#andis thought geyser

[andi-o-geyser]

[andi-o-geyser]

fucking hell. anyways. fight the the death

[cevansbrat0007]

If GP Andy is still accepting questions...what would he say is the kinkiest thing he and his wife ever got up to? Does he have anything else left on like a sexual bucket list he wants to try?

Summary: Andrew Barber is back to answer even more of your burning questions about his relationship dynamic with his wife. This time involving his various kinks and his sexual bucket list. Written from Andy's POV. Also, check out Volume I.

Warning: the following response contains mature themes, including references to sexual kinks, ass play, role play, D/s lifestyles, spanking, blackmail, oral sex, ex-boyfriends, BDSM clubs, cursing, and more. Minors DNI.

A/N: This installment of A Word with Andy Barber also contains a brief reference to my fic, Happy Place, Interrupted. For more insight into Andrew Barber and his Baby Girl, please check out my ongoing Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

___

So, it’s recently come to my attention through Baby Girl that we’ve received another question. I say “we” because I only feel comfortable answering these with her approval. We’re a team, my princess and I, and I never want to make her uncomfortable. As with the last correspondence, I have permission to answer your questions however I see fit – provided that I remain honest and that I share my answers with my brat when I’m finished. 

No problem. Let’s dive in, shall we? 

Hmm. The kinkiest thing my wife and I have ever done. Everyone seems to have their own idea on what qualifies as kinky these days, which is fine. Just keep in mind that what works for us and our marriage may not necessarily work for you. 

It’s not a secret that Baby Girl and I are big into role-play. We do it quite a bit actually. And while I tend to be the dominant force or the aggressor in a scene, we do occasionally shake things up. Recently, Mrs. Barber took on the role of a very ambitious employee who was committed to blackmailing her boss in an effort to move up the corporate ladder. 

She had also come into several very incriminating photos as well. I mean, she threatened to tell my wife and ruin my good name in the process if I didn’t see to her needs. What choice did I possibly have but to satisfy her? 

After all, she was going to tell my wife!  

And once I let her take the reins and run the show, we both got really into it. By the way, this wasn’t just a single scene, but one of many that spanned a little over a month. We met several times at the house and at various hotels – when we could, of course.

Sometimes life gets in the way of our play. Especially when you happen to have four kids. One of the times we had a pre-planned rendezvous, we got a call that Rory threw up during recess. Which meant we had to cancel so that one of us could go pick her up from school.

Anyway, what made this game especially kinky for me was that I allowed my supposed blackmailer to take even more pictures of myself in a few rather compromising positions. Which may or may not have included a video of her…

Fingering my ass. 

I’d never had it done before. And sure we had talked it over quite a bit beforehand. My lady and I watch porn together, so we’d seen videos. I’m not saying that I plan on letting Baby Girl shove a dildo up my ass anytime soon – the concept of pegging makes my dick wilt – but the whole experience was definitely different. And once she found my prostate, I came like a fucking geyser. 

After that, she sat on my face and ordered me to eat her until she was satisfied. She recorded that as well, and even played both back for me the last time we met up, just in case I got too cocky and thought about blowing the whistle on the whole thing. 

Guess that just means that I’ll have to keep doing what my blackmailer says so she doesn’t release the goods. Again, it’s not like I have much of a choice. Right? I figure I’ll be on the hook with this one for a while. 

At least until her promised promotion comes through. 

Anyway, Baby Girl also enjoys playing the role of a bored trophy wife. Which usually makes me the resident handyman. This particular scene always starts out fairly sweet and benign, but then evolves into something altogether different. 

It’s my job to try to resist her advances. But the more I do that, the more persistent and dominant my little wife (sorry, employer) often becomes. Last time, she somehow tied me up and subjected me to the most delicious bouts of torture… 

And I enjoyed every goddamned minute of it. 

I’m telling you that I never thought I would be into situations where I wasn’t the aggressor. But with her, I do. Honestly, I feel like I could spend hours watching fucking paint dry with that woman, and she would find a way to make it a good time.

Probably because we’d end up fucking on the floor or something. Whatever. I don’t know. Let’s just blame the nonexistent paint fumes, alright? 

Moving on.

In the spirit of sharing, I will also tell you that my wife and I enjoy meeting as “strangers” at random bars so that I can pick her up . I usually let her lead in those scenarios and base my various approaches on whatever vibe she presents me with that night. My Baby Girl loves it, as do I. The only thing I don’t enjoy is when other men take it upon themselves to hit on her too.  

Because she doesn’t always wear her wedding ring when we play. Drives me up the fucking wall. But since it can sometimes be an unintended consequence of the game, I usually just force myself to grit my teeth and let that shit ride. 

After all, what those ignorant fucks don’t realize is the woman they’re tripping over themselves for already has a man – me. And one way or another, she’s going home with that man tonight – whether it’s on my arm or over my shoulder. Truthfully, I don’t much care which way she chooses. But those are my sweet little brat’s only options.  

On to the next question. It seems you’re curious about my sexual bucket list. Fair question. My wife and I occasionally frequent a certain club. As I’m sure you can gather, these types of clubs are geared towards people with particular interests.

And yes, we are both members.

Baby Girl and I go together – I wouldn’t damn let my woman set foot in there by herself. Not that she’d allow me to ever go alone either. Even though I used to before I met her. At the time it seemed like the only way to get my needs met, but in all reality, I was engaging in some serious self-discovery.

For anonymity purposes I won’t give the name of the venue, but visiting always makes for an entertaining night out. We have rules for these nights of course. One that I’ll share with you all is that she wears a collar at all times. This is a must. And she’ll earn herself a spanking if she takes it off.

I might as well go out on a limb and tell you a little more about the collar, shouldn’t I? In case you were wondering, it’s made of black leather with the words “Daddy’s Girl” embossed on the front in pink rhinestones. It was actually her idea, funny enough. She surprised me with it way back when she realized that I possessed a bit of a housewife kink.   

But back to the club. Thanks to our nights out, I’ve learned that my princess can be a bit of a voyeur. She likes to watch other people during scenes. Nothing too crazy. But knowing how wet she gets seeing people enjoying a dash of pain with their pleasure…

Just anticipating the breathy sighs and delicate whimpers that are sure to come as she clings to me, her Daddy, gets me hard as fuck. Lately, Baby Girl has expressed a serious desire to (maybe) perform while others are watching us during a scene. 

At first I was against the idea. In case you didn’t already know, I can be one hell of a possessive bastard. She and I have been together a long fucking time already and I don’t plan on changing any time soon. I just don’t. And in that same vein, I also don’t want anyone seeing my woman the way that only I have been allowed to see her. 

Look. I know she had two other partners before me, but I don’t give a fuck. I will continue to pretend like they don’t exist unless one of them feels like showing up at my front door. I’m looking at you, Malcolm Waters. Fuck around and find out again if you want to, buddy. 

That aside, I simply don’t like the idea of anyone who isn’t me knowing what Baby Girl looks like when she cums. It’s a beautiful sight that simply isn’t meant to be shared. Nor do I want them seeing her body, not when every inch of those sweet, luscious curves belong to me.

Daddy doesn’t fucking share. It is what the fuck it is. 

But since she was apparently expecting my reluctance, my Baby Girl came prepared with a compromise. What she wants instead is for me to punish her during our scene and then “force” her to suck me off as penance. I get to choose where I want to cum – be it in her mouth, on her face, or on her chest. 

I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t excite me. And if the situation proved to be too much for either one of us, we could always tap out and resume the scene again behind closed doors. But even though it’s a tentative thing, I suppose you could throw it on our list. Now, how’s that for an answer?

As always, I hope my above responses to all of your questions will continue to suffice for the time being. Thank you for being so respectful. And again, should you find yourself with more, please feel free to pass them along.    

Sincerely, Andrew Barber

[andi-o-geyser]

so this episode is off to a smashing start

[xalygatorx]

Powerless (2017) | Chapter 9, "And Hardships Unnumbered"

Years after Sarah’s wit and bravery saved her brother and brought the Labyrinth to its knees, her daughter Andie is transported to what remains of that same fantastical place, somewhere she thought only existed in her favorite childhood stories. To find her way back home, she must traverse what’s left of the crumbling kingdom, find a way to set both moments and magic in motion again, and even save the Goblin King, himself. But who will save her from him?

Powerless is a SFW slow-burn romance between Jareth and an original female character. The story overall contains descriptions of fantasy violence, mild suggestive content, and grief regarding family illness. Chapter-by-chapter warnings will be provided as well.

Summary: The group (carefully) navigates out of the Bog of Eternal Stench and Hoggle finds something interesting in the muck. As Andie and Jareth’s connection grows, Nyle takes a moment to warn her of what he’s seen of Jareth’s true nature. An interrupted leap of faith to escape more Fireys separates Andie from the rest of the group.

Pairing: Jareth x Fem!OC

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.6k

"Why do we keep falling down holes?" Leona groused as she lifted a stone paw and the green, gooey substance under their feet clung on. "And why must they smell like the giant's feet?" Ludo made a disgruntled sound nearby at that comment. She shot him a look and noted, "It is not my fault. I have small stature and you do not bathe."

"Knock it off," Jareth grunted from behind his hand. "Figure out how to get us out of here."

"What's wrong, Your Highness, can't you handle the reek of your own land?" Nyle shot his way.

"Land? Are you certain it's not you?" Jareth snarled.

Andie rolled her eyes and looked down, seeing the stretch of the swampland under them, foul vapors accompanied by indicative noises spurting from geysers smattering the gray-green water. She looked on either side of their ledge and found no immediate path from where they stood. Then something occurred to her. "Sir Didymus?"

The terrier looked at her. "Yes, my lady?"

"Aldo and Grita told me I could find you here if I wanted to talk to you," she said. "Are you normally in this place?" It was all she could do not to gag on the smell and she finally put her sleeve against her nose. Her waist throbbed from falling on her bandaged scrapes.

"This was my post some time ago," Didymus said proudly, extending his scepter from his left hand. "Over yonder, fair lady, was where I was meant to guard." That explained why he and Ambrosius were both panting freely despite the putrid environment.

"Do you know a way to get us down?" she asked hopefully.

"Hmm…," Didymus murmured as he looked around, taking note of their location. "Ah! Indeed, I do! FWAH!" With that ferocious cry, he smacked his scepter against a specific point in the wall and stone slabs slid out from the ledge, forming narrow, winding stairs. "Ah-ha! There we are!"

"Fantastic," Andie sighed with relief, following the others down the makeshift steps to the mossy ground below, where the smell only seemed to get worse. "Better would be how we get out of here…"

"Well, there was once a bridge where I took my post," Didymus said, considering the river just some yards away. "How did we manage to cross before?"

"Search me," Hoggle said sheepishly. "I went ahead."

"Shocking," Nyle snarked quietly.

"Do you remember, Ludo?" Didymus asked hopefully. The beast considered his words before seeming to smile. An echoing roar later, rocks were tumbling into and rising out of the rancid-smelling water, forming a path for them to cross. It amazed Andie how useful that ability had proved to be in a number of situations now. "Wonderful, my friend! Of course it was the rocks!"

Andie stepped onto one of the rocks and a rather damning noise squelched out of the stone. She paled and claimed, "That was not me," before taking another step and having the same sound erupt from the next stone, but higher this time. "Are you kidding me?!"

Behind her, Jareth was nearly red-faced from trying not to laugh at her reactions, at least until he stepped onto a stone, himself, and received the same treatment. Andie turned to look at him and, upon witnessing his indignant expression, lost her composure entirely. "I am the king of this land, how dare they," he noted as he stepped forward and another flatulent sound boomed in the air. He shot a glare toward Andie and noted, "Laugh all you please, but I'd recommend not falling into the water while you do."

"I wasn't planning on it. I'm assuming the 'Eternal Stench' part rings true?" she said as she worked her way across.

"Indeed, it does," he noted with his sleeve back over his nose. "And I would absolutely hate to have to keep you at arm's length."

