#like i watched these videos and they were either so simplistic or various levels of misleading

[vohtaro]

.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Edward Schlosser

Published: Jun 3, 2015

I’m a professor at a midsize state school. I have been teaching college classes for nine years now. I have won (minor) teaching awards, studied pedagogy extensively, and almost always score highly on my student evaluations. I am not a world-class teacher by any means, but I am conscientious; I attempt to put teaching ahead of research, and I take a healthy emotional stake in the well-being and growth of my students.

Things have changed since I started teaching. The vibe is different. I wish there were a less blunt way to put this, but my students sometimes scare me — particularly the liberal ones.

Not, like, in a person-by-person sense, but students in general. The student-teacher dynamic has been reenvisioned along a line that’s simultaneously consumerist and hyper-protective, giving each and every student the ability to claim Grievous Harm in nearly any circumstance, after any affront, and a teacher’s formal ability to respond to these claims is limited at best.

What it was like before

In early 2009, I was an adjunct, teaching a freshman-level writing course at a community college. Discussing infographics and data visualization, we watched a flash animation describing how Wall Street’s recklessness had destroyed the economy.

The video stopped, and I asked whether the students thought it was effective. An older student raised his hand.

”What about Fannie and Freddie?” he asked. “Government kept giving homes to black people, to help out black people, white people didn’t get anything, and then they couldn’t pay for them. What about that?”

I gave a quick response about how most experts would disagree with that assumption, that it was actually an oversimplification, and pretty dishonest, and isn’t it good that someone made the video we just watched to try to clear things up? And, hey, let’s talk about whether that was effective, okay? If you don’t think it was, how could it have been?

The rest of the discussion went on as usual.

The next week, I got called into my director’s office. I was shown an email, sender name redacted, alleging that I “possessed communistical [sic] sympathies and refused to tell more than one side of the story.” The story in question wasn’t described, but I suspect it had do to with whether or not the economic collapse was caused by poor black people.

My director rolled her eyes. She knew the complaint was silly bullshit. I wrote up a short description of the past week’s class work, noting that we had looked at several examples of effective writing in various media and that I always made a good faith effort to include conservative narratives along with the liberal ones.

Along with a carbon-copy form, my description was placed into a file that may or may not have existed. Then ... nothing. It disappeared forever; no one cared about it beyond their contractual duties to document student concerns. I never heard another word of it again.

That was the first, and so far only, formal complaint a student has ever filed against me.

Now boat-rocking isn’t just dangerous — it’s suicidal

This isn’t an accident: I have intentionally adjusted my teaching materials as the political winds have shifted. (I also make sure all my remotely offensive or challenging opinions, such as this article, are expressed either anonymously or pseudonymously). Most of my colleagues who still have jobs have done the same. We’ve seen bad things happen to too many good teachers — adjuncts getting axed because their evaluations dipped below a 3.0, grad students being removed from classes after a single student complaint, and so on.

I once saw an adjunct not get his contract renewed after students complained that he exposed them to “offensive” texts written by Edward Said and Mark Twain. His response, that the texts were meant to be a little upsetting, only fueled the students’ ire and sealed his fate. That was enough to get me to comb through my syllabi and cut out anything I could see upsetting a coddled undergrad, texts ranging from Upton Sinclair to Maureen Tkacik — and I wasn’t the only one who made adjustments, either.

I am frightened sometimes by the thought that a student would complain again like he did in 2009. Only this time it would be a student accusing me not of saying something too ideologically extreme — be it communism or racism or whatever — but of not being sensitive enough toward his feelings, of some simple act of indelicacy that’s considered tantamount to physical assault. As Northwestern University professor Laura Kipnis writes, “Emotional discomfort is [now] regarded as equivalent to material injury, and all injuries have to be remediated.” Hurting a student’s feelings, even in the course of instruction that is absolutely appropriate and respectful, can now get a teacher into serious trouble.

In 2009, the subject of my student’s complaint was my supposed ideology. I was communistical, the student felt, and everyone knows that communisticism is wrong. That was, at best, a debatable assertion. And as I was allowed to rebut it, the complaint was dismissed with prejudice. I didn’t hesitate to reuse that same video in later semesters, and the student’s complaint had no impact on my performance evaluations.

In 2015, such a complaint would not be delivered in such a fashion. Instead of focusing on the rightness or wrongness (or even acceptability) of the materials we reviewed in class, the complaint would center solely on how my teaching affected the student’s emotional state. As I cannot speak to the emotions of my students, I could not mount a defense about the acceptability of my instruction. And if I responded in any way other than apologizing and changing the materials we reviewed in class, professional consequences would likely follow.

I wrote about this fear on my blog, and while the response was mostly positive, some liberals called me paranoid, or expressed doubt about why any teacher would nix the particular texts I listed. I guarantee you that these people do not work in higher education, or if they do they are at least two decades removed from the job search. The academic job market is brutal. Teachers who are not tenured or tenure-track faculty members have no right to due process before being dismissed, and there’s a mile-long line of applicants eager to take their place. And as writer and academic Freddie DeBoer writes, they don’t even have to be formally fired — they can just not get rehired. In this type of environment, boat-rocking isn’t just dangerous, it’s suicidal, and so teachers limit their lessons to things they know won’t upset anybody.

The real problem: a simplistic, unworkable, and ultimately stifling conception of social justice

This shift in student-teacher dynamic placed many of the traditional goals of higher education — such as having students challenge their beliefs — off limits. While I used to pride myself on getting students to question themselves and engage with difficult concepts and texts, I now hesitate. What if this hurts my evaluations and I don’t get tenure? How many complaints will it take before chairs and administrators begin to worry that I’m not giving our customers — er, students, pardon me — the positive experience they’re paying for? Ten? Half a dozen? Two or three?

This phenomenon has been widely discussed as of late, mostly as a means of deriding political, economic, or cultural forces writers don’t much care for. Commentators on the left and right have recently criticized the sensitivity and paranoia of today’s college students. They worry about the stifling of free speech, the implementation of unenforceable conduct codes, and a general hostility against opinions and viewpoints that could cause students so much as a hint of discomfort.

I agree with some of these analyses more than others, but they all tend to be too simplistic. The current student-teacher dynamic has been shaped by a large confluence of factors, and perhaps the most important of these is the manner in which cultural studies and social justice writers have comported themselves in popular media. I have a great deal of respect for both of these fields, but their manifestations online, their desire to democratize complex fields of study by making them as digestible as a TGIF sitcom, has led to adoption of a totalizing, simplistic, unworkable, and ultimately stifling conception of social justice. The simplicity and absolutism of this conception has combined with the precarity of academic jobs to create higher ed’s current climate of fear, a heavily policed discourse of semantic sensitivity in which safety and comfort have become the ends and the means of the college experience.

This new understanding of social justice politics resembles what University of Pennsylvania political science professor Adolph Reed Jr. calls a politics of personal testimony, in which the feelings of individuals are the primary or even exclusive means through which social issues are understood and discussed. Reed derides this sort of political approach as essentially being a non-politics, a discourse that “is focused much more on taxonomy than politics [which] emphasizes the names by which we should call some strains of inequality [ ... ] over specifying the mechanisms that produce them or even the steps that can be taken to combat them.” Under such a conception, people become more concerned with signaling goodness, usually through semantics and empty gestures, than with actually working to effect change.

Herein lies the folly of oversimplified identity politics: while identity concerns obviously warrant analysis, focusing on them too exclusively draws our attention so far inward that none of our analyses can lead to action. Rebecca Reilly Cooper, a political philosopher at the University of Warwick, worries about the effectiveness of a politics in which “particular experiences can never legitimately speak for any one other than ourselves, and personal narrative and testimony are elevated to such a degree that there can be no objective standpoint from which to examine their veracity.” Personal experience and feelings aren’t just a salient touchstone of contemporary identity politics; they are the entirety of these politics. In such an environment, it’s no wonder that students are so prone to elevate minor slights to protestable offenses.

(It’s also why seemingly piddling matters of cultural consumption warrant much more emotional outrage than concerns with larger material implications. Compare the number of web articles surrounding the supposed problematic aspects of the newest Avengers movie with those complaining about, say, the piecemeal dismantling of abortion rights. The former outnumber the latter considerably, and their rhetoric is typically much more impassioned and inflated. I’d discuss this in my classes — if I weren’t too scared to talk about abortion.)

The press for actionability, or even for comprehensive analyses that go beyond personal testimony, is hereby considered redundant, since all we need to do to fix the world’s problems is adjust the feelings attached to them and open up the floor for various identity groups to have their say. All the old, enlightened means of discussion and analysis —from due process to scientific method — are dismissed as being blind to emotional concerns and therefore unfairly skewed toward the interest of straight white males. All that matters is that people are allowed to speak, that their narratives are accepted without question, and that the bad feelings go away.

So it’s not just that students refuse to countenance uncomfortable ideas — they refuse to engage them, period. Engagement is considered unnecessary, as the immediate, emotional reactions of students contain all the analysis and judgment that sensitive issues demand. As Judith Shulevitz wrote in the New York Times, these refusals can shut down discussion in genuinely contentious areas, such as when Oxford canceled an abortion debate. More often, they affect surprisingly minor matters, as when Hampshire College disinvited an Afrobeat band because their lineup had too many white people in it.

When feelings become more important than issues

At the very least, there’s debate to be had in these areas. Ideally, pro-choice students would be comfortable enough in the strength of their arguments to subject them to discussion, and a conversation about a band’s supposed cultural appropriation could take place alongside a performance. But these cancellations and disinvitations are framed in terms of feelings, not issues. The abortion debate was canceled because it would have imperiled the “welfare and safety of our students.” The Afrofunk band’s presence would not have been “safe and healthy.” No one can rebut feelings, and so the only thing left to do is shut down the things that cause distress — no argument, no discussion, just hit the mute button and pretend eliminating discomfort is the same as effecting actual change.

In a New York Magazine piece, Jonathan Chait described the chilling effect this type of discourse has upon classrooms. Chait’s piece generated seismic backlash, and while I disagree with much of his diagnosis, I have to admit he does a decent job of describing the symptoms. He cites an anonymous professor who says that “she and her fellow faculty members are terrified of facing accusations of triggering trauma.” Internet liberals pooh-poohed this comment, likening the professor to one of Tom Friedman’s imaginary cab drivers. But I’ve seen what’s being described here. I’ve lived it. It’s real, and it affects liberal, socially conscious teachers much more than conservative ones.

If we wish to remove this fear, and to adopt a politics that can lead to more substantial change, we need to adjust our discourse. Ideally, we can have a conversation that is conscious of the role of identity issues and confident of the ideas that emanate from the people who embody those identities. It would call out and criticize unfair, arbitrary, or otherwise stifling discursive boundaries, but avoid falling into pettiness or nihilism. It wouldn’t be moderate, necessarily, but it would be deliberate. It would require effort.

In the start of his piece, Chait hypothetically asks if “the offensiveness of an idea [can] be determined objectively, or only by recourse to the identity of the person taking offense.” Here, he’s getting at the concerns addressed by Reed and Reilly-Cooper, the worry that we’ve turned our analysis so completely inward that our judgment of a person’s speech hinges more upon their identity signifiers than on their ideas.

A sensible response to Chait’s question would be that this is a false binary, and that ideas can and should be judged both by the strength of their logic and by the cultural weight afforded to their speaker’s identity. Chait appears to believe only the former, and that’s kind of ridiculous. Of course someone’s social standing affects whether their ideas are considered offensive, or righteous, or even worth listening to. How can you think otherwise?

We destroy ourselves when identity becomes our sole focus

Feminists and anti-racists recognize that identity does matter. This is indisputable. If we subscribe to the belief that ideas can be judged within a vacuum, uninfluenced by the social weight of their proponents, we perpetuate a system in which arbitrary markers like race and gender influence the perceived correctness of ideas. We can’t overcome prejudice by pretending it doesn’t exist. Focusing on identity allows us to interrogate the process through which white males have their opinions taken at face value, while women, people of color, and non-normatively gendered people struggle to have their voices heard.

But we also destroy ourselves when identity becomes our sole focus. Consider a tweet I linked to (which has since been removed. See editor’s note below.), from a critic and artist, in which she writes: “When ppl go off on evo psych, its always some shady colonizer white man theory that ignores nonwhite human history. but ‘science’. Ok ... Most ‘scientific thought’ as u know it isnt that scientific but shaped by white patriarchal bias of ppl who claimed authority on it.”

This critic is intelligent. Her voice is important. She realizes, correctly, that evolutionary psychology is flawed, and that science has often been misused to legitimize racist and sexist beliefs. But why draw that out to questioning most “scientific thought”? Can’t we see how distancing that is to people who don’t already agree with us? And tactically, can’t we see how shortsighted it is to be skeptical of a respected manner of inquiry just because it’s associated with white males?

This sort of perspective is not confined to Twitter and the comments sections of liberal blogs. It was born in the more nihilistic corners of academic theory, and its manifestations on social media have severe real-world implications. In another instance, two female professors of library science publicly outed and shamed a male colleague they accused of being creepy at conferences, going so far as to openly celebrate the prospect of ruining his career. I don’t doubt that some men are creepy at conferences — they are. And for all I know, this guy might be an A-level creep. But part of the female professors’ shtick was the strong insistence that harassment victims should never be asked for proof, that an enunciation of an accusation is all it should ever take to secure a guilty verdict. The identity of the victims overrides the identity of the harasser, and that’s all the proof they need.

This is terrifying. No one will ever accept that. And if that becomes a salient part of liberal politics, liberals are going to suffer tremendous electoral defeat.

