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queenbirbs · 4 years

Text

the open door | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC

Warnings: swearing, some brief mentions of corpses and body horror, spooks and possible spectres

Word count: 7.7k

Premise: Bryce invites Sloane, Sienna, and Aurora on a tour of a haunted estate on the night before Halloween. What could go wrong?

Notes: I’m super bummed that we didn’t get a Halloween-themed chapter for this book, especially since it’s my favorite holiday. Takes place post chapter 11, though I’ve played with the timeline a bit to include Halloween. Re-post because it fell out of the tag, as posts seem to want to do as of late.

Taglist: @maurine07 @caseyvalentineramsey

------

“You are aware there’s no such thing as witches, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Bryce scoffs. “Maybe. Besides, I said she was rumored to be a witch. That’s a whole different thing.”

“Oh, right, of course it is.” In the backseat, Aurora rolls her eyes. “Just tell that to all the people killed during the Salem witch trials due to mass hysteria.”

“Hey, now -- it’s not like she was killed for being a witch.”

“Right. She pulled a classic Rose for Emily,” Sloane mutters while Sienna makes a gagging noise.

“What?” Bryce asks.

“It’s a short story by Faulkner.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief pause. Sloane wonders if he even knows who that is. Then: “Is he the dude that had a hard-on for the Civil War?”

“Yeah,” Aurora snorts. “Basically.”

“Yeah, never read any of his stuff. I think I used SparkNotes for one of his books in undergrad.”

“Same,” Sloane admits, to which Bryce shoots her a look of faux-surprise. “Yeah, yeah, we all had to skate by sometimes.”

“Well, well, well,” he crows. “Looks like the ‘next generation of medicine’ isn’t so high and mighty after all, huh?”

“Wait, how did you--”

“Ramsey was four drinks deep at Donahue’s the other day, and one of the interns came up and bothered him about a possible spot on the team. Which meant we all overheard the twenty-minute spiel about what a great doctor you are.” He snickers as she puts a hand over her face and groans. “Yeah, it was real sweet. Real obvious, but sweet.”

She’s saved by the GPS on her phone, cutting through the music playing over the car speakers; Bryce takes the next exit as instructed. The off-ramp spits them out onto a two-lane county road. Posted across from the solitary stop sign, the blue services sign offers nothing but blank, white squares.

“There’s a bathroom, right?” Sienna asks. “Because I’m not seeing a gas station.”

“It’s a house, you guys,” Bryce scoffs, “not a cave.”

“A haunted house,” she clarifies.

“Well, I mean, I don’t think the toilets are haunted.”

For several miles, there’s nothing but sweeping woodlands and the occasional passing car. Long squiggles of tar decorate the asphalt, snaking across the empty, leaf-strewn road. The setting sun casts a golden hue over everything, spears of light cutting through the tree trunks. It would be a nice, evening drive if it weren’t for where they were headed.

Forty minutes north of Boston lies the small, nondescript town of Angler. Even under the cover of dusk, Sloane can tell that it’s one of those towns. Pretty Tudors line the main street, their porches decorated with smiling scarecrows sitting on bales of hay; banners along the telephone poles advertise the annual apple festival. The bank and the post office and the dry cleaners are all tucked together in the refurbished general store. It’s the stereotypical, pleasant, all-American town. Which means that it’s the perfect place to hide a dark stain of history.

Why Bryce signed up for such a thing and how he won the tickets is beyond her. When he asked them all to join him for a haunted house, Sloane expected the typical theme: some dingy warehouse refurbished enough to meet modern building codes, full of tight mazes and masked actors with chainsaws.

“Nah, guys, this is the real deal,” he gloated over lunch the previous afternoon. “Back in the 1800s, this woman -- uhh Margaret, or Maggie, I think, yeah Maggie Angler -- she was one of the Boston Brahmins, owned this estate out in the country, blah blah blah. No one knows a whole lot about her because she was a little weird and she kept to herself. At some point, this dude woos her and they get married. But then, a few years later, he dies. Neighbors drop by to offer casseroles or whatever, but she won’t answer the door, so they give up and leave her alone. A few months go by, and suddenly this dude from town goes missing. Then a year, and another goes missing. This continues for several years and--”

“So, what, she’s some kind of black widow?” Elijah asked.

“No, this isn’t one of those Marvel--” Bryce’s brow furrowed and then lifted, realization striking his handsome face. “--oh, heh, yeah, sorry. But yeah, sort of. It wasn’t until word got around that the latest dude was seen talking to Maggie at the store that people got suspicious of her. So, they gather up some people and storm the house, where they find a Satanic Bible and other spooky shit. But that’s not the only thing they find.”

They all glance around at each other, waiting to see who will encourage Bryce to break his silence and finish the damn story. “They also find... the missing dudes.”

“What, buried in the backyard?” Sloane asked, and frowned when Bryce shook his head.

“No, not buried. She killed them and then kept them in the house. Supposedly, they were posed at the table or sitting on the couch, rotting away.”

Sienna made a show of pushing her plate away. “That’s disgusting.”

“I know there’s a group of people in Indonesia that keep their dead relatives at home,” Aurora said, “but they’re preserved and cared for. This doesn’t sound like that.”

“Nope.” Elijah shook his head. “Definitely not the same thing.”

“What happened to the woman?” Sloane asked.

“No idea -- get this: they never found her.” Bryce lifted his eyebrows for dramatic effect. “But the story goes that she still haunts the place, searching for her lost lovers, and maybe… trying to get some new ones.”

Jackie, who had been busy scrolling away on her phone through the tale, snorted into her salad.

“And you want us to come with you to some evil witch’s house on the night before Halloween to go ghost hunting? I may not believe in any of this shit, but no fucking way.”

“Yeah,” Elijah sighed, cringing at the crestfallen look on Bryce’s face. “Sorry dude, but I’ll pass. My idea of fun is a John Carpenter movie marathon, not a tour around Jane the Ripper’s house.”

“Okay, understood.” With that, Bryce looked to the remaining three and turned on the charm, draping his arm across Sloane’s shoulders. “C’mon, ladies, whaddaya say? Hard to pass up the prospect of touring a bona fide haunted mansion with one of the most handsome men you know -- second only to Elijah here.”

Tapping at her chin, Sienna nodded and grinned. “Sounds fun. I like scary things.”

Aurora, on the other hand, shot him a skeptical look. “Are you going to shout at the air and act like you’re possessed, like I’ve seen that one ghost hunter do on TV? The one with the spiky hair?” she demanded to know.

“Uhhh no to all of those things, but especially to the spiky hair.”

“Okay, then,” she shrugged, “I’ll go.”

Every eye at the table turned to Sloane; Bryce squeezed her shoulder in encouragement.

“Alright,” she agreed. “It’d be fun to get spooked, I guess. I’m down.”

Which is how she comes to be in the passenger seat of Bryce’s car, leaning forward onto the dashboard as they take the final turn onto a hidden lane. A thick tunnel of trees swallows them up as they drive deeper into the woods. After several miles, there’s a break in the pines, and then: sprawled atop a hill, looming above them, is the house. Even if she hadn’t heard the backstory, Sloane feels like the place would still give her the creeps. With its filmy lace curtains and its tall windows glowing yellow in the approaching darkness, the house looks like it’s been pulled from an Edward Hopper painting. Worn pavers lead from the semi-circular driveway and up to the front porch. Framing either side of the steps, thin, brittle blades of tufted hairgrass shift in the wind. Two people turn from the front door and raise a hand in greeting.

Bryce kills the engine and twists around in his seat to grin at his compatriots.

“You guys ready to get scaaaared?”

Sienna wraps her hands around Sloane’s seat and leans forward, her eyes wide as she stares out the windshield.

“Why does it look like The Amityville Horror house?”

“Is this a bad time to mention that the Blair Witch Project’s producers used this place as inspiration?”

“Yeah,” she hisses, “definitely a bad time.”

Shouldering open her door, Sloane lets in the cool October air in an attempt to corral their attention. It works; the rest of them pile out of the car with her and approach the couple.

As the current owners of the property, Jack and Nancy Bell guide them through the main floor of the house, pointing out spots of reported activity. The interior is lovely -- one of those Sloane would see in a Pictagram post of a wedding venue, with all those carved banisters and original wainscoting. Her brother, a successful carpenter in the Twin Cities, would have a field day in here. Most of the furniture is original to the house, as well, and in surprisingly good condition.

The only aspect setting the house apart from any other on the historical registry are the props. In the front hall, a bulletin board hosts an array of newspaper clippings. The earlier articles blame a serial killer, dubbed the ‘Butcher of Angler,’ for the mens’ disappearances. Then, starting on October 28th, 1892, the headlines change to the ‘Wicked Witch of Winthrope County.’ In the drawing room sits an Ouija board, surrounded by melted candles. A cauldron and a Satanic Bible share space on the kitchen counter; corked bottles of what look like cooking spices and herbs clutter the open cabinets. Mannequins lounge at the dining table or on the sofa, dressed in dusty clothes, their jaws slack, their painted eyes still and dull. Beside them, framed in cheap plastic, are the grainy photographs of the corpses as they were found. To Sloane, it all feels hokey, like a regular haunted house with the strobe lights turned off.

There’s something else, though, something underneath the fine layer of dust and the creaking floorboards and the shrouded furniture. It skitters across her neck and down her back, making her shiver, which she discounts as a wayward draft in the old house.

It’s the distinct feeling of being watched.

“Aside from the big house, there’s a carriage house to the left there. We rent it out in the summer and fall for overnight stays.” Jack gestures to the east as they step out onto the back veranda, where, just beyond the slope of lawn, a smaller house sits with a solitary porch light glowing. “And back down the path there will lead you to the lake. When we bought the place, the deed stated that there was a cabin out near the state park line, but we’ve never been able to find evidence of it.”

“Maggie’s been seen down by the lake, too,” Nancy chimes in. “People say they see her there, inside the boathouse, or walking along the shore with her head down, as if she’s searching for something.”

“We’ve got lanterns here if you want to use them as you go about the grounds, though you’re welcome to use your flashlights.” Jack nudges a neat row of antique lanterns with his sneaker. “For the optimal experience, though, we recommend turning off all the inside lights and using secondary light sources instead.” He chuckles when Sienna makes a throaty noise of dissent.

The couple leads them back through the house and into the front hall to finish the tour. While Jack goes over the various rules, Nancy motions for Sloane to follow her out onto the front porch.

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of your friends,” she starts off in a whisper, “but I wanted to talk to you about our son, Ben.”

For a fleeting moment, Sloane thinks that she’s going to get questioned about his bowel movements or a mysterious rash, that Bryce must have told them he was bringing along his doctor friends. “When he was seven, he nearly--” Nancy cuts herself off, pressing a hand to her heart, “--he drowned when we were at the beach in Florida. I did CPR until the EMTs got there, and they were able to resuscitate him, thank God.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane murmurs, “that must’ve been awful.”

“It was. But I’m -- the reason I’m telling you all this is because, after that, Ben seems to be more… open. More open than the rest of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane says again, though this time out of confusion, “but I don’t--”

With a huff, Nancy shakes her head and waves her hands. “No, no, I apologize. I must sound crazy. I just wanted to warn you that, due to what happened to you, you might see things or experience things that your friends can’t. That’s all, dear.”

Sloane opens her mouth to question her further, but they’re interrupted by the rest of the gang filing out beside them. “We’ll be back at one a.m. to lock up behind you,” Nancy says as she follows her husband down to their car.

With a cheery honk, the little Subaru rumbles down the winding driveway and disappears. The sun having set during the tour, the landscape before them is now draped with the heavy blanket of night. The moon peeks at them from just above the treetops, as if still deciding on whether or not to come out. The only lights are far-off, unmoving: porch lights of the houses back in town; cell towers with their red stars blinking lazily against the dark. A cold wind moves through the trees, rustling the leaves and scattering them across the front walk, the dried edges hissing along the brick.

“Can you believe he said no alcohol?” Bryce breaks the silence with a whine. “I read about this fun séance thing you do with tequila shots and--”

“No séances!” Sienna declares. “And definitely no tequila!”

“Can we argue about this where it’s warmer?” Aurora suggests and steps back into the house.

As she and Sienna wander off into the drawing room, Sloane wraps a hand around Bryce’s arm and pulls him back.

“Did you tell her about me?”

His nose scrunches up to meet his furrowed brows. “Tell who about what?”

“The-- Nancy, did you tell her about what happened to me? With… with the senator, and…” it’s embarrassing how much of a struggle it is to get the words out, even now, even after three weeks and two therapy appointments.

His face falls from confusion to concern. Bryce reaches up and lays his hand over her own.

“Slo, I didn’t tell them, I swear. I would never,” he promises. “Did she say something to you?”

She loosens her hold, frustrated at herself that she even considered he would do such a thing. He’s one of her best friends, the man who handed over the reins to a cutting-edge surgery just to be by her side.

“Yeah, no, listen: it’s fine,” she stumbles through a paltry reassurance. “She was probably trying to scare me, that’s all.”

He gives her a quick once-over, lips twisting into a frown as he debates on whether or not to push. She bites back a breath of relief when he relents, his hand releasing hers.

“Okay,” he says, and nudges her into the house ahead of him. “C’mon. Between the two of us, I think we can convince them to turn off the lights.”

------

Although he puts up a good fight, Bryce loses on the no-lights front.

Which is just as well, because by the time they reach the second floor, Sloane is glad for the light from the antique lamps. To be fair, nothing actually happens: no spooks, no spectres, and no signs from the former resident. Nothing she can point to with any amount of certainty. Whatever it is hovers out of reach, just on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t seem to give it a name. Maybe it lies -- like any good, scary movie -- in the setting. For as grand as the house is, time and dereliction have taken its fine features hostage. Thick, gray dust coats the wooden spindles and curled handrails of the antique staircase. The corridors are tight, the shadows gathering in the space where the lights can’t seem to reach. Small curls of peeling wallpaper look like fingers reaching out from the wall, backlit by the sconces. The cloying scent of wood rot and mold fills the air, like a pile of papers left to curl and yellow with age. The rooms are small, cluttered with furniture and trinkets and artwork.

Sloane stares at such a portrait in the master bedroom, where a couple stares down at her from above the fireplace. The man sits in a chair, the woman standing beside him with her hand on his shoulder. It would be any other family portrait, if it weren’t for the unsettling glaze over the man’s sunken eyes.

“Bryce, please don’t-- aaaand he’s sitting on the bed.”

“You do know that’s where they found her husband, right?” Sienna points out. “That’s why there’s a mannequin on it. And a picture of his dead body on the nightstand.”

“Maybe Maggie will see what a catch I am if I’m laid out for her. I’ve never met a woman over the age of sixty who could resist my charms.” Bryce waggles his eyebrows as he bounces once, then twice on the mattress before stretching out. “What’s up, bro?” he asks the mannequin beside him before doing a double-take. “Hey, it’s Annie!”

He snatches off the ugly wig and fake beard, and lo and behold, an old CPR dummy gapes up at them all. Sloane snorts and shakes her head.

“Looks like the years haven’t been kind to her.”

