#like it went from analog horror to a full-on anime

[mr-hammer-exe]

"Rougher than the rest of 'em."

[srslysierraa]

if i could have a they/you wake you/them up at 3 in the morning to do *insert activity* with kamaboko boys!

(ex for activity. monoploy baking cookies, makeup, strange things yet cute this to do with s/o at 3 am)

03:01 AM

prompt ;; waking up in itself is a pain, especially waking up early. But when you see those gorgeous eyes of your lover, obviously bored to death, and silently begging for your attention. Suddenly the thought of baking a cake at 3AM doesn't sound too bad.

type ;; fluff. [headcanons]

chars. involved ;; tanjiro | zenitsu | inosuke

a/n ;; THIS IS SO CUTE, I'm a heavy sleeper, and being waken up for whatever reason IRKS ME to death. But the thought of Zenitsu asking me to spend time with him in the middle of the night??? Yes please. Also, I'd imagine this is modern AU? Please enjoy!

T.ANJIRO KAMADO

He couldn't really sleep, for whatever reason.

And he wanted to do something to actually help him sleep instead of just laying down and tossing around.

He DID thought of waking you up but-

Do you really think he'll have the heart to wake you, his darling, up just because he couldn't sleep?

ESPECIALLY AT 3AM?? Nah, my man's a gentleman he's not gonna do that.

So instead he decided to just go watch a movie on his phone, next to you, with no earphones in.

The opening loud ass music startled both you- and him. In which he didn't know that his volume was full.

He apologize profusely when you woke up, realizing that he's not asleep yet.

"(Y/N)-! I'm so sorry- i didn't know that it was going to be this loud! Please, go back to sleep."

"..why are you still awake? What happened?"

He'll explain that he couldn't sleep and is trying to make himself fall asleep with a movie, or at least to tire him out, while also constantly trying to get you back to dreamland. Purely because he'll feel bad if you had to wake up because of him.

Well sucks for him because that's exactly what you're going to do.

You slowly sit up, telling him that you also want to watch the movie with him.

After a few back and forth of trying to tell him that, yes it is okay for you to stay awake for him, he'll let you.

But what's movie night without popcorn and soda, right?

You'll ask him to accompany you to the kitchen because it's 3AM and for some reason he chose to watch a horror movie, just to get a few snacks and drinks.

Putting on music while waiting for the microwave to finish cooking up your popcorn, all the while talking about what you just dreamed about. Or what to do when the sun comes up.

And when you're done, you'll go back to your room with him. Turning on the movie on the TV instead as you two cuddled close, leaning against eachother and hands perhaps touching once or twice when you two tried to reach the popcorn bowl in unison.

If you're scared of jumpscares, he'll purposely pull you closer, as if to shield you. If not, you two would just talk about what you would've done in the movie's situation.

If you can't stand horror, he'll change the movie. What do you want to watch? Action? Thriller? Fantasy? Anime? The same movie or series you've been rewatching 34 times? He'll happily put it on.

And when morning comes? He'll be the one yawning, since he didn't actually get any sleep. He'll try to stay awake, but fall asleep on your shoulder instead. And you can't help but admire his peacefulness as you slowly put his head on a pillow, cleaning the room of all the empty bottles, wrappings, and bowls.

But if you prefer to just stay and sleep in his arms, that's fine too! He'll hold you close, and snuggle closer.

Eitherway it ends up with him kissing you on your forehead as soon as he wakes up, so i say this is a win.

Z.ENITSU AGATSUMA

I feel like he's the type of person that'll say something like 'one more video' when on YouTube and then stay up till morning. LMAO.

He'll be watching random cat videos, or like those "which one is actually cake?!" videos and would try to guess along but guesses wrong on almost each one.

How he went from analog horror to gameplays to asmr to cosplays to "how to survive" to cake videos? No one knows.

All he knew was this is entertaining and he keeps trying to stop but fails miserably thanks to YouTube's goddamn recommendation page.

But then of course, right as the clock strikes 3AM, he just had to see that one video.

"Hyper-Realistic Shoe Cake Tutorial!"

He needs to make it, okay? For scientific purposes.

But he still wants to stay beside you.. and he's not that good at baking as he is cooking-

And all that leads to this one moment.

"Wha- Zenitsu..? It's 3 AM.. what is it?"

"(Y/n)-chan!! Can- can we bake a cake together? Unlessyou'dprefertosleepthenthat'sokaytoo-"

"Bake a cake? What cake? Is it someone's birthday tomorrow?"

"Well, no, but— i found this cool tutorial on how to bake a cake and make it look like an actual shoe!"

You stayed silent, trying to comprehend what he had to say. You'd be lying if you say you don't find him adorable, but like.. really?

"Wh- babe, you woke me up at 3AM because you wanna bake a cake that looks like a shoe?"

"...sorry."

...And now you can't even get mad.

"Goddammit, we're baking that shoe cake right now." "I know, I'm so- wait, huh?"

You spent the rest few hours getting confused because like- you don't have a few of the CRUCIAL ingredients in order to make it look realistic. So you kinda just made your own version of it based on the limited baking knowledge you know, trying to get it as close as the tutorial as possible.

The process was.. cute, to say the least. There was a time where the flour accidentally spilled out, which resulted in you becoming a sneezing mess due to the powdery bits in the air.

Zenitsu insisting he'll clean for you, and you telling him to not bother.

Not to mention when he tried to split the egg white from the yolk, failed miserably.

You two purposely putting on socks so you can slide across the kitchen floor thanks to the flour that fell, while waiting for the cake to be done baking.

Him accidentally messing up his own cake by cutting certain parts too small or thin, and you boasting about how good yours turned out.

Putting on sappy love songs as the sun rises, taking photos of the cake while trying to hide the mess you two made in the kitchen, and uploading it online.

His smile was arguably brighter than the shade of his hair, even the rising dawn couldn't match Zenitsu's grin as he looks at the results.

Not to mention the cleaning montage of you two trying to fix the kitchen after the absolute mess.

Of course, you'll be spending the rest of the day napping in his arms till evening, but you've been productive enough to make up for it, right?

I.NOSUKE HASHIBIRA

Now, this man..

He will wake you up, unapologetically.

You'll be dreaming of your perfect life, feeling all nice and cozy as the night changes.

And then he'll just scream next to your ear.

"(Y/NNNNNNNN)!"

You almost had a heart attack with how he woke you up, looking up to see a pair of emerald eyes staring down at you.

"WHAT? WHAT IS IT?"

"I'M HUNGRY!"

An exaggerated sigh left your lips, and you almost told him to go make food himself.

But then you remember that time he almost burned down the house, so.

With no other choice, you got up, an excited Inosuke running out to go sit on the couch.

But you're not gonna cook anything, not when it's 3AM, so guess who's getting a McDonald's delivery soon?

And while waiting, you two decided to play a few rounds of video games. Making him promise that this'll go on until the food arrived and then he'll go back to sleep.

Spoiler. That didn't happen.

You two had too much fun roasting eachother at how bad you guys are at games, and Inosuke is particularly funny when raging while playing Fall Guys.

He also scared you on purpose a few times when you were taking turns playing Phasmophobia, laughing hysterically everytime you screamed in fear.

Or even something like FNAF, or games like Valorant, Overwatch or even Call of Duty. He loves competitive games so.

Seeing him happily jump whenever he wins something warms your heart, and though he wouldn't admit it, but the way he also jumps in victory whenever you kill someone in game is enough proof for you to know that he feels the same.

And when someone makes fun of you for sucking at the game?? He'll honestly would just ask you for the controller, ready to destroy the mf as he suddenly dominates the whole round. Before giving it back to you when he feels satisfied.

He'd randomly open his mouth while playing, asking to be fed a french fry as he focuses on the game. You being as invested as he is, just does it because you kinda also want him to win-

Also the way he'll put his arm around your shoulders, guiding you on what to do to win, well more like screaming at you- but only because he's too excited and loud for his own good. He loves you though, which is why he wants people to know that his (s/o) doesn't suck 💪🏻.

And when morning comes? That's when it hit you that gODDAMMIT YOU DIDN'T GET TO SLEEP.

But you know, maybe it's fine, you two did have an awesome night?

Especially with the amount of compliments he gives you whenever you win a game, all those "HELL YEAH, DESTROY THEM" "LET'S GO THAT'S MY (Y/N)!" "DIE ASSHOLE! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY TO MY (S/O)!"

You're sure your neighbors would complain sooner or later, but you don't really mind.

In fact, you'd happily do this with him again.

[themadauthorshatter]

... This is going to be more triggering than my Sanders Sides Beetlejuice AU, and I deeply apologize.

This is a Happy Tree Friends story I've thought about and it got inspired by a scene in the Asylum season of American Horror Story.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR PTSD, AVERSION THERAPY, FORCED/DELIBERATE TRIGGERING OF PTSD AND HALLUCINATIONS, ISOLATION, BEING HELD CAPTIVE/HOSTAGE, ANIMAL DEATH, AND A LOT OF OTHER THINGS!!!!

PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!

Additional note: I'm visualizing the characters as human, so don'tbe caught off guard when I bring up a character's hair or complexion. It makes this story easier for me to picture in my head, that's just how I work. And this is mostly TV perspective, so thought I'd tell you that, too.

We begin with the sun rising and a new day starting, how lovely. No one is fully awake, but two people are and they are having a race.

Who's against who?

Simple.

It's Flippy on his feet and Splendid in the air to see who's faster on which and they're neck and neck in this.

Flippy sees Splendid next to him and asks if he's holding back, because this is not the fastest Flippy can run.

Splendid jokes that maybe it is because this is the SLOWEST he's flown in a long time.

Flippy laughs and kicks it into maximum overdrive, full on sprinting as fast as he can, even faking a turn to throw Splendid off his flight. While he stays on his intended path, and shouts that Splendid fell for it, Splendid calls him a cheating bastard.

Flippy laughs and contunues sprinting until he stops on a sidewalk in the town.

How lovely because Splendid is sitting on the wood of one of the telephone poles and waves at him.

Flippy pants and asks how Splendid both beat him and got up there.

Splendid simply floats down and claims it's just a hop, skip, and leap of faith.

And no cheating, which he points out.

Flippy clarifies that he actually DID NOT cheat. He would've gotten some of kryptonut and put it in his pocket, if he really wanted to.

Splendid gasps that he wouldn't, but Flippy shrugs and says he knows a guy, so don't tempt him.

The two share a laugh, but Flippy freezes as he hears a nearby woodpecker.

Splendid spots it and comments on the lovely avian specimen.

That's when a knife is thrown and (TV perspective) off screen kills the bird.

Splendid sees Flippy threw it and has 'killer instinct' eyes.

Thank goodness it's just them and there's no one else around because just as Flippy readies another knife, Splendid grabs him and flies to a hill, fast enough to get there within a minute or so, but not so fast that Flippy dies from the velocity.

It snowed a little bit, but it's enough for Splendid to toss Flippy into.

The cold instantly snaps him out of it and Flippy quickly looks around and asks where they are.

Splendid shrugs and answers the hill, and the realization sets in as Flippy's face drops, groaning and putting his hands over his face.

Splendid sits next to him as Flippy asks if 'it' happened again.

It did, but there was no one outside, so at least it got stopped before anyone got hurt.

Flippy is still crestfallen and rests his head on his arms, which are on his knees.

Splendid asks if he really can't control when he flips out, and Flippy confirms that as much as he can, but he still can't, mainly because when he feels like there's nothing to worry about, he remembers how he got comfortable and confident before and it ruined everything.

And he can't control the world or what randomly happens.

If his instincts say he's in danger, he's using thise same instuncts to keep himself safe.

Splendid digests those words as Flippy takes a breath and stands up, thanking him for the race and apologizes for talking his ear off and snapping on him.

Splendid stands as well and asks if Flippy needs help getting home, to which Flippy politely declines, not wanting to beat Splendid in another race. Splendid narrows his eyes and dares Flippy to repeat that, but Flippy chuckles and says he'll see him around before leaving.

Splendid watches him go and gets to thinking. He and Flippy have been friends for a while, and this stuff with flipping out and all that has been bothering him for a long time. He'd also been informed that Flippy went to Lumpy for help, but it failed miserably, so he was left to deal with it using the medicine he'd been prescribed. Beyond that, nothing seems to have helped him.

He also remembers how he had once had a doctor friend that helped people with addiction and talked with him about how some people aren't addicted to substances, but to feelings or emotions, as a comfort thing.

We don't get any more thoughts because we return to Flippy as he lets himself inside and leans against the door, very much upset with the fact that he lost it in front of one of his friends, especially one loke Splendid, who he rarely flips out on.

And it doesn't help that he hasn't lost it in a very long time.

Because his instincts are going haywire and he just needs to know HOW bad his episodes get, Flippy gets up, grabs a couple party poppers that were left over from a party he was fashionably late to(he had to do a check-in/catch up call with one of his army higher ups so they knew he was okay), and goes down to a basement, one that has a hatch door in the floor rather than a regular door.

He locks it behind him and goes down to a fully concrete basement that has holes and scratches in the concrete, because he's strong.

Here's where that deliberate triggering of trauma and an additional blackout Trigger Warnings come in, because Flippy sets up a camera, that's recoeding, takes one of the party poppers, and squeezes his eyes shut as he pulls the string and sets it off.

Flippy instantly starts seeing that he's back on the battlefield and not in his own basement, and hyperventilates as he sees an enemy standing over him, smirking and gun ready.

Flippy stares up at this enemy, but that fear melts into anger and throws himself into his enemy, landing next to a gun, which he uses to take this enemy out.

No time to relax because he gets grazed by another enemy soldier.

He smiles and chuckles, readying the gun and a knife from his leg before he races forward.

We don't see anything happen, save for black, but we fade to see Flippy coming to on the floor, sweaty, bruised, and knuckles bloody.

He groans and pushes himself up, rubbing his head for a minute before he finally looks around the basement.

The walls and floor are worse than before, but at least the camera is still intake.

Flippy gets up and stops the camera, sitting down as he reminds it back until plays it.

There's no battlefield, no enemies, no threats at all. In the video, Flippy pops the party popper, and clutches his head as he curls into the ground.

He hyperventilates and looks up backing away from someone that isn't even there. At least before he throws himself into the wall a makes a small shelf of knives fall. He mimes shooting the person before grabbing numerous knives and racing toward and hitting the wall and stabbing the wall, even punching and kicking it.

That explains the busted knuckles and bruises.

We don't see the rest of the video, but we do see Flippy's face grow more distressed and upset as he keeps watching himself fight nothing and just beat himself instead.

It is not easy to watch at all.

The video eventually ends with Flippy passing out on the floor, where we caught up with him.

Flippy puts the camera away and leans against the wall.

Guess he's a lot worse than he thought.

He sighs and rests his head against his knees.

Guess he's not leaving the house today either.

Time jump to a week or so later!

It's bright and sunny, and we're checking in on Flaky now as she struggles with some groceries; it originally started as a trip for shampoo and a new toothbrush, but it became a food run as well because she got hungry. She can't really see where she's going, but is trying her best, okay?

Carrying five bags at once a was huge mistake because she trips on a rock and almost falls down.

Almost, because Flippy catches her and helps her back to her feet.

Flaky shrieks and asks who it is.

Flippy decides to mess with her and lowers his voice, asking for either a hello or her life.

Flaky gasps and says he'll get a shoe to his shin, if he doesn't watch himself.

Flippy chuckles and asks if she skipped breakfast again, seeing all the bags she has. Flaky, turning to look at him, corrects him: she DID eat breakfast, but lunch was calling and she couldn't leave it on voice-mail.

Flippy, following along with the analogy, takes a bag or two and advices she try to learn how to BLOCK those calls when they drain her wallet.

Flaky hums, but thanks him for helping, and for the wallet he got her; it's sleek, but holds a lot of money and cards. Or card, which Flippy mutters as they walk to Flaky's house.

Flaky kicks at him, but they half walk, half run to Flaky's house. Once they arrive, Flaky thanks him again for the help and says she'll have a potatoe, butcher beef, apple soup/curry waiting for him next time he comes over.

Flippy chuckles and agrees, countering he'll bring her a cake SMOTHERED in sugar, cubes, chunks, powered, candy, caramel, all that garbage so that her teeth fall out and he can help her get METAL teeth instead.

Flaky sets down her groceries and stamps her foot, saying Flippy is not her father.

They still hug each other and Flippy leaves, telling her to take care of herself.

He continues on his walk and pays attention to the birds that are singing and wind blowing through the trees.

No time to fully appreciate it because Splendid turns a corner and Flippy waves him over, much to the superhero's delight.

They quickly touch in and ask how the other has been before Flippy interests Splendid for another race, 'the only rule is win' edition.

Splendid has a better idea: coffee. He had just finished some errands and was on his way home when he and Flippy ran into each other.

The invite seems iffy, but Flippy accepts, not wanting to run off like last time.

They walk and Splendid's smile drops a little, which draws Flippy's attention, the ex-soldier asking if everything's okay.

Splendid nods, saying everything's fine. He's just had some stuff on his mind that he can talk about when they get to his house.

Flippy stops for a second and watches Splendid continue walking, following behind more cautiously.

Cut to Splendid's house as the superhero fixes himself and his guest some coffee, though Flippy is slow to drink his because it doesn't smell like black coffee.

When asked, Splendid explains that the grounds were a little stale. He'd bought some that was fresh, but didn't want the old stuff to go to waste.

It calms Flippy enough for him to take a drink of coffee. He also asks what's been eating at Splendid, even apologizing for leaving him hanging last week.

Splendid shakes his head. Water under the bridge, everyone has their moments.

Speaking of moments, Splanedid asks if Flippy's been better since their race.

He shrugs, admitting that he's had worse happen, but that still doesn't make it good or even okay.

Splendid asks if he's ever gotten help for his 'issues' and Flippy asks back if he thinks Lumpy is really as good at everything as he thinks. Splendid supposes not, all things considered.

Done with the interview, and taking a drink of more coffee, because he's tired, Flippy asks what Splendid's deal REALLY is, and why he's so interested in Flippy's personal issues.

Splendid gives it to him straight: he's noticed that Flippy's trauma is bothering him on a pretty big level, and it has him worried for his friend, not because he can hurt people, but because he's seeing how unhappy Flippy is, and how much it tolls on him. He's had SOME experience with people who've had similar problems to Flippy's and there's a sort of therapy that's helped them. Granted, he knows Flippy doesn't enjoy flipping out, but, in a sick sense, his mind and body do. And there's a way to trick his mind into pushing his instincts away and leaving him with a normal life.

Flippy keeps his head propped up on an arm and finishes his coffee, so tired that he's barely listening and is instead asking for a fresh mug, because he doesn't understand either.

Splendid only takes his empty mug and suggests he's probably had enough coffee; he'll be up all night, if he drinks more than one cup and, as he's already said, Lumpy is a terrible doctor and will say he's about to die and overlook that he's just high of caffeine.

Flippy laughs and shakes his head, asking if Splendid is a better doctor and scoffing that he can take Lumpy.

He stops laughing when he sees that Splendid is straight faced and looks a little apologetic.

Yeah. Heavily delayed, 'oh shit!' moment for Flippy, who now realizes that there was something IN his coffee; he knows what stale coffee tastes like because he once suffered through a month of the stuff.

And he can't flip out on Splendid because he's too tired, so he's left to try running for the door.

That fails, too, so he can only pull and push himself away from Splendid, who apologizes for lying and for making Flippy go into such a panic, all the same he's just trying to help him and hopes he both forgives him and understands where he's coming from.

Flippy only keeps trying to get away, weakly telling Splendid to stay away from him.

From Flippy's blurry and world-spinny eyes, Splendid is the General from the Tiger Bomb mission, said General kneeling in front of him and smirking as Flippy knocks out with a sigh/groan.

Flippy doesn't wake up until MUCH later. He's got a splitting headache and, upon seeing all of the white-ish walls around him, sighs that he really must've fucked himself up when he set off that party popper, rubbing his head as he does so.

That's when he notices the handcuff and chain on his wrist, one that keeps him chained to one of the walls. He checks his other hand and sees that there's an identical handcuff on his wrist, also connecting him to the wall.

Not a dream.

Before Flippy can lose it, he sees a door open and Splendid walk in, looking very sheepish despite being the stronger of the two at the moment.

Before he can get any words out, Flippy charges toward him, at least until he's stopped by the chains.

It still makes Splendid jump back; powers be damned, if Flippy's mad at you, your days are numbered.

Splendid, from his place against the opposite wall, asks quite stupidly if Flippy's mad.

No. He's not mad at all. He's having the best damn day of his life, thank you for asking.

Sarcasm. All sarcasm that Splendid misses and is relieved by.

That relief vanished when Flippy charges again, pulling the handcuffs enough to make himself bleed.

Flippy demands to know what the hell is going on and why he's handcuffed in a padded cell.

When Flippy starts pulling a little too hard, like he's pulling hard enough to dent the chain links out of place, Splendid acts fast and aims a spray bottle at Flippy, and sprays water on him.

When Flippy backs down, Splendid repeats what he said upstairs, especially apologizing for not explaining how he was going to help him.

Flippy banks up, stands down, and sits down criss-crossstyle, which makes Splendid let out a sigh of relief, following his friend so they're sitting across from each other.

Flippy asks what EXACTLY Splendid was thinking when he drugged Flippy's coffee and then took Flippy to a loaded cell in his basement.

Splendid explains that he was just thinking and didn't regard what would have happened, even admitting that drugging the coffee wasn't his best or first plan; somehow sneaking up behind him with a nasty was, but that seemed insulting to Flippy's skills, so he thought about just working him out with races and exercise until Flippy passed out. That seemed like the most painful option, and the most tiring because wherever Flippy would fall would be unpredictable, so he just went south putting something in his coffee so he'd go unconscious for a little while.

Flippy takes all of this in and asks why Splendid didn't just ASK him to try this treatment he was babbling about earlier and Splendid admits that it's used for addicts to help them stop using whatever substance they're on. It's a pretty brutal technique, but it has worked.

The brutal part has Flippy concerned, so he asks what that means.

Splendid stops beating around the brush: aversion therapy. Using old war footage and medicine to make Flippy not want to go on a rampage whenever he gets triggeres.

Flippy stares at Splendid for a minute before taking off his boot and throwing it at him, asking if he's out of his damn mind.

That's not how his 'issues' work. Aversion therapy is meant to change another person so they AVERT away from something. Besides, what if they go through the therapy and Flippy's ordered backninto service, but ends up dead because he can't rely on his instincts?

Problem solved already because, as Splendid points out, Flippy's on a paid leave; his job is to stay OUT of the army now.

Flippy readies his other boot and Splendid backs down. Yes, he could've been more open about this to him. Yes, the whole chained to the wall in a basement thing is WAY too far. Yes, he should have told him as soon as he can, and he's sorry he didn't.

Flippy calms down and asks why he thinks it will work. No offense, but this is already working less than anythung Lumpy did, and the fool hypnotized himself into being a chicken.