Debate and discussion would ideally temper this identity-based discourse, make it more usable and less scary to outsiders. Teachers and academics are the best candidates to foster this discussion, but most of us are too scared and economically disempowered to say anything. Right now, there’s nothing much to do other than sit on our hands and wait for the ascension of conservative political backlash — hop into the echo chamber, pile invective upon the next person or company who says something vaguely insensitive, insulate ourselves further and further from any concerns that might resonate outside of our own little corner of Twitter.

--

==

This has been going on for over a decade. The correct response is to mock and laugh at the people complaining, and point out that they're not ready for the big wide world outside their kindergarten mindset, so they'd be better off going back home to mommy and daddy. Not validate and endorse their feelings. We need to get back to that.

[zachsreaderinserts]

Taking a Stand

ship: platonic!bbs x male!reader

dialogue prompt: "No! I'm tired of doing what you tell me!"

warnings: abusive relationship, high school au, i poured my heart and soul into this, it felt really nice to write something like this

"Good morning, gamers," I mumbled, walking to our table in the cafeteria. My friends simply said their greetings back or just nodded at me, looking just as tired as I was.

Mondays were always hard on us, especially since we all were trying to keep up with our channels on the weekends. We all probably had a few hours of decent rest.

"Is everyone gonna be ready to upload our Prop Hunt video tonight?" Craig asked, pulling out the Uno cards. It was a tradition for us to play before school started.

"Yeah," Tyler muttered.

"Yup," Evan replied.

"I think so. I haven't had the chance to edit it yet." Brock gave me a look, that was between concerned and confused.

"You're usually the first one to finish editing out of all of us." I yawned, tears pricking my eyes.

"Angel called me last night. She was ranting and told me not to hang up, so I couldn't get to it." I missed the eye rolls and the silent scoffs that were passed around the group.

"You could've told her you had something to do." Marcel pointed out as the game had begun.

"She wouldn't be happy about it. I don't like upsetting her." I placed down the first card, nudging Brian to place his next. "I'll try to get it done before dinner."

"There's no pressure, L/n. Take your time." Jonathan reassured me, giving me a soft smile. His smile quickly melted away and before I could ask why tan arms wrapped around my shoulders.

"Y/n!" Angel, my girlfriend of one month, exclaimed. She pecked my lips, smiling happily. "Good morning, baby."

"Mornin', Ang." Looking back down at the table, I noticed it was my turn again and a plus two was laid before me. "Oh, you motherfuckers!" Everyone laughed as I pulled two cards from the deck.

"Don't curse, Y/n." Angel lightly patted my shoulder, giving me an admonishing frown. "It's just a game."

"Sorry, babe. It's just that my friends," I threw out a mock glare, "are little shits."

"I was wondering if you could walk me to my locker." I glanced over at my friends before looking at her. "Please, Y/n!"

"I really want to finish this game." I tried to reason, looking in the green eyes of my lover. "Can you wait until the second bell?"

"Y/n, I want to get there before Samantha and April do so we can catch up on some stuff." Seeing that I was still hesitating, she frowned again. "I bet Raymond would walk me to my locker." I turned back around, trying to hide my hurt expression.

"Yeah, I'll walk you." She clapped in excitement as I set my cards down. "See y'all at lunch." I tried to put on a smile, but it felt forced more than anything. Angel wrapped her hand around mine, leading me away from my friends.

Lately, I've been becoming less happy with Angel. She would give me little bits of an insult, leaving me to wonder if she meant it or not. And whenever I wouldn't let her have her way, she would just grow cold and serious.

But, I still liked her. She meant a lot to me. So, I took everything with stride.

My friends, on the other hand, didn't. Back at the table, all of them grew frustrated and angry with our relationship.

"I fucking hate her," Tyler growled, slamming down a blue card onto the deck.

"Join the club." Marcel sneered, glaring as Angel and I disappeared around the corner. "What does he see in her?"

"Maybe he's just staying for the sex." David pointed out, cursing quietly as a plus four was placed down.

"Y/n's too insecure for sex." Brian countered, crossing his arms. "Remember what happened when he had his fall out with Kyle? The whole reason it started was because Y/n refused to fuck him."

"Whatever it is, I hope it's good enough to justify her shitty behavior." Lui cut in, leaning against Evan. "Though, I doubt there's anything that really can justify it."

"We just gotta trust Y/n for now, guys." Brock sent everyone a reassuring glance. "I'm sure he knows what's best for him."

---

"Happy Valentine's Day!" I cheered, carrying an assortment of flowers and chocolates to my friends.

"Whoa!"

"Chocolate!"

"Holy shit!"

"Oh my God!" Various noises of surprise came from them as I placed the stash on the table, grinning proudly.

"Let me hand them out first, children." They went quiet as I started passing around gift cards with a gift attached.

For Evan, I stayed true to his simplistic nature and got him a bouquet of various red flowers. Jonathan received a chocolate box full of bear shaped candies. I got Lui and Brock assorted flowers, which were in almost every shade of the rainbow. Brian and Craig got Starbucks gift cards while I got David and Marcel Visa gift cards.

The last gift was for Tyler, but it was hidden in a plain, black box.

"Okay, open that one under the table." He did as I said and once he opened it, he started laughing loudly. I started laughing at his reaction, slapping the table.

"Y/n, you didn't!" He pulled out a blue dildo, about the size of his forearm. Brock quickly rushed to hide it, laughing along with the rest of us.

After the short laughing fit, they began to read the cards I gave them, either tearing up or smiling at my genuine messages.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Y/n!" Angel gave me a kiss on the mouth, which made me flustered.

"Ah, Angel! Not in front of the guys!" She pulled back, looking dejected. "Sorry, but you know I don't like kissing in front of other people."

"But it's Valentine's Day!" She pressed, slowly getting visibly angry with me. "Shouldn't we be making out all day?"

"I'm just not comfortable with it." She gave me a glare and I sighed, getting sad. "Sorry, Angel."

"No... Don't be. Just-- Did you get me anything?" I lit up, seeing the opportunity to cheer her up.

"Actually, yeah! It's at my house right now, so if you wanna come over later--"

"You mean to tell me that you don't have a gift to give me during the school day?" I shut my mouth, looking at her in confusion. The table around us went silent.

"Is that 'boyfriend protocol' or something?" She huffed frustratedly, taking a step back and crossing her arms.

"Uh, yes! How am I gonna show everyone how good of a boyfriend you are if you don't have a gift during school hours?"

"I don't think you'd need to flaunt around how good of a boyfriend I am if you already know it." I shrugged, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I'm no genius or anything, but I think I'm a very good boyfriend."

"Nevermind, Y/n. I'm going to class." She hissed, storming off. I clenched my fists, trying not to cry in front of my friends.

"Don't listen to her, Y/n." Lui comforted, leading me back to the table. "She's probably on her period or something."

"I made her a painting of us. I worked hard on it and everything." My voice cracked as I folded my arms and laid my head down on them. "I thought she would appreciate it."

"I don't think you guys should keep dating." Evan rubbed my back while talking to me. "You both clearly aren't happy in this situation."

"No, no. I'll figure it out. I really want to keep dating her." I looked at him with a teary face. "I'm sorry for crying."

"Hey, don't be." David came over, sitting next to me. "Why are you saying sorry?"

"Are you fucking crying right now? That's for babies, Y/n! I'm not gonna date a man who cries like a damn baby after an argument." Angel ranted, pointing at my face.

"I have no clue." I lied, rubbing my eyes harshly.

---

y/ntheactualgod has logged onto: what's jon's sexuality??

y/ntheactualgod: DHSJSK WHO CHANGED THE GROUPCHAT NAME

miniladd: IT WAS ME

h20delirious:

FUCK ALL OF YOU

h20delirious changed the chat name to: craig has a micropenis

y/ntheactualgod: and i oop

iamwildcat: y/n if you say "and i oop" one more time i'm going to freak the fuck out

y/ntheactualgod: A N D I OOP

moosnuckel: now you gotta beat them up tyler you said it yourself

iamwildcat: i'm gonna kick your ass as soon as we get to school tomorrow

y/ntheactualgod: do it pussy

vanossgaming: can i record it for my channel?

basicallyidowrk: they're gonna be the next logan paul and ksi

thegamingterroriser: but who's who?

y/ntheactualgod: call dibs on being ksi

iamwildcat: call dibs on being ksi F U CK I DON'T WANNA BE LOGAN PAUL

daithidenogla: sucks to suck

y/ntheactualgod: hold on, angel's messaging me

---

angelbabycakes: Y/N Y/N Y/N

y/ntheactualgod: what's up sugar

angelbabycakes: can i come over?

y/ntheactualgod: to hang out at like 2 AM?

angelbabycakes: not to hang out silly i wanna take our relationship to the next level

---

I felt my heart stop in my chest as I read over what she sent me.

---

y/ntheactualgod: oh. um, hold on

---

y/ntheactualgod: ANGEL WANTS TO HAVE SEX WITH ME WHAT DO I DO?????

basicallyidowrk: SEND US A SCREENSHOT

y/ntheactualgod: unknown.png

h20delirious: oh my god

luicalibre: do u wanna have sex with her?

y/ntheactualgod: uhhhhh not really if i'm being honest ITS NOT THAT I DONT LIKE HER I LOVE ANGEL BUT IM NOT READY FOR SEX

miniladd: that's fine y/n! nothing to be worried about. just tell her how you feel

---

y/ntheactualgod: im sorry angel, but im not ready for that yet

angelbabycakes: look out ur window :)

---

"She didn't," I whispered in horror, rushing to go peek out the window. In my backyard stood my girlfriend of three months, who smiled up at me. I saw her put her phone to her ear and my phone lit up with a call from her. Answering it with shaky hands, I looked down at her through the window.

"Hey, baby! Can you let me in?"

"Angel, I love you a lot, but I can't do this." My voice trembled with anxiety as I saw her face be pulled into a frown. "I'm so sorry, honey, but I just can't have sex with anyone right now."

"Why not! I've been dating your sorry ass for three months! The least you could do is make it worth my while!"

"Angel, I--" She let out an enraged yell, picking up one of my lawn chairs and throwing it across my backyard. I watched in horror as she practically messed up my backyard. "Angel, please stop!"

"I'm tired of dating your wimpy ass! I don't deserve to be with such an ungrateful boyfriend." And she hung up on me, storming out of my yard. My hands were shaking so hard, I dropped my phone. Sinking to the floor, I stuck my head into my knees and started sobbing.

Was I crying of fear or heartbreak? I couldn't even tell.

---

"Good morning, Y/n!" I yelped loudly as David clapped his hand on my shoulder. He pulled his hand away, looking at me concerned.

"Oh, hey David." My voice was scratchy from a lack of sleep, but I didn't let it stop me from talking. "Sorry, you just scared me."

"I'm sorry. You look like you just saw a ghost." As we walked over to the lunch table, I kept my eyes open for Angel, becoming more paranoid the further in we walked. "Where were you this morning?"

This morning was really rough for me. I decided to skip out on sitting with my friends to hide in the bathroom, out of fear that Angel would confront me about last night.

"I had a long night. Woke up late." I lied, weakly smiling up at my friend. "Hope you guys were worried about me."

"We kinda were. Especially after what happened earlier this morning." I looked away from David, seeing that we were nearing the lunch table.

"I'm fine," I reassured to him, rushing to go sit down. I missed the unconvinced look on his face as he walked after me. "Hey, guys."

"Y/n! Where've you been?" Evan called out, grinning as I sat between him and Craig.

"Late morning," I responded, pulling out a cup of jello from my lunchbox. "Who won Uno today?"

"Lui did. He was totally cheating, though." Tyler complained, making me smile genuinely. I felt myself relax a little around them as I opened up the cup.

"You're a winner in my heart, Ty--"

"Y/n!" I couldn't help but jump harshly as Angel called out my name. I managed to squeeze all the jello out of the cup and all over my hand. Angel's tan arms wrapped around my shoulders and she moved to peck my cheek. "I didn't see you this morning."

Was she choosing to forget about what had happened?

"Uh... I woke up late." I stuttered, looking at my now ruined jello. "Sorry."

"You should really be more responsible, Y/n." As she picked her hand up to move a piece of my hair, I couldn't help the tiny flinch. Luckily she didn't notice. "You wanna come over later to watch some Netflix?" She gave me a look similar to the one she wore last night when she first stood in my backyard, letting me know what she was implying.

"I'm sorry, Angel, but I got--"

"Let me guess. Homework? A recording session? Friends coming over?" She took her arms away from my shoulders, giving me a harsh glare. "You never have time for me."

"Angel, not here," I whispered, looking at the eyes of my friends watching us talk.

"Don't give me that BS, L/n! You don't care about me anymore!" She stood up to her full height, putting her hands on her hips. "Don't talk to me unless you wanna apologize." And she stomped away again, leaving me behind with an empty cup of jello and a hand covered in it.

"I'll be right back," I muttered, scared that I was going to start crying in front of the whole cafeteria. I speed-walked to the nearest bathroom and locked myself in a stall. I let the tears slip down my cheeks and silently cried my heart out. My jello covered hand stained my shirt, but at the time, I didn't really care.

"Y/n? Are you in here?" I went silent, hoping that Brock would go away. "Y/n, I can see you sitting in there."

"Go away." My voice broke midsentence as Brock's footsteps came closer to my stall.

"Y/n, we just wanna help you." Jonathan came over as well. "Please come out."