“Probably saddled with student loans just like the rest of us,” Aurora mutters as she wanders over to inspect the photograph. “Had to get a second job here.”

“Hey, that was a joke!” Bryce commends. “And a pretty good one at that.”

“I do jokes.”

“You so do not.”

A muffled bang from somewhere in the house stops their banter. Everyone glances at each other, verifying that everyone in their group is indeed in the room.

“What was that?” Sienna whispers.

“Probably the pipes,” Aurora says. “It is an old house.”

As if on cue, the lights flicker once, then switch off, sinking them into complete darkness. There’s a flurry of noise as everyone digs out their phones; the bedroom seems even creepier, now, under the white glow of their flashlights.

“What do we do?” Sienna hisses, scurrying from the window to latch onto Aurora.

“We could always search for the breaker,” she suggests.

“Which would be where?”

“In the basement, most likely.”

“Um, no,” Sienna balks. “Hell no.”

“Are you guys serious right now?” Bryce hops down from the bed and pokes his head out the open doorway. “This is so cool! Who wants to go downstairs with me and grab the Ouija board?”

“If you bring that thing near me, I will break it in half.”

He grimaces at Sienna’s threat.

“You’re not really supposed to do that with them. It’ll keep the door open for the spirits to come in.”

“It’s a toy made by Hasbro,” Aurora scoffs. “It’s not going to ‘let in’ anything. And the planchette doesn’t actually move on its own. That’s due to the ideomotor effect.”

Moving over to the window, Sloane presses her temple against the pane’s edge and squints. Just past the eastern wing, she spots a faint halo of yellow light on the lawn.

“Hey,” she raises her voice over their bickering. “It looks like the carriage house still has power.”

“Great!” Sienna squeaks and pulls Aurora with her towards the door. “Let’s check it out. I… love carriage houses.”

They push past Bryce and start back down the hall. Turning from the doorway, a coy smile spreads across his face, a single eyebrow lifting at his wordless request.

“Oh, no.” Sloane shakes her head as she crosses the room. “I’m not staying up here so you can play Twenty Questions with a ghost.”

She ignores his good-natured grumbling and leads him to the staircase, where Aurora and Sienna are waiting on the landing. Aimed at the ground, their flashlights slice at the hand-carved walls; dustmotes dance in the twin beams, kicked up by their feet. The air feels heavier, mustier here, too, like breathing through wet wool. They tromp down the stairs and across the first floor to the kitchen. Being at the back of the group, Sloane can’t help but glance back now and again at the shadowed recesses, searching for the source of her uneasiness. That she finds nothing amiss doesn’t seem to curb her anxiety.

The sensation wanes when she closes the door behind them, sealing up the house once more.

“How is it warmer outside than in there?” Sienna asks as they start cutting across the lawn for the carriage house.

Bryce zips up his coat and shrugs. “I’ve heard that ghosts tend to suck the energy out of a room, creating cold spots when they mani--”

“Please stop talking,” she begs. “At least until we’re somewhere with electricity that actually works.”

“Aw, come on, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve seen enough scary movies in your life to know that we’re safe if we travel together. Besides, everyone knows the funny guy goes first.”

“I think that honor belongs to people of color, now, sorry.” Aurora chuckles when he spins around to wince at her.

“Yeah, fair point.”

Coated in fallen leaves, the ground crunches loud underneath their shoes, blocking out the night sounds as the four of them approach the smaller house. “But for real, I don’t think we have much to worry about from Maggie here. I mean, almost all ghost stories are about little white girls from Victorian times named Sally or Sarah or Kate.”

“That’s because of the spiritualism boom in the late nineteenth century,” Aurora answers.

Bryce sighs and quickly changes the subject, uninterested in a history lesson.

Converted into a proper guest house sometime after the turn of the twentieth century, the carriage house lacks the severe decay of the main house. Though not as grand, the wallpaper here is intact, the dust not as heavy. It might just be the comforts of amenities such as central heating and electricity, but the inside of the house feels much more benign. As they complete a loop around the building, though, Sloane realizes that the feeling of being watched still remains, growing stronger when she passes or glances out one of the windows. With the glare of the lights, though, it’s hard to see much of anything past the panes. None of the others seem to be frightened -- or if they do, they keep quiet. The same can’t be said when Sienna flips the light on in the parlor.

Toddler-size dolls lean against the walls, their porcelain hands cupped around their faces. Each wears a pretty, pastel dress trimmed in white lace, their hair falling down their backs in long, springy ringlets of dark brown, cherry red, and honey gold. Bryce makes a noise of disgust when he spins one around, its face blank: no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Time-out dolls, Sloane tells them, remembering her grandmother’s friend who owned several back in the early nineties -- though hers were all dressed as clowns.

“People actually rent this place out? They pay money to stay here?” Sienna shudders. “I’d rather sleep in the other house, even with all the cobwebs and mannequins.”

“And the ghosts,” Bryce adds.

“Ghosts don’t exist,” Aurora says.

“Okay, Scully, that’s enough out of you.”

------

As the clock ticks closer to ten, Bryce votes to go check out the lake. Aurora and Sienna, however, vote to stay in the warm, well-lit kitchen. The plan is decided to split up and then meet back at the main house in time for midnight.

“You know,” Bryce explains as he and Sloane make their way across the lawn, “because it’s the witching hour.”

“I thought it was three a.m.”

“It is if you’re taking into account REM cycles and all that, but I’m not. All the legends I’ve read say…” he trails off, frowning as he jogs up the main house’s back steps. “Hey, you shut the door when we left, right?”

Her phone’s flashlight sweeps up the French doors; one of them is ajar, standing open several inches. She reaches for the handle and shuts it, listening for the snick of the latch.

“I guess I didn’t pull it closed enough.”

“Or,” he taunts as he grabs two of the lanterns from the porch, “something else opened it.” Ignoring her scoff, he pockets his phone and hands one of the lanterns to her. “These are nice. Do you think they’re original?”

“Bryce, they bought these from a Cracker Barrel. And besides, they’re battery-powered.”

“Oh.”

The back of the estate has been left to run wild. Overgrown swath rolls along the ground like dunes, snagging dead leaves between the dry blades. Thickets of barren shrubs creep out from the distant tree line. The path to the lake is marked by an old fence post, tied with a tattered ribbon. They make their way across the wide expanse of lawn, the trees ahead towering higher and higher the closer they get to the forest. Sloane can’t help but check over her shoulder. The house is just as they left it, though the moonlight is too weak to see if the door is still closed.

Gravel crunches under their feet as they step onto the trail. The quiet night is broken by a ding from her phone.

How goes the ghost hunting?

She hooks the lantern in the crook of her arm and taps out her reply: Fun so far, lights went off by themselves. Very spooky 10/10

Ethan: What do fractions have to do with what you’re doing?

Sloane: Nvm

Ethan: This isn’t 2002. You do have a full keyboard under your fingertips.

Sloane: so?

Ethan: So there’s no excuse for using T9 acronyms.

Sloane: Never thought I’d see the day you reprimand me for texting

Ethan: I’ll spare you the lecture and let you get back to your witch hunt. Text me when you get home, please, so I know you returned safely.

She hits send on the next message. Several seconds later, a red bubble appears beside her will do!, informing her that it refused to send. A quick glance at the top of the screen shows the one measly bar of service her phone is clinging onto. With a sigh, she tucks it away.

“How’s Dr. Ramsey?” Bryce asks.

“Preparing a TEDtalk on prehistoric cell phone etiquette.”

His nose scrunches up. “What?”

“Nothing,” she chuckles, exhaling through her mouth just to see her foggy breath.

The light from the lanterns casts an eerie, yellow glow across the tree trunks and underbrush. Creaks and knocks echo up out of the dark -- branches smacking against each other as a cold wind sweeps through the area. The last vestiges of October skitter along the ground; the leaves almost sound like footsteps, dragging across the dirt behind them. The trail tightens as it winds down a small embankment and into a hollow. Their pace seems to pick up, though neither of them mention it. Sloane burrows into her scarf at the sudden dip in temperature.

“How’s Keiki?” she asks, more so out of need to make conversation than actual curiosity.

“Probably eating her way into a food coma with the pizza money I left for her, and beating all my high scores on Need for Speed.” He’s grinning as he says it, though, which Sloane finds encouraging. “I invited her to go with us, but she said no.”

She doesn’t miss the crestfallen expression that crosses his face for a moment.

“Trust me when I say this, because I speak from the experience of having a younger sibling, but she didn’t say no because she doesn’t like you or anything. It’s because she thinks you and your friends are dorks.”

He sputters at the insult. “I’m not a dork!”

“You so totally are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!” she argues. “Ethan thinks I’m bad, but you -- you come in on your days off and you like it.”

“That’s called dedication to the craft.”

“That’s called being a dork.”

What little she can see of the path ahead is more winding turns, more endless seas of bark and brushwood. But just when she thinks that they’ll never reach the end, that they’ll wind up stumbling upon Elly Kedward’s house -- there’s a small dot of light and then a break in the trees, where the path spits them out onto a rocky shore. The lake glints under their lanterns, the pearlescent gleam of the moon dancing on its surface.

“Oh, hey, that was nice of them.”

Sloane’s gaze tracks along the shore and over to where he’s gestured. A solitary lantern sits in front of an old boathouse, illuminating the weathered cedar shake.

“Too bad they can’t install lights along the path,” she mutters as they make their way to the structure.

“What part of ‘bona fide haunted mansion’ did you not understand? This is the thrill of it!”

Bryce shoulders open the door to a dim room with a half-sunken rowboat in the center.

“Thrilling,” she drones, side-stepping his attempt to whack her arm. “Right.”

They poke through the dirty raincoats and rusted tackle boxes. The wooden planks under their feet jostle and flex. Everything smells of wet and mold, the walls slick with grime. “I can think of several better places to haunt.”

Bryce hums his agreement as he prods at a stack of old hunting magazines, the pages sealed together. Sloane steps over to look down at the boat, where minnows dart underneath the oars to escape her light.

“Watch where you step,” she tells him as she crosses to the starboard side. “Some of these boards are really falling apa--”

The rest is lost to her shriek as the floor underneath her snaps. Her foot goes through the wood. She drops the lantern and scrambles to stay upright. The soggy planks slip from her grasp as she falls backwards, and then: water, the icy rush of it closing over her head.

She fights back a gasp at the sudden cold. With her knee trapped in the joists, she can’t get her feet under her to kick to the surface. Her hands sweep out, flailing desperately. Something hard slams against her neck. She twists at the waist; the sunken lantern illuminates the long shadow of the boat. She digs her fingers into the wood. The cold saps at what strength she has, her muscles refusing to work as she tries to push herself out of the water. Her lungs ache; her heartbeat thuds inside her skull. Down in the murky depths below, a long shadow reaches towards her. Fingers, then hands seize her waist; her skin hits the cold air. Sloane blinks away the muddy haze that coats her eyes and sucks in a lungful of blessed oxygen.

“Sloane!” Bryce shouts, as if he was expecting to pull out someone else. He ropes an arm around her back and helps her up out of the water. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of--” the rest of his words are lost to an undignified oof as Sloane wraps her arms around his neck.

“Thanks.”

His hands come up to rest along her back, gently rubbing there to warm her frozen skin.

“I would say don’t mention it, but please do. The notoriety of me saving your life needs to make its way back to the hospital, so Rahul will finally go on a date with me.”

She fights the urge to roll her eyes.

“You would be concerned about getting a leg over while mine is still stuck.”

“Oh, whoops. Sorry, here, I’ll...” Sitting back on his heels, he steadies her against him and helps her shimmy out of the hole she’s made. Despite how saturated the planks are, her jeans are torn along her knee, where blood wells across several scratches. “Ouch,” he hisses.

“Nothing a few bandages and a tetanus shot won’t fix,” she assures. Wobbling as she stands, Sloane limps over to the storage chest in the corner. The blanket she finds is tattered and smells of mold, but it’s better than braving the night’s chill in just her soaked sweater. “Alright, I want out of this place like yesterday.”

Bryce picks up his lantern and nods, following her out onto the shore and back onto the path.

------

“And, I don’t know, he’s also distant with me sometimes, ya know? He’s hot, then he’s cold. He’ll flirt with me and agree to a date, but then he bails at the last second.”

“I get you.”

“That’s why I’m coming to you, oh wise one,” Bryce says with a grin. “Teach me your ways of dealing with difficult guys.”

Sloane laughs, the sound echoing through the quiet forest. Tucking the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she shakes her head.

“Trust me, if I knew how to, I wouldn’t have such problems with my own.”

The cell phone in her pocket burns at the reminder of Ethan -- not that she could contact him if she wanted, given that the freezing water had zapped the last of its battery.

“Yeah, but you could at least give me some pointers on how to wear him down.”

“Oh, my god, Bryce--”

“Okay, okay, not… ‘wear him down’... more, like, encouraging than that, I guess....” he trails off with a shrug.

Humming as she thinks over her plan of attack, Sloane slows her pace to drop behind Bryce to skirt around a fallen tree -- until she can see it no more. “Fuck!” Bryce curses from in front of her, rattling the lantern as if abuse will bring it back to life. “Batteries must be dead. Let me…” There’s a rustling of clothes, a brief, hopeful inhale, then: “Fuck. Phone’s dead too. Must be the cold or something.”

Sloane closes her eyes and opens them again, hoping that they will have miraculously adjusted to the dark -- but no such luck. With what little moonlight seeps through the canopy and the dusting of fog that’s rolled in, it’s hard to see farther than a few feet ahead. It will make this slow-going trek of theirs even slower. She scans the woods surrounding them and stops when she sees a pinprick of light back down the trail.

“I have an idea,” she says, “but you’re not going to like it.”

He does not, in fact, like her idea. But even he can’t argue against it. Besides, they’d only made it about a half-mile up the path, and the boathouse wasn’t that far back.

Which is how Sloane comes to be sitting on the log, trying her best to ignore the darkness pressing in on her from all sides. If Aurora were here, she would be explaining that being afraid of the dark is just a concept carried over from early hominid days. Then again, if Aurora were here, she wouldn’t have had to send Bryce back for the other lantern, and they’d be back at the house by now. Sloane knows she should keep moving to stay warm, but she’s cold and wet and her knee is throbbing something awful.

She’s uncertain of how much time passes before that silly bundle of nerves in her stomach morphs into the proper weight of worry. Bryce should be back by now. She knows he made it to the boathouse because the light through the trees is gone now. Her eyes have since adjusted to the night, which means it’s been at least thirty minutes. Maybe that lantern died, too, she reasons. Sloane listens for his familiar cursing, or his footsteps on the path -- but there’s nothing. The nighttime noises of the forest are gone: no animals, no birds, no wind. The stillness is nothing short of eerie, especially when she feels that now-familiar sensation of being watched.

“Bryce?” she chances.

From out of the black, she can hear someone walking down the path.

“Bryce!” she shouts, struggling to her feet. “Sienna? Aurora? Is that you?”