"On second thought…"

"Am I really so repulsive?" he wondered with a falsely dismal air, placing his hand over his heart as he stepped off the last rock, Andie already on the other side.

"You're something, all right," she remarked, watching the others work their way across.

"I shall take that as a compliment, my lady," Jareth said with a smirk, though she couldn't help but notice that there was a certain edge to the endearment that Didymus' own uses of the phrase lacked. She just couldn't place what it might be.

While she was deep in thought, she heard a sudden yip of surprise and snapped back to reality to see Didymus knocked off balance from his saddle after Ambrosius took a particularly sloppy jump between the last two rocks. Before she could even think of how to react, Jareth had reached forward and snatched the terrier out of mid-air, just inches shy of hitting the bubbling bog water. Didymus looked jarred when he was set down on the ground, his breath leaving him in small, startled puffs. "Oh, I, th-thank you, Your Highness," he stuttered and Andie wasn't sure whether the near-fall or Jareth's help had shocked him more.

Jareth only inclined his head a fraction and then turned to lead the way from the edge of the Bog. Andie and the others followed, but as she was looking over the group, she found they were one short. She turned around and saw Hoggle lingering by the edge of the Bog, attempting to reach something while holding his bulbous nose shut. "Hoggle?"

"Almost… Got it… There!" he said triumphantly, turning around. Between his fingers was a small dirt-splotched cog that shone gold when he swiped off the debris. "What do you reckon it is?"

"It looks like a gear," she murmured, kneeling down to look at it. "What would it be doing in a place like this?"

"I don't know," he declared. "But I'm keeping it."

She smiled, remembering the collection of shiny trinkets he had. "Okay. Let's catch up with the others."

After escaping the Bog of Eternal Stench, it seemed that the more they walked, the less they knew where they were. Andie tried getting on Ludo's shoulders again to get a view of the landscape, but a dense fog had draped over their sector of the Labyrinth and there was little they could do to evade it without moving forward. So, that was exactly what they did. At least until their hunger grew nearly unbearable and weariness set in.

The only one who didn't seem fazed by this was Jareth and Andie wondered why until she remembered he'd been down in the oubliette for millennia without sustenance and had only survived because of time's ceasing to exist. He'd locked eyes with starvation a thousandfold, way past what anyone should ever experience, because he could not die. Just the thought of the toll it should have taken on his mental state made her shudder. He glanced over the others before noting, "I am going on ahead."

"Just going to leave us, eh?" Nyle remarked coldly. "Same as ever."

"You lot, perhaps," Jareth noted flippantly. He placed one gloved hand on Andie's head as he passed her to head down the path, "This one, I'll be back for." Andie smiled faintly as Jareth left them, leaning against the wall and trying not to think about food or water, as their jug had run empty just a short time ago.

"You know, he liked me once, too." Andie looked over and saw Nyle moving to stand against the wall next to her, all charcoal skin and glittering teeth towering over her. "It does not last. Trust me."

"You two don't seem to get along," she agreed, not naysaying either involved party.

He smirked sardonically. "Friend, then lover, then heir, then court jester, slave…," he murmured with a dark edge to his tone and a snarl in his lip. "Then finally nothing. It doesn't just end, it lessens until it ceases to exist by itself. Just be prepared, that's all I have to tell you."

"I'm sorry, Nyle. That sounds awful. But we're not, uh, involved," Andie said quietly. "I don't think there's much to worry about there."

Nyle looked at her dubiously. "You think so. Keep thinking it. You'll save yourself some humiliation at least."

"I'm serious, I'm trying to find my way back to my world, there's nothing going on."

"The way you two looked at each other while you were dancing said otherwise," he said pointedly, making Andie flush. "But what do I know, right?" With that, he moved away from the wall, going to stand off on his own. Andie pondered his words, feeling sorry for him if it was all true. Though what reason did he have to lie to her? He clearly didn't want Jareth back, so he wouldn't feel threatened by her. The more she thought about it, there really was no conceivable reason for him to fill her head with doubts.

Friend. Lover. Heir. Jester. Mocked in front of the entire court after being named its next leader. What a horrid thing to do, she thought, feeling a little sick as she wondered if the man she'd come to be rather fond of—as that was all she was allowing herself to admit at this point—was more-so the Goblin King everyone else seemed to fear.

"The jungle is just ahead." His voice suddenly came from directly beside her and startled her so noticeably, he gave her a suspicious look before looking back toward the others. "If we do not hurry, we may miss it."

"No time to waste then," Leona said, rising as they all filtered into the next winding path, following Jareth through a careful series of turns until they saw the free-moving section of the maze, for the moment caught on the edge of a dead end blown to smithereens. They crossed the small gap between and fell silent as they warily looked for Fireys, all while hoping there was food somewhere around. Hoggle had to hold Didymus back with one large hand over his mouth as he was likely to rush in with a war cry at the first chance he got.

They were still barely creeping forward when Nyle waved for their attention and pointed toward a tree a short distance away. The tree was brimming with succulent-looking pink and orange fruits, much like the coloration of the Fireys, which made Andie a bit nervous. However, the others seemed to think they were safe, so she went ahead with Jareth, Nyle, Leona, and Ludo to retrieve them while Hoggle kept Didymus from blowing their cover. That was, if it wasn't already blown.

"Where are they?" she whispered to Jareth, who shrugged. A moment later, he tugged on a lock of her hair and, with obvious forethought, put a hand over her mouth before she could snap at him, pointing to their right. She followed his gesture and saw a doused fire pit through what was left of the fog, surrounded by sleeping Fireys. Some of them were missing limbs and one had its head in its lap, but they were all resting. Now the only trouble was not waking them. "We should hurry."

"Indeed," he said quietly, looking up at the limb holding the bunch of fruits. "What will we put them in?"

"It would be more efficient to take the whole bunch," Nyle noted. "Still have that dagger, Andie?"

"Whether I want it or not," she murmured, as it always seemed to come back to her.

"Come here." When she'd moved over, he picked her up and hoisted her as high as he could, which was impressively high with the length of his limbs and body. "Ludo, be ready to catch it." When Ludo was in position, she began to saw at the stem.

"Hurry!" Leona hissed.

"I'm working on it," Andie gritted softly, halfway through the thick plant.

"TO THE DEATH WITH YE, COWARDS!"

"Oh, no," Leona growled.

"Oh, shit," Andie muttered when she looked over and saw Didymus making a beeline toward the Fireys, wielding his staff high just before bringing it down on one hot pink feathery head. She sawed faster and the bunch of fruit fell off the tree into Ludo's waiting hands just as the insufferable creatures began to rouse and shriek. "Hoggle, I thought you had it handled!"

"Ambrosius was supposed to watch him while I got another one of these, uh, gears!" He was over by another tree and held up another small golden cog that seemed to gleam on its own in the overcast light.

"You left the job to a sheepdog?!"

"Argue later, let's go!" Nyle snapped as he put Andie down and sprinted for the pathway. Leona and Ludo were close behind.

Andie jammed the dagger back through her belt loop as she hurried behind them, Jareth hesitating halfway between the others and her. She ran faster and felt a weight hit her stomach when she saw that the gap between the Labyrinth and the jungle had widened, the black nothingness of the voids spattering the maze stretching between. She hesitated, hearing the racket of the Fireys and turning just in time to see Didymus and Ambrosius charge forward, leaping past them to get across.

"Get going!" Jareth shouted at her in frustration, looking over his shoulder to be sure they weren't in danger yet.

"I don't know if I can, do you see how wide that is?!"

"You have to trust yourself, Andie, you can't get anywhere without that," he told her frustratedly, shaking his head as the brush began to rustle more nearby. Giving up on his short-lived motivational speech, Jareth stepped toward her. "Or at least trust me this once. Can you do that?"

She parted her lips to speak, but was at a loss for words until she heard herself say, "Yeah… I think so." She just couldn't wrap her mind around the distance; logically, her legs couldn't propel her that far. The other gap she'd jumped had seemed so minimal compared to this.

"That's enough, then," he murmured and put an arm around her waist. "Ready? We'll run on three." She nodded shakily as he began to count for them both. "One… Two… Three!"

They both ran forward just as the Fireys rushed through the trees and bushes, cackling and shrieking madly, some of them mismatched and in absolute disarray. When they reached the edge, Jareth jumped, pulling her along with him and they'd made the first half of their arc to the other side when Andie felt something latch onto her leg. The shock of added weight pulled her out of Jareth's grasp and she and the Firey who had jumped them both fell down into the void.

Jareth was off-kilter when he hit the other side, rolling once when he fell to the stone, realizing only when he dropped that he was alone. He scrambled upright and ran toward the edge again, only to be stopped by Leona and Nyle. "Unhand me!"

"She's gone!" Nyle shouted as Jareth threw his arm out from in front of him, knocking him back. "Who knows where she went or if you'll even end up in the same place!"

If looks could kill, Jareth would have lain waste to the whole of his kingdom, his fury only redirected when the Firey that had pulled Andie off him fell out of a void plastered across a tree back in the jungle, tumbling out as its colleagues keened. They all waited for Andie to appear as well, almost hoping she wouldn't so she wouldn't be trapped with those creatures, but a sense of despair set in when there was no sign of her. "Where could she have gone?"

Nyle sighed, for once looking at a complete loss. "In this place… Who knows?"

Next chapter: Chapter 10, "Reorderment of Time"

[rachel-blue]

2022.

What a year of returning back to where we needed to be. It’s been a year full of reconnecting with family and friends and music (including the very aptly timed Army of Freshmen show a few weeks after our return to the west coast). A year full of yarn and books read in the hammock and sunshine and NO ICE STORMS. I made it back to the river with my mom (and briefly questioned why I’m working a desk job still, but then remembered I have a mortgage to pay), and also added a few new states to my list (WY, MT, and VT, as well as transits through ID and NH) and a new country (Germany!). Looking forward to getting back on track next year and shifting focus to home renovations, weekend trips out-of-state, and a nice not-so-lil’ raise on my paycheck!

2022 Highlights:

Home Owners. It’s many years after I thought this milestone would come about, but I’m so glad that purchasing a house brought us back to Vegas. (Though, let’s be real, I would’ve clawed my way out of Texas regardless of whether we were buying or not). It’s definitely a starter home and has some work to be put into, but it’s ours and I’m excited to see where we take those renovations this year.

Mary Jones Soda. I could care less to consume anything cannabis-based, but I sure do love seeing my photos on bottles! Jones hit me up for their inaugural run of Mary Jones Soda to use not one, but THREE of my photos (including one of my favorite Route 66 stops - Twin Arrows)! We were able to track down all three early on in the CA release schedule, and they’ve now joined my other Jones bottles on display in the house.

Yellowstone. The national park, not the show. After a year with my current company, I had the opportunity to hop on a trip from San Francisco out to Yellowstone (with a very, uh, exciting stopover in Salt Lake City). Bison and geysers and fresh air aplenty. West Yellowstone is quite the tourist town, but the national park is a special spot and I’d love to experience the Upper Loop the next time I make it up that way.

Remember, remember. A lot of our energy, finances, and mental focus was dedicated to our wedding this November, and what a day it was. I’m so glad we stuck with doing exactly what we wanted with this day, from the venue choices, to the band, to our photographers. I actually found myself wishing we had a few more hours to go when our reception was wrapping up. Highly recommend planning your wedding for you and not for anyone else.

Okay, tschüss! We decided to spend our honeymoon exploring the German Christmas Markets, rather than escape to some tropical destination on the beach. It was a week full of glühwein, brats, Christmas pyramids, cobblestone streets, and also some very somber historical visits. We brought home a couple Herrnhut stars to light our windows during the holiday season and a renewed appreciation for mulled alcohol.