"I-- I can't!" I yelled, feeling broken. "I'm trying so hard to make her happy and she just can't accept it! I've been letting her do as she pleases and it feels like she doesn't even listen to me. I don't want to cuddle with her and then she stops talking to me! I don't give her a gift during Valentine's Day at school and she yells at me! I say I don't want to have sex with her and she proceeds to trash my backyard! I'm so tired of not being enough!" I was gasping for air near the end, recognizing that I was starting to have another anxiety attack. I quickly unlocked the door and smashed into the nearest person's chest, sobbing heavily. They wrapped their arms around me, swaying back and forth as I let out month's worth of tears.

"We're here, Y/n. We've got you." Brian whispered. I felt another pair of arms wrap around us and soon, everyone joined in on the hug.

And for the first time in months, I felt safe and secure.

Once my crying had dialed down, we all separated. I wiped my face with my sleeve, trying to remove any remnants of tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry for crying. There's no reason for you to say sorry when you're this mentally torn about something." Craig gave me a stern glare, holding me by the shoulders. "Why do you say sorry every time you cry?"

"I... I've been told that crying is considered being babyish." Evan huffed, rolling his eyes at me.

"So what? Showing emotions isn't being a baby. It's being genuine. If you hide your emotions, then you're just equivalent to a robot. You should be happy that you can express yourself so well. As cool as it would be to be a robot, I think it would get pretty boring." I smiled a little, sniffing.

"You think?"

"He's right, Y/n. Craig's expressive, but he lifts like a damn champion. And Tyler screams like a preteen, but he's just as strong as anyone else."

"Hey!" We all laughed at that.

"The point is is that you shouldn't feel bad for being emotional. It's a part of who you are." I nodded, feeling confident in myself. "Now, if I were to guess correctly, I'm assuming Angel told you that." My smile quickly changed to a frown.

"How'd you know?" I asked Marcel, to which Jonathan snorted at me.

"Your girlfriend's a douchebag, Y/n. I'm sorry, but it's the Gospel Truth." I just sighed, leaning against the wall.

"I know. But I love her." Brock grabbed my face gently, making me look in his eyes.

"Think of every moment you had with her that was happy." I looked up, trying to recall every moment.

When I asked her out. Our first date. The day we went on a road trip. Her aunt's wedding. My birthday.

"Now think of every moment that you weren't happy with her."

Our first fight. Meeting my parents. Valentine's Day. LAST NIGHT. NOT EVEN TWO MINUTES AGO--

"I have to go," I muttered, a sense of urgency and determination running through me. I slinked past everyone, rushing out of the bathroom and to the lunch room. They all followed me as I walked over to Angel's lunch table, where she turned to face me.

"Are you here to apologize?" I didn't even get to open my mouth when she spoke. "Well, too bad. I'm still angry--"

"No! I'm tired of doing what you tell me!" I cut her off, balling up my fists. "Last night, you trashed my backyard because I wouldn't fuck you! And you just yelled at me for saying no to hanging out after school. I've been doing everything for you when you wouldn't even do half of it for me!" The cafeteria went silent as I was speaking, watching us argue. And for once, I didn't care who saw me.

"How dare you, Y/n! I fucking love you!" She started tearing up, fake tears to get sympathy from me. "You're going to break up with me?!"

"Uh, yeah? Was that not clear?!" She closed her mouth, shocked by my rage. "If you fucking loved me then you would've respected the fact that I didn't want sex! You would've accepted my gift during Valentine's Day and you would've respected my wishes throughout the year of me saying no! But you didn't. Instead, you manipulated me continuously with no hesitation and it's because you can't seem to get in your tiny brain that not everyone owes you anything!" Tears leaked from my eyes, but this time, I didn't care who saw. "I'm done, Angel. I want everything I ever gave you back."

"You can't do that!" She grabbed my wrist, looking into my eyes. "Y/n, I love you!"

I looked down at my now ex-girlfriend, ripping my hand away from her.

"No, you don't." And with that, I left her behind, once and for all.

As I exited the cafeteria, I watched Lui come up and clap me on the shoulder, smiling at me.

"You did good, Y/n." I smiled. And it felt really great as a whole new feeling blossomed in my chest.

"Yeah. I did, huh?" Freedom. That's what this was. Freedom from months of torture. I wiped away tears, not feeling ashamed for shedding them. "You guys wanna go ditch for some Hardee's?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Alright!"

"Yes!"

"Sure."

"Cool!"

"I'm down."

"I call shotgun!"

"I'm taking my car!" As the others rushed out, Craig stayed behind, turning to look at me.

"Are you okay?" Linking our arms together, I sighed happily.

"I'm feeling great."

[bunchamunchafaunus]

The Qilin’s Trial

A clearing, amid the Emerald Forest, wide and void of trees, though with a thin stream of water cutting through it’s center with gentle curves. Though some foreign contents were settled in it’s southern end. A shuttle, old in design, though well maintained, and with a gentle hum emitting constantly as it’s engines ran, idle in wait. Standing beside, leaning against it, a tall armored man, accompanied by another in lighter, leather-like armor, a thick collar of white ‘round his neck. Both with weaponry on their person. 

Just a few feet away, though in the air, a woman seated atop a great-shield with a gentle purple glow emitting from beneath it. Long, thick reptilian tail of dark scales draped over the wider back of the hovering object with it’s end swaying slightly. A hand raised in front of their face, just above their eyes to shield them from the sun above. Her other holding tight to a double-barrel shotgun readied yet relaxed across  the surface in front of her. “You sure about this, Emma? It’s been a while since you’ve properly used any of your weapons.” She calls out to the other set in her sight.

Emma, in some light plating over rather simplistic hide armor atop light underclothes, stood closer to the stream. Head turning just slightly at the sound of her teammate’s voice over the gentle water flow. The call making her all the more aware of the three pairs of watchful eyes. Such awareness causing her to gently and subtly twist her scythe within her hand off to her right back and forth with some light nervousness arising. Even with the weight of it in her hold and a sheathed short sword at her left hip were both comforting in this moment knowing her reason for being here.

“I have to do this, Peri, for myself if no-one else. As crazy as it may seem, I just...” She sighed, her tail lowering to curl a little lazily around her right leg. “I feel like I need to do this, like I won’t ever improve if I don’t, like can’t become a Huntress proper, much less a ruler. I can’t keep relying on others to tell me where I’m about to be attacked from like what we’ve been doing. It’s well and good for teamwork, but with how things have been and how they seem like they will be in the future? Teamwork isn’t always going to be possible, and in those situations I’m not as capable a fighter.”

“I’ll be back with Umbir and Maho then, but we’ll be ready to jump in at any point you need.” Adjusting her weight a little atop Aegis, the Komodo began drifting backward, away from her teammate who nodded her appreciation. Turning her head to look back to the shuttle and the other two people standing watch as she approached them. Nodding her own head to them as she began shifting again to come to a stop about two feet to the side of the white-collared Faunus. “Your copies ready?”

The man simply just hums his confirmation at the hovering woman’s question. Breathing in, and following it with a slight sigh. “I’ll be able to guide about a dozen, give or take a handful more, to her before I need to stop if I’m going to be able to help if something goes wrong.” Briefly pausing, the man lifts a hand with a snap before pointing the same hand’s index finger to the younger Faunus. “Also, your brother wanted me to say ‘Hi’ for him and to let you know that he’s sorry he couldn’t be here. Roy had to use his dust a few days ago, a lot of it, and now he’s resting in bed. Cani’s taking good care of him.”

“Thank you...” Peri responded simply, letting silence hang after for a short moment. “Punch him in the shoulder for me when you get back, will you? Let him know it’s for worrying me not sending us any video logs or calling us for so long.”

“Will do.”

Hearing their dialogue, distant but not impossible to understand from where she stood, the Qilin chuckled a little at her friend’s request. Such serving to aid in calming her unease that had been crawling it’s way to the front of her mind. In turn granting her a chance to take a good, deep, slow breath in, and exhale in an equally controlled pace. After, adjusting her hand with the staff of her scythe in it’s hold, lifting to hold the weapon parallel with the ground beneath her as she stepped to turn. Quietly looking to the Umber, Mahogany, and Persian Aura forms that were her backup a few seconds before she’d give a nod. “I’m ready!”

Seeing the hand of the Captain raise, she turned herself northward once more. Though something was different now, across the dark gap that was the stream, past her Aura-based sight’s range past where the countless colorful strips that marked the grass ended, she saw a familiar sight. One that made her feel conflicted. One hand, she had suffered an injury to her head which had left her already heavily limited sight now fragmented and messy in her left eye, and caused months of disassociation from most everything she knew. On the other, it was a comforting presence that she had looked forward to experiencing both times before. A presence she felt a relation to, and as if it was aiding her in ways. The source-less white Aura form.

Even now, despite her hesitation, there was an underlying urge pushing her to go to it. To meet it’s embrace once more, to let herself forget her worries and fears momentarily and feel clarity. But she couldn’t, not now, not on the verge of putting herself through a trial by fire of sorts. Not yet at least, given it’s position relative to herself however, that brought an opportunity to mind. A chance to double down on what the goal of this experience was to be. One that brought a new level of motivation to burn bright and strong.

Bringing her scythe to a shared hold in both her hands and shifting to a lowered, readied stance a press was executed to two lock latches on either end of her weapon’s staff base. Instantly, the two shallow crescent blades on each side dropped out from their places, not getting more than a few inches from their respective ends before they’d abruptly stop, then begin to orbit around the readied Royal. One going low around her legs, spinning clockwise, the other going high about her shoulders with it’s direction reversed.

Readied, she looked over the unknown Aura once more before surrendering her sight and focusing on sound. Her eyes closed, her breath soft, her heart calm, the gentle humming from both vehicles of flight a ways behind her, the soft winds, it all came to her. Slowly, but reliably.

For an instant, she could’ve sworn she heard a gentle humming too, quiet, almost inaudible, but at the same time as if it was in the back of her head. Though she was unable to spend too much time on it, as just the next second the growling and groaning of distant beasts beat against her eardrums. One particular howl ringing through her head, though it sounded distant, more so than the rest at least. 

The Grimm and their cries of aggression almost stung in her ears with how loud they were in comparison to most everything else. Such soon being joined by the various rustling of plant-life and snapping branches. After a moment, even the thumping of feet against the ground beneath. Though such quickly became overwhelmed and replaced with something that sounded akin to something sliding across dirt. It wasn’t till just seconds later that she heard a squeal bursting out from the same direction that she realized it’s source.

Quickly shifting, raising the staff to her left at an angle, she felt the impact a second after, accompanied by another squeal. This one shorter than the last, but it confirmed the Grimm’s identity to her as a Boarbatusk. Immediately willing her orbiting blades, they both sank into the sides of the beast before it could rebound off her weapon to attempt another attack. Such combined with the correct push against the higher half of her staff sent the swine to the ground on it’s back. It’s squirming among the grass and pained noise both clearly audible to the woman. Just a tad louder than a growling that filled her right ear.

It was distinct, quickly noting the incoming beast was a Beowolf, and it was closing quickly judging by the quick patter of it’s feet to the ground. Stepping away from the squealing Boarbatusk, Emma spun to bring her weapon wide around her in her left hand to strike the Grimm beast to divert it’s path and hopefully cause it to tumble over it’s downed companion. 

No impact though, not until she felt the beast collide with her. Claws gripping at her shoulders. Feeling the sets digging in though thankfully being kept from puncturing all too easily by the rather simplistic armor that she had been provided on a short schedule. Though she knew it’s teeth would be another story as she felt it’s weight shifting to rush it’s head down to bite at her.

As fast as she could, even with being pinned the way she was, she guided her staff up between herself and the Beowolf to intercept. Exhaling relief the moment she felt the creature’s jaws clamp down around it, though she knew there was more to be done. Despite defending from the bite, she had to manage her right hand up to catch the other end before the momentum brought the Grimm’s head slamming down against her own. 

The rapid, repeated relaxation of it’s jaws to lift it’s head before dropping to bite at her again not once helping to make keeping it at bay any bit easier. Constantly having to adjust her hold with the limitations she had against it’s grip on her. Turning her own head from side to side trying to avoid from having the downward momentum still smack into her in some way.

She could hear the many growling, barking, roaring, and snarling Grimm surrounding the clearing beyond that of the Beowolf above her. Some worry set in that this could be a problem if she didn’t deal with the Canine. So many could come rushing in on her while she’s pinned. Emma couldn’t have that, not so soon.

Twisting herself some, she lets her right hand guide the staff instead of holding it. Quickly feeding the weapon with her left for the opposite end to meet the ground  and press into the earth. Keeping her grip with her left and her right now freed, her hand pressed to the ground beneath while twisting to her side what she could. Her new positioning allowing the swift draw of the blade she was provided with from it’s sheath. Her Semblance  swinging it ‘round to stab at the pit of the Grimm’s arm above her left. 

Feeling the beast shift to compensate for the Injury and to lift it’s head and cry out, she followed through. Willing the blade out from it once more and bringing it to stab into the creature’s neck before it could make to bite at her again. Not once ending her telepathic control on it to instead force the weapon to pivot in the Beowolf’s neck to ensure the kill. Hearing it’s last weak snarl fade out, she sent the blade retracting from the Grimm above and flying to embed itself at an angle into the Boarbatusk still struggling to recover with the blades in it’s sides. One more squeal, raspy and quiet, confirming the kill to Emma.

