parties meet, the Anti-Personnel Control Squad takes the three Survey Corps members hostage with the intent to force the Survey Corp's hand. However, when they find out that Kenny Ackerman has died, they become more desperate.

If the Uprising Arc had ended a bit differently, how would it alter the course of the story? What would change, and what would stay the same?

• A Fire in the Shadows by free_pancakes

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

LeviHan in an Avatar the Last Airbender AU - a side story occurring alongside the events of ATLA

Levi, the nephew of a fire nation captain, stumbles upon a ragtag group of 5 known as the Scouts, formidably known for foiling the plans of local fire nation control, living in the forests a few miles north of Ba Sing Se.

• Speak Your Dark Pleasures to Me by Lamia of the Dark (VisceraNight)

Summary:

A collection of drabbles and oneshots exploring a sexual relationship between Levi and Hanji.

• Tips & Tricks by Sleepyheadven

[One-shot]

Summary:

Eren’s brow was furrowed forward in confusion as he spoke. “I thought you said that staring at people isn’t nice?” He said after a few moments, gathering his thoughts. He seemed genuinely bewildered as to why she was intensely staring down a stranger when she had told him countless times before that it was impolite to do so.

Oh, lord, was her only thought as she quickly scrambled for an excuse. “I - Uh - well, sometimes people stare at other people because -” before she could even begin to form a proper sentence, Eren interjected. She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or dismayed by his actions.

“Is it because you think he’s cute? My friend Ymir stares at my friend Krista that way all the time, she says it’s because she’s so pretty!” Eren babbled happily, oblivious to the way Hange’s grip around the handle of the cart tightened. Her brown eyes darted back and forth between the stranger and her son, hoping that he couldn’t overhear their conversation seeing as Eren wasn’t the softest of speakers.

• A drunk man always tells the truth by krissixh

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levi finds out that Hanji is engaged to a rich man. He gets drunk that night and confronts her his feelings. The two have to confront a lot of difficulties to be able to end as a couple.

• Relapses by Oreotragus

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Despite having become a great asset to humankind, Captain Levi still has some trouble adjusting to his post-crime lifestyle, especially the social aspects of it. One extremely badly coordinated step out of his comfort zone creates a grand mess that he has to clean up.

• Weight of Survival by otterbeans

[One-shot]

Summary:

Hanji gives birth to Levi's unintentional child. She pretends to be surprised when he shows up for it.

• Don't drink the kool-aid by smallblip

[One-shot]

Summary:

Think of a number between one and ten. Because that's how you love in this world. First you toss out the word love. You tell it to its face that Commander Erwin Smith says “love is the ultimate cult of men... A sect... A dirty ploy by the whatever god is up there to make us all vulnerable..."

And then, everything falls into place.

• until another thursday evening by pinkweirdsunsets

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

and ever since they were only five, Levi had protected her, whether it was from the daily shenanigans she came up with or the criminal background he came from. She was his sunshine, messy and grinning, and he shielded her away from all terrible things.

until zeke yeager came along.

• Make It Make Sense! By cznpai

[Multi-chapt || completed]

I can't add the summary cause I've reached the limit. Welp i still have a lot of fics here so ill make a another post of reccomendations... HAHA bye!

[bandyriddles]

I finished watching The Sandman Netflix adaptation. It’s good! It is a surprisingly good adaptation! But it also helped me articulate my main issue with adapting comics to the screen.

DC comics have a special place in my heart, but I especially love the old constellation of 80s and 90s Vertigo occult comics: Hellblazer, Swamp Thing, and of course The Sandman. I’m coming to the television show not just as someone who has read the comics, but as someone who has read a lot of comics. I read all of The Dreaming! I read Dead Boy Detectives! I read the 2008-2011 House of Mystery!

I think the thing that’s endlessly fascinating to me about comics, but especially the legacy publishers like DC, is that it’s a kind of storytelling that’s constantly in conversation with itself. It’s one of the things that’s particularly satisfying to me about them: pulling apart a palimpsest of allusions, homages, and lost continuities.

As I sat watching The Sandman with a friend of mine who is less familiar with the source material, he asked me what the deal was with Cain and Abel. In response, I went into a long tangent about the history of horror comics, the trope of anthology “hosts” who frame the anthology stories for the reader, and how many of these hosts (Cain and Abel, Lucien the Librarian, and Eve) made their way into The Sandman comics. That didn’t really answer his question, which was more about what role the characters are serving in the show.

Even more than other comics, The Sandman is about stories. And that’s the issue with adapting a comic about comics into film. Ideally, if the comic is about comics, the film or television adaptation should similarly be in conversation with film and television. Cain and Abel, while an iconic part of The Dreaming, are superfluous to the plot and world of the Netflix adaptation. Unless you’re using them to comment on the horror films that those kind of horror comics inspired (Tales from the Crypt, Creepshow, anything with Elvira), they’re no longer serving their purpose.

I had the same issue with the 2009 Watchmen film. It wasn’t enough to be a shot-for-shot remake of a comic about comics; it should have been a superhero movie about superhero movies.

In short, I would have loved a more experimental Sandman that explored the more metanarrative elements of its storytelling in the manner of something like Maniac. I know that’s never going to happen with valuable DC IP, but I can dream, can’t I?

[innuendostudios]

Thoughts on: Criterion's Neo-Noir Collection

I have written up all 26 films* in the Criterion Channel's Neo-Noir Collection.

Legend: rw - rewatch; a movie I had seen before going through the collection dnrw - did not rewatch; if a movie met two criteria (a. I had seen it within the last 18 months, b. I actively dislike it) I wrote it up from memory.

* in September, Brick leaves the Criterion Channel and is replaced in the collection with Michael Mann's Thief. May add it to the list when that happens.

Note: These are very "what was on my mind after watching." No effort has been made to avoid spoilers, nor to make the plot clear for anyone who hasn't seen the movies in question. Decide for yourself if that's interesting to you.

Cotton Comes to Harlem I feel utterly unequipped to asses this movie. This and Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song the following year are regularly cited as the progenitors of the blaxploitation genre. (This is arguably unfair, since both were made by Black men and dealt much more substantively with race than the white-directed films that followed them.) Its heroes are a couple of Black cops who are treated with suspicion both by their white colleagues and by the Black community they're meant to police. I'm not 100% clear on whether they're the good guys? I mean, I think they are. But the community's suspicion of them seems, I dunno... well-founded? They are working for The Man. And there's interesting discussion to the had there - is the the problem that the law is carried out by racists, or is the law itself racist? Can Black cops make anything better? But it feels like the film stacks the deck in Gravedigger and Coffin Ed's favor; the local Black church is run by a conman, the Back-to-Africa movement is, itself, a con, and the local Black Power movement is treated as an obstacle. Black cops really are the only force for justice here. Movie portrays Harlem itself as a warm, thriving, cultured community, but the people that make up that community are disloyal and easily fooled. Felt, to me, like the message was "just because they're cops doesn't mean they don't have Black soul," which, nowadays, we would call copaganda. But, then, do I know what I'm talking about? Do I know how much this played into or off of or against stereotypes from 1970? Was this a radical departure I don't have the context to appreciate? Is there substance I'm too white and too many decades removed to pick up on? Am I wildly overthinking this? I dunno. Seems like everyone involved was having a lot of fun, at least. That bit is contagious.