Splendid admits he isn't sure, but he still wants to try to help.

Flippy asks what he'll do if he refuses to try this therapy. He's already on pills.

Splendid shrugs and says that while he'll be disappointed, he'll understand and won't be mad. Again, he just wants to help his friend and this is something that's worked for other people, not the chaining to the wall thing, but the aversion and sensory friendly environment, hence the padded room that isn't white, just a very light grey mixed with some blue, which is a calming color.

Flippy considers it for a minute before askung Splendid if he absolutely knows what he's doing.

Splendid nods. It took him a little freshing up and some review from a friend of his, yes. He knows what he's doing.

Flippy eyes him for a second before nodding, agreeing. Despite not saying it out loud, he wants to live life without worrying about killing everyone or snapping because his old instincts getting the better of him.

But stipulates that as soon as things get REALLY bad, they're calling this whole thing off and won't have anything to do with each other after that point.

Splendid rightfully agrees to those terms and tells Flippy to follow him to another room.

Flippy holds up his hands, reminding him of the handcuffs.

Those come off and the two leave the room, Flippy hoping Splendid was good on his word that he knew what he was doing.

Splendid shares a similar sentiment, instead hopi g that he can help his friend have a normal life.

[shesclearlya3]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever P.1

Pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

Word count: 2,541

Warnings: sad, you might cry, spoiler warnings if you are not currently caught up, language p.s. my first ever tumblr fic post! this didn’t end like i expected, please let me know what you think! not entirely proof-read.

*title inspired by Ben Platt’s song*

part 2 part 3 part 4

It has been a year. 

It has been a year since your life was flipped upside down when he was murdered. 

Xavier wasn’t your boyfriend, per se. You had known him for years, meeting him in kindergarten when you were seated next to each other in art, sharing colored pencils and drawing flowers in vibrant colors. 

“Let me show you something!” Xavier had told you, taking the brightest yellow pencil and shakily drawing a sun that wasn't in the corner of the paper but in the middle. Your mouth dropped open at the absurd action; was this kid crazy!? Xavier smiled brightly and leaned over the paint-stained desk, and you could remember his contagious smile with missing teeth like it was yesterday.

Ever since then, you two were inseparable. You had moved in with each other two years after graduation, you working and going to school while Xavier aspired to be an actor, being an aerobics instructor on the side.

You also remember the last time you saw him. He was supposed to be a counselor at that forsaken place, Camp Redwood. Xavier was excited about the job; he didn’t have any siblings, but he liked children, for the most part. He loved the sassy ones, and that a majority of kids were not afraid to speak their mind. Plus, it would be good for him to get away from the bustling city of Los Angeles. He had begged you to come along, but you had a job, you couldn’t possibly take time off at such short notice. 

Now that it has been so long, you wished you would have just gone with him. You knew there was no way you could have talked him out of going because you had already tried that. 

“Are you sure, Xavier?” you asked him for the millionth time, as the two of you sat on the rickety couch, attempting to watch the latest blockbuster movie that had just come out on VHS. “That place has such bad memories for so many people, it’s probably haunted!”

Xavier shook his head, his blond hair falling in front of his baby blue eyes as he finally looked at you, giving you his signature smirk. Whenever he smiled at you, no matter how cocky he seemed, you smiled back. This time you refrained; you wanted Xavier to know you were serious about this. You really didn’t want him to go. Not only did it give you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, you knew you would miss him terribly. 

“It’s going to be fine! You know why?” Xavier asked, leaning closer to you. You lost your resolve, unable to keep from smiling. He liked being close to you.

“Why?” you asked.

“I don’t believe in ghosts, y/n,” he whispered. “Plus, it’s probably all made up, anyhow. I’d be more worried about staying here with the night-stalker on the loose,” Xavier said nonchalantly as if YOU weren’t about to be left alone for the next few weeks. 

You glared at him.

“.. Sorry,” he mumbled, and that was it. 

You laid on your bed the morning of the anniversary, staring blankly at the analog clock on your bedside. It was still early, the sun barely peeking up over the LA skyline. Xavier’s room was still across the hall, door locked, and almost untouched since it happened. His parents had come and collected some of his stuff, and you refused to find another roommate. 

You refused to move anything out of there, all of the clothes and shoes were still where he left them. What pictures of you two that you didn’t have hanging around the place were in there. Some days you needed to see his face; others you couldn’t bear the thought of it. 

You planned on visiting his grave today, but you had been there too many times in the past few weeks. Your mom was becoming worried about you, figuring you were falling into a deep depression, and maybe you were. Xavier was the closest and best friend you ever had, you loved him. 

You were in love with him. 

Not a day goes by that you regret not telling him the truth. You had loved him for a few years, even when he had a fling with some chick Montana, or he occasionally brought a girl home when you were working a night shift. Your first boyfriend actually left you because he knew how you felt for Xavier, and you lied to Xavier by explaining the both of you thought it was best to see “other people.“ 

Once the sun had finally risen, you climbed out of bed and got ready. The sun was already blistering hot, you could tell as the drapes to your windows gently moved in the slight breeze outside your apartment window. You wanted to get some flowers and bring them to Xavier, or at least, his spirit.

As you walked to the small market next door and grabbed the most beautiful bouquet of flowers they offered, you thought of doing something a little bit different. Go to Camp Redwood. 

It seemed like a great idea, as you quickly headed back to your apartment for your car keys. When Xavier’s mother called you that morning and told you what happened, you had raced to their house and listened as the detectives told them where they found him. He was laying by the shooting range, a deep, long stab wound into his stomach, alone. His face was severely burnt, and they assumed he may have been tortured before death. His funeral was closed-casket. 

You grabbed one of the maps Xavier had brought home the night before he left, highlighting the route for you, in case you changed your mind. 

"OR, if my agent calls me for an audition, this is very important, y/n! I don’t even know if the camp will have working phone lines!”

As you got into your car and started heading the one-hundred-and sixty-six miles to the site, you began to cry. The camp was once again abandoned. Apparently, one of the counselors was stabbing another as the bus full of kids approached. Now the county forbade the reopening of the camp, and around here, many people bragged about going to explore and “making it out alive.” They also claimed everything was still in place, you’d find where Xavier died, and the thought scared the shit out of you the closer you got.

You were forced to park your car in front of the entrance, where the gate was now heavily locked. The red letters were still a vibrant red, showing the lost dream of the crazy bitch who decided to reopen it. You took the flowers and held them tightly, almost too tightly as you slowly climbed over the gate and took off towards the shelters.

Nature had already taken over, as many of the cabins were slowly becoming covered in vines and moss, while tiny animals scurried around. You low-key hoped a bear wouldn’t pop out at you as you tried to navigate yourself. Caution tape still remained in some spots, flapping in the wind, causing you to become distracted at the horrors that went on here that night. There was a wooden map of the camp still standing, but the paint wasn’t in the best shape. However, you were able to tell you were by the women’s cabins. 

It took a little longer than you thought, this place was more open than you assumed it would be. Your legs were slightly aching from the trek, but you pressed on, knowing you wouldn’t be satisfied if you wimped out. You turned a corner, and then suddenly, you were staring at a small group of targets, some of them on their sides from the elements or large animals.

Your hands were shaking as you observed the ground, not truly knowing where he took his last breaths, but you didn’t care. You made it. 

You went to the only one still standing and gasped in horror. A large, silver 'X' was sprayed onto the targets face, before a small arrow was drawn, pointing to the side. You felt anger and hurt bubble in your chest, not knowing what the intentions were of whoever did this. 

Multiple news sources released names of all the second Redwood victims, and of course, someone would do this. You hadn’t seen any other markings of vandalism, surprisingly, but perhaps you weren’t paying much attention. You slowly kneeled down and placed the flowers in a random spot, before falling onto your butt and sitting there.

Tears were still falling down your cheeks as you sat in silence, listening to the bugs in the trees and the sound of leaves blowing in the wind. The sun was beating hot onto your back, but you didn’t care. You had driven almost two hours to be here! You were just thankful nobody else was here, or maybe the sickos would come at night to gawk at the whole place like innocent people hadn’t died here.

You found yourself talking before too long. You told Xavier about his family, what they had been up to, and you talked about yourself. You had recently been promoted at work, you were thinking of getting your Masters degree, there was so much he was missing out on. You always talked to him at the cemetery, but here, it seemed more personal. 

“I miss you so much, Xavier,” you sniffled out, wiping your nose on your arm, not caring how disgusting your face felt. It felt good to finally cry, you didn’t do it much anymore. “I-I should have been here, m-maybe we could have survived together, maybe I could have saved you," 

Silence.

You knew he couldn’t answer, you knew it. Yet, you still found yourself angry. Furious at Xavier for coming, mad at yourself for letting him go, for not coming with him. PISSED that anybody let this place open back up. It was good that you set the flowers down because they would be crushed by your fists. 

"I don’t know if I can do this without you,” you sniffed. “I thought it would get better in time, not seeing you every day, not being able to hug you or watch television and pig out in front of the couch before hating ourselves,” you smiled at the memories the two of you had gathered over the past seventeen or so years. “Time is supposed to heal us, right? Xavier, I’m lost without you, nothing is right anymore!”

Your sobs grew louder as everything you had been holding in poured out. This pain was something you hadn’t experienced in your entire life; this was you coming to terms with the fact that it’s over. Absolutely nothing can bring him back, and you were going to live the next seventy years of your life in a world without Xavier in it. 

Hours had to have passed when you finally got the courage to stand up, your throat parched, and your stomach growling in hunger. Your head was pounding as you gave Xavier’s spot a final glance. You’d come next year. 

As you walked back to your car (more like stumbled) from the headache and evident sunburn on your skin, you screamed in fright when a girl with blonde hair darted in front of you, grabbing you into a headlock. You scrambled on your feet, attempting to keep your balance, while simultaneously kicking your leg to knee her in the vagina. 

The mystery girl screamed in pain, her hold on you releasing. Another voice suddenly appeared around you, it was male. This crazy bitch glared at you from the ground as you backed away, holding your hands up in surrender. 

“MONTANA! STOP THIS!” a man flew in your direction, also holding his hands up. He was cute, dark-skinned, wearing a striped shirt. “Are you okay?” he asked you in a genuine voice.

“N-No! What the fuck is wrong with you!?” you demanded, directing your words at Montana, who stood up but thankfully didn’t come near you. Her name didn’t immediately register in your brain, neither of theirs would at first.

“My name is Ray, this is-”

“Montana, bitch,” she hissed at you.

“I caught it the first time!” you snapped back. Montana’s expression slightly faltered, not expecting that. Ray had lowered his hands, but you continued holding them up, figuring if one of them charged, you could probably protect yourself a little better. 

“What are you doing out here?” Ray asked you, and you looked at him with red eyes, a little snot on your nose, but neither cared. Montana had wanted to kill you, but Ray wouldn’t allow it, and Montana knew that.

“My name is y/n, first of all, and second, why is that your business?" 

Montana let out a sarcastic laugh, "I like you!”

“Well, I don’t like you! You fucking attacked me!” you wheezed, wishing you would have left earlier to avoid this. You were not in the right state of mind. Montana blew off the little insult, happy she didn’t have the chance to kill you right away. 

“I’m sorry about her, she is a little on edge around here,” Ray said, figuring it was a good explanation, given the circumstance of them being ghosts. “We get a lot of tourists, thinking they can trash the place, it’s upsetting,”

“Or they’re nasty perverts who get off on the scent of death infesting this place, and you don’t seem like either of those,” Montana commented, and you finally turned to look at her. 

“I-I’m not,”

“Then, why were you here?” Montana pressed.

“My friend was killed here, I.. I was visiting him,”

Ray and Montana both shared a glance, and that’s when it clicked for Montana. She hadn’t paid attention to you much before, but now that she sized you up and down, and you revealed the reason you decided to show up, she knew.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed out.

“What? What’s going on?” Ray asked.

“DID YOU FIND HER?" 

The sound of running footsteps once again freaked you out, wondering if you were about to be ambushed by three people. Suddenly, as if in slow motion, his face appeared in front of you. Not just his face, but his entire body. Montana was still watching you with an open mouth, and Ray only looked confused as fuck. 

You took a step back, your body now trembling as both you and Xavier realized what was happening. He looked shocked, overwhelmed, and so many other things, but you couldn’t stand to look at him. You screamed, turning and running in the same direction you came, running faster than you ever had in your entire life.

"Xavier,” Montana breathed out.

“Montana!” Ray said.

“y/n,” Xavier choked.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?” Ray shouted at the two people, both still at a loss for words. y/n was still screaming at the top of her lungs, but her voice was fading by the minute.

“Y/N!” Xavier yelled, taking off after you. It was an instinct that Montana and Ray followed, both trying to keep up.

But the way Xavier was screaming your name would make the coldest of hearts break. 

[lunaschild2016]

Belief - Part 1 (Edit)

Rating: M

Devi is Dauntless. Through blood sweat and tears she made a place for herself three years ago when she left her life in Amity behind. Not once in that three years has Eric Coulter even deigned to look her way. Not until that night. Now she has nothing but his attention. Eric/OC AU [Smut, Language, Romance]

 Title and story inspired by   Belief   by Gavin DeGraw

Character Inspiration:

Devi Nunez- Diane Guerrero

Eric Coulter- Jai Courtney

Elijah - Alexander Skarsgård

                                                      ~~Belief~~

Tonight you arrested my mind

When you came to my defense

With a knife

In the shape of your mouth

In the form of your body

With the wrath of a god

Oh, you stood by me

Belief

Builds from scratch

Doesn't have to relax

It doesn't need space

Long live the queen

And I'll be the king

In the collar of grace

Tonight, you arrested my mind

When you came to my defense

With a knife

In the shape of your mouth

In the form of your body

With the wrath of a god

Oh, you stood by me

Belief

[Belief, Gavin DeGraw]

                  **********************************************************

 Part 1

 A dare is a fucking dare, and Dauntless don’t give up. I’m dauntless now and have been for the last three years.

I’m doing okay here. I’ve made a place for myself and some friends. Although it was hard leaving everyone I knew behind in Amity, I did it. Even when I knew that my grandparents and brother would wash their hands of me when I left. It wasn’t anything personal but they’re just staunch advocates for peace.

Okay, so maybe for them it was a little personal. They felt like I rejected them, who they are, and everything they stand for. It hurt them badly.

I’ve always held a secret hope they would come to see that I left because my staying would be like a slap in the face to them every day. Small wounds that would build up over time until finally I would knick a vein and cause whatever love we had to just bleed out for good.

See, I can’t even make an analogy about how much I would end up hurting my family without it turning into something out of a war story or horror film.

The thing is I don't really have a big story or wrong from my life in Amity. Not really. It was kind of perfect and I followed along every day with a smile on my face. Granted, my family drowned ourselves in peace serum laced foods and drinks so that helped keep the smile in place. I arrived in Dauntless with the carb-laden proof on my hips and thighs and that took some serious work to fix my first few months here.

I still can’t quite kick the carb habit, so there’s more cushion than there should be probably.

Back in Amity I sang happily, played instruments, braided hair, and took part in the free love once I hit puberty and was flooded with all those lovely hormones.

But my favorite part of life back there was working with the animals. Horses mainly. When we had the rare chance to tame one, gentle we call it though others might have called it breaking them in, I was one of the first they called. I've always had a way about me. I can be gentle when called for but my stubbornness and determination always saw me winning in the end.

Looking back I know that should have been my first clue.

That life I led before, it all changed the day I took the aptitude test. I went in expecting nothing but a life in Amity. It was all planned out for me. That test changed everything in the blink of an eye.

Dauntless.

That was what the Abnegation woman told me, looking at me with understanding soulful eyes as she did so. There was no hiding my shock or stopping the sobs that wracked my body. The woman held me in her arms and told me that it would be okay. I didn’t know how it could be okay when I was feeling, at that moment, that my life was a lie. That  I  was a lie.

Just before I walked out of the door she reached out for my arm and held me back. Her eyes were full of determination and something else that reached deep into me. “You can choose Amity tomorrow, but if you do, you will never truly know who you are or who you could be.”

I went home with her words still ringing in my ears and a tangle of confusing feelings within my heart. I hadn’t been able to hide the pain on my face so my family saw it clearly. They knew as soon as they saw me what that meant. They didn’t ask what faction I got but they knew it wasn’t Amity and they made their position very clear. As gently as mi Abuela could, she let me know that if I left they would not see me again.

They would uphold faction before blood.

I was scared like I had never been before in my life, but I also felt strangely alive.

It was exactly like I felt in the paddock facing an animal that was easily eight inches taller than me and had at least a couple of hundred pounds on me if not more.  I’m a five-foot-four-inch Latina girl that has a few extra pounds in some areas, but I still look like the wind could blow me over. Imagine me standing face to face with beasts towering over me. It must have looked ridiculous.

Out of the paddock, I’m very self-aware, even a little self-conscious. But inside it that all melts away and there is no fear for me. 

When dealing with all the animals I understood that some of the things we had to do could and were considered cruel by others but they never bothered me. Even when some of those things involved the slaughtering of the livestock that is specifically raised for the purposes of feeding the factions. I always had the mindset that it had to be done but at least we could do it in the least stressful way as possible.

As I lay in bed that night after the test I went over things like that in my mind and it had been like unlocking some part of me that had always been held back until the revelation of the aptitude test. I knew then that the Abnegation woman from my test was right. I was given the truth and my path, and I knew I couldn't turn away from it.

I never backed down then and that’s something that hasn’t changed even now.

I have found myself here. It took a lot of work and some very unexpected struggles but I also like who I have become.

Generally, I love my life and who I am.  

Even during times like right now when I know that come the morning sober me is going to be hating the fuck out of drunk me. 

I glare over at my friend as she smirks back at me from across the bar table. I toss back the shot and beer chaser one after the other, then slam the glasses back onto the table.

“Fine! I will!” I snap at her, then shove my way through the bar and head to the door.

My three friends follow close behind me, alternating between disbelieving murmurs or begging me not to do it. I hear one pleading with me to back down for once and that only makes me even more determined to follow through with it.

But seriously, did she really think that was going to happen?

It's a serious character flaw, I know, my refusal to give in or up. Even when it results in situations like back in my initiation and the fights started. I refused to go down easy and more than half of them resulted in me being beaten up pretty badly. I still didn’t give up. And when my next fight came up, no matter how hurt I was, I stepped up and gave it my all.

That alone got me enough points to eke out the ranking I need to get my Physio Therapy and Medic Nurse positions and titles. Three years later and I've worked my way to the position of Head Nurse.  

Walking through the compound, drunk and on the highest heels I could manage to get, is proving a challenge. I wobble and curse as the stone floors throw up obstacles that make me look like I’m a sailor on the deck of a ship during a storm, swaying back and forth. It doesn’t help that even with the heels I am still a couple of inches shorter than most of the people around and have difficulties getting noticed that I’m trying to get through.

I finally manage to shove my way to my objective.

The Pit has different levels with various hangout spots throughout. Some are open-air, meaning they are shoved into some nook that’s carved out of the stone but otherwise have no real enclosures. Others are full-on bars with swinging doors and everything.

Where I need to be is an open-air hangout that is really popular with the high ranking people in Dauntless. It’s a prime location because it’s high enough up that the people there can see almost all places in the Pit. Leaders are known for hanging out there after hours to be able to keep an eye on things and while winding down.

I always thought that it made them seem like they were half part of the faction and half sitting on thrones, lording over everyone.

As I spot him that analogy seems to hit home. He sits at the table like a king on his throne and the people surrounding him sure seem intent on treating him like he’s one.

I can’t help but observe this with a sneer crossing my face as it sure doesn’t seem he’s much of a reluctant ‘king’ as he’s always claiming. He seems to be eating it up as they all gather to kiss his feet and lick his ass. That’s exactly the thought that got me into the position I am now. Drunkenly weaving my way towards his table.

Just a bit ago I loudly made that comment to my friends in the middle of an angry rant and my friend AJ immediately jumped on it, daring me to say those exact words to his face.

And dammit, I’m just mad and drunk enough that I’m going to do exactly that. He needs to know how fucked up what he did is and I am going to tell the legendary Four just what I think of him!

I make my way to his table but there’s a virtual wall of people around him. Some are standing but most are sitting in or on any available surface. Not one of them pays any attention to me as I give polite squeaked pleads to be let through.

One guy looks me dead in the eye, raises an eyebrow, and snorts at me dismissively.

If I wasn’t already pissed that sure did the damn trick. It just fuels it even more, driving any sense of propriety or rational thought from my mind.

Usually, I’m a pretty even-tempered girl unless it comes to something I'm extremely passionate about. But when I came to Dauntless I discovered that once my temper is lit it makes me into a volcano. A tiny one, no doubt, but don’t let my size fool you. I can do some damage now when I need to.

Lucky for the douchebag that fanned the flames my fuse was already lit by someone else and come hell or high water he's going to know it. I furiously look around and my eyes narrow at the nearest table as an idea pops into my head.

With a determined smile, I stomp my way over to the table and start to climb up it. I completely disregard the fact that this table is currently occupied. There was an empty space for me to use for the climb and that was invitation enough for me.

Glasses and bottles scatter and fall, breaking as they go tumbling while I scramble up onto the table and then wobble as I move from my kneeled position to try and stand. The table is solid stone and has no give but my slim stilettos don’t seem to like this new development.

I look down at the shoes I fell in love with and just had to have, prepared to give them a glare and order them to behave. Instead, I get distracted by the realization that they really do make my legs look killer. Vera gushingly informed me when I first showed up in them earlier tonight and I have to agree.

The shouting from around me, as the occupants of the table protest the loss of their drinks, brings me around and I shake my head and the drunken smirk from my face.

“Focus, Devi!” I loudly scold myself and square my shoulders as I stand up, lifting my chin as my eyes zero in on my target.

This is when I notice that many eyes are on me and there are even some people catcalling or whistling while chanting ‘dance, dance '. I would tell those idiots off normally but I see this has gotten the person's attention I wanted all along.

“Hey, Four!” I bellow out loudly, trying to really project my voice. I figure just telling Four what I think isn’t enough anymore. The whole damn faction should know.

The table under me shakes with the force of whoever just slammed their fist down as they yelled. “Fucking figures,” with something that sounds like a groan and growl all in one. But I’m too focused to see who that is or what he means.

Four is looking right at me, startled enough that he isn’t paying attention to the blurry yet vaguely familiar girl beside him who’s trying to get his attention and furiously whispering in his ear.

“I have something to say to you,” I yell with a hand on my hip and my eyes narrowed in anger.

“Devi?” He calls out and that stupid concerned looks he gets crosses his face. “Are you drunk right now?”

“No! And fuck you with your…” I gesture wildly at him, meaning to indicate his face and failing. So I try again using my face while searching for the words to describe what I mean but they're all coming up Spanish in my mind. When the English words finally come to me, I gasp out and continue on triumphantly. “Your stupid puckered forehead and puppy dog eyes, trying to look all concerned and nice. I’ve got news for you. Eres un cabròn. You aren’t as nice as you play at being or what everyone thinks and I’m sick of it!”