The expired and dissipating canine above her slumping lifelessly, leverage with her staff was the Qilin’s method in removing the beast from her and freeing herself to move. Actually utilizing it’s body to assist herself to her feet again, bringing her staff back to a proper hold in her right hand as she stood still for a moment. Letting herself listen to her environment. Sighs from behind her just barely audible above the mechanical humming, her own breath and heartbeat a little quick from the adrenaline, multiple sets of feet, paws, and claws against dirt, rocks, and trees. Another roar from the Ursa she heard earlier. 

Nothing coming right away, likely thanks to Maho’s copies keeping them occupied to give her a moment to recover. An appreciated bit of indirect support that she took advantage of. Opening her eyes, her limited gaze turned the direction she recalled seeing the odd source-less form before. still standing where it was, watching her. Yet something felt different,almost like it was smiling at her, the sensation proving to be oddly encouraging.

Taking it as a cue for her to continue, the growing Huntress stepped to the swine to take hold of and pull the short-sword free to sheathe it again. Planting a foot to the flaking Boarbatusk body next to allow her Semblance to pull the two blades of her scythe free from it with more ease. Returning them to their places along the staff in hand before beginning to the stream and across. Listening still for any closing sounds of the Grimm beyond the treeline she knew surrounded the clearing.

Though she would be stopped, staggering feeling a sting hit the side of her right ear and continue to streak along her cheek. Another carving along the back of her hand on the same side. Only after would her ears register a group of cawing from a few Nevermore. Thankfully, judging by the size of the cuts she received from their feathers the avian Grimm were on the smaller side. Would still need to deal with them before she was able to continue further than the opposite side of the stream that she was now on. 

Slowly, but surely, the sound of their wings beating against the winds began to reach her ears. Figuring they had been a bit away by the time they had attacked her the first. It was difficult to tell with how much a mess it sounded, but she guessed there was maybe four of them. Give or take two. It was clear that she’d have some trouble getting rid of these air-bound beasts, yet it had to be done.

Listening to them as they closed in, Emma started into a light jog their direction, scythe readied behind her. A Semblance-aided jump being taken to meet the small flock in the air with a spin in her form with aim to cut at one or two of them on her way up. Hearing most squawk as they avoided her, she could pick out one that did sound pained, though it didn’t sound like she stopped any from flying. 

On her way down, the woman twists herself while bringing her weapon to both hands. Once again disconnecting the blades to this time send them spiraling to the flock. Hearing, again, a noise of anguish from one of the Nevermore. Such being followed shortly after by a light thud against the ground a ways ahead of her as she slowed her descent to the ground. Touching down with a couple steps forward, she pivots quick to face the direction of the still flapping avian Grimm.

Bringing the crescents back to her side, they began circling her again like they had before. Waiting, she listens closely to the remains of the flock, hearing them breaking away to turn back her way and grow closer once again. Seconds after they seemed to begin circling her, hearing a set of wings on practically every side of her at all times. Countless squawks and caws bursting from the creatures.

Once more the Faunus sacrificed her sight, though this time differently than before. Last, she closed her eyes, but now she stopped and took a breath. Deep inhale, slow exhale. Feeling a gentle warmth envelop her, a thin layer of it, but still very much present. Still able to see herself, and the indistinct grass beneath her, but the pulses of her own aura were vacant. Rendering her unable to see the stones she knew were near the river, the surface of the shallow water. Nor the disturbance that would be the Grimm and the utter removal of her Aura she knew to occur whenever she looked at one close to herself before whenever a wave of her Aura pulsed out mid-fight in the past.

As every sound came to her, Emma became rather acutely aware of each Nevermore’s position relative to herself. One flying tight circles clockwise above her, two on opposite sides of her counter-clockwise, and one last one slowly making it’s rounds with a rapid, uneven pace of it’s wings flapping. The injured Nevermore from when she first retaliated. 

Immediately sending her blades flying to the weakened target, one hit was confirmed with a blade sinking in through the thing’s body. Willing the other back to her side, she pivoted to swing her staff wide with a slight leap, bringing it up beneath the impaled creature to knock it higher. Hearing telltale signs that it’s path disturbed that of another, she took advantage of the momentary disruption to send the second blade into the yet unharmed Grimm. Noting to herself three were down after hearing the subsequent thuds against the ground and the subtle hiss of their disappearing forms.

Over top those same noises, she hears the quickened pace of remaining two as they flew down at her. Feeling one perch itself atop her head, clawing and pecking at her while the other darted in and out to snap at her. Though she felt every attack the two assaulting Grimm dealt, there was no pain. Concentrating her Aura the way she had obviously came with it’s downsides, one such being how much it drained it with every hit she took, but at such a cost it protected her so well. Still recoiling and attempting retaliation with hand attempting to swat at both because of how close both both of them were. Her staff wasn’t a very good option in the moment.

In the rush of the moment it took the Qilin a moment before she could properly focus her mind to retrieve her scythe’s blades to her person. In the process bringing the one into the Nevermore over her head while she knew it was attempting a peck at her head. Feeling it go limp and fall first over herself before slipping off outright. The freedom she earned from such being used to bring her staff around and crack it down atop the remaining avian. Hearing it squawk once upon the impact between her staff and it’s body, and again alongside a quick, thump to the ground.

Almost the instant she heard the same hiss begin from the last, the warmth hugging her form disappeared entirely. Once again seeing her life energy surging out in waves from her form in time with her heart. The beating of which at a pace she hadn’t noticed till now, fast an needing to calm quickly before she could carry on properly. Though there was no time, the sounds of the Nevermore gone, everything else was free to return to her. Immediately making her aware that there were Beowolves incoming from how loud their grunting and growling was. 

She had only fought so few Grimm compared to what she intended, but with the abrupt small flock she could tell her pool of Aura was getting to it’s half way point. Thanks to her focus on defense of course, a soft curse escaping under her breath in spite at how reliant she was on it against such small beasts. The same in most other longer fights where she couldn’t be assisted by her teammates soon after she’d be engaged with one too many Grimm or one that she was not used to fighting.

Judging from the volume and direction she heard them, one was coming from the forest behind her. The other... no paws pattering against the ground, just it’s snarling, but where from? It was close, behind her, she could tell that much, but where... The snapping of a branch alerted her, behind and to the right, above her, it’s growling loud in her ear and getting closer by the second. It jumped at her from the tree line, she was a lot closer to it than she thought she was.

Ducking, Emma rolls herself the same direction as the wolf, hearing it land on the ground just past where she had been standing a second after. Willing a blade back to it’s spot in the staff as she heard it’s paws shuffling to turn to her, Emma managed to extend it out just as its shuffling turned to a sprint for her. Both relief and hurried planning running through her head feeling it push her scythe back as it bit down on the end and began pushing her back along the ground.

The other Beowolf was getting closer, or more likely she was getting loser to it because of her position. She could use the second of her weapon’s blades to attack the one at the end of her scythe, but to do so would leave her unprotected from the other with how she was holding the staff of the weapon. That’d get her nowhere.

Her Semblance, reduce how much her own body’s effected by gravity so she could push off from the ground to flip over the Beowolf using it’s momentum! But doing so would mean it could just push her back even faster, and she had no idea whether that would result in hitting a tree or being guided right into the claws of the second Beowolf that had yet to appear. No, just as much could go wrong as what could go right with that, and she couldn’t exactly focus herself to will the provided sword to draw from it’s sheath for use with her focus keeping the second crescent blade at her side during this. 

Then it came to her, repeat what she had done when she was pinned under the Beowolf earlier. It could very well cause the staff of her scythe to break from the abrupt stop and the force still pushing against it, but she’d still have it’s blades. Better to have a weapon break than for her to for that matter. No other idea had more positives than negatives that came to mind.

Twisting her body Emma forces the blade-less end of her weapon into the ground as hard as she could. Even embedding the second blade through it into the ground to secure it the instant she had moved her lower hand free. Immediately rolling herself the opposite way, out from the path of the Grimm as she heard it’s snarling interrupted with a somewhat choking sound as it stopped.

She could feel it’s eyes turn to her, feel the blood-lust behind them as it looked to her from it’s halted spot. Getting to her knees, she draws the blade from it’s sheathe at her hip and lunges for the Beowolf while she listens to it gripping and clawing at her scythe and the subsequent cracking of the staff. Thrusting the sword forward and up, the sensation of it experiencing resistance as it sank into the Grimm’s side was clear to the Huntress alongside a muffled and pained howl.

The sound was just quiet enough that the snarling of the second Beowolf filled her ears over top of it, but drowned out the sound of it’s feet. It was close, but the Qilin couldn’t discern just how close. Without much thought she jumps over the beast she had just stabbed to mount it’s back. Both hearing the second land where she used to be, and feeling it’s claws rake at her arm as they did. Thankfully only just barely breaking skin beneath the leather that protected her arm, though it did still sting.

Shifting her weight the Faunus used it to aid in withdrawing her sword from the side of the Grimm beneath her as she dropped to the opposite side. Hearing the second impact with the first just as she did. Stumbling a little onto her feet proper, she readies to strike at the unharmed Grimm trying to scramble over it’s kin to get to her. Yet she paused a moment, something hitting her ears behind everything else. 

This noise was difficult to figure out at first, but one thing gave it away. A snap. Loud, heavy, and close by with a tree creaking and falling just after. Abandoning her attack, she instead rushed forward and under the still propped up Beowolf to get behind the one climbing over. Hearing it bark and snarl at her before suddenly whining an instant before a heavy thud and a long hiss following after. Between the sounds hearing her weapon finally snap and break.

From the rough shape she got from the disruptions in the pulses of her Aura, she confirmed her thought on what had joined the fight. Though hearing the distant voices of her friend, father figure, and acquaintance, she assumed the presence of this Death Stalker wasn’t something planned at all. The one and only upside any of them could find in it’s appearance was the two wolves being killed by it in an instant.

She listened carefully to it’s legs as it stepped about, the hissing it let out as it shifted and the squelch that was made as it retrieved what she assumed was it’s stinger. With the sounds it made going left, she went right, keeping the distance between them the same the whole while. Refraining from going for the attack, as it seemed to be doing the same.

Keeping her ears on the beast, though she turned her limited visual attention elsewhere. First to her companions, seeing Peri’s Aura shifting just a little closer atop her great-shield. Second to the unknown Aura being at the far end of the clearing. Still standing watch, a sensation of worry across it’s formation, though there was also confidence? She could’ve sworn she saw it nod to her after she watched it for a few seconds.

A hand, then, extending out from it in her direction. Welcoming her closer, and she wanted to, she did when everything started, and still so now. Yet she knew she couldn’t yet, she’d be opening herself for attack if she were to turn and run for them. Had to either kill the scorpion or immobilize it in some way before she went to them.

Snapping, once, twice, three-four-five- Emma had to leap quickly to her left, hearing the Death Stalker’s pincer on her right grow just ever so slightly farther as it reared back. Lightening herself to cover the needed distance to get out of it’s range before weighing herself down to land quickly expecting  the other to counter. She could only barely catch the form of it moving to rush at her with the way it stopped her Aura in it’s tracks with each pulse.

Quickly bringing up the blade in her hand, with a hand behind the flat of it’s cutting end as she held it in angle, the impact of the two halves of the Grimm’s appendage hit hard. Feeling her arms buckle and bend from the force of it, almost demanding she take a step back. Before she would, she twisted her  hands and pushed the sword in her hold to guide the pincer away from it’s original path at her. Feeling it leave her weapon to instead crash into the ground behind. 

Adjusting, in one smooth motion she brings the sword ‘round proper, down against the arm connecting the pincer to the Stalker. Hearing the beast screeching after the brief moment of light resistance she felt with the blade cutting through. Some surprise rising in the back of her mind at how sharp the blade must’ve been as she sprung forward to a sprint through the new gap. Beyond the insect’s tail, the right side was now without a method of attack. Keeping that in her mind for how she’d move forward with ridding herself of it’s presence.

Running, the Qilin set her goal to the opposite end of the field to guide the creature. The way things were now, she was one weapon down and with two blades unavailable to her beneath the Death Stalker. She had to get those back before she could fight to her fullest extent, even with how efficient the sword in her hand was and how natural the use of it felt to her. Emma decided she’d have to thank Umbir once this was over.

It’s stomping legs were loud behind her, pounding at her ears without a break as it chased her. Yet she never stopped or turned, continuing on straight across, even as she could see the faint aura-shapes of the tree begin to enter her limited vision. Instead she’d adjust her path and form a little, increasing her speed as she kept going.

The first moment of slowing to come from the Faunus was once she got close to a tree. Dropping herself into a slide beside the trunk. Thankfully not contacting with any roots, she turned herself to face the Grimm again. Keeping low atop one knee, she prepares herself while listening to it’s approach.

Foul sounds from the Scorpion growing louder, louder, and louder still, until she hears the telltale snapping of it’s left claw. At the same point using a hand against the tree beside her and kicking off from the ground with some support of her Semblance, the woman sends herself flying just inches from the ground. Toward the Grimm, past where she hears the claw crash into the ground, and beneath the beast to the other side.

Continuing on with the momentum she had, Emma hears a breaking of ground behind her again. She could only really guess, but it must’ve been the beast’s stinger. Once sure she was closer to her broken weapon based on the hissing sounds of whatever remained from the Beowolves, she reached to quickly shove at the ground to increase her height. Adjusting her form after and undoing the change to the effect of gravity on herself to land on her feet immediately in a sprint for her equipment.

Already fully aware the Grimm insect was rushing her way by the quickly growing sound of it’s legs in motion. Without much time to act, the instant she was at the ending sound of the evaporating Beowolves, her hands found the broken staff and got to work. Keeping ears open and trained to the stomping of the Death Stalker.