Across 110th Street And here's the other side of the "race film" equation. Another movie set in Harlem with a Black cop pulled between the police, the criminals, and the public, but this time the film is made by white people. I like it both more and less. Pro: this time the difficult position of Black cop who's treated with suspicion by both white cops and Black Harlemites is interrogated. Con: the Black cop has basically no personality other than "honest cop." Pro: the racism of the police force is explicit and systemic, as opposed to comically ineffectual. Con: the movie is shaped around a racist white cop who beats the shit out of Black people but slowly forms a bond with his Black partner. Pro: the Black criminal at the heart of the movie talks openly about how the white world has stacked the deck against him, and he's soulful and relateable. Con: so of course he dies in the end, because the only way privileged people know to sympathetize with minorities is to make them tragic (see also: The Boys in the Band, Philadelphia, and Brokeback Mountain for gay men). Additional con: this time Harlem is portrayed as a hellhole. Barely any of the community is even seen. At least the shot at the end, where the criminal realizes he's going to die and throws the bag of money off a roof and into a playground so the Black kids can pick it up before the cops reclaim it was powerful. But overall... yech. Cotton Comes to Harlem felt like it wasn't for me; this feels like it was 100% for me and I respect it less for that.

The Long Goodbye (rw) The shaggiest dog. Like much Altman, more compelling than good, but very compelling. Raymond Chandler's story is now set in the 1970's, but Philip Marlowe is the same Philip Marlowe of the 1930's. I get the sense there was always something inherently sad about Marlowe. Classic noir always portrayed its detectives as strong-willed men living on the border between the straightlaced world and its seedy underbelly, crossing back and forth freely but belonging to neither. But Chandler stresses the loneliness of it - or, at least, the people who've adapted Chandler do. Marlowe is a decent man in an indecent world, sorting things out, refusing to profit from misery, but unable to set anything truly right. Being a man out of step is here literalized by putting him forty years from the era where he belongs. His hardboiled internal monologue is now the incessant mutterings of the weird guy across the street who never stops smoking. Like I said: compelling! Kael's observation was spot on: everyone in the movie knows more about the mystery than he does, but he's the only one who cares. The mystery is pretty threadbare - Marlowe doesn't detect so much as end up in places and have people explain things to him. But I've seen it two or three times now, and it does linger.

Chinatown (rw) I confess I've always been impressed by Chinatown more than I've liked it. Its story structure is impeccable, its atmosphere is gorgeous, its noirish fatalism is raw and real, its deconstruction of the noir hero is well-observed, and it's full of clever detective tricks (the pocket watches, the tail light, the ruler). I've just never connected with it. Maybe it's a little too perfectly crafted. (I feel similar about Miller's Crossing.) And I've always been ambivalent about the ending. In Towne's original ending, Evelyn shoots Noah Cross dead and get arrested, and neither she nor Jake can tell the truth of why she did it, so she goes to jail for murder and her daughter is in the wind. Polansky proposed the ending that exists now, where Evelyn just dies, Cross wins, and Jake walks away devastated. It communicates the same thing: Jake's attempt to get smart and play all the sides off each other instead of just helping Evelyn escape blows up in his face at the expense of the woman he cares about and any sense of real justice. And it does this more dramatically and efficiently than Towne's original ending. But it also treats Evelyn as narratively disposable, and hands the daughter over to the man who raped Evelyn and murdered her husband. It makes the women suffer more to punch up the ending. But can I honestly say that Towne's ending is the better one? It is thematically equal, dramatically inferior, but would distract me less. Not sure what the calculus comes out to there. Maybe there should be a third option. Anyway! A perfect little contraption. Belongs under a glass dome.

Night Moves (rw) Ah yeah, the good shit. This is my quintessential 70's noir. This is three movies in a row about detectives. Thing is, the classic era wasn't as chockablock with hardboiled detectives as we think; most of those movies starred criminals, cops, and boring dudes seduced to the darkness by a pair of legs. Gumshoes just left the strongest impressions. (The genre is said to begin with Maltese Falcon and end with Touch of Evil, after all.) So when the post-Code 70's decided to pick the genre back up while picking it apart, it makes sense that they went for the 'tecs first. The Long Goodbye dragged the 30's detective into the 70's, and Chinatown went back to the 30's with a 70's sensibility. But Night Moves was about detecting in the Watergate era, and how that changed the archetype. Harry Moseby is the detective so obsessed with finding the truth that he might just ruin his life looking for it, like the straight story will somehow fix everything that's broken, like it'll bring back a murdered teenager and repair his marriage and give him a reason to forgive the woman who fucked him just to distract him from some smuggling. When he's got time to kill, he takes out a little, magnetic chess set and recreates a famous old game, where three knight moves (get it?) would have led to a beautiful checkmate had the player just seen it. He keeps going, self-destructing, because he can't stand the idea that the perfect move is there if he can just find it. And, no matter how much we see it destroy him, we, the audience, want him to keep going; we expect a satisfying resolution to the mystery. That's what we need from a detective picture; one character flat-out compares Harry to Sam Spade. But what if the truth is just... Watergate? Just some prick ruining things for selfish reasons? Nothing grand, nothing satisfying. Nothing could be more noir, or more neo-, than that.

Farewell, My Lovely Sometimes the only thing that makes a noir neo- is that it's in color and all the blood, tits, and racism from the books they're based on get put back in. This second stab at Chandler is competant but not much more than that. Mitchum works as Philip Marlowe, but Chandler's dialogue feels off here, like lines that worked on the page don't work aloud, even though they did when Bogie said them. I'll chalk it up to workmanlike but uninspired direction. (Dang this looks bland so soon after Chinatown.) Moose Malloy is a great character, and perfectly cast. (Wasn't sure at first, but it's true.) Some other interesting cats show up and vanish - the tough brothel madam based on Brenda Allen comes to mind, though she's treated with oddly more disdain than most of the other hoods and is dispatched quicker. In general, the more overt racism and misogyny doesn't seem to do anything except make the movie "edgier" than earlier attempts at the same material, and it reads kinda try-hard. But it mostly holds together. *shrug*

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (dnrw) Didn't care for this at all. Can't tell if the script was treated as a jumping-off point or if the dialogue is 100% improvised, but it just drags on forever and is never that interesting. Keeps treating us to scenes from the strip club like they're the opera scenes in Amadeus, and, whatever, I don't expect burlesque to be Mozart, but Cosmo keeps saying they're an artful, classy joint, and I keep waiting for the show to be more than cheap, lazy camp. How do you make gratuitious nudity boring? Mind you, none of this is bad as a rule - I love digressions and can enjoy good sleaze, and it's clear the filmmakers care about what they're making. They just did not sell it in a way I wanted to buy. Can't remember what edit I watched; I hope it was the 135 minute one, because I cannot imagine there being a longer edit out there.