Books read this year: 134

‘22 playlist (in no particular order): Andy Grammar - “Joy” Army of Freshmen - “Condition Christine” End Transmission - “Talking in Circles” Frank Turner - “Haven’t Been Doing So Well” Pitbull & Zac Brown Band - “Can’t Stop Us Now” Elvis Presley - “Viva Las Vegas” Amigo The Devil - “I Hope Your Husband Dies” Streetlight Cadence - “Rooftops” (Midnight Version) Wham! - “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” Goldfinger - “99 Red Balloons” Wolves of Glendale - “Olivia”

[2021. 2020. 2019. 2018. 2017. 2016. 2015. 2014. 2013. 2012. 2011. 2010.]

[dmsden]

Unnatural by Nature - Making your game setting feel fantastic

Hullo, Gentle Readers. This week’s Question from a Denizen comes to us from thedeadhandofseldon (amazing name). They ask, “Hi Andy, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on making D&D settings feel fantastic - how you describe the world the PCs are passing through so your players actually have a sense that this is a magical world. I've been trying to do this by making reference to magical non-monstrous creatures, like awakened shrubs and phase spiders, but it never seems to really work, somehow. How do you make the world around the PCs feel magic?”

This is kind of a funny one for me, deadhand, because I actually spend most of my time trying to make my world seem realistic!

I had a conversation with a friend a while back in which he essentially asked me why most fantasy worlds seemed so grounded in reality. Why wasn’t north down on a map, or why wasn’t the sky red? My answer to him can be paraphrased similarly to a comment Syndrome makes in The Incredibles: “When everything is special, nothing is.”

Yes, you can have a world where waterfalls all go up, or rain is made of puppies, or water is purple. The trouble is, if you make all of it fantastic, your players will completely lose their sense of wonder, because it’s too much. Without a solid basis in reality, your players won’t know what they’re supposed to find fantastic and unusual. So my first piece of advice in making a world feel magical is to try and make the world feel very ordinary a good deal of the time. Once you have a solid baseline, then you can start to show what makes it magical.

Weather is an excellent way to show the fantasy elements of the world. I’ve written an article about some of the unusual weather phenomena that occur in my campaign world. It’s important not to overuse them, but dropping in something unusual...like massive clockwork clouds spinning through the sky, stormclouds that growl with the voices of giants or Primordials, times when the sky goes golden with the radiance of the Upper Planes, or a sky that churns like maggoty meat with the presence of the Far Realm...will go a long ways towards reminding the players that this is not the world they live on when they’re not playing the game.

Flora and fauna are good things to use, but, again, it’s important to employ the fantasy sparingly. Start with mundane creatures and encounters, such as a herd of cows being driven across a field by a shepherd, the songs of sparrows, or ducks on a pond. Then, when a crystal swan rises from the surface of the water, sails serenely across it as the ducks fall silent and give it a wide berth, and then lowers gracefully below the water again, your players will take notice. Or have a single sheep stray too close to a Gallows Tree, much to the shepherd’s alarm. A vine snakes down, catches it around the neck, and there’s a brief struggle as it’s hauled off its feet, disappearing into a thickness of foliage above.

I find that ancient landmarks and fantasy-based natural features not only play up the curious nature of the setting, but they give a chance for people with knowledge type skills to pull them out and shine. Why are the ruins of that ancient temple haunted by living spells? Why is there a massive blasted badlands littered with stone weapons made to fit the hands of humanoids hundreds of feet tall? Why does this desert have a massive canyon in it that’s filled with a constant blizzard? Why does lava emerge from this geyser-like hole and slowly ascend into the sky, forming a molten ring around the planet? These kinds of features can not only play up the fantastic nature of the world, but, through Arcana, History, Nature, and Religion checks, they can tell players something about the world you’ve created.

I hope this advice is useful to you, deadhand. If you have more specific questions, definitely reach out. Until next week, may the dice fall ever in your favor.

[grimey--gal]

Can you make a mini story where Andy is down and Chucky consoles him?

Here ya go

Chucky knows a lot of things, although he doesn’t always show it. He knows how to fix leaks in drains and what season Ursa Major and Ursa Minor will be at their brightest; he knows how to cut and sew cloth at just the right angles to make trim for Christmas or other decorations, and he knows how to distinguish the brown recluse from the harmless barn funnel weaver. He knows what time the mail comes in every day, and what time the trash needs to be taken out. He knows how to separate clothes in the wash, and how to blow glass, and how to play piano – even though his hands are a little small for him to brave Rachmaninoff (who loved to use octaves, and he knows about those too).

There’s also a lot of things he knows about Andy Barclay, whom he keeps a special eye on – although he won’t show that all the time either. He studies and memorizes Andy in the same way he does anything else, except with a little more care and attention, but just enough so that it goes unnoticeable to anyone but himself, which is the way he likes it to be. He knows that Andy can sing when he puts his heart into it, and writes poems in dactylic meter (Accented syllable, two unaccented syllables, accented syllables, two unaccented syllables, and so on, and so on). He knows that Andy is quiet and likes to be alone, but not too alone (or he becomes overwhelmed and frightened of himself), and tires quickly of small talk and social excursions (where as he can stay on and on for hours on end, bantering and chattering if allowed). He knows that Andy has a weakness for sweet drinks and sweet talk, and can be conned into just about anything if either of those are used for bargaining. He knows when Andy gets up for work, and he knows when Andy comes home again, traipsing up the stairs and wearily tumbling into the apartment just above the shop he owns. The shop where he sells guns and their ammo, although Andy is not really the type to fight. He knows that Andy is docile by nature, eager to please and easily made anxious or stressed, should things turn sour.

He knows that Andy is most definitely home too early today, and that settles strangely inside him.

Firstly, the way he tumbles in is different from most days. Andy is tired every day, but today, it is a different sort of tired. The kind that makes the hands shake and the head ache and the heart quake. He’s a good three or four hours early, and he comes in with a rush, almost as if he could not wait to escape. He knows that Andy finds work overwhelming sometimes, but never enough so that he should hate it, at least not with the intensity he seems to hate it right about now.

He turns his head from the television, where he had been (ashamedly, he usually changes the channel before the normal time Andy returns) watching the Food Network because this particular recipe for twice-baked potatoes has caught his eye, and he had wanted to try it for himself (because he was bored, and it isn’t as if he has anything else to do, anyways). The more he indulges himself in this sort of hobby, the less he indulges himself in less favorable ones, and he is finding that wielding knives in the kitchen has a much more satisfying result.

Secondly, Andy’s eyes are different from most days. Andy smiles more now, but there is still a consistent, lingering sadness in them, one that he knows he had a part in putting there, and is determined to find a way to erase and erase and erase. But today, the sadness is intense, almost on the verge of combustion, he can see it from how the light seems to reflect so much brighter from them than usual.

He knows that Tiffany would never let him forget it if he ever told her he could judge Andy’s emotions just from the way his eyes reflected. So he knows to never tell her.

Thirdly, Andy is quieter than he usually is. While, in public, amongst a crowd or even two or three friends, he doesn’t say too much, when he is home, he talks quite a bit. Even now, just coming in the door, he would usually call out a greeting, followed by a slew of examples of how work went, ended with the question of how his day was. This time, Andy says nothing, and, almost as if he were avoiding him, makes his way for his room, rather than stopping at the couch. Chucky is momentarily grateful – now he has enough time to change the channel before being caught at falling into a traditional housewife persona. But then the uneasiness resettles in his stomach, and he follows Andy with his eyes, curious and concerned.

You’re home early, he wants to say. But he knows that Andy is clearly upset, and he knows that this will only upset him more. So instead, he asks, “Was work bad today?” and leaves it at that; no sarcasm, no mocking words, no underlying condescension, the way he usually would. He knows that now is not the time nor the place.

Andy stops in his tracks, which is coincidentally just after the couch’s arm. If he noticed the previous channel Chucky had been on, he does not say. Chucky knows that his mind is probably very far away presently.

“A bit,” Andy says, but he doesn’t say much else, and it is evident that there are things that he is not saying that he should.

Chucky could very well leave it. With his sharp demeanor, there is no doubt that he could botch this up very much and very quickly. But he sees Andy’s hands shaking just before they’re hidden in his pockets, and he knows that now is not the time for his fear nor his pride – although he very seldom makes decisions without consulting one (or both) of these aspects.

Very quickly, he takes Andy’s still exposed wrist in a small but firm grip. Quickly enough so that he doesn’t lose his nerve. He knows it takes him less than three seconds to find himself disgusted at how soft he’s become for the man in front of him, and so he gives himself only a second before he makes his move. Before he can even think to lose himself.

“Sit down,” is what he says, and Andy, surprisingly, obeys. He isn’t quite sure if it is the tone of voice that he took, or if Andy is just overwhelmingly exhausted. He assumes the latter. He keeps his grip on Andy, although the hand is now fully out in the open, and he can catch Andy’s fingers in between his, if even just to steady them a little bit.

Chucky knows that Andy is not one to cry much. Neither is he. They relate on this subject, at the very least. They would both rather sleep it away, or push it down so deep that it’s akin to a hidden spring, one you’d find in a deep cave while exploring. It’s dangerous because it only eventually comes puffing up one day in the way a geyser does, suddenly and with enormous power.

Now does not seem like a geyser is on the rise. Andy looks away, not mentioning the way their hands are so close, closer than they usually are, and the way their pulses are connected, even though one beats at a much more rapid pace. Chucky can feel the way Andy wants to leave; he’s frightened of the consequences of being vulnerable, and he can’t blame him. Were he Andy, he would not want to be exposed to someone like himself either.

Andy fidgets, kicking his foot around against the rug (which is old and torn, and Chucky is sure Andy has scuffed it under his shoes plenty of times before), when he finally decides to speak again.

“What do you need?”

He can hardly recognize his own voice, really. The last time he had been so gentle was when he had tried to woo Tiffany back, and it had failed. In his defense (and in hers), it had been after they’d tried and failed several times to find love in each other again. It’s almost a whisper, because he’s afraid of his own voice, he’s afraid that he’ll sound too rough, too jagged, and that he’ll scare Andy away, and all of this will be for nothing.

All of this being him holding Andy’s hand. But for him, it is a very big step indeed. He’s almost shaking himself, from the sheer amount of humility and selflessness it took. He is reminded, once again, of how much more Andy deserves than him, and tries to steel himself against another long trip through guilt and self-depreciation.

“I…” Andy is struggling himself, he can hear it in his voice, in the way it shakes. He can feel the way his heart stutters, the way his fingers still quake in his hand. There is already a hidden guilt of his own creeping its way across his cheekbones, and Chucky wants to push him, wants to ask what could be so embarrassing, but if he were in Andy’s place, he would want no pushing involved. So he waits instead, until Andy finally finishes what he had started to say, slowly and quietly, voice trembling:

“It’s stupid. But I had to leave. I couldn’t…” Chucky believes for a moment that he will finish, unprompted. But Andy just stops talking, and stares at the television, eyes bright. A little too bright.

Chucky faces the television too, but only because he can’t stand to look at Andy when he squeezes his hand. He can’t see Andy’s reaction to his silent comfort, because it will be too much.

“I won’t think it’s stupid,” he says, although he’s sure he might. But he wouldn’t tell Andy that it was. There are things that are not menial to him but he is sure they are to Andy, and Andy never complains. He recalls more than one embarrassing moment where he’d lost himself, despite his greatest efforts to not do so, and the way Andy would always, always, calmly come through for him.

Andy takes a deep breath, and Chucky feels himself doing the same. Then, there’s a soft sigh, and Andy says, “I wanted to come home.”

Chucky snorts before he realizes that he’s done exactly what Andy thought he would.

“I told you you’d think it’s stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” he responds, but Andy is eyeing him reproachfully.

“You just laughed at me,” he says, hurt but not hurt enough that Chucky feels bad. He knows that Andy finds it somewhat humorous that he had laughed just after he had said he would not be demeaning. He can feel it in the way that Andy’s hand has already stopped shaking, the endless quivering faded away to a steady tremor of his heart.

“Everyone wants to go home from work, Andy,” he says. He knows that Andy’s explanation was not the full one. He knows that he is right when the color on Andy’s cheeks only heightens.