Having set her sword aside, she first went to free the blade stuck in both the staff and ground. Having to press down on the staff with her foot as her hands gripped at the inner curve of the metal in order to have the proper leverage to work it out. Groaning with effort with each tug and shift made until finally it came up and out. 

The force at which she felt herself flung back with the resistance ending surprised the Qilin. Still, with it now available again, she let go. Semblance kicking in, the blade stopped before it could hit the ground, then in a second it practically slingshot around it’s wielder toward the charging scorpion. It’s speed and the angle resulting in the cutting edge slicing through one of the Grimm’s legs on the right side, slowing it somewhat with no claw to use as support on the same half.

Recovering the blade to orbit her body, hands were at her broken weapon again. Grabbing at the worse off end of the staff and trying it’s release mechanism. It didn’t budge. She swore beneath her breath. 

Without the proper time, there was no opening the staff to free the blade currently locked into it on her own. Of course, she didn’t have that time right now as the hissing and rapid stepping ever closer. Bringing the freed blade around in front of and above, a hand lifts the broken staff from the ground some to send the metal right through. Cutting the portion she needed free.

Snapping. In one smooth motion Emma had to do multiple things. Throw the broken piece of her staff toward the airship, utilize her Semblance to send it toward Umbir while also slinging the blade she had available to attack the Grimm, and bring her sword to ready a block. Though knowing full well that it was already down one claw, she could only assume that it may utilize her stinger first this time instead.

With her left hand, Emma used the momentum of the piece being freed to throw her arm back and toss it to propel it for her Semblance. Her right quickly grabbing her sword to raise it at an angle from her right side going above, bringing left to support the top of the blade. The same moment willing the available blade from her scythe to circle herself and slingshot into the Scorpion monstrosity.

The instant that followed, there was a tight pressure closed against the sides of her right arm stopped by her blade, and a loud hiss. Lowering the arm, her own pained noise burst out following alongside the rapid stepping of the beast in front of her. To her ears, such noise grew more distant, even if only slightly, though she could hear the rush of wind as it seemed to be flailing about. 

It could only ever be a guess with her, but from how visceral the Death Stalker’s reaction to her counterattack brought the thought to mind that she struck an eye. Having to think a moment as left hand moves to cradle the opposite arm, she  was sure that with the angle she had sent the blade would mean it hit the insect on it’s left. 

If she was right, then she was just making things worse for this Grimm with each strike she got on it. She felt good, being able to manage herself like this, even after having lost one weapon. Really good.

“Emma!” Umbir’s voice, her head immediately swiveling to look toward her father figure. “Incoming!”

Not till seconds later when hearing something whiz by her head would the Qilin be sure what he meant. Quickly reaching her left hand out toward the object that was now well past her, her telekinetic Semblance grabbed onto it for her. Bringing the newly freed second crescent blade to orbit herself while she worked to stand.

Recalling the first, a pained screech filled her ears again from the Death Stalker. Though she didn’t pay it any attention for a second beyond registering it was still stomping and flailing about. Instead letting herself breathe, feeling the two blades circling her form where they belonged and the sword in her hand. Her arm hurt, but thankfully from what she could tell nothing was broken. Bruised for sure, but she could bear with that and keep it moving.

Keep moving. Without much more time than what it took to give a few squeezes to her weapon’s grip and to exhale after a deep breath, Emma set to a sprint. Rushing forward, though she heard the creature to her left. Each step making the blades spinning ‘round her move faster and faster, as she so willed it to be. Adjusting herself to slowly curve ‘round the creature as the orbiting speeds kept building more and more. Only letting them fly to their target as she herself turns sharply toward the beast.

Hearing the result of the first, the thing had to have hit the front left leg of the Grimm. A thump filling her ears either from it’s front slamming into the ground or the creature forcing it’s remaining claw down as support. The second, nothing. Might’ve sent it too high if the thing was lower now because of two legs being severed.

No matter, while recalling the two crescent blades she continued on her course. Gripping firm to the sword’s handle with both hands, she gets as close to the Death Stalker as possible before dropping to a slide atop her thankfully protected knees. Thrusting the blade up into the underbelly of the insectoid as she glided along the ground beneath to carve along it.

Refraining from pulling the weapon free, she instead used the momentum she had to let the sword catch against the underside of the Grimm’s exoskeletal structure. The subsequent angle it was forced to take being leverage that she used to rite to her feet again, quickly turning to plant a foot against the roiling creature to push at it while pulling her sword to free it. A consequence of a short stumble, but nothing she couldn’t deal with. 

Her Semblance’s passive aspect had her upright on her feet in a second, allowing a rush and jump onto the beast’s back. Using both her crescent blades and the sword in hand, while keeping herself stable atop the moving being, all three blades were brought against the tail leading to the stinger. With a lone blade on the one side, two on the other, the cut went smoothly with the added forces. 

Not a second later did she hear the clacking of the stinger against the exoskeletal shell atop the Death Stalker’s body just beneath it’s shrieking. Taking a second atop the Grimm, she looked toward it’s left side for the empty shape of it’s remaining claw in the pulses of her aura. From what she could tell, it was thrashing against the ground time and again. Likely attempting to attack at her, while also seeking to keep it’s balance proper.

Preparing the two crescent blades just in front of her legs, she jumped from atop the creature’s back to fall between it’s claw and the body proper. Bringing blade sword down from overhead and the two blades up from beneath, she repeated the clean cut through that had been done to the tail. Removing the thing’s final option of offense. 

With a spin and step to the side, she thrusts her sword into the face of the beast. Willing the two extra blades to join it, securing the kill by feeling it’s body fall to the grass below. Drawing all three over the next few seconds as she listened to her surroundings. 

The roar of the Ursa from before, closer now than it was, Beowolves barking and snarling. The squealing of another Boarbatusk. Shrieking from what she could only assume was a Creeper nearby the swine. It was difficult to pick out which one was closest this time around, everything sounded the same distance away.

Without any other course of action coming to mind, one thing became her focus. Turning around once more, the Aura still stood there, ever watching her. Now, both it’s arms outstretched. Wide to it’s sides in front of it. Adjusting the two blades to simply follow behind, the Qilin sheathes her sword and begins running over to the unknown, yet familiar form. Still as stationary and frozen, almost statuesque from what she’s been told about those, as it had always been prior. Yet as she approached, something else became visible to the life energy that the humanoid figure consisted of.

Orange. A thin outline of orange around the otherwise pure white figure. Taking in the difference to it’s form, she felt a warmth in her heart that hadn’t occurred the past two times. Right alongside the want to-no, the need to cry. To enter into this Aura’s embrace and let all her worries and past pains flow free against it’s bosom. Yet it was unclear to her why she was feeling this.

Having slowed just feet from them, she closed the last little gap with curiosity and caution. First reaching a hand forward, she felt the heat of it without a physical body to give such off. Her other joining the first, letting both hover just inches away. Finally moving them forward to wrap ‘round the being as she pressed herself close, breathing in long and deep before sighing out.

Once more she felt time go weird. The very moment she was in stretching out to become years of time. Pain in her cheek, hand, and arm all gone though the wounds still remained. Her racing heart slowing to a calm beat.

It felt like those tears that had been threatening to flow earlier were freely going now, yet her cheeks felt as dry as they were before. As if they were being wiped away the instant they left her eyes. Each time she swore a gentle cooing filled her ears.

A small, fury little shape rubbing against her chin too? She would’ve questioned it if not for how little it currently bothered her not knowing what it was. For now her attention was on something else.

On someone else.

A voice gently caressing her eardrums, inaudible to start. The second time, however, it was clear. Directly before her. Soft, loving, almost a whisper.

“Smoke, my sweet child.”

A gentle humming accompanying the voice, working through a gentle and comforting tune. Emma could feel the person’s non-existant hand, cupped behind her head and smoothly, slowly stroking through her hair.

“Such a beautiful, strong young woman you’ve become. I’ve been absent from your life, so very absent, but I’ve watched every step of your long journey. From that little, fragile babe in my arms, to this wonderful lady I’m holding now. I couldn’t be more proud of how you’re pushed on through so many hardships.”

The Qilin choked up hearing the woman’s whispered words. Realization quickly coming to her upon the identity of the unknown Aura. Or, at-least, she thought it was. For as she opened her eyes to look to the form once more, the colors had swapped places. The white now a thin outline around an orange figure, the presence of which felt so much more familiar than that of the white. Intimately connected to her even.

“Even if I could thank her, it would be impossible for me to thank Harley enough for having raised you in my place. Nor Umbir, the father you so deserved, truly. If there was one thing I could possibly change, it would be having him present for all your life, bringing you up and into the world right alongside Harley from birth. Give you a proper family to replace the honest mess that was myself and Manus. An affair I honestly did not enjoy all that much, but have no regret towards whatsoever. Not when it lead to you.”

A pair of lips, soft and warm, pressing firm against her forehead for a long moment. The gesture earning a happy giggle of a hum out of the Huntress.

“I can not stay for long, Smoke, neither can Lady Giulia who so graciously allowed me to convene with you now. Who had watched over you and so very gently aided you along this path to now. But know that even after we’re gone, we will not have left you. Forever present in your heart, in your mind, and in the necklace ‘round your neck. When we leave, it will be with a gift left in our wake, one which we know will aid you well in your life, and with a Guardian to watch over your future in our place.”

Feeling the figure shift, the warmth of it’s hands enveloped her face on both sides. The smooth surface of a forehead touching to her own, and she could feel the gentle, warm breath against her face.

“We love you, Emma Smoke Khromatos. I love you, Smoke Kaj. I always have, and always will believe that you will have a wonderful, bright future. So please, believe in us, and in yourself, and remember this moment whenever you feel you need comfort.”

Once more, the lips to her forehead, this time lasting longer yet they eventually began to fade away. Not pull back. The warmth of their lips, the hands holding her face, the comforting presence, it all began to fade. Yet it was now felt inside her, within her chest, her heart, keeping her calm even as some distress arose at their leaving. 

Though something came clear to her mind before it was entirely gone, a voice different than the last. Louder, deeper, older even. Yet while what she heard, to her, was impossible to understand as it sounded to be in a different language than those she knew, it’s meaning was clear in her mind. She couldn’t tell why, but knew that she had something to do after everything was done.

Closing her eyes again, she breathed deep. In. Out. Then felt a weight in her arms and the fuzzy little shape from before rubbing against her chin. Giggling a little as she opened her eyes only to see the familiar shape of a bright grey Aura filled Weasel. The unusually large critter for it’s Species moving it’s head back so it could lick rapidly at the chin it had nuzzled against, much to Emma’s delight.

“He-heh-hey Ali.” A laughed greeting to the animal companion that had normally watched her from a distance since her childhood. This closeness and physical contact, after so many glimpses and little more than that for years, was an extremely welcome change. Bringing an almost overwhelming sense of comfort to the Qilin in the new absence of the Aura forms from before. It felt right to finally interact with the companion she was linked to since such a young age.

Yet, even with the ease she was feeling, there was a hint of something else. A tingling that caught her attention, off the sides of her nose and just above her top lip. The sensation was weak at first, but with each second it grew and grew, eventually leading her to lower herself to set the animal down. She could hear it squeaking at her with some concern as she brought a hand to rub at the tingling space. Nothing there, and her touch did nothing to quell it in the slightest.

She was about to groan a little and start trying to scratch at it, but the sound of Ali suddenly snarling caught her attention. Looking to the form of the Weasel to try and understand which direction it was looking. Reaching a hand down to pet over it’s back to try and comfort it as she did. But she’d stop that forward momentum to redirect it to the grip of her blade a moment later. 

The woman could sense something, but not hear it. Something close by and quickly getting closer. It would be seconds after that the rustling of a bush would alert her, and she could hear the rapid snapping of it’s branches. What she was feeling, what she could hear, Emma was sure the thing approaching was a Boarbatusk. Though something about how it felt told her it was not alone. 

Her mind was racing, asking so many questions on end without stopping as she tried to process this. She hadn’t heard much more than the rustling plants, yet she could tell the direction of the Grimm, it’s movements, and that it wasn’t the only one coming from the same space. Why? It made no sense, she never could before, and even with what she knew of her ancestors she couldn’t recall another ever having had anything like this. Semblance or otherwise.

Noticing only as her mind ran through this new development that she could sense Ali beside her and the two blades that were once part of her Scythe behind her. Confusedly willing the two previously stationary crescent blades to start circling her while drawing the sword from it’s sheath. She wouldn’t have answers until she could ask Harley and Umbir, but she had to finish what she came here to do before that would be possible. 

The two swine were closing in, fast, and she could tell the one was about to emerge from the treeline ahead. Lowering her free left hand, she presses it gently atop the curved back of the Weasel in front of her. Just looking to the way her Aura fluctuated, unlike other animals she could see the aggression it had. There was no way she’d leave her to fight on her own, that much was easily clear to her. “Let me lead.” 

There was no need for some sort of response, the way it’s snarling seemed to calm following her command told her that the Weasel understood. The two sitting quiet beyond her companion’s aggression made audible for a short few seconds. Hearing the noise of the first Boarbatusk breaking through the shrubbery at last, she launches forward from her kneeling position. Thrusting her sword forward to stab into and stop the beast’s momentum abruptly enough it pushed her back a little and made her weapon raise.

While it’s squealing filled her ears, she could hear a squeak from Ali just behind her beneath the Grimm’s sound. Aware as the Weasel launched forward, rushing up her back and over her shoulder to pounce onto the Boarbatusk at the end of her blade. Immediately she could hear her growling become muffled, seeing her Aura form wiggle and thrash about while the head stayed relatively in place.