The American Friend (dnrw) It's weird that this is Patricia Highsmith, right? That Dennis Hopper is playing Tom Ripley? In a cowboy hat? I gather that Minghella's version wasn't true to the source, but I do love that movie, and this is a long, long way from that. This Mr. Ripley isn't even particularly talented! Anyway, this has one really great sequence, where a regular guy has been coerced by crooks into murdering someone on a train platform, and, when the moment comes to shoot, he doesn't. And what follows is a prolonged sequence of an amateur trying to surreptitiously tail a guy across a train station and onto another train, and all the while you're not sure... is he going to do it? is he going to chicken out? is he going to do it so badly he gets caught? It's hard not to put yourself in the protagonist's shoes, wondering how you would handle the situation, whether you could do it, whether you could act on impulse before your conscience could catch up with you. It drags on a long while and this time it's a good thing. Didn't much like the rest of the movie, it's shapeless and often kind of corny, and the central plot hook is contrived. (It's also very weird that this is the only Wim Wenders I've seen.) But, hey, I got one excellent sequence, not gonna complain.

The Big Sleep Unlike the 1946 film, I can follow the plot of this Big Sleep. But, also unlike the 1946 version, this one isn't any damn fun. Mitchum is back as Marlowe (this is three Marlowes in five years, btw), and this time it's set in the 70's and in England, for some reason. I don't find this offensive, but neither do I see what it accomplishes? Most of the cast is still American. (Hi Jimmy!) Still holds together, but even less well than Farewell, My Lovely. But I do find it interesting that the neo-noir era keeps returning to Chandler while it's pretty much left Hammet behind (inasmuch as someone whose genes are spread wide through the whole genre can be left behind). Spade and the Continental Op, straightshooting tough guys who come out on top in the end, seem antiquated in the (post-)modern era. But Marlowe's goodness being out of sync with the world around him only seems more poignant the further you take him from his own time. Nowadays you can really only do Hammett as pastiche, but I sense that you could still play Chandler straight.

Eyes of Laura Mars The most De Palma movie I've seen not made by De Palma, complete with POV shots, paranormal hoodoo, and fixation with sex, death, and whether images of such are art or exploitation (or both). Laura Mars takes photographs of naked women in violent tableux, and has gotten quite famous doing so, but is it damaging to women? The movie has more than a superficial engagement with this topic, but only slightly more than superficial. Kept imagining a movie that is about 30% less serial killer story and 30% more art conversations. (But, then, I have an art degree and have never murdered anyone, so.) Like, museums are full of Biblical paintings full of nude women and slaughter, sometimes both at once, and they're called masterpieces. Most all of them were painted by men on commission from other men. Now Laura Mars makes similar images in modern trappings, and has models made of flesh and blood rather than paint, and it's scandalous? Why is it only controversial once women are getting paid for it? On the other hand, is this just the master's tools? Is she subverting or challenging the male gaze, or just profiting off of it? Or is a woman profiting off of it, itself, a subversion? Is it subversive enough to account for how it commodifies female bodies? These questions are pretty clearly relevant to the movie itself, and the movies in general, especially after the fall of the Hays Code when people were really unrestrained with the blood and boobies. And, heck, the lead is played by the star of Bonnie and Clyde! All this is to say: I wish the movie were as interested in these questions as I am. What's there is a mildly diverting B-picture. There's one great bit where Laura's seeing through the killer's eyes (that's the hook, she gets visions from the murderer's POV; no, this is never explained) and he's RIGHT BEHIND HER, so there's a chase where she charges across an empty room only able to see her own fleeing self from ten feet behind. That was pretty great! And her first kiss with the detective (because you could see a mile away that the detective and the woman he's supposed to protect are gonna fall in love) is immediately followed by the two freaking out about how nonsensical it is for them to fall in love with each other, because she's literally mourning multiple deaths and he's being wildly unprofessional, and then they go back to making out. That bit was great, too. The rest... enh.

The Onion Field What starts off as a seemingly not-that-noirish cops-vs-crooks procedural turns into an agonizingly protracted look at the legal system, with the ultimate argument that the very idea of the law ever resulting in justice is a lie. Hoo! I have to say, I'm impressed. There's a scene where a lawyer - whom I'm not sure is even named, he's like the seventh of thirteen we've met - literally quits the law over how long this court case about two guys shooting a cop has taken. He says the cop who was murdered has been forgotten, his partner has never gotten to move on because the case has lasted eight years, nothing has been accomplished, and they should let the two criminals walk and jail all the judges and lawyers instead. It's awesome! The script is loaded with digressions and unnecessary details, just the way I like it. Can't say I'm impressed with the execution. Nothing is wrong, exactly, but the performances all seem a tad melodramatic or a tad uninspired. Camerawork is, again, purely functional. It's no masterpiece. But that second half worked for me. (And it's Ted Danson's first movie! He did great.)

Body Heat (rw) Let's say up front that this is a handsomely-made movie. Probably the best looking thing on the list since Night Moves. Nothing I've seen better captures the swelter of an East Coast heatwave, or the lusty feeling of being too hot to bang and going at it regardless. Kathleen Turner sells the hell out of a femme fatale. There are a lot of good lines and good performances (Ted Danson is back and having the time of his life). I want to get all that out of the way, because this is a movie heavily modeled after Double Indemnity, and I wanted to discuss its merits before I get into why inviting that comparison doesn't help the movie out. In a lot of ways, it's the same rules as the Robert Mitchum Marlowe movies - do Double Indemnity but amp up the sex and violence. And, to a degree it works. (At least, the sex does, dunno that Double Indemnity was crying out for explosions.) But the plot is amped as well, and gets downright silly. Yeah, Mrs. Dietrichson seduces Walter Neff so he'll off her husband, but Neff clocks that pretty early and goes along with it anyway. Everything beyond that is two people keeping too big a secret and slowly turning on each other. But here? For the twists to work Matty has to be, from frame one, playing four-dimensional chess on the order of Senator Palpatine, and its about as plausible. (Exactly how did she know, after she rebuffed Ned, he would figure out her local bar and go looking for her at the exact hour she was there?) It's already kind of weird to be using the spider woman trope in 1981, but to make her MORE sexually conniving and mercenary than she was in the 40's is... not great. As lurid trash, it's pretty fun for a while, but some noir stuff can't just be updated, it needs to be subverted or it doesn't justify its existence.

Blow Out Brian De Palma has two categories of movie: he's got his mainstream, director-for-hire fare, where his voice is either reigned in or indulged in isolated sequences that don't always jive with the rest fo the film, and then there's his Brian De Palma movies. My mistake, it seems, is having seen several for-hires from throughout his career - The Untouchables (fine enough), Carlito's Way (ditto, but less), Mission: Impossible (enh) - but had only seen De Palma-ass movies from his late period (Femme Fatale and The Black Dahlia, both of which I think are garbage). All this to say: Blow Out was my first classic-era De Palma, and holy fucking shit dudes. This was (with caveats) my absolute and entire jam. I said I could enjoy good sleaze, and this is good friggin' sleaze. (Though far short of De Palma at his sleaziest, mercifully.) The splitscreens, the diopter shots, the canted angles, how does he make so many shlocky things work?! John Travolta's sound tech goes out to get fresh wind fx for the movie he's working on, and we get this wonderful sequence of visuals following sounds as he turns his attention and his microphone to various noises - a couple on a walk, a frog, an owl, a buzzing street lamp. Later, as he listens back to the footage, the same sequence plays again, but this time from his POV; we're seeing his memory as guided by the same sequence of sounds, now recreated with different shots, as he moves his pencil in the air mimicking the microphone. When he mixes and edits sounds, we hear the literal soundtrack of the movie we are watching get mixed and edited by the person on screen. And as he tries to unravel a murder mystery, he uses what's at hand: magnetic tape, flatbed editors, an animation camera to turn still photos from the crime scene into a film and sync it with the audio he recorded; it's forensics using only the tools of the editing room. As someone who's spent some time in college editing rooms, this is a hoot and a half. Loses a bit of steam as it goes on and the film nerd stuff gives way to a more traditional thriller, but rallies for a sound-tech-centered final setpiece, which steadily builds to such madcap heights you can feel the air thinning, before oddly cutting its own tension and then trying to build it back up again. It doesn't work as well the second time. But then, that shot right after the climax? Damn. Conflicted on how the movie treats the female lead. I get why feminist film theorists are so divided on De Palma. His stuff is full of things feminists (rightly) criticize, full of women getting naked when they're not getting stabbed, but he also clearly finds women fascinating and has them do empowered and unexpected things, and there are many feminist reads of his movies. Call it a mixed bag. But even when he's doing tropey shit, he explores the tropes in unexpected ways. Definitely the best movie so far that I hadn't already seen.