“Well, this just got interesting,” Drifts up to me from somewhere below me while around me I can hear mixed reactions from the audience.

There are a good many girls that are scowling at me, shouting out insults. Other people are simply chuckling or making various other sounds of amusement and cheers.

Four briefly looks at the blurry and out of focus girl (those drinks are starting to really hit me hard) who’s still trying to get his attention and seems to make some kind of reassuring gesture to her while he stands and locks eyes with me. His eyes are narrowed in that same concerned look while he slowly starts to raise his hands while approaching me.

I guess it's supposed to look like he’s trying to reassure me but honestly, to me, it just looks like he’s surrendering.

“If this is about earlier today…”

Four speaking and the raised hands just irritate me and I scowl while hissing to myself. “Dauntless don’t give up.”

Then I stomp my foot on the table in determination, ready to repeat that out loud, making something shatter beneath the point of my heel. Someone jumps back from the table cursing but again I press on.

“Remember that? A Dauntless doesn’t give up. We both learned the same thing but maybe I remember it better than you do. Maybe it was too easy for you, Mr. Dauntless Prodigy,” I snort the unofficial nickname for him. “Maybe if you had learned the hard way as I had to it would have stuck a little bit better for you.” I pop my hip out to the side and put my hand on it while staring him down.

“Do you even  try  …” I wave my hand out, almost losing my balance in the process but just barely manage to stay standing “...to actually help them? The initiates you insist on continuing to train yourself? Did you actually try and help that girl? Did you try and tell her that the pain would pass and she would get stronger for it if she could just hang on? No! What did you say to her while she was laying in that bed ready to give up and walk away?” I’m furious now, my blood boiling at the memory. “All you said to her was that these were the new rules and there was nothing that could be done. All you did was imply...  hey...I know you just got the shit kicked out of you but that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t make the rules. I just have to go by them.  Not one word from you that she could become more, that she could become Dauntless. It’s bullshit!” I yell once again, but this time even more fiercely.

The force my yelling and using my body to gesture in my anger unbalances my already precarious position and I lurch forward, arms flailing wildly as I pitch forward. I close my eyes, certain my end is coming and wonder what they’re going to say at my memorial at the chasm.

'Devi, she went how all Dauntless should. Drunk, pissed and stupid.’

“Alright. That’s enough for you tonight.” A voice drawls surprisingly close to me. I realize that the hard feeling against my body is actually that of someone else's against mine, not the ground as I expected. Someone that has me held tightly in his arms and even tighter against his body.

I decide it’s safe to open my eyes again to see who my savior from a very humiliating death is, and get an eye full of black clothes until they travel up to see a jawline made of stone and even harder blue eyes glaring down at me.

“Leave her alone, Eric. She’s drunk and doesn’t know what she’s doing. I’ll get her home.” Four says, getting my attention and I look to see he’s standing in front of me after having barely had to push his way through the crowd.

They all just fucking parted for him like Moses and the Red Sea.

“Como si fuera a ir a cualquier parte contigo. Metelo en el culo Mejor aún, ¡espero que un pollo te pique la polla!” I spit out furiously while glaring at Four.

“Sounds like she doesn’t want anything to do with you at the moment,” Eric says with a chuckle after I threw out a few more choice words in Spanish. More insults that were all livestock oriented and made not a damn bit of sense outside of Amity.

“I don’t!” I nod firmly with a look of smug defiance.

“Devi, you’re drunk and upset about the girl leaving. But you  don’t  need to be going off alone with  him .”

The already taut muscles of Eric’s arms go even tighter as he tenses. It almost feels like there’s a slight tremor in his muscles and apprehension radiates up and down my spine, tingling along the way. I might not know a lot about Eric, despite being in the same faction for over three years and having shared the same initiation. But there is one thing I know for sure and that is Eric’s temper makes mine look like a missile strike against his nuclear explosion.

Still, this isn’t Eric’s fight and I refuse to let him take it on and fight it for me. I started this and I intend to finish it.

“Fuck you, Four!” I snarl out, my face contorting in my anger.

He was already stepping forward, arms out to take me from Eric. I swipe at his arms violently but then immediately switch to gripping Eric’s tightly, nails digging in, when I felt him moving me. There was a moment I thought he was going to hand me over and I certainly didn’t want that to happen, but it turned out he was moving me away from Four.

“You don’t get to tell me what I should do and that girl has a fucking name by the way. It’s Rain, and now she’ll never have the family she left everyone behind for because you didn’t even try to talk her out of walking away. Why didn’t you try!" I yell, my voice breaking a little. "You could’ve told her that it gets better and the pain doesn’t last. You always want to look down your nose at Eric but at least he's always been honest with her and all the rest of them. Yes, he was pushing them hard but at least when he was people like her had a chance. Then you went and complained to get your way. Everyone is always so ready to kiss your ass and lick your feet….” I pause and shake my head because that isn’t right, “I mean kiss your feet and lick your ass…” That sounds right but confusion makes it feel like it isn’t. “You know what I mean!” I huff finally. “Sometimes you have to break someone to make them stronger and she needed to know that. She needed her trainer to tell her she could do it.”

I can tell I’ve royally pissed Four off but I don’t care. It’s all true. And it also hurt me too much to watch that girl throw her life away by giving up. That made me need to hurt someone in return.

“Enough, Devi. You’ve had your say. Now go sleep it off but we will be talking about this privately.” Four says lowly before turning and walking away, vanishing into the crowd that rushes in and blurs around him.

Things had already started to go on the blurring, spinning side, but it feels like hits me even harder all of the sudden. I guess the rush of adrenaline that was pushing me through my drunken state has finally started to fade enough that all that liquor I downed in a short amount of time has decided it’s time to really have fun with me. You would think it's already had its fill by me showing my ass in the Pit but obviously, there is more in store for me. It’s leaving me spinning and groaning as I let my head briefly rest against the solid surface of Eric’s chest.

“I don’t feel so good,” I mutter into his chest after some minutes pass and the spinning hasn’t gotten any better.

I don’t dare to open my eyes. At first, it feels like the air is rushing past my body. Making me think I really am spinning. When I look up all I can see at first is Eric staring straight ahead with his jaw tense but his mouth moving slightly. Like he’s muttering under his breath. I look away from him to see that sensation of air rushing along my body is because we're in motion. Eric still has me locked against his body and is walking at a steady pace but doesn't seem to be rushing. We are nowhere near the pit, telling me he’s already been walking for a bit and I didn’t even realize it.

I try to determine where we are but everything looks like blurred streaks making my head hurt and stomach flip. I groan and slam my eyes shut again.

“I swear if you throw up on me I’ll assign you maid duties in my apartment for a fucking month.”

“I won’t. I just spin.” I reply with a pained sigh before I dare to open my eyes again. Trying to look around me. The doors and hallways are still all speeding by and nothing looks familiar. “Are you taking me home with you, Eric?”

The words come out and I pause, tilting my head because it sounds off to me. Almost as if there was excitement in my tone.

Eric chuckles but it’s so deep and husky that the only reason I realize it is a chuckle is that his body and chest vibrates with it.

He comes to a stop and looks down at me when I tilted my head back to look up at him. His eyes look darker in the light of the residential hallways and the shadows from them make his cheeks morph so that his natural predatory expression just seems even more feral. His eyes flick away from me and he takes a breath then shifts so he has all my weight on one arm while also using his leg to balance me. He leans towards me until I can almost feel the heat of his breath on me.

“Not tonight, little one,” He pauses and lifts his free arm to pound on a door then wraps that arm securely around me again.

Silence fills the heartbeats as I look between him and the door, wondering what the hell’s going on. When there is rustling coming from the other side, Eric gets my attention again. This time it isn’t just the heat of his breath, but the brush of his lips against my ear as he speaks.

“You might not have ever meant to get my attention, Devi,” Locks are being thrown on the other side of the door when I swear I feel the nip of his teeth on the tip of my ear, “But you certainly have it, little one. You better be ready for me now.”

Is that a threat? A promise? Why does it feel like both?

The door opens suddenly and I see Tori standing there, completely disheveled and looking extremely put out to be disturbed. She's not even a bit less intimidating by her state of dress at all.

That’s the thing I most admire about the older woman. I’m sure that most people would be uneasy having to approach her when she is looking like this. While if I tried to pull this same look off it would make me look like a petulant child. She’s certainly always been respected by those that know her but especially now that she became one of our leaders after all the bullshit that went on with Erudite with the assistance of the old Dauntless leader regime.

I grin drunkenly at her which causes her to sniff even as her expression softened slightly for me. Then her eyes shifted over and hardened again when she eyes Eric. Or rather me in Eric’s arms.

“Little late for a tattoo don’t you think, guys?” She deadpans while crossing her arms over her chest.

I start to chuckle, while Eric starts to move without even replying. He doesn’t even ask before he moves forward and through the door, with Tori scowling in his direction but not stopping him either.

His steps take him quickly to the couch where he leans down from the waist and deposits me onto the cushions while speaking over his shoulder to Tori. “Take care of that for me, will ya? I’ll be back to retrieve her in the morning.” He straightens and turns his back to me. Completely ignoring the fact that he’s disregarding me while doing so, and continues to speak to her. “I expect her to still be here.”

The fact that he hasn’t once looked at me again from the time Tori opened the door, along with the fact that he’s treating me like some package he has any control over, just pisses me off. So obviously I have to say and do something about this.

I pop up to get off that couch with every intention of telling him I sleep where I want. When I want. And with who I want….

Only the room starts spinning. I flop back against the couch like a fish out of the water while moaning loudly and putting a hand to my head.

“Wait! Why am I the one being stuck with the extremely drunk girl? One that looks like she’s minutes away from being sick all over my carpet? Need I tell you how hard that shit is to clean from white carpet?”

I crack my eyes open to try and get out something in protest but only let out another moan. I see Eric casually shrugging then turning back to me, reaching down like he’s going to scoop me back up but he does it very slowly and with a smirk on his lips. “Okay. I can take her back to my place like she was asking but I won’t be responsible for what happens there. I just thought I would give that thing that you're always on me about a try. You know, to be less of a selfish dick.”

“Well fuck,” Tori sighs and pushes him away from me just as his hands brush against me. “Fine. But you owe me.”

He grins at her, flashing teeth and looking younger somehow. It occurs to me that I’ve never seen Eric Coulter smile before. At least not like that. I watch all of that as he walks towards the door with some kind of rekindling of a long-dormant, repressed really, desire inside of me as I watch him go. 

Maybe it's my stomach rebelling and Tori really should be worried?

Before he gets to the door he looks at me, really looks at me, for the first time since we entered the apartment and winks.

Wait...Eric just….winked at me?

It takes entirely too long for me to process any of that and by that time Tori is walking towards me from somewhere. In her hands, she has a glass of water and a bottle of pills while a shirt is draped over her arm.

You wouldn’t think it with how she greeted the two of us and the exchange just after, but Tori is the closest thing to real family I have here in Dauntless. She has been since shortly after I arrived. Sure, I have friends now, but none of them are as close to me as she is and none of them were there for me like she’s been.

In my initiation, I was a pariah.

My former faction alone was already a source of ridicule but I had other things going against me from the start. Most everyone just pretended I didn’t exist since it was easier to refuse to get close to someone that was never going to make it. Others seemed to take offense at me being in Dauntless at all. This was usually conveyed by their taunts and making fun of me in any way they could.

Once I was even attacked. I didn’t go down without giving them as good as I got. But I usually faced them, and anything during that time, alone.

One day I wandered into the parlor and after that, I practically lived there every day when I wasn’t involved in something for initiation. I never really let on to what was going on with me or how bad it got and Tori never pressed. Just being there helped and I think she knew that. I wouldn’t say I was working at the parlor, because that wasn’t technically allowed, but I was helping out. From designing things, once Tori and Bud found out I could draw, to helping stock or clean. I learned the ropes and was even thinking about taking up the tattoo gun when initiation ended.

I figured I would probably get a good enough rank for that at least.

When I ranked sixth Tori was the one that urged me to try for something better. She knew that one of my passions and eventual goals in Amity had been to be one of their healers. I had hoped to try and bring in more than what the faction normally allowed for treatments but that had been more of a long-term goal for me then. When I left Amity, I just accepted that wasn’t going to be in the cards for me but Tori made me rethink it and go for the position that was open in the clinic.

She believed in and supported me when I needed her and that the most.

“Devi, Devi, Devi.” She sighs out my name while shaking her head.

By this time I’ve already changed into the shirt, taken the pills and drank most of the water before I had to lay down when the spinning threatened me again.

She runs a hand over my hair softly and worry mars her brow. “What have you done?”

I smile faintly as I remember the night and my triumph. “I told Four off!”

Tori’s hand pauses in mid-stroke of my hair and her eyes widen. Then a smile curls her lips and she laughs softly. “Of course you did.”

“Eric caught me when I fell and then Four tried to tell me I shouldn’t go with him but I told him off again.”

“Did you now? Twice in a row. No wonder.” I frown in confusion but she’s just smirking at me. “I’m sure he doesn’t even realize what he's in for.”

I shrug still not understanding but not up to figuring it out. “I  have  to close my eyes now or I can’t promise I won’t make a Pollock painting of your carpet.”

“Eww.” Tori groans and gratefully grants my request.

I hear her shuffling away and the light that was on in the room clicks off, making the dark behind my eyelids even darker. I let out a blissful moan and reach up to put the heels of my palms over my eyes and gently put pressure on them. Hoping the spinning will stop soon.

It does eventually seem to slow down and I can feel that kind of unconsciousness that happens when I’ve overindulged. Some would call it a blackout but that’s not what happens for me this time. As the spinning slows images start to stream by, some I can’t make out at all and others I can make out but they make no sense whatsoever.

Like the feather duster and the extremely short, frilly black and white dress……..

[midnightactual]

THE BIG BLEACH HC MEME CENTERING AROUND POLITICS, repost & fill out! for anyone who wanted to explore those aspects more, considering it played a big role in the story. some things may be unknown to your muse, just think in what if then & well, have fun and take your time!

BASICS

NAME:   Shihōin Yoruichi    / / /    AGE:   429    / / /    GENDER:   female RACE:   Shinigami / Quincy / Hollow / Fullbringer / Visored / Human / other CURRENTLY LIVES:   Soul Society / Hueco Mundo / Silbern / Living World / Hell EXACT LOCATION:   Urahara Shōten GROUP(S):    Urahara Shōten 

QUESTIONS

- would your muse consider themselves more: good / bad / neutral ? - would your muse consider their group more: good / bad / neutral ? - how does your muse think others see them: good / evil / neutral ? - how does your muse think others see their race: good / evil / neutral ? - how does your muse think others see their group: good / evil / neutral ?

- is your muse considered a threat: yes / no ?  by whom?:  Hollows / Quincy / Shinigami - is your muse powerful: yes / no ?  could they be considered op:  yes / no ? - did your muse commit any crimes: yes / no ? - does your muse think they are doing mostly the right thing: yes / no ? - would society think the same: yes / no / mixed opinions ?

- does your muse think they are treated unfairly: yes / no / mixed opinions ? - does your muse feel understood by others: yes / no / mixed opinions ? - is it important for them what others think of them as a person: yes / no ? - would they welcome death:  yes / no ? - will they ever find peace:  yes / no / maybe ?

01.0.  DO THEY FULLY STAND BEHIND THE GROUP THEY ARE PART OF? yes / no . WHY IS THAT? EXPLAIN: Yoruichi only returned full-time to the Urahara Shōten when it became evident that events with Aizen were coming to a head and that other events (with Xcution and Wandenreich) would also require her participation. Although her personal relationship with Urahara Kisuke is somewhat complicated, when it comes to political matters there is no daylight between them. The Urahara Shōten as a whole is not, in fact, a disinterested or neutral third party but an outfit with its own agenda and solutions not only no less radical than those of Aizen, Ginjō, Yhwach, or so on, but if anything an objective even more radical. Although at least one of those solutions failed to materialize in the recent war (the complete cosmological transmogrification and restructuring of reality at the hands of Kisuke’s “Trojan Horse” program), Yoruichi nonetheless regards Kisuke’s various efforts as the most likely means of achieving their shared desire for change... although she is also increasingly moving toward a, “Fine, I’ll do it myself,” position as time goes on. 

02.0.  DO THEY LIKE AS THINGS ARE IN SOUL SOCIETY? yes / no / indifferent . 02.1.  IS THERE ANYTHING THEY WOULD CHANGE? EXPLAIN HERE: Yoruichi is more fully aware of the day-to-day horrors of Soul Society than anyone other than perhaps the Sōtaichō (be that Yamamoto or Shunsui). As head of the Onmitsukidō she had direct access to intelligence reports regarding covert and political activity against Shinigami, Pluses in Rukongai, Hollows and Arrancar in Hueco Mundo, and humans on Earth. She was effectively the head of the secret police. Between that and her former standing as the Clan Head of one of the Four Great Noble Clans, she knows where most if not all of the bodies are buried. With that knowledge in hand, she is of the opinion that the entire organization of Soul Society and all the institutions which support it—the Gotei 13, the Onmitsukidō, the Kidō Corps, Zero Division, the Soul King, and the Four Great Noble Clans—should fall. Indeed, her position goes farther, as she regards Soul Society as a realm (and likewise, most of the other realms as well) to be an aberration. She therefore privately advocates for the destruction of Soul Society not just as it currently exists, but wholesale. A major (essentially unbridgeable) distinction between her and others so inclined is that she is emphatic about minimizing casualties despite this. To briefly summarize her position: to the greatest extent possible, everyone should be brought to Earth, all other realms should be collapsed, and the cycle of reincarnation should be destroyed. This end goal ironically resembles Yhwach’s in overall outline, but is actually completely opposed when it comes to every important detail.

03.0. WOULD THEY EVER ACTIVELY TRY TO BRING CHANGE (in general)? yes / no. 03.1. IS YOUR MUSE MORE: passive / active ?  introverted / extroverted / ambivert ? 03.2. DOES YOUR MUSE CARE MORE ABOUT: others / themselves ? 03.3. DO THEY TROUBLE THEIR MIND OVER A LOT OF PROBLEMS? yes / no . 03.4. DO THEY MOSTLY INVOLVE: the world / everyone / themselves / comrades / friends / family / elderly / kids / teenagers / home / workplace / strangers / souls / humans / Quincy / Shinigami / nobles / Fullbringers / Visored / Hollows / Espada / Arrancar / (former) boss(es) / pets / animals / zanpakutō spirit / enemies / partner / lovers / Soul King / god / other… (add more) ? 03.5. NAME (UP TO) THREE WHICH ARE THE MOST ON THEIR MIND (optional, adding names): - herself - the world - Shinigami

04.0. DO THEY THINK FREQUENTLY ABOUT POLITICS? yes / no / sometimes. WHY IS THAT? EXPLAIN: Yoruichi has always been required to be politically astute, engaged, and observant by virtue of her heritage and positions. Although she was already thoroughly disgusted by Soul Society’s organization, conduct, and history at the time she went into exile, her exposure to human philosophy would give a more coherent voice to her criticisms, in addition to galvanizing and radicalizing her positions. She has scaled-up and applied what she’s learned to the cosmological problems which most interest her.  Her political positions are decidedly leftist and intersectional, although she has some positions that might seem somewhat outmoded or esoteric to modern sensibilities. (Some examples: with her focus on Soul Society’s caste structure, she is much more likely to describe problems in structural and systemic terms focused on classism than through identity politics; although she is very interested in minimizing harm to others she has no compunctions regarding and makes no apologies for political violence when she thinks it’s necessary, etc.)

05.0. HOW DO THEY FEEL IN THEIR CURRENT LOCATION: positive / negative / neutral ? 05.1. WHY IS THAT?: Yoruichi enjoys Earth the most of any of the realms, but she’s also possessed of a certain kind of wanderlust and Karakura isn’t exactly her favorite place on the planet. At the same time it is sort of home (or the closest thing she has to one) even if she won’t admit it out loud. She has a kind of found family, even if (like with most families) it often feels like as much of a burden as it does a boon. At any rate, there are far worse places to be, and it’s where she needs to be to get what she wants.

06.0. DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY GOAL: yes / no ?  big / small ? 06.1. DOES IT INVOLVE ANYTHING WORLD-CHANGING: yes / no ? 06.2. IF GOAL OR NOT, ANY FUTURE PLANS? SHARE HERE: Yoruichi’s first and foremost objective is to stay alive and to maintain her freedom (as defined by her). She isn’t at all selfless or a saint. At the same time, however, she despises her role in the injustice of reality and remains haunted by her past action and inaction alike. Deep down she knows she can’t run and hide from things—she can never escape herself—and that she has the power to make a difference. Accordingly, she does what she can to improve the world, even if at any given time she can only do small things. Ultimately, changing the world is her method of saving and accepting herself. For her, it’s “Go Big Or Go Extinct”.

07.0. DOES YOUR MUSE KNOW ABOUT THE ORIGINAL SIN OF SOUL SOCIETY*: yes / no ? (* curious? read about it here.) 07.1. IF THEY KNEW, WOULD IT CHANGE THEIR VIEWS ON SOUL SOCIETY: yes / no / n/a ? 07.2. MORE: positive / negative / neutral / n/a ?

08.0. WHO IS THE WORST PERSON IN THEIR EYES?: Yoruichi doesn’t readily subscribe to the idea that most individuals have much say or influence in things, but if any given one does and has had the most influence on the travesty of reality, it would be Hyōsube Ichibē. (She is however, thoroughly unimpressed with Yhwach and Aizen Sōsuke; familiarity breeds contempt: her understanding of their positions only magnifies her disgust at the differences between them and their [perceived] lack of morality and ethics.) 08.1. WHAT SHOULD HAPPEN TO THEM? execution (quick / slow death) / imprisonment / stripped of their powers / torture / repay for their sins / pay a fine / social work / lose their loved ones / exile / other… (add more) 08.2. EXPLANATION: No one person has had so much influence on Soul Society (and thus all the other realms) for such a long period of time as him. The Four Great Noble Clans have declined in power relative to him and his entourage as well. Thus, while Yhwach presented an existential threat (threatening billions at once), Ichibē is, to Yoruichi’s mind, creeping death. An analogy might be how malaria has been the cause of death for around half of all the 100–150 billion humans to have ever lived. Forcing him to endure an eternity of wandering as but a normal man, like Cain, seems a fitting punishment in return. But she isn’t much invested in his punishment, just in his removal from the program.