There was a split second before Emma realized that, on top of being well aware of the second Boarbatusk’s approach, she could even tell the positioning of the one she had stabbed. It’s back legs trying to keep on the ground, front legs flailing in the air attempting to strike at her as it squealed. She had gotten it right in the underbelly. With what she could tell of where Ali was, the Weasel had bitten into the Grimm’s throat and was violently trying to break through the surface to kill it.

She couldn’t keep where she was though, the second was coming, both sensing it getting closer and hearing it burst out from some plants a little bit away. Bringing her scythe’s blades around, they embed into the sides of the Boarbatusk at the end of her blade. Keeping it where it was for Ali, she draws her sword free and with a turn drops to her knee with it in front of her. 

Though she doesn’t put it with the flat side facing the second Boarbatusk charging her, no. Instead, forcing the last inch into the ground and using the metal brace on the back of her forearm, she braces herself with the cutting edge facing the beast. Only a second after this feeling the force of the creature rolling right into her weapon. Yet the impact comes and goes within seconds, ending with the thud of one of the Grimm’s tusks against her higher knee and a faint squeal.

Rising and stepping back, the pull she gives to her weapon is done at an angle to both free it from the dirt below and get the swine-like Grimm off of it. The speed at which it spun when impacting with her weapon had resulted in it’s downfall, seeming to sort of wedge her weapon in it a few inches. It surprised her how well she had timed such action, and with her weapon stabbed into something else no less.  Compared to before when she had gotten her weapon wedged into the mouth of one Beowolf on one end and the other into the ground, it had been a smooth action.

Part of the Qilin was wondering if she had been using the wrong weapon this whole time. Not that she wasn’t able to wield a scythe or staff properly, she had been trained to do both when she was younger and naturally got further training from her travel away from Ventus. The weapon she had been using during all that time was meant to be Samuel’s anyway, and as his training partner back then he had to be taught how to wield such weapons right. Only made sense that she was taught so too, even if it was a somewhat odd process.

Yet she had trained in sword-based combat before that, and kept dabbling in it during some of her free time whenever Umbir was available. Even with how little training there was in such weaponry in comparison, it still felt so much more natural now that she had been one for a bit.

Ali’s weight as the Weasel leaps up to stand across and atop her shoulders behind her head brings Emma back to the present. Noticing only now that the once flailing swine of a Grimm was limp from how she could feel the body’s state and hear the slight hiss of it evaporating. Willing the blades, they dropped the dead beast and returned to her side once more.

At a squeak by her ear, she raises a hand to cup, pet, and gently scratch at the Weasel’s head. “You took care of that a lot quicker than I realized, huh?” Soft and brief giggling following her exclamation.

The moment was nice, for both of them. A brief relief from the creatures that had threatened them. A glimpse of how things will be between the Khromatos and her companion going forward. They were already looking forward to it, to finally being present in one another’s lives and able to aid each other or comfort the other if needed. As feeling the heavy weight of the unusually large animal atop her shoulders was comforting to her in this moment already.

Both were torn from their thoughts on what’s to come with a nearly perfectly synced turn of their heads and shift to readied stances. A growling noise having set them off. Deep, loud, and close. From what she could oddly enough feel, the Huntress was sure the source was the Ursa she had heard multiple times prior. And that the beast was not of it’s Minor variety, but a Major, and it was just rounding a tree to her left.

Hearing the monstrosity let out a roar, Emma quickly brought a hand to secure her animal companion, lowered herself, and sprung back and away from the beast. Assistance from her semblance carrying her a ways toward the gentle noise of the water flowing through the opening’s center as she listened to the Grimm chase her. It’s feet pounding heavy against the ground and it’s breath heaving with each forward lunge to attempt to close the gap between itself and it’s prey. 

Already well aware of how high she had gone into the air, she knew she was coming down again just through thought. However, she could also sense it. Feeling the distance between the ground and her feet begin to shrink beneath her. This allowed her to prepare for it earlier than normal, stretching one leg and angling toes to catch herself, the other bent to be ready for her back-step.

Touching down, she skipped back instead, catching herself on her other foot to stand again. Bringing the two crescent blades to begin circling herself already at high speeds as she lowered and readied herself. Bringing sword in hand up in front of herself, blade rested on the back of her offhand. 

Feeling the beast rushing her, the distance between them as it kept closing, she could hear Ali growling next to her ear. Both of them were ready to act against the Ursa ahead. The gap growing smaller, smaller, and smaller, sensing it rear an arm back to swipe. 

Reacting, the Qilin lunges low under the arm, feeling the Weasel that had been on her shoulders leap off instead. Sensing the figure of her companion latch onto the arm that had tried to attack her and rush to the Grimm’s back. Meanwhile, she herself stops her movement and thrusts her sword into the pit between the arm and the body above her. Sending both her extra blades into the same space the next moment they were in a prime position during their orbit.

Pushing the sword with her hands and the blades with her Semblance with a shout, she feels the gap between the body and arm of the Ursa form. Hearing the beast roar in pain and the thud of the appendage on the ground. Sensing and catching a glimpse of the dark figure among her next pulse of Aura rise up with it’s other arm raising further. 

Before it could swing down at her, she brought her blade back down, sending her offhand the direction of the readied arm. The crescent blades she had both flying to the appendage with her guidance. Hearing it groan in response, she can tell it’s flailing the injured arm for a moment. During which she rises to her feet again to step back and jump over.

While above the Ursa, she can hear the Weasel growling and biting at the creature earning multiple loud, pained, angered noises from the beast. Feeling the erratic movements of it’s body atop the neck among the exoskeletal bone spikes. Spinning, she lands on the opposite side of the beast and quickly brings her weapon swinging up to the same spot of the Grimm as last. While not severing it entirely she can tell it’s gone limp from it’s weight falling on her blade, and the sensation of it hanging just inches from her.

She was forced to pull the blade free feeling the Ursa’s body jerk to the side. The Grimm growling and snarling loudly, flinging it’s head this way and that, stumbling to keep itself upright. Then suddenly, it fell forward with a heavy thump atop the ground. It was still growling, she could sense and hear it’s back legs flailing and the claws on the feet scratching at the ground, but it couldn’t move much beyond that. 

The agile, jumpy form of Ali could be felt by the Huntress as it rushed along the creature’s back and jumped onto her shoulders once again. She just needed to finish the Grimm now. Stepping ‘round the limp arm and raising the weapon, aiming it down to the moving head of the Ursa. Dropping herself to a knee to plunge the blade into the back of it’s head. 

A hand to the back of the now evaporating beast being used supported the young woman back onto her feet proper. Drawing the weapon from the bone mask and the head beneath, letting it hang at her side as she tilts her head back to breathe. Feeling the head of the Weasel once again pressing against her cheek after a few seconds earning a short chuckle. “I’m okay, Ali, thank you for helping out.”

A howl, loud, close to the clearing from what she and her companion could tell. Two more joining it, three more after that, another three, then more. The cacophony of their howling was too much for the woman to determine how many in total, but she knew there was at least ten of them. It sounded like they were all close, and they were going to act soon. Together.

The first disturbance in the clearing, one Beowolf, on her left in a full sprint, it’s huffed breathing clear to her ears over it’s stamping feet. One second later, two more, one to the first’s right and the other straight ahead of herself. A quick idea came to her.

“Ali, straight!” Willing one of her crescent blades in front of her, she could feel the Weasel leap atop the flat of it from her shoulder. Immediately sending it and her companion to the Beowolf that made itself present ahead of her while pivoting into a sprint to the two on her left. Sending her second available blade into the one farther back, she readied her sword for the closer.

Behind her, Emma could feel the movement of her first blade flying at it’s target. Ali leaping from the weapon over a swiping claw onto the shoulder of the Beowolf at the same moment the weapon embedded into the same area beneath. Rushing up to the head where she was sure her ally bit at it’s ear, tearing it off in seconds. A series of pained snarling out of the Grimm she had tasked her companion with.

Meanwhile in front of her, the second of her blades sinking into the thigh of the farther Beowolf. The beast yelping and flying forward to crash into the ground. The same moment the one she was charging reared onto it’s hind legs as it kept at her, raising a claw high as it approached. Feeling it start to come down, the Qilin thrust her sword high to the arm swinging down at her. 

Redirecting it with a swing to the side, the forward momentum of the Grimm sent it past her, freeing her weapon in the process. Recalling the blade in the other’s leg, she sent it straight to the same on the one now behind her earning a sharp bark. While doing so, she ran past the blade to the farther canine as she could sense it was trying to stand again. 

Not giving it a chance, Emma called the blade from the Grimm Ali was still attacking. Shooting it ahead of her into the crook of the neck of the one before her. Swinging swift at it’s arm reaching for her as she got close, using the momentum to swing the sword wide and high only to bring it down at the neck proper. 

The Beowolf let out a weak growl as it perished, but not before she felt it’s teeth clamp around her forward leg. Hissing herself at the pain of the last effort of the beast, though she could feel that while the teeth broke through the leather covering the sides of her leg, the wounds were kept shallow enough to just need patching up. Nothing severe. 

Recalling both extra blades to her side, she used them to pry the head from her leg before pulling her weapon from the neck. Hearing telltale sounds of the first of the pack readying itself on it’s feet to rush her again. Feeling it rising from the ground and standing tall with a growl.

Two more Beowolves, both to her right as she faced the wounded one turning her way. Too close for her to get away if she rushed the one ahead. Despite that, rush it she would.

With the blades around her setting to their orbits, she focused. Sending them spinning faster and faster with each step she took to the injured Beowolf, the first she hears beyond the collection of growling is a series of yelps from the one in front of her. The speed of her extra blades cutting at the beast again and again, her slight adjustments of their angles keeping it from being able to retaliate. In the meantime she was able to stab forward at the creature time and again, small swings here and there.

To it’s outstretched arm before it could retract after being cut by the circling weapons. Spinning and lowering to get at it’s closest leg. Using the momentum to rise and bring her weapon up to the bottom of it’s snout. Bringing the blade down to then stab it forward toward the throat, though even with her newfound sense of the physical forms of these beasts her sword’s blade came short as it stumbled back.

The approaching footsteps of the extra Grimm grew louder by the second with each offensive action she took.

Taking advantage of the backward momentum the one had, she leaps forward to it to knock it further and down to the ground. Once feeling the downward momentum carrying it to the earth beneath and herself down atop of it, Emma launches the two orbiting blades toward the approaching Beowolves. Hearing both yelp and fall as confirmation she hit her targets with their back feet. She could tell the blades had sunk far enough in thanks to their speed that they were both momentarily pinned in place.

With her moment of time, she brought her sword in front of her aimed blade-down as she fell over the Beowolf. The downward momentum sending the blade into it’s throat upon impacting with the ground. Not wasting a second, the Huntress forced the blade out the side of it’s neck to end the enemy beneath her and rolled with the momentum to catch herself on her feet again. Immediately setting to a sprint to aid her companion and rid them of the third.

As she went, she actually threw her sword ahead of her and propelled it further with her Semblance. One quick, hard burst of energy behind it correcting it’s angle to where she could feel it would eventually find purchase in the chest of the flailing Beowolf. A howl bursting out of it in pain.

“Ali!” A short, simple call to the Weasel she could sense was still on it’s shoulders, biting and clawing into the neck. Almost as if knowing what she was intending, she felt a gap form between her and the Beowolf beneath as Ali jumped. Coming back down atop it, Emma caught only a quick glimpse of the dark form outlined by her aura pulsing out with her racing heart as it suddenly fell to it’s knees. 

The closer she got the clearer she could feel it. The Grimm’s left arm pressed to the ground to keep itself up, both it’s ears torn off, chunks of it’s shoulders and neck bitten away by the Weasel. Her sword embedded in it’s chest, which she ran straight for and jumped as the Beowolf pushed up to try for the Weasel on it again. Bringing her knee forward, right to the pommel of the sword, sending it deep into the chest.

Still hearing the Beowolf groaning and huffing heavy breaths full of hurt and strain, she knew it wasn’t dead yet. Though she could sense it’s arms had dropped limp to it’s sides after she had likely driven the blade far enough to pierce whatever passed as a Grimm’s spine. Plus she could sense the two she had pinned had freed themselves and begun her way once more, though slower now with wounded feet.

Pulling the sword out a short bit, Emma let go of the handle to instead bring her elbow down on it. Driving the blade higher into the beast’s chest and weakening it further for her to take hold again, step underneath, and drive it up to the neck where she finally pulled it free. The same instant focusing her Semblance to free the crescent blades and recall them to her, letting them turn wide to cut at the opposite hind-legs of the two Beowolves charging at her while they passed.

Admittedly she was feeling good. Initially after she had felt the presence of her ancestors leave, she thought that the knowledge that came to her mind in that instant was the gift that they had mentioned leaving her with. But now she was sure that wasn’t the case, that it was instead this odd new capability. This sense she had so abruptly developed. 

She could feel everything around her that she could previously only see if it was coated by her aura or had Aura of it’s own. Precisely feel the movements of the dead Beowolf behind her as it’s body fell forward, of Ali’s shifting feet to keep on it’s back until it had settled before the Weasel rushed around to her side. Even that of the bending arms and legs, the moving jaws, the swinging tails, even the digging of claws into dirt of the two Beowolves rushing her. Those two plus three more breaking through plants and past trees behind her.