“Chucky,” Andy says, and his voice is so soft, and so vulnerable, and Chucky does not know what to do in these kinds of situations, and so he keeps quiet.  

He does know what to do. He just doesn’t think he can do it. He keeps ahold on Andy’s hand, and focuses on the television, and he waits for Andy to open up again, slow and in his own time.

“I wish I knew why – I just got so overwhelmed.”

Chucky knows what a panic attack is. He has suffered them before, and has suffered them alone before. He’s also fallen prey to them back in the times when it was just he and Tiffany and Eddie, three vagabonds running wild in the night, committing petty crimes and eventually worse. He knows how the air seems to fall out of your lungs, and how you just cannot seem to breathe fast enough, and the brain short-circuits because nothing is connecting or working as it should be, and he knows how all that can just make things worse. He knows the cycle has to be broken.

He knows Andy has had them too, late at night, waking up panting and running to the kitchen to drink and to groan in misery. He knows Andy must have had one just now, and he is still waving off the side effects. He is surprised that Andy is not resorting to a drink now.

“Do you need a drink?” he asks, gesturing towards the beer on the coffee table. He had just cracked it open, so he knows it should still be cold, and full enough to at least bring Andy’s panicking to a pause. He is again taken aback when Andy does not take the offer, and shakes his head instead.

“No, I…” Andy stops. But his body wavers, and leans Chucky’s direction, and he doesn’t need to say it, because Chucky knows. He knows what Andy needs. He also knows he has two choices. He can either just give Andy what he needs with no trouble, and they can move on, or he can make a fuss because he feels embarrassed about it, and cause a commotion.

Andy whimpers, and he makes his choice. He leans back against the couch arm, tugging at Andy’s arm. “Well, c’mere then,” he murmurs, looking towards the television, face heating. He knows he shouldn’t be ashamed, but he is. Andy shivers at his touch, still wavering, as if he is unsure. He pulls harder until Andy finally falls on top of him, heavy and weary. Chucky can feel himself sinking into the couch, but he does not dare move. The television blares on. He wishes he had not left the volume so high up. It is as if he can feel Andy’s anxiety coursing inside himself.

Andy adjusts his head slightly, and he now has learned something new: he now knows that Andy’s head under his chin is one of the best feelings he has ever felt. He can feel Andy’s heartbeat slowly settling against him, his breath evening and deepening, almost as if he were falling asleep. The only giveaway that he is awake is that his eyes are still open, mindlessly watching the colors that cross the screen.      

Chucky knows about oxytocin, and how it slips inside the bloodstream and how it comes from the pituitary gland. He knows how it’s used for different purposes, and he knows that it is released during moments of closeness, such as right now, as he wraps his arms around Andy, who has settled on top of him.  He knows that he and Andy both are more than likely releasing it now. He knows that it can calm and soothe, and he doesn’t like to think too highly of himself when it comes to his importance to Andy, but he cannot help but think that maybe he is this very stimulation for Andy. Calming, soothing, even though he is anything but by nature; he is wild and chaotic and all the things that should leave Andy running for the hills, and yet it is he that Andy chooses to rest his head on, close his eyes, and breathe until it is not such a difficult thing to do anymore.

And he knows that that is the nicest thing of all to know.

[andi-o-geyser]

The latest episode of Game Changer is a must-watch

[ginasneesby]

September- Viv and Andy part 3

The next 3 days were set aside for a road trip, one I had done before and would do another 2 times this year, and yet could easily do it many more times. We headed out south of Auckland to Waitomo to go to the glow worm caves, however we decided to be a bit more adventurous than just sitting in a boat opting instead to fling ourselves off underground waterfalls. From Waitomo we drove over to Rotorua which is well known for geothermal sites, but also the best place to go to tap into Maori culture and fill your bellies at a hangi. Matamata is a short drive from Rotorua and is the film site for Hobbiton from the Lord Of The Rings and Hobbit movies. Since the Hobbit, it was rebuilt in sustainable material including the bridge, mill and pub meaning the tours involved a bit less imagination and more wishing you were a hobbit.

We had booked our black water rafting cave experience for the afternoon to give us time to drive down, the traffic leaving Auckland is notoriously crappy but it being a Thursday I was hopeful we wouldn’t get stuck. Waitomo is about 3 hours drive from Auckland so we drove straight to the company head quarters to get booked in, there are a number of different tours with increasing varieties of climbing, abseiling and tight squeezes. I am not really a fan of small spaces so was only comfortable with the ‘black labyrinth’ option which involved water and waterfalls and floating along on a rubber tube. We had an air bnb only down the road, but as we arrived in good time we had to leave all our stuff in the car and used the half hour or so we had to have a light lunch; not knowing what to expect we didn’t wanna eat too much in case we brought it back up all over the Ruakuri cave interior. The first job after booking in was to size ourselves up for our wetsuits, this consisted of standing outside the wetsuit cabin while the guys who were gonna take us round looked at us and chose by eye, I’m gonna say there’s less insulting ways to pick the size of suit but there you go. The suits weren’t really washed in between uses but they were sprayed down or dunked in water, so it was great to be reminded not to pee in the suits so you won’t be sitting in a wee soup for your tour. This doesn’t, however, mean you won’t be sitting in the previous persons wee soup which is a lovely thought. We were given socks and a jacket over the wetsuit to keep us warm, reminding us that it’s our body warmth that provides the heat so everything not covered will be chilly, including the fingers we’ll be using to grip the walls; good to know.

So wetsuits on, and ready to start our adventure we took a group photo of everyone on our tour, this consisted of me Viv and Andy and two other women so a nice, small group of which we were the majority. We drove down to where the entrance to the cave was which I recognised from my previous visit, parked up in the car park and headed to a pile of rubber rings so we could choose our own; these will be used to float along in some sections of the cave where the water was deep enough. Before entering the cave we stopped by a small patch of river which had a little wooden jetty sticking over it and were told the best way to not be shocked by the cold water was to acclimatise ourselves here, this meant getting in so that we could start warming up the water in our suits. What we didn’t realise, was that when they said get in the water here they meant jumping backwards onto your rubber rings, oh and by the way we’re going to take photos of you as you jump. We took our turns sticking our bums in our rubber rings and jumping backwards into the water, as expected it was pretty cold; the photos are very funny.

The entrance to the cave was back past the car park and through some bush, we had to climb over some rocks and down into a little divot which had a pretty small hole into the ground. At this point I was quite nervous as I do get a bit claustrophobic and I thought despite them saying that it’s not too tight most of the time actually this was beyond what I can handle. However as soon as you get into the entrance it opens out and after a few low ceilings at the beginning the rest of the tour is narrow but tall, high ceilings with all the glowworms above you making it a lot more manageable. We carried the rubber rings ourselves which were quite useful as a buffer so we didn’t knock into the walls but it did put us a little bit off balance trying to walk around in the dark with the water rushing over the rocks at our feet, we had head torches so we could see where we were going but it was still a little bit tricky. The water was cold and your hands remained cold the whole time (really useful for grabbing hold of things) but once your body warmed up what was in your wet suit it was actually quite pleasant. The tour lasted about two hours, we walked some parts and were able to float some parts and then we had three waterfalls to jump off, they were only about five or 6 foot high but you had to put your bum in your ring (woof) like last time and jump backwards. The tour guides had torches and advised you on an angle but basically you just had to jump and hope that you didn’t smack into the wall. I loved it, jumping off stuff is totally my bag but Viv was not so keen and upon reflection decided not to jump but did then get to climb down the waterfall which I’m sure had its own challenges and splosh in at the bottom.

At one point we stopped in a fairly narrow area and the tour guides gave us some chocolate fish which are pink marshmallow covered in chocolate, New Zealand staple sweets; a nice little sugar hit to continue the tour. Later we came to the area where the normal cave tour comes through and we could see high above people gathered on the walkway with their guides torches on the glow worms. Towards the end of the tour, after our last waterfall jump we were told to stay in our rings and link ourselves together by putting our boots under the armpits of the person in front of us. The guides then pulled us along and through an area which was absolutely covered with glow worms. We had to be really quiet like on the normal tour so that we don’t disturb them, they have issues with sound and vibration I imagine, so we floated underneath in complete silence looking up at the high ceiling that was covered in the lights; amazing. We were nearing the exit of the Cave and could see the light from outside, so the guides told us from there we were on our own, just keep going towards the daylight. We all made our way towards the light and eventually found our way out, some people swimming, some people walking and some people floating. We took one last group photo by the exit and then walked back to the bus to be taken back to HQ, once there we had to strip off all of our wet water gear and were provided a hot shower to warm up although these were still semi outdoors so not overly warm. We dunked our wetsuits in some freezing cold water and then hung them back up, that was the cleaning they had so seriously please don’t pee in your suit. We then made our way inside where we had a complimentary cup of tea, bowl of soup with a fresh bread roll. Our tour guides had been taking some photos as we went round, for obvious reasons we couldn’t take our cameras or phone, and they offered us the package to buy the pictures which we split between us. Most of the photos are us in the dark with a surprise super bright flash so we all look a bit dazed but it’s a good reminder of what we went through and managed to achieve which was pretty cool.

Our Airbnb for the night was just down the road, a hut with a number of rooms of which we have one to share between the three of us. However no one else was booked in, so we had the place to ourselves. We had a bit of food that I had brought from home and some hot showers which we all now craved before settling down for dinner and a movie. Viv being the 1st to go for a shower noticed that there were a few spiders in the bathroom, none of us are fans of spiders so we needed to do something about this, when I say a few they were about 20 and all webbing their way across the shower ready to eat whoever was brave enough to step inside. So we sent Andy in, and I’m sorry to say one spider massacre later we were able to have showers. There was a selection of DVDs at the cabin one of which was a famous New Zealand film that I haven’t seen yet, although not overly joyful it’s a great film, so spider massacre and ‘once were warriors’ is the main memory of that accommodation.

The next morning we drove to Rotorua, to our accommodation ‘the funky green Voyager’, booked by Viv, quickly dropped off stuff and headed to Te Puia for a full day of activities. Te Puia is a geothermal site in the Whakarewarewa valley also known as Te Whakarewarewatangaoteopetauaawahiao, which they challenge you to say on your way in. We had tickets for Te Ra and Te Po which meant we had the day to walk the paths stopping at mud pools, steaming vents and the largest geyser in the Southern Hemisphere and at night we had a show and hangi to look forward to. One of the highlights was definitely the kiwi conservation house, kiwis are nocturnal so it is kept dark inside during the day so visitors can see the birds awake. Te puia is part of a national programme to protect and breed kiwis, they are kept behind sound proof glass with natural vegetation that mimics the nz bush and stops them being disturbed. We saw north island brown kiwis which are the most common and bigger than you’d think, about the size of a chicken. They stomp loudly through vegetation and snuffle and snort their way along the floor, they also have big bums and can’t fly which means since nz was colonised and kiwi eating mammals started to come ashore their numbers have declined; they’re quite easy to track. Sad face

Te puia is also home to the Maori arts and craft school where young Maori students can learn wood, bone and stone carving (including pounamu jade) so the history of their people and the crafts handed down over generations is not lost. We were able to walk around the school, above the workshops and see some of the amazing art the students were working on, with simple tools and complicated techniques the products are fantastic.

Towards the evening we were ushered into the Marae, which is the Maori meeting house, where historically the culture is to be celebrated. You gather outside and wait to be invited in, this is where large, burly Maori men come at you with spears and fire to test your grit, if they like you they’ll offer you a leaf or branch and an older woman from the family with perform a karanga meaning you are welcome to enter. Inside we were treated to a wonderful show including Maori music, song, Hakka, poi and even a chance to get up and learn ourselves. Then the hangi feast (pork, potato, kumara and fish all cooked in the earth oven for the last few hours) we stuffed our faces from this delicious banquet and were surprised to learn the evening wasn’t finished. We were offered a ride in their vehicles (almost a petite train) down to the geysers to sit under the stars, on naturally heated stone seats and even enjoy some hot chocolate. Had I eaten even one potato less I would have had space for the hot choc, but enjoyed the sitting and geysers by night very much.