Whoever it is doesn’t respond. She starts down the trail towards them, cursing when she nearly trips over a rock. “Seriously, guys, I’m not in the mood--”

An awful sound echoes out of the dark, like a high-pitched whistle played over radio static.

She freezes, pebbles and twigs skidding across the dirt at her sudden halt. Every hair on her body stands on-end, her muscles locked as adrenaline races through her. Sloane swallows and clenches her blanket tighter.

The high-low tone of the whistle sounds again. Whatever’s out there is just beyond the reach of her vision. Sloane wheels around, her gaze darting across the shadows, as if she’ll be able to even see-- a light. It’s several hundred feet out in the forest, back in the direction of the house. It’s too far away to make out who’s holding it. It has to be Bryce, though -- playing a prank on her, as if she’d find this sort of thing funny in the state she’s in.

She bites back a curse and hurries after him as best she can, keeping low to the ground in an effort to hide from whatever animal is out here with them. The trail becomes rougher, more overgrown as she trudges through the leaves and shoves away sticker bushes. Forced to waste precious time watching where she’s going, she glances up only to keep track of the light that grows closer every second.

The whistle comes again -- louder, closer now. Whatever it is, it’s still following her. Sloane pushes through a thicket and stumbles into a clearing. Tucked between a small grove of pines in the center is a cabin. With the caved-in roof, sagging porch, and front steps that form nothing more than a woodpile, it’s obvious the place has long stood abandoned. Sitting on the porch and casting a glow into the open doorway is a lantern -- the same make as the others. Approaching the steps, she slowly leans up and snatches the lantern from the porch.

“No fucking way,” she mutters to herself. “I don’t care if it is a bobcat out here, I’m not hiding in the Evil-Dead-looking-ass cabin.”

The dark silhouettes of the trees rustle under the cold wind that blows through the glade. Carried with it is a different sound: voices, all slurred together, but forming one syllable. She steps away from the cabin and back towards the forest, straining to make it out. Her name, she realizes with relief. They’re calling her name.

She sucks in a breath to yell back when movement catches her eye. Something dark curls away from the tree line, only to dart into the tall grass when she swings the lantern in its direction. Sloane squints at the underbrush it disappeared into, waiting for it to appear again. For a few, blessed moments, she thinks it’s run off, that it’s finally given up.

Until a black shadow crawls out of the underbrush towards her, shrieking, braying like an animal in pain. It’s an ear-splitting cry, echoing across the clearing. Sloane tightens her grip on the lantern and bolts. Ducking back into the trees, she heads in a single direction, knowing that she’ll either hit the lake or the house -- of, if she runs far enough, the town.

Shoving through low-hanging branches, she glances over her shoulder to see the shadow chasing her, peeling itself out of the shadows as it moves between the trees, somehow darker than the black surrounding them. Her foot hits a patch of wet leaves and she slips, skidding down the hillside and tumbling out onto a stretch of asphalt. She grits her teeth against the pain in her leg and crawls forward into the middle of the road. With no time for hesitating, she pushes to her feet and runs, hoping she’s picked the right direction.

It wails again, in the trees to her left, scurrying across the hillside after her.

“Fuck off!” she screams.

Another noise comes roaring out of the dark, drowning out her cry. Lights -- searing, blinding -- swing around the curve. Brakes squeal as the car swerves, narrowly missing her; glass shatters as Sloane staggers to the roadside, her lantern cracking as it hits the pavement and rolls off into the grass. The guard rail is like ice beneath her palm where she clutches it, using it to stay upright as her heart threatens to vacate her body through her throat. The hillside is drenched in red from the car’s tail lights.

“Sloane!”

Ethan -- it’s him, his car, he’s here, but he should be in Boston, shouldn’t he? He was when he texted her and that was only an hour ago so why is he here and how did he-- all of her panicked thoughts cease when he folds her into his arms and hugs her tight. The night around them is still, save for the purr of the engine and the soft dinging of the door ajar warning.

“What the hell were you thinking, standing in the middle of the road like that?” he hisses, pulling her back to pin her down with his glare. “You could’ve-- I could’ve killed you.”

“You’re here,” she whispers.

Her lips are numb from the cold and shock. She reaches up for the blanket, then realizes that she must’ve lost it somewhere along the way.

“Of course I’m here. You really need to stop scaring the hell out of me, you know that.” His brow furrows as he frowns, taking in the state of her. He slips off his own coat and bundles it around her. “Honey, you’re freezing. Let me--”

“We have to go,” she urges, remembering what’s waiting for her, out in the forest. Grabbing hold of his hand, she starts tugging him towards the car. “There’s -- in the woods, there was -- I don’t know, this thing, and it kept screaming, it was horrible--”

Ethan shushes her rambling and guides her into the car, buckling her seatbelt when her hands won’t stop shaking. She tucks her nose into the collar of his coat, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he backs the car up and turns back towards the estate. With one hand on the wheel, the other finds hers and holds tight.

“Your friends called me when they couldn’t find you, wanted to know if I’d heard from you, in case you’d made it to somewhere with a working phone. I called you-- well, more than I’d care to admit, though it was obvious your phone was dead.”

“How did you get here so fast?” she wonders aloud.

“I got here around twelve-thirty, did a sweep of the woods. Around one I started driving around, hoping that I’d come across you in case you made it to the road.” He gives her a worried glance before returning to the road. “The others have been out with the sheriff’s office and the owners, searching the woods.”

“But I… that doesn’t make any sense,” she tells him with a shake of her head. “It wasn’t even midnight when me and Bryce started back, and he was gone for twenty, maybe thirty minutes. And then I saw him-- well, not him, but at the time I thought it was him being an asshole-- and then that… thing chased after me and I got turned around, sure. But it couldn’t have been more than an hour.”

“Sloane, it’s nearly three in the morning.”

Her immediate reaction is to protest, but the concern in his tone and the clock on his dash render her mute. Which is for the best, she realizes later after pulling up to the house and seeing the driveway choked with cars: Bryce’s, the Bell’s, and several police cruisers. Modern floodlights tucked below the eaves turn the dark house into a bright beacon. Blue and red lights of the cruisers swirl across the lawn. As soon as they pull up, her friends race over to the car and wrap her into a hug. One of the cops takes her statement, ignoring Ethan’s insistence about getting her home and taking it over the phone instead.

“Must’ve been a coyote,” the cop tells her after she’s finished. “We get a lot of reports of them out here, being so close to the state park.”

“A coyote,” Sloane repeats.

“Well, sure,” he says with a shrug. “Unless you think it was something else?”

She doesn’t have an answer for that. Having dealt with her fair share of wildlife coming down from the mountains and into her backyard growing up, she can’t remember ever hearing anything similar. Even her grandfather’s tales about the Wampus cat, her favorite spooky story as a kid, didn’t hold a candle to… to whatever was out there.

After the cops leave and the Bells lock up, her friends pile into Bryce’s car for the ride home. Though not before Bryce shares with her his own experience with the mysterious shadow. However, he’d gotten a good look with the lantern.

“It wasn’t an animal,” he whispers to her. “It was her. It was Maggie, I swear it.”

Sloane didn’t know what to say to that. So she hadn’t said anything, just squeezed his hand and hugged him goodbye. Returning to Ethan’s car, she settled into the passenger seat, thankful for the change of clothes he had in the trunk -- and the first aid kit, of course.

With the classical music floating out of the speakers and the warmth of his hand in hers again, it would’ve been easy for Sloane to close her eyes. She can’t help it, though, when they back out of the drive. She looks up to the long row of windows. It could be a trick of the headlights, but something watches them from around the lace curtains. As they start to pull away, it slinks back into the shadows of the house.

------

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

The inspiration for the Angler Estate is the abandoned Uplands Mansion in Baltimore, MD. If you like urbex stuff, I highly recommend looking up some videos of it on YouTube. It’s a gorgeous place, despite all the vandalism. The owners’ surname being Bell is a fun nod to the Bell Witch Cave, my state’s claim to supernatural fame. The mention of The Evil Dead cabin is another poke, since the 1981 original was filmed an hour away from where I live.

The “watch where you step” line is pulled directly from Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune.

#open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #Kaila writes things #f: the open door

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sn0tcl0wn · 3 years

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rant incoming (don't worry it's not me being mad, i'm just really hype about a book i'm rereading):

i'm genuinely shocked there's never been an uptick in interest in storm thief by chris wooding on this site. like of all places. it's a gothic dystopian YA novel with cyber and dieselpunk vibes with its main characters being a black disabled boy and a girl with chronic illness who live in the ghettos of a society that's built on greed and the bodies of people like them. there's a resistance and the fall of two civilisations. there's also a morally gray monster man. it's a book that's been living rent free in my mind since 2006. i'm currently rereading it as i do every so often and not only is it beautifully written and still holds up but the premise alone seems like the exact thing people would put on lists of diverse dystopian YA fiction or unique books for people who like dystopian fiction, steam/cyber/dieselpunk, gothic sci-fi, or eldritch horror. it has all of those aspects and i think a lot of people are missing out. it's also only one book and it's not too long meaning there's less commitment for people who don't want to read a whole series or start a series and never finish it (i hate doing that and yet i always do).

it's on my list of books i always wished there was an active fandom for because it's honestly one of the coolest fucking book i ever read growing up and much of the imagery it paints and it's story still inspire me to this day. it's at the top of my list of books i'd adapt if i had the chance and something i think people should give a shot. please read storm thief if you get a chance.

also kinda spoiler alert but also everything i'm saying next is either obvious early on (in a good story telling way, not lazy writing way) or straight up on the back of the book;

if y'all do read this book and i end up getting any messages from people whining about the cishetness of the characters i will scream because interracial friendship and love is just as revolutionary as trans and gay friendship and love. like the last time i suggested it to a group of people they complained about it "being basic YA" and "making the straight boy and girl fall in love" and to this day i'm still tight about that shit. like first of all it's obvious from the second they're introduced that they have little crushes on each other and their chemistry is really sweet and natural. it's a good m/f couple and one of the few genuinely sweet and healthy ones i read in YA fiction as a kid (ig you can argue codependency but they're just trying to keep the other one alive). second of all (and more importantly) until this book i had NEVER read a book with a black kid with dreadlocks from the ghetto being the hero of a sci-fi novel let alone being the dude on the cover AND getting the girl even though she's white. like ????? that was a Life Changing Experience for me and if you can't see why i really cannot trust you.

until i was 11 i only read about characters like me and the kids i grew up with in the hood in realistic fiction about being poor and black and sad all the time. this was the first teen novel i remember picking up about a black boy that didn't involve drive by shootings and the kind of racism i already saw and experienced every day. he was out there running from monsters and dodging eldritch storms while uncovering the ancient secrets of a chaos ridden society all while needing a respirator to breathe and wearing a dope gasmask fit. his name isn't some stereotypical "black" name, it's rail which is weird but i always thought that was cool as fuck. he's a character that if he wasn't described as "dark skinned and dreadlocked" in his intro, people would just up and assume he's white because you know why. his blackness is not his character, it's just a trait and he's treated like any other teenage orphan thief archetype only he's way fucking cooler because he has a gas mask and a dope ass artifact.

i will not tolerate any rail or rail/moa slander. he's a bad ass mother fucker and she's an equally bad ass secondary protag who's parents were rebels against the unjust political and economic powers at be and follow in their footsteps. she's also a very active participant in the story even though she could easily have been nothing more than a helpless damsel due to her waifish and sickly presence.

their friends to more arc is a part of the story's progression and their character growth, it is not the main plot point and i'm only spoiling that explicitly because if y'all really don't want to read a story with a m/f couple you can avoid this. but i will say that if you are among the shockingly common many who will straight up tune out when a guy and girl fall in love i really do think you have issues. like i get when it's forced in a really obnoxious way but a lot of y'all will read absolute garbage just because it's gay rep and then sleep on shit like this or other really cool books like hold me closer necromancer (completely different topic but i will rant about that next cause it's my next reread). it's sad to me y'all actively choose to miss out on cool shit because you apparently hate straight people so much that it will completely ruin something that's unique in every other way.

and again, highkey sick of people writing off m/f interracial couples as if the idea of black men being with white women isn't still demonized irl and rare in the media. this book was for kids, written in the mid 00s, and it managed to do what most mainstream media still rarely ever does.

#long post #rant #babbles #im reading again :)#and i am apparently VERY passionate about it :D

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mousehole5000 · 4 years

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tgcf chapters 107 - 120 this is one where i give some Opinions. i do overall like hualian a lot but i have some quibbles

wait why am i still taking screenshots? i can copy/paste again afskldfjasad

It really was hard to tell whether people would feel happy after watching such performances. However, in truth, slaughter and the sight of blood did create excitement in people. Whether or not there was fear, after the initial shock was over, a rush of adrenaline would be produced in the heart- me watching horror movies

“Shi Qingxuan said. “Then, Your Highness, Crimson Rain Sought Flower! I order you to—to immediately strip each other’s clothing!” - djslkadjlsd WHY DID HE SPECIFICALLY SAY THEY HAD TO STRIP EACH OTHER THISALSKDJ is this a normal thing is it a wingman attempt what is happening

“I’ll tell you what it is,” he said softly. “To watch with your own eyes your beloved be trampled and ridiculed, yet be unable to do anything. That’s the worst suffering in the world.” ... “Ming Yi asked, “What’s the biggest regret of your life?”- when truth or dare gets a bit too real

On the side, Hua Cheng was still only observing, and was already bored to the point where he’d changed back into his red robes. Then he changed to black robes again. Then to white robes. Almost every time Xie Lian looked back, he would be donning a different appearance, and with every new look there were different hairstyles, and different accessories, and different boots, and so on; sometimes playful, sometimes elegant, sometimes deadly, sometimes glamourous. Xie Lian was growing dizzy from all the colours and kept looking back, unable to look away. - THIS ISNT THE TIME HUA CHENG. YOURE PRIMPING. THE WINDMASTER HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED AND YOURE PRIMPING

obsessed with xie lian not being able to figure out to use the windmaster’s fan and just. using it to SMACK

also windmaster??? whats going on??? :( i know some things from spoilers like who is not to be trusted but i really have no clue whats happening rn

anyways back to puqi shrine lets check on those kids also can we PLEASE get some funds for this restoration smh. hua cheng and xie lian doing mundane hard labor together to fulfill prayers.... :pleading:

jailbreak in the heavens 2: dig a tunnel

Sure enough, the moment Ming Yi put pressure on his shovel, a hole opened up before them. With the shovel raised, he burrowed crazily ahead while Shi Qingxuan, in the middle, cheered him on crazily. As the only non-crazy person, Xie Lian brought up the rear. That treasured shovel of the Earth Master was indeed magical, and with only a few strokes, a new tunnel of over ten meters was dug. - anybody remember mulch diggums from the artemis fowl series? this is much more dignified than that but i think this is only the second time ive read a character just starting digging a tunnel as a plot point

okay so much is going on i wish i hadnt spoiled who certain characters actually are for myself but i have no one to blame but me for a) not blacklisting spoilers at all and b) just having a little freefall through the tags. oh well. anyway heavenly college admissions scandal except way worse. the corruption extends to the heavens and the windmaster is having a very bad day

i guess we’re having a high seas adventure now?