Quickly she called her companion, the animal jumping high onto her shoulders. Immediately following it’s weight settling on her, a hand rose to secure Ali before Emma jumped herself. Letting her extra blades drop entirely, she focused her Semblance wholly on counteracting Gravity’s affect on her to get as high into the air as she could, as fast as she could, and to stay for as long as she could manage.

“Umbir!” Calling out upon feeling her upward momentum slow, hearing and feeling the five Grimm come to a stop below her and begin pacing. One trying to jump to reach her a couple times over. 

The Qilin didn’t need to say anything more, hearing the rush of wind just seconds after her call and the sharp yelp of a Beowolf beneath along with another letting out a strained growling. A moment of curiosity washing over her as she couldn’t feel her father-figure’s approach, but she could now sense him standing beneath. Blade embedded through the skull mask of one Beowolf, a hand tight around the throat of another and squeezing.

Easing her focus from keeping herself up, Emma turned her Semblance back to the two blades from her Scythe again. Picking them from the ground while descending and setting them to orbit a circle directly beneath her that encompassed where she’d land. Putting them to speeds she knew it’d be unlikely for one of the remaining three Beowolves to try and strike at her, nor her Father figure as they’d have to circle around it due to being on the opposite side.

“Help me with finishing this, Papa?” Speaking soft to the taller man behind her while she eased to the ground with outstretched foot finding purchase.

“Gladly, Your Majesty, but before we continue, I must ask. What happened back there? When you were at the opposite end of the clearing?”

“I met someone, and it was a meeting twenty years overdue.” 

With her answer given, Emma pat at Ali’s back and lunged for the remaining three Beowolves. The Weasel leaving her back, but it ran right alongside her. Behind her she could hear a slight hum from her father figure, but then sensed him rushing around and tossing the Grimm that was in his grip at one of the others.

Feeling the limp Beowolf flying through the air past her, she felt and heart the impact between it and the one off to her right. The beast being knocked back and to the ground beneath the corpse of it’s kin. She kept onward, the blades following her as they circled both her and Ali.

“Ali, left!” As soon as the command left her lips, both blades were flying for the leftmost canine monstrosity. In the same moment preparing the sword low at her side to swing when she needed. Sensing the one direct in front of her launch itself at her with a loud bark, a quick adjust of her weapon’s angle allowed her to bring it up into it’s chest as it came down on her. 

In the same moment as she fell back, repeating when she had been pinned earlier now with a blade keeping the Beowolf above her, she sensed the crescent blades impact. The two sinking in on either side of the neck of the other Beowolf, Ali jumping up to follow suit just after and biting right into it’s throat between them. 

A second after she could hear the metal of Umbir’s armor suit as he began to move, feeling that it was in the direction of the same Grimm her companion was on. This in mind she recalled her blades, hearing the beast snarl and growl from the injuries and feeling it flailing to try and land a hit on the wiggling Weasel. Sending the two weapons to their next target immediately, the throat of the one atop of her who’s claws were scratching uselessly at the plating on her shoulders but growing uncomfortably close to her neck. 

She could feel one graze over her collarbone just before the creature fell limp with it’s head essentially severed. Lifting a foot to push the dissipating Grimm off her weapon while pulling it down and guiding the literal dead weight off to the side to free her movement to rise again.

While she got back to her feet, Emma could feel a few things occurring around her. 

One, the Grimm Umbir had knocked over with it’s kin was free and getting back to it’s feet. Two, her father figure and companion had ended the other and the Weasel had climbed up to his shoulders like they had her own multiple times since they began working together this day. Third, another two Beowolves passing the treeline, though they weren’t headed her way or Umbir’s. Instead they were by the ship, two gunshots ringing loud in the clearing from her teammate and their movement was no more. Finally, the creeper she had heard screech before, it’s screech sounding again and it’s feet rapidly carrying it straight to her from the tree line nearby.

Already hearing and sensing her allies going for the last Beowolf, she took it upon herself to cut down what could easily be considered the runt of the Grimm. One last adversary before she was done.

Once more she collected the crescent blades from her scythe with her Semblance out of a Grimm corpse. Bringing the two to her sides and keeping them in place as she rushed her last opponent. The Creeper screeching louder and louder as it approached, she could feel it’s mouth gaping wider and wider with aim to bite into her.

Emma never gave it a chance to do so, sending the extra blades to lodge it’s maw open she brought her sword low, angled it’s blade high, and brought it up into that waiting mouth. Piercing straight through the top of the Grimm’s head in one swift stab. 

Taking all of the immediately dead weight of the beast onto her weapon and pushing her back, but she managed to keep herself from doing any more than a single step backward. Direction of her weapon to the left and a matching twist of her body allowing for swift removal of the now evaporating creature from it. Thus allowing her to finally sheath the sword at her hip and recollect her crescent blades.

This time actually bringing the two to overlap and carefully guiding them to one of her hands. Taking hold by the wider concave center of the underside to safely carry them with her. Turning, and finally, calmly walking back toward her father figure. Seeing his Aura figure standing in wait with Ali atop his shoulders still. Staying in place until she was close enough so it could then jump to her shoulders instead. Laying down across them, hanging slightly around the back of their owner’s neck.

“Umbir.” Speaking up as she slows at the man’s side.

“Yes, Lil’ Filly?”

“Do you know anything about something called the Khrom Spear?

“That... I never thought I’d hear it mentioned again.... Come, I can tell you about it on the flight back. Captain Maho and his crew could maybe help us with it and right now you need some patching up.”

Seeing him offer his hand, Emma shifts the blades so she can take it. The two of them beginning back to the shuttle in silent relief that this trial was done.

Only now did the Qilin truly feel the pain from all the wounds she had received, even with as shallow as they’ve thankfully been. Her cheek and the back of her hand both wet, cold, and gross feeling. A slow trickle of warm liquid along her collarbone and down her chest. Left thigh stinging with each step and she could feel the fabric of her clothing beneath the temporary armor starting to stick. Plus her shoulders, oh were they ever sore.

It felt good, like the sore muscles one might experience following a thorough workout. She knew he’d be sore, and that her mind will be running over this new ability to feel her surroundings and the ‘Khrom Spear’ that she learned of from the Aura form earlier. But she also knew that her sleep would be peaceful that night.

[myaphelion]

On video games, Children’s Lit, and the hatred of new media in academia

"On the other hand, television, movies, and video games have eroded what is expected of children in terms of both language skills and attention span. What these visual media have done is provide watered-down and even simplistic renderings of many classics, as well as privilege plot over characterization, style, and narrative point of view. Video games are the most bastardized of these visual media because the focus lies exclusively with what happens next. Thus, although making children more aware of the world around them has resulted in their beginning to read texts in a different way, the same means by which children have become able to challenge the existing paradigms make it more difficult for them to read those texts."

-  William Thompson, ENGL305, Literature for Children (rev. C4)

So. About this part of the Children’s Lit course I just completed.

I’m not much of a stranger to people crapping on new media—it’s been happening since the beginning of time, and I’ve read about and seen it time and time again. First music, then books, then film, then television, then more new music, then music videos, and now video games and various forms of internet media. Still, in an academic setting, especially in a school that offers courses on gaming, I didn’t expect to see this. But here we are I guess??? (Academia is garbage, don’t ask me.)

Anyway. This gives me an excuse to compare the history of children’s lit to the history of video games directed at children, along with explaining why this quote bothered me so much in a bit greater detail.

Okay, so let’s start with the quote itself and pick it apart a bit. I can agree with the author’s assertion that more easily accessible media makes it harder to sit down and do something like read a book cover-to-cover—I know for a fact it’s happened to me and several other people. On the other hand, having media that’s more easily accessible like movies, TV, and (some) video games can lead people towards reading the source of their favourite things. Not to mention that some stories can’t be told in books—choose your own adventure stories are little substitute for the programming of a game where you can see your actions have consequences in real time rather than just reading about it on a page, which may not have as immediate or as harsh an impact.

“Watered-down and… simplistic renderings of many classics [that] privilege plot over characterization, style, and narrative point of view.” What, course author, have you been watching, besides the oldest of Disney movies, and even then—even then!—they have a style all their own. Just because something is different from the original ‘classic’ that you may love, does not necessarily make it ‘watered-down’ or ‘simplistic’. I do agree that some movies, TV shows, and video games bastardize the works they’re based on. But—and this is an enormous but—books can do the very same for other universes. Have you read some of the worse Star Wars Extended Universe novels lately? God knows they didn’t help the SW canon when they were still considered canon. And your comment about ‘plot over everything’ is just… ridiculous. Some of the books I read in the course, and some of the stories you pointed out from the early days of children’s literature, by your own admission, heavily favoured either plot, characters, style, or narrative POV to the exclusion of one or all of the others. It’s not just new media that do this—any poorly-written or poorly-conceived piece can lack one or more of these things. Even good media can have problems with one or more of these things that are made up by the strength of the other areas. Some media isn’t meant to have amazing characterization, or style, or narrative POV—some media really is all about the plot, and that can be very much a positive thing.

Now, the final bit of the quote that’s relevant. Let me remind you again what it says. “Video games are the most bastardized of these visual media because the focus lies exclusively with what happens next.” As… as opposed to what, author? Do you think that people just pick up books in order to analyze the absolute crap out of them until they can only enjoy them on that level? Hell no! The ordinary person, and especially the ordinary child, will pick up a book because they want to know what happens. Nobody except the person with their head so far up their ass they can see the sun out their own mouth is picking up a piece of media to just see what the writer’s intent was—unless they’re doing an academic course, I guess. Generally, however, if a book or other piece of media is boring as sin and the reader or watcher doesn’t want to see what happens next… they’re going to put it down and not come back. Yes, style is important, and yes, authorial intent and all the rest is important too—but those things are not exclusive to the realm of literature, and they are there in video games, too.

The real point of this, however, is that the author of this course seems to believe that video games are a form of media that can never reach the heights of literature, even children’s literature. Not so. Video games are a very new medium as opposed to any other media that’s current, save for internet content, which is a baby medium even compared to video games. This means that video games are still going through the kind of growth that children’s literature went through, albeit slightly more accelerated given just how many games are pumped out per year.

When literary works for children were first introduced in medieval times, and pretty much up until the eighteenth century, they were intended merely to educate and instruct. These books tended to be directed towards literate young boys, especially in the earliest ones, and were often Christian in nature, urging young lads to follow God’s word lest they be punished in the fires of hell. As such, children’s literature didn’t really exist as we think of it today, and kids were more prone to reading whatever interesting adventure stories or tales they could get their hands on, such as Aesop’s Fables or Robinson Crusoe. These stories were never intended to be read solely by children, but rather intended for an adult audience first. However, given that they weren’t objectionable by nature, kids devoured them because of their adventurous content, and loved that these stories were fantastical and jogged their imagination.

It wasn’t until the mid-eighteenth century and John Newbery’s printing company exclusively for children’s literature that kids finally had books to call their own that weren’t just moralistic or educational. While Newbery wasn’t doing it out of some saint-like desire to provide books to children, but for monetary gain, it allowed authors who really did feel like they wanted to write books directed at children that were just for fun to finally have some precedent for their publishing. I could go on from here, but suffice to say that by Victorian times, children’s literature had finally become a full-blown genre of its own. No longer were children forced to read books that could be dry and dull, or books that weren’t really meant for them. Instead, they had books that were all their own, with stories they could relate to and sink their teeth into.

Like I said, though, video games are still new media. Kid gamers haven’t yet had their own John Newbery, but there have been companies and solo developers that have tried. During the 70s, when gaming was the hot new thing, kids’ games didn’t really exist. Everyone played Pong and its ilk, and the educational games on the Magnavox Odyssey were the closest things to kids’ games that existed at the time. Again, a pattern begins to emerge, as we see that the earliest video games either weren’t directed at children, or were mere educational games, intended to serve as teaching tools and nothing more. However, when the video game crash happened and Atari was taken down, Nintendo rose from the ashes in North America to become a video game juggernaut that still exists today. While much of their marketing was directed at kids, with ROB selling the Nintendo Entertainment System as a toy rather than the dreaded ‘video game console’, most of Nintendo’s games weren’t directed solely at children either. The developers who focused on kids in the NES days, again, were primarily educational developers, making games like Mario is Missing! that used famous characters to try and teach kids everything from geography to counting.

The PC and home computer market wasn’t much better, though this is where things begin to get interesting. While console gaming soon almost entirely dropped games directed at children, save for a few titles that were mostly tie-ins to existing children’s properties and sold on name brand alone, even if they weren’t very good, computer gaming was more concerned with appealing to children. Given that home computers were sold as devices that were meant for the whole family to use, of course kids were gunning to play games on their new computers. When the multimedia and CD revolution happened in the 1990s, several big companies rose to the top of educational software, as well as true games for children that were not intended to teach, except as a good side effect. Let’s talk about a few of those now.

Knowledge Adventure, Broderbund, and The Learning Company were three game studios that primarily focused on educational games for children. However, each of these companies tried their best to make learning fun instead of dull, like most educational games had been beforehand. One look at KA’s Jumpstart series, or Broderbund’s Living Books, or TLC’s Reader Rabbit, and it’s hard to argue that these games aren’t fun as well as educational. As a kid, I played all three of these series, and while each of them was arguably intended to educate as well as entertain, I hardly noticed. I was having too much fun learning fractions by measuring out ingredients in Jumpstart 2nd Grade, or reading about D.W. The Picky Eater, or trying to find the Math Magician in Interactive Math Journey.