The next day was the part of the trip I was most looking forward to, how I had managed to save myself in nine months from going to Hobbiton I don’t know, but I had a feeling I would be going quite a lot with my visitors so I managed to stop myself. The Sun was shining, the sky was blue and we were booked on a lunchtime tour which included a buffet in a tent on the grounds of Hobbiton next to the Green Dragon pub. Now obviously we had stuffed our faces the night before at the hangi but somehow we still managed to eat quite well for lunch! They check you in away from the site and then you board a coach which drives the short distance to Hobbiton, along the way Peter Jackson welcomes you and you meet the family who own the farm that the filmset was built on. When I visited the site 10 years previously there wasn’t enough to see on the old set so the tour also included a visit to the sheep farm to watch some sheering, my how things have changed. Nothing can quite describe the feeling I got as we walked through the small gap in the hedge and entered Hobbiton as it is now, when I came before there were only a few remnants of some hobbit holes everything else had been taken down or destroyed. But now, not only were there fully built and decorated hobbit holes, beautiful paths to follow, a fully grown vegetable garden, the lake, the mill, the pub, but some of the houses even had smoke coming from the chimneys. The tour takes you round all of the main sites and the guides tell you a number of stories from filming both the lord of the rings and the hobbit including how they found the site and what drew them to it. One of the reasons was that there is nothing else around, and so the whole set feels so real, so immersive and just truly magical; at least to me. You finish in the Green Dragon pub with a large mug of beer that is only brewed to be sold at Hobbiton, which is a shame because it’s really tasty. Sadly, you board the coach to be taken back to the check-in and enjoy another little video from Peter Jackson about how meaningful and special the experience of filming the trilogy was, accompanied by background music of the saddest part of Return of the King; seriously it’s like they’re trying to kill me in this place.

Even more sadly, this was the end of our road trip and almost the end of Viv and Andy’s visit, we drove back to Auckland and with only plans to meet up the next day for dinner (because I had to meet some other people at the airport) I left them at their Auckland flat. And on to the next adventure…

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Brooke you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Bellatrix Black!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Bellatrix is such a complex character, so it was a delight to get an application that explores so many different sides of her personality! Her possessiveness, her addiction to torture, the vestiges of insanity, her love for her family -- it all came through beautifully in your app. I know she’ll be a much wanted addition to our mix, and I can’t wait to see how you explore her characteristics and allow her to grow depending on where the plot takes us. Congratulations and welcome!

application beneath the cut ( tw: death, torture, blood )

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Hi, my name is Brooke. I’m 26 and go by she/her. I live in EST time zone, USA.

ACTIVITY

I’m a teacher so my activity during the week can be a bit spotty if I have school functions, however I am active on weekends. So my number is anywhere from 6-8 given the day of the week. I also have the app on my phone and can post during my lunch breaks and when out and about.

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

I was RPing here a while back as Lucius, but RL got away from me so I had to drop him. My friend Orlik is still here as Umbridge so I felt like coming back now that my life is more settled.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

I love Luna. She is someone so utterly full of life and she gives no fucks in the best possible way.

ANYTHING ELSE?

I am a devoted Ravenclaw!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Bellatrix- Means “female warrior” in Latin. This is the name of the star that marks the left shoulder of the constellation Orion.

Eris- Eris was the goddess of strife and discord

Black- a nickname given from the earliest times to a swarthy or dark-haired person

FACE CLAIM

Eva Green suits me fine! She has a wild beauty about her that fits my view of Bellatrix.

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

Ah, Bellatrix Black. The infamous zealot for Voldemort’s cause. Wielder of the power of Occlumency. Bringer of pain and destruction. What’s not to love about our resident crazy witch? She’s wild, full of blood lust, and evil. These types of characters are a blast to play! It is a small chance to drop the modern niceties and bring out a wilder side of you. Yet, Bellatrix is a character who is not one dimensional. Yes, she’s mad, but there’s also passion, loyalty, and even love.

Bella (I’ll call her that even though I imagine she’d allow no one but her sisters and Voldemort to call her that) is passion incarnate. Every action she does is done with her full self. Nothing is half assed with her. At any moment she is ready to kill for her cause and kill she will, with brutal skill and violent strength. Such is her passion that she utterly defends her cause, her blood purity, and family.

This brings us to her next point. Loyalty. She is of course loyal to the Death Eaters, but I would even say her loyalty to her family comes before that. She loves her sister Narcissa and I think, deep down, even Andromeda, though her passion would never allow her to admit it.  The loyalty for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black is so deeply ingrained in her that she’d stop at nothing to make sure it’s honor is upheld to the highest. Merlin help the person who dares sully their good name. This of course means Andromeda, which brings out a heavy struggle in the two sides of Bella. Loyalty and Passion conflicting at once.

But let us not forget love. Bella has memories of her sisters that are not easily forgotten, even in throes of passion and madness. She loves them dearly as she does her master. She may not understand her feelings as love however. She might see it more as possession. They are HERS and must be protected at all costs. How she manages her love among her other traits as the war develops remains to be seen, but it is clear it will be a struggle for all involved. Nothing will stop her from her goals, not even herself.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Bellatrix uses sex as a means for power. Whether it be to sleep her way to the top or to get someone hooked on her extensive bedroom skills, Bella has no qualms about working what she has. She is bisexual with a heavy lean towards women. Women are so soft and delicate and so fun to break.  The sight of blood, dark and wet, makes her hot and she loves to break out the knives for a little fun. The feel of steel on flesh, lightly touching and teasing as it raises goosebumps on the skin makes her dizzy. But it all becomes clear once she plunges the blade into her unfortunate lover’s flesh. Muggles are particularly fun to play with, so innocent and trusting. You know that Bellatrix has been around if attractive young muggles begin to disappear at a frightening speed.

Bella does not feel love, per say. She feels possessive and things that she marks are hers are just that. HERS. Her sisters. Her master. All hers. The thought of her beloved Andromeda in the possession of anyone else fills her with rage. HERS. NO ONE ELSE’S. Andy will return, even if it means she returns to Bella in her burial shroud.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

-A MOODBOARD-  http://www.gomoodboard.com/boards/P2Bme_9I/share

-A PLAYLIST

Starset- My Demons (theme song)

“I cannot stop this sickness taking over It takes control and drags me into nowhere I need your help, I can’t fight this forever I know you’re watching, I can feel you out there

Take me high and I’ll sing Oh you make everything okay (okay, okay) We are one in the same Oh you take all of the pain away (away, away) Save me if I become My demons”

The Offspring – You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid

“Slowly out of line And drifting closer in your sights So play it out I’m wide awake It’s a scene about me There’s something in your way And now someone is gonna pay And if you can’t get what you want Well it’s all because of me”

Nancy Sinatra- Bang, Bang

“Bang bang, he shot me down Bang bang, I hit the ground Bang bang, that awful sound Bang bang, my baby shot me down

Seasons came and changed the time When I grew up, I called him mine He would always laugh and say “Remember when we used to play?”

Lana del Rey- Ultraviolence

“He used to call me DN That stood for deadly nightshade ‘Cause I was filled with poison But blessed with beauty and rage”

Imagine Dragons- Thunder

“Just a young gun with a quick fuse I was uptight, wanna let loose I was dreaming of bigger things And wanna leave my own life behind Not a yes sir, not a follower Fit the box, fit the mold Have a seat in the foyer, take a number I was lightning before the thunder”

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

The following section should be looked at like a survey for your character. Answer them in character and feel free to use gifs. Or, if you’d rather, answer them in third person or OOC without gifs. Answers do not have to be extremely lengthy.

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

Skin is full of holes, you know. Did you know that? Little tiny holes. Openings. Entry ways. There’s a phobia for that, you know. Imagine. A fear of itty bitty little tiny holes. It makes one think of something sick. Infested. Infected. Trypophobia. Foraminissanguinem is my spell. Imagine a geyser. So beautiful. Now imagine three trillion of them erupting. Each from a point nearly invisible to the naked eye. So beautiful, no?

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you: There is one object I have always admired since I was a tiny pip of a girl. The Staring Glass Eye in Borgin and Burke’s. It’s quite a simple object. Unassuming. Small. Shiny. Yet it does so much more than meets…well, the eye. It resembles a glass eye. Of course, it does. A small, round, shiny glass eye with a blue iris. Pretty little thing. Would match my collection. I do so love the color blue. Once held, its owner is alerted to anyone or anything that attempts to sneak up on it. It sees through all things, solid or otherwise. Organic or otherwise. Such a useful tool, no? I believe I’ll inquire about its whereabouts. If lucky, it will remain at the store for my purchase.

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

None. What a ridiculous question. Next!

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

That I were not the very image of blood purity. I am Bellatrix Eris Black, eldest daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black, of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. The blood of my veins is that of a pure blood witch. My lineage is pure and superior. To declare otherwise is to meet the end of my wand.

WRITING SAMPLE

The echo of footsteps reverberated around the abandoned alley. The man, breathing heavy, pulled himself along the wall with one hand. The other was wrapped protectively around his broken ribs. Each footstep was a burning agony. Each intake of breath threatened collapse. Yet, he continued on. The safe house was near. Just a bit further and he’d be with the others. They weren’t expecting him, but he’d be welcomed. The information he’d acquired…he shivered slightly, feeling cold. Was it the chill weather or the rapid loss of blood that brought on the shiver? He couldn’t say. A high feminine giggle echoed somewhere nearby. He paused, barely breathing. It faded in the night, leaving a haunting silence in its wake. He shivered again. Must keep moving.

Behind him, stalked a predator. The metallic scent of blood wafting in her nostrils. She shivered as well, yet for a wholly different reason. A sigh followed by another high pitched little giggle. What fun! Stooping down, one long finger reached out to touch the crimson liquid splattered on the cobblestone. A pianist’s fingers, he father used to tell her. In happier times, that is. The blood was still warm. The coated finger was raised to the woman’s lips. A fine color to match her already ruby lips. A tip of pink tongue darted out to taste the salty liquid. Another sigh, like one offered to a sweet-talking lover. Oh, this was fun.

So close. He just had to make it. She was closer, he knew. But there was no rush in her pursuit. She knew as well as he, that he was not going to make it. A tear slipped down his face, falling to mix with the blood on the stone. If he could just get close enough. If he could just find some way to alert them, then it would not be for nothing. They needed to know. He needed them to know. Another step. He stumbled and then fell. Black spots danced before his eyes, blacker than the night. The sound of footsteps drew nearer until they were right upon him. She tutted, sadly, before straddling the man. Her weight upon his broken ribs brought gasps of pain. She nuzzled him gently. Her finger, still coated in the man’s blood, stroked his stubbled cheek. A smear spread upon it, barely noticeable in his already bloodied features. She smiled, which tore a sob from the man’s lips. It was too wide, too toothy. She leaned in close, her lips almost to his ear, and whispered gently. His sobs came swiftly. “Did you really think I’d let you go so easily?” She pressed her lips to his cheek before sticking out her tongue. She licked the side of his bloodied face and shuddered heavily. “We’ve only just begun our fun.”

[ambivalentman]

AN ATHEIST KING: THE LOSS OF BELIEF AND CHARACTER IN MUSCHETTI’S IT (2017)

This essay features several spoilers for IT (2017). You have been warned.

A DISCLAIMER BEFORE WE BEGIN

I was, at one point, a hard core Stephen King fan. When I entered my 20s, I owned every book written by him in hardcover -- with the exception of special edition stuff like My Pretty Pony -- including several first editions (like a beautiful first of The Shining). My copies of George Beahm’s The Stephen King Companion and The Stephen King Encyclopedia were already dog-eared and annotated. My prize possessions were the four issues of Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction I had which featured the first publication of The Gunslinger, and the other I had which included “The Moving Finger.” My parents thought I was weird, most girls thought I was scary, and at one point even my grandma suggested I seek therapy.