Cutter's Way (rw) Alex Cutter is pitched to us as an obnoxious-but-sympathetic son of a bitch, and, you know, two out of three ain't bad. Watched this during my 2020 neo-noir kick and considered skipping it this time because I really didn't enjoy it. Found it a little more compelling this go around, while being reminded of why my feelings were room temp before. Thematically, I'm onboard: it's about a guy, Cutter, getting it in his head that he's found a murderer and needs to bring him to justice, and his friend, Bone, who intermittently helps him because he feels bad that Cutter lost his arm, leg, and eye in Nam and he also feels guilty for being in love with Cutter's wife. The question of whether the guy they're trying to bring down actually did it is intentionally undefined, and arguably unimportant; they've got personal reasons to see this through. Postmodern and noirish, fixated with the inability to ever fully know the truth of anything, but starring people so broken by society that they're desperate for certainty. (Pretty obvious parallels to Vietnam.) Cutter's a drunk and kind of an asshole, but understandably so. Bone's shiftlessness is the other response to a lack of meaning in the world, to the point where making a decision, any decision, feels like character growth, even if it's maybe killing a guy whose guilt is entirely theoretical. So, yeah, I'm down with all of this! A- in outline form. It's just that Cutter is so uninterestingly unpleasant and no one else on screen is compelling enough to make up for it. His drunken windups are tedious and his sanctimonious speeches about what the war was like are, well, true and accurate but also obviously manipulative. It's two hours with two miserable people, and I think Cutter's constant chatter is supposed to be the comic relief but it's a little too accurate to drunken rambling, which isn't funny if you're not also drunk. He's just tedious, irritating, and periodically racist. Pass.

Blood Simple (rw) I'm pretty cool on the Coens - there are things I've liked, even loved, in every Coen film I've seen, but I always come away dissatisfied. For a while, I kept going to their movies because I was sure eventually I'd love one without qualification. No Country for Old Men came close, the first two acts being master classes in sustained tension. But then the third act is all about denying closure: the protagonist is murdered offscreen, the villain's motives are never explained, and it ends with an existentialist speech about the unfathomable cruelty of the world. And it just doesn't land for me. The archness of the Coen's dialogue, the fussiness of their set design, the kinda-intimate, kinda-awkward, kinda-funny closeness of the camera's singles, it cannot sell me on a devastating meditation about meaninglessness. It's only ever sold me on the Coens' own cleverness. And that archness, that distancing, has typified every one of their movies I've come close to loving. Which is a long-ass preamble to saying, holy heck, I was not prepared for their very first movie to be the one I'd been looking for! I watched it last year and it remains true on rewatch: Blood Simple works like gangbusters. It's kind of Double Indemnity (again) but played as a comedy of errors, minus the comedy: two people romantically involved feeling their trust unravel after a murder. And I think the first thing that works for me is that utter lack of comedy. It's loaded with the Coens' trademark ironies - mostly dramatic in this case - but it's all played straight. Unlike the usual lead/femme fatale relationship, where distrust brews as the movie goes on, the audience knows the two main characters can trust each other. There are no secret duplicitous motives waiting to be revealed. The audience also know why they don't trust each other. (And it's all communicated wordlessly, btw: a character enters a scene and we know, based on the information that character has, how it looks to them and what suspicions it would arouse, even as we know the truth of it). The second thing that works is, weirdly, that the characters aren't very interesting?! Ray and Abby have almost no characterization. Outside of a general likability, they are blank slates. This is a weakness in most films, but, given the agonizingly long, wordless sequences where they dispose of bodies or hide from gunfire, you're left thinking not "what will Ray/Abby do in this scenario," because Ray and Abby are relatively elemental and undefined, but "what would I do in this scenario?" Which creates an exquisite tension but also, weirdly, creates more empathy than I feel for the Coens' usual cast of personalities. It's supposed to work the other way around! Truly enjoyable throughout but absolutely wonderful in the suspenseful-as-hell climax. Good shit right here.

Body Double The thing about erotic thrillers is everything that matters is in the name. Is it thrilling? Is it erotic? Good; all else is secondary. De Palma set out to make the most lurid, voyeuristic, horny, violent, shocking, steamy movie he could come up with, and its success was not strictly dependent on the lead's acting ability or the verisimilitude of the plot. But what are we, the modern audience, to make of it once 37 years have passed and, by today's standards, the eroticism is quite tame and the twists are no longer shocking? Then we're left with a nonsensical riff on Vertigo, a specularization of women that is very hard to justify, and lead actor made of pulped wood. De Palma's obsessions don't cohere into anything more this time; the bits stolen from Hitchcock aren't repurposed to new ends, it really is just Hitch with more tits and less brains. (I mean, I still haven't seen Vertigo, but I feel 100% confident in that statement.) The diopter shots and rear-projections this time look cheap (literally so, apparently; this had 1/3 the budget of Blow Out). There are some mildly interesting setpieces, but nothing compared to Travolta's auditory reconstructions or car chase where he tries to tail a subway train from street level even if it means driving through a frickin parade like an inverted French Connection, goddamn Blow Out was a good movie! Anyway. Melanie Griffith seems to be having fun, at least. I guess I had a little as well, but it was, at best, diverting, and a real letdown.

The Hit Surprised by how much I enjoyed this one. Terrance Stamp flips on the mob and spends ten years living a life of ease in Spain, waiting for the day they find and kill him. Movie kicks off when they do find him, and what follows is a ramshackle road movie as John Hurt and a young Tim Roth attempt to drive him to Paris so they can shoot him in front of his old boss. Stamp is magnetic. He's spent a decade reading philosophy and seems utterly prepared for death, so he spends the trip humming, philosophizing, and being friendly with his captors when he's not winding them up. It remains unclear to the end whether the discord he sews between Roth and Hurt is part of some larger plan of escape or just for shits and giggles. There's also a decent amount of plot for a movie that's not terribly plot-driven - just about every part of the kidnapping has tiny hitches the kidnappers aren't prepared for, and each has film-long repercussions, drawing the cops closer and somehow sticking Laura del Sol in their backseat. The ongoing questions are when Stamp will die, whether del Sol will die, and whether Roth will be able to pull the trigger. In the end, it's actually a meditation on ethics and mortality, but in a quiet and often funny way. It's not going to go down as one of my new favs, but it was a nice way to spend a couple hours.