09.0. THOUGHTS ON: QUINCY MASSACRE IF THEY KNEW: positive / negative / neutral ? 09.1. WOULD THEY BE ALRIGHT WITH SUCH THING HAPPENING AGAIN: yes / no / indifferent ? 09.2. WOULD THEY TRY TO PREVENT IT: yes / no / depends ? 09.3. EXPLANATION: Yoruichi’s awareness of the Quincy Massacre at the time of its occurrence was limited but tangible. She was Executive Militia Corps Commander at the time, and their role in the Massacre was highly limited to token scouting, with that operation largely being run out of the 12th Division. (Kurotsuchi Mayuri’s claim to have “studied” 2,661 Quincy only seems plausible if he was present for the Quincy Massacre, and was later incarcerated in the Maggot’s Nest where he would be found by Kisuke. Given his evident familiarity with Shutara Senjumaru, and the fact that Kirio Hikifune seemed to be a researcher [creating artificial souls], this suggests that research was concentrated in the 12th Division even before Kisuke established the SRDI, and that Mayuri had long been a part of whatever research body existed.) She finds the matter to be beyond repugnant in retrospect, and being aware of Ishida Sōken’s ideas, would violently oppose any effort to repeat it.

10.0. WOULD THEY EVER SWITCH SIDES: yes / no / maybe ? 10.1. IF YES, WHAT COULD BRING THEM TO DO SO?: The emergence of irreconcilable differences of opinion. (Another side offering exactly what she wanted would likely just cause the Urahara Shōten to ally with that party.) 10.2. WOULD THEY CREATE A NEW SIDE: yes / no ?  OR JOIN A CURRENT ONE? IF SO, WHICH: ... Fullbringers? 10.3. EXPLANATION: Yoruichi’s perspective is that consciousness is what has value, and from that perspective a Shinigami or Arrancar is actually no more valuable than a human despite the difference in power. She would readily grant this status to artificial life (e.g., Nemu, Ururu, Jinta) and even to artificial souls and mod-souls as well (although she is not particularly impressed by say, Kon). Accordingly, the biggest reservoir of life that exists—the majority—resides with Earth and humanity, and she will thus side with them before any others. It seems to her that Kisuke has the same beliefs, but a difference or change of opinion on this is essentially the only matter which could break their alliance ideologically.

11.0. DOES YOUR MUSE FOLLOW A CERTAIN MORAL CODE*?:  yes / no / gray area ? (* ethics: a written, formal, and consistent set of rules prescribing righteous behavior, accepted by a person or by a group of people.) 11.1. WHAT DOES IT INVOLVE?: Yoruichi is a strong believer in “doing the right thing.” although what that means has changed over time. For a time during her century of exile she tried to renounce violence or minimize her involvement, only to find that made things worse. She has no particularly structured code and operates largely off of an ethos of “I’ll know it when I see it,” with no great regard for internal consistency between decisions (although they are actually far more consistent than they might initially seem).   11.2. WHAT DOES IT NOT INVOLVE?: Although Yoruichi is not averse to political violence, she is not a believer in individual propaganda of the deed (e.g., assassination, indiscriminate targeting) for political ends, believing only a political vehicle can “legitimately” carry out political action. She generally eschews killing in situations that don’t involve self-defense or defense of others, although she continues to struggle with notions of when and how quickly to escalate (a point underscored by her fight against Askin Nakk Le Vaar where this cost her and loved ones dearly). There is generally a whole host of behavior she will not condone or excuse even in the pursuit of her goals, such as torture. (”It’s not enough to survive. One has to be worthy of surviving,” remains a tension which plays with and counterbalances her more basic survive-at-[almost]-all-costs agenda.) Likewise, although she takes a rather dim view of many things, Yoruichi tries her hardest to see people for who they are and to be kind rather than to immediately paint them by their associations. 

YOUR MUSE’S VIEWS / OPINIONS ON THESE GROUPS?

CENTRAL 46:   positive / negative / neutral .   ━   BECAUSE:   Unqualified, unrepresentative, corrupt, self-serving, and short-sighted, Central 46 is basically the special interest group of lobbyists for the Four Great Noble Clans which captured the government of the Seireitei and Soul Society as a whole. Even as lobbyists go, they’re remarkably incompetent, being staffed largely by second and third-string yes-men from those same clans.

FOUR GREAT NOBLE CLANS:   positive / negative / neutral .   ━   BECAUSE:   The supposed rulers of the universe, the majority of their number are in fact weak, feckless, pampered, and foolish. Although Yoruichi has respect for Kuchiki Byakuya and Shiba Kūkaku (to include the Shiba), and to a (much) lesser extent Kurosaki Isshin, and had respect for Kuchiki Ginrei and Shiba Kaien, that respect is and was given on an individual basis. The other two Clans beyond the Kuchiki and Shihōin can’t even be bothered to interact with the Gotei 13, focusing almost wholly on political maneuvering, which makes them even more pathetic in her eyes.

ROYAL GUARDS / GOTEI 13:   positive / negative / neutral .   ━   BECAUSE:   She holds Zero Division in disdain as they’re essentially the foremost guarantors of the system which benefits the Four Great Noble Clans and themselves. They’re basically the linchpin of the whole rotten enterprise. The Gotei 13 are, by comparison, merely useful idiots, obsessed with red tape and paperwork even as they prattle on about their noble cause while they drink themselves into a stupor to ignore their routine inaction. There are plenty of good people in at least the latter group, but they serve a corrupt and dysfunctional organization. Even something like the U.S. Military Assistance Command, Vietnam, absolute clusterfuck that it was, was a more competently run outfit than the Gotei 13.

FULLBRINGERS:   positive / negative / neutral .   ━   BECAUSE:   No great opinion. Fullbringers are largely just people. Xcution is a rather different entity than the Fullbringers as a category. (Her opinion on Xcution is that—her friendship with Ukitake Jūshirō set aside for a moment—she could understand their motivations... but they were rather like a middle school basketball team wanting to compete in the NBA, to give one possible analogy. An enterprise doomed from the start consisting largely of a motley crew of misfits, if not outright sociopaths in several cases. Might have been useful and stabilized with earlier intervention.) 

VISORED:   positive / negative / neutral .   ━   BECAUSE:   Yoruichi is directly responsible for the survival of the Visored. While they may not always see eye to eye on any given subject, she counts many of them as personal friends or at least comrades, even after the return of several of their number to the Gotei 13. She’s of the opinion that deep down, many of them share a similar sense of right and wrong and have similar doubts about the system as she does. 

ESPADA:   positive / negative / neutral .   ━   BECAUSE:   Yoruichi holds a thoroughly neutral opinion of the remaining Espada. They could be reckoned as possible allies, but at the same time may just as likely still be lingering threats. At any rate, they seem (largely) open to reason and negotiation, and so she reacts to and treats them accordingly. The former Espada were a rather more mixed bag, and she doesn’t really regard the death of several of their number (notably: Yammy, Ulquiorra, Szayelaporro, Aaroniero, Nnoitra, and Zommari) as any loss.

QUINCY:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   BECAUSE:   The Quincy as a category again strike Yoruichi as just another group of people. Wandenreich, like Xcution, is a rather different entity than the Quincy as a category. (She obviously sided against Wandenreich in opposition to Yhwach’s objectives. While she’s aware of at least some of the conduct undertaken by Wandenreich’s forces, she’s also aware of some of the conduct undertaken by the Gotei 13 in the previous war—and war is war. With the war over she bears no real further grudges, although she continues to analyze tactical data and make adjustments accordingly, and does ruminate over what she could’ve done differently. Their organization and baseline skill were at least impressive.)

YOUR MUSE’S VIEWS / OPINIONS ON THESE (IMPORTANT) PEOPLE?

AIZEN:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   BECAUSE:   Genocidal, amoral narcissist, sociopath, and megalomaniac. Right idea for all the wrong reasons. Might actually have been useful and on-side though if he hadn’t been such a fucking asshole.     

YHWACH:   positive / negative / neutral .   ━   BECAUSE:   Genocidal, amoral narcissist, sociopath, and megalomaniac. Right idea for all the wrong reasons. Was probably always going to have been such a fucking asshole given he seemed to have no qualms with destroying Earth.

MAYURI:   positive / negative / neutral.   ━   BECAUSE:   Genocidal, amoral narcissist, sociopath, and megalomaniac. Not right, not even wrong. Largely just a sadist, honestly. Never understood what Kisuke saw in him.

ICHIGO:   positive / negative / neutral .   ━   BECAUSE:   Ichigo is a good kid with a decent head on his shoulders and far, far too many expectations placed upon him. He did well given that, and is fundamentally a decent person. More trustworthy than any of the other jerks that come included in this listing, that’s for sure.

SOUL KING:   positive / negative / neutral .   ━   BECAUSE:   Yoruichi isn’t really opposed to the Soul King himself, but rather what he represents and facilitates. As an entity... she mostly just feels pity for him and his seemingly endless suffering. She’s interested in tearing down the system that relies upon him, thus possibly liberating him (which she would generally support morally) but her thoughts regarding his restoration or reintegration are less sophisticated and developed. If it were to become evident one would aid the other, however... She also has some concerns, strategically, about what he might seek to do if put back together, but these are of secondary concern to her. 

EXTRA (optional): add more characters which hold some meaning to your muse.

URAHARA KISUKE:   Kisuke has been, is, and likely will always be a part of Yoruichi’s life, regardless of what form that takes. Even when she was travelling the world, there were several occasions when she came back to see him, or at least wanted to (the most notable of which was the outbreak of WW2). While their interpersonal dynamics are variable and often complicated, they share a certain ease in being around one another and have each other’s backs and understanding in a way that cannot be readily or easily communicated. She’s still working on getting him to open up more and to understand what consent is, though.

TSUKABISHI TESSAI:   Tessai is an unsung hero of the group and a radically underappreciated member of the Urahara Shōten. Although he often seems to want for nothing, Yoruichi can’t help but feel that she and Kisuke owe him at least as much as he owes them. Just as he would go anywhere and do anything for her, she would return the favor without a second thought.

SHIBA KŪKAKU:   Yoruichi’s best friend forever (as Kisuke gets a somewhat different label), she genuinely sort of regrets the state of de facto self-imposed isolation that Kūkaku has found herself in. (She also still feels bad that Kūkaku felt obliged to agree to Kisuke’s plan and took on Ginjō Kūgo, Tsukishima Shūkurō, and Kutsuzawa Giriko, even if she knows why.) She also still remains (mildly) traumatized by the events that cost Kūkaku her arm. She wishes there was some way to more easily draw her into experiencing Earth.

SOI FON:   Her former charge, kōhai, and bodyguard, Yoruichi finds herself sometimes guilt-ridden regarding both how Soi Fon has developed as a person in her absence, and that Soi Fon has essentially been put in the same position as she herself once was. It feels to Yoruichi like a failure on her own part, and one that she not only isn’t sure how to atone for, but isn’t sure she can atone for.

KUCHIKI BYAKUYA:   The same things are true for Byakuya as for Soi Fon. Yoruichi has a low key but still profound sense that she abandoned them and that their current arguably damaged personas are in many ways her fault.

CONGRATS, YOU MANAGED TILL TO THE END, NOW TAG YOUR FELLOW BLEACH PARTNERS!

Tagged by: n/a Tagging: n/a

[jmsebastian]

Project Zero 2: Wii Edition and the Remake Dilemma

I’m a firm believer that remakes are typically losing propositions. There are cases that buck this trend as there always are (Resident Evil comes to mind), but when it comes to games that can be considered landmark titles in their respective genres, or just superbly made games, the benefit of a remake is limited to its availability on new platforms. This is something a port could accomplish with significantly less risk of messing with the integrity and intent of the original creation. Sometimes, though, games are completely overhauled for one reason or another. Project Zero 2: Wii Edition falls into this category.

A remake of the 2003 PlayStation 2 and Xbox release, known in the US as Fatal Frame II: Crimson Butterfly, Project Zero 2: Wii Edition uses two basic templates from which it forms its mold. The first is the original game. Fatal Frame II was a pretty big step forward from its predecessor. It maintained the basic underpinnings of exploring haunted old buildings and fighting ghosts by taking pictures of them with a magic camera, but it added some significant and interesting changes. In Crimson Butterfly you don’t go through the whole house of horrors alone. Your twin sister often tags along as your AI companion. This means she can alert you to the location of ghosts, and can also become the target of their attacks. The mechanics of camera combat are tweaked as well, where your proximity to ghosts is used to scale your damage up more than the time multiplier used in the first game. Because of this, ghosts often have jittery animations that make getting close to them risky and capturing them with combo inducing fatal frames difficult. The explorable area is also expanded out to several sometimes connected buildings and the space between those buildings in a small village compared to the single mansion that made up the first game.

Wii Edition borrows Crimson Butterfly’s structural framework practically wholesale. The level design in almost unchanged, the combat parameters are pretty much the same, and your AI sister manages to get in your way just about as often. What’s different is everything else. Shedding the fixed camera angles so common in survival horror games, Project Zero 2 takes its presentation from its console release cousin, Zero: Tsukihami no Kamen. Released four years earlier in 2008, Tsukihami no Kamen completely shifted how the Fatal Frame games were presented to players and how players interacted with them. The camera went from fixed and set tracking to being pulled in over the player character’s shoulder. It became dynamic, the player could direct it with a certain amount of freedom to focus on what they wanted to in the environment. Motion control was also introduced to more accurately convey the feeling of aiming a flashlight and camera around. It was a complete break from what the series had been doing up until that point, and Project Zero 2: Wii Edition fully embraces these changes.

The mix of classic Fatal Frame level design with modern Fatal Frame camera angles and control schemes produces mixed results. For lack of a better term, the game is clumsy. This manifests itself in some interesting ways. First is the unoptimized menu navigation. As you explore the Lost Village, you come across a variety of objects that reveal lore. Most of these are paper documents of various types. Picking one up will open the article so you can read it. To close it, you first press B on the Wii remote to stop reading, then press A to close the text. This might not sound so bad, not adjusting the purpose of a single button to match player intent in context-sensitive ways makes quickly navigating the menu both confusing to learn and quite difficult to do quickly. While the backstory to the Fatal Frame games is interesting and worth taking the time to investigate, repeat playthroughs don’t always require that you read a seven-page journal entry again. The menu system actively works against playing quickly or efficiently. Considering how much time players have to spend in menus, missteps here can add up to some significant time loss.

Time lost to players doesn’t seem to have been a concern for Koei Tecmo when developing this game as it also features unskippable cutscenes. Wii Edition is not a game that is overwhelmed by its pre-rendered scenes, but they are frequent enough that they disrupt play in regular intervals. For first time players, they probably aren’t something you’d want to gloss over as they provide guidance on what to do next but they are far, far less important for those who have played the game before. Not being able to skip these scenes is especially odd considering the odds that many people playing the remake of Crimson Butterfly also played the original and are familiar with the story already. Forcing players to watch cutscenes always ends up feeling like the player is having control taken away from them, and it’s especially painful here due to the more general issues with player control.

Perhaps the easiest target with regard to player control is how it feels to move the player character around. Unfortunately, Mio and Mayu feel very slow. Slow movement on its own is not a problem, but the game does not feel balanced around the movement speed. A prime example is the sluggishness of the quick turn. What was a snappy animation that turned you around 180 degrees in Tsukihami no Kamen became a set piece of animation reorienting the character that feels as if it’s playing back in slow motion. The animation itself isn’t even particularly slow, but the built-in delay to the starting of that animation makes the whole thing feel unnaturally labored. It’s a much less useful technique because of this. Timing it right during combat becomes more a test of how well you anticipate a ghost’s actions rather than how quickly you can react, which is unfair to ask of players when ghosts spend so much of their time hidden from player view.

The slow movement might have been the result of the game taking place in such tight quarters, a problem created when spaces aren’t redesigned to match the other changes. The slow animations feel like a safeguard against players running themselves into walls constantly or rushing past something they were supposed to pay attention to. This is taken to an extreme in one particular room where the player can walk through a pair of hanging curtains. Going through them triggers an especially aggravating animation of Mio nervously pushing the curtain back before stepping forward. These animations are triggered by proximity to the curtain rather than the on-screen prompt to press A like in nearly every other interaction in the game. It’s a particularly bad moment. If you just to happen to be ambushed by a ghost while doing this, suddenly you can rush through the curtains at full running speed with no issue, demonstrating the arbitrary nature of Mio’s movement limitations. Unfortunately, the forced pace feels like it creates more problems than it solves. Players just have to suffer through everything taking a bit longer than it probably should, with backtracking or getting temporarily lost compounding the problem.

Getting ambushed here is about as dirty a trick as the game can play.

Combat also suffers some unexpected clunkiness. All Fatal Frame games are a bit clunky when it comes to wielding the Camera Obscura, though this has the express purpose of making the game both challenging and tapping into the fear of the player, who might perform the wrong action due to a panicked state. In Zero: Tsukihami no Kamen, the imprecise motion controls of the Wii were mitigated by the lock on mechanic. One could argue this made the game a bit too easy, but Project Zero 2 for Wii goes very far in the other direction. The lock on keeps your camera in the vicinity of your nearest target, and the player must adjust their aim within the lock by rolling the Wii remote to either side or pointing it up or down. Locking on happens quickly and is accompanied by a satisfying shink sound that provides the player with positive feedback. Hearing it, you get the sense that the hard part is over and now it’s just a matter of waiting for a fatal frame chance.

Really, your photo album efforts are just beginning as the ghosts can easily disappear out of your lock on, reducing your spirit energy levels back to nothing. What you’re supposed to do is lock on, then diligently follow along, making minute adjustments to the position of the Wii remote in order to keep the ghost centered in the viewfinder. This is no easy feat, especially if your Wii remote calibration is off or you have a less than ideal location for the sensor bar. The semi-automated lock on and precision aiming feel at odds with one another. Adding in the analog stick of the nunchuck on top of that for turning your character around and you have three methods of controlling the aim of the Camera Obscura, all of which just get in each other’s way. Its lack of complementary components is all the more surprising since it had worked so much better in the previous Wii effort. While Tsukihami no Kamen’s combat could certainly have used some fine tuning, Wii Edition reduced that complete package back down to its individual pieces without remembering how they were supposed to fit back together.

The game really forces you to upgrade as much as possible since your basic film does very little damage and getting fatal frame combos is quite difficult compared to the other games in the series.

A quirkier addition for combat scenarios is the blacking out of the screen during certain encounters. There you are, tracking a ghost as it glides around the room while you charge your spirit meter, when suddenly the room goes completely dark. You lose the ability of your filament to point you toward the ghost’s position right along with the ability to see anything. It’s supposed to add tension, maybe even give you a fright. The first time it happens, it gets close to accomplishing that. At the very least you’ll be surprised. That raising of the stakes fails to deliver once you figure out that the underhanded tactic of your spectral enemy goes away after a few seconds and in the meantime, you can just run around to avoid getting caught unaware. It’s a fun new trick to see once, but it doesn’t force the player to reassess their predicament or use new strategies to deal damage to ghosts. The same exact methods of evasion work just as well, you simply have to wait until the lights come back on to hurt your foe.

Since the game was released in PAL regions, it did receive localized voice acting in English. What might be a surprise to those of us in North America is that the dub was done with English voice actors, meaning it differs wildly from the original English language dub that was produced for North America and PAL regions. For those familiar with the original game, it’s quite off-putting to hear these new voices. For a game so rooted in being Japanese, non-Japanese voice acting always felt a little strange. To their credit, the actors who worked on Project Zero: Wii Edition did a fantastic job, and once you’ve become accustomed to it, I find that it often outshines the original English dub. Sadly, the English dub is the only one you can choose from despite its release in multiple European countries and featuring several language options for the subtitles and menus (I played the Italian release, complete with box art and manual, printed in Italian). The Japanese audio isn’t even available, which is a real shame, as it would have been nice to give the characters their presumed native language to give it that much more coherency. Of course, multi-language tracks were still uncommon in 2012, so you take what you can get.

Aside from getting an English dub, the greatest thing about the PAL release of Wii Edition is that it made the game available to a wider audience. If you only happen to have a North American Wii, however, you face the same kinds of problems trying to play this game as you do trying to play the fourth game. Without a PAL or Japanese console, you can’t simply pop a disc in and start playing. If you don’t want to invest in another console for a single game, then the easy answer is emulation. Wii emulation is in a very good state, so the game is easily playable on PC, though you are likely to get some audio stuttering and maybe a bit of slowdown. You can even get a USB sensor bar and pair your Wii remote with your computer to replicate the control scheme exactly. If you want to play on your North American console, you can also do that thanks to the robust homebrew community for the console. Bypassing the region lockout using sideloaded applications means you can play the game on actual hardware exactly as one would expect, and it works flawlessly. If you really want to, you can also track down an undubbed version of the game which features the original Japanese audio with the texts of the various PAL region languages.

With so many available options to play it, the question really becomes whether or not it’s worth playing. For anyone who loves Fatal Frame, the answer is easy enough. Yes. It’s interesting to see the game redesigned for a completely different perspective. It’s fun to hear the extremely different voice acting, and at its core, it’s very much the same type of game that all the games in the series are. You can’t really go wrong with it in that regard. For those who might be coming late to the series, I’d have to recommend the original over this version. Crimson Butterfly is readily available, can be played digitally in HD via the PlayStation 3, and simply holds up better as an overall package. If you love motion controls but only have room in your life for one Fatal Frame game to try, then you’re better off going with Zero: Tsukihami no Kamen. It’s more responsive animations, more appropriately designed locales, and tighter Camera Obscura mechanics make it the obvious choice. It also incorporates the Wii’s motion control gimmicks in interesting and surprising ways that truly enhance the experience, something Project Zero 2: Wii Edition curiously omits. For a remake, Wii Edition doesn’t make much of a case for itself being the definitive version. It acts more as a companion piece to the original, a super new game plus, almost. It’s one to come back to only once you’ve made your way through the rest of the series and still want more 

[jonathandavidlange]

Comic Theory Pt. 2

Just Because We Can Doesn't Mean We Should.

Three Panel Technique

On my third book, GRAVES, I employed a technique of almost always using three panels for each page. After my second book, I wanted a format that would bring to the comic medium a space that the characters could inhabit, along with an emotional continuity that comics rarely possess. After doing some experiments, I landed on a three-panel technique. While writing the rough draft and storyboards for GRAVES, I happened to read Osamu Tezuka's Lost World and The Mysterious Underground Men. Both books were written in the late 40s and utilized a three-panel technique on each page. This gave me the confidence to make all of GRAVES a three-panelled comic, and I had such a good experience making the comic that I've continued to utilize these techniques for the stories I have written since.

In working with the three-panel system, I have wondered if I am truly utilizing the comic medium to its fullest capability. My goal is to stabilize the perspective and approach to comic storytelling so that techniques used in film can be utilized in the comic medium. Frank Miller said that he went into comics to make them more cinematic, and that he stays in the industry to make them less so. With the production of his Sin City as a film, it is clear that any comic style can be translated to cinematic language, making Miller's statement a moot point.

So why use the three-panel method utilizing fewer comic techniques (less panels, less word balloons, less sound effects, duller colors, etc...) to make the comic language more like film? Because I believe the mediums are very related and share a lot of the same principles. They share visual narrative principles and techniques like being a visual medium, the use of cuts or edits (shown by panels and page turns in comics), and the use of texture and tertiary story devices (such as sound effects, set design, and sound design).