This was until about 2000. Then, an event took place which caused me -- like those in the Loser’s Club -- to abandon childish things. It was a bad decision, but I gave up my Stephen King collection.

I didn't rediscover my love for King until recently. Sure, I dabbled a bit these last few years, reading Under the Dome and 11/22/63, but I never fully re-embraced the hero of my youth. Until I decided to re-read IT, his 1986 masterpiece about a group of wounded people forced to face a truly terrifying force as both children and adults. I saw that Andy Muschetti was adapting the novel for Warner Bros., taking over for Cary Fukunaga, who -- despite being a true auteur -- fell out of Warner’s graces. All news surrounding the new adaptation was overwhelmingly positive, and it had been a long time since we last saw a great movie based on King’s work.

Back in April, I broke my right hip. After two surgeries, being fairly immobile has given me time to read more, so I picked up IT. Revisiting IT transported me back to that time when I was obsessed with King. The experience was overwhelming, like when adult Bill Denborough gets back on his enormous metal steed, Silver, and recalls how he once raced the devil on that bike to save Eddie Kaspbrak. A flood of joy came from reading King’s pulpy prose again. Going back to that tainted town of Derry to hang with the Losers helped make my rehab a little easier. And though I am still on the mend, I am ready to rekindle my love for King.

Which brings me to my other love: cinema. I don't write much about the movies anymore, but I am chomping at the bit to discuss and evaluate IT. There hasn't been a more anticipated film this year for me.

And no film has both pleased and disappointed me more.

WHAT MAKES A GOOD KING ADAPTATION?

Because of The Dark Tower, IT, and the forthcoming Gerald’s Game, there have been lots of clickbait “Stephen King Movies . . . Ranked” lists popping up online. Nerdist had a particularly interesting one, in which their top 10 looked like this:

10. Creepshow (1980)

9. IT (2017)

8. The Dead Zone (1983)

7. Dolores Claiborne (1995)

6. Stand By Me (1986)

5. The Mist (2007)

4. The Shining (1980)

3. Carrie (1976)

2. Misery (1990)

1. The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

Despite the ranking, most King fans and movie lovers alike will agree with this list (although Creepshow over Pet Sematary or Christine? Really? Sincerely?). Two of these films are directed by Frank Darabont (Shawshank, The Mist), and two by pre-what-the-f-happened Rob Reiner (Misery, Stand by Me). And the new adaptation of IT made the cut. So, if we can acknowledge these are the canonical King adaptations, what makes them the best? It's a pretty steep drop off in quality after the top 10. There's Pet Sematary, Christine, 1408, and The Green Mile, meaning that out of 44 movies based on Stephen King’s novels (not including TV mini-series), there’s really only about 14 good-to-great ones. If this were baseball -- King’s favorite sport -- Hollywood would be batting a respectable .318. Be that as it may, this is not baseball, and producing only 1 solid movie for every 3 is pretty awful.

This suggests that adapting Stephen King is tough. Why, though? His books are packed with memorable characters, scenes, and visuals. You could almost say he writes movies. His dialogue is colloquial and specific, and he has a great sense of pacing. While you could easily point out that lots of his stories share only a couple variations for endings -- destruction or aliens -- he is a strong storyteller with a keen understanding of cause and effect and narrative fairness. There's a reason, after all, that he inspired a generation of writers and filmmakers like JJ Abrams, Damon Lindelof, and the Duffer Brothers.

My theory is that King's greatness resides not in his ideas or execution, but in the spirit of his writing. King's voice is the soul of his work. When you read him, it feels like you are sitting down with a friend, listening to him share a great story. King feels familiar, like family. And the filmmakers who get that make films which reflect it.

Take, for example, the number 1 film on Nerdist’s list, The Shawshank Redemption. The use of Red’s voiceover narration immediately brings us into the tale of Andy Dufresne. Stand By Me and Dolores Claiborne also use great voiceovers. But in films like Misery, Carrie, and The Dead Zone, we are given protagonists who become our friends. We find Paul Sheldon to be kind and thoughtful, Carrie White to be sweet and misunderstood, Johnny Smith to be tortured and alone. These films understand deeply what King was aiming for with his characters. So, when Reiner changes events in Misery, it doesn't matter because not only did he truly “get” Paul, he also truly “got” Paul’s relationship with Annie Wilkes. Each of the films on this list, with the exception of IT (and Creepshow because it was an original script), truly grasped the core of King’s characters and their relationships to each other.

King is often considered a humanist author. His characters, including his villains, are often subjects for sympathy. In his work, there is a lot of insight into human nature, both light and dark. King is an observant author, grounding his most supernatural stories in a real world, with real people. This is best illustrated in his character relationships and interactions. Red and Andy develop first respect, then admiration, then deep friendship over their years in Shawshank. It is a relationship founded on honesty as they are the only honest men in the prison. Their mutual trust is what establishes the foundation for Andy’s escape plans, and ensures his success. In The Dead Zone, Johnny’s broken relationship with Sarah is haunted by lust and vitality, the very qualities Johnny loses touch with after his accident leaves him with a power which zaps the life from him with each use. Carrie White’s naive hope she can actually fit in is fulfilled by the compassionate Tommy Ross, which makes the tragedy of her coronation that much more devastating. The films capture these ideas to profound effect, which is why they endure. Once the novelty of plot dissipates, you are left with characters and their connections to each other and yourself. We enjoy a movie for plot; we love a movie for character.

King writes wonderful characters, and the best films based on his work never fail to capture those characters ideally.

Except IT.

Sigh.

THE PART WHERE I EXPLAIN WHY THE NOVEL IS A MASTERPIECE

It is not hyperbole to call IT “King's masterpiece.” Lots of critics have done it. By its publication in 1986, IT was the purest, most ambitious distillation of themes and ideas King had explored since Carrie in his fiction (and even in non-fiction dissertations like Danse Macabre). If you're reading this, chances are you know the story:

Every 27 years, the seemingly quaint hamlet of Derry, Maine becomes the feeding ground for an entity that has dwelled under the town’s surface for centuries. In 1958, after 6-year old Georgie Denborough is murdered by the creature -- assuming the shape of a murderous clown called Pennywise -- big brother Bill and his Losers Club come together to put an end to the evil. They are only marginally successful, as 27 years later, the Losers are called to return to Derry to kill IT for good.

IT is a multi-generational horror novel, spanning hundreds of years. We meet the Losers first as adults, all of whom (with the exception of Mike Hanlon, who chose to stay behind in Derry and become its resident historian and librarian) no longer remember the events that took place during the summer of 1958. Mike’s ominous phone calls, reminding the adults of the promise they made -- to return if IT ever resurfaced -- unlocks each adult’s dormant memory. As the novel unfolds, so does their collective remembrance of summer ‘58 and all the horrors it contained. King uses the flashbacks to highlight the differences between childhood and adulthood.

As with any epic sized novel, there are a myriad of themes to unpack. IT dives deep into ideas about childhood trauma, the power of personal shame, community corruption, racism, generational sin, and the coming of age ideas expected from a novel about kids becoming adults. For me, where the novel finds its most compelling thematic territory is in its exploration of belief. King wants us to recognize it is the purity of innocence, and the simplicity of belief that binds these kids together, and that the jaded cynicism of adulthood, with all its fears and anxieties, is what threatens to destroy them.

This theme hinges on the role of Pennywise. He is a shapeshifting, Lovecraftian monster, tapping into the fears of his quarry to exploit during the hunt. He appears to Ben as his dead father, to Mike as a pterodactyl-like bird, to the germaphopic Eddie as a leper, and to Richie as the lycanthropic Michael Landon in I Was a Teenage Werewolf. When Pennywise goes after Bev, it is by turning her sink into a geyser of blood which only she can see. Bill is tormented by the memory of his dearly departed brother, whose school photograph Pennywise animates and makes bleed. Children have very primal fears, and that which adults see as fake or absurd, kids often embrace as real. Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, chupacabras, zombies . . . children do not reject fantasy outright as adults do, making them susceptible to both profound fear and hope.

We see this in the Losers’ response to IT’s attacks. They are terrified, but never stop seeking solution. They find their weapons in objects. Even after he learns his asthma inhaler is a mere placebo, Eddie still uses it to calm his nerves, and later fires it at Pennywise, believing its contents to be battery acid. With Bill’s help, Ben melts down two silver dollars into bearings for Bev to shoot at the monster with a slingshot. When Stan gets trapped by Pennywise after finding himself alone in the house on Neibolt Street, he manages to escape by chanting the names of every bird contained in his field guide. The kids build an underground fort, which they convert into a smoke house to go on a Native American “Vision Quest.” It is during this dangerous endeavor that Mike and Richie seem to travel through time back to a primordial era where they witness IT’s arrival. The Losers’ passionate adherence to ritual and talismans give them a collective power. This power keeps them unified, and even frightens their tormentor. Belief is their truest weapon, especially belief in each other.

The other themes King addresses throughout IT are compelling, but it is this idea about belief that gives the novel its soul. There is no cynicism in King's approach -- he captures the imagination of these children with remarkable affection, and this results in each kid winning our hearts over. Pennywise may be the allure the book needs to attract its audience, but these kids are what inspires guys like me to re-read a 1,000+ page book.

They are also what inspired me to struggle with a movie engineered for my celebration.

IN PRAISE OF MUSCHETTI’S IT

Before I tear apart IT, which is very popular, having made over $200 million domestically in its first two weekends, I want to praise it. Despite having some huge issues, the film does some things very well. There is a good reason why this movie works for so many people.

The major reason IT works is because of its energy and general nostalgia. While these elements often fade on repeat viewings, they are so engrossing during a first one. Being set in 1989 puts the setting during a period Gen Xers remember fondly and for which Millennials pine. Movie theater marquees are showing Batman and Lethal Weapon 2. A poster for A Nightmare on Elm Street 5 is a coming attraction. The kids ride Schwinns, use Kodak Carousels, don’t have cell phones, and wear denim cutoffs. The aesthetic is perfect. Producer Seth Grahame-Smith revealed in an interview with Birth.Movies.Death that he prepped nostalgia lists for all of the child actors, from music to movies to video games to fashion as a way to show them what summer ‘89 in New England was like for him. The work paid off, because the town of Derry is authentic in its nostalgia. It is impossible not to be drawn into this world.

And this world is scary, even without Pennywise. As with all idealized nostalgic perspective on days long gone, there is a darker undercurrent (as if we punish ourselves for embracing such idyllic memories). Perhaps the darkest element are the adults of Derry. Kids go missing and the “Missing Persons” posters are simply papered over as new children are added to the list. A leering pharmacist flirts with Bev. In the library, as Ben investigates Derry’s ugly history, the Librarian lingers in the fuzzy background, grinning maliciously. Not one adult exhibits empathy for these kids, including Bill’s dad or Stan’s rabbi father. Certainly not Bev’s father, who inhales his daughter’s hair like she’s fresh out of the oven, and obsesses over her virginity with a fervor that would make even President Trump uncomfortable (or envious, if we're being honest). In some ways, the more visceral nature of the film captures Derry’s innate badness more clearly than the hundreds of pages King devotes to the subject in his novel. Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand pages.

Muschietti and his casting director also got the casting perfect. As with the films of JJ Abrams, criticize all you want, but it's impossible to trash the impeccable casting choices. Each of these kids perfectly embodies the characters they portray. Kudos especially go to Jeremy Ray Taylor, Sophia Lillis, Jack Dylan Grazer, and Finn Wolfhard as Ben, Bev, Eddie, and Richie. Ben’s beautiful sensitivity, Bev’s intense devotion and passion, Eddie’s passive-aggressive resolve, and Richie’s unending stream of bullshit are as sharp and resonant here as they are on the page. Even Jaeden Lieberher, as Bill, and Chosen Jacobs, as Mike, look and feel right. Unfortunately, the script makes some poor choices with their characters that nearly derails the film. But more on that in a bit. Without a doubt, these kids are legit actors. No scene better proves this than the swimming scene in which everyone is stripped to their underwear and dives into the lake from the frighteningly high cliff. The scene could have been incredibly exploitative as the boys ogle Bev, but instead the quality of these performances makes their pubescent sexual discovery innocent and real. Consider this a great contrast with the perverse exchanges Bev has with the adult world. It is both ironic and terrifying that Bev is perceived more as an object by adults than by teenage boys.