Trouble in Mind (dnrw) I fucking hated this movie. It's been many months since I watched it, do I remember what I hated most? Was it the bit where a couple of country bumpkins who've come to the city walk into a diner and Mr. Bumpkin clocks that the one Black guy in the back as obviously a criminal despite never having seen him before? Was it the part where Kris Kristofferson won't stop hounding Mrs. Bumpkin no matter how many times she demands to be left alone, and it's played as romantic because obviously he knows what she needs better than she does? Or is it the part where Mr. Bumpkin reluctantly takes a job from the Obvious Criminal (who is, in fact, a criminal, and the only named Black character in the movie if I remember correctly, draw your own conclusions) and, within a week, has become a full-blown hood, which is exemplified by a lot, like, a lot of queer-coding? The answer to all three questions is yes. It's also fucking boring. Even out-of-drag Divine's performance as the villain can't save it.

Manhunter 'sfine? I've still never seen Silence of the Lambs, nor any of the Hopkins Lecter movies, nor, indeed, any full episode of the show. So the unheimlich others get seeing Brian Cox play Hannibal didn't come into play. Cox does a good job with him, but he's barely there. Shame, cuz he's the most interesting part of the movie. Honestly, there's a lot of interesting stuff that's barely there. Will Graham being a guy who gets into the heads of serial killers is explored well enough, and Mann knows how to direct a police procedural such that it's both contemplative and propulsive. But all the other themes it points at? Will's fear that he understands murderers a little too well? Hannibal trying to nudge him towards becoming one? Whatever dance Hannibal and Tooth Fairy are doing? What Tooth Fairy's deal is, anyway? (Why does he wear fake teeth and bite things? Why is he fixated on the red dragon? Does the bit where he says "Francis is gone forever" mean he has DID?) None of it goes anywhere or amounts to anything. I mean, it's certainly more interesting with this stuff than without, but it has that feel of a book that's been pared of its interesting bits to fit the runtime (or, alternately, pulp that's been sloppily elevated). I still haven't made my mind up on Mann's cold, precise camera work, but at least it gives me something to look at. It's fine! This is fine.

Mona Lisa (rw) Gave this one another shot. Bob Hoskins is wonderful as a hood out of his depth in classy places, quick to anger but just as quick to let anger go (the opening sequence where he's screaming on his ex-wife's doorstep, hurling trash cans at her house, and one minute later thrilled to see his old car, is pretty nice). And Cathy Tyson's working girl is a subtler kind of fascinating, exuding a mixture of coldness and kindness. It's just... this is ultimately a story about how heartbreaking it is when the girl you like is gay, right? It's Weezer's Pink Triangle: The Movie. It's not homophobic, exactly - Simone isn't demonized for being a lesbian - but it's still, like, "man, this straight white guy's pain is so much more interesting than the Black queer sex worker's." And when he's yelling "you woulda done it!" at the end, I can't tell if we're supposed to agree with him. Seems pretty clear that she wouldn'ta done it, at least not without there being some reveal about her character that doesn't happen, but I don't think the ending works if we don't agree with him, so... I'm like 70% sure the movie does Simone dirty there. For the first half, their growing relationship feels genuine and natural, and, honestly, the story being about a real bond that unfortunately means different things to each party could work if it didn't end with a gun and a sock in the jaw. Shape feels jagged as well; what feels like the end of the second act or so turns out to be the climax. And some of the symbolism is... well, ok, Simone gives George money to buy more appropriate clothes for hanging out in high end hotels, and he gets a tan leather jacket and a Hawaiian shirt, and their first proper bonding moment is when she takes him out for actual clothes. For the rest of the movie he is rocking double-breasted suits (not sure I agree with the striped tie, but it was the eighties, whaddya gonna do?). Then, in the second half, she sends him off looking for her old streetwalker friend, and now he looks completely out of place in the strip clubs and bordellos. So far so good. But then they have this run-in where her old pimp pulls a knife and cuts George's arm, so, with his nice shirt torn and it not safe going home (I guess?) he starts wearing the Hawaiian shirt again. So around the time he's starting to realize he doesn't really belong in Simone's world or the lowlife world he came from anymore, he's running around with the classy double-breasted suit jacket over the garish Hawaiian shirt, and, yeah, bit on the nose guys. Anyway, it has good bits, I just feel like a movie that asks me to feel for the guy punching a gay, Black woman in the face needs to work harder to earn it. Bit of wasted talent.

The Bedroom Window Starts well. Man starts an affair with his boss' wife, their first night together she witnesses an attempted murder from his window, she worries going to the police will reveal the affair to her husband, so the man reports her testimony to the cops claiming he's the one who saw it. Young Isabelle Huppert is the perfect woman for a guy to risk his career on a crush over, and Young Steve Guttenberg is the perfect balance of affability and amorality. And it flows great - picks just the right media to res. So then he's talking to the cops, telling them what she told him, and they ask questions he forgot to ask her - was the perp's jacket a blazer or a windbreaker? - and he has to guess. Then he gets called into the police lineup, and one guy matches her description really well, but is it just because he's wearing his red hair the way she described it? He can't be sure, doesn't finger any of them. He finds out the cops were pretty certain about one of the guys, so he follows the one he thinks it was around, looking for more evidence, and another girl is attacked right outside a bar he knows the redhead was at. Now he's certain! But he shows the boss' wife the guy and she's not certain, and she reminds him they don't even know if the guy he followed is the same guy the police suspected! And as he feeds more evidence to the cops, he has to lie more, because he can't exactly say he was tailing the guy around the city. So, I'm all in now. Maybe it's because I'd so recently rewatched Night Moves and Cutter's Way, but this seems like another story about uncertainty. He's really certain about the guy because it fits narratively, and we, the audience, feel the same. But he's not actually a witness, he doesn't have actual evidence, he's fitting bits and pieces together like a conspiracy theorist. He's fixating on what he wants to be true. Sign me up! But then it turns out he's 100% correct about who the killer is but his lies are found out and now the cops think he's the killer and I realize, oh, no, this movie isn't nearly as smart as I thought it was. Egg on my face! What transpires for the remaining half of the runtime is goofy as hell, and someone with shlockier sensibilities could have made a meal of it, but Hanson, despite being a Corman protege, takes this silliness seriously in the all wrong ways. Next!