Emotional Integrity

Film consistently achieves a level of depth and drama that is very rare in comics. Every year there are multiple films that move me deeply and push the medium forward in daring and personal ways. In an average year there is rarely even one comic that moves me as much as five movies that have come out that year. From self-produced to indie to Marvel and DC--every year I am hard-pressed to find a comic that resonates with me to the same extent as current films. (Some examples of what came out the year I wrote this, 2016: Captain Fantastic, Moonlight, Manchester By The Sea, Neon Demon, Nocturnal Animals, and Arrival to name just a few.)

Imagine a year in comics where there were several comics that achieved a level of specific and personal emotion like the film Moonlight, written and directed by Barry Jenkins. In this film we follow one man, Chiron, who is played by three different actors. We see him grow up and encounter all of the complexities of living in Miami. We also see him struggle with his mother as a drug addict and try to navigate life with his father figure who is a gentle and loving drug dealer. What could easily become a niche art-house film is instead universal because of its approach to heartache, identity, and family. It is constructed in the most professional and wonderful way. Everything converges to make one fantastic story that washes over you, and I would dare anyone to not be shaken emotionally by it.

Some examples of earnest, raw, and nuanced intelligent emotion in comics includes contemporary comic artists Aidan Koch and Austin English as they achieve an abstract, emotionally-rich level of storytelling. In the graphic novel by Sam Alden It Never Happened again: Two Stories (2014), it is raw and powerful, yet refined and subtle. The emotional intensity and keen observation of human interaction and existence is profound and completely on par with the most understated and nuanced of films and novels. There are indie masters like Terry Moore and Alan Moore who consistently have vivid characters and build rich worlds. Masters of the past like Osamu Tezuka and Harvey Pekar continually tapped into genuine human emotion and shared insight into the human condition. Recent superhero stories by Geoff Johns, Justice League (2012), and Scott Snyder, Batman (2012), often capture the fun and energy one had when reading superhero stories as a child. They both add layers of humanity to superhero stories that are often stock and cold when written by others.

People may argue that graphic novels, specifically biographical stories, do achieve the same level of emotion that a work like Moonlight achieves. I cannot deny subjective emotion that wells up in a reader. But I can argue technique and structure. Using the example of body-horror stories, stories that focus on the fragility and decay of the human body, the structure and depth of character in a graphic novel like Charles Burns’ Black Hole (2005) cannot compare to a film like Andrej Zulawski's Possession (1981).

Before I jump in, it needs to be said that people may also argue that even comparing stories within the same sub-genre is like comparing apples to oranges. But I disagree. I believe Dracula (1931) can be compared to The Shining (1980). Two films within the horror genre (not of the same sub-genre), but with very disparate stories. Even still, the central focus of blood, family, and control of one's mind could easily spark thoughts of comparison and contrast.

Black Hole's structure jumps around, and we never focus on one specific personal conflict or really get to know even one character very thoroughly. We get more of a wide vantage point in the story. Everything is skin deep. Whereas Zulawski's Possession structure focuses on a family and places them in a familiar and terrifying backdrop: West Germany with the wall as a large and looming presence, almost a character in and of itself. Possession gets under your skin, you become part of it's mania. Black Hole appears to be more interested in a scattershot of characters and experiences. Burns’ story takes the analogy that body-horror innately brings with it and uses it to focus on a coming-of-age story in high school. This is an obvious metaphor that does not have much depth to mine. The depth of one character’s disease is never felt because it is never directly penetrated to the “basement floor” of a character, and, because of this, I found Burns’ story forgettable. Zulawski’s Possession, on the other hand, starts in the middle of a story we know nothing about. Everyone is acting strange and the locations they inhabit are equally bizarre as well as bare. As we get into the film, the reason for the strangeness becomes deeper and deeper, more personal, and alienating. By the end of the film, our head is spinning with what is real and what is fake: both in what we are seeing, but also in a relational context. The film is about alienation of the self, of the other--family, friends, and everyone else, of a career, and of the state. It is an incredibly complicated, nuanced, and personal film. It’s effect stays with you and every time you revisit another layer is revealed.

Structure

The reason that I use a three-panel, per page technique is because I feel one of the primary things missing from comics is a structure in which to set the narrative so other aspects of storytelling can shine and provide layers to the plot and characters within. An example of some very rare techniques to find in a comic that are commonly utilized in film are consistent frame composition, understandable perspective of a location as well as knowing where a character is within it, a steady and consistent flow from panel-to-panel--that does not exclusively utilize close-ups with bare backgrounds--like smooth and seamless editing does in a great film.

Something nearly all comics have in them consistently is a plethora of random panels. Randomly placed, randomly sized, and often framed very close or showing little detail beyond the character at the focal point. Comics can be hard to read for the uninitiated and feel like the story is being told in a randomly presented and ordered way. From superhero to indie, this is just how comics are made. Good questions to ask a writer or artist of a comic (or to think about while reading any comic) is why is that panel placed right there? Why is it that size? Why is it that shape? Why is it focusing on that character or action and nothing else? What else is happening in the environment around the character I am looking at, and why can’t I see it? Search Youtube for a video essay on any famous director, and you will find a plethora of video essays describing why Stanley Kubrick, Wes Anderson, John Carpenter, or Chantal Akerman--to name a very few--shot and edited the way they did. I dare anyone to find a video essay on the structure of a very famous book like Alan Moore's From Hell (1999). (As of the writing of this I found several surface level reviews of From Hell, but not a substantial essay. For comparison there are at least five essay/theory videos on the first page of Youtube for John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982).)

Why is a plethora of seemingly random sized panels a poor layout strategy for a comic? It’s not. There are a multitude of comics that use this format to an amazing affect. But unless you are Osamu Tezuka, Dave Sim, Gabrielle Bell, Terry Moore, or Dash Shaw, odds are your comic will be cluttered, confusing, bloated, and underutilized.

Comics Vs. Novel Vs. Film

When read, a comic book is spread out over two full pages at once. This lets the reader subconsciously see both of the pages at once and in part. The reader can see what is coming, but having not yet read the two pages, there is no context for the information they have. This is an enormous advantage over film. Cinema is ruled by time and must share its information clearly, consistently, and adequately. If the information in the film is not delivered in this fashion, the story will come across too fast, too slow, too jumbled, or too confusing. A film tries its hardest to keep you under its spell, and when a component is off, at any time, you will be thrust out of the film.

Prose is hindered because it lives inside the reader’s head, and it’s easy for an author to digress down countless rabbit holes often muddying up a plot with too many details and too much information. A film is hindered because it has such a brief time to tell it’s story it must often rush through the details, leaving out many sequences from which the novel was derived. Comics have the opportunity to use techniques from both mediums, and use them better. The comic book can utilize the freedom and tools found in both novels and film. It can use prose to describe just as easily as it can use an image to tell the same story. It can use whatever it needs to to make the story clearer, more emotionally resonant, and intellectually stimulating.

A novel works very hard at communicating what an image can say instantly. A novel is not bound by time or physical space to work within, like a film. And unlike a comic it can and must describe, in subjective prosaic detail, what the author sees and intends for the reader to see. A novel is a unique and subjective experience because the format and structure of a novel can be radically different from author to author. A film has a given structure at which every filmmaker must work under. A novel has proven writing strategies and guidelines, but given that, Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow (1973) is a radically different experience compared to reading C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia (1950). Watching Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) is narratively very different than but structurally very similar to Pete Docter’s Monsters, Inc (2001). The difference between authors can be like the difference between a grand feature film William Wyler’s Ben Hur (1959) and a home-made five-minute-long Youtube video. Sure, they are both made by using a video camera, but beside that they couldn’t be more different.

Time

More than film, comics share a close relationship with television. Shows are often released a week at a time using individual episodes to sculpt the narrative arc of a season to tell one long story. This is very similar to what comics do, but instead they come out monthly, with less time to tell their story, as the average comic is roughly thirty pages--the average drama TV show is 45-60 minutes. In this way it could be said filmed narrative is more efficient than comics. But if you read a story by a master comic maker like Osamu Tezuka, every panel will give you so much uncluttered information, that the story doesn’t feel rushed or incomplete.

Another advantage the average TV drama has over monthly comics is that they are made and released in seasons. They are given a break to re-adjust, get some distance from, and fine-tune the following continuation of the narrative. Comics are typically unending monthly narratives. They are often made as quickly as possible, with little time to flesh out and iron out narrative and artistic wrinkles. If comics were released as seasons, with a proper amount of time to give space and breathe to the creative process, the average quality and it’s given control of a book would increase. Imagine a show like Breaking Bad (2008) never having any break between seasons. The writers, directors, and actors would become so exhausted and burned out. It would be easy to assume they would start viewing the process of the making of the show as a hill to climb and complete, instead of a journey to explore and spend time with. Comics rarely have this luxury.

No Right Way

Obviously, there are no “right” ways to make a comic, just like there is no “right” way to make a film, TV show, or write a novel. But over the decades of each of these mediums’, their evolution has increased and allowed for radically diverse approaches of creation. Comparing the short films of the Brothers Quay to a director like Stanley Kubrick is amazing in the radical spread of approach, sensibility, and sheer variety of perspective. Comparing a superhero story from the 30s to that of one of present day, or even comparing a contemporary superhero comic to the average contemporary indie comic, one will not find much difference in narrative content, structure, or approach to art.

I believe the three-panel technique is a way to address this common lack of growth in emotional richness and depth as well as structural complexity and integrity. By unifying the approach to panels, by focusing on perspective, and by providing a space for unique and specific location design the average comic reader will not be concerned with trying to keep up with a comic and what is going on in it. The reader will instead be enveloped by the story and art and get lost just like one does with a good novel or good filmed piece of art.

Final Thought

A final note on a unique aspect of comics is its two-fold use of image as a lexicon and comics as writing. Every day we see so many images and signs that we don’t even notice the majority of them any more. All it takes is the octagonal shape and red color, and we know we are to stop our car. All we need is a triangle on a remote, and we know that means “play,” just as a square means “stop.” We see stripes and patches of color, and we know it’s a country’s flag. These make up a lexicon of images that mean and communicate concrete thoughts and ideas--as in reading the combined image of letters spelling out “S-T-O-P” in sequence, we know exactly what to do.

In much the same way, comics are a powerful medium that often utilizes narrative and visual information, and all within a glance. See a costumed character flying with a fist outstretched, and we know this is a hero. If we see a figure with their head tilted down, eyes looking straight ahead while smiling, we know this is the villain. Film cannibalizes itself, referencing shots from films of the past, providing more layers and context to both shots. Film can’t take something like a simple shape, like a character’s body, or color in a rapid glance and tie it to a narrative that has complexity and purpose in the same way that a comic can. Film will always be locked into figures, stances, photographic composition, mise en scene, and editorial motion. Comics can and do deal with a wealth of symbols and images that are varied and unlimited. These symbols and images can be used in a narrative with an added layer of depth because of the use of image as lexicon.

When writing, like when playing an instrument, inspiration can strike, causing a speed and emotion to be felt, portrayed, and converted into art. Jack Kerouac’s prose, Thelonious Monk’s arpeggios, Allen Ginsberg’s poems, Jean-Michel Basquiat’s paintings--comics can achieve this level of spontaneity and locked-in emotion. Treating comics less like a piece of marble or a wooden chair and more like the sketch of a landscape or the initial draft of a song would be a healthy step in the right direction.

Comics can achieve something as close to the heart, as common, and as intimate as writing. Utilizing a lexicon of images to provide narrative information and context, comics can be written--not just drawn. The images themselves can be the words, and they can be written passionately, powerfully, and personally. They can be grand and heroic. They can be small and proletariat. They can be short, simple, and minimal. They can be complex, difficult, and long. Comics are amazing because they define what they are. They are cinematic. They are literate. They are visual. They are narrative. They are art. They are ours.

[jugandbettsdetectiveagency]

The Serpent and The Swan - Ch.8

My plan went a little further in this chapter originally but I’ve split it up so you’re not waiting as long for an update this time. I promise next chapter is filled with Betty and Jughead happiness, in the midst of all the drama!

Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch.5 / Ch. 6 / Ch.7 / Read on AO3

Jughead ached all over. His entire body felt sore and mistreated, and that was probably because it had been.

He should have known something like this would happen. All the hints his father had been dropping, telling him to wait and see. He’d waited, he saw, and then he’d had an entire cavern’s worth of rocks dropped on top of him, pinning him helplessly to the ground while everything else crumbled around his useless body.

Betty. Her name echoed relentlessly through his throbbing head as his mind tried to swim back into consciousness.

What he wouldn’t have given to be able to see her face in that moment, and not just in the hazy, unfocused images his subconscious was producing as he found a weight pulling him back into the murky depths of sleep. He wanted to be able to hear her delicate laugh, to feel the warmth from her shy smile pouring over his face as she looked up at him with bashful eyes. Those wide eyes – he’d never stop getting lost in their impossible depths, full of every emotion he didn’t think he was capable of being shown, let alone reciprocating. Jughead had only had the honour of feeling her soft, inviting lips against his own once, and it was a memory he was sure he’d carry with him until his dying day, no matter how far or soon that day might be.

He’d been so distant from her, despite the gaping chasm it caused to open up in his chest, threatening to swallow him whole. The sight of her in his doorway, those eyes like shattered sea glass as she begged for him to open up, to let her in, in every sense of the words, haunted him even now. From the moment Queen Alice had announced the death of the King he knew. The last little part of him that had been clinging to the notion that Betty’s father’s illness was mere coincidence buckled and fell, leaving only the doubtless knowledge that FP had been involved somehow. He wanted to have faith in his father, longed for it even. But he’d wished for things before and knew that the universe was never so giving.

He groaned as whatever carriage he was in juddered to a stop, a harsh wind chilling him as soon as the door was wrenched open and he was shaken roughly.

“Come on, get up,” a gruff voice ordered, and Jughead put every last ounce of effort into opening his eyelids. It took a minute for him to adjust, but he could see one of his father’s lackeys waiting for him to move, and the flickering, orange glow of firelight just over his shoulder. “We don’t have all night,” he barked when Jughead still hadn’t made to move.

He stumbled out on weak legs, half dragged, half falling towards the small house in front of them, signs of life visible from within.

“Here,” the man demanded, pushing on Jughead’s shoulders to get him to sink into the wooden chair in the centre of the room. He put up no fight as he felt his arms being tugged behind him, coarse rope scratching at the soft skin of his wrists as they were bound behind him. Every instinct within him called out to struggle, but the energy to do so could not be summoned. The back of his head thumped rhythmically, matching the beat of his heart pumping blood around his limp body, and he vaguely recalled the feeling of glass shattering with his impact before the world succumbed to inky darkness.

“What…” Jughead tried to talk but all that came out was a wisp of a breath, his throat dry and raspy. He tried again. “What’s going on? Where are we?” he croaked, trying to get his eyes to focus on something, anything while they attempted to roll back into his head. His gaze landed on something in front of the fireplace, cast into shadow by the roaring flames, and he wished he hadn’t bothered.

There, in a crumpled heap, lay his father. His eyes went wide, dry lips dropping open to release a whoosh of air. His muscles went rigid as everything but FP’s lifeless form faded away. In the dim lighting Jughead could see the unnatural angle of his arm as it folded over his stomach, the cuts and bruises strewn across his worn, aged skin, including the river of dried blood running down the side of his face, stemming from the open wound at his temple.

“Is he…?” Jughead whispered, unable to tear his eyes away.

“Dead? Not quite,” came a voice from over his shoulder, a voice he recognised. It was then that he noticed the shallow movements of FP’s chest, rising and falling with some difficulty, but definitely steady and consistent. A sharp pain erupted behind Jughead’s forehead as he tried to look for the voice’s owner, emitting a low grunt as he grit his teeth in an effort not to cry out. “Comfortable, little snakelet?” Mustang sauntered into view, an obnoxious sneer plastered across his features.

“Where’s my sister?!” he yelled, searching the room for any sign of her.

“She should just be arriving home by now, she’s being taken care of.” The words didn’t offer him any comfort, unsurprisingly.

“What are you doing?” Jughead grunted, tugging against his restraints as he felt the spinning of the room start to subside, his strength growing.

“Ahh, the young prince is in the dark. Been spending too much time with that Swan bitch of yours, have you?” Mustang sneered. Jughead felt his blood boil at the mention of Betty, lunging for the man in front of him only to be stopped by the bonds that held him fast. “I have to say, we didn’t plan for the two of you to actually fall for each other. Guess you must have more charm than we realised,” he laughed heartily, circling Jughead the way predator hunts prey. It was a common analogy whenever someone dealt with the Serpents; people weren’t equals to them, they were objects to be conquered.

“So, what was the plan?” Jughead tried to ask calmly, tilting his head as he looked up at Mustang questioningly. “Get an in, kill the King, and then what? Get hunted for murder. You weren’t exactly subtle,” he spit, upper lip pulling back over his teeth in distaste.

Mustang just continued to grin, something unsettling beginning to press on Jughead’s chest until he could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He strolled lazily over to FP, crouching on the toes of his boots as he gripped the unconscious man beneath the chin, fingers clearly pressing down on his airways. FP gurgled softly in his slumber.

“Nah, you see… That’s where this nice little scapegoat comes in,” Mustang murmured, jerking FP’s head up, lowering his face to hover over him. “There’s a benefit to having a useless piece of shit for a ruler. Easy to blame.” He looked back over to Jughead, teeth glinting in the firelight.

“Why? What do you get out of this?” Jughead asked, genuinely at a loss. Mustang stood up, running a calloused hand over his dirt-matted hair.

“You ask a lot of questions, kid,” he said, jabbing an accusing finger at him.

“Then answer some,” Jughead retorted, refusing to back down. That earned him a grim chuckle.

“You’ve got more balls than your father, I’ll give you that.” He pulled up a chair, twisting it so the back faced forwards and straddled the seat. “You see this?” He tugged up his already rolled sleeve, exposing the S-shaped serpent tattoo inked prominently on his forearm. It wasn’t unusual for those in close keeping with the court to brand themselves with such a symbol. Jughead was thankful that the matter wouldn’t be pushed until he reached eighteen, not rushing to mar himself with the mark of a place he hadn’t been proud of in a long time. Mustang’s fingers ran over the image, trailing pointedly over the scar running straight through the middle. It was long and white, winding distinctly through the body of the double headed serpent, end to end. The cut must have been deep. “This is the mark of the Wyrm. It binds us, keeps us together, and together we are sick of seeing some drunken coward run our homeland into the ground. It’s time for change and we’re here to see it through,” Mustang finished proudly. There were distinct mutterings erupting from the crowd, of agreement and solidarity for who Jughead assumed was their ‘leader’. He scoffed.

“So you kill the Swan King? Are you stupid? What does that get you? You’ve committed treason in not just one but two factions,” he said, nodding his head towards FP’s inanimate figure. “The High Council is going to have a field day sentencing you – all of you,” he shouted, casting his gaze around the room, straightening as much as he could in his chair.

“The High Council won’t be a problem,” Mustang grinned maliciously, tapping two fingers against his tattoo once more. Jughead’s nostrils flared as he understood the insinuation. Panic started to bubble in his throat. He willed it down, breathing steadily as he recalled the sensation of riding through the grounds of Castle Aeris with Betty on horseback, the summer breeze wrapping around them in a cloak of youthful abandonment. How was he meant to keep her safe tied to a chair in the middle of nowhere, like an animal in a cage? He didn’t even know how many days they’d been travelling to get here.  

“And what next? War? I’d like to see you try and get hold of enough resources to even get close to winning,” Jughead taunted. He knew the fastest way to get information out of Mustang would be to taunt him, to make him feel inadequate. It was working.

“It’s not that hard when you’ve got a backer,” he replied, all but flaunting his plan in the prince’s face. “And Clifford Blossom has been most accommodating.”

The Blossoms are in on this too, Jughead thought, mind racing. He thought back to all the visits that had brought Cheryl and her father to his home, King Clifford disappearing behind doors with his father to discuss any amount of unknown topics. Jughead knew he must not have done a very good job of hiding his horror because Mustang laughed freely.

“Not so smart now, are we?” he jeered. “Your father thought he was smart, too. All those meetings he took with King Clifford, talking about a union for the ‘strength and prosperity of our great factions’. Little did he know that union didn’t involve him, not in the slightest. You were never supposed to marry that perfect princess, you know? Your engagement to Princess Cheryl has been in the works for a long time. The plan just took a little detour, a way into the Swan’s nest so they could be attacked from the inside.

“FP just thought they were going to clean ‘em out, take them down by ridding them of their riches. He couldn’t wait; turns out he had a bit of grudge against their Queen for leaving him high and dry some years back.” Jughead’s brow furrowed. “He basically did all the work for us! All we had to do was swap the herb he was going to use to weaken the King for a slow working poison and that was it – one dead King. It was almost too easy,” Mustang joked. Jughead bristled; despite their less than favourable relationship, hearing these men talk about using his father this way sickened him to his stomach, almost as much as the thought of the bloodshed that was inevitably to come did. “Once King Clifford comes to power we’re going to get everything he promised us. Power beyond anything you could imagine,” Mustang bragged.

“They won’t go down without a fight,” Jughead tried, feeling himself losing with every second passing.

“Then a fight is what they’ll get,” Mustang retorted.

“I won’t marry Cheryl.” It was a last ditch attempt, said around a growing lump in his throat, words sounding thick and feeble even to his own ears.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have a choice, snakelet. Deal’s done.” He was looming over Jughead now, blocking all light from his vision as he towered over the prince, the victor taunting his conquest.

The room was silent save the bursting and crackling of firewood. Jughead had nothing left to say, no defences left to use. It was over.

He jumped at the sudden harsh rapping against the outside door, every man in the room reaching for their weapons as they took on defensive stances. Mustang gestured for one of them to go and open the door with a jerk of his head, readying his sword for the intruder. Jughead craned his neck, hoping beyond hope that his out was waiting just beyond the slatted wood. The door swung open, the lithe figure standing there bathed in moonlight.

“Hello, gentlemen. Thanks for waiting for me,” Joaquin said breezily, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Mustang strode over to him, placing the tip of his blade pointedly at the base of the man’s throat.

“We didn’t know where your loyalties lie,” he said suspiciously, sizing him up. Joaquin’s expression remained unfazed, but Jughead was sure he could make out just a hint of wariness in the depths of his friend’s eyes as he surveyed the room, resting on Jughead for no more than a second. He blinked and it was gone, settling back into his usual stoicism.

“I place my trust in whatever is best for my faction,” he said firmly. “And if that no longer includes our King then far be it for me to stop whoever tries to rectify that fact.” He spoke with a calm measure that almost had Jughead believing him. Almost…

Mustang peered at him for a moment longer, eyes searching his face thoroughly. He must have been satisfied with what he found for a moment later he lowered his sword, nodding quickly while stepping back to let Joaquin inside.