While the film finds many of its most effective scares in the presentation of Derry, and the juxtaposition of innocent and corrupt images, the advertisements promise that we will be scared senseless by Pennywise the Dancing Clown. As portrayed by Bill Skarsgard, this Pennywise bears little resemblance to the seductive, menacing clown Tim Curry created for the 1990 ABC television miniseries. Skarsgard’s Pennywise is serpentine, alien, with dead eyes and a slithering voice. His costuming suggests his age, and the cracks in his makeup reveal a facade. This Pennywise is less playful and charismatic, and hungrier. He drools as he corners the kids in the Neibolt house. And his shapeshifting is frightening, especially when he presents himself to Eddie as a relentless leper. Skarsgard’s performance is wonderful and wholly his own. He will invite comparisons to the iconic Curry, but ultimately his Pennywise will stand alone.

IT’s success as a film can be broken down into these three elements: Derry, the kids, and the creepiness of Pennywise. But its failure can also be broken down into three parts, too.

1) The absence of a thematic soul

2) The abandonment of characterization

3) The confusion of style for substance

A LOSS OF SOUL

A great adaptation isn’t necessarily about doing the book, but about capturing the soul of the book (or finding a soul no one even knew existed, ala The Godfather or The Shining). A movie can look the part, but if it fails to reveal that essence of spirit, it will eventually crumble. In the case of IT, the movie is about as hollow as the space behind Pennywise’s eyes.

The soul of this story is the children's belief. Outside of a generic, “We gotta believe in each other!” idea to which much lip service is paid, these kids are bereft of belief in anything. This is an atheist interpretation of Stephen King's story, in which our Loser’s Club prefer brute force over imagination. In the film’s climax, Bill leads the charge against Pennywise by picking up a bat and swinging at the clown’s head. All the Losers join him. The result looks remarkable, as each strike causes the clown to transform into each child's fear, but it is a graceless, uninspired physical solution to a metaphysical problem. It also ruins Pennywise. How evil can he truly be when all it takes is an angry mob armed with sticks to bring him down?

Throughout King's novel, the Losers seek many ways to defeat the demon. They melt down the silver dollars. Eddie’s inhaler becomes a chemical weapon. Stan’s bird book is a shield, the names of the birds his mantra. And the kids buy into Native American rituals, like the Ritual of CHUD, to confront IT. Obviously, the shift in setting from the 1950s to 1980s meant losing some of these talismans. After all, the 50s Wolfman, when compared to the 80s Freddy Krueger, is a flaccid nightmare. But every monster has a weakness, even human ones. The Losers spend no time thinking on this.

Indeed, Muschetti strips them of their creativity completely. Gone is Ben’s architectural acumen, which nearly flooded the Barrens and provided an underground club house. Bill’s storytelling, which keeps the group focused, is generically spread amongst all of them. Even Bev's love for fashion and art is lost. It's shocking to me how Muschetti removed the core elements from each of these characters, leaving only their gimmicks -- Bill’s st-st-stutter, Ben’s girth, Bev’s cigarette smoking, Richie’s humor, Eddie's hypochondria, Stan’s Judaism, and Mike’s blackness. In the need to appeal to every demographic, these characters were stripped for parts.

It is a testament to the strength of the performances by this group of kids that the Losers have any flavor whatsoever. The script provides them no depth, only set pieces and surface sentiment, yet they are convincing for awhile in the dark. But like Pennywise’s many facades, eventually they slide off and there's nothing remaining.

The soul of King's story is belief, imagination, and the collective power of childlike purity. Andy Muschetti’s adaptation is more in love with Halloween maze scares than it is with pursuing these ideas. His vision of defeating our fears involves angry children with sticks, not wounded children with imagination. Audiences may like the cathartic release that comes with beating the shit out of the monster, but it does nothing to feed their souls.

WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?

I already alluded to the surface qualities that pass for characterization in IT, but it goes a bit deeper than this. Character interaction is essential to building great characters, and this is where IT fails epically.

To prove this, let’s take a closer look at Bill Denborough.

Bill is arguably the most important of our protagonists, especially in King's novel. The story begins with him making a paper boat for his brother and sealing it with wax so it will float in the gutter water outside. The death of Georgie becomes a source of guilt and shame for Bill. And since his parents pay little to no attention to him, Bill is made to face these overwhelming feelings alone. It is his determination and inner strength that propels him to lead the Losers in their quest to put an end to IT. But, this quest, while certainly obsessive, is rooted in shame and love. Bill loves each of his friends and often goes off alone because he fears their fate will be his fault, as he believes Georgie’s fate to be his fault. This is the source of Bill’s maturity, which sets him apart from everyone else in the club. Because of Bill’s maturity, the Losers follow him without much question. They are devoted to him as a leader and friend, and willingly choose to lay down their lives if need be.

This is far from the way Bill is presented in the film. He is a Captain Ahab, chasing his white clown into the sewers of Derry. He likes his friends, but often doesn't concern himself with their feelings. In fact, at one point Richie throws a punch at Bill and the two fight over their pursuit of the monster. This Bill is not a leader; he is a dictator. He lacks empathy, and mostly cares for himself. Even worse, his quest is no longer rooted in shame, but in pure vengeance. Bill doesn't express his self-loathing at what happened to Georgie. Instead, at the end of the film, when Pennywise presents Itself as Georgie, Bill just punches IT in the face.

The shift in Bill is a subtle one, but has huge consequences for the story. By changing his leadership style, it makes the other Losers look more like followers of fear than a group of equals. In many ways, Bill is no different than the crazy bully Henry Bowers, whose friends follow him out of fear. Like Henry, Bill is on a mission to destroy, has little regard for the consequences of his actions, gets others involved who don't necessarily want to be, and doesn't listen to reason. Yet, we like Bill and hate Henry because Bill stutters and Henry likes carving his initials into the bellies of defenseless fat kids.

This is not to say Bill isn't the hero, but that Muschetti misfires with Bill by removing his core empathy and giving the character over completely to obsession. While the rest of the characters don't fare as badly as Bill does, each loses something, mainly through the cutting of interactions. On a basic level, we see this in the fact that Bev only interacts with Bill and Ben through most of the movie, yet is presented as the symbol of group unity. She can't even be bothered to share a smoke with Richie, or have a conversation with Stan and Mike.

Bill and Bev certainly present issues in characterization, but no character is more problematic than Mike Hanlon. There have already been several insightful thinkpieces about the treatment of Mike that there is little I can add, but the gist is this: Mike is presented as a token black character for no reason. Granted, most of these characters are tokens in their own way, so it stands to reason Mike would receive no better treatment. It was a struggle for me to watch one of my favorite characters in the novel reduced to a handsome black face that has to face the racist white bully. It was harder to watch Mike's love for history handed over to Ben. Mike deserved better.

All of these wonderful characters deserved better. This is what happens when style trumps substance.

THE NEW HORROR AESTHETIC

IT is the culmination of the trend in cheap seat horror to rely on the jump scare as the source of terror. No horror film of this variety has handled this trope better than Muschetti’s film. Arguably, Muschetti has perfected the jump scare. His film is a maze at Knott’s Scary Farm or Universal’s Halloween Horror Nights waiting to happen. The soundtrack is pitched to screamtastic levels. Put a camera on audiences and every 5-7 minutes, prepare to see people grabbing each other or jumping like William Castle had come back from the dead to put a tingler in their seat.

This reliance on the jump scare is aided by a color palette washed in sepia tones and deeper reds, which enable the clown to do his Jack-in-Box routine in darkness that can't elicit laughter. Muschetti and his postproduction team nailed the look of this film like mad scientists.

The beauty of this is that audiences love IT. This is a horror movie that feels like a horror film. Yet, IT remains safe, like those scary carnival mazes. When you're creeping your way through one, every darkened corner promises danger, but behind all that tension you know none of the masked employees can touch you without legal repercussion. Sadly, IT isn't allowed to touch you either. Promises of danger lurk around every shot, but it is all bark and no bite.

Take the Neibolt Street House sequence. There's a clever moment in which Bill and Richie, separated from Eddie, try to find him before Pennywise gets him and are presented with three doors to escape. The doors are labeled “Not Scary,” “Scary,” and “Very Scary.” Of course the boys take the first one, and are presented with a frightening image. You would imagine they would be forced to take the third door, but instead they double down on the “Not Scary” path and are rewarded for their cowardice. This is the ultimate in style over substance. The scene looks perfect, but says and does nothing.

Still, the aesthetic is convincing. This is how we want horror movies to look, even if they have nothing to say.

THE IMPLICATIONS OF IT

Since Warner Bros.’s sinks are exploding with dollar bills right now, IT will have a seismic impact on the popular culture landscape. Some things are inevitable: we will get a “Chapter Two” featuring the adults returning to Derry for a final showdown with IT. We can also expect more horror movies. Will we get more clown flicks? I'm sure there's plenty of those being prepared for VOD as I write this.

What I am more concerned about is the state of horror film. Over the last decade, we have seen a renaissance in indie horror. Get Out, It Follows, The Babadook, The Witch, The Invitation, Cheap Thrills, Starry Eyes, Goodnight Mommy, and Raw are a few of the most notable titles. This movement has brought a variety of styles and an emergence of new voices unlike anything we’ve seen since the 70s. Even a big budget haunted house franchise like The Conjuring reinforced the brilliance of James Wan and reminded us of the power in the traditional horror story amidst all the rebels.

IT feels like a sea change, though. The Conjuring made tons of money, but it didn't make this kind of money. And while The Conjuring felt traditional, IT is being presented as something new. People are talking about it like it's different. Joe Hill, King's son and respected novelist, called IT “one of the five best horror movies I've ever seen.” This movie is a hydrogen bomb on pop culture, especially as it arrived on the heels of the poorest performing summer box office in 20 years. This movie isn't just new, it's a savior.

So while we can expect more Stephen King remakes and adaptations, we can also expect less money for horror indies. Studios will want more movies to look and feel like IT, and in this narrowing marketplace, that has the potential to choke out the little guy. This is the true horror.

I hope I am wrong. Horror films are cheap to make. That is their appeal for young filmmakers looking to make a mark. Hopefully this doesn't change.

The Stephen King fan in me celebrates the love IT is receiving around the world. The cinephile in me is afraid of what this means for horror cinema going forward.

[andi-o-geyser]

those are my burner accounts smh i already wrote like 9 reviews on my main but i couldn't cause too much suspicion

my fav letterboxd reviews of red white & royal blue aka yaoi for white liberals

[27hands]

When I pretended.