im gonna keep it real im getting tired of how often we get told how handsome hua cheng is. i know its all xie lian’s pov and while im not terribly familiar with it i know what genre we’re working with and im assuming thats pretty typical. its something i dont much care for in general and idk maybe it sounds better in the original but ngl its starting to make me roll my eyes. love you goth king but god okay we get it.

i guess what i will say about hualian so far is that overall i like them and i like how they interact in general they have a lot of nice moments and they just genuinely seem to like each other which is really nice to see EXCEPT for when it actually comes to things that could be romantic or sexual which is a shame bc i dont think it has to be like this. again disclaimer that im only reading a translation and dont know everything might not have all the knowledge necessary to accurately criticize etc etc and im assuming a lot of this is expected from the genre (disclaimer to this disclaimer that i cant say that for sure its just based on things ive picked up about the bl genre over the years) but idk like xie lian was so distressed after their underwater kiss scene. it was kind of uncomfortable to read and maybe im being unfair i know his cultivation is based around abstinence or whatever but idk i dont care for it. and that scene alone doesnt have to be a bad thing like idk i guess its his first kiss ever (?) and it would make sense if he feels weird about it but i just have my doubts thats going to be addressed or resolved in a satisfying way. also im like. dude everyone is like centuries old. xie lian’s been on earth for 800 years. has he really never met or heard of a gay person during all this time? maybe he hasnt idk what he got up to yet maybe that’s actually a thing. also same thing with the reactions from the immortals to xie lian in a dress and characters like the windmaster like again you’re all centuries old and its not uncommon to be able to just completely change gender presentation. why are you all weird about a man wearing a woman’s dress? i just feel like that shouldnt be a big deal to these characters idk

also again not going to lie part of this that im not really a big fan of reading romance in general. yes i am reading this book. yes i do read and write a lot of fanfic that includes or centers romance. im multifaceted. but really what im talking about is the like physical side of it and descriptions im extremely picky about it. ill give an example. early on in the torture pit (or whatever it was called i cant remember lol) when xie lian kind of accidentally felt up hua cheng in the dark when he was being carried. i dont think thats a bad thing to have happen between the two romantic leads i think thats fine and good to include that early but i just did not enjoy reading it when it happened idk maybe it was the wording and i do think that moments like these work better in a visual medium. ive definitely read het romance that reads like this and i wasnt a fan of that either lol same with fanfic i get tired when writers go on and on about how hot one characters finds another character. this isnt a huge criticism of it like i said im picky but again like with the way that hua cheng is described it just makes me roll my eyes sorry kings

okay back to the reading. this whole saving the fishermen thing feels like a big set up for something narrative-wise. hua cheng specifically insisted on coming and i know one of the characters involved ends up dying im wondering if thats now it would be a good time tbh if things get just a bit too unfortunate during this heavenly calamity... and the brothers are notably not having a harmonious time... also tho it feels very likely we’ll just have another Hualian Moment (tm)

In such a situation, Pei Ming still acted the same. In the evening, when they rescued a few fishermen girls, so scared their eyes were blurry from tears, he held them in his embrace and soothed them with a gentle voice; a true show of honeyed romance, affectionate and charming. - pei ming please get pickled again.

also its funny that hua cheng is just kinda hanging out and everyone else just has to deal with it

Looking down from above, the entire area was painted in a terrifying black. It was easy to see the collision between the two different-coloured currents. Their fierce battle was what formed this enormous whirlpool. As the eye swallowed the ship whole, the two currents of water separated. However, the battle was far from over. Like two venomous vipers, they continued to snap at each other. Each collision was followed by a mountain of angry waves. - this pretty dope ngl. also love our wind and earth masters just chilling on a shovel i dig it. hehe

Yet, other than discovering Hua Cheng had a fine body, there were no other finds. Xie Lian was at his wit’s end and started to worry. - okay see this one’s funny im just also irritated bc im like WE KNOW!!! WE GET IT HE’S HOT AND XIE LIAN THINKS HE’S HOT OKAY GOT IT

okay kiss #2 again its not the kisses themselves its xie lian’s reaction it just bothers me idk im not saying i need him to be super into it and completely unconflicted about it rn but he’s just so freaked out about it and idk i just dont really like it just feels weird i dont care for that aspect of it. also dude hua cheng is a ghost and he did this exact same thing for you before just chill. i wish instead of xie lian literally running away while screaming that hes sorry he was just like “oh haha youre fine thats cool im gonna go look around the woods i dont feel weird about this at all haha” like idk its kind of funny but when its literally our two romantic leads i just feel like its confusing like it kind of makes me feel like they shouldnt be together if one of them freaks out this much again considering the fact that they are both CENTURIES old. i know i know xie lian is an 800 year old virgin but. he hasn’t been like this about anything else so yeah idk like it still could have been awkward and funny i just dont think it needed to be so :/ that being said it was funny that xie lian was then internally like “oh i did it wrong? perhaps i should ask him for more.. instructions....” if that actually happens i might like it bc it would complete this little watery theme

Before he finished, he immediately remembered. Coffin wood. There were trees here everywhere; and a deceased? There was one right before his eyes. Sure enough, Hua Cheng smiled. “Won’t it be fine once I lie inside? - love that hua cheng just sat on the fact that he can turn anything into a coffin. that would have been really useful information earlier but no he just waited until everyone but xie lian was gone afjaklsdjf

also i do think that oblivious xie lian thinking “wow whoever it is that hua cheng fancies is an idiot for not liking him back theyre totally taking him for granted :/” is kind of funny and sweet. actually the whole conversation they have at the campfire is good and im bookmarking it to think about later

“...You on top and me on the bottom,” Xie Lian replied. “Isn’t top and bottom the same?” Hua Cheng asked. - okay im sorry but. mood whenever theres discourse about top/bottom dynamics for a ship im just like jesus christ i dont care. tbh i rarely read fanfiction if its just sexual and ngl if i see a fic specifically tag characters as top or bottom i wont read it lmfao. especially when people have really strong opinions about this stuff when theres nothing canonical to back it up like headcanon all you want but whenever i see people argue about it im just like no offense but go work out your own sexual issues and dynamics instead of arguing with strangers on the internet about who’s a top and who’s a bottom. sorry to be mean but just thats how i feel lol

this was mostly a ramble with a few excerpts but im getting sleepy im going to TRY to take a break from this for like a day but we’ll see how that goes i do very much want to know what happens. anyway if you read this whole thing hiiiiii sorry for subjecting you to my opinions on top/bottom discourse

#minors dni #reading this is weird its like wow this is pretty great actually im having a blast #and then there's these moments that are like...... hmmmm.#idk they havent been awful i just think theyre :/#still funny tho ill give it that #tgcf liveblog

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aforgottenballad · 5 years

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Feelings on Sally Face Episode 5

Under a read more for obvious reasons, includes heavy spoilers and potentially triggering subjects.

Disclaimer: I might miss-remember some parts of the story or have missed a piece of lore that would settle minor complaints. I am however disappointed in the ending as a whole and in some of the very harmful tropes included in it. But I’m also just some dude online with an opinion, and you can stop reading at any time.

Rant under cut.

Alright ya’ll. I’ve had a couple days to digest the ending to Sally Face. While playing, I genuinely enjoyed some elements of the game. The chapter started on a dark but nearly hopeful note. Neil and Ash were still working to bring the cult down. It seemed likely Sal would be resurrected. Todd had apparently escaped the hospital, and that had potential to be either a very very good or very very bad thing. Maple was possessed by whatever fucked up the souls of the other apartment tenants, but hey! At least her and Neil weren’t in on the cult like so many fans predicted. Unfortunately, this series has a way of getting darker and darker as it progresses. First thing that bugged me was the lore drop about how the cult was founded. A Native American tribe. Right. Because why wouldn’t Indigenous peoples be in a story without being part of some mystical occult backstory, portrayed as mysterious historical props who worshiped something dark and evil instead of being portrayed as human beings.

But I continued. I really enjoyed playing as Ashley and getting some insight into her character. I enjoyed the task of planting the C4 in the temple... catacomb... thing. We get to see Travis again! I was excited that a lot of us were right about him being indoctrinated but also working to fight the cult from the inside. We knew he had some good in him after all.

When Ash tries to resurrect Sal, we get even more insight into her character, and unfortunately a lot of it is “Grieving, distraught, and full of self-blame”. I want to hug her. Sal’s spirit is apparently revived by those pyramids, and he can dimension warp. We meet Jim, or what’s left of him, and he doesn’t give a fuck about anything anymore but agrees to help Sal anyway. This is, narratively speaking, weird as hell. His entire character arc for four episodes was “Loved his family so much he sacrificed himself to save them”, and suddenly he’s just some glowy dude attached to Magic Spirit Tubes who doesn’t give half a shit. I guess it makes sense as a way to wrap up why he’s been able to drift between worlds but... if he doesn’t care about any of that anymore why help Sal? And what about Rosenberg? Is she like Jim, or do we just have to assume she’s magical because her family helped found the cult? (Explained in an easter egg later on, because this game doesn’t just drop its lore. Not even the CRUCIAL lore. You have to achievement hunt for it.) Sal can enter various doors in the House In The Void to step into alternate realities, and this was my favorite aspect of the game. Each door has a different art style, and I really liked seeing these alternate realities. Steve probably worked the hardest and longest on drawing out and coding these scenes. I genuinely applaud the man for the work put into this endeavor I’m assuming all by himself.

Meanwhile, Ash tries to unbind Larry’s soul from the tree house he died in, which doesn’t work. Did we ever find out why his body was never found? No? Ok that seems important.

After each puzzle, Sal’s body is restored a little bit at a time, but even after turning on all the pyramids and solving the mysteries behind all three doors, he can’t make it back to the “real” world. So Ashley kills herself. Or tries to. Because apparently that’s the only way to complete the ritual, and also because she feels really bad about not unbinding Larry’s soul and about not fixing Sal. Again, I want to hug her, but I have to watch her hurt herself instead, cause Steve doesn’t let us have nice things.

Okay, so this is a gorey game. We know. But one of the BIGGEST no-nos suicide prevention networks will tell you when consulting them about mental illness and suicide in media is NOT to show a graphic suicide in progress. Steve is aware a lot of his fans are A) Young teens to young adults B) Struggling with mental illness.

His main character suffers from depression and anxiety and this fact has resonated with hundreds of fans. It’s irresponsible to purposefully include a graphic suicide attempt, but he did it last chapter, showing a gunshot suicide’s aftermath, then he did it again with Ashley. Call me a wiener if you like, point out the graphic scenes from earlier in the game and call me a hypocrite for not being upset by that, but you have to admit the Spongebob-close-up-shot look to those scenes have a totally different feel. Speaking as someone who actually has a pretty thick skin, but is concerned about the fans who might be in a worse place or who could be as young as 12, that was fucked up.

Anyway, Ash’s attempt doesn’t take, because she’s struck by magic lightning, which infuses Sal’s soul into her. Now her arm is one of those stretchy sticky hands, but with bio luminescence and the ability to kick cultist ass. I actually thought this part was really cool, and was super ready to go on a cultist smacking spree. But again, we can’t have nice things and before we get to do anything badass we have to look at gruesome imagery again.

You get to see Void Larry, who is now old and a wizard or something, but first...

Surprise! Maple and Neil are dead! Not just dead, but hung up from hooks covered in blood! And naked!

Hey?? Hey Steve????? You know how they’re both POC?? And that lynching imagery is EXTREMELY NOT GOOD?!!????

“Two white people are hung up with them” YEAH? WELL WE’VE NEVER SEEN THOSE CHARACTERS BEFORE. THEY’RE JUST RANDOM PEOPLE.

I’ve seen people arguing “The white characters go through terrible things too” but it’s still really fucked up that by the end of the game, every. Single. Person of color. In the game. Has died. Gruesomely. It’s a gorey, dark, bleak game, and white characters die as well, gruesomely; but not all of them. None of them that are named are shown strung up, naked. That’s fucked up. That isn’t okay.

There are also a total of three gay characters in this game. One is Todd, who goes through the standard “bad bad stuff” the game is used to, is the white one, and he survives. One is Neil, one of the aforementioned people of color who died horribly and who only really existed to be Todd’s boyfriend and therefore a source of angst for Todd when he dies. The third is Travis, another man of color, and an abuse victim, who dies to fulfill his character arc as an abuse victim, which is also really shitty to see over and over again as an abuse survivor.

Look, I know Steve pulled a lot of inspiration from old TV shows and horror series that probably weren’t all “politically correct”. I know it’s always been kind of an edgy and dark game. I know Steve probably didn’t think about the repercussions of all his narrative choices. But I also know he actively ignored some people offering to educate him on issues he has no experience with. I know he worked hard on this game, by himself, but we as fans have paid him and waited for years and it isn’t selfish or ungrateful to be hurt and disappointed. He knows his audience is diverse, he knows a lot of us were attracted to the game because of a gender nonconforming main character, a main character who struggles with mental illness, a cast that isn’t 100% white and conventionally attractive. Of course he didn’t need to change the plot for us! It’s his game, his vision, but the least he could have done is research how to not actively hurt and alienate a good portion of us. I don’t think anyone is bad or racist for still finding solace in the characters and in what the story was before this, I’m not attacking you personally, whoever is reading this. I, personally, still have loads of Sally Face art in my queue, I still have active role plays going on, my Sal wig is sitting like 8 feet away waiting for the next time my friends want to take cosplay pictures. I still enjoyed playing the game for the most part. Without this game I wouldn’t even know most of my current friends. It’s just really shitty how it ended like this, and a lot of people I talk to daily either feel too sick to even talk about the game anymore after seeing people like them treated like trash by the narrative or try to focus on the good things they got out of just being part of the fandom but don’t feel comfortable supporting the developer anymore.

Even if there wasn’t all these hurtful tropes packed into the game, and yes, even after unlocking the epilogue, the game just feels cold. It feels rushed, probably because of how much time went into the alternate dimension gimmick. I wish Steve had at least consulted people over the script. It felt like not only did he pour all his work into experimenting with the mixed media, he also just took whatever expectations the fans had and went somewhere completely different just to have his story be “unpredictable”. That isn’t always a good thing. Plot twists, downer endings, dark and scary imagery, all of these things can be done beautifully, but in this case it felt like he just wanted the series to end. The game didn’t subvert expectations, it fed into the harmful stereotypes and tropes all the fans were so hopeful it wouldn’t.

...On top of not making any sense unless you’re able to 100% all the puzzles. And even when you do, it feels like all the bad stuff happened for no reason. The ending doesn’t conclude anything. Even when you unlock the epilogue, all it tells you is that a third of the world has died and that the main cast haven’t accomplished much besides “Trying to help”. Sal and Todd have powers now, but that isn’t elaborated on much. Larry’s spirit is missing, if he even exists in any plane at all anymore. It doesn’t even mention what’s going on with Ash. It just feels like nothing mattered.