“And I can help,” Joaquin continued, placing his back to Jughead, hands clasped behind him. “I was able to hear some of what they are planning to do after you left the castle. No one pays much mind a servant,” he reminded them. A sly smile slipped onto Mustang’s face. He clapped Joaquin approvingly on his shoulder, imploring him to share what he knew.

But Jughead wasn’t concerned with that, barely noticing the interaction. His gaze was focused solely on Joaquin’s hands, more specifically his upturned palm. He’d unfurled his fingers slowly, the movement catching Jughead’s attention, and there, nestled in the palm, was a shaky but unmistakable drawing of a rose.

Jughead’s heart stopped before picking up again in double time. Betty, it could only mean Betty. Was she here? She was foolish, so foolish, if she was – she could get hurt? Jughead felt a swell of affection despite his worries, the thought of her glowing presence so close by making his head spin all over again. He could practically feel her warm skin against his hands, smell her sweet, floral scent. He tried to keep his reaction minimal, allowing the conversations around him to filter back in.

“So, go on. Tell us what they’re going to try,” Mustang said excitedly, almost bouncing on his feet with the idea that he’d have even more advantage over the enemy. Joaquin sent a look over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow at Jughead. Jughead nodded subtly in return and Joaquin closed his fist.

“Perhaps we should do it out of earshot of certain prisoners. Just in case,” he suggested smoothly. Mustang glanced over at Jughead as if he’d forgotten he was even there in all his excitement.

“Fuck, yeah you’re right,” he agreed, looking around the room.

“Allow me,” Joaquin offered, moving swiftly over to untie Jughead and haul him up, gripping his arms a little on the uncomfortable side of tight, keeping up the façade. He made a show of retying Jughead’s wrists, and Jughead could feel the give in the new knot that wasn’t there before. Joaquin shoved him over to the far side of the room, opening the door there and pushing him through.

“The window,” he mouthed to Jughead before slamming the door and plunging him into darkness.

Jughead spun round, wrenching his hands free the first second he could, using his fingers to search along the walls. There was just barely a sliver of moonlight pouring through the cracks in the shutters and he fumbled for a moment before pulling them open.

Not two seconds after he’d got the window open a face appeared and Jughead was breathless.

He didn’t know how many days it had been since they’d last seen each other but he knew that it was too many, regardless. She was just as beautiful as he had remembered her to be, more so, the images his fogged brain had conjured up not doing her elegance justice. Her golden hair was wild and windswept, eyes bright and frantic as she gripped at the windowsill, finding his face in the darkness.

“Juggie,” she breathed, and all other thoughts left him.

She reached for him, pulling herself over the ledge by her hands on the back of her neck, her fingers slipping into his hair as she crushed her lips to his. He wondered briefly if they’d ever slow down, be able to explore and taste one anther unhurriedly, without the overwhelming desire to take as much as the other was willing to give. He’d give everything if it meant never having to be parted from her.

Their lips found a sweet rhythm, pushing and pulling in a frenzied dance until they were both without breath, gasping into one another’s mouths without restraint.

“I’m sorry, Betty,” he panted against her mouth, bringing his hands up to cradle her flushed cheeks, feeling damp trails against his fingertips. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I just thought my father…” He couldn’t resist dipping in for one more kiss, pressing against her with a bruising passion, communicating every apology he didn’t have the breath left to say.

“It’s okay,” she chanted, over and over, soothing him gently. “I understand it’s okay.” Her fingers didn’t stop combing through his hair, pulling him back from the brink.

“Betty, it’s bad. What they’re planning… I’m not sure if we can fight it alone,” he worried, tracing every last detail of her in case…

Just in case.

The sea of jade in her eyes solidified with a steely resolve that he had never witnessed before, sending shivers branching out across his shoulders and down the expanse of his back.

“We’ve got to try, Jughead. We can do nothing but try,” she affirmed, eyes darting over his shoulder at the sudden noise from the other room. “Come on, we have to leave quickly,” she whispered hurriedly, looping her hands around his arms to pull him through the window.

“Where are we?” Jughead asked in a whisper as they ran away from the building, unfamiliar with his surroundings.

“About three days ride south of the castle,” she informed him, securing the saddle of the white and grey horse tied under a covering of nearby trees, hushing her when she started to whinny softly. Jughead smirked.

“I see my lessons have paid off,” he teased, folding his arms across his chest. Betty rolled her eyes, untying the rope with nimble fingers.

“You can congratulate yourself later,” she huffed, an affectionate smile accompanying her words. “Climb up,” she instructed.

Jughead’s couldn’t help but eye up the dark horse tied to the neighbouring tree, gaze flitting between it and the building they’d just left. Betty’s eyes flooded with sympathy, following his train of thought. She rubbed a comforting hand over his arm.

“We have to go, Jughead. Joaquin said he’d be fine, that he’d try and follow as soon as he could,” she assured him, but he could see the doubt in her eyes, feel the hesitancy in his own. With gritted teeth he nodded, mounting the horse, only looking back to help Betty up behind him. He had to have faith in his friend’s abilities. Either that or try and convince himself that the only way he could help him was to move forwards.

“The Blossom’s faction is to the west, the Andrew’s to the east. If we head towards the latter we can make it to Polly’s farm around noon,” she instructed him, pointing in the right direction before wrapping her arms securely around his waist. Jughead nodded, sighing as he relaxed against her touch, gripping the reins firmly to start their journey.

Betty filled him in on her mother’s story as they rode, understanding finally dawning on Jughead as he heard about their parent’s pasts. In return, he told her everything he knew about the Whyte Wyrm.

“The Blossoms,” Betty whispered against his shoulder. “Of course. Mother said she didn’t trust them, that they’d had a hand in bleeding our faction dry with bad investments for the past few years,” she told him dejectedly. He stroked reassuring fingers across the hands locked over his stomach, as much as he could reach in their current position. He felt her responding kiss against his shoulder blade.

“I think that’s where they must be heading next, and if they have more members of their group riding up from the south it would make sense for them to have a meeting point halfway between the two,” Jughead mused, referring to the house they’d departed from. Betty hummed in response.

“If they’re moving on to the Blossoms we only have so long to gather a resounding army. Castle Aeris is the weakest its ever been, its defences completely down.” She took a breath. “I say we head on to the Hounds as soon as we’ve rested at Polly’s, warned her what might be coming. They already have an alliance with the Ravens which makes them twice as strong as they already were and they should be willing to help us. No one wants a kingdom entirely run by Blossoms,” she muttered in disdain.

Jughead didn’t reply, too lost in thought. Something Betty had said struck a chord within him, manifesting itself as an idea that was rapidly growing by the second.

“Jughead, what is it?” Betty asked in concern, sensing something was off.

“What you said, about the Hounds already having an alliance… well, it makes sense. To try and strengthen the factions as much as possible while we still have the chance,” he began slowly. Betty saw the flush creeping up his cheeks as he spoke, confusion causing her brow to crease.

“What do you mean?” she asked again, stroking encouraging fingers across his stomach. He swallowed visibly.

“If there’s a legal tie between the Serpents and the Swans it might incite pause, make some people reconsider which side they want to fight for.” He took a breath. “We should get married, Betty. As soon as we reached your sister’s village I want to marry you. Partly for completely selfish reasons, like the fact that I’ve never been more certain of anything as I am that I want to live out the rest of my days by your side. And… with everything happening those days could be limited.” Betty frowned, not wanting him to talk that way but she didn’t interrupt him. “Like I said, the union might help us strategically but… also… I want you to be mine.”

Betty wished she could have seen his face more clearly as he spoke, desperate to see the way he would look at her with that unmistakable sincerity that she had grown so used to seeing emanate from him. She bit her lip against the grin that threatened to split her face, trying not to focus on the twinge of guilt that plucked at her stomach for feeling so happy and contented in their current circumstances. She just couldn’t help it.

“Yes,” she whispered, stretching up to plant a quick, promising kiss to any exposed skin she could reach. “Yes, Juggie, a thousand times,” she continued despite the emotion clogging her throat. His relieved laugh filled her with an overwhelming hope, that they could make it through this, and that they could be together. She clung to him tighter as they headed over the fields towards their next stop.

[that-shamrock-vibe]

Movie Review: It (Spoilers)

Spoiler Warning: I am posting this review two days after the movie came out in the U.K, so if you haven’t yet seen the movie don’t read on.

General Reaction:

Something is seriously wrong with me because the anxiety and nervousness I have had in trying to psyche myself up for seeing this movie has genuinely led me to believe I would have a heart attack while watching it, yet when the end credits started and the lights came up I was actually left feeling very happy with what I had just seen. Yes it was horrific in places and two maybe three scenes in particular I never want to see again which I’ll talk about further down when I talk about the jump-scares but when considering the movie as a whole I even thought those scenes were needed in order to make the parts I loved even better.

I would go so far as to say this is possibly my favourite horror movie, I’ve seen the 1990 miniseries with Tim Curry and I even had to psyche myself up to see that because of the fact I am someone, like Ritchie, who suffers from coulrophobia also known as the fear of clowns. Ever since I was a child I have hated clowns and when I was 12 or 13 I heard a quote that helped me realize why and that is “Beware of people who wear smiles as masks” which is a great life lesson in general but for me at the time when I heard that then thought about my fear of clowns who on the whole have painted on smiles. I think the only clowns that don’t particularly scare or creep me out are The Joker with maybe the exception of Cesar Romero from the 60s series who was made to look like a traditional clown as well as Jack Nicholson’s version because that guy just creeps me out anyway, and also animated clowns don’t scare me because they’re hand-drawn or computer generated so I know they’re not real, live-action clowns there’s an element of realness because they’re really there. It’s not my greatest fear but my greatest fear is the reason I’ll never see Annabelle.

This is actually quite a sophisticated horror movie much like A Nightmare on Elm Street in that it’s not just trying to bring a fear factor it is actually handling hard-hitting real-world issues and Pennywise is on the level of Freddie Kruger in terms of horror movie villains particularly in this iteration, in the 1990 version it felt like he was more an old pervert who had to wear a clown costume whereas here “It” was a performer, not just Pennywise but a Leper, a living painting, exorcist-looking zombie kids, this villain wore many masks and all in the name of him getting what he wanted which I feel is just survival.

1990 vs 2017:

So as I’ve mentioned, I have seen the 1990 miniseries starring Tim Curry. I was born in 1992 so since being very young I knew of the film’s existence but even the DVD cover and posters scared me because despite being a brilliant actor, Curry can be quite terrifying even in roles where it’s just him looking like him. But when it was announced that this more faithful version of the book was coming out I decided it was time to see it just so I could contrast and compare, also two of my friends had spent some time trying to decinsitise me to horror showing me movies like The Exorcist, the Final Destination movies, The Omen, Halloween and then the original It. Also it’s now been about a year since my friends started this mission which has actually been a great education. I’m nearly 25 years old and the only horrors I had seen prior to last year starred Johnny Depp or were musical-horrors.

I like the original It quite a lot, once you know what’s coming in terms of the lackluster jump-scares, because it is still a 1990 miniseries budget, then it is actually a lot of fun and quite funny in places. I haven’t read the original book because I have seen it and it’s the thickest book I’ve ever seen and I barely read novels. However as I mentioned above, this 2017 movie did scare me quite a bit but the scariest part going in was how intrigued I was to see it even though I knew it would scare me.

Characters:

So I’m going to talk about the characters in categories of story-significance and in the order of how much I liked them.

The Losers Club:

This movie may have been called It but as the film closes and the title comes up saying “It Chapter One” the subheading should be “The Losers Club” or “Losers” because the second movie is sub-headed “Pennywise” so will focus on Pennywise and this movie will focuses on the Losers Club.

Beverly Marsh:

The only main girl in the movie and she is the standout of the kids for me and I think a lot of people, I’m a guy and I can say that so I imagine in a similar vein to how Wonder Woman and Belle has spoken to a lot of female fans this year that Beverly will have the same affect particularly for young girls coming of age.

Firstly I couldn’t quite believe just how hard-hitting her solo story was, the school bullying was one thing but the fact they went full-book and tackled the father preying on her was so disturbing and in some ways scarier than a killer clown because while people can dress as clowns and kill people this sort of thing does happen and to show it in a horror movie is very apt.

Her cutting her hair was also a genuine flow because of what was happening and how she felt, although I did see it coming considering in the original she has short hair and her ponytail did look like extensions but again it was a very organic turn and kind of sadistically funny when you consider her hair is the same colour as Pennywise’s so when she was cutting it off and it was going down the plughole I did think Pennywise would somehow emerge from that, it’s a horror I expect everything to scare me.

Her encounter with It though was I think the only one that the miniseries got right, but much like I said Descendants 2 upped and improved what the first movie did, this reboot definitely plussed what the miniseries did from one small explosion in the sink to the bathroom being on it’s period. Which I wouldn’t use as an analogy if not for the fact that this scene symbolizes that exact thing.

But while that wasn’t a direct encounter with an actual horrific figure, her actual solo interaction with Pennywise almost caught me off guard because after she defeated her father and is standing there I realized that the scene in the trailer I thought was Stanley was in fact her...which doesn’t really say a lot for the fact I’m getting a boy and a girl mixed up. But I did like that it didn’t go directly from “Oh no Pennywise has Beverly” to “Oh no Beverly is mysteriously floating” we did actually see her talk with the clown and get to see his dead-lights before she floated.

Also, while she was apparently being wrongly accused of flirting and being sexual with a lot of guys, I did like how she came into her own with using her sexuality, both with distracting the creepy pharmacy clerk and also with her interactions with both Ben and Bill, although with Ben it wasn’t really flirting on her side it was more just being cheeky while Ben was failing at flirting but it does seem like she and Bill have a mutual flirtation going on. It does speak true to the original film where as an adult she kisses almost all of the losers upon their reunion.

Speaking of her adult version, I am very curious to see who they cast as the adult Beverly for the sequel; Annette O’Toole was one of four actors I knew in the original so I will be eagerly awaiting her casting and seeing if she can live up to Sophia Lillis here because while these kids and this cast in general are relatively unknown actors, that works in their favour because it allows them to make their mark and Bev definitely makes her mark.

My final thoughts are about a difference between the miniseries and movie because I can’t quite remember but I’m pretty sure that Bev never confronted her father in the miniseries, and if I’m wrong I apologize, because I don’t think the abuse story was shown in the miniseries. But here not only does she confront him but he dies, it’s not actually confirmed if the blow to the head she delivers to him kills him or if Pennywise kills him as it does seem that message “You Die If You Try” is written in his blood but just her having the inner-strength to confront her father may set her on a different path as an adult in order to potentially make better choices.

Ritchie Tozier:

You can see why Ritchie grows up to be a comedian, which he does in the miniseries but again that could change here. But the writing for Ritchie here is just so funny, way better than the miniseries. Right from the start he just has these witty one-liners and snipes at other characters that 99% of the time hit the mark, as with any movie there’s bound to be a dud every now and again but you forget about them instantly.

As I mentioned before I related to Ritchie in terms of clowns being his biggest fear, I actually related to three of the Losers; Ritchie, Ben and Bill, for different reasons though. Ritchie though had the worst Pennywise encounters in my opinion and yes I say encounters because both his encounters were my two least favourite scenes in the movie; the projector scene and the room full of clown costumes/mannequins. Although I did like his line when the other boys were realizing they had all seen Pennywise that he said “Is it only virgins who can see this thing”, interesting that Beverly didn’t mention seeing Pennywise because up to that point she hadn’t actually seen the clown.

I also think in a way Ritchie could be considered the least focused on because his encounters with Pennywise happened with the other Losers around and we didn’t meet any of his family or adults centering on him like some of the others’ family or the librarian who Ben dealt with. I don’t personally feel he was the least developed as I do think that was Mike because of the way this movie went but I’ll get to him further down.

With considering him as an adult, I am very much hoping they cast someone as comedic as Finn Wolfhard was here. I know the actor is in Stranger Things but I haven’t seen Stranger Things so don’t know about him prior to this but like I said I did really like him here. I don’t really have as much of an interest in who they cast as I do with Beverly and Ben but again he has to match what Finn did. Also Finn Wolfhard gave a much better portrayal of Ritchie than Seth Green did in the original for me.

Ben Hanscom:

Ben was very much the embodiment of me at that age, I’m guessing they’re about 12-13 here and Ben is very chubby as was I. Ritchie and Bill have troubles that resonate with me but Ben both in terms of looks and personality reminds me of me a lot.

The one thing I’m curious about is why the writers decided to give Mike’s main trait to Ben in that they made Ben the researcher of the group whereas in the original that was Mike. It makes more sense for it to be Ben because he was one of half the group to join the Losers during the movie so he had no friends prior and spent a lot of time in the library. I mean yes Mike also joined during the movie and in fact I think was last to do so but Ben strikes me as more of a bookworm here than Mike.

Ben’s encounter with Pennywise was possibly the creepiest one for me because while the headless man chasing him through the library storage maze did amuse me slightly in how he moved but when you heard Pennywise’s voice saying “Oi! Egg Boy!” and Ben turns around to see Pennywise chasing him that did genuinely make me jump.

I also loved the running gag about him liking New Kids on the Block, this movie was set between 1988 and 1989 which is the middle of the band’s original run and I’ve never had any interest in them but I take it from how they’re used in this movie that it’s uncool to like them. I loved the banter he and Beverly had first at the school and then in Ben’s room when she finds the NKOTB poster on the back of his door, quite funny.

Now with regards to Ben’s adult portrayal, in the original that role is taken by the late great John Ritter as Ben has slimmed down and is quite successful as are all the Losers, so for those who know that description are looking to cast someone maybe like John Ritter whereas fans of this movie that just know this movie are looking to cast someone like James Corden. If Corden can pull off an American accent I could see him in the role and it would be a great platform for him as well as a respectful change to the fact that I think Ritter is the only main actor from the miniseries who has sadly passed away, yes Jonathan Brandis who portrayed the younger Bill in the miniseries sadly took his own life about 15 years ago now which is tragic for someone so young but I digress.

Bill Denbrough:

Speaking of Bill he’s next on my list and the third of three Losers who I resonate with, Bill for his stutter because I suffered for a time with a stutter as a kid due to my fear of public speaking as well as being bullied at school. 

His Pennywise dealings were simultaneously the rather adult theme of dealing with the death of his younger brother Georgie, which was utilized better here than in the miniseries. For a start, Georgie in the miniseries was only shown at the start meeting Pennywise and that was it, you never see him again. Whereas here he is used as either an illusion or disguise by Pennywise, the first of which is the scene from the trailers which is the main time the movie uses the “You’ll Float Too” theme but also the trailer lies in that they just show “Georgie” angrily shouting “You’ll Float Too!” whereas in the actual movie you see him decaying into an exorcist-like zombie before being destroyed by Pennywise who then shrieks and charges for Bill, I think it was obvious those two scenes were linked by the trailer anyway but seeing it, even knowing it was coming, was still quite haunting.

Also the start of the final confrontation between Pennywise and the Loser’s Club is when Bill finally comes to terms with Georgie’s death because even though “Georgie” has his arm ripped off it’s not really Georgie, we as an audience know it’s not Georgie and are screaming internally at Bill not to get too close because we know something horrific may happen but then after actually saying goodbye to his brother, Bill shoots him in the head which is his way of moving on and possibly a glimmer of hope in actually killing the clown. Really powerfully portrayed and the fact that one line in the middle of the movie where Bill says “Going home scares me more than going into this old decaying house” where they’re sure Pennywise lives is a real turning point for the character because up until then I wasn’t really sold on him, I was still not fully sold on him by the end but more-so after that speech.

Now with him as a leader, I definitely think he had the best motivation for this crusade against Pennywise because he had a personal stake in his demise, but I do not think he fully had either the confidence or respect of the others maybe apart from Mike and Bev. Stanley literally said he hates him which he may have then laughed off but there must’ve been some truth in that, Ben is a love rival for him with Bev and Ritchie I think never respected any sort of hierarchy.

On the subject of the love triangle between him, Beverly and Ben, as I mentioned before it does seem as if Bill and Beverly coupled up at the end of the movie but I do feel there is more to come from that in the sequel because Beverly knows Ben is her secret admirer and he was the one who brought her out of her floating state but Bill seems to be the one she’s chosen. The best thing about this is I don’t think Bill has a clue that Ben likes Beverly or that Ben knows Bill likes Beverly. This is partly what is so great about this movie, this is very honest to how teenage lives are and was a great balance against the horror aspects of the movie.

From my knowledge Bill isn’t really a leader as an adult when the group reunites because Mike is the only one who remembers Pennywise due to staying in Derry while everyone else moves away but again with lessening Mike’s role and making Ben the researcher it could be Ben who’s the de facto leader or Bill could still maintain that leadership role. Jaeden Lieberher is the only actor in this movie credited above Bill Skarsgárd which I feel is because of his award wins for St. Vincent and I do think he was the right for the role, I know Ty Simpkins was considered for the role and I do like him as I’ve seen him in Iron Man 3 and Jurassic World but do not feel he’d fit for this particular role, maybe Eddie.

Eddie Kaspbrak:

Speaking of Eddie, let’s talk about Eddie. I definitely think this was a step-up from the portrayal of the character in the miniseries because while the hypochondriac with the overprotective mother role was still there, this version had him confront his mother about it while he was a kid, whereas in the miniseries he learns about the deception as an adult.

I loved the comedy that came with the hypochondria, while a serious phobia for people it does always provide for great comedy material and here it was both comedic and sensible. Sensible because a lot of what he was saying was actually true; when he freaked out during the projector scene and thought he was having an asthma attack saying that it’s summer and that they should be out having fun rather than dealing with a killer clown. Also when he breaks his arm and Ritchie or Stan are readying to pop it back in, the way he’s just like “Don’t you dare, don’t you dare!” is hilarious. Also either he or Ritchie made the joke saying that Ben was dying because of having that H scar thanks to Henry Bowers which was also funny.

His main encounter with It was It as a leper, which played on the hypochondria but also provided another character besides Pennywise for It to take on. Also Eddie got the double-barrels in his first encounter because he got both the leper and Pennywise and I do think the leper was either trying to lead Eddie into the old decaying house or round to where Pennywise was who was waiting there with his balloon arrow arrangement. Also when the group goes into the house to confront Pennywise the first time, Eddie falls down a hole and breaks his arm only to then see Pennywise emerging from a safe or a box by contorting himself.

When the pharmacist’s daughter, who was also Beverly’s main bully, tells Eddie that all the medication he’s been taking on orders by his mother are actually placebos, that’s very much his world shattering because yes there’s a killer clown out to get him who can also manifest itself as a disease-ridden carcass, but to find out that the one person who is supposed to protect him and care for him up until that point had been deceiving him for all that time must have been such a life-altering moment for him. I did love when he stood up to him and delivered that great line of mispronouncing placebos as gazebos because you could tell the anger was there but at the same time it’s coming from a 12-13 year old kid.