However, the reigning king of children’s software in the 90s and early 00s was undoubtedly the late, great Humongous Entertainment. Their business model was to create point-and-click adventure games for kids, games that educated on the periphery, but were primarily intended to entertain. Putt-Putt, Freddi Fish, Pajama Sam, and Spy Fox have become icons of children’s media from this time period, and each of them is fondly remembered by kids of my generation because of how fun these games were. Sure, they didn’t tell very complex stories, but the down-to-earth problems of Pajama Sam, the detective antics of Freddi Fish and Spy Fox, and the kooky adventures of Putt-Putt and the one-hit-wonder Fatty Bear were all relatable for kids, and took place in worlds that children wanted to explore and visit over and over again. These games had an art style that was instantly recognizable, with animation often rivaling the cartoons of the time, or at least comparable to them. Thankfully, they’ve been rereleased on mobile devices and on Good Old Games and Steam—they haven’t been lost to time.

Still, after Humongous’ dissolution, no companies have come up to take the reins of kid game developer. While kids have been playing games intended for everyone, or even games intended for adults, games directed primarily at kids that aren’t educational have become few and far between again. The 90s had a glimmer of hope that we might get the Newbery of kids’ games, but that glimmer was shattered when Humongous went down. With independent developers and the continued presence of companies such as Nintendo that are willing to publish games for just about anyone, however, it’s pretty much only a matter of time until entertaining kids’ games can take their place neatly in the pantheon of video games.

So what am I trying to say with this whole thing? I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to dissolve the idea that games are a less important form of media than anything else. Just because they’re new, doesn’t mean that they have no merit. They haven’t had the time to grow like most new media has, and especially in the department of entertaining children, they’re lacking. I say that given a few years—maybe a few decades—we’ll see the Newbery of gaming rise, and children will finally get games of their own that adults want to play too.

Also that that quote is still crap. I’m not going to let that go ever.

[cidolfus-a-trahan]

The very first MonsterClash!

As part of the kick off for my yearly series of horror reviews on my Youtube channel, I dug up the very first review I ever wrote, which was a comparison of the 1931 Universal film Dracula with the 1992 Francis Ford Coppola Version.

Since the video, which you can see here references this article, I had decided to post the full text here rather than link to the original Facebook page that hosted it.

Be warned, this was written long before I started writing film reviews in earnest and has not aged particularly well.

Without further ado, here is the very first edition of MonsterClash

Romney’s Reviews “Reviews I’d want to film but am unable to.” #1: Bram Stoker’s Dracula 1931 vs. 1992

Dracula, his name is known the world over. Many images come to mind when it is uttered. Starting out as a fictitious character in the novel by the Irish author, Abraham “Bram” Stoker, in 1897, this icon of gothic horror has appeared in everything from movies, to television, to even video games among other things. Even the original story itself has been adapted numerous times as stage plays, movies, and games. Now I know what you’re probably thinking, what about Vlad Țepeș? Contrary to popular belief, this Romanian prince was not the direct inspiration for Dracula. According to his working notes, Stoker had the basic outline of the story already layed out before tying in the stories of Vlad the Impaler. Many scholars believe that this is more of an afterthought, but I digress.

What I am here to talk to you about are the two most well know adaptations of the famous novel. The first version being the 1931 version of Dracula directed by Tod Browning and starring Bela Lugosi as the titular villain, and the 1992 version, directed by Francis Ford Coppola and starring Gary Oldman in the role of Dracula. Both versions have been praised by fans and critics alike. Having now seen both versions, this review shall compare the two, seeing what each one has over the other. From here on in, it shall be category based, so let’s not waste anymore time.

The first category, or round, shall be: Atmosphere

One of the major facets of any horror film is the world it creates and how it pulls you in. This category shall go into the details of setting, sound design, and to a lesser extent music.

1931 version: The settings of this film evoke the imagery we always see when we think of horror films. It shows the quaintness of the Transylvanian village, the eeriness of Castle Dracula and the various undercrofts depicted. The gothic sets are extremely well done, although simple by today’s standards, capture the gothic atmosphere that was most likely what Bram Stoker had pictured. The sound design in this film is minimal at best, more of the focus put on the dialogue. There are a few audio cues inserted here and there, but only to really announce the arrival of Dracula. In the case of music, the version I watched was the version with the added score by Philip Glass, however, I managed to see what I could of the original version. In the original version, the only music in the film served as overture and concluding themes as well as a few diegetic pieces for the music box and the scene at the symphony. In the version with the Philip Glass score, the music overpowers certain parts of dialogue and detracts a little bit from the atmosphere of the film. I don’t know if it’s always the case with this version, but on the DVD I watched it on, the music was too loud and got a little irritating. To me, it seemed as if it was composed more for a silent film.

1992 version: The settings in this film are on the same level as the 1931 version, but Coppola didn’t hesitate to use many colorful elements as part of the sets. However, as it can be seen in both the film and the interviews with the costume designer, Coppola used the principle of “the costumes are the sets”. He uses color to differentiate the different settings, a grim black for Transylvania and a shade of gray for London, and more extravagant colors to express the characters’ personalities. The sound design is a lot more atmospheric and really draws you into the world. However, it is important to note that sound design was on a different level of priority at the dawn of the talking motion picture, but the effort is an added bonus. The music in this film is more present, with the amount of diegetic music greatly reduced. The score of this film functions in the same manner that a film score is usually employed, so there is not much else to say.

Victory Tally

Setting: Tie

Sound: 1992 version

Music: 1992 version

Conclusion: 1992 Version, the atmosphere of this film is a little more complete and is a little bit easier to be drawn into.

Round 2: Cinematography

Where would film be without the camera? Last time I checked, there hasn’t been any film made without a camera, thus the name of the medium, FILM. (Even animation uses cameras people.)

1931 version: The cinematography of this film is what makes some of the moments of this film classic. It shows the grandiose and derelict nature of Castle Dracula, making the halls and undercrofts look even emptier. When you remove the Phillip Glass score, a lot of the shots create the eerie atmosphere we associate Dracula with today. This was what made the film terrifying to most people in its initial run. One of my favorite scenes in this film is the standoff between Van Helsing and Dracula. The shots are simplistic, but in the same fashion as the silent film, the picture is worth a thousand words. The rest of the film is filled with moments like this, again more effective without Philip Glass’s score.

1992 version: You can tell that this film pays homage to the rich film history that Dracula is associated with, at one point even being shot with an old camera, changing the type of film mid- scene from black and white to two color Technicolor and then finally to full color. Everything in this film is shot in a style that is reminiscent of all of the classic horror films, but Coppola also puts his own style into the film with some of the more artistic shots. It achieves it’s eeriness in a completely different way that doesn’t rely entirely on the cinematography, which can be considered either a plus or a minus, depending on which school of thought you come from.

Victory Tally

IT’S A TIE! The Coppola version wouldn’t be there without the standards set by its predecessors.

Round 3: Characters

What’s a story without characters? Not a story, that’s what. They don’t always need to be human, but there are always characters. This round comes in two parts; I don’t feel that need to explain why.

Part 1: Dracula

1931 version: Even though there were versions before this version, the earliest surviving example being Murnau’s Nosferatu, Bela Lugosi’s performance set the standard for how Dracula is portrayed in many other forms of media. A fact that is only known amongst the more hardcore film buffs is that Lugosi got the role because of his performance in the Dracula Broadway play, so he was already adept at his performance when they began performing screen tests at Universal. In addition to his earnest performance, Lugosi had a look that was both alluring and terrifying, reflecting the hypnotic effect a vampire is known to have on people.

1992 version: The way Gary Oldman portrayed Dracula captured both the terrifying elements as well as more of the romantic elements that were brought to the character in the 1979 remake made by Universal. However, some of the terrifying elements were aided by the make-up, cinematography, and the other atmospheric elements. However, when it came to the romantic elements of the character, that is where, in my opinion, Gary Oldman is at his strongest. It may not have been on the same level as Lugosi, but Oldman gave a performance that create another original form of Dracula that has also translated to other media, as well as indirectly serve as inspiration for some “other” vampire lore.

Part 2: The Other Characters

1931 version: The cast of characters is greatly reduced in this version from the original novel, mainly Arthur Holmwood and Quincy Morris are omitted. The dynamic between characters is also changed. For example, the love affairs of Lucy Westerna (changed to Western in this version) are also omitted. Dr. Jack Seward’s character is aged to the same age as Professor Van Helsing and is the father of Mina in this version. Instead of Harker visiting Dracula in the beginning, it’s Renfield who delivers the deed to the Count, the incidents that took place at the castle being the explanation for his madness. The characters that are focused on in this film are Dracula, Van Helsing, and Mina. I say this because they are the only ones who have any real character development. Harker looks as if he was put in just as the love interest and potential victim of Mina, therefore, he has little to no personality in this version. The insanity of Renfield is done incredibly well in this version, capturing the split personality and schizophrenic elements of the character. The suave and intelligent nature of Van Helsing is captured beautifully, making for a character who is almost a badass. The innocence of Mina is a typical female archetype, so it’s not something someone can do wrong unless they try REALLY hard.

1992 version: The characters in this version are a little better developed. In this version, Quincy and Holmwood are present and play a great role in the story. All of the characters in this film have an equal role and are a little closer to the personality of the characters in the original novel. Now the believability of some the characters is thrown in to question, mainly with Harker, played by Keanu Reeves. To his credit, he did give a decent performance, but I had trouble taking his accent seriously at certain points. Mina and Lucy are given more of a personality in this version. Lucy is seen as the flirtatious romantic, toying with her three suitors the way many women do today. Mina is seen as a more headstrong character that has her weaknesses that she tries to keep hidden. Renfield’s madness is on the same level as the Renfield of the 1931 version, but is given more animalistic traits. Van Helsing’s more quirky traits are more apparent and Seward’s ambitious nature shines through in this film. Despite the casting choice, Harker is given more personality in this film and is seen more as the guy who’s in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Victory Tally

Dracula: IT’S A TIE! (This is turning into Telos* people, be very afraid.) The winner can’t be decided because it’s two entirely different schools of thought at work here. It’s a case of classic vs. contemporary. I leave this decision to you.

Everyone else: 1992 version. These characters are a little more fleshed out and developed. They have more personality and make the film feel a little more complete.

Round 3: Story

The purpose of film is to tell a story, whether realistic or fantastic. So let’s take a look at the overall story of both films.

1931 version: The story of this version is a simplified version of the story from the novel. As a result, this gives off the same air as an adaptation of Greek mythology like the original Clash of the Titans. Things are kept simple and treated like a stage play. The pacing of the story does feel a bit rushed at times, with some unexplainable transitions put in to keep things moving. To me, it feels a bit like the cliff notes version of Dracula.

1992 version: This version is a little more complex than the 1931 version and has more events happen overall. The pacing of this is steadier, nothing feels rushed nor dragged on. Now the fact that so much happens may feel a bit stymieing, but it’s not like so much is packed in that it leaves the viewer confused. This seems like a more detailed version of a mythological adaptation that adds subtle nuances here and there to make a more realistic world.

Victory Tally

IT’S A TIE! That’s mainly because it depends on how you want to see the plot. If you want a simple, more mythic version, the 1931 version is a good place to start. If you want something a little more detailed, then the 1992 version may be more up your alley.

Round 4: Faithfulness to the source material

This is a common case of argument for and against a movie based on a book. This round is to show which one is more faithful to the original novel by Bram Stoker.

1931 version: This version has minor deviations throughout. I’ve already mentioned the omission of Quincy and Holmwood as well as the replacement of Harker in the opening scene with Renfield. The climax itself is also different, with only Van Helsing killing Dracula in the undercroft of Carfax Abbey instead of the full party of Harker, Van Helsing, Quincy, Holmwood, Seward, and Mina slaying him back in Transylvania. The other deviations are mainly character based while the main heart of the story, that of a demon terrorizing the civilized world, is kept intact.

1992 version: A good friend of mine put it best with this sentence. “It’s the truest to the novel, but it makes the biggest departure.” It stays incredibly true to the novel, but it’s large departure is the romance between Mina and Dracula, this involves a subplot about Dracula’s lover from when he was alive, Elisabetha, looking exactly like Mina. This was probably added to make Dracula a little more sympathetic, but people tend to be divided about this, especially in recent years with “certain” iterations of vampire lore.

Final Round: Overall

Both films are noteworthy in their own right, but which film is the definitive version of the tale? Looking at the tally so far, although it is close, there can be only one winner.

WINNER

1992

Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Directed by Francis Ford Coppola

Starring

Gary Oldman

Keanu Reeves

Winona Ryder

And

Anthony Hopkins

The 1931 is a classic, but the 1992 version is the more complete film. If you are in the mood for a poetic form of gothic horror, then this is the version for you. I still highly recommend the 1931 version of Dracula since it’s a classic and gives you a great insight into the evolution of the vampire in fiction. This version is also great to watch if you have kids watching with you, while the 1992 version is better enjoyed with a more adult audience.

Well, I hope you have enjoyed this review. We conclude, I shall impart on you the remaining words of a lost speech, given by Edward Van Sloan, the actor who played Professor Van Helsing, after a screening of the 1931 film in its initial run.

“Just a moment, ladies and gentleman…just a word before you go. We hope the memories of Dracula won’t give you bad dreams, so just a word of reassurance. When you get home tonight and the lights are turned out…and you’re afraid to look behind the curtains…and you dread to see a face at the window….well, just pull yourself together and remember, after all… there are such things as VAMPIRES!”

Thanks for reading, and Happy Halloween.

*Telos is an awards show where the students of my high school would submit short films to be judged by outside parties that had film experience. During this particular year, a number of films had tied with one another across multiple categories, so much so that it became a running joke throughout the awards show.