Homicide (rw? I think I saw most of this on TV one time) Homicide centers around the conflicted loyalties of a Jewish cop. It opens with the Jewish cop and his white gentile partner taking over a case with a Black perp from some Black FBI agents. The media is making a big thing about the racial implications of the mostly white cops chasing down a Black man in a Black neighborhood. And inside of 15 minutes the FBI agent is calling the lead a k*ke and the gentile cop is calling the FBI agent a f****t and there's all kinds of invective for Black people. The film is announcing its intentions out the gate: this movie is about race. But the issue here is David Mamet doesn't care about race as anything other than a dramatic device. He's the Ubisoft of filmmakers, having no coherent perspective on social issues but expecting accolades for even bringing them up. Mamet is Jewish (though lead actor Joe Mantegna definitely is not) but what is his position on the Jewish diaspora? The whole deal is Mantegna gets stuck with a petty homicide case instead of the big one they just pinched from the Feds, where a Jewish candy shop owner gets shot in what looks like a stickup. Her family tries to appeal to his Jewishness to get him to take the case seriously, and, after giving them the brush-off for a long time, finally starts following through out of guilt, finding bits and pieces of what may or may not be a conspiracy, with Zionist gun runners and underground neo-Nazis. But, again: all of these are just dramatic devices. Mantegna's Jewishness (those words will never not sound ridiculous together) has always been a liability for him as a cop (we are told, not shown), and taking the case seriously is a reclamation of identity. The Jews he finds community with sold tommyguns to revolutionaries during the founding of Israel. These Jews end up blackmailing him to get a document from the evidence room. So: what is the film's position on placing stock in one's Jewish identity? What is its position on Israel? What is its opinion on Palestine? Because all three come up! And the answer is: Mamet doesn't care. You can read it a lot of different ways. Someone with more context and more patience than me could probably deduce what the de facto message is, the way Chris Franklin deduced the de facto message of Far Cry V despite the game's efforts not to have one, but I'm not going to. Mantegna's attempt to reconnect with his Jewishness gets his partner killed, gets the guy he was supposed to bring in alive shot dead, gets him possibly permanent injuries, gets him on camera blowing up a store that's a front for white nationalists, and all for nothing because the "clues" he found (pretty much exclusively by coincidence) were unconnected nothings. The problem is either his Jewishness, or his lifelong failure to connect with his Jewishness until late in life. Mamet doesn't give a shit. (Like, Mamet canonically doesn't give a shit: he is on record saying social context is meaningless, characters only exist to serve the plot, and there are no deeper meanings in fiction.) Mamet's ping-pong dialogue is fun, as always, and there are some neat ideas and characters, but it's all in service of a big nothing that needed to be a something to work.

Swoon So much I could talk about, let's keep it to the most interesting bits. Hommes Fatales: a thing about classic noir that it was fascinated by the marginal but had to keep it in the margins. Liberated women, queer-coded killers, Black jazz players, broke thieves; they were the main event, they were what audiences wanted to see, they were what made the movies fun. But the ending always had to reassert straightlaced straight, white, middle-class male society as unshakeable. White supremacist capitalist patriarchy demanded, both ideologically and via the Hays Code, that anyone outside these norms be punished, reformed, or dead by the movie's end. The only way to make them the heroes was to play their deaths for tragedy. It is unsurprising that neo-noir would take the queer-coded villains and make them the protagonists. Implicature: This is the story of Leopold and Loeb, murderers famous for being queer, and what's interesting is how the queerness in the first half exists entirely outside of language. Like, it's kind of amazing for a movie from 1992 to be this gay - we watch Nathan and Dickie kiss, undress, masturbate, fuck; hell, they wear wedding rings when they're alone together. But it's never verbalized. Sex is referred to as "your reward" or "what you wanted" or "best time." Dickie says he's going to have "the girls over," and it turns out "the girls" are a bunch of drag queens, but this is never acknowledged. Nathan at one point lists off a bunch of famous men - Oscar Wild, E.M. Forster, Frederick the Great - but, though the commonality between them is obvious (they were all gay), it's left the the audience to recognize it. When their queerness is finally verbalized in the second half, it's first in the language of pathology - a psychiatrist describing their "perversions" and "misuse" of their "organs" before the court, which has to be cleared of women because it's so inappropriate - and then with slurs from the man who murders Dickie in jail (a murder which is written off with no investigation because the victim is a gay prisoner instead of a L&L's victim, a child of a wealthy family). I don't know if I'd have noticed this if I hadn't read Chip Delany describing his experience as a gay man in the 50's existing almost entirely outside of language, the only language at the time being that of heteronormativity. Murder as Love Story: L&L exchange sex as payment for the other commiting crimes; it's foreplay. Their statements to the police where they disagree over who's to blame is a lover's quarrel. Their sentencing is a marriage. Nathan performs his own funeral rites over Dickie's body after he dies on the operating table. They are, in their way, together til death did they part. This is the relationship they can have. That it does all this without romanticizing the murder itself or valorizing L&L as humans is frankly incredible.

Suture (rw) The pitch: at the funeral for his father, wealthy Vincent Towers meets his long lost half brother Clay Arlington. It is implied Clay is a child from out of wedlock, possibly an affair; no one knows Vincent has a half-brother but him and Clay. Vincent invites Clay out to his fancy-ass home in Arizona. Thing is, Vincent is suspected (correctly) by the police of having murdered his father, and, due to a striking family resemblence, he's brought Clay to his home to fake his own death. He finagles Clay into wearing his clothes and driving his car, and then blows the car up and flees the state, leaving the cops to think him dead. Thing is, Clay survives, but with amnesia. The doctors tell him he's Vincent, and he has no reason to disagree. Any discrepancy in the way he looks is dismissed as the result of reconstructive surgery after the explosion. So Clay Arlington resumes Vincent Towers' life, without knowing Clay Arlington even exists. The twist: Clay and Vincent are both white, but Vincent is played by Michael Harris, a white actor, and Clay is played by Dennis Haysbert, a Black actor. "Ian, if there's just the two of them, how do you know it's not Harris playing a Black character?" Glad you asked! It is most explicitly obvious during a scene where Vincent/Clay's surgeon-cum-girlfriend essentially bringing up phrenology to explain how Vincent/Clay couldn't possibly have murdered his father, describing straight hair, thin lips, and a Greco-Roman nose Haysbert very clearly doesn't have. But, let's be honest: we knew well beforehand that the rich-as-fuck asshole living in a huge, modern house and living it up in Arizona high society was white. Though Clay is, canonically, white, he lives an poor and underprivileged life common to Black men in America. Though the film's title officially refers to the many stitches holding Vincent/Clay's face together after the accident, "suture" is a film theory term, referring to the way a film audience gets wrapped up - sutured - in the world of the movie, choosing to forget the outside world and pretend the story is real. The usage is ironic, because the audience cannot be sutured in; we cannot, and are not expected to, suspend our disbelief that Clay is white. We are deliberately distanced. Consequently this is a movie to be thought about, not to to be felt. It has the shape of a Hitchcockian thriller but it can't evoke the emotions of one. You can see the scaffolding - "ah, yes, this is the part of a thriller where one man hides while another stalks him with a gun, clever." I feel ill-suited to comment on what the filmmakers are saying about race. I could venture a guess about the ending, where the psychiatrist, the only one who knows the truth about Clay, says he can never truly be happy living the lie of being Vincent Towers, while we see photographs of Clay/Vincent seemingly living an extremely happy life: society says white men simply belong at the top more than Black men do, but, if the roles could be reversed, the latter would slot in seamlessly. Maybe??? Of all the movies in this collection, this is the one I'd most want to read an essay on (followed by Swoon).

The Last Seduction (dnrw) No, no, no, I am not rewataching this piece of shit movie.