#sally face #long post #analysis #sally face spoilers #chapter 5 spoilers

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albatris · 5 years

Note

Sorry in advance for the potentially dumb question, but: do you suffer from psychosis/schizophrenia? I’ve seen you reblog a lot of posts about it, of course, but i was curious. Also, if its not too personal, if you do, how much does it impact your writing/the weirdness glitchiness factor?

Not a dumb question at all, you’re all good!

So this is kinda…….. not something I’ve spoken about in a great amount of detail or specifics on this blog? And talking about it directly is actually kinda weird! I wasn’t expecting this to feel weird, but it totally does! So please excuse how long this answer took me hahahahaha

So I mean YEAH psychosis is a thing that I possess, this is a thing that resides inside my brain and occasionally outside of it………. I’m not schizophrenic, I’m more in the schizotypal realm of things, which is like….. I mean, that’s a label that best encompasses my experiences and so far it’s the only label that’s been vaguely and tentatively applied to me that’s ever really made me go “oh hey yeah that would actually explain a whole fucking lot” but like. Bits of it are still kinda wonky. Mental health is wonky, I think, generally speaking…………….

I was gonna talk a bit here about my specific experiences but, like, I really had no idea where to start with those and I don’t actually know how relevant it’d be to this question aside from being vaguely tangential in terms of psychosis………… so uhhhh I’m gonna jump ahead and talk WRITING which is WAY more in my comfort zone apparently

and oh my god this was so many words, I’m so sorry in advance, I have no idea if any of this is actually like………… super interesting? But I enjoyed the opportunity to talk about it so cheers for that! I think!

(and I’m sorry if you were expecting like………… a really short sharp sweet answer, I don’t really deal in shorts or sharps or sweets, I mostly deal in, uh………. rambling)

Rest of this post, under the cut, which I hope actually works on mobile, for the sake of your dashboards -

So this message was an adventure for me into how the questions “How does it affect your writing?” and “How does it affect the glitchiness/horror factor?” are actually two entirely separate things. I mean, they’re two separate things because I’m assuming by “glitchiness factor” you’re thinking specifically of the stuff in my recent ATDAO posts about body horror and the unreality? In which case………… let me get to that in a moment

And since this post got super long, I’m going to start with my extremely short summed-up answer, and then elaborate on it………

In terms of how it affects my writing? In lots of direct ways!

In terms of how it affects the glitchiness and horror aspects? In some weird roundabout ways! It’s not where the horror stems from, but it’s where the response to the horror stems from and where a lot of my descriptive choices stem from! It’s not the horror, but it’s kind of the lens through which I explore the horror!

AND NOW HERE WE GO………… WORDS AHOY

So in terms of how it affects my writing, generally speaking

boring straightforward answer first:

It’s something that crops up in a super literal sense, just in that I’ve got a fair few characters who are psychotic to some degree or another, and it’s something that plays into how they relate to the world and their specific character voice and how they respond to the situations they find themselves in.

somewhat irrelevant, it’s, uhhh….. something that I feel interacts with themes in a different sort of way, too. ‘Cause a lot of times there’s, like….. stories about people going on cool magical sci-fi quests, and there’s Stories About Psychotic People, and there’s not an awful lot of overlap between the two unless it’s in the context of “and the whole magical quest was a delusion all along!” which, ew

and for fucking REAL there is so much interesting ground to cover and opportunities for different perspectives and new avenues through which themes can be explored, like, in that overlap of stories. It’s something I wish I saw a lot more of in fiction! Which is another huge driving force in, like, why I write stuff the way I do

and now slightly more interesting:

Worldbuilding! It’s definitely something that plays into worldbuilding and like…. my love of creating stories that are kinda just……. “reality but a little bit to the left” if that makes sense?

Whether this is something like Undertow, where there’s a degree of magic woven into the fabric of the universe, where things are connected by invisible threads, where I can give opinions to objects and feelings to the weather and the streetlights, where the earth itself has a voice? Or whether it’s something like ATDAO, where reality is coming undone at the seams and the fact that everything is just a little lopsided and haywire is a Mundane Part Of Everyday Life? That’s something I find super cathartic and quite lovely to play around in! I’ve always experienced the world as Just A Little Bit To The Left, and writing was one of the first avenues I found to kinda…. channel and explore and expand on that and put my feelings of strangeness into words?

It’s kinda, like, I like being able to share that kind of vision with others in some sort of way, and not necessarily in a frightening or horrible way, y’know?

THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT TO SAY that anything I write is, like, 100% a direct mirror or my own life and how I see the world lmao. A lot of my writing takes experiences and feelings and little facets of how I experience the world and works them into something that’s often more literal and concrete, or it’ll start out as My Thing and as I’m writing, it sorta blooms into something totally different. But bits of it are in there, sure, although they change shape a lot! And it’s definitely in there with a lot of the general overarching feelings and concepts! Yeah!

One other thing that kinda leads onto my next topic is, uh…… that a lot of how I interpret events and meanings in the world around me can be kind of frightening and threatening, and that’s not reeeaaaally something I want to delve into too much in my writing from a worldbuilding perspective? So generally the parts of ATDAO’s “reality but a little to the left” that start to twist into horror and unreality are things I’ve constructed specifically to serve that purpose, more so than things I’ve pulled directly from my experiences.

AND NOW IN TERMS OF GLITCHY HORROR STUFF HELL YEAH

so again I’m assuming by “glitchiness factor” that’d be all the unreality and all the body horror stuff and weird horror? Which, fuck yeah! Despite my squeamishness when it comes to horror, this is one odd little corner of ATDAO that I’m extremely fond of hahahaha

And, like, initially when I considered this question I was like…. oh, this is not something that really has any of its roots in psychosis or my experiences of mental illness. And that’s…… kiiiiiind of true? My construction of the unreality and its contents is a lot of me just me sitting at my laptop going “Hahahaha that makes me physically nauseous! That’s the worst thing I’ve ever come up with!! I’m adding it in immediately!!”

But yeah, it definitely does factor in, though! Maybe not in as interesting a way as you’d hoped?

So first off, my experiences are something that sorta plays into my word choice and the specific way I use language in those scenes. And I’m also gonna go ahead and say that dissociation and specifically derealisation are also things I draw from pretty heavily for those kinda……. more glitchy horror-ish parts? So for me, my experiences factor more into HOW I describe the content more so than any of the horrid glitchy gory content itself.

‘cause it’s kinda, like, a specific kind of fear, I think, it’s a little bit off-beat and weirdly-worded and disjointed and it hits your senses all wrong, it doesn’t make an awful lot of sense but it’s still extremely real. There’s a lot of weird or unsettling bullshit that goes on in the unreality that there’s no convenient Real World Descriptive Equivalent for. Like, cityscapes made entirely of soundwaves, the aforementioned body horror stuff in earlier posts, places that are a complete and total lack of Anything where there’s not even space or colour or texture or light, senses getting all tangled up into each other, something being simultaneously bigger than the sun and smaller than an ant, voices unravelling like twine? LOTS OF WEIRD, BASICALLY

There’s no nice neat right way to describe that, and if there was, it probably wouldn’t pack the punch it needs to, yeah? But I love that kinda shit, I get to pull from a bunch of really weird sensory experiences and feelings I have no real way to articulate and I get to use language in creative ways to evoke the same feelings, the same experiences, the same sense of fear and wrongness? I get to draw from weird shit to describe a bunch of weird shit that makes NO fucking sense whatsoever and that can’t realistically be tied up with words

Point is, they’re experiences I draw from in order to Get Real Fuckin Weird With Words

and getting weird with words in this specific way is CATHARTIC as FUCK dude it’s so good, it’s one of my favourite things. This is, like, the dark edgy version of what I talked about earlier in regards to worldbuilding and me painting a nice odd vision for people to share in hahahaha

“let me take you on a nice gentle stroll through my imagination” vs me supplexing you to the ground and beating the shit out of you with a bat

And one other thing is just……. I’m sorry, I’m super tired, this bit is probably gonna be jumbled and wordy and maybe not super relevant but uhhhhhhh

So the unreality is not something I initially drew from any particular place in my psyche, but it IS something I’ve come to construct in a specific way, and a lot of it is something I build with the questions of like…… “How does a psychotic character respond to this input?” and “What does this scenery draw out in my character and how does it challenge them?” in mind, so I guess………… in that sense, there’s definitely still a fairly big impact? But kind of in a sideways way. The unreality is not so much based on psychosis, but it’s something I use to highlight specific elements of it, I guess, but mostly in terms of the skills it draws out

‘cause like. in ATDAO the only characters who kinda get to butt heads with the unreality aside from that one random dead car driver who may or may not be vaguely half alive in a state of horrific limbo are Jacob and Tris, and like

I don’t ever really frame Tris’s psychosis as some horrible terrible thing he’s burdened with that makes life a terrible living hell 24/7 but it is, like………. something he struggles a lot with over the course of the story, both in general terms and in terms of people not taking him seriously about the Extremely Real Fantastical Nonsense that’s going on and in general being hesitant to trust his perceptions of reality. And ALSO I guess in terms of just…….. the way he relates to the fact that he’s been dragged into some Extremely Real Fantastical Nonsense? And him wrestling with how he’s supposed to believe in something like that when no one else can see the evidence and everyone is telling him he’s just crazy, and how “ridiculous interdimensional dumbass sci-fi quest” is something that’s reserved for other people, because he’s already been there like four times already and it has extremely different implications for him

In terms of mental illness, all my protags have patches of the story where they make it through kinda “in spite” of their struggles with mental illness (though that’s a sentence I fuckin hate) and other patches where mental illness is just a thing they deal with alongside whatever plots they have going on…… but their experiences with mental illness are also something that gives them specific skills and perspectives and ways of understanding the world that are invaluable, and some of the most important parts of the story are the parts where they make it through specifically BECAUSE of those skills and perspectives

Which is kind of the Whole Thing With The Unreality, that’s its whole deal

The unreality is a fucking huge turning point for Tris as a character, because it’s specifically because of his experiences with psychosis that he’s able to navigate it so effectively, it’s because of the specific skills he’s developed and the practice he’s had in similar circumstances

not, like, the SAME circumstances, but things from other contexts that kind of, transfer, circumstances where the same skills are applicable

‘cause like, turns out, he’s really good at navigating confusing frightening hellscapes where nothing makes sense and mis-stepping can get you killed, because he’s had a whole lot of practice just like. existing as a person with psychosis in a weird apocalypse world where reality is collapsing in unpredictable ways. He spends a lot of his life trying to make sense of reality and figure out the rules and developing countless systems for navigating the world safely, which he often needs to adjust at a moment’s notice, or completely scrap and reconstruct. He’s had a lot of experience of just sorta waking up and whatever bullshit is going on he’s just gotta be like “ok cool so this is what we’re doing today, I have to deal with this, so how can I deal with this”. He’s used to grounding himself and problem-solving even under intense pressure and when he’s terrified and regardless of whatever objectively horrifying nonsense is happening around him. He’s used to sorting the horrifying things that are not dangerous from the horrifying things that are extremely dangerous.

He’s basically the one character who can get tossed into the unreality and actually work with it and figure out the rules even though everything is screaming and glitched out and trying to kill him, he’s spent most of his life developing the perfect skill set for it

(and like, this is the first point in the story where he sorta realises that his specific way of viewing the world is going to be a strength rather than a weakness, but like. despite the fact that Tris is basically a walking panic attack he’s actually always been the one of the team who’s been the most adept at navigating daily life with the apocalypse, it’s just not something he’s ever really picked up on)

and uh

that’s kind of a vaguely irrelevant note to end on, actually

HEY THAT WAS SO MANY WORDS I’M SO FUCKING SORRY

I DON’T EVEN HAVE A NEAT WRAP UP TO THIS POST

MY WRAP UP WAS THAT SUMMARY AT THE START

IF YOU READ THIS FAR I HOPE IT WAS AT LEAST SOMEWHAT INTERESTING

#Anonymous #to clarify: i'm not at all opposed to talking about my own personal experiences with psychosis but also #i feel like that would just make this post too rambly and rambly in the incorrect direction #atdao #undertow #psychosis #schizotypal #long post #probably also not as well-edited as i'd like there's bits of this that i've missed and bits that are just real poorly worded #also in terms of like. characters?#there were super super super early versions of tris i wrote when i was much much younger where he like #clearly experienced psychosis but it wasn't something i registered at the time cuz i just assumed #that level of paranoia was a totally normal thing that everyone dealt with #lmao #anyway. well. that sure was some words!#i'm going to go sit in the dark now #i'm so glad that kit is still hilariously underdeveloped in terms of his plotline otherwise i would have probably #gone on a several paragraph ramble about him too #djhfdfkjhgskdfjg #''hi i'm logan what the fuck is a filter''

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comicteaparty · 4 years

Text

June 29th-July 5th, 2020 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from June 29th, 2020 to July 5th, 2020. The chat focused on Without Moonlight by Tantz Aerine.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Without Moonlight by Tantz Aerine~! (https://withoutmoonlightcomic.com/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace until July 5th, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Discussions are freeform, but we do offer discussion prompts in the pins for those who’d like to have them. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic! Whether you finish the comic or can only read a few pages, everyone is welcome to join and chat with us!

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 1

1. What did you like about the beginning of the comic?

2. What has been your favorite moment in the comic (so far)?

3. Who is your favorite character?

4. Which characters do like seeing interact the most?

5. What is something you like about the art? If you have a favorite illustration, please share it!

6. What is a theme you like that the comic explores?

7. What do you like about the comic’s story or overall related content?

8. Overall, what do you think the comic’s strengths are?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

I really like the flash forward aspect of the beginning - keeping the scene in the back of your mind really helps keep things tense as you see the story build towards the scene we see at the start.

(it also helps with the tone - it would be pretty jarring to go from kids stealing food from trucks to the scenes where bodies start dropping if we hadn't established that dark tone early on)

One thing I like about the comic is how the text colors switch based off languages - blue is greek, black is german, red is english, and i believe green is italian. Really makes the language switches easier to keep track of in the back of your head.

I like the comic's theme of... "your actions have consequences", essentially. There are dozens of moments where something bad happened because of one character's action or lack of action, and it's a matter of... when there are so many factors, who should be held responsible for these bad events?

RebelVampire

I like that the beginning of the comic is...more light-hearted despite the situation? I mean it's tragic and I don't mean to paint the situation lightly, but it's also kids and kids are like beacons of hope. So despite it all there were happy smiling faces. Before the chaos descended. My favorite moment in the comic so far was probably when Basil was rescuing Fotis and Wolff decides to let them go. It was a rare moment of humanity where there was no whose side is whose. Just two people doing a bro favor because neither thought a child deserved to be tortured. My favorite character is Basil. Basil really is just the down-to-earth dude he kind of finds that balance between doing what's right but with principle. And he also gets going when the going gets tough. And I'm sure nothing ever bad happened to him in this comic. My favorite characters interacting are probably Fotis and Martha right now. I like this dynamic that they're brought together by tragedy. So it's kind of interesting to see that bond, while also kind of experiencing this weird age gap where even though Fotis is much younger, he grew up almost instantly cause of tragedy. Something I like about the art is just kind of the grim color palettes. The comic is not overly bright, and I think this choice really enhances the grim situation of the comic. It also adds more of a sense of realism because WWII is serious business and was not fun at all for anybody. For themes, I love that the comic kind of explores demonization vs. humanity, especially through Wolff. It is always extremely to demonize the side you're not on, and we see Wolff both do this himself and be a recipient of it. And the comic really wants us to ask are they monsters, or are they still, unfortunately, humans doing really shitty things.