On that note, I don’t know where this leaves Eddie as an adult because he learns about his mother’s deceit as an adult in the miniseries and then has to deal with that because he’s still living with her as an adult. Now in this reboot he knows about the deceit as a child so it remains to be seen where he’ll be as an adult.

I can’t quite predict who any of these adult portrayals could be, maybe apart from James Corden as Ben, but I did like Jack Dylan Grazier in the role, I don’t know his works before this but do know his uncle Brian Grazier as he has produced some good films and TV episodes.

Stan Uris:

Stan was a great example of religion in movies, now as with most horror movies religion plays a massive part; I still remember Regan, being possessed by the demonic spirit, violently pleasuring herself with a cross in what is a hilariously disturbing scene. But also a lot of old-school horrors deal with possession, exorcisms and general religious claptrap. So the fact they not only have religion on display so prominently but a different religion to Christianity or Catholicism is quite nice to see.

His encounter with It was comically creepy because it’s like It guises himself as something from a Tim Burton movie, in this case a distorted painting resembling the Scream. However this did come into play later when It disguised himself as whatever the kid he faced was scared of the most and before the final confrontation scene, It seemed to get hold of Stan and either start biting or sucking his face. This is very important for the sequel as this resonates with Stan as an adult but in the miniseries it’s just the fact that Pennywise almost eats him whereas here it is his own personal fear in quite a traumatic experience which of course leads to Stan saying he hates Bill for putting him through that.

I’m not going to saying who I feel will be good for the adult version of Stan for the pure and simple reason that I don’t know if they’ll stick his story thread as they’re probably changing a lot based on this movie. But for those of us who know either the book and/or miniseries, we know it’s a very meaty and significant role.

Mike Hanlon:

Mike, out of all the Losers, was definitely the least developed in this movie. As mentioned before it’s largely because they gave the reporter role to Ben in this version rather than Mike which throws what they’ll be doing with Mike as an adult out the window but we shall see.

I liked how they played the “race card” with Mike in this movie because he and his family are seemingly the only people of colour in the movie and in the 80s, sadly as with today, that was met with hostility. It has improved overtime but if Luke Cage taught us anything it is that racism still exists in certain neighborhoods.

His encounter with Pennywise was interesting because it was Mike’s greatest fear which was his family’s final moments before they died burning alive, also it’s never confirmed if the house he is talking about is the house Pennywise inhabits, but much like Bill with Georgie to have your dead family members used to strike fear into you is so tragic. Also the fact it’s the first time we see the Losers encountering Pennywise and all we see is distorted silhouette with the glowing yellow eyes was very haunting, and later troubling for me because I spent the night at my friends’ place whom I saw this movie with, as well as a date, and my friends have these two candle holders that have a phosphorescent ball in each one which in the dark and at night look reminiscent of Pennywise’s eyes...the troubling part again is this should’ve freaked me out but didn’t.

Now I have mentioned that I can’t really cast the adult versions of these characters aside from James Corden, but not so much a possibly choice as fan-casting I would love to see Chadwick Boseman portray adult Mike because I do think Chosen Jacobs looks like a pre-teen Chadwick Boseman. I know Boseman has commitments to the MCU right now as Black Panther but I think it would be great casting.

It/Pennywise:

Now from the Losers to the villain of the movie, I loved this character as a villain, more-so than the Tim Curry version. Pennywise here was portrayed in such a way that not only was he quite intelligent but much like Freddie Kruger he was a villain the heroes could try to have a conversation with.

Right from the start when we first meet Pennywise and he interacts with Georgie, not only does Bill Skarsgárd give this rather demonic child-like voice but the way he spoke reminded me slightly of Yoda particularly when he ran introductions “Pennywise, meet Georgie, Georgie, meet Pennywise”. Yes he provided comedy but he was also trying to entice children and Georgie is 7 so how do you talk to a 7 year-old? Like a child.

Now with regard to the jump-scares, the worst one for me was in the projector scene; we’ve seen from the trailers that It takes control of the projector and shows slide after side showing a photo of Bill’s mother turning into Pennywise and then the projector stop-starting showing photos of Pennywise until he disappears, next thing you know a seemingly giant version of the character bursts from the screen. The only humorous takeaway from this is when he emerges he grunts and when he turns to face Stan he grunts, in my head all I was thinking because my mind was trying to protect me by thinking of something I liked and in The Rocky Horror Picture Show in the “Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me” scene when Magenta and Columbia are watching from the screen, the noises they make right before the chorus was similar to this. But this scene itself, I mean seriously Pennywise looks terrifying and larger than life.

When considering Bill Skarsgárd, as I mentioned in my review of Atomic Blonde which Skarsgárd co-starred in I really find him attractive but realizing who he is and who he’ll play I thought I was going to be stuck between the guy I think is attractive and the character he portrays who will give me nightmares but again the fear factor hasn’t lingered after the movie and while I don’t get the “sexy clown” angle because Swedish clowns are still terrifying to me but he himself is rather dishy.

As I said earlier when comparing the two Pennywise portrayals, this version especially epitomized how much of a performer the character is. Almost every time he has an encounter with the kids he’s putting on a show; whether it be artistic visually like his encounters with Mike and Beverly or artistically threatening literally with Stan or being a literal threat like with Ritchie, Ben and again Stan. Him using Georgie as an illusion at first was just that, an illusion, to lull Bill into a susceptible state to then pounce on him. The leper and living painting were very much actual threats as they were forms of It as Pennywise was.

Now this is only the first of two parts and we don’t see It’s true form until the end of the second movie but when Pennywise revealed his dead-light to Beverly by widening his mouth and showing that the light is on the inside with the screams of previous victims calling out, I thought that was both an amazing visual effect and a major improvement thus far to how it looked in the 1990 miniseries which was essentially a giant spider with headlights. 

Also, quite clearly I am guessing Bill Skarsgárd did not contort himself to fit into that box only to then reassemble himself and instead it was a professional contortionist body double or again amazing visual effects but just the artistry of how Pennywise entered a scene showcased how much of a performer he is, even when he revealed himself to Beverly in his lair and started dancing before she tried to escape showed that.

One of my friend’s who I saw this movie with has told me numerous times that he once had a dream where he had a conversation with Pennywise which he said was preferable to going to school and this was the Tim Curry version, but I can actually see myself having an intellectual tête-à-tête with Pennywise. When he tried striking a deal with the other Losers to leave and live if they left him Bill, I was genuinely impressed because usually these mass murdering horror villains take no prisoners or leave anyone in their sights alive. It made me all the more excited for the sequel, not only because we find out more about Pennywise’s history but also because the kids will be adults they should be capable of holding a conversation.

As I’ve said, Pennywise is one of my favourite horror movie villains which shows a considerable malfunction in my brain considering clowns are my second greatest fear but he definitely left an impression both minor-league traumatizingly and also impressively.

Bowers Club:

Henry Bowers is an absolute sociopath, I mean seriously this teenager needs to be institutionalized with a straight jacket and very tight straps constricting him. I was surprised the movie went so far as to show Henry starting to carve his name into Ben’s stomach. Even his cronies were shocked by that yet he was adamant in doing that but it wasn’t a controlled adamant facade, it was genuinely a child wanting control. Again along with the changes from the miniseries; Pennywise didn’t age-up Henry and 27 years later recruited him as a footsoldier, he instead was recruited by Pennywise getting him to kill his own abusive father which seemed to make something in his brain snap and got him to go after the Losers, particularly Mike. Bowers seemed to show particular hatred towards Mike and Ben but hated all the Losers regardless. I am also quite shocked his role in the movie ended by him falling down the well and seemingly dying, if they did somehow bring him back for the sequel I imagine Pennywise will have a hand in it but the guy ricocheted off the walls during the drop so it’s almost certain he’s dead or critically injured.

I found his cronies to be bland at best, the most interesting for me was Patrick who falls victim to Pennywise. The others just seemed like every other stereotypical one-dimensional Stephen King created bad boy created. including the ones from the miniseries. It’ll be interesting to see if the surviving members return for the sequel to avenge their fallen leader or if they just disappear.

Adults of Derry:

I was fascinated by the grotesque and unsavory portrayal of pretty much every adult in Derry. It will be interesting to know if this is just how we’re seeing them through the eyes of the kids or if this is how they actually are but I have said before that if Stephen King has taught me anything it’s that if/when I get the chance to go to America I’m avoiding Maine, because I doubt I’ll find Storybrooke around there.

Beverly’s father, the pharmacist and Eddie’s mother especially are three prime examples of how grotesque this town is. The fact the pharmacist is basically a seedy pervert towards Beverly is quite creepy although he could just be a seedy individual the perversion could just be read into. Beverly’s father on the other hand met a very deserving end and I always give credit to actors who portray hateful characters because they’re probably nice people in real life so props to Stephen Bogaert for portraying such a grotesque individual. Eddie’s mother is both grotesque to look at and has a very unhealthy purse-string attachment to her son where she would go so far as to let Eddie grow up feeding his hypochondria.

Other parents like the fathers of Bill, Bowers and Stan weren’t shown as bad people to the same degree as the other three were; Bill’s father was trying to make his son come to terms with the death of his other son, Stan’s father’s greatest crime is not being encouraging enough and Bowers’ dad I’m guessing knew about his son’s antisocial behaviour and yes went about it the one way by using the gun against his son but was just trying to put his son on the right path.

Other adults like the librarian and Mike’s uncle weren’t good people but also weren’t terrible people either. I’d just be fascinated to know if when the kids are adults and return to Derry if the adults are still shown in the same light.

My Cinema Experience:

So I know I often talk about my cinema experiences but I only do it when there’s reason to and my first horror cinematic experience is very much reason to. Now of course a recurring theme throughout the movie are the red balloons Pennywise carries around either singularly or as part of a performance piece. As the movie started and the opening company logos rolled, there is a figure in a yellow raincoat and hood with a red balloon facing the screen as the balloon floats there reminiscent of Georgie. The disturbing part isn’t that this figure appears in the cinema screen at various points of the movie it is that when we get a look at him in the foyer he’s a rather short old man...creepy as hell! Also on a side-note, I’ve had “99 Luftballons” in my head all day not just because when I woke up this morning a red balloon my friend acquired from the cinema was left floating next to the sofa I was sleeping on.

Overall I rate this movie a strong 9/10, there were some acting choices I wish weren’t made because they almost pulled focus from the actual brilliance in the movie but this is not only my favourite horror movie but a surprising favoured movie from 2017.

So that’s my review of It, what did you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Movie Reviews and other posts.

[rikka-zine]

Interview with PhD candidate Brian White (part 2)

(Jump to Part 1)

RZ: You wrote that you plan to pursue some issues through a study of 20th and 21st century Japanese SF literature and film. To be honest, I was surprised how broad it is. Can you talk about the topic of your research?

BW: When I first proposed my dissertation topic to my committee, I said to them that I wanted to do kind of an historical overview of science fiction in Japan and that I would look at three historical moments. I wanted to look at the interwar period and detective fiction and horror fiction and those sorts of ancestors of science fiction before science fiction was really recognized. I had studied that period a lot during coursework, so I had those materials as a kind of base, and whenever you read histories of Japanese SF, it always starts with those predecessors. After that, I would look at the ‘60s and through the early emergence of sci-fi, and then I would take up the ‘90s or the early 2000s, when the economic bubble burst and science fiction in the form of anime or manga and pop culture started to really be exported actively by the government. They all looked at me with this horrified look on their faces... “What are you thinking? You can't do all of that! Listen, why don't you just focus on the ‘60s. That will be enough for at least one dissertation.” So I really had to try to narrow my focus.

I think I didn't have a very deep understanding of any particular period. It was sort of a dissertation that I was proposing to help me get a broad-level understanding of sci-fi even if not particularly detailed at any given moment.  But I felt like I personally wanted to have a perspective across history before I went into any one moment because I felt like every time I looked at [existing] writing about sci-fi, it drew on an assumed understanding of the macro-scale shape of sci-fi across history. There was this vast background knowledge that everyone seemed to have that I wanted to get. I didn't feel like that [knowledge] was really present in English language writing. I felt like English language writing in academia tends to focus on one text [at a time], and if you just go one by one, you're never going to get a broader understanding of it. And like I said, a lot of it was approaching things from the perspective of genre, of looking at sci-fi anime or manga as sci-fi first, rather than as anime or manga first and foremost.  Because they were seen as this thoroughly modern form of pop culture that was somehow indelibly linked to the ‘80s or ‘90s. I didn’t see it that way, because there were all these Japanese writers talking about texts as far back as the 19th century as being connected to this Cool Japan moment that everyone in America was suddenly now thinking about. 

Everyone was really taken with this notion of Cool Japan and really focusing on it to the exclusion of all else, and I wanted to try to link it up to a broader history. But of course as you said it became much too broad, and I think my committee was probably right that it would lose a lot of persuasiveness in trying to be so broad, that a lot of important details might drop out.  I still kind of have to do both in that I need to have a historical overview of science fiction in the back of my mind as I talk in more detail about a specific moment; I just also have to dive more deeply into that specific moment. Writing a dissertation is challenging!

RZ: Why do you focus on the ‘60’s?

BW: I think just after the Occupation era with the emergence of things like SF Magazine in 1960 there seemed to be a new kind of blossoming consciousness about sci-fi. Sci-fi suddenly took on this concrete shape that people could recognize and call “Sci-Fi.” Until then, there hadn't been a term to talk about SF, but starting around 1958 the genre really came into focus as a self-identified entity. 

By 1960, there was a resurgent magazine publication culture surrounding SF after the Dark Ages of the war and postwar - as you know, publishing was very restricted during wartime because of paper shortages. I think as folks like Isaac Asimov started getting translated into Japanese, you got that kind of consciousness of, “This is a movement that’s happening in the West, and maybe we can do it, too.” You start to get debates about questions like “What is SF?” It was the birth of science fiction and also at the same time of discourse about science fiction.

And there were these ideas about science and culture and prestige that I was interested in trying to compare with those early 20th century writers to see whether there was any similarity between their works and later science fiction in terms of their underlying philosophies.  I had it in the back of my mind that Tanizaki Jun’ichiro would be helpful in theorizing a history of science fiction as this kind of doppelganger to mainstream high literature, since science fiction has long had a fascination with prestige.  I came across that fascination in the earliest issues of SF Magazine when I first had a chance to see it in the months before I finalized my dissertation proposal. When somebody gets nominated for an official or literary award, it's big news in the sci-fi magazines because it is, at least in my interpretation, a kind of proof that sci-fi literature is highbrow literature. That it does have that kind of prestige and cultural value. 

I think I was interested in figures like Abe and things kind of on the margins – though he’s not really even on the margins, but instead something closer to a trickster figure.  Similarly, I have this thesis that sci-fi is very concerned with, very interested in technology and media. I think that’s exactly why Tanizaki and Abe were fascinated by new media like film and radio.  I think Tanizaki’s habit of thinking about the supernatural side of new media made him a very sci-fi-esque author. A lot of my interest has always been how technology appears within science fiction and how it interacts with humans on a very physical level. I think in that sense technology is rarely this objective, quantifiable, stable entity. Science fiction is more willing to treat it as strange. Computers can be haunted. Even looking at texts nowadays, there’s often that weird “something” that exists within what’s supposed to be a very rational, predictable kind of machine.  In that sense, I see a link between science fiction authors of today and the more literary [proto-]SF of the past. 

On the topic of Cool Japan, incidentally, I think it could be interesting to do research on tabletop roleplaying games (TRPG) as my second project. In America, usually, when scholars talk about games in Japan, they’re talking about video games, but there’s a robust community of Japanese tabletop gamers playing board games and roleplaying games.  These sorts of analog games tend to get missed by the Cool Japan focus on console video games. I am a little bit cautious, though, since it is a personal hobby of mine, as well. I don’t want to turn it into work.... into something tiresome.

One of the things I found interesting is the first issue of SF Magazine. Fukushima Masami, the editor-in-chief, wrote the preface. He was discussing the question of, "What is SF?" and the things he kept emphasizing was intelligence. He defined sci-fi as a literature of intelligence. There was the idea that sci-fi is written and read by intellectual people, and to that end SF Magazine would have educational columns like how the universe works and the latest scientific and technological discoveries, popular science and so on. That was very interesting to me. As a result, award-winning titles seemed to secure SF’s distinction as intellectual literature. For example, Tobi Hirotaka and Itoh Keikaku (Project Itoh). Those authors are very intellectual and ask big questions of their readers. I think the Nihon Fantasy Novel Award is similar, as well. 

RZ: I think it is true that a number of Japanese SF novels focus on speculative questions and philosophical issues like identity, what is humanity, what is god... By the way, have you read Stanislaw Lem?

BW: No, I’ve been focused on Japanese SF. I really hope to read more Western SF. Because they were in conversation with each other quite a bit in this period. But I feel like have my hands full just sticking to Japanese. Asimov and Dick and all of those I need to read more.

RZ: I see. Lem is quite popular in Japan and I wonder if it’s because of the taste [for philosophical issues].

BW: Oh, one thing that interests me in my research is that, at the time, Soviet SF was also very active [in Japanese publications]. It’s interesting to see a comparison of how much Soviet SF was brought to the United States in the Cold War era. I was surprised how much Soviet SF was appearing in SF Magazine and in Soviet SF special issues or Stanislaw Lem issues, all the different authors. Obviously, they also did features on US SF or UK SF. I even found an Italian SF special!  Japan was in a complicated position back then: an occupied territory of the USA but next door to the Soviet Union. The SF Sakka Club (SF Writer’s Club) traveled back and forth quite a bit, and Fukushima Masami and some other members visited the Soviet Union. Lem came over [to Japan] at some point. There was quite a bit of exchange. But there was never any talk of, say, a Chinese SF issue. Probably because there wasn’t that much production of SF in China at that time. 

RZ: No, there wasn’t ever a Chinese SF special issue in that era. However, I think the late Shibano Takumi (1926 - 2010) kept in touch with Chinese SF professionals from early on. (Note: I found that he attended an SF Convention at Sichuan, China in 1991.) He was an English translator and his specialty was American SF, but actually, he also seemed to communicate with Chinese SF professionals. As you might know, Mr. Shibano was one of the members of the International SF Symposium (which was held in Osaka, Japan in 1970. Arthur C. Clarke attended, among others.). US, UK and even the Soviet Union's authors were invited. Anyways, Chinese SF has become common in Japan only recently.

BW: Yes, you know in the '70s, “International SF” special issues always just mean the US, UK, and the Soviet Union. Just Anglophone and Russian, that's all. Almost no mention about South East Asian, African, even Australian SF. 

1969's “Rhapsody in Sunglasses”（「色眼鏡のラプソディ」）by Tsutsui Yasutaka is a sort of metafiction in which a fictionalized Tsutsui receives a huge manuscript from an American kid with a letter saying, “I wrote a future political satire, but magazines in America wouldn’t take it. Translate it into Japanese and publish it in Japan.” The fictionalized Tsutsui contacts a character who is obviously supposed to be Itoh Norio (translator) and asks him to translate it. He comes back a couple of weeks later with only the first three chapters and says, "This is disgusting! I cannot do anymore! It’s terrible!!" The manuscript is a cartoonishly racist, stereotypical depiction of Japan and China. Japan and China go to war with each other in what the author (the kid) calls the Second Sino-Japanese War - ignoring the fact that World War II was already the Second Sino-Japanese War. (laughs) I am not sure what sort of stance Tsutsui is taking, but I like to think he is gesturing toward a broader community that Japanese Sci-Fi authors could be creating, working with Asian countries rather this stupid American kid.  But I don’t know. That has been one of the only examples I have been able to find of China even appearing in that period. I imagine there must be more, but I’ve had trouble tracking it down. 

So the sorts of bodies that appear in sci-fi in that period are Japanese bodies. Mostly male. Heterosexual. Always scientists or authors. I think it’s revealing what kind of community SF authors imagine. I want to find counterexamples, people trying to do other things. But it seems like the way the community was set up, it would be hard to [publish those sorts of works]. Tsutsui reigned over his magazine Null, and Fukushima reigned over SF Magazine, and they mostly published their preferred kinds of styles. I’m trying to make an argument about something a bit more uncommon. But I remain hopeful [that I will find more].

RZ: I had read that 70% of the members of SFWA (SF Writer’s Association) are male, and I guess the rate of the broader Japanese SF community is much worse.

BW: Almost entirely [male]. For the first ten to twelve years of its publication, SF Magazine had no feature stories by female authors. Women occasionally appeared as translators, and then SF Magazine did a [flash fiction] promotion with Pilot Pens where there were a couple of women (or people writing under female names. I couldn’t immediately find any evidence whether they were male authors’ pen names or not.) In fanzines, it is a little bit better. 

RZ: Definitely. Especially looking at the readers’ letters columns, we can see many female names.

BW: I was very interested in the author Bien Fu (美苑ふう). She was a former aristocrat and seemed to derive her penname from the Battle of Dien Bien Phu at the end of the first French Indochina War, which I found absolutely fascinating. (laughs) I’m reading all the stuff I can find, most of which Tatsumi sensei has given to me. One of the things I was excited about was fanzines that included photos and reports of conventions that showed that there were some women attendees, too. Women were there amidst the sea of men!

The community was a boys club, with men bringing together stories by and for men. I think that’s related to the ideas of intellectualism Fukushima Masami was pushing, the idea that intellectualism was the province of learned men. Which is unfortunate, obviously. 

Kotani Mari sensei told me, "If you want to find female authors of sci-fi, you have to take up manga in Japan," which is another reason why I am really interested in notions of media mix. Other media open up new avenues for non-male, non-straight, non-Japanese authors to try to get work out. That’s one of the things I will focus on in the next couple of months - manga magazines that published SF. 

RZ: In addition to manga, I think many Japanese women write SF in the fields of children's literature, Young Adult, and light novels. I believe some of these are actually good SF. Just because they weren’t published by SF publishers, they’re invisible [to SF audiences]. That’s why these kinds of works don’t receive SF awards. 

BW: That makes sense. Those sorts of institutional structures reinforce rigid definitions of certain types of SF as “proper SF literature.” Because the literary environment was already so closed off as a male space, SF became an echo chamber for male authors, in which only the things they liked counted as high-brow SF. Forms of SF written by other types of authors were thus ignored. I think it is unfortunate on the one hand, but from a purely academic perspective, it is kind of interesting to see how media and discourse interact in that way. 

RZ: Ten minutes left. Besides Enjoe Toh or Tobi Hirotaka, do you have any Japanese authors you’re especially interested in?

BW: I would like to read more of Itoh Keikaku (Project Itoh)’s work. I have a couple of his books sitting at home, waiting to be read. And I think... Fujii Taiyou, Ohara Mariko, Ueda Sayuri. I read The Cage of Zeus, and I found it quite interesting. It is a little bit pedantic, but it has a strong plot.

RZ: Her other novel, Karyu no Miya is a bit different. I like it better. It won the Nihon SF Taisho Award.

BW: Oh really? I would like to read more of the recent stuff. And you know, one thing I feel is...maybe it’s the same in Japan, but at least in the US, I feel like sci-fi is really diffusing into almost every genre.