Brick (rw) Here's my weird contention: Brick is in color and in widescreen, but, besides that? There's nothing neo- about this noir. There's no swearing except "hell." (I always thought Tug said "goddamn" at one point but, no, he's calling The Pin "gothed-up.") There's a lot of discussion of sex, but always through implication, and the only deleted scene is the one that removed ambiguity about what Brendan and Laura get up to after kissing. There's nothing postmodern or subversive - yes, the hook is it's set in high school, but the big twist is that it takes this very seriously. It mines it for jokes, yes, but the drama is authentic. In fact, making the gumshoe a high school student, his jadedness an obvious front, still too young to be as hard as he tries to be, just makes the drama hit harder. Sam Spade if Sam Spade were allowed to cry. I've always found it an interesting counterpoint to The Good German, a movie that fastidiously mimics the aesthetics of classic noir - down to even using period-appropriate sound recording - but is wholly neo- in construction. Brick could get approved by the Hays Code. Its vibe, its plot about a detective playing a bunch of criminals against each other, even its slang ("bulls," "yegg," "flopped") are all taken directly from Hammett. It's not even stealing from noir, it's stealing from what noir stole from! It's a perfect curtain call for the collection: the final film is both the most contemporary and the most classic. It's also - but for the strong case you could make for Night Moves - the best movie on the list. It's even more appropriate for me, personally: this was where it all started for me and noir. I saw this in theaters when it came out and loved it. It was probably my favorite movie for some time. It gave me a taste for pulpy crime movies which I only, years later, realized were neo-noir. This is why I looked into Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and In Bruges. I've seen it more times than any film on this list, by a factor of at least 3. It's why I will always adore Rian Johnson and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. It's the best-looking half-million-dollar movie I've ever seen. (Indie filmmakers, take fucking notes.) I even did a script analysis of this, and, yes, it follows the formula, but so tightly and with so much style. Did you notice that he says several of the sequence tensions out loud? ("I just want to find her." "Show of hands.") I notice new things each time I see it - this time it was how "brushing Brendan's hair out of his face" is Em's move, making him look more like he does in the flashback, and how Laura does the same to him as she's seducing him, in the moment when he misses Em the hardest. It isn't perfect. It's recreated noir so faithfully that the Innocent Girl dies, the Femme Fatale uses intimacy as a weapon, and none of the women ever appear in a scene together. 1940's gender politics maybe don't need to be revisited. They say be critical of the media you love, and it applies here most of all: it is a real criticism of something I love immensely.

[hypnomicimagines]

In Another Life [Jinguji Jakurai]

You don’t know what you did to end up on the receiving end of a knife.

You had been peacefully slumbering, your parents in the next room over having finally quieted down after an extended fight that you hoped would lead to a divorce. It was a bit dark to think such things but you were a teenager now, you were beginning to understand adult issues and you could tell that there was something hovering over them causing these outbursts. Perhaps separating wouldn’t be in their best interest but you were simply tired of the yelling, of the constant negativity, of the inability to exist in your own house without having to be stressed about when the next fight was coming.

You fell asleep thinking about them but your dreams had been far more pleasant, a technicolor daydream of another life, one where you were unapologetically happy.

And then you woke up to a knife to your throat.

Your eyes met your attackers briefly, a chill coursing through your veins at that complete lack of emotion in them. You were used to being surrounded by anger and hatred, but there was something foreign about this look. It’s like his eyes (you thought it was a man, a boy, but it was rather dark) were devoid of any emotion, telling you ‘this isn’t personal’; luckily you were feeling enough emotions for both of you but remained too afraid to move, frozen in place as you lock eyes with your attacker.

What were you feeling now? Acceptance? You wished you could say goodbye to your parents. Would this mystery man at least let you do that? There are a thousand thoughts running through your head but you notice as time ticks on that he’s unmoving, that he can’t seem to tear his eyes off of you. You almost want to ask if he’s okay despite how nonsensical it would be to do so flinching when he finally moved. The knife is no longer pressed to your throat and as he’s pulling away, a sliver of moonlight drifting in through your window reveals that his hands are shaking.

Was he as scared as you were?

Was he feeling regret?

You don’t get an answer, your vision blurring before you’re left alone in your room once more. You almost think that he was simply a hallucination before you feel something wet sliding down your neck, fingers coming up to curiously feel around the area, stained red with your blood. You sat up from your bed and ripped the covers off, running screaming down the hall for your mother as you suddenly realized something bad had almost happened. The rest of the night is filled with your screams, your tears, life as you knew it ending.

You didn’t think much of it now that you were an adult.

You had a fulfilling career, owning a club of your own in Shinjuku where you often hosted costume nights and other little celebrations to give people a respite from their boring day jobs. You loved greeting all types of customers, making long-lasting friendships that might benefit you in the long-run, working until the wee hours of the morning when you finally dragged yourself home (though there was a backroom at the club that you sometimes made a temporary place of rest as you got too exhausted to walk back to your apartment). Your life had been on a steady track for such a long time you didn’t think anything else could possibly upset it, after all, what could be more senselessly tragic then finding the dead bodies of your own parents?

You had run into their room that night and thankfully, the carnage had been mostly hidden by the dark but the scent of copper hitting your nose made you realize quickly what had happened. Had that same person who ominously loomed over you killed your parents first? Or had it simply been a job done by multiple people at once? You didn’t want to think too deeply about it, for the sake of your sanity you knew you couldn’t play detective, but for many people it left a pressing question in the back of their minds.

Why did it happen? Why were you left alive?

All you knew was that you were alive. You had lived through that night, being shown some odd sliver of mercy from that dark, emotionless figure, and you weren’t going to squander what you had been given. You would live your life, unquestioning, mourning your parents but doing your best to live a life that would make them proud.

You met him one cold December night, walking down the street with an unfortunate number of shopping backs in your arms. They weren’t difficult or too heavy for you to hold but you were looking forward to being home, hoping that you’d get there soon so you could decorate your home with the new decorations you’d had. You were deep in thought when you’re suddenly bumped into by a gaggle of squealing women, eyebrow raised as you hear them speaking of some type of rap battle going on. You had been curious about the upcoming DRB, of course everyone and their mother had been talking about Matenro in Shinjuku, but you found yourself too busy to look too far into it.

But there they were.

The blonde was the number one host in Shinjuku, you’d passed the billboards countless times, and the other one was the most exhausted looking office worker you had ever seen. At first their leader, the one with long flowing hair adorned in a doctor’s coat, had his faced turned in the opposite direction, politely greeting some fans that had the courage to approach them. His mannerisms made him seem polite enough but those women were swooning, leaving you curious as to what he looked like. He had to be a bombshell, right? No one acts like that for some average joe.

And then he turns toward you, his eyes drifting through the crowd until they meet yours.

You’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

They’re different for sure, they’re no longer blank but filled with an emotion that you’re not aware of. You are, however, aware of how hard this man is staring at you now and as confident as you are in your looks, you’re pretty sure he’s recognized you as well. For a second you have to wonder if this is the end of the line, if this man is about to actually take you out since you know some rather scandalous information about him, but then again how could you ever prove it? It takes all the will power in your body to tear your eyes away from him, pushing back into the crowd that had slowly started to form around Matenro until you’d managed to sneak into an alley.

Your night continues unimpeded, thankfully no man is standing by your bedside when you wake up the following afternoon; you’re almost a little disappointed as he looked far more beautiful after all these years, you certainly wouldn’t have minded getting a house call from him. The trauma you had gone through was really rearing its ugly head with your sense of humor but it was amusing in the end to see that your potential assassin had turned his life around into not only becoming a doctor, but also a famous rapper. You almost wished you had approached him just to see what he would say, what he would do, but that plan had officially been canceled as you suspected you wouldn’t see the man again for a very long time.

That night was when he came for his first visit to your club.  