As for the comic's overall story, I love that not only is it historical in its setting, but just that the comic really throws no punches. You have people dying in gruesome ways, torture, espionage, double agents, greed, etc. Just like everything you'd expect regarding war. In regards to strengths, honestly, what I just said above. So many stories are really, really terrified to actually go deep into that grim reality that is war. And even fewer are willing to show that war very rarely has heroes since at the end, it's people killing people which is not cool. And I think this really makes the comic stand out since there are parts that are gonna stick with me for years.

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 2

9. What is your takeaway in regards to the comic’s themes about war and the horrors and tragedy that happen because of it? In regards to these themes, how do you feel about Arthur Wolff, and do you think it’s possible for him to be redeemed and/or at least forgiven?

10. What do you think the comic has to say about survival and hope, especially when humans are faced with the most horrid of circumstances? What moment stood out to you the most regarding this? Also, who do you think will survive the story?

11. Do you think anything will actually happen to Orestes in regards to his actions so far? If so, what unintended affects might occur because of whatever does happen? Additionally, what do you think will happen to his contact, Iris?

12. How do you think the events of the story will continue to change Fotis, and will it be for better or for worse? What about the other children? Given the historical base, what do you think they’ll even do once the occupation ends?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

RebelVampire

My takeaway from the comic is that war sucks, nobody wins, everyone suffers, and that even good people do some terrible stuff in the name of survival. However, within all that, we're all essentially human and have the capacity for good. Which is why I feel Wolff is an important character, since he's that shining beacon that reminds us that people on the worst side of history possible can still take a step back and go, "Wait a second." As for redemption and forgiveness, I think this is a yes an no. Can he redeem and forgive himself as far as he's personally concerned? Maybe someday. Will others? Probably not in a million years. In contrast to the above, I think that the comic also has strong messages that, even in the face of desperation, humans, as a whole, have a tendency to fight and that, much like everybody in Star Wars, will always have hope. As for the moment that stood out to me the most, I think it was actually the beginning when the kids are risking everything to get supplies. They know it's dangerous, and yet they persevere and don't give up despite being who'd you think would give up first. As for who will survive, maybe Alex cause Alex is toeing the line of safety and staying out of the spy drama. I think Orestes still won't be dealt with for a while, and if anything, will be the victim of vigilante justice because someone didn't want to wait for even a sham trial. I think that they won't realize in his traitorous ways though he really did help out, and will find themselves more at odd with the Nazis. As for Iris, she probably gonna die. Cause that's what happens when you play double agent. I think the events of the story really aren't gonna do good for Fotis, and, at the very least (and assuming he's not dead), he's going to be bitter and have a ton of PTSD. Probably the same for all the children, and I think overall they'll just feel lost once the occupation ends cause normalcy forms fast.

Tantz Aerine (Without Moonlight)

Thank you so much for all the thoughtful analysis and commentary @RebelVampire ! I'm so glad that you have found all these themes in my story

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 3

13. What are you most looking forward to seeing in regards to the comic?

14. Any final words of encouragement for the comic?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

RebelVampire

I am most looking forward to seeing if Fotis has some epiphany about the horrors of the path he's on. Right now I kind of think he's just kind of...going through the motions and acting mostly on anger. And so I'm interested to see if this will be the case throughout the rest of the story or if at some point his brain stops for a moment and goes "Hey wait a minute these are some pretty serious implications." I think either could change how his character development proceeds. My final words are that I admire this comic's bravery and risks. A lot of creators don't want to write about things like WWII because it's still a little too close to home and painful. But I think these topics are important to show with historical fiction cause not only is it an opportunity to teach about lesser known history in greater detail, but an opportunity to otherwise humanize an event that comes off different when you're just reading facts in a book. So bravo to this comic for doing that.

Tantz Aerine (Without Moonlight)

@RebelVampire Thank you so much! You honour me. Researching this comic has been both a revelation and a painful affair. As for Fotis, you're very right he IS very angry and very grieved at this point in time. We'll see how he will be soon! I can't begin to say how much your words warm my heart thank you again.

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Without Moonlight this week! Please also give a special thank you to Tantz Aerine for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Without Moonlight, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: https://withoutmoonlightcomic.com/

Tantz’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/withoutmoonlight

Tantz’s Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/tantzaerine'

Tantz’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/TantzAerine

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #book club #bookclub #webcomic bookclub #webcomic book club #comic tea party #ctp #without moonlight #tantz aerine

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morethanithoughtofficialblog · 5 years

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Chapter 11: And I had an anxiety attack... again.

In which the title describes the whole chapter

*Your POV*

I slammed the door behind me, fell to my knees, and closed my eyes. Today was such a shitty day I actually don't want to go back. But I have to. Unless I want to get fired, which actually doesn't sound THAT bad.

Wait... yeah, that sounds reasonable.

My apartment was just like my mind: a complete fucking mess that made no sense and looked like Narnia. But despite that, my personal laptop was hanging out on the small table I have in front of the TV. I sighed and went to the kitchen, trying not to worry.

It's been a while ever since I met the group of monsters and, honestly, I'm loving it! They are super nice and a part of me has changed a bit... so I'm becoming more dedicated to making them as happy as I can.

And that also refers to some of their complaints, like "you should seek a better job" or "this is dangerous for you, you should have something that makes you happy". And that's what I was about to do.

After taking my cup of coffee and I sat on the couch, I opened my laptop and started to search for different jobs and opportunities. I'm a scientist and a... politician? We could say that. I'm experienced in both terms and I'm really trying to look for a scientist post today. I want to do what I love and, well, I'm a science nerd. Fite me.

I just don't want to work in the Congress anymore. It's boring, it's lame, and I'm not going to stay in an office for the rest of my days- not when I'm starting to care about things. Alphys and Sans have said that they want to become part of the science world, but they have to study hard to get it. While I'm waiting for them, though, I'll make them proud and work in science!

While browsing around, I ended up on a Facebook page and noticed I had a shitton of notifications. Interested, I checked the groups and started to read the messages... bad idea...

Paula: Hey, monster lover! You should just go with them to the Underground, hah!

Anna: Jesus, when did we let this happen?

Anna: I thought you were smarter than this!

John: You are gonna put us in trouble

John: And it'll be all YOUR FAULT!

And so it went. I frowned slightly and decided to check Discord, trying to get distracted for a bit. My mind was starting to make bad moves, and I just couldn't make them real. What if it was better to leave the topic? Did I make a mistake? Should I start protesting AGAINST them?! Are they a threat to humans? Oh my God, what have I done? Should I-

Do you wanna get... Frisky?: Hey (Y/N)!

Do you wanna get... Frisky?: you wanna play UNO?

CoolSkeleton95: YES, HUMAN!

CoolSkeleton95: YOU SHOULD JOIN THE FUN!

I shook my head with a smile, knowing I could never do that to them. Not after the little and funny history we have together, and how much comprehensible they looked with my problems socializing. They've made laugh like there is no tomorrow and to learn a lot of things. I just can't wipe them away from their dreams. I just can't wipe them away from my life.

Smartass: Sure, right now?

puns are love, puns are life: we're startin' right now, kiddo.

puns are love, puns are life: join this round before undyne comes with her shitty strategies again

I giggled softly, remembering the stupid nicknames we all had in that Discord group. I immediately went for my headphones, then joined the chat.

"Hi!" I exclaimed, praying that everyone could hear me. Fortunately, they could.

"hello kid, ready to lose?" A deep voice said, which I immediately recognized it was Sans. Everyone seems to have a high-pitched voice comparing them with him. Heck, even my father would sound like a three-year-old girl if we compare their voices!

After a bit of playing stupid rounds of UNO and hearing Sans's awful puns, I lost track of time. Eventually, Sans and I ended up playing Dead by Daylight together, the skeleton by some coincidence having the game installed. And so talked privately from then, and... got used to the game, I suppose.

"DUDE WHAT THE-" I stopped myself before I could use a bad word, not knowing how he would react. I still don't feel comfortable enough to be my usual, swearing, and boring self around them. I'm trying to be as less boring as possible... but I know that I'm still boring, even if I, indeed, try hard.

"i hate this game soooooooo much... what if we play somethin' else?" he asked, making me sigh in relief. This game's no good for someone with anxiety, keep that in mind. Bad thing I'm kind of a masochist in that aspect.

"You hate a lot of games, don't you? And sure, any suggestions?"

"do you have... mortal kombat?"

Oooh

This is going to be interesting!

"Which one?"

"x, i'm too poor to buy the new one"

"Sure, I have it! I'll love to play it, it's been a while"

"cool cool, i'll invite you then"

And we played like for, what, hours? Mortal Kombat is sincerely one of my favorite sagas of videogames since I was a little child. Dolls? Nah, videogames were my thing since the beginning of times.

I forgot my problems, I forgot everything. It was just me, my character, and an angry Sans rattling his bones all over the mic. I was enjoying it, even if he tried to deconcentrate me with his jokes, that at the end were all just corny comments trying to make me flush but made me laugh instead.

I joked now and then as well, and hearing his laugh was such a gratifying feeling I couldn't do anything but to laugh with him. Besides, his laugh is quite contagious, and I'm easily influenced when other people laugh, so this got the best of me.

When I looked at the clock though, fear ran all over my body, and I stood quiet for some good minutes. I tried to contain my anxiety, to calm down. I took deep breaths and closed my eyes, telling myself I'll be just fine.

"(y/n), are you-"

"HOLY SHIT IT'S 1 AM WHAT THE FUCK- AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

...

Nice job, sweetie.

My mind was being a huge and stupid mess whenever those awful screams were out of my mouth. Sans wasn't answering, so I felt worse. I started panicking and creating ways to make him hate me less, and before I could say anything, I heard laughter.

His laughter.

"oh my god (y/n) you panic a lot" he said between breaths, while I just remained silent. What the- "i'm sorry, it's just... you should not worry about anything, k? remember you said tomorrow you don't have to work, k? just relax. nothing's wrong with staying late once in a while, right?"

"Wait, so you don't think I'm pathetic or anything like that?!"

"wha- of course not! everyone has their moments (y/n), and you have anxiety, for god's sake! it's totally normal for someone to freak out now and then. you shouldn't feel guilty of that"

How...

I felt tears trying to escape from my eyes and I hold them back, keeping my cool... temporarily. I draw a weak smile in my face, even if Sans couldn't see it.

"Thank you. I needed that" Aaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnd my voice broke down in the process. Shit.

"don't worry (y/n)" he said kindly, and I bet he was still wearing that permanent shit-eating grin. I chuckled to myself, slowly making tears disappear "hey, do you wanna meet up tomorrow? maybe you want some time to yourself, i know, but maybe you should try to interact more with people... since i'm assuming you don't"

I never thought I would get lectured by a skeleton. Guess life is unexpected, huh?

But I realized he was right. My social anxiety can only be solved by interacting with others. There is no escape, and I'm conscious of that. Besides, what can go wrong? Sans has been nothing but a nice guy, and I'm starting to enjoy his company a lot. Maybe I'll be able to consider him as a friend?

"I'd love that, thank you so much. I don't get to hang out often, so that means a lot"

"don't sweat it. everyone deserves a chance to express themselves"

We hung up the call with a quick "see you tomorrow" and I went straight to bed, never erasing that last sentence he said from my mind.

"Everyone deserves a chance to express themselves", huh? Maybe...

Maybe this is my chance

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

*Sans's POV*

We hung up the call and I let out a sigh. I never realized I was playing until late, mostly because Papyrus didn't come for his bedtime story, and so I lose track of time. I was having a good time though, but I can't be stubborn and keep her up any longer. Not after she almost had a heart attack.

She's nice, and she seems pretty genuine. Doesn't look like the type of girl that should hide anything, not with that anxiety of hers. She's a goddess in Mortal Kombat, though. She knew how to use almost every fighter perfectly, and I felt like a punching bag with jokes in its interior. The more she won, the more I joked. At least she laughed... a lot, actually. She's a good audience, just like Tori.

Then I remembered she cursed when she was starting to freak out, and I started to wonder if she uses "strong" language daily. Or well, at least in her head.

I looked over that beautiful website called Youtube and watched some memes, that are truly gold if you ask me. A sick and dark sense of humor combined with random things and retards living their lives- in one word, perfection. I would also watch Tumblr, but that site gave me a good uncomfortable feeling that I don't want to relive any sooner. I also wanted to check Wattpad, but ever since I knew that it was mostly FanFiction, I thought more about it. Then I remember that Alphys told me she had an account and I immediately never went to that place...

Alphys is scary sometimes, no one can judge me. Her weird FanFictions are pretty much apart from anything I like to read or write...

And yes, I'm a writer.

That's why I thought Wattpad would be a good idea...

Thank God I changed my mind.

I'm mostly a science fiction lover, but drama and suspense are not that bad. I also like a lot of horror novels, but I'm no good at writing one my self. Believe me, I tried. It's hard to make it as noncliché as possible, considering that paranormalities are a huge cliché themselves.

I always include romance in my stories though. I realized it's quite essential in defining people's personalities and actions. Besides, romantic scenes leave a nice drama feeling when they are not exaggerated, so I try to put them once in a while.

I'm currently writing a novel instead of a short story, but it's hella difficult if you are bone dry of ideas. It takes a skele-ton of effort to come up with something good, and it's harder to put it in words. I also need to do some more research, since it includes scientific things...

Ah, sci-fi. What would I do without it?

I'm also a classic novel lover. Macbeth it's just wonderful and Journey to the Center of the Earth are old masterpieces that have a special place in my soul. I read them when I was a kid, and I would do it over and over. But I also want to see what new books the surface has to offer- one of my wildest dreams is to visit the biggest libraries around the world, like the ones in Paris or in Tokyo. But that has to wait.

I'm tired, but I never get myself to sleep. I suffer insomnia since... quite a few time, actually. It all started with the first reset of that goddamn flower; it started whenever I realized that the timeline theory was real and that, whoever got the power- the DETERMINATION- had the entire world at their hands.

Flowey was first, then Frisk came and had the power. Now I don't know if she has it anymore, considering we are at the surface and anyone could be more determined than her. But there's still a chance she has time and space at the tip of her fingers, and with a snap, she can make everything and everyone I love disappear.

That kid... she probably wants to see me suffer. After everything I've done to stop her, she hates me even more. She's selfish. She's a prick. And I'll never forgive her.

She knew I would remember when she did that. She killed everyone I loved, she destroyed the little hope I had on my home... and laughed at my face about it. That fight, that crazy look in her eyes... I have nightmares about it. Whenever I see the kid, a part of me replaces it with the painful memories of past timelines.

And I can't make them stop. I can't erase that devilish and empty smile Frisk had. I can't erase the vision of that flower becoming a God before my eyes.