Black coffee; spin it gentle, cue cream heaven algorithm, skinny dipping dollar store manicure, brewing tight curls, hubble in a cup. My little double shot whirl-pool, where's my double hot whirl-pool? I hate this, I want to die. Bossy with the world cuz I'm a bad bitch. Broke my heel, he stained my world, they stained my world, I stain peoples worlds everyday, what does this mean? I don't know. Does it matter? Always and forever, yeah, I'll add in beeper codes, it'll be cryptic and 90. Not 90's, or the 1990's, or Portland, or MC Hammer. I'll buy my neighborhood. I'll buy the houses and I'll buy the dogs and cats. Army of dogs and cats complete with barracks and oppressed natives. Heed my words, crumbs of potato chips at the bottom of the bag, the sticky in the cup holder of the Corolla, hair creatures plugging up my brain. I want warm apple pie and french vanilla ice cream. I want vanilla pie and warm apple cream. "I want nothing" is a zero. To "want" is something. I changed my mind. Warm Vanilla cream, slowly focusing eyes, Tibetan prose sublimation event; words transcend to light. $67.36 for a plastic bag, the morning after pill, and a coke. He bought me a scratch off to cheer a girl up. Black coffee, a girls only friend. Smoke it like you're french god damn, "god damn" he said. Sleep me away Romeo. Buy me a small dog and pay my car insurance. You're ok, you're kind of old, kind of Indian, and I'm terrified of what might lie behind the thickness of your beard. You buy me drinks honey... I love you. What does Tabitha want to be when she grows up? I'm a bank robber. Your house is burning. The house, it's on fire, there's still time, go, go! Bubble baths, fresh Clementines, I smell of fire, the radio is personal and the antenna speaks italian. It feels like 22 years of falling asleep. Nightmares. Electric ab stimulators for fat hearts and big eyes. Through squinted eyes, television three after midnight. Silk slip. Glass of white, free box, basic. Magic lamp, three wishes, cute drunk boy, bag of Andy Capp's hot fries, and something numb, a housewife special, I'll never be, so it's obvious what I need. "No Ammonia." in bad english say's Penelope; Revlon. "I'll put you to bed early!" my response to him saying that he's been going to bed progressively earlier since we started dating. It's only been two months, I think. Do not disturb, I am writing! Do not disturb the bee hive, I am the soul eater. Killer Queen Bee. "Plato, just some old white guy." "Well he's dead now." "Ding dong the bitch is dead.". Hmm, I sometimes wonder...Is the gas station clerk an alien, like a real alien, with purple skin. Tiny alien inside giant Arabic model mechanical human giving me change for cigarettes. Or is it possible that Oprah Winfrey is over six hundred years old? Why does the thought of washing other peoples hands bring me closer to my soul? Tiger print booty shorts and Margaritas in plastic cups! I sculpt Alabaster stone with my eyes. Get what you want before somebody else eats it all up. Jelly donuts haunting me. My fingers smell like cigarettes. I woke up mean and aiming a hand gun at the piano. HE woke up, taunted the cats, something about the yawning claw cat club, stole a book on Tibet from my roommate, rambled about how he needed to "escape" for coffee and sustenance, I would have struck him dead if it wasn't for his dashing good looks. I pointed my gun at his piano playing while he gathered free drugs on the porch and danced around like an asshole. Floating raft of kerosene and red pumps. Flaming arrow by Chanel plucked from Paris. Rose petals are contagious. It's no coincidence that the dark chocolate's, like the dark arts, across the aisle from lipstick and glitter nail polish. I reek of fire. I reek of fire. I reek of fire. I wish I had a time machine so I could go back and see that one movie for the first time in that one theatre that one time when I was somewhere around the age of you know... eleven. I need a big bow on my head that reads "NO". Maybe I can get Herpes and join one of those dating sites where everyone has Herpes. Live in a circus tent with a clown named Bongo sipping Mai thais under the flaming hoop, slap a tiger in the face, let'em keep his clown shoes on when we... start a nice little Herpa-A-Derp Partridge family. Tiffany lamps, Empty one-gallon gas cans, Full one-gallon ice cream cans, handful of stamps, rested writing hand, corded telephones stretching from room to room. The Operator is a spider. You'll trip your sister with the web you weave. Woopie, Wazooooo, I'm goin' to Vegas. Bank robber turned show girl, tonights news at eight. It's 4:14 AM the sun won't come up today. If dissatisfaction manifested physically, it would fill the air with grey and blinding ambient poison. If I had the power to manifest my emotions physically be warned for ye shall suffer one thousand years of blood shed and plague. I am Sludge, I have no remorse. A kitten today at Willard and Reynolds pet emporium lost 3 of it's 9 lives. Scientists believe that the clock is actually an ancient life form in a state of willful hibernation. If Sandra believes that I'll actually let her crash on my couch for "a little bit until I get my head straight"... "Mmmm yesss can I help you?" Black leather and red lanolin. Dead Cow, dead whale, inspirational. Dead bitch, white bitch, move bitch I'm next! I want this, I want that, I want THAT now! Trash, leave. Brief pause... I'm a dreamy whimsical sober and a Terminator II level drunk. Let's rock. Patience otherwise known as long suffering. I'm the girl in the corner playing madlib in my head with the cable TV trying to blend in. Surrounded by numb & weakened moths worshipping the dim & easy to reach lights. Getting weirder by the second. Can I come to your party and not have to talk? I'll smoke your cigarettes. Purple lightning Jeggings and Winnie the Pooh socks from the Party store bring happiness. Gas station chicken tenders and apple pies while the water soaks in. My elegant black gloves have never touched a steering wheel nor dare they dream of such sorted affair! Dare they dream! I dare them to dream. See where they'll end up? With the rats. Gold dipped Cheetos. Never-ending Po' boy. World wide oceanic light rail. Elevator to heaven for glass floor tours of earth. Oh I love my ugly boys. Two woman stand gossiping in the coffee room of Webber Electronics. One woman notices an itch near her wedding ring. Suddenly the woman, the room, the building, the streets and the piss, the hotdog hot air rising up from the sewers, the monarch butterfly in the dogs mouth, the America's funniest home videos over broccoli & cheese with the pork chops and the family they belong to, Poof. Cotton Candy. Big pink plumes firing like geysers from apocalyptic sink holes. Sky turns blood pink. Cotton candy fungus swallowing people alive. Everybody dead. I mean, nobodies really dead but these people looked really dead. Like really really really dead. Like "Fuck I'm dead." dead. I am a pit-bull terrier and you're fucking with the ultimate.  

[andi-o-geyser]

local gang of dnd players intimidate and viciously bully game show host sam reich, threatening to push his ass down the stairs like he's a 90-year-old grandma in a retirement home. more at 8

[sciencespies]

Diving and driving on icy moons: One strategy for exploring Enceladus and Europa

https://sciencespies.com/space/diving-and-driving-on-icy-moons-one-strategy-for-exploring-enceladus-and-europa/

Diving and driving on icy moons: One strategy for exploring Enceladus and Europa

Over the past 60 years, NASA has explored the solar system from the sun to the Kuiper belt. While many of these missions, especially those beyond Saturn, have been one-shot flybys (such as the Voyagers and recently New Horizons), others have charted many of the moons of Jupiter and Saturn extensively by repeated orbital passes. The sole landing on these icy worlds was the Huygens probe, which parachuted to the surface of Saturn’s moon Titan in early 2005 as part of NASA’s Cassini mission, and which operated for about 90 minutes after touchdown.

The data gathered from a few of these moons has provided compelling evidence of possible warm oceans beneath their frozen surfaces, Saturn’s Enceladus and Jupiter’s Europa in particular. NASA would like to explore these subsurface seas, as they appear to offer promise for the potential of life. Between their internal geological activity, spurred by the torturous gravitational complexities of Jupiter and Saturn’s many moons that heats these cold worlds, and the watery plumes spouting from both, they are very compelling to planetary scientists (especially exobiologists).

A prototype of a BRUIE underwater ice rover is shown above driving along the underside of an Alaskan ice sheet. Credit: NASA/JPL-CALTECH

There are a variety of missions under consideration for these moons, the most immediate of which is the Europa Clipper, currently slated for launch in 2025. But this mission, to be managed by NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) and Johns Hopkins University, is another orbiter, and will not be sporting a lander. However, actually getting down and searching the interior oceans of these moons directly is far trickier.

Most current plans call for one of two approaches to learn more about the water within the moon. The first is by either sampling the geyser-like plumes that erupt from fissures and cracks on these moons, as the Europa Clipper will do, while the second involves landing on their icy surfaces and taking small samples aboard the lander for analysis. The latter approach of landing there presents much greater challenges than an orbiter collecting water from a plume.

More challenging still, however, would be the direct exploration of the oceans themselves. JPL is working on a variety of approaches to accomplish this. All of them hold some promise, but require a way to get through the ice to the water below. A number of technologies are being considered for this role, including exotic nuclear-powered “melters,” but they have their work cut out for them. Europa’s ice shell is thought to be as much as 10 to 30 kilometers thick, and Enceladus’ between 30 and 40 kilometers thick, so reaching the ocean below will likely be difficult.

One alternate possibility is to let nature do most of the work, by using the fissures that already allow bits of the ocean to escape via plumes. A few designs are being investigated, but when one is sending a small probe down a hole tens of miles deep, simplicity and flexibility are important assets. Once you do reach that warm ocean, reliability and autonomy will be critical.

A prototype of a BRUIE underwater ice rover.

Andrew Klesh, who recently oversaw the MARCo cubesat program (the two tiny probes that flew to Mars with the InSight lander, providing a radio link during the landing process), has been working on a project that combines both simplicity and flexibility to design “buoyant rovers.” The rover is called BRUIE, for Bouyant Rover for Under-Ice Exploration, and is specifically designed to not only work while submerged, but also to do so with a high degree of autonomy. “To get under the surface of Europa or Enceladus, we need to find the quickest way in,” says Klesh. He’s currently looking for ways to use natural points-of-entry to sub-ice oceans.

BRUIE is a submersible that is being tested on Earth where it has been autonomously probing underwater ice caves in Alaska with scanning LIDAR and visual imagery to prepare for more complex exploration of the gas giant moons. These test runs have taken place in watery holes called moulins—labyrinthine melt paths that can extend thousands of feet through glaciers into sub-ice ocean water. Melted water at the surface of the glacier is warmer than the ice and melts into it, carving different formations. Some melts all the way through the glacier, creating a network of underwater passages.

This is one thing that makes BRUIE special. Rather than using a brute-force method to punch through a miles-thick ice shell, an evolution of this technology could navigate natural fissures that lead to the warm seas below. It might even use the channels marked by the plumes seen on Enceladus and Europa. As Klesh asks: “Can we map and navigate these subglacial lakes with robots? Are there accessible passageways hidden just beneath the surface?”

The BRUIE test robots are built with both commercially available components and custom 3D-printed parts, allowing for rapid-prototyping and quick revisions. Once the early prototypes were complete, Klesh and his colleagues took them to the Matanuska Glacier in Alaska for early tests. The robots were lowered into the frigid channels, allowing them to sink using controllable buoyancy while being maneuvered by small thrusters. While designed to operate autonomously when possible, they were tethered to a surface control unit from which they could be manually navigated, and recorded detailed measurements and data as they traversed the ice tunnels. This allowed Klesh and his colleagues to map these complex passageways with a compact LIDAR unit as they twisted and turned through the mass of the glacier.

JPL engineer Andy Klesh lowers a robotic submersible into a moulin, a tube-like channel in a glacier. Credit: NASA/JPL-CALTECH

A second robotic design has been developed by Klesh’s team to explore the bodies of water beyond the channel through the ice. It is a buoyant threewheeled rover designed to operate completely autonomously that looks like a small paddle-wheeled tricycle. When dropped through a hole in the ice (in this case, sawed by Klesh and his colleagues), it actually drives along the underside of the ice sheet, like an inverted Mars rover, recording visual and other data as it goes.

Some of these field tests were controlled using a tether, with Klesh and others operating joystick control units, while others were autonomous. Still others were controlled remotely from JPL in Pasadena, California. “This was the first time an under-ice vehicle had been operated via satellite,” Klesh said—the scientists were actually using a satellite to control the rover, adding more offplanet fidelity to the testing.

Current iterations of BRUIE can be operated at depths beyond 200 meters, and with ever-increasing autonomy. Work remains to improve autonomous operation and resistance to the extreme cold and high radiation found in the outer solar system. But early experiments such as BRUIE are critical to developing, testing and improving such technologies.

“A lot of what we do in deep space is applicable to the ocean,” Klesh said. “This is an early prototype for vehicles that could one day go to Europa and other planetary bodies with a liquid ocean covered by ice. It’s ideal for traveling under the ice shelf of an icy world.”

Rod Pyle is editor-in-chief of the National Space Society’s Ad Astra magazine. Article used with permission.

This article originally appeared in the Nov. 11, 2019 issue of SpaceNews magazine.

#Space