You spot him sitting at the bar and he’s rather hard to miss, not to mention he’s so recognizable that you’d have to be blind not to realize who he was. Doing a quick internet search helped you refresh your memory on his name, Jinguji Jakurai, and there were quite a few articles about what a skilled doctor he had turned out to be (as well as his past experience being in a famous rap group which was often compared to the group he was part of now). Did his teammates know who he was? Did they know what he did? Or were they just as blissfully unaware?

“Did you come back to finish the job?”

You shoo away the bartender before speaking with Jakurai, knowing this is a conversation you’d like to deal with one on one. The club wasn’t technically open yet but he must’ve talked his way inside by flashing a handsome smile; you could only imagine all the things that smile of his could get him. You don’t get to see it as he doesn’t find your joke nearly as funny as you do, almost flinching as you bring up a past he likely wants to forget about. You have to deal with the reality of that past though and so does he, regardless of how you both personally feel about it. But you’re curious as to what this visit is about, ready to call for security at any given moment should things go south.

Jakurai takes a few moments to respond, taking a sip from his grapefruit juice (you noticed the lack of alcohol in his drink right away) before he responds.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” His hands remain wrapped around his glass, Jakurai casting a contemplative glass at its contents.

“That’s fair enough because I can say the exact same thing. But… Why are you here, exactly? Did you want a thank you for not killing me? Because like thanks and all, but you still got my parents so we’re not exactly even in my book.” Another wince of pain, but he takes your shot with grace, nodding his head as you continued on. “I’m glad to see life’s been treating you so well, Doc, but mines been a mess. So what is it that you want?”

“To apologize,” Jakurai stated firmly, eyes coming to meet yours. “For all the pain that I have caused you.”

“Your apology isn’t accepted.” He’s not at all surprised which sort of pisses you off, of course this assassin rapper man has it more together than you. There are long buried emotions beginning to bubble to the surface and you consider grabbing his glass to dump the contents all over him, Jakurai removing his hands from it as though he had read your mind. But as quickly as the anger bubbled up it simmered down, your heart still hammering in your chest as you tried to regain control of your emotions. “Can you at least tell me why? Did you… Were you the one who did it?”

“…I didn’t. I don’t believe that would make you feel any better about what happened but I… You were the first person who made me truly believe that I could no longer live the life I was living.” Jakurai’s voice softened, “You were like a light in the darkness, too bright to look at yet I couldn’t bring myself to look away. I wanted to thank you as well for all that you’ve done for me but it didn’t seem right to do it in the same breath.”

“You… I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to think of this. You’re thanking me? You didn’t kill my parents but you were definitely about to kill me but you… stopped because I was some light to you? Some person who made you realize killing other people was wrong? You know how that sounds, right?”

“There’s a lot in my life I wish to atone for.” Jakurai flashed that handsome smile that had gotten him into your club early, “I don’t expect your forgiveness but it wouldn’t feel right to be reunited with you without expressing my regrets.”

He stood from the bar and placed money on the counter, straightening himself out and brushing his hair from his shoulder as he prepared to leave. It felt wrong to leave it there, to allow him to exit your life once again as quickly as he had entered it, especially when you felt you were still owed something. You reached across the bar to grab at his sleeve, tugging on it and watching as Jakurai turned around with a surprised expression on his face.

“Just.. come perform here or somethin’, okay? Get me some business and maybe I’ll start to think about forgiving you. Maybe.”

Jakurai smiled but this time it was more amused in nature, as if he didn’t expect something like that from you.

“As you wish.”

And your wishes were fulfilled.

You met Hifumi and Doppo through Jakurai, listening to them both speak highly of their leader and all that he had done for them. For all intents and purposes, it seemed he truly had turned over a new leaf, as far as they knew anyway. He hadn’t really given you any reason to doubt his change in character, even now when you look into his eyes you could tell something had changed within him, and Jakurai did uphold his promise to have Matenro perform. He even came back whenever the three of them weren’t busy, increasing publicity for the club further as now it was assumed you were good friends of the three rappers instead of just a one-off gig.

You could say that was very close to what was happening.

You were fond of Hifumi and Doppo, you always threw free drinks at poor Doppo who came in to complain about his boss and laughed at all of Hifumi’s stories that were at Doppo’s expense. Chatting with them had been much too fun for you to cut it short so you spent your nights at the club with them at their VIP table, Jakurai quietly watching the interactions between the three of you with a content expression on his face. You didn’t know how happy it made him to see the three important people in his life getting along well, you probably hadn’t even guessed how important you truly were to him just yet.

“I still see you as that light,” Jakurai confessed one night after the club had closed, not a hint of shame on his face, “However, now that I’ve gotten to know you… You’ve become so much more to me. It feels out of line to say such things after all I’ve done…”

“Yeah, it sure does.” You feel a little awkward now because you felt the exact same way, completely fascinated by this man, enamored with him like a lot of the women in his life seemed to be. Yet you were the one who got to be close to him like this, who got to sit face-to-face alone with him while he wasn’t on the job, and that had to count for something. “But you… You mean a lot more to me now, too.”

This is the first time you’ve ever seen a look of genuine surprise on his face but you quite liked the way his eyes raised and the corner of his mouth twitched, not sure if he should smile or frown at your statement. He let out a sigh but he it was out of relief more than anything, knowing he didn’t deserve even that out of you after what he had done. To find love with the one target he couldn’t kill… How many sleepless nights had he spent thinking of you, worrying over what might have become of you?

“This is like, kinda fucked up, you know? Like what type of weird way to meet is ‘I almost killed you but realized I couldn’t and now we’re in love’? Like seriously, there’s gotta be like ten trashy, poorly written romance novels about-“

You continued to ramble on nervously, knowing this hardly made sense but at the same time who cared? This was your life after all, and if you wanted a pretty doctor to kiss you to make you feel better, then you would get it! Past be damned, you were going to take this God given gift of a man and use him for all he was worth.

Jakurai’s fingers gently touch your face, running along your jaw towards the small scar, the scar he had made, before he suddenly shied away. But you don’t want him to leave, you crave his touch now, putting his hand right back where it was and looking up at him with pure determination. There were heavy sins weighing him down, resting on his shoulders, but he had only been a child himself, something that made forgiving him a little easier to swallow. You believed him when he said he hadn’t been the one to kill your parents and you believed him when he said he was remorseful for the lasting impact he had on your life.

“Jakurai, I’ve come up with a way to forgive you.”

“Is that right?” Jakurai’s smiling his beautiful ethereal smile that always causes your heart to skip a beat, “How might I be of service?”

“Kiss me.”

“I have a lifetime of mistakes to make up for,” Jakurai whispered against your lips, hands cradling your face in a loving manner, “I don’t deserve you.”

“You say that yet…” You reached over to run your fingers through his silky hair, twirling a strand of it around your finger, “I can’t account for your other mistakes but that doesn’t matter to me now. You’ve changed for the better, you save lives every day, so as long as you keep doing that… I think that I… I forgive you, Jakurai. So please, accept my heart and protect it.”

Those words he never thought he would hear finally reach his ears and he’s so filled with joy he could hardly contain himself, brief tears gathering at the corner of his eyes before he leans in to press his lips against yours. You want to pull away, to tease that he had only kissed you now because he was trying to hide the overflowing emotions he was currently dealing with, but it felt far too good to leave Jakurai’s embrace now.

If you could help it, you’d never have to live without his embrace again.