I can't erase Papyrus's smile still with hope before turning to dust.

I shook my head and sighed. Out of all the times, I can't bring myself now into thinking like that... not anymore. We're on the Surface now, for God's sake! I should be happy because now I can fulfill my happiest dreams!

...

I lack the motivation, though.

There's no hope for me, or that's what I think.

I want the best for everyone (except Frisk and Flowey; screw them), but me? Heh, this old sack of bones won't be his usual self any sooner. It's just... it's just stupid to think I'll ever be the casual and relaxed skeleton ever again. I'm paranoid. I'm scared. I'm a fucking coward trying to protect his brother, but being too useless to do anything about it.

I can't go back to Snowdin. I can't go back to that goddamn house. I can't.

I glanced over my desk and noticed the folder with the things for my education. I let a sigh, knowing that I would never be able to keep up with that kind of stress. Not if my mind it's worried about something else.

I turned off the lights and went to my bed, trying to clear my mind. I let a new human enter my life, one older than Frisk...

That doesn't mean it's less dangerous.

That doesn't mean she's not a murderer...

#sans x reader #sansxreader #more than i thought fanfiction #more than i thought #sans #x reader #undertale

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davidmann95 · 7 years

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why os batman great?

I tend to focus on the guy in the red cape at the expense of my second-favorite character, but let’s make something very, very clear: in terms of the sheer scale on which he and his iconography have imprinted onto the popular consciousness, the ratio of output to quality across all mediums for a character that’s experienced the kind of proliferation he has, and his ability to not only endure but remain at the forefront of the genre he practically co-founded across decades, Batman is easily the greatest superhero of all time.

Explaining why that’s the case is tricky to truly, substantively get right, because there’s a difference between what makes him great as a character, and what’s made him the most popular character in the world. Not to remotely denigrate the attention span/intellect of the average moviegoer or suggest they don't 'get it', but I have to imagine most people don’t love Batman because they've extensively thought about his complex motives and the fascinating symbolism that rules his world, but because he drives the world’s dopest car over to his job of suplexing crime into the pavement, which is valid because that rules. So we’ll start at the immediate mass-appeal stuff and work our way down, and the big one is something we’ve already touched on:

Batman’s cool as hell

There are certainly contrarian souls who would argue that Batman is not, in fact, relentlessly awesome. Think about him for a couple seconds, they might note, and he’s a silly manchild living in his parents’ underground basement who can only emotionally engage as an equal with literal children; they might drive the point home that his particular brand of macho hyper-capitalist performative Hard Man edginess is both shallow and ultimately passe. And if you’re engaging in a character-centered examination of his archetype as in The Lego Batman Movie or Morrison’s work with the character, those are fine points. But in terms of whether or not he’s surface-level cool? Pull your head out of your ass, peel open your eyes, and engage with the larger culture for a second: Batman is as close to objectively rad as it is possible for a concept to be.

Batman wears black body armor and drives awesome cars and sounds like Kevin Conroy. Batman lives in a mansion that also has a cave in it, and wears the slickest suits when he’s not being Batman, because Batman can buy anything. Batman is ripped and sexy.* Batman knows every martial art and parkour and can blend into the shadows, and he has a belt of James Bond gadgets. Batman is a genius who’s always ten steps ahead and can escape any trap. Batman has a pitch-black sense of humor. Batman is vicious even as he’s utterly cool in the face of danger. Batman fights horror movie villains of the supernatural, monstrous, fetishistically disturbing, and plain ‘ol slasher varieties, and wins (when he’s not busy dancing across the rooftops in pursuit of a leather-clad Anne Hathaway/Michelle Pfeiffer/Julie Newmar). Batman’s climbed his way back from chemically-induced psychosis, a shattered spine, and the gates of death, all by wit and sheer brutal force of will. Batman has a city that’s New York and Chicago and Vegas and Hell rolled into one, and when he’s needed it literally blasts his logo onto the sky in public acknowledgement of his supreme coolness, but he also travels the world to other cool-looking exotic locales so he can be cool there too. Batman has theme songs by Danny Elfman and Hans Zimmer. And crucially, in spite of all of this, Batman is tormented. You can argue the validity of those conventions on an intellectual level, but what it amounts to is that Batman is a kickass figure of the night who’s the best at everything and has the best of everything, snarling all the while even as he keeps an air of amused detachment about the whole affair, and those are archetypes that humanity’s long since given the thumbs up as constituting capital-c Cool. We like people who can kick ass, the outlaws, the capable and the mysterious, so long as they’re in good stories that let us buy it. And more than anyone in pop culture aside from maybe Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine - and that dude’s done, while the Dark Knight forever remains - he’s That, the superhero.

* Yes, his depiction is more typically centered around a straight dude perspective of male physical perfection than anything actually particularly sensual or alluring, but the intent’s clearly there, and when you’ve been played by Clooney and Affleck I figure you get to claim ‘sexy’ as a fair semi-universal descriptor.

Batman is spooky

Of course, if cool was all there was to Batman’s general persona, he wouldn’t be cool at all, he’d be Poochie in a Dracula cape (which given it will presumably last until the heat death of the universe is a premise The Simpsons will inevitably have to get around to at some point, so remember you saw it here first). But what backs it up and lets people take it seriously is that he’s spooky. Not necessarily frightening - though he can most definitely be that too - but there’s an ethereal, shadowy aspect to his world that goes beyond the fright mask. It can take many forms for many situations and versions of him and his setting: lurking on a gargoyle over an alleyway, waiting for some poor unsuspecting punk to try and stick up an innocent family only to drag him ten stories up and leave him sobbing for his mother; karate-chopping his way through deathtraps and colorful henchmen, which for all its unabashed fun still carries the air of Halloween pageantry and neuroses let loose; haunting the grimiest parts of an urban hellhole, waiting to burst through the window of a roach-infested apartment or a musty disused warehouse to break bones and spill blood; appearing from nowhere, grappling with mind-bending chemical trips and fighting to stay one step ahead of killers in the shadows, dueling mad rich perverted cultists and literal demons of the underworld, overlooking a shadow city forever in flux to reflect the horrors of the moment. Even at his most innocent, there’s something irreducibly seedy and violent and enigmatic about Batman, and that not only provides immediate distinction and character to him and his surroundings - one that distinguishes both from their contemporaries - but legitimizes the entire enterprise as something that can be taken seriously.

Batman is playful

At the same time, Batman’s fun - even at his most serious he uses Batman-shaped boomerangs, and drives a cool car even though gliding and swinging lets him better avoid traffic. He needs to be fun for the kind of ubiquitous pop appeal he has, and it’s built in on every level of the brand no matter how far away you try and veer from it, letting a character rooted in loss and declarations of bloody revenge work just as well for four-year-olds as forty-somethings. The cave, the costumes, the sidekicks and signal and colorful rogues and utility belt and trophies, they give his world a size and dimension that lets him dip his toe in nearly any genre, with his inherent seriousness backing him up to let you buy him in any of those narrative territories. At the end of the day, the people shaping Batman at least subconsciously know it’s all a game, and in letting him have that kind of fun he’s granted versatility and the ability to invigorate as well as stun audiences.

Batman is emotionally, symbolically raw

And sitting at the heart of it all, giving him the gas in the engine that propels all of the above forward, is that he comes from the most viscerally, broadly relatable place of any superhero. The only one who approaches him is Spider-Man, and even there the meaning of his tragedy is somewhat displaced - there’s loss and guilt, yes, but that’s merely the catalyst for a message of responsibility. Here, that Bruce Wayne loses a concept everyone is on some level familiar with, of the happiness and comfort and stability that family is supposed to provide, is itself the point. He grabs the emotional lever right at the animal hindbrain and pulls until it snaps off: everything has gone wrong, and someone must pay for making things this way. Then for good measure he actually does make them pay while adhering to a righteous moral code that defies all he fights against, elevating himself from spooky fun action hero into myth. He’s surrounded by a city where abstract horrors consolidate down into entirely literal figures - for instance, in Gotham the fear that we can be outfoxed, overwhelmed, and systematically taken apart in service of evil stroking its own ego because we just aren’t good enough to survive is a dick in a neon green hat who likes crossword puzzles (as opposed to Superman’s world of much more personal and basic human concerns blown up to cosmic scale) - and he in turn becomes a myth of us persevering through the worst to fight back.

Batman is genuinely a good character

I place this last because this is really the nuts-and-bolts level. It’s essential, none of the above would work for 79 years and counting without it, but it’s not something many but the hardcore (which includes the comic readers by default at this point) consciously think about. But on the ground floor beneath everything else, Batman’s not just an effective piece of branding, atmosphere, and emotional manipulation, but a good character. In his motivations, with the anger that compels him often making many miss that underneath, he far more powerfully wants to ensure that no one else goes through what he did. The childishness of his methods and mindset regarding ‘the mission’ meeting the maturity of his dedication and brilliance, and the humor that can come from that disconnect (especially when his alternating disgust and amusement with his daytime masquerade as a normal person gets involved). The tentative, essential friendships he’s built with the likes of Gordon and Superman. The fatherly connection with Alfred, and the see-saw of the latter’s feelings of guilt, responsibility, and pride in his charge. The spark of his rivalries at their best. The detective work that can be as thrilling as a good punch-out when pulled off right. The forever changing complexity of the Family, a web of Robins and Batgirls and assorted hangers-on with him at the center, their existence and growth a chart of his own emotional progress and regression. His jet-black wit and self-awareness, his ability to empathize with fellow victims, his difficulties in trusting and openly loving those around him when his world is built on the knowledge of how easily those can be stripped away and how badly it hurts. The paranoia, the compassion, the drive and endurance. Beneath all the trappings, Bruce Wayne is just plain and simple a really, really good, interesting, multi-faceted character, fine-tuned under decades of creators and by his existence facilitating the creation and development of countless *other* good characters. And that’s really all it takes underneath it all to prop up a symbol that’s built empires, redefined cultures, and changed lives: the idea of a good man who refused to give up in the face of a cruel world when it forever scarred him, and made himself something greater to fight back and help others not have to go through it alone. That’s why Batman’s great.

#Batman #Analysis #Opinion

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lifejustgotawkward · 7 years

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365 Day Movie Challenge (2017) - #348: Blade Runner 2049 (2017) - dir. Denis Villeneuve

As the end credits rolled on Blade Runner 2049 last Sunday night at the Regal Union Square multiplex, I turned to my friend and asked her my usual question, “So, what did you think?” She groaned out, “that was really boring,” and the wave of relief I felt at her response was the perfect summation of my feelings.

How did Blade Runner 2049 disappoint me? Let me count the ways.

I watched Ridley Scott’s original Blade Runner (1982) back in September. I was impressed, though not bowled over, by the theatrical cut, but I still wanted to give the final cut a chance. When I got around to watching that “definitive” version, I found that I actually missed Harrison Ford’s gruff, noiresque narration from the earlier edit of the film, but overall my appreciation for Blade Runner had grown and the second viewing allowed me to focus less on the plot and to better appreciate both the acting and the technical aspects of the production.

My expectations for Blade Runner 2049 were fairly high. I was eager to see how Denis Villeneuve built on Scott’s (and, of course, writer Philip K. Dick’s) visions of dystopian Los Angeles by pushing the narrative thirty years further into the future from the first Blade Runner’s setting in 2019. Although I missed the chance to see this new installment in IMAX - hey, those tickets are expensive when you don’t have spare cash to throw around! - I knew I still had to take the time to watch the film on the big screen. No TV could possibly do justice to an epic sci-fi tale of the Blade Runner variety, at least not for an introductory experience.

Bear with me, now, when I say that Blade Runner 2049 was a massive letdown. Yes, Roger Deakins’ stunning cinematography is practically guaranteed to earn him an Oscar nomination. And yes, the art direction, production design and set decoration further supports Denis Villeneuve‘s strengths regarding compelling visuals. I would also be totally fine with Renée April getting an Oscar nomination for costume design since the coat that Officer K (Ryan Gosling) wears throughout the film is incredible. Unfortunately, for the third year in a row (after Sicario and Arrival) my hopes for Villeneuve’s work have been dashed. For three years running he has fallen short of his ambitious ideas, whether attempting to concentrate on an idealistic DEA agent (Emily Blunt in Sicario), a linguist simultaneously mourning the death of her daughter and trying to make contact with aliens (Amy Adams in Arrival) or a Replicant Blade Runner (Ryan Gosling in Blade Runner 2049) who unravels a mystery about a female Replicant who was able to bear a child. All of these protagonists should be worthy of my undivided attention. Instead, Gosling - like one of Nexus’s new edition of Replicants - is just another in a continuing line of failed leads.

Part of the issue is Ryan Gosling’s own fault. In interviews I find him absolutely delightful, a funny and self-deprecating guy with a nicely offbeat sense of humor; in movies he is unremittingly bland. Whether we’re talking about The Notebook or Crazy, Stupid, Love or The Big Short, he never seems to have any discernible personality on film. It makes sense, then, that he would be chosen to play an android in Blade Runner 2049. But what does it say that he didn’t even play Officer K well? Replicants can be portrayed with emotion, if you recall Rutger Hauer, Sean Young, Daryl Hannah, Brion James and Joanna Cassidy in the original Blade Runner. Each actor breathed life into their characters in unique styles. So why couldn’t Villeneuve and screenwriters Hampton Fancher and Michael Green find a way to inject some flavor into their film’s characters?

The posters for Blade Runner 2049 imply that Harrison Ford and Jared Leto play important roles in the film, but in actuality, Leto’s “antagonist,” Niander Wallace, barely has any screen time and Ford’s returning antihero, Rick Deckard, doesn’t show up until the last third of the film. I enjoyed every moment he was onscreen, spitting his dialogue out with the same jaded sarcasm he had in the first film, but I wish the character had had more time to develop in the film. Wallace bears an undistinguished aura of evil, but what was supposed to be so special about him? Given the spotlight often put on his sightless eyes during “creepy” closeups, was his blindness really intended to be read as part of what defined him as bad (in which case, uh, what is that saying about disabilities)?

Next we have to take a look at the women of Blade Runner 2049. There are six notable female characters: Joi (Ana de Armas), a hologram who is a product created by Niander Wallace and who functions solely as K’s live-in girlfriend; Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), a Replicant who acts as Niander Wallace’s right-hand woman; Lieutenant Joshi (Robin Wright), K’s supervisor on the police force; Mariette (Mackenzie Davis), a "pleasure model” Replicant; Dr. Ana Stelline (Carla Juri), who works for the Wallace corporation in a capacity that I shouldn’t spoil for those who have not seen the film; and Freysa (Hiam Abbass), who plays a role that I similarly should not divulge. Of these six, Joi and Ana Stelline are the most sympathetic characters, but regardless of how these women’s actions are meant to be interpreted, the designs of these ladies are problematic.