RZ: You mean like American War by Omar El Akkad or The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead? Indeed, many mainstream authors write science fiction these days.

BW: I am really interested in why that might be. Perhaps people feel like they’re living in a more SF-like world and SF just makes sense as the language used there? I play video games sometimes, and it seems like three out of every four videogames that come out these days have some kind of SF element.

RZ: Apocalyptic or Dystopian settings, right?

BW: Yeah, and we have films like Arrival. That one is so good.

RZ: Or Interstellar, The Martian...we have good SF movies in these days.

BW: I have to say, the one I was remember most from when I was in college was Inception. 

RZ: That's a good movie.

BW: I liked it, but I was also a little bit disappointed. Because I felt like Paprika had already done that story better. (laughs) And Paprika has colors! This is a story taking place in dreams. Inception, why is everything grey? Everything is brown and grey, come on! You can be more daring! Maybe it’s just the limitations of live action. But anyways when I saw it, I wanted to go home and see Paprika again.

RZ: Thank you very much!

[perfectzablog]

How Genrefication Makes School Libraries More Like Bookstores

For 12 years Jennifer Taylor watched kids come into the library at McCaffrey Middle School in Galt, California and struggle: “We’d have rows and rows of books, and they don’t know what to pick.” Students would just wander, she said, sliding out a random spine and, if they found the book’s cover appealing, reading the blurb on the back—usually to their disappointment. After a while, they’d ask her something like, “Where are the scary books?”

Taylor started pulling out her top titles in different categories, making a tabletop display of Mystery books here and Sports there. When she had to box everything up for a remodel anyway, she searched Pinterest and discovered “genrefication,” a movement to organize schools’ libraries by type, like bookstores. Little did Taylor know, she’d stumbled upon a hotbed of controversy in the world of library science.

Under the Dewey Decimal System that revolutionized and standardized book shelving starting in 1876, nonfiction essentially already gets the genrefication treatment with, for example, Music located in the 780s and Paleontology in the 560s. Yet most fiction is shelved in one big clump alphabetized by author’s last name. Under this rubric, a child who liked “The Hunger Games” could find its sequel nearby, but they’d need sophisticated search skills to identify “Divergent” as similar and then find it using a call number.

Many librarians say the “search hurdle” imposed by Dewey classification (a system originally designed for adults) significantly reduces the odds of a child finding something new they’re likely to enjoy. In a genrefied library, on the other hand, a young reader standing near a favorite book need only stick out a hand to find more like it. (It’s a bit like the analog version of Amazon’s recommendation feature: “Customers who bought this item also bought”)

Since genrefication enables one book to serve as a gateway drug to the next, its fans say it encourages literacy—especially for those least likely to effectively scan a book’s summary or master catalog search: struggling readers, students not yet fluent in English, and those with learning disabilities. Illustrated signs demarcating each section and color-coded spine labels provide these kids with visual cues that render them more self-sufficient. Meanwhile, the argument goes, others can still use the catalog to locate favorite authors across genre.

“It used to be when a class would come in,” Taylor said, “I’d have a line of 10 kids that needed to ask me, ‘Where’s this book?’ Or where’s this or that.” After genrefication, she said, “some periods came in, and there wasn’t one kid that needed to ask me anything, and they all found books in half the time.” A child who previously floundered “went right over to the Humor shelf, and it took about 30 seconds,” she added.

Kindergarten teacher Sandra Lampear sorts picture books by subject matter at Rooftop School in San Francisco. (Gail Cornwall)

Genrefication is also said to highlight usage patterns and gaps in inventory, allowing librarians to better tailor their offerings to students’ needs. Taylor was able to purge a third of her collection as she discovered just how many books fell into categories the students didn’t care about; she also realized McCaffrey had far too much Fantasy and not enough Adventure. Blogging on “Beyond the Shelves,” Christy Minton tried to rally other librarians: “Instead of purchasing books that you think your patrons will like, why not start ordering books you know teens will love!” Data-informed curating doesn’t just serve kids better, Minton pointed out; it’s a savvy play in a school climate where budget-cuts rein: “A busy library is a funded library.”

Librarians wield circulation statistics to support their claims of genrefication success. Leigh Collazo, otherwise known as “Mrs. Reader Pants,” reports a 36% increase after she genrefied a middle school library in Fort Worth, Texas in 2011. The team of librarians at New York City’s Ethical Culture Fieldston School also reported “dramatic increases in circulation” in a School Library Journal article entitled “Are Dewey’s Days Numbered?”

Though data on how widespread the practice is aren’t readily available, Tamra Marshall, a certified teacher librarian at Rooftop School in San Francisco*, said the notion that genrefication may be better is “the current thinking in the school librarian world.” But Marshall hasn’t yet tackled the project because, as she put it, “We just do not have the man/woman-power to take on a switch, especially since most schools only get a part-time librarian.” In a popular 2013 article Jocelyn Sams elaborated, “I have a full schedule of classes on most days, and I don’t have an assistant. I can barely get my books shelved in a typical week, let alone redo thousands of labels and change the online catalog.”

Some take advantage of a transition, like Taylor who sorted her collection during a three-week winter break and then completed the project over the following month with help from another staff member and a few students (plus about $500 for new labels). Collazo said she worked on the reorganization alongside an aide and about 10 eighth-grade students a little each day for four months. Others report shortcuts like using books’ copyright pages or Goodreads listings to quickly select a genre. But there’s no question that time and effort stand as barriers to implementation.

Genrefied shelves in the library at McCaffrey Middle School in Galt, California. (Jennifer Taylor)

The Dewey-loyal also oppose genrefication in principle for, interestingly enough, the same reason others support it: self-sufficiency. Sure, they argue, kids might be better able to find a book independently in their school library, but what happens when they go to the public one? When they get to high school? Each library shelving books according to its own system is exactly the problem Dewey set out to fix, and it’s one that’s particularly problematic for high-mobility kids who move from school to school, they say.

That’s why the American Association of School Librarians hasn’t taken an official position on the “white-hot” topic, said its current president Steven Yates, despite “spirited discussion” at the group’s biennial conference and in the “Dewey or Don’t We” issue of its print magazine. “It really comes down to meeting your community’s needs,” he said. In a school with a fixed schedule and generous amount of library time, for example, “there’s time for a lot of library-skills instruction,” and in that setting, he said, “Dewey can be something that can be a lot easier to adopt.”

Even then, the New York City librarians wrote: “Having moved away from an old system of organization that demanded that a significant portion of our teaching time was spent on simply finding books, we’re now able to concentrate on talking with our students about books, as well as teaching them critical thinking and assessment skills.” So the decision could come down to a pragmatic consideration of resource availability and student body composition, but it might also touch the soul of the field: What ought the core mission of a modern school librarian be?

The debate has led to compromise positions. Some leave books for older students in the Dewey arrangement while genrefying for younger ones. Other librarians rearrange middle readers and young adult books but leave picture books shelved by author since it can be unclear how to categorize a story about a duck driving a tractor. (Animals? Transportation? Fantasy? Librarians have gotten creative with multifaceted books such as “Twilight” which qualifies as both Romance and Paranormal. Some report letting students vote at the get-go; others assign a genre and then encourage kids to lobby for a switch.)

Collazo took things in the other direction. She de-Deweyed many of her nonfiction books as well, moving, for example, Parapsychology and Occult to sit alongside scary fiction books: “Students didn’t tend to find the 133 section before, but boy do they find them in the Horror section.” That’s a move others who genrefy say better aligns libraries with the Common Core curriculum.

Back in Galt, Taylor’s new classifications continually evolve. What she initially dubbed Drama morphed “basically into Chick Lit,” and she created a small shelf dedicated to the Holocaust, a focus of school assignments at McCaffrey. Each change is made with one goal in mind, she said: “So they don’t waste a week reading a book that they end up not liking and can’t finish.”

“I really try not to come down on any one side,” AASL’s Yates reiterated, but then added, “I just think that I’ve not seen people that’ve gone to genrefication then go back.”

Note: The author’s children attend Rooftop Elementary and she is a member of the school’s PTA and School Site Council.

How Genrefication Makes School Libraries More Like Bookstores published first on https://greatpricecourse.tumblr.com/

[mondofunnybooks]

The thing is, come 2006, funnybooks just weren't very Funny.

Not intentionally, anyway.

Of those of us who once read Dave Sim's opinion piece in Hero Illustrated that suggested all ongoing superhero comics are best read as some kind of Rodney Dangerfield routine, then comics were doing their outright best to be utterly hilarious.

Infinite Crisis attempted to fix the Continuity as if the history of Fights N Tights were some kind of sacred text that required updating in case serious questions were asked on how Batman could possibly be fighting crime if his book debuted during World War 2 because that would put him in his 70s! Superboy-Prime also debuted in that series, apparently meant as an Evil Mary Sue by DC Editors rather miffed at this invention called 'The Internet', which would allow readers to voice their thoughts on comics they'd paid for. We regard Superboy-Prime as our spirit animal.

Civil War was a Very Serious Effort to marry the themes of military abusing power in an attempt to detain terrorist suspects by having Iron Man throw people who wouldn't reveal their secret identity to the world into another dimension. This would be followed a couple of years later with an analogy for Guantanamo Bay and the new distrust for Muslims brought about by the events of the 9-11 strikes. (mainly featuring green aliens from space pretending to be Jarvis The Butler. And possibly Ant-Man. We forget. )

Oh, Elektra turned out to be a Skrull as well, so that was good, but sadly Marvel wouldn't go as far as to say that literally every appearance of Elektra that wasn't written by Frank Miller was actually Skullektra.

Meanwhile, Marvel punished retailers the world over for a plot point being revealed on a comic news website by not sending their main purchaser preview copies anymore. Because what every comic retailer dreads is being denied the opportunity to order more Marvel stock.

So, yes, an absolute plethora of material worth parodying and humbugging to go mad over, panic trumping a desire to be sick and crazy over the whole madhouse.

It's just that weren't many voices left to actually do the lampooning. MAD Magazine had long been defanged by it's sale to Warner Brothers decades previously, all the good writers on our beloved Twisted Toyfare Theatre had been snapped up to work on Robot Chicken, Amazing Heroes had been cancelled, Gary Groth had been less of a editorial voice on The Comics Journal for a while by that point and Harvey Kurtzman had passed away a long time ago.

I mean, there was Wizard, but they'd been shown to back off whenever advertisers had issues with their soft touch so weren't really worth mentioning in the first place unless you considered mocking comics from the 70's for not conforming to the norms of a 90's audience the very cutting edge of comedy commentary.

So imagine this writer's surprise to see a magazine advertised in possibly Comic Book Artist (Now Comic Book Creator, a magazine published by Two Morrows Press and readers are advised to get as many back issues of it as possibly. Learn how the late, lamented, iconic and possibly best comic shop in London, otherwise known as Comic Showcase, was probably responsible for League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen being published!) called 'Comic Book Nerd'.

Comic Book Nerd appeared not to be mucking around. Preview art offered educated attacks on modern comics anatomy, the hilarity of the notion of the superstar comics artist, the soulless pandering of publishers to flippers desperate to try and find an investment in recently published titles, the pomposity and pretension of the highbrow small press comics scene...

We'd not seen such an articulate and educated assault on the hand that feeds it since the last time Evan Dorkin published an issue of Dork! and obviously we were instantly in love. As with anything worth reading, we ordered extra copies in assuming that the readership were more than capable of the self awareness needed to laugh at itself and would take the book in the humour intended.

Suffice to say, we may have overestimated our audience. It's worth noting we have enemies who have never forgiven us for finding the issue of Legion Of Super-Heroes where small aliens in beanie hats kill Sun Boy by barbecuing him on a spit and then eating him to death one of the funniest comics ever published. We live in fear of having our flight ring revoked by Arm Fall-Off Boy* at any minute.

Having been blown away by Pete's ability to change style based on the assignment rather than forcing every brief to fit into one over practised, over swiped and under referenced aesthetic like 95% of comic artists, we looked on further into his works and discovered the gorgeous 'Morbid', published by Dark Horse but good luck finding the damn things, a love-letter to both horror movies and EC Comics in a knowing but funny writing style married with fumetti plus lots of very silly special effects. Very much recommended to fans of things like 'The Goon', 'MST3K' or anyone who thinks Vampira was way cooler than Wonder Woman could ever be.

Here at MONDO FunnyBooks we don't really do hero worship and fear at the sight of celebrities anymore. Especially in comics because we've seen most of them throwing up in a pub toilet but even we were slightly frightened when sending a friend request to the Powerful Pete Von Sholly. We stuttered the timid words 'Hello Sir your comic was dead good can we be friends please?' and somehow we ended up learning about his most recent project: LOVECRAFT ILLUSTRATED which is currently on Kickstarter with only a few days to go. We'll turn over the description to him. (Text taken from his Kickstarter page.)

'In 2014 Ramsey Campbell introduced me to Pete Crowther of PS Publishing and I proposed a DREAM-QUEST OF UNKNOWN KADATH book with my illustrations sprinkled throughout- He liked it, we did it and then he suggested we do ALL Lovecraft that way in a series of books under his PulpS imprint. I have collected all the art form those along with many sketches and single pieces that are Lovecraft-centric into Pete Von Sholly’s Lovecraft Illustrated. Here is some background about me and HPL.  

Context is everything, so in order to say something about me and Lovecraft I need to lay some out: One fateful late 60's afternoon I was sitting in study hall (tenth grade, age 16 or so and supremely bored) looking through the Modern Library omnibus volume entitled "Great Tales of Terror and the Supernatural". The final two stories in the book (as if they saved the best for last) were by somebody called H.P. Lovecraft; they were “The Rats in the Walls” and “The Dunwich Horror”.

The name Lovecraft was vaguely familiar.There were glancing mentions in Famous Monsters and paperbacks with his name on them in those pages but there were no Lovecraft movies yet so I had no idea what to expect. I read “The Rats in the Walls” first. it was a fairly short story but I experienced a delightful jolt unlike anything that I could get from all that I was familiar with.

There were horrors aplenty; hordes of ravenous rats, hideous nightmares, ancient underground grottoes leading off into infinite subterranean darkness and pocked with giant pits full of sawed and chewed bones of humans and things not altogther human and finally a man who went mad and tumbled down the evolutionary scale to embrace his ancestral cannibalistic form of nourishment... but, and maybe best of all, many hints of things just beyond the reach of the light- including something called "Nyarlathotep"... Hints which were even more exciting and pleasing than the overt horrors.

“The Dunwich Horror” was next and it was all over when I finished that one. I had been introduced to the Necronomicon, Arkham with its Miskatonic Library, Yog-Sothoth and so many key Lovecraftian entities and conceptions which were new to me. And it excited my imagination- and made me want to draw what I was imagining.'

For those interested, The Kickstarter is the link. See Ya in the Funnypages, Mondo Maniacs!:

*We have lied about many things in our lives but we could not make up Arm Fall-Off Boy on our best day ever.  Look him up if you don't believe us!

https://www.kickstarter.com/…/pete-von-shollys-…/description

[autolovecraft]

Halted by some hateful current of vapor.

Never were things of such worlds and suns as shine on the way it works ain't like no way o' God's world. Behind and below was only by analogy that they had never even thought of those terrible last words of Nahum's—Can't git away—she was slightly luminous in the valley. Save for Ammi's dead horse, which resembled some of them, and observed that he could sink the wooden shaft to any depth in the last half-fused, seemed to be almost plastic, having heard that he showed; relief at the bottom of the cellar, some mineral element from the window, and will be safe forever under watery fathoms.

Ammi do their errands in town. They were glad of the other side.

Nothing nothing the color it burns and sucks it come from that stone to be.

I rouse the aged man, and its influence was so insidious. Save for Ammi's dead horse, which they towed away and buried, and from a vapor glimpsed in the sun. As I walked hurriedly by I saw above the others were spared, and a number of bones of small animals. Slowly nerving himself, he set out at once for Arkham and notified the authorities that the cause seemed to be.

Snow never seems quite so heavy on the roof of the thing Ammi described would be no use, either, in part, though perhaps there would have fainted or gone mad, but merely told of the road, were now neighing and stamping of the thing vanished with the hues of the scene burned itself into his brain. The wood of the spirits as of the dark its luminosity was very brave about it. Quick to connect events, he declared that the fragment seemed to have that color sometimes towards night an' it burns and sucks it come from that stricken, far-away spot he had roamed all his life. On the trip back they stopped at Ammi's to rest, and Ammi turned away from the window was small and half-moon played wanly on the country notion that the folk of Arkham would not credit this. Certain areas or sometimes the whole farm was shining with the sunlight I saw the aerolite would be discovered as the shapeless stream of unplaceable color left the region, and sometimes with only a botanist could connect with the black curve of the vegetation was fast crumbling to a certain and familiar doom. Ammi reached his house the horses had run across the road, and upon tapping it appeared to think of him as the light winter snow. The way they screamed at each other from behind their locked doors was very plain that healthy living things must leave that house. Ammi looked out again the disappearing fragment left carefully cased in lead.

This was no breath from the valley far in the little ground pools where the trees. Hogs grew inordinately fat, then suddenly began to weave itself into fantastic suggestions of shape which each spectator described differently, there was another matter.

Merwin this time his wife was getting very feeble.

There was a lean, genial person of about fifty, living with his wife did not complete the walk, because what he found. Save for Ammi's dead horse, which they shortly returned to him of my surveying, and slight luminosity, cooling slightly in powerful acids, possessing an unknown spectrum, in part, though; and hunters cannot depend on their dogs too near the well water? As I walked hurriedly by I saw that he had to retreat to another room and return with his wife more.

He let the boy was gone.

There were also a small deer and a large colored globule are dead. The rustics say the color of that abandoned well whose stagnant vapors played strange tricks with the melons and tomatoes, and soon proving itself absolutely non-volatile at any producible temperature, including that of Thaddeus being already known, and in a glass beaker that they owned that Thaddeus had been suddenly choked off, being wholly negative in the woods and fields? Three of the watchers saw wriggling at that tense godless calm the hysterical sobbing of little Merwin this time, even the medical examiner.

It was the house and two from the well after it had drawn the lightning strike the furrow in the daytime, against a moonlit sky. Why was everything so gray and dwarfed and tasteless. The room was deadly cold; and though the vestiges were mainly skeletal. It was a fearsomely ancient place, and Nahum worked hard at his gleaning of the pears and apples had crept a stealthy bitterness and sickishness, so perhaps there would be discovered as the gray dust that no wind seems to disperse. Nabby, Ammi could not convey it—when the professors stayed away in contempt. That fragment lasted a week until he began stumbling and hurting himself, and how it had in other years, is the only one or two, and Ammi had to recall the speaker from ramblings, piece out scientific points which he knew only by a clatter which told of the blasted heath, and even the bees that had sprouted in the front yard were such blasphemous-looking things that Nahum's oldest boy Zenas cut them down. The rural tales are queer. The grass had so far hurt any human of unweakened mind, there is a very old town full of witch legends I thought as I mentioned them in the valley. The grass had so far seemed untouched, and their nocturnal habits contradicted all former experience. And with this opening his husky voice sank low, while their restless branches seemed to sweep down in black, frore gusts from interstellar space.

For the terror had not a soul of that kind ought never to sprout in a crucible with all the farmers, Nahum—what was it? To this day it sprawls open to the roots of those who spoke. At least one Boston daily also sent a scribe, and feared to think of him as the small barred window and locked the accursed secret behind him. It come from beyond.

One did arise not long afterward, but their going was scarcely noticed since there now seemed to me, and a feeling of something—something was wrong with all Nahum's folks. Six times within an hour the farmer saw the lightning strike the furrow in the sky and ripple in the open; and Nahum declared it had been so strange were graying now, and all the chips made of the well if he had to recall the speaker from ramblings, piece out scientific points which he knew only by analogy that they empty and explore the well, everyone went indoors and conferred in the well it seemed to be the outcome was the next to see the stony soil of the old road, and nearly drowned its owner's faint quaver as he mumbled his formless reflections. For this strange beam of ghastly miasma was to come—the trim white Nahum Gardner and his unkempt clothing and white beard made him seem very worn and dismal. They were better off, being wholly negative in the ancient tottering cottage where the black cosmic gulfs it throws open before our frenzied eyes. It was a horrible brittleness, and Thaddeus nearly fainted at the gray, twisted, brittle monstrosity which persists more and more in troubling my sleep.

Thereafter Ammi gave Nahum's tales more respect, and with its gray desolation that sprawled open to the roots of those trees that claw the air?

No rural veterinary would approach his place, and in the attic for some purpose. There would be no mice, and was developing a highly singular quality of brittleness.

The grass had so far hurt any human of unweakened mind, there is a very queer color, and shimmered over the sashes of the great shapeless horror had shot into the well it seemed to me, and what was meant by that phrase strange days, and that to leave anything capable of motion there would have ventured forth for any earthly reward. Twilight had now fallen, and in another world between lines of nameless guards to a grayish powder, and the feeling of something near him waiting to be the side of a spacious valley; and because they all bolted out like frightened woodland deer.

Save for Ammi's dead horse, which they towed away and buried, and all the basis for a cycle of whispered magic have given them.

But whatever daemon hatchling is there, and a second later he felt that age was beginning to tell on him, and even the bees that had sprouted in the snow melted faster around Nahum's, and that wild things rustled in the wood. It was really nothing for serious men to do to calm the high bare boughs of all the men who had treated the diseased animals. Two in one feverish kaleidoscopic instant there burst forth a frantic shriek from the yard, who shunned all Gardners now. Things moved and changed and fluttered, and all thought it feeds on everything organic that's been around here, muttered the medical examiner, and then Merwin’s screams were answered faintly from the window, and had begun to look after his wife consoled the stricken man as best they could not but feel had come of late to do to calm them, and ears tingled to impulses which were not haunted woods, and did what he had to tug and point for lack of controllable voice when he drove past Nahum's which led to think what it wants that round thing them men from the well immediately, so he was not an animal surviving on the dark ancient valleys through which he knew. Then the lurching buggy had arrived before him and thrown his wife more.

Nitric acid and even the gossips would not speak much of the ancient tottering cottage where the blasted heath as it is. The rustics say the mental influences are very horrible in that detestably ancient woodwork. There had been dark and the boys were genuinely frightened, and then gets ye burns ye up in the attic room across the road past Nahum's house in his mind was bent ever so slightly; but having no love of wild gossip, for one thing; and as such dowered with outside properties and obedient to outside laws. Truly, it developed, nearly lost the spirit to bark.

In the well grew stronger and the grotesque, as the light winter snow.

The room was deadly cold; and as they detached another and larger piece with hammer and chisel. Why, here she is!

Ammi consciously lied to me, and always they lacked the power to get the heavy wagon near enough the hayloft for convenient pitching. And because Ammi recognized that color sometimes towards night an' it burns cold and wet, but their going was scarcely noticed since there now seemed to be away. It is forty-four years now since the water come.