Joi is an immediately likeable character, but since she is a product (and one who does not initially have a corporeal form), she does not have autonomy. With the push of a button, K can turn her off any time he wants, which I’m sure is an option a lot of dudes wish they had available for their girlfriends. Joi exists only to serve K, telling him how wonderful he is when he gets home from a long work day and providing whatever eye candy he desires (she can shapeshift to alter her clothing, hair and makeup). Should I ignore the fact that Joi has zero character development and applaud Blade Runner 2049 anyway for highlighting the ickiness of a future society where Joi-models are prevalent (thus eliminating the need for actual human women)? Maybe, but the film doesn’t bother to make a statement about this element of social interaction, other than the fact that it exists.

K is finally able to experience physical contact with Joi when she “syncs” with Mariette, a prostitute, to combine their bodies for a sexual encounter with K, resulting in my favorite shot in the film: an unsettling image of Joi and Mariette’s four blurry hands wrapping around the back of K’s head and caressing his hair. While this interlude incorporates an interesting degree of romantic intrigue - to what extent do K, Joi and Mariette understand what love is? - there is something a little too weird in the film’s dependence on the Madonna and Whore tropes, suggesting an either/or dichotomy where the only time a woman can possess both attributes is when she finds another person (technically a Replicant) who can temporarily provide the missing skills.

Luv is probably the best-developed female character, although since she is Niander Wallace’s servant, it is impossible to say where her allegiance to him ends and her own taste for violent retribution begins. Luv seems to genuinely savor hurting people, but I suppose that attitude was programmed into her by Wallace, which somewhat minimizes the cool factor in her badass fight scenes. It’s kind of odd, though, that she manages to outshine the film’s other resident tough gal, Lt. Joshi (I didn’t think anyone could outdo Robin Wright in this department, especially after Wonder Woman). Villeneuve and his writers couldn’t settle on how best to represent Joshi, so the character fluctuates between a generically butch stereotype and a leering boss who drinks too much and flirts with K. Again, not that women have to be only one thing, but I like consistency in characters rather than mixed messages. I wonder how much of Blade Runner 2049′s muddled and archaic depictions of women are thanks to Hampton Fancher, who also co-wrote the original Blade Runner’s screenplay, which was full of troublesome approaches to womanhood, sexuality and sexual consent.

In the end, the difference between Blade Runner and Blade Runner 2049 is like the distinction between a human being and a Replicant. 2049 tries to live up to the originality of that which inspired it, but it lacks the soul of its predecessor. It really says something that the most heartfelt moments in Blade Runner 2049 are two references to Ridley Scott’s film: a pivotal scene in Wallace’s lair that conjures up the memory of Rachael (Sean Young) from the film, and a moment in the penultimate scene that reuses a key piece of music from Vangelis’s original Blade Runner score. I recognize that many viewers see Blade Runner 2049 as a masterpiece, and I have tried many times in the past week to understand why, but I’m hard-pressed to comprehend why I should have spent close to three hours sitting through such an unsatisfying project, other than being able to say I bravely weathered this particular storm.

P.S. (because I couldn’t figure out where else to write this): I don’t know how many viewers will know where I’m coming from, but for the cult classic freaks out there, let me propose this theory: Blade Runner 2049 is trying to be like Paul Morrissey’s notoriously wild horror-satire Flesh for Frankenstein (1973). Check it out: a really bizarre and wealthy man (Udo Kier/Jared Leto) and his devoted assistant (Arno Juerging/Sylvia Hoeks) endeavor to construct a set of superhumans (FfF) or humanoid robots (B42049), entities that will give birth to a new generation of superbeings that will take the place of their inferior progenitors and obediently do their master’s (Kier/Leto) bidding. In fact, there are two specific scenes that reminded me of Flesh for Frankenstein while watching Blade Runner 2049: when Niander Wallace kills the naked, infertile Replicant woman (ugh, what a terrible scene), it mirrors a moment in Flesh when Arno Juerging, the loyal assistant, tries to commence sex with Baron Frankenstein’s female zombie-monster by punching her in the stomach and fatally damaging her internal organs, resulting in a grotesque display of violence similar to what we see in Blade Runner 2049.

Secondly, when Luv battles K at the sea wall and she kisses him, she is mimicking an action that Niander Wallace carried out when he killed the Replicant woman; this is also reminiscent of Flesh for Frankenstein since the Arno Juerging character often does horrible, perverse things - like conflating his lust for the female zombie with a disturbingly compulsion for violence - because he is following his master’s patterns. Take all that analysis for what it’s worth, Blade Runner fans!

P.P.S. I am also convinced that Blade Runner 2049′s Las Vegas wasteland scene was either an homage to or a ripoff of Nastassja Kinski’s desert dream sequence from another of 1982′s finest cult offerings, Cat People. Even in the slightly faded YouTube upload of the clip, the orangeness cannot be overlooked.

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joeyvintage · 4 years

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https://www.videoreligion.net/2019/01/violent-shit-2-mother-hold-my-hand-1992.html?m=1

-rev terry

I think if I were a badass, I would need a metal mask or full covering helmet of some kind. Not for the armor aspect, although head protection is always good, I'm just a fan of the look. I would wear one in my daily life now, but they are probably expensive, and people would expect me to do something cool (as I too would expect of a dude with a metal head). All my favorite villains had one in my youth. Both Magneto and Dr. Doom from the comics commanded respect and fucked shit up while wearing some metal on their heads. They were probably my earliest examples, but honestly, that's enough to have secured my love for the style. Their helmets were both semi utilitarian but mostly just looked really awesome with their cape combo. In cartoons, GI Joe took the effects of mirrored sunglasses to the next level with Cobra Commander, as he sometimes just had a smooth piece of chrome covering his face. I can get down with that--the blank and shiny look. It’s stylish features even distracted from his shrill sounding voice. I would probably go with something a little more personalized myself, but would definitely want something metal. It just completes the whole look for me. Something about a good sturdy helmet just fits with murder and mayhem. Karl the Butcher gets it. That's why, when he died, along with his love for over-the-top murder, he passed his fancy medieval headwear down to his son, so he would be properly dressed for his own adventure in Violent Shit II (1992).

Long after the events of the first film, two makeshift drug distributing gangs meet up in an open field to engage in something nefarious with a briefcase. For whatever reason, the deal sours, and the two groups go at eliminating each other in various gusher inducing ways. The battle whittles the congregation of assorted backyard wrestles down to a one on one duel between the leaders who both happen to practice kung fu and enjoy white button-up t-shirts. After some fancy moves, one of them slays the other in combat and begins to leave the scene (sans all his dead homies, I guess) but is stopped in his tracks by the sight of a large masked man yelling at him on the horizon. Turns out Karl Butcher Jr, son of the legendary mass murderer, was out for a stroll, spotted the dealers killing each other, and, not to be left out, had rushed to join. Very quickly, Karl (Andreas Schnaas) is on top of the would-be lone brawl survivor and promptly fucks him up with a machete just before the screen goes black. Following its intro and sparse opening credits, the film takes the form of a true crime documentary in development by reporter Paul Glas. Paul believes a string of recent murders can be linked back to The Butcher massacre from twenty years before (and also, the whole thing has something to do with real-life serial killer Fritz Honka...I think?). After divulging the history of Karl senior for a bit over panning random footage of Germany, the reporter follows a tip leading to an interview with some dude in a bar who confirms his suspicions. The Deepthroat-esque “DR. X” then tells him a few stories about the original culprit’s son who, mad about a face rash or something (honestly between the bad subs and silly plot I'm still dim on some details, but it doesn't really matter), had also already done some minor rampaging of his own in the last few years . Switching formats once again, we catch up with Karl II and his (adoptive?) mother (Anke Prothmann in a lot of make-up). Turns out, Momma Butcher has been priming her young progeny to follow in her late husband's footsteps, and now that he has grown to be the spitting image of his father (complete with the heirloom medieval helmet), he is ready to do some eccentric butchery of his own. In fact, this time will be extra special, because mom is coming along too. As one could probably guess, Karl's old lady has some very peculiar parenting ideas, specifically cannibalism and incest. Also at some point, a naturally occurring body hole gets closed up with a stapler, and I think someone eats poop, so watch out for that.

The title is about as far from the old-fashioned B-movie bait and switch as you can get. Like the first film, Violent Shit is wall to wall grotesque violence, only now (in true sequel fashion), it's been turned up a few ridiculous levels. There is an increased story to it compared to the first film, that is to say, there is more than nothing tieing the insane moments of torture and dismemberment together. For the first few acts, a disjointed, random, and confusing series of events form some semblance of a point, but the film forgets about the majority of this as it moves on into plasma soaked sadism. Mostly, the additional fluff just makes room for things the series was truly missing-- like a training montage, cliche fauxumentary tropes, and Kung Fu. Karl Jr's maternal relationship adds fucked up frosting to an already disturbing cake of sinister shit. The weird sexual thing that's going on there, combined with mom's encouraging cheers, was enough to make me glad the subtitles are wonky and that I don't speak German. At around the same runtime, it might be a little lighter on the fake entrails than the first to make room for the added story, but it wouldn't be considered lacking in most circles. The Butcher-minor is more creative than his father but also seemingly obsessed with genitals (of all genders), which is weird and takes a lot of screen time. There are a few classic machete whacks to the face for some victims. However, as the body count grows, most of the slaughter comes with long, drawn out, silly torture and bloodletting. A bare-bones opposite to the Saw-style mouse trap, instead of providing intricate setups for the deaths, the act of execution itself is long, complicated, and involves several steps. It's all sure to offend anyone who watches but is too extreme to take seriously. Even if you are of the squeamish type, by the fifteenth minute of growling testicle torture and six similar acts, the action loses any real shock and becomes either just gross or hilarious (and gross). It goes for broke, eventually just dissolving into increasing levels of carnage, capturing the essence of a drunken night between friends trying to top each other's morbid imagination. Along with its spastic rampage, the film makes several references to classic American horror films and even borrows a few plot points from the Friday the 13th series unambiguously. To its credit, it's moved forward quite a bit from the first writing-wise, although it’s not like it is casting a bigger net for an audience. It's still just random gore because that's fun sometimes, and hopefully, no one who pops in a film titled Violent Shit 2 will be worried about the level of drama involved.

Shot on tape and seemingly dumping the entirety of its finite resources into gore, Violent Shit 2 is, again, what it says on the tin. The whole thing looks like it was shot in different sections of the same public park, which it refers to as a “forest” at one point. The John Woo tribute, in the beginning, is the film’s most developed moment as far as framing and choreography go, displaying some above average movie brawling for its budget. For the film’s meat and potatoes (Karl the second, killing people), it's a lot more of the same backyard style camera work that kind of hangs around watching the action from any accessible angle. Shots seem almost placed at random, and it jumps between them with meaningless cuts. The film’s biggest draw is an overabundance of practical gore, which comes out as a step above the rest of the film quality- wise. For the lack of resources, the film utilizes some pretty gnarly effects when it comes to flesh mangling, and it doesn't skimp or pull away. I think I counted four different consistencies of blood, and each horrible scenario is trying to top the last. Without spoiling anything, there is a range of squirtastic stabbings and stringy limb removals that, despite their amateur surrounding conditions, would give a lot of larger budget splatter flicks a run for their money. Some of the more ambitious (for lack of a better word) moments spend a little too much time on screen and give themselves away, but all together it should more than slate any grimy blood-seekers thirst or send anyone else running. When it isn't mumbling at random volumes, the dubbing is just screaming, grunting and giggle-worthy squishing sounds with no attachment to what's on screen. Music-wise, the film is laced with an out of place, unbalanced soundtrack that sounds straight out of an RPG fantasy video game. Besides the Dungeons & Dragons mood tunes, it does have a German death metal/butt rock theme song (Violent Shit by Vice Versa) bookending it that captures the spirit nicely and almost feels critically necessary. Stick around afterward for some bonus scenes and marquee of credits that look like they are trying to sell you knock off sunglasses.

German director Andreas Schnaas has made an international name for himself with a torrent of ultra-low budget, ultra-violent gross-out splatter flicks that continues today. In 1989, he and some homies secured a tiny bit of funding to form the company Reel Gore Productions and produce their first full-length picture titled Violent Shit. Filmed over four weekends and with a rented tape recorder, the project amounted to a series of violent acts committed by a large masked man named Karl the Butcher, crafted with homemade practical effects (and little else). By the grace of the trash-gods, it saw a single midnight theater showing but received mostly negative reviews on its initial video release due to its lack of production values. However, with a little help from a to-the-point naming strategy and its unrefined grimy gusto, it found an audience worldwide over the following years in less discerning gore hounds who don't mind the homemade feel (a bunch of fucking weirdos probably). Succeeding their second feature Zombie '90: Extreme Pestilence in 1991, Andreas & Co would return to the world of Violent Shit and brewing cult following. To date, the character Karl the Butcher has appeared in six flicks, that I know of, including a reboot of sorts (Violent Shit: The Movie 2015) by Italian director Luigi Pastore, without Andreas Schnaas involvement. Schnaas himself would play the role in most outings, taking over for Karl Inger (allegedly) after the first film.

Violent Shit II: Mother Hold My Hand (aka Violent Shit 2) is a composition sketchbook of demented cartoon executions forged during an in-school suspension and realized in full-color low fidelity magnetic tape. For the right crowd, it's an awesomely inelegant, generously proportioned helping of sloppy sleaze, possibly best devoured while intoxicated. It advances from the first movie to some degree in almost every way, but it's still one for the same exclusive and fucked-up crowd. If you want tasteless acts of dismemberment, childish boundary-pushing, and obscene special effects, it's got you covered. Those seeking damn near anything outside of that, better look for their kicks elsewhere. In a way, it has the same MO as a Gallagher show, in that there are small bits of gibberish in between gags, but ultimately everyone watching is just waiting for red shit to spray, and a majority of possible viewers are not going to get the joke. I enjoy the fuck out of the unseemly mess, although I don't know what that says about me. I also really dig Karl the Butcher’s fashion sense. If only I too had been lucky enough to have inherited some cool metal headgear along with the destructive predispositions.

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adambstingus · 6 years

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5 Directors That Should’ve Stopped After One Movie

Some filmmakers are like marathon winners; they stay consistently strong and fast for an inconceivable amount of time, and when they finish, you are left inspired by their existence. And some directors have careers like my performance in my second grade’s three-legged race. I fell at the start, busted my nose open, and writhed on the ground for a while as my partner walked away from me. The following five directors did similar things in their own metaphorical three-legged races. What began as a burst of glorious potential devolved into something hideous and often embarrassing.

Zack Snyder With Dawn Of The Dead

Zack Snyder has always been the Mountain Dew Code Red to Christopher Nolan’s iced coffee. They both direct grand adventure movies, but while Nolan’s philosophy is that of the kid in the back of the freshman year writing class with the scarf, Snyder’s is frat bro existentialism. Snyder is pretty great at examining the darkness that lurks in the hearts of men, but only when those men are grunting at each other, “HOLD ME BACK BEFORE I LAY THIS MOTHERFUCKER OUT, DUDE”-style. In any other case, it’s a toss-up. For example, in Watchmen, he totally got the plight of radioactive superman Dr. Manhattan. But the only female on the team, Silk Spectre, was shot like she was in an impromptu Axe Body Spray